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ENGLISH LIBRARY 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA 
 
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 THE PLAYS 
 
 OF 
 
 PHILIP M A S S I N G E K. 
 
THE PLAYS 
 
 OF 
 
 PHILIP MASSINGER. 
 
 <Jr0m 
 
 OF 
 
 WILLIAM GIFFORD. 
 
 WITH THE ADDITION OF THE TRAGEDY "BELIEVE AS YOU LIST. 
 
 EDITED BY 
 
 L T COL. FRANCIS CUNNINGHAM. 
 
 LONDON : JOHN CAMDEN HOTTEN, 74 & 75, PICCADILLY. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 INTRODUCTORY NOTICE ......... vii 
 
 THE VIRGIN MARTYR ...... x 
 
 THE UNNATURAL COMBAT ........ 3S 
 
 THE DUKE OF MILAN 
 THE BONDMAN 
 
 99 
 
 THE RENEGADO 133 
 
 THE PARLIAMENT OF LOVE !65 
 
 THE ROMAN ACTOR I94 
 
 THE GREAT DUKE OF FLORENCE 223 
 
 253 
 
 . THE MAID OF HONOUR 
 
 THE PICTURE 
 
 THE EMPEROR OF THE EAST 
 
 . . . .320 
 
 FATAL DOWRY 3S3 
 
 A NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS 3 88 
 
 THE CITY MADAM 4 2 3 
 
 THE GUARDIAN . 457 
 
 WOMAN ; OR, THE PRINCE OF TARENT . . .492 
 
 THE BASHFUL LOVER 527 
 
 THE OLD LAW 560 
 
 BELIEVE AS YOU LIST 595 
 
INTRODUCTORY NOTICE. 
 
 PHILIP MASSINGER, the author of the nineteen plays contained in this volume, and of 
 eighteen others, which, it is to be feared, are irrecoverably lost, was born in the year 
 1584; twenty years after Shakspeare and Marlowe, ten after Jonson, eight after 
 Fletcher, and within two of Beaumont and Ford. Contemporary with him also were 
 Greene, Webster, Peele, Chapman, Middleton, Shirley, Kyd, Decker, Marston, Daniel, 
 Fulke Greville, and others of hardly inferior mark, " all of whom spoke nearly the 
 same language and had a set of moral feelings in common." Such was the imperial 
 manner in which Shakspeare and his brother dramatists of the great race took posses- 
 sion of the English stage, and filled 
 
 " The spacious times of great Elizabeth, 
 With sounds that echo still." 
 
 Never before or since has the earth witnessed such a simultaneous outburst of minds 
 of kindred power. Napoleon and his marshals did not make their appearance in a 
 thicker cluster. When one thinks of the Burghley men, and the Armada men, who 
 were sinking one by one into their graves : of Bacon and Raleigh in the full flush of 
 their genius : of the Hampdens, and Cromwells, and Jeremy Taylors, and Miltons, 
 who about the same time were being rocked in their cradles : lastly of old Queen Bess 
 herself: when one considers also that the entire population of England in those days 
 was probably not more than that of our present London, it is impossible not to feel an 
 emotion of pride in belonging to the same " happy breed of men" from which they 
 sprung, and in being born like them in 
 
 " This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this England." 
 
 The same authorities which give 1584 for the year, fix Salisbury for the place, of 
 Massinger's birth. The books of its churches have been searched in vain for any 
 record of his baptism, but as one of the principal of them fell down in 1653, and 
 there is a vacuum in its registers extending over the period in which the name might 
 have appeared, it is probable that the infant son of Arthur Massinger received the name 
 of Philip at the font of St, Edmund's. Hartley Coleridge indulges the pleasing fancy 
 that he must have had for sponsor the greatest Englishman who has ever borne that 
 name, the poet-soldier in whose " sweetly constituted mind no ugly thought or un- 
 handsome meditation could find a harbour ; who turned all that he touched into 
 images of honour and virtue ;" and who himself derived it from the arch-enemy of 
 his country and his religion. And the circumstance of the sponsorship is in itself not 
 improbable, for was not Sidney's sister Pembroke's wife, and the poet's father was a 
 trusted and honoured "servant" of the Herbert family. Arthur Massinger indeed 
 must have been a man of birth, education, energy, and high principle, for recent research 
 has brought to light a letter from Henry Earl of Pembroke to the great Earl of 
 Burghley, dated 28th March, 1587, recommending him in the strongest manner for 
 the reversion of the office of Examiner in the Court of the Marches towards South 
 Wales ; and ten years afterwards, when a matrimonial arrangement of some sort was 
 pending between these two powerful families, it was to Arthur Massinger that the 
 delicate negociation was confided. [ Notes and Queries, ist S. iii. 52.] 
 
INTRODUCTORY NOTICE. 
 
 In the dedication to A New Way to Pay Old Del-Is the poet states that he " was 
 born a devoted servant to the thrice noble family " of Herbert, and the probability is 
 that he was brought up as a page to the Countess of Pembroke at Wilton. His allu- 
 sions to the position and minute duties of pages are perpetual. In that particular palace, 
 if anywhere in England, he would learn to admire the combination of rank and power, 
 and stately yet flowing courtesy, which in after life he was so fond of bestowing upon 
 his favourite characters. So successful indeed is he in these delineations that, without 
 the knowledge that such in all likelihood had been his upbringing, a biographer would 
 be led to assume that it was so in order to account for the confident and consummate 
 ease with which he treads the halls, and ascends the staircases, and enters the tents, 
 and sits down at the banquets of his great dukes and emperors, and viceroys and pro- 
 consuls. But beyond this general idea which irresistibly forces itself upon us, we 
 know nothing whatever of his early life. Not a single fact, not even a barren date, has 
 come down to us until Friday, the I4th of May, 1602, when "Philip Massinger, a 
 Salisbury man, the. son of a gentleman" (Sarisburiensis, generosi filii), was entered at 
 St. Alban's Hall in the University of Oxford. He must then have been about eighteen 
 years old. 
 
 After this brief gleam of light, darkness again closes in darkness that may be felt. 
 Anthony a Wood says that the young student's expenses at the University were de- 
 frayed by the Earl of Pembroke, and that " he gave his mind more to poetry and 
 romances for about four years or more, than to logic and philosophy, which he ought to 
 have done, as he was patronized to that end." Langbaine, on the contrary, asserts that 
 during his residence he applied himself closely to his studies ; and that his whole sup- 
 port was drawn from his father. Tom Davies, his next biographer, considers that it 
 was very wrong of him to neglect his logic and his philosophy, and thereby provokes 
 the grim merriment of Gifford, who hints that the worthy fellow (whom one forgives 
 for "mouthing a sentence as curs mouth a bone," in consideration of his having intro- 
 duced Boswell to Johnson), neither possessed himself nor knew the meaning of "these 
 valuable acquisitions." Gifford himself adopts the view of Langbaine, both as regards 
 the studies and the means of living, and, after calling Wood a tasteless drudge, adds 
 that the young man " must have applied himself to study with uncommon energy, for 
 his literary acquisitions at this early period appear to be multifarious and extensive." 
 The representatives of the "tasteless drudge" school might here retort on the logical and 
 caustic critic, and inquire the names of the works in which at this period his literary 
 acquisitions are made manifest. 
 
 It is agreed that Massinger left Oxford in 1606 abruptly, and without taking a degree ; 
 and, as it appears certain that his father died about the same time, it is reasonable to con- 
 nect these circumstances together, and thence to conclude that at the age of twenty he 
 found himself cast penniless on the world. The old Earl of Pembroke had died in 
 January, 1601, and had been succeeded by his eldest son, who, according to Wood, 
 was " not only a great favourer of learned and ingenious men, but was himself endowed 
 to admiration with a poetical geny," and "was the very picture and viva effigies of 
 nobility." Clarendon, in more weighty language, describes him as " the most univer- 
 sally beloved and esteemed of any man of that age. ... of a pleasant facetious 
 humour, and a disposition affable and magnificent." On every account, therefore, one 
 would have supposed that a young man of such abilities would as a matter of course 
 have been taken by the hand by a nobleman of such dispositions, who would have felt 
 an additional pride in presenting him to the world as the son of his father's most 
 cherished retainer. But the biographers, who agree in little else, are unanimous in 
 saying that whatever may have been his claims to patronage, no patronage of any kind 
 was afforded to him. To account for this singular neglect, Gifford is reduced to what I 
 cannot but think the still more singular assumption, that Massinger had forfeited the 
 Earl of Pembroke's favour by "having, during his residence at the University, ex- 
 
INTRODUCTORY NOTICE. j x 
 
 changed the religion of his father for one at this time the object of persecution, hatred, 
 and terror," in short, he had turned Roman Catholic. It requires a bold man to 
 differ with Gifford on any point connected with Massinger, but is not a change of this 
 sort the precise kind of circumstance the memory of which would have lingered longest 
 amoog the cloisters of what Bunsen calls the Queen of Cities ? Wood was entered at 
 Merton forty-one years after Massinger quitted St. Alban's Hall, and it is not necessary 
 to assume that there were Dr. Rouths in those days in order to feel convinced that he 
 had opportunities of conversing with contemporaries of the poet. A freshman of 1868, 
 of an enquiring turn of mind, would be tolerably certain to learn as much as he cared 
 to hear about any distinguished character who had left the University in 1827. Besides, 
 the fact would have been of particular interest to old Anthony, as he was himself again 
 and again accused of exhibiting in his writings a strong leaning to all who were Papists 
 or papistically inclined. But granting the force of the arguments as to the conversion, 
 was the Earl of Pembroke a man likely to have been influenced as Gifford supposes ? 
 It is true that Clarendon says he was " a great lover of his country, and of the religion 
 and justice which he believed could only support it; and his friendships were only with 
 men of these principles;" but it was Puritanism, not Roman Catholicism, that was run- 
 ning in the Chancellor's head when he wrote these lines, and it must have been political 
 rather than moral reasons that swayed the Earl in the choice of his friendships. 
 Clarendon goes on to say that " he was clouded by great infirmities, which he had in 
 too exorbitant proportion : he indulged to himself the pleasures of all kinds, almost in 
 all excesses, and to women he was immoderately given up." For such an one to have 
 been as strait-laced as Gifford's theory seems to require is to anticipate the pious fears 
 of Goldsmith's soldier, in the exquisite dialogue in the Citizen of the World. 
 
 Gifford seems to think that this estrangement was limited to William, the then head 
 of the house of Herbert, and speaks of Massinger's anxiously avoiding all mention of 
 him individually, as contrasted with his perpetually recurring to his hereditary obligations 
 to the family generally. But as far as I can discover, his mention of the family at all 
 is limited to three occasions (viz., in the dedications to The Bondman, 1624, the New 
 Way to Pay Old Debts, 1633, and in a copy of verses 1636), so that the terms "anxious 
 avoidance" and "perpetual recurrence" are at least as strong as the circumstances will 
 justify. In one of these dedications also he expressly states that so late as 1 624 he 
 " had not arrived at the happiness to be made known to" Earl Philip, who up to that 
 time, therefore, had neglected him as much as Earl William. Before dropping the 
 subject, it will not be out of place to mention that the elder of these brothers is 
 generally considered to be the mysterious W. H., the " only begetter " of sundry world- 
 renowned sonnets ; and that, only a year before the date above given, a certain folio 
 volume had been dedicated to the two earls jointly as "the most noble and incomparable 
 pair of brethren," whose "dignity" the editors "could not but know to be greater than 
 to descend to the reading of these trifles" the said trifles including, amongst other 
 small matters, Lear, Hamlet, Macbeth, and Othello. 
 
 But to leave this long digression and return to Massinger. He left Oxford in 1606, 
 and appears at once to have enlisted himself amongst " divers whose necessitous fortunes 
 made literature their profession." He thus wrote of himself in the autumn of his days, 
 when we know tolerably well how his time was employed ; but of their spring and 
 summer we can hardly say more than that they must have passed away in one long 
 struggle for bare existence. The first distinct record of his independent doings is 
 the performance at Court, in 1621, of his lost comedy of the Woman's Plot. But 
 during this interval of fifteen years he must have produced 
 
 1. The Forced Lady, tragedy. 
 
 2. Noble Choice, comedy. 
 
 3. The Wandering Lovers, comedy. 
 
 4. Philenzo and Hippolita, tragi-comedy. 
 
INTRODUCTORY NOTICE. 
 
 5. Antonio and Pallia, comedy. 
 
 6. The Tyrant, tragedy. 
 
 7. Fast and Welcome, comedy. 
 
 8. The Woman's Plot, comedy. 
 
 It is sad to think that the manuscripts of all these plays were in existence in the 
 middle of the last century, and that not a trace of them now remains. They fell into 
 the hands of one John Warburton, F.R.S. and F.S.A., Somerset Herald, a vufgar, illite- 
 rate, sordid, and unprincipled ex-exciseman, whose passion it was to glean up every- 
 thing either in print or manuscript which bore in any way on a subject which inte- 
 rested him, making the collections over to the care of the domestic who discharged the 
 double duties of cook and librarian, until he could find a person with education enough to 
 write something fit for publication regarding them. In this way he had collected no 
 ! less than fifty-five genuine unpublished English dramas of the golden period, unfortu- 
 i nately written upon paper suited for culinary purposes, every one of which, except 
 | three at the bottom of the pile, was appropriated leaf by leaf by this wretched kitchen 
 j wench for coverings for her pastry.* 
 
 Besides these "martyrs of pies," as Pope would have called them, the four following 
 ! surviving plays must be put down to the same period : 
 9. The Old Lair, comedy. 
 
 10. The Fir gin Martyr, tragedy.f 
 
 11. The Unnatural Combat, tragedy. 
 
 12. The Duke of' Milan, tragedy. 
 
 j But when, after a careful calculation, it has been considered proved that fifteen pounds 
 is the largest sum that even a writer of established reputation could reckon upon clearing 
 by a single play, it is evident that Massinger must have had other sources of support for 
 fifteen years than these twelve dramas could have afforded him. But it was the frequent 
 fashion of those days, and a " noble practice" it was too, says Charles Lamb, for two or 
 more writers to join in the composition of the same play, and Massinger's powers were 
 such as peculiarly fitted him for the ready execution of this kind of mosaic. Langbaine 
 has preserved some doggrel which describes his Pegasus as an easy hack that would 
 
 " Amble o'er 
 Some three-score miles of fancy in an hour ; ' 
 
 and " he wrote with that equability of all the passions which made his English style 
 the purest and most free from violent metaphors and harsh constructions of any of the 
 dramatists who were his contemporaries." My present task has led me to peruse his 
 works many times over, and again and again have his extraordinary fluency and facility 
 led me to compare his powers to those of the statesman who could speak a king's 
 speech off-hand.J That he lent such assistance to Fletcher, for one, we know from 
 
 * There must have been something particularly hateful about this Warburton's cha- 
 racter. Francis Grose, his brother herald, the "fine fat odgel wight" of Burns, and 
 the best-natured of men, quite exults in telling that " he died a beggar ;" another friend 
 seems to derive gratification from relating that he had a great abhorrence to the idea of 
 worms crawling over him, and ordered his corpse to be packed in a particular manner : 
 this packing fermented and burst the coffin during the funeral. But the feeling does 
 not end even in the grave. His only son, we are told, happened to go into France in 
 1793, and was guillotined at Lyons. And here, in 1868, I plead guilty to feeling a 
 certain sort of satisfaction in penning this note ! 
 
 t Regarding this fine tragedy a brief note has been discovered in the Office Book of 
 Sir George Buck, Master of the Revels, Oct. 6, 1620. " For new reforming the Virgin 
 Martyr for the Red Bull, 405." 
 
 J Macaulay describes Pitt's oratory as "lofty, sonorous, and commanding." But he 
 only knew him at second-hand ; while Cobbett, who must have heard him often, ad- 
 
INTRODUCTORY NOTICE. 
 
 two altogether independent sources. Sir Aston Cockayne, a true friend, if not a true 
 poet, has mentioned the fact on three separate occasions the exact number which, 
 according to Gifford, constitutes "perpetual recurrence." In the first, addressing his 
 cousin Charles Cotton, and speaking of Beaumont, he says : 
 
 ' ' His own renown no such addition needs 
 To have a fame sprung from another's deeds ; 
 And my good friend, old Philip Massinger, 
 With Fletcher writ in some that we see there." 
 
 Again, in his address to Mr. Humphrey Mosley and Mr. Humphrey Robinson, he 
 : comes to the same point : 
 
 1" For Beaumont of those many writ in few, 
 And Massinger in other few." 
 
 Lastly, in some lines to which I shall again have to refer, he says of the pair Fletcher 
 1 and Massinger : 
 
 " Plays they did write together were great friends." 
 
 To all this quasi poetical testimony from his " worthy friend" must now be added 
 I the following most prosaic and most melancholy evidence under his own hand. It 
 was discovered by Malone among the archives at Dulwich College, and may be left to 
 tell its own sad and instructive story : 
 
 "To our most loving friend Mr. Phillipp Hinchlcw, Esquire, these: 
 " Mr. Hinchlow, You understand our unfortunate extremity, and I do not think 
 i you so void of Christianity, but that you would throw so much money into the 
 Thames as we request now of you ; rather than endanger so many innocent lives; you 
 i know there is ten pound more at least to be received of you for the play, we desire you 
 ! to lend us five pound of that, which shall be allowed to you, without which we cannot 
 ! be bailed, nor I play any more till this be dispatched. It will lose you twenty pound 
 | ere the end of the next week, beside the hindrance of the next new play. Pray, sir, 
 j consider our cases with humanity, and now give us cause to acknowledge you our true 
 j friend in time of need. We have entreated Mr. Davison to deliver this note, as well to 
 | witness your love as our promises, and always acknowledgment to be ever 
 
 " Your most thankful and loving friends, 
 
 "NAT: FIELD. 
 
 " The money shall be abated out of the money remains for the play of Mr. Fletcher 
 and ours. "RoB: DABORNE. 
 
 " I have ever found you a true loving friend to me, and in so small a suit, it being 
 honest, I hope you will not fail us. " PHILIP MASSINGER." 
 
 It was of course impossible to refuse a request at once so urgent, so reasonable, so- 
 modest, and so " honest," i.e., honourable ; but still it is satisfactory to be able to 
 transcribe the following endorsement, which I copy literatim in order to show the spell- 
 ing of the names, which no doubt to a certain extent preserves the pronunciation : 
 
 " Rec. by me Robert Davison of Mr. Hinshloe for the use of Mr. Dauboern, Mr. 
 Feeld, Mr. Messenger the some of vl. " ROBERT DAVISON." 
 
 This document is without date, but it must be before January 1616, when Henslow 
 died, and therefore, which is worthy of note, during the lifetime of Francis Beaumont, 
 who died on the 6th of March of the same year. The date of the tripartite letter is 
 
 dresses him in one of his "Rural RHes," "Yes -you loud snot ting bawler." Is it 
 possible for words to be more graphic ? 
 
xii INTRODUCTORY NOTICE. 
 
 conjectured to be some time in either 1613 or 1614, and the research of Mr. Collier has 
 discovered yet another document in the same quarry, which must also be given at 
 length. 
 
 " Noverint Universi, &c., 4 die Julii, 1615. 
 
 "The condition of this obligation is such, that if the above bounden Robert Daborn 
 and Philip Massinger, or either of them, should pay or cause to be paid unto the above- 
 named Philip Henslowe, his executors, administrators, or assigns, the full and entire 
 sum of three pounds of lawful money of England, at or upon the first day of August 
 next ensuing the date of these presents, at the now dwelling-house of the said Philip 
 Henslowe, situate on the Bankside, without fraud or farther delay, then and from 
 thenceforth this present obligation to be null and void and of no effect, or else to re- 
 main and abide in full power, strength, and virtue. 
 
 "RoB. DABORNE, 
 "PHILIP MASSINGER." 
 
 When such uncommon pains are taken about so small a sum as three pounds, it is, 
 I am afraid, evidence that the circumstances of the borrowers were such as to lead the 
 lender to apprehend some difficulty in recovering his advance. 
 
 With the exception of the brief note of Sir George Buck regarding the Virgin 
 Martyr, the first mention of Massinger's labours in the Office-book of the Master of 
 the Revels, is on the 3rd of December, 1623, when 
 
 13. The Bondman, tragi-comedy, 
 
 was brought upon the boards. Philip Earl of Montgomery was present at the first 
 performance, on which occasion, as Massinger states it, his "lordship's liberal suffrage 
 taught others to allow it for current." When in the following year the play was 
 printed and dedicated to the Earl, it is to be hoped that the " liberal suffrage" assumed 
 a more substantial shape than the forty shillings which was the customary payment for 
 these compliments. Massinger's old comrade Field, as Mr. Collier tells us, when he 
 printed his play Woman is a Weathercock, addressed it to "any woman that hath been 
 no weathercock," boastingly asserting that he did so " because forty shillings I care not 
 -for." Matters at this time must have been better with him than when he penned that 
 sad tripartite letter. 
 
 On April 17, 1624, Massinger produced 
 
 14. The Renegado, Tragi-comedy; 
 and on November 3 of the same ) ? ear 
 
 15. The Parliament of Love, Comedy. 
 
 They were both acted at the Cockpit, and are entered in Sir Henry Herbert's Office- 
 book. 
 
 1 6. The Spanish Viceroy, Comedy, 
 
 which was one of the martyrs to Mr. Warburton's pies, is supposed to have been full 
 of allusions to Gondomar, the Spanish Ambassador, and stood no chance of being 
 licensed by the Master of the Revels. The players therefore resolved to act it on their 
 own responsibility, and for this piece of insolence or of independence were required to 
 make a most humble apology to Sir Henry Herbert, and to sign a promise " not to act 
 any play without your hand or substitute's hereafter, nor do anything that may preju- 
 dice the authority of your office." I find this circumstance recorded in the Life of 
 John Lowin, and as Mr. Collier makes no allusion to Massinger being the author of 
 the play, and as the date of the apology, December ?oth, treads so closely on the date 
 of performance of the Parliament of Love, I am led to suspect that Giffbrd may 
 have admitted The Spanisli Viceroy into his list on insufficient grounds. Malone, 
 however, mentions that a play of Massinger's called The Spanish Viceroy ; or, the 
 Honour of Women, was entered at Stationers' HaH for Humphrey Mosely in 1653. 
 If, indeed, Massinger were the author of a play in ridicule of Gondomar and his 
 countrymen, would it not settle the question of his having become a Papist? 
 
INTRODUCTORY NOTICE. xiii 
 
 On October nth, 1626, the King's Company performed 
 
 17. The Roman Actor, Tragedy. 
 
 In dedicating this piece three years afterwards to Sir Philip Knyvett and Sir Thomas 
 Jeay, he says, with manly self-confidence, "if the gravity and height of the subject dis- 
 : taste such as are only affected with jigs and ribaldry (as I presume it will), their con- 
 demnation of me and my poem can no way offend me; my reason teaching me such 
 malicious and ignorant detractors deserve rather contempt than satisfaction." He adds, 
 " I ever held this the most perfect work of my Minerva." And surely (pace Gifford) 
 the character of Paris is a noble conception, upheld to the end with a grand consistency. 
 In these respects it is only to be surpassed by that of Charalois in the Fatal Doivry a 
 Hamlet whose mind has not been sicklied o'er by the pale cast of thought. 
 
 Of his next play, 
 
 1 8. The Judge, 
 
 1 find only the fact that it was acted by the King's Company on June 6th, 1627. It has 
 perished, and left no trace behind. It does not appear to be known whether it was a 
 tragedy or a comedy. 
 
 19. The Great Duke of Florence, Comedy, 
 
 was acted at the Phoenix, Drury Lane, on July 5th, 1627, under the name simply of 
 The Great Duke. 
 
 20. The Honour of Women 
 
 was acted May 6th, 1628, and is now lost. If this were indeed the same as No. 16, The 
 Spanish Viceroy, the perilous stuff must have been purged out of it to adapt it for 
 representation. 
 
 21. The Maid of Honour, Tragi-Comedy, 
 
 was acted at the Phoenix, Drury Lane, but the date of its first appearance is unknown. 
 
 22. The Picture, Tragi-Comedy, 
 was first acted June 8th, 1629. 
 
 23. Minerva's Sacrifice, Tragedy, 
 
 perished by the hands of Mr. Warburton's kitchen wench. It was first acted Nov. 3rd, . 
 1629, by the King's Company. 
 
 24. The Emperor of the East, Tragi-Comedy, 
 
 was acted March i ith, 1631, at Blackfriars, and was printed the following year. 
 We now come to 
 
 25. Believe as You List, Tragedy, 
 
 which was always described as a comedy, and believed to have been one of the many 
 I victims of that insatiable barathrum of the drama, the oven of the pie-eating Somerset 
 : Herald ; and that one copy did so perish there can be very little doubt. Colley Gibber, 
 | however, had mentioned his having seen a transcript of it, with the stage directions 
 1 inserted in the margin ; and in the year 1844, "concealed in a vast mass of rubbish,"" 
 this very transcript turned up once more. The lucky discoverer, Mr. Beltz, was fortu- 
 nately a liberal and enlightened man, and lost no time in making a present of it to the 
 public, through the medium of the long-defunct Percy Society.* It was issued in 1848, 
 under the nominal editorship of Mr. Crofton Croker, but might just as well have had 
 no editor at all. I have not myself seen the manuscript, nor am I aware of the place 
 of its deposit. An attempt was made to correct a few of the grosser errors by a writer 
 in the fourth volume of the "Shakspeare Society's Papers," under the signature of a 
 " Member of both Societies." Of his capabilities for the task I will only give two 
 
 * The publisher of the present edition has not asked anybody's permission to make 
 this reprint, simply because, when finder, editor, and "Society" had all alike gone to 
 their graves, he was unable even to guess the quarter in which it would have been 
 courteous to make the application 
 
INTRODUCTORY NOTICE. 
 
 examples, taken for convenience, one from the Prologue, the other from the Epilogue. 
 The latter, according to Mr. Crofton Croker, opens as follows : 
 
 " The end of Epilogues is to inquire 
 The conjure of the play, or to desire 
 Pardon for what's amiss." 
 
 The word "conjure" in the second line is of course absurd, and the critic proposes to 
 change it to fortune, which is not much better in meaning, and very unlike it in 
 appearance. The true word, no doubt, is censure, which in those days, and much 
 nearer our own time, wa? used for judgment. Congreve somewhere invites a "favourable 
 censure." In the Prologue Massinger had begged pardon in case it should be found 
 that 
 
 ' ' What's Roman here, 
 Grecian or Asiatic, draw too near 
 A late and sad example." 
 
 The critic must needs have it that the "late and sad example" could only refer to the 
 fate of Charles I. ; and as that king was not executed till eighteen years after the date 
 of the play, he had to post-date the performance, which brought it to a period when 
 acting was prohibited ! He finds too the closest resemblance between the careers of 
 Charles and Massinger's Antiochus, while beyond the salmons-in-bcth style of likeness 
 there is literally no similarity whatever. On my own first perusal of the play I saw 
 that no one individual of antiquity could possibly be identified with the hero of 
 Massinger, and the introduction of a Proconsul of Lusitania, and the talk about seeking 
 aid from the Batavians led me to suspect that he drew from a much more modern 
 source. I then remembered that Mr. Collier in his "Annals of the Stage" (ii. 26) made 
 mention of " Sir Henry Herbert on the nth January," 1630-1, refusing to license a 
 play by Massinger, the name of which he does not give, ' because it did contain dangerous 
 matter, as the deposing of Sebastian, King of Portugal, by Philip II., and there being 
 a peace sworn 'twixt the Kings of England and Spain.'" I then turned to the 
 first book of reference at hand, and discovered, as I expected, that the story of Believe 
 As You List was, down to the most minute points, identical with that of the hero of 
 Portugal. The book from which Massinger must have derived it is, "The True 
 History of the Late and Lamentable Adventures of Don Sebastian, King of Portugal, 
 after his imprisonment in Spain until this present day," London, 1602.* And thus, 
 what the critic calls "those mysterious words, a late and sad example," were at once 
 rendered plain, and at the same time a point in Massinger's history cleared up. 
 
 Sir Henry Herbert must have made a good thing of his office as Master of the 
 Revels. In this matter of Believe As You List, he seems to have acted on the principle 
 of the attorney in Joe Miller, who made the double charge, " To calling at your house, 
 6s. Sd. ; to not finding you at home, 6s. 8d" After noting the refusal, he has recorded 
 in his book, " I had my fee notwithstanding, which belongs to me for reading it 
 over, and ought to be brought always with a book." In some respects he is 
 quite Pepys-like in his communicativeness. On the i7th July, 1626, Mr. Hem- 
 mings pays him $ "for a courtesie done him about their Blackfriar's house;" and on 
 the nth April, 1627, the same Mr. Hemmings gives him $, "to forbid the playing 
 of Shakspeare's plays to the Red Bull Company." Two years later, some women 
 actors came over from France, and made their appearance here, which is thus spoken 
 of by Prynne, in his HistriomastLr. " Some French women, or monsters, rather, in 
 Michaelmas term, 1629, attempted to act a French play at the playhouse in Blackfriars, 
 
 * Of this pamphlet I know no more than the title, which I have taken from Mr. Haz- 
 litt's laborious work, " The Bibliography of Old English Literature." 
 
INTRODUCTORY NOTICE. 
 
 an impudeat, shameful, unwomanish, graceless, if not more than' whorish, attempt." 
 For this attempt Sir Henry Herbert says he received 2, which was a high fee. 
 considering that the poor people were " hissed, hooted, and pippin-pelted from the 
 stage." He had another fee " for allowinge of the Frenche at the Red Bull for a day, 
 22nd Nov., 1629;" and again, "for allowing of a French Companie at the Fortune, to 
 play one afternoone, this i4th day of August, 1629, 1," to which he adds the 
 following characteristic note, " I should have had another piece, but in respect of their 
 ill-fortune I was content to bestow a piece back !" Well may Gifford call him " a mean 
 and rapacious overseer." These notes are so necessary to a right understanding of the 
 state of the Stage in Massinger's time, that I make no apology for inserting them, 
 except to my old friend Mr. Collier, from whose work they arc stolen bodily. 
 
 To the refusal to license the Believe As You Lift, on the nth January, 1631, the 
 poet appears to me to allude in the. prologue to the Emperor of the East, which was 
 spoken on the nth March following, when he says 
 
 ' ' He cannot 'scape their censures who delight 
 To misapply whatever he shall write ;" 
 
 and from the desponding tone of the second prologue to the same play, which was 
 composed for an occasion considerably later than the delivery of the first, and subse- 
 quent to the acting of Believe As You List, I cannot help thinking that both these 
 plays were "damned" on their first appearance. In no other way can I account for 
 the opening words of the Prologue to the Guardian, which was spoken October 3131, 
 
 1633. 
 
 ' ' After tvv ice putting forth to sea, his fame 
 Shipwrecked in either, and his once known name 
 In two years silence buried." 
 
 26. The Unfortunate Piety, a Tragedy, 
 
 was first acted by the King's Company, June i3th, 1631. It is lost, 
 
 27. The Fatal Dowry, Tragedy, and 
 
 28. A New Way to Pay Old Debts, Comedy. 
 
 29. The City Madam, Comedy. 
 
 30. The Guardian, Comedy, 
 will be spoken of in another place. 
 
 31. Cieander, Tragedy, 
 
 was acted May 7th, 1634, by the King's Company, and drew Queen Henrietta Maria 
 to Blackfriars. "A remarkable circumstance," says Gifford, "at that time when our 
 sovereigns were not accustomed to visit the public theatres. It is to be hoped that it 
 was the poet's benefit day. The circumstance is recorded by the Master of the 
 Revels." 
 
 32. A Very Woman, Tragi-Comedy, 
 will be spoken of in another place. 
 
 33. The. Orator. 
 
 This play, which is lost, was first acted June loth, 1635, by the King's Company. 
 
 J4. The Bashful Lover, Tragi-Comedy, 
 . be spoken of in another place. 
 35. The King and the Sulject, 
 
 was first acted June 5th, 1638, by the King's Company, and is now lost. Of this play 
 a remarkable anecdote is related by the Master of the Revels, who would appear to have 
 had doubts about the propriety of licensing it, and referred the manuscript to King 
 Charles for his own decision. The following is the entry in Sir Henry Herbert s 
 book: "At Greenwich, this 4th of June, 1638, Mr. W. Murray gave me power from 
 the King to allow of The King and the Subject, and told me that he would 
 warrant it. ' 
 
INTRODUCTORY NOTICE. 
 
 11 Monies ! we'll raise supplies what way we please 
 And force you to subscribe to blanks, in which 
 We'll mulct you as we shall think fit. The Caesars 
 In Rome were wise, acknowledging no laws 
 But what their swords did ratify ; the wives 
 And daughters of the senators bowing to 
 Their will, as deities,"* &c. 
 
 "This is a piece taken out of Philip Massenger*s play called The King and the 
 Subject, and entered here for ever to be remembered by my son, and those that cast 
 their eyes on it, in honour of King Charles, my master, who, reading over the play at 
 Newmarket, set his mark upon the place with his own hand, and in these words 
 This is too insolent and to l-e changed. Note, that the poet makes it the speech of a 
 king, Don Pedro of Spain." Had the judgment of King Charles been as sound as his 
 taste was excellent, the history of England might have been different from what we 
 find it. He would at any rate have made a very different Master of the Revels from Sir 
 Henry Herbert, as witness the following entry in the latter's book, under date January 
 1634: "The King is pleased to take faith, death, slight, for asseverations and no 
 oaths, to which I do humbly submit as my master's judgment ; but under favour con- 
 ceive them to be oaths, and enter them here to declare my opinion and submission." 
 And this is the man who screwed money from the poor painted women from France, 
 and from the English players and poets who were poorer still. 
 
 36. Alexius, or the Chaste Lorer, and 
 
 37. The Fair Anchoress of Pausilippo, 
 
 acted respectively on Sept. 25th, 1639, and Jan. 26th, 1640, both by the King's 
 company, are the two last plays of Massinger which appear in the book of the Master 
 of the Revels, and, although Gifford was not aware of the circumstance, loth were post- 
 humous. It is impossible now to discover whether they were really his latest compositions, 
 or merely two unacted plays of earlier date found among his papers after his death. If the 
 former, it is hardly possible to overrate the value of what we have lost ; for Massinger's 
 mind was not one of those barren soils which forfeited any of its fertility by thirty years of 
 cropping. His six last plays have all the vigour of his six first, but the judgment which 
 guides his powers is riper and more serene. Strange to say, his humour kept growing 
 brighter to the last. The New Way to Pay Old Del-Is and The City Madam are 
 among the dozen finest comedies in the English language, and the slave-dealing scene 
 mA Very Woman stands altogether by itself for the elastic play of a merry invention. 
 
 Of the personal history of Massinger during these last busy years nothing is known 
 beyond what may be gleaned from hints dropped in his dedications, and these, alas, 
 are but too uniformly manly confessions of poverty, and manly thanks for wants re- 
 lieved. The Earl of Pembroke and Montgomery seems to have made up in these 
 latter years for his own and his brother's early neglect ; and his son-in-law the gallant 
 Earl of Carnarvon likewise befriended him. Without the aid of Sir Francis Foljambe 
 and Sir Thomas Bland, he tells us, " he had hardly subsisted;" and he "stood much 
 engaged to the noble Society of the Inner Temple for their so frequent bounties." 
 He also derived "extraordinary content" from the " remembrance " of Lord Mohun's 
 love, which was conveyed to him by his lordship's nephew and his own zealous friend 
 Sir Aston Cockayne. 
 
 This life of toil and care was suddenly brought to an end about the middle of March 
 1639 not 1640 as stated by Gifford and all previous biographers. He went to bed 
 
 * It was probably this passage which led Malone to suppose that this play was iden- 
 tical with The Tyrant, one of the "Martyrs of pies." Sir H. Herbert mentions that 
 the title was "changed," but whether to or from The King and the Subject does not 
 appear. 
 
INTRODUCTORY NOTICE. xvii 
 
 in good health, says Langbaine, and was found dead in the morning in his own house 
 on the Bankside. He was buried in the church of St. Saviour's, Southwark, and the 
 " monthly accounts" give this record of the circumstance :* 
 
 " 1638. March i8th. Philip Massinger, stranger, in the church ... 2 li." 
 More than twelve years earlier the following entry is found in the same gloomy record : 
 * 1625. August 29. John Fletcher, a poet, in the church." 
 
 The charges for Fletcher's grave are entered as 2os., and 2s. for gr : and cl : (the 
 grave digger and the clerk). The charges for Massinger were probably greater, as being 
 a " stranger," or non-parishioner. Sir Aston Cockayne, who evidently was greatly 
 attached to him, wrote the following " Epitaph on Mr. John Fletcher and Mr. Philip 
 Massinger :" 
 
 " In the same grave Fletcher was buried, here 
 Lies the stage poet Philip Massinger : 
 Playes they did write together, were great friends : 
 And now one grave includes them at their ends : 
 So whom on earth nothing did part, beneath 
 Here, in their fames, they lie in spight of death." 
 
 I am very reluctant to differ from so eminent an authority as my friend Mr. Dyce, 
 who thinks the "same grave " means nothing more than the " same place of inter- 
 ment," but it will be observed that the idea is repeated in the fourth line, in a yet 
 more definite shape, and the whole epitaph, to my thinking, bears unmistakeable marks 
 of being designed by its writer for cutting on the stone which covered their common 
 grave. I also please myself by imagining that the arrangement was made in accordance 
 with an expressed wish of Massinger himself. 
 
 The old Priory Church of St. Saviour's was, next to St. Paul's and the Abbey, the 
 noblest church in London, and not being hemmed in as now by warehouses and 
 breweries and railway stations, nor shorn of its fair proportions by fatal decay and more 
 fatal repairs, must have dominated like a cathedral over the brothels and bear gardens 
 that surrounded it. Massinger could not have crossed the ancient bridge or taken boat 
 to the Temple or Queenhithe without having it ever in his view, and considering 
 the circumstances of his life, what is more natural to suppose than that he should often 
 desire to be resting in peace by the side of his illustrious friend and fellow labourer ? 
 But it is vain to speculate on a point which can never be decided. In Gifford's time 
 every stone and every fragment of a stone was examined in the hope of finding some 
 indication of the particular spot where these great poets were interred; and had there 
 been anything in the shape of an inscription regarding either, it must have been dis- 
 covered or have finally perished in the general levelling and destruction of 1832. The 
 monument of that dry old stick Gowerwas then removed to its present site and "painted 
 and repaired" by the pious care of his namesake, the Duke of Sutherland, but the dust 
 of the authors of The Faithful Shepherdess and The Fatal Doicry most probably has 
 found its last resting-place under the kitchen floor of some house in Doddington Grove, 
 Kennington, S.W., which is built, we are told, on the " three feet surface of earth" 
 removed from St. Saviour's, Southwark. 
 
 Having thus followed Massinger to his grave, and beyond it, I have only to record 
 the subsequent fate of his works. The last play acted during his life, and the two 
 which were produced immediately after his death, have perished, as have also fifteen 
 
 * This extract was first correctly printed by the 1841 editor of Campbell's " Speci- 
 mens, " who also showed that "stranger" meant nothing more than non-parishioner. 
 But he failed to point out that March 1638 meant March 16391101 March, 1639-40. 
 This was left to Mr. Collier in his " Memoirs of Actors," p. xiii. 
 
INTRODUCTORY NOTICE. 
 
 others. A much-damaged transcript of The Parliament of Lave was discovered by 
 Malone, who made it over to Gifford, when he first announced his intention of 
 becoming the poet's editor. In sending it to him Malone said, "the piece is in such a 
 mutilated state, wanting the whole of the first act and part of the second (to say nothing 
 of its other defects from damp and time), that it is feared it can be of little use." 
 Gifford worked diligently and reverently, and in six weeks sent Malone a transcript 
 which " quite astonished " the veteran commentator. The circumstances under which 
 Believe as You List was recovered have been already detailed. 
 
 Popular as Massinger must have been during the latter part of his life, he was utterly 
 forgotten during the rule of the Puritans, and scarcely remembered for many years 
 after the Restoration. During this period, indeed, the dramatists of the preceding 
 generation seem to have been valued in proportion as indecency predominated in their 
 writings, and Beaumont and Fletcher were greatly more popular than Shakspeare. 
 But the public taste in every way was perverted, and if others had been as honest 
 as Samuel Pepys we should have had many such records as " To Deptford by 
 water, reading Othello, Moor of Venice, which I ever heretofore esteemed a 
 mighty good play, but having so lately read The Adventures of Five Hourcs, 
 it seems a mean thing" Betterton indeed detected the fine opening which The 
 Bondman and The Roman Actor afforded to his grand powers of declamation,, 
 but it is probable that the exhibition was attended with more pleasure to the player 
 than to the public. At length Nicholas Rowe, sixty-four years after Massinger's death, 
 determined upon collecting and publishing his works, but after mature deliberation 
 considered it more judicious to plunder the dead man rather than attempt to revive 
 him. Nothing can show more decisively the oblivion into which Massinger had fallen 
 than that Rowe should think it possible to escape detection in his wholesale looting. 
 For a time, too, he was thoroughly successful. His " Gay Lothario" took such a hold 
 in the English mind that he still "dwells in the English tongue, and nearly eighty years 
 later, when Johnson pronounced this shameless plagiarism to be " one of the most 
 pleasing tragedies on the stage, where it still keeps its turns of appearing, and probably 
 will long keep them, for there is scarcely any work of any poet at once so interesting 
 by the fable, and so delightful by the language," he was evidently not aware that every- 
 thing in the play really deserving admiration, except the mere harmonious versifica- 
 tion, was the work of another man. And yet Johnson was himself a Shakspearian 
 commentator! Of the baseness and shabbiness of Rowe's conduct in the affair it is 
 impossible to speak with patience, and one feels quite grateful to the Earl of Oxford for 
 leading him that famous dance about the Spanish language. Time too has already put 
 the matter square. The once fashionable Fair Penitetit is read by no one, and will 
 probably never be reprinted, while The Fatal Dowry is perused year after year by in- 
 creasing numbers with increasing admiration. 
 
 " Massinger thus robbed and abandoned by Rowe, was after a considerable time taken 
 up by Coxeter," whose gatherings formed the basis of the first collected edition of r75i. 
 This was re-issued in 1761, with new title-pages and introductory matter by Tom Davies 
 and George Colman, and is considered as the second collected edition. The third was 
 brought out in 1779 by a Mr. John Monck Mason, who mentions in his preface that 
 he had never heard of Massinger till two years before he edited him. It is not William 
 Gifford's fault if everybody who now hears of Massinger does not hear also of John 
 Monck Mason. The gentleman's only crime was his being inferior as an editor to the 
 man who came after him ; and to that man, as he appears in the Massinger volumes, 
 very few " editors " would not be inferior. Gifford's knowledge of books w T as very great, 
 although in the particular line of old English literature he may have been excelled by 
 others who have taken up the same work ; but in knowledge of mankind, in knowledge 
 of the language and ways of thinking of all the different professions and ranks of life in 
 England, none of them have approached him. He had witnessed, while quite a child, his 
 
INTRODUCTORY NOTICE. x j x 
 
 father sinking into the grave overwhelmed with drink and with debt itself a terrible 
 training. He had held the plough ; he had been not only a " ship-boy on the high and 
 giddy mast," but also in the cabin, where for a whole twelvemonth every menial office 
 fell to his lot. He had been apprenticed to a sordid shoemaker, who debarred him 
 from pen, ink, and paper, till he was reduced " to beat out pieces of leather as smooth 
 as possible, and work his problems upon them with a blunted awl." He had been the 
 object of " A subscription for purchasing the remaining time of William Giftbrd, and 
 for enabling him to improve himself in writing and English grammar." He had 
 at last received the full benefits of an Oxford education, and had been invited per- 
 manently, to reside on terms of affection and esteem with one of the greatest noblemen 
 of England. Few men have ever passed through such a varied career, and a careful 
 student of his notes on Massinger will find that there is hardly a portion of that career 
 which has not been made to throw light on the text of his author. Besides this, he 
 was gifted with an enthusiasm which led him to regard Massinger first, and Ben Jonson 
 afterwards, with the fierce affection which a tigress bears to her cubs. He considered 
 that Coxeter and Monck Mason had not done their duty by Massinger, and there is 
 hardly a page in his four thick volumes in which one or other of these gentlemen was 
 not sneered at, or snarled at, or loaded with gross abuse. Charles Lamb, in some of 
 those charming notes which he appended to his " Specimens of the English Dramatic 
 Poets," had, as I venture to think unjustly, underrated the powers of Massinger, as 
 compared with some of the less known of his contemporaries, and this no doubt was the 
 cause of that unhappy passage in the Quarterly Review, for the writing of which Giftbrd 
 is said to have sorrowed with the same depth of feeling which actuated Sir William 
 Napier when he wrote his noble letter to the mother of Sir James Outram. The result 
 of these qualities and qualifications was the production of what is said to be the very 
 best edition that has ever appeared of an old English writer. I am told, on competent 
 authority, that the same pains are not by any means visible in his reproduction of Ford 
 and Ben Jonson, while he shows himself, if possible, still more acrimonious and 
 abusive; and his shafts being too often covertly aimed at higher game than those 
 small deer Mason and Coxeter, whom nobody cares to be angry about, the notes 
 are less amusing, and appear to have a great deal more of arrogance and self- 
 assertion. 
 
 Of all the critics who have written upon Massinger, Hallam probably was the ablest, 
 and he is certainly the one who has assigned him the highest position. As a tragic 
 writer he appears to him second only to Shakspeare ; and, in the higher comedy, he 
 can hardly think him inferior to Jonson. His genius, he says, was not eminently 
 pathetic, nor energetic enough to display the utmost intensity of devotion, but it 
 " abounded in sweetness and dignity," was "apt to delineate the loveliness of virtue, 
 and to delight in its recompense after trial." " His most striking excellence is his 
 conception of character," and in this he inclines to place him above Fletcher, and, if 
 he may venture to say it, above Jonson also. " He is free from the hard outline of 
 the one, and the negligent looseness of the other." He thinks him deficient in variety, 
 and somewhat given to repetition. He shows great mastery in the delineation of vil- 
 lains, but "his own disposition led him more willingly to pictures of moral beauty. A 
 peculiar refinement, a mixture of gentleness and benignity with noble daring belong 
 to some of his favourite characters ; to Pisander in The Bondman, to Antonio in A Very 
 Woman, to Charalois in The Fatal Dmvry. It may be readily supposed that his female 
 characters are not wanting in these graces. He seems to have more variety in his 
 .women than in the other sex, and that they are less mannered than the heroines of 
 Fletcher. A slight degree of error or passion in Sophia, Eudocia, Marcelia, without 
 weakening our sympathy, serves both to prevent the monotony of perpetual rectitude, 
 so often insipid in fiction, and to bring forward the development of the story." 
 
 " Next to the grace and dignity of sentiment in Massinger " Hallam praises the 
 
INTRODUCTORY NOTICE. 
 
 same qualities in h : s style. " Every modern critic has been struck by the peculiar 
 beauty of his language. In his harmonious swell of numbers, in his pure and 
 genuine idiom, which a text by good fortune and the diligence of its last editor, far less 
 corrupt than that of Fletcher, enables us to enjoy, we find an unceasing charm. The 
 poetical talents of Massinger were very considerable, his taste superior to that of his 
 contemporaries ; the colouring of his imagery is rarely overcharged ; a certain redun- 
 dancy as some may account it, gives fulness, or whac the painters would call impasto, 
 to his style, and if it might not always conduce to effect on the stage, is on the whole 
 suitable to the character of his composition." 
 
 To say that a writer is in tragedy second only to Shakspeare, and in the higher 
 comedy not inferior to Jonson, while in conception of character he excels both Ben 
 and Fletcher, is in effect to assign him the highest place among the illustrious brethren 
 of the unapproachable Swan of Avon. Charles Lamb has pronounced a very different 
 verdict, and regarding their merits from his own special and peculiar point of view, no 
 one will be inclined to dispute the opinions he has expressed. His love and reverence 
 for these old writers was so extreme that he dealt with them as a connoisseur of 
 another description deals with his cabinet of costly liqueurs. He treated them like the 
 most precious cordials, pouring them into the smallest glasses, and only allowing them 
 to trickle drop by drop over his palate. In this way, and 'in this way alone, in my 
 humble opinion, could he have arrived at the conclusion that Massinger was vastly 
 inferior in the higher branches of poetic art, not to Ford and Webster only, but to 
 Decker, Marston, Middleton, Heywood, Tourneur, Rowley, and others. But Mas- 
 singer, above any writer with whom I am acquainted, requires to be judged of in the 
 full draught. Not only should no scene or no act be read separately, but for the 
 thorough relish of him too great a pause should not be made between play and play. 
 Hallam, I have no doubt, penned his criticism fresh from a continuous perusal of this 
 nature, and I can easily understand, therefore, how two judges, each in his way so 
 admirably qualified as himself and Lamb, should have arrived at such very opposite 
 conclusions. Am I wrong in thinking that the general opinion of the public sides 
 with the historian of the Middle Ages rather than with the author of the Essays of 
 Elia? Massinger, indeed, never has occupied, and never will occupy, the same space in 
 the public eye, or the same place in the public heart, which has long been filled by 
 Rare Old Ben. He was certainly not his equal in general literary abilities; and in 
 that most popular of all accomplishments, the art of paying exquisite compliments, 
 whether in polished and honeyed stanzas, or in vigorous though rugged couplets, Jonson 
 is altogether without an equal. Massinger could never have written the marvellous 
 "Drink to me only with thine eyes," the "Epitaph on the Countess of Pembroke," the 
 lines on " Lord Bacon's Birthday," or those "To the memory of my beloved Master 
 William Shakspeare." It only remains now to speak of Massinger's art in the con- 
 struction and conduct of his plots, and on this point a writer may be quoted whose 
 authority on such a question admits of no dispute. " Although Massinger's plays," 
 says Sir Walter Scott, "are altogether irregular, yet he well understood the advantage 
 of a strong and defined interest;/and in unravelling the intricacy of his intrigues, he 
 often displays the management of a master. Art, therefore, not perhaps in its technical,. 
 but in its most valuable sense, was Massinger's as well as Jonson's, and in point of 
 composition, many passages of his plays are not unworthy of Shakespeare. Were we 
 to distinguish Massinger's peculiar excellence, we should name that first of dramatic 
 attributes, a full conception of character, a strength in bringing out, and consistency in 
 adhering to it. He does not indeed always introduce his personages to the audience in 
 their own proper character ; it dawns forth gradually in the progress of the piece, as ia 
 the hypocritical Luke or the heroic Marullo. But upon looking back we are always 
 surprised and delighted to trace from the very beginning intimations of what the per- 
 sonage is to prove as the play advances." 
 
INTRODUCTORY NOTICE. xxi 
 
 The following notes on the various printed Plays would have been inserted in the 
 Narrative, but for the fear of making it even more confused than it already is. 
 
 [THE VIRGIN-MARTYR.] Of this Tragedy, which appears to have been very 
 popular, there are four editions in quarto, 1622, 1631, 1651, and 1661; the last of 
 which is infinitely the worst. It is not possible to ascertain when it was first produced, 
 but it was certainly amongst the author's earliest efforts. In the composition of it, he 
 was assisted by Decker, a poet of no mean reputation, and the writer of several plays 
 much esteemed by his contemporaries. W. G. 
 
 Charles Lamb extracts the scene between Angelo and Dorothea (p. 9), and says, 
 "This scene has beauties of so very high an order that, with all my respect for 
 Massinger, I do not think he had poetical enthusiasm capable of furnishing them. 
 His associate Decker, who wrote Old Fartunatus, had poetry enough for any- 
 thing. The very impurities which obtrude themselves among the sweet pieties of this 
 play (like Satan among the Sons of Heaven) have a strength of contrast, a raciness, 
 and a glow in them, which are above Massinger. They set off the religion of the rest, 
 somehow as Caliban serves to show Miranda." 
 
 This play was frequently patched and altered. In Sir George Buck's Office-book is 
 the following entry, "1620, Oct. 6. For new reforming The Virgin-Martyr for the 
 Red Bull, 405.;" and in Sir Henry Herbert's book, " 1624, July 7. Received for the 
 adding of a new scene to The Virgin-Martyr, ios." 
 
 [THE UNNATURAL COMBAT.] Of this tragedy there is but one edition, which was 
 printed for John Waterson, in 1639^ It does not occur in Sir Henry Herbert's Office- 
 book; so that it is probably of a very early date; and indeed Massinger himself calls it 
 an " old tragedy." Like the Virgin-Martyr, it has neither Prologue nor Epilogue, 
 for which the author accounts in his Dedication by observing that the play was composed 
 at a time "when such by-ornaments were not advanced above the fabric of the whole 
 work." It is said in the title-page to have been "presented by the King's Majesty's 
 i Servants, at the Globe." W. G. 
 
 [THE DUKE OF MILAN.] Of this tragedy there are two editions in quarto; the 
 first, which is very correct, and now very rare, bears date 1623; the other, of little 
 value, 1638. It does not appear in the Office-book of the licenser; from which we 
 may be pretty certain that it was among the author's earliest performances. It is said, 
 in the title-page, to " have been often acted by His Majesty's servants at the Black 
 Friars." W. G. 
 
 [THE BONDMAN.] The Bondman was allowed by the Master of the Revels, and 
 performed at the Cockpit in Drury Lane, on the 3rd December, 1623. It was printed, 
 in the following year, and again in 1638. This last edition is full of errors. Mr. 
 W. C. Hazlitt mentions two editions of 1638. 
 
 [THE RENEGADO.] This tragi-comedy, for so Massinger terms it, appears, from the 
 Office-book of the Master of the Revels, to have been first produced on the stage 
 April 1 7th, 1624 : it was not given to the public till several years after; the entry in 
 the Stationers' Register, bearing date March 6th, 1629-30. It is said in the title-page 
 to have been "often acted by the Queen's Majesty's servants at the private playhouse in 
 Drury Lane." W. G. 
 
 [THE PARLIAMENT OF LOVE.] A comedy of this name was entered on the books, 
 of the Stationers' Company, June 29th, 1660 ; and a manuscript play so called, and said 
 to be written by W. Rowley, was in the number of those destroyed by Mr. Warburton's, 
 
xxii INTRODUCTORY NOTICE. 
 
 servant. I suspect this to be the drama before us. It is, beyond all possibility of doubt, 
 the genuine work of Massinger, and was licensed for the stage by Sir H. Herbert on the 
 3rd June, 1624. I have elsewhere mentioned my obligations to Mr. Malone for the use 
 of the manuscript. The play was acted at the Cockpit in Drury Lane. W. G. It 
 was first printed by Gifford in 1805. 
 
 [THE ROMAN ACTOR.] This tragedy was licensed by Sir H. Herbert, Oct. nth, 
 1626, and given to the press in 1629. This play was successful in the representation, 
 ana appears to have been well received by the critics of those times, since it is preceded 
 by commendatory copies of verses from Ford, Harvey, May, Taylor, and others. Taylor, 
 an admirable actor, who played the part of Paris, calls it "the best of many good;" 
 and Massinger himself declares that he " ever held it as the most perfect birth of his 
 Minerva." Too much stress must not be laid upon this expression; it is proper in 
 adverting to it, to consider how few dramatic pieces Massinger had produced when it 
 was used. 
 
 This tragedy was revived by Betterton, who took for himself the part of Paris, in 
 which he was highly celebrated. The old title-page says that it had been " divers times 
 acted with good allowance, at the private playhouse in the Black Friars, by the King's 
 Majesty's servants." W. G. 
 
 [THE GREAT DUKE OF FLORENCE.] The " Great Duke" was licensed by Sir H. 
 Herbert for the "Queen's Servants," July 5th, 1627. This, Mr. Malone conjectures 
 with every appearance of probability, to be the " Comical History " before us. This 
 play was not committed to the press till 1636, when it was preceded by two commen- 
 datory copies of verses by G. Donne and J. Ford. Though highly, and indeed 
 deservedly popular, it was not reprinted. It was acted " by her Majesty's servants at 
 the Phcenix in Drury Lane," where, the title adds, it was " often presented." W. G. 
 
 [THE MAID OF HONOUR.] This tragi-comedy does not appear, under the present 
 title, in the Office-book of Sir H. Herbert; but a play called The Honour of Women 
 was entered there May 6th, 1628, which Mr. Malone conjectures to be the piece before 
 us. He speaks, however, with some hesitation on the subject, as a play of Massinger's, 
 called the Spanish Viceroy ; or, the Honour of Women, was entered at Stationers' Hall 
 for Humphrey Moseley in 1653. Mr. Malone says that the Maid of Honour was printed 
 in 1631. All the copies which I have seen (for there is but one edition) are dated 1632, 
 which was probably the earliest period of its appearance. This play was always a 
 favourite, and, indeed, with strict justice ; for it has a thousand claims to admiration ; 
 and applause. It was frequently acted, the old title-page tells us, "at the Phcenix in 
 Drury Lane, with good allowance, by the Queen's Majesties Servants." W. G. 
 
 [THE PICTURE.] This tragi-comedy, or as the old 410 calls it, this "true Hun- 
 garian History," was licensed by Sir H. Herbert, June 8th, 1629. The play was 
 much approved at its first appearance, when it was acted, as the phrase is, by the whole 
 strength of the house. Massinger himself speaks of it with complacency; and, indeed, 
 its claims to admiration are of no common kind. It was printed in 1630, but seems 
 not to have reached a second edition. It is said, in the title-page, to have been "often 
 presented at the Globe and Black Friar's playhouses by the King's Majesty's servants." 
 An unsuccessful attempt was made to revive this play by the Rev. Henry Bate: Magnis 
 excidit ausis. We tolerate no magic now but Shakspeare's, and, without it, the Picture 
 can have but little interest. W.G. 
 
 Charles Lamb quotes the first scene of Act I., and adds, "The good sense, rational 
 fondness, and chastised feeling of this dialogue, make it more valuable than many of 
 
INTRODUCTORY NOTICE. xxiii 
 
 those scenes in which this writer has attempted a deeper passion and more tragical 
 interest. Massinger had not the higher requisites of his art in anything like the degree 
 in which they were possessed by Ford, Webster, Tourneur, Heywood and others. He 
 never. shakes or disturbs the mind with grief. He is read with composure and placid 
 delight. He wrote with that equability of all the passions, which made his English I 
 style the purest and most free from violent metaphors and harsh constructions of any 
 of the dramatists who were his contemporaries." 
 
 [THE EMPEROR OF THE EAST.] This tragi-comedy was licensed for the stage, 
 March nth, 1631, and printed in the following year. Notwithstanding the excellence 
 of this play it met with some opposition at its first appearance; its distinguished 
 merits, however, procured it a representation at Court, and it finally seems to have 
 grown into very general favour. It was frequently acted, as the title-page tells us, " at 
 the Black Friars and Globe Play-houses, by the King's Majesty's Servants." W.G. 
 
 [THE FATAL DOWRY;] This most excellent tragedy does not appear to have been 
 licensed by Sir H. Herbert, nor is it accompanied by any prologue or epilogue; circum- 
 stances from which Mr. Malone concludes that it was produced previous to 1620. 
 However this may be, it was not printed till 1632, before which time the title-page 
 says it " had been often acted at the private house in Blackfriars, by his Majesty's 
 Servants." Massinger was assisted in the writing of it by Nathaniel Field. 
 
 From this play Rowe borrowed, or, according to Cicero's distinction, stole, the plan 
 of the Fair Penitent, a performance by which he is now chiefly known. W.G. 
 
 Richard Cumberland in an elaborate and masterly criticism has established the im- 
 measurable superiority of the old dramatist over his copyist. I have ventured to insert 
 the songs in their proper places, and in one of them to print a single line as a couplet, 
 of which no one will dispute the propriety. The songs were retained by Gifford in 
 ignominious banishment, but at p. 377 the dramatic action was injured by their 
 absence. 
 
 [A NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS.] This comedy does not appear in Sir Henry- 
 Herbert's book ; it must, however, have been produced on the stage before 1633, in 
 which year it had been printed for Henry Scyle. It was extremely well received on 
 its first appearance, and, as the quarto informs us, "often acted at the Phoenix, in 
 Drurie Lane." It has been revived at different periods with considerable success, and 
 still holds a distinguished place on the stage. W.G. 
 
 Hallam says very truly that Sir Giles Overreach is an "original, masterly, and inimi- 
 table conception," and sufficient of itself to establish the rank of Massinger in this great 
 province of dramatic art. 
 
 [THE CITY MADAM.] This comedy, of which it is not easy to speak in appropriate 
 terms of praise, was licensed by Sir Henry Herbert, May 25th, 1632, and acted by the 
 King's Company. It was received, as the quarto says, with great applause ; but was 
 kept in the players' hand till 1659, when it was given to the press by Andrew Penny- 
 cuicke, one of the actors. I have seen one copy with the date 1658 on the title. It 
 was probably thrown off in 1658-59. W. G. 
 
 [THE GUARDIAN.] This "Comical History" was licensed by the Master of the 
 Revels, October 3151, 1633, but not printed till 1655, when it was put to the press, 
 together with the Bashful Lover, and the Very Woman, by Humphrey Moseley, the 
 general publisher of that age. This popular drama was produced "at the private 
 house in Black-fryers." From a memorandum in the Office-book of Sir Henry 
 Herbert, we learn that shortly after its appearance it was acted before the king. " The 
 
INTRODUCTORY NOTICE. 
 
 Guardian, a play of Mr. Massinger's, was performed at Court on Sunday, the i2th of 
 January, 1633, by the king's players and well likte." W. G. 
 
 [A VERY WOMAN.] This " tragi-comedy," as it is called, was licensed for the stage, 
 June 6th, 1634. From the prologue it appears to be a revision of a former play which 
 Jiad been well received, and which the author modestly insinuates that he was induced 
 to review by the command of his patron. If this patron was, as it has been supposed, 
 the Earl of Pembroke, we are indebted to him for one of the most delightful composi- 
 tions in the English language. The present play was most favourably received ; and 
 often acted, the old title-page says, " at the private house in Black Friars, by his late 
 Majesty's Servants, with great applause." Its popularity seems to have tempted the 
 author's good friend, Sir Aston Cockaine, to venture on an imitation of it, which he 
 has executed, not very happily, in his comedy of The Obstinate Lady. It was printed 
 with The Bashful Lover and The Guardian in 1655. W. G. 
 
 [THE BASHFUL LOVER.] This tragi-comedy was licensed by the Master of the 
 Revels, May 9th, 1636. It is the latest of Massinger's pieces which are come down to 
 us, though he continued to write for the stage to the period of his death, which 
 happened about four years after the date of the present play. It was extremely well 
 received at its first appearance ; it continued to be a favourite, and was " often acted," 
 the old copy says, " by his late Majesty's servants with great applause." It was per- 
 formed at Blackfriars. This play, together with The Guardian and A Very Woman, 
 was printed in Svo by H. Moseley, 1655. I know of no prior edition. W. G. 
 
 [THE OLD LAW.] Of this comedy, which is said to have been written by 
 Massinger, Middleton, and Rowley, in conjunction, there is but one edition, the quarto 
 ot 1656, which appears to be a hasty transcript from the prompter's book, made, 
 as I have observed, when the necessities of the actors, now grievously oppressed 
 by the republicans, compelled them for a temporary resource to take advantage of a 
 popular name, and bring forward such pieces as they yet possessed in manuscript. Of 
 Middleton and Rowley I have spoken elsewhere, and need only repeat my persuasion 
 that the share of Massinger in this strange composition is not the most considerable of 
 the three. This drama was very popular. The title of the quarto is " The excellent 
 -comedy called The Old Law, or A New Way to Please You. Acted before the 
 King and Queen at Salisbury House, and at several other places, with great 
 applause." W. G 
 
 Charles Lamb says of it, " There is an exquisiteness of moral sensibility, making one 
 to gush out tears of delight, and a poetical strangeness in all the improbable circum- 
 stances of this wild play, which are unlike anything in the dramas which Massinger 
 wrote alone. The pathos is of a subtler edge. Middleton and Rowley, who assisted in 
 this play, had both of them finer geniuses than their associate." 
 
^^-.^r~ ' ' N-* i ,L^^^^^ 
 
 The Virgin-Martyr. 
 
 DRAMATIS PERSON.-E. 
 
 King 0/Pontus. 
 ~ 
 
 Macedon. 
 ISapritius, Governor 0/"Qiesarea. 
 Theophilus, a zealous persecutor of the 
 
 Christians 
 
 Sempronius, captain <y~Sapritius' guards. 
 Antoninus, J0# fo Sapritius. 
 Macrinus, friend to Antoninus. 
 Harpax, an evil spirit, following Theophilus 
 
 in the shape of a secretary. 
 
 SCENE,- 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 SCENE I. The Governor's Palace. 
 
 Enter Theophilus and Harpax. 
 Thcoph. Come to Cassarea to-night ! 
 Harp. Most true, sir. 
 Theoph. The emperor in person ! 
 Harp. Do I live ? 
 Theoph. 'Tis wondrous strange ! The 
 
 marches of great princes, 
 Like to the motions of prodigious meteors, 
 Are step by step observ'd ; and loud-tongued 
 
 Fame 
 
 The harbinger to prepare their entertainment : 
 And, were it possible so great an army, 
 Though cover 'd with the night, could be so 
 
 near, 
 
 The governor cannot be so unfriended 
 Among the many that attend his person, 
 j But, by some secret means, he should have 
 
 notice 
 'Of Caesar's purpose ; in thi.3, then, excuse 
 
 me, 
 
 If I appear incredulous. 
 Harp. At your pleasure. 
 Theoph. Yet, when I call to mind you 
 
 never fail'd me 
 
 In things more difficult, but have discover'd 
 Deeds that were done thousand leagues 
 
 distant from me, 
 "When neither woods, nor caves, nor secret 
 
 vaults, 
 
 No, nor the Power they serve, could keep 
 these Christians 
 
 Angelo, a good spirit, serving Dorothea in 
 
 the habit of a page. 
 
 Hircius, a whoremaster, \ servants of 
 Spungius, a drunkard, j Dorothea. 
 
 -Q eta n ' servants 0/" Theophilus. 
 
 Priest of Jupiter. 
 
 British slave. 
 
 Artemia, daughter to Dioclesian. 
 
 Calista, ) , , , 
 
 Christeta, j dau S htcrs to Theophilus. 
 
 Dorothea, the Virgin-Martyr. 
 
 Officers and Executioners. 
 
 Cnesarea. 
 
 Or from my reach or punishment, but thy 
 
 magic 
 
 Still laid them open ; I begin again 
 To be as confident as heretofore, 
 It is not possible thy powerful art 
 Should meet a check, or fail. 
 
 Enter the Priest of Jupiter, bearing aft 
 
 Image, and followed by Calista and 
 
 Christeta. 
 
 Harp. Look on the Vestals, 
 The holy pledges that the gods have given 
 
 you, 
 Your chaste, fair daughters. Wer't not to 
 
 upbraid 
 
 A service to a master not unthankful, 
 I could say these, in spite of your prevention, 
 Seduced by an imagined faith, not reason, 
 (Which is the strength of nature,) quite 
 
 forsaking 
 
 The Gentile gods, had yielded up themselves 
 To this new-found religion. This I cross 'd, 
 Discover'd their intents, taught you to use, 
 With gentle words and mild persuasions, 
 The power and the authority of a father, 
 Set off with cruel threats ; and so reclaim'd 
 
 them : 
 And, whereas they with torment should 
 
 have died, 
 (Hell's furies to me, had they undergone 
 
 it !) {Aside. 
 
 They are now votaries in great Jupiter's 
 
 temple, 
 
 And, by his priest instructed, grown familiar 
 
 B 
 
THE VIRGIN-MARTYR. 
 
 With all the mysteries, nay, the most ab- 
 struse ones, 
 Belonging to his deity. 
 
 Theoph. Twas a benefit, 
 For which I ever owe you. Hail, Jove's 
 
 flamen ! 
 
 Have these my daughters reconciled them- 
 selves, 
 
 Abandoning for ever the Christian way, 
 To your opinion ? 
 
 Priest. And are constant in it. 
 They teach their teachers with their depth 
 
 of judgment, 
 
 And are with arguments able to convert 
 The enemies to our gods, and answer all 
 They can object against us. 
 
 Theoph. My dear daughters ! 
 
 Cal. We dare dispute against this new- 
 sprung sect, 
 In private or in public. 
 
 Harp. My best lady, 
 Persever in it. 
 
 Chris. And what we maintain, 
 We will seal with our bloods. 
 
 Harp. Brave resolution ! 
 I e'en grow fat to see my labours prosper. 
 
 Theoph. I young again. Toyourdevotions. 
 
 Harp. Do 
 My prayers be present with you. 
 
 \Exeunt Priest, Cal. and Chris. 
 
 Theoph. O my Harpax ! 
 Thou engine of my wishes, thou that steel'st 
 My bloody resolutions, thou that arm'st 
 My eyes 'gainst womanish tears and soft 
 
 compassion, 
 
 Instructing me, without a sigh, to look on 
 Babes torn by violence from their mothers 
 
 breasts 
 To feed the fire, and with them make one 
 
 flame ; 
 Old men, as beasts, in beasts' skins torn by 
 
 dogs; 
 
 Virgins and matrons tire the executioners ; 
 Yet I, unsatisfied, think their torments easy 
 
 Harp. And in that, just, not cruel. 
 
 Theoph. Were all sceptres 
 That grace the hands of kings, made into one, 
 And offer'd me, all crowns laid at my feet, 
 I would contemn them all, thus spit at them ; 
 So I to all posterities might be call'd 
 The strongest champion of the Pagan gods, 
 And rooter out of Christians. 
 
 Harp. Oh, mine own, 
 Mine own dear lord ! to further this great 
 
 work, 
 I ever live thy slave. 
 
 Enter Sapritius and Sempronius. 
 Theoph. No more The governor. 
 
 Sap. Keep the ports close, and let the 
 
 guards be doubled ; 
 
 Disarm the Christians ; call it death in any 
 To wear a sword, or in his house to have one. 
 Semp. I shall be careful, sir. 
 Sap. 'Twill well become you. 
 Such as refuse to offer sacrifice 
 To any of our gods, put to the torture. 
 Grub up this growing mischief by the roots ; 
 And know, when we are merciful to them, 
 We to ourselves are cruel. 
 
 Semp. You pour oil 
 
 On fire that burns already at the height : 
 I know the emperor's erf jet,, and my charge, 
 And they shall find no favour. 
 
 Theoph. My good lord, 
 This care is timely for the entertainment 
 Of our great master, who this night in person 
 Comes here to thank you. 
 Sap. Who ! the emperor? 
 Harp. To clear your doubts, he doth re- 
 turn in triumph, 
 
 Kings lackeying by his triumphant chariot ; 
 And in this glorious victory, my lord, 
 You havean ample share : for know, yourson, 
 The ne'er-enough commended Antoninus, 
 So well hath flesh'd his maiden sword, and 
 
 dyed 
 
 His snowy plumes so deep in enemies' blood, 
 That, besides public grace beyond his hopes, 
 There are rewards propounded. 
 
 Sap. I would know 
 No mean in thine, could this be true. 
 
 Harp. My head 
 Answer the forfeit. 
 
 Sap. Of his victory 
 
 There was some rumour : but it was assured. 
 The army pass'd a full day's journey higher, 
 Into the country. 
 
 Harp. It was so determined ; 
 But, for the further honour of your son, 
 And to observe the government of the city, 
 And with what rigour, or remiss indulgence, 
 The Christians are pursued, he makes his 
 stay here : \Trumpets. 
 
 For proof, his trumpets speak his near arrival. 
 Sap. Haste, good Sempronius, draw up 
 
 our guards. 
 
 And with all ceremonious pomp receive 
 The conquering army. Let our garrison speak 
 Their welcome in loud shouts, the city shew 
 Her state and wealth. 
 Semp. I'm gone. 
 Sap. O, I am ravish'd 
 With this great honour ! cherish, good Theo- 
 
 philus, 
 This knowing scholar. Send [for] your fair 
 
 daughters ; 
 I will present them to the emperor, 
 
THE VIRGIN-MARTYR. 
 
 And in their sweet conversion, as a mirror, 
 Express your zeal and duty. 
 
 Theoph. Fetch them, good Harpax. 
 
 [Exit Harpax. 
 
 Enter Sempronius, at the head of the guard, 
 soldiers leading three kings bound ; An- 
 toninus and Macrinus bearing the Em- 
 peror's eagles ; Dioclesian with a gilt 
 laurel on his head, leading in Artemia : 
 Sapritius kisses the Emperor's hand, 
 then embraces his Son ; Harpax brings 
 in Calista and Christeta. Loud shouts. 
 
 Diode. So : at all parts I find Caesarea 
 Completely govern'd : the licentious soldier 
 Confined in modest limits, and the people 
 Taught to obey, and not compell'd with 
 
 rigour : 
 
 The ancient Roman discipline revived, 
 Which raised Rome to her greatness, and 
 
 proclaim'd her 
 
 The glorious mistress of the conquer'd world ; 
 But, above all, the service of the gods, 
 So zealously observed, that, good Sapritius, 
 In words to thank you for your care and duty, 
 Were much unworthy Dioclesian's honour, 
 Or his magnificence to his loyal servants. 
 But I shall find a time with noble titles 
 To recompense your merits. 
 
 Sap. Mightiest Caesar, 
 Whose power upon this globe of earth is equal 
 To Jove's in heaven ; whose victorious 
 
 triumphs 
 
 On proud rebellious kings that stir against it, 
 Are perfect figures of his immortal trophies 
 Won in the Giants' war ; whose conquering 
 
 sword, 
 
 Guided by his strong arm, as deadly kills 
 As did His thunder ! all that I have done, 
 Or, if my strength were centupled, could do, 
 Comes short of what my loyalty must chal- 
 lenge, 
 
 But, if in anything I have deserved 
 Great Ccesar's smile, 'tis in my humble care 
 Still to preserve the honour of those gods, 
 That make him what he is : my zeal to them 
 I ever have express'd in my fell hate 
 Against the Christian sect that, with one blow, 
 (Ascribing all things to an unknown Power, ) 
 Would strike down all their temples, and 
 
 allows them 
 Nor sacrifice nor altars. 
 Diode. Thou, in this, 
 Walk'st hand in hand with me : my will and 
 
 power 
 
 Shall not alone confirm, but honour all 
 That are in this most forward. 
 
 Sap. Sacred Caesar, 
 If your imperial majesty stand pleased 
 
 To shower your favours upon such as are 
 The boldest champions of our religion ; 
 Look on this reverend man, \j>oints to Theo- \ 
 
 philusj] to whom the power 
 Of searching out, and punishing such delin- 
 quents, 
 Was by your choice committed ; and, for ; 
 
 proof, 
 He hath deserved the grace imposed upon ' 
 
 him, 
 
 And with a fair and even hand proceeded. 
 Partial to none, not to himself, or those 
 Of equal nearness to himself ; behold 
 This pair of virgins. 
 Diode. What are these ? 
 Sap. His daughters. 
 Artem. Now by your sacred fortune, they j 
 
 are fair ones, 
 Exceeding fair ones : would 'twere in my 
 
 power 
 To make them mine ! 
 
 Theoph. They are the gods', great lady, 
 They were most happy in your service else ! 
 On these, when they fell from their father's 
 
 faith, 
 
 I used a judge's power, entreaties failing 
 (They being seduced) to win them to adore 
 The holy Powers we worship ; I put on 
 The scarlet robe of bold authority, 
 And, as they had been strangers to my blood. 
 Presented them in the most horrid form, 
 All kinds of tortures ; part of which they 
 
 suffer'd 
 With Roman constancy. 
 
 Artem. And could you endure, 
 Being a father, to behold their limbs 
 Extended on the rack ? 
 
 Theoph. I did ; but must 
 Confess there was a strange contention in me,. 
 Between the impartial office of a judge, 
 And pity of a father ; to help justice 
 Religion stept in, under which odds 
 Compassion fell : yet still I was a father. 
 For e'en then, when the flinty hangman's ' 
 
 whips 
 Were worn with stripes spent on their tender 
 
 limbs, 
 I kneel'd, and wept, and begg'd them, ' 
 
 though they would 
 
 Be cruel to themselves, they would take pity 
 On mygrey hairs : nownote a sudden change. 
 Which I with joy remember ; those, whom 
 
 torture, 
 
 Nor fear of death could terrify, were o'ercomc; 
 By seeing of my sufferings ; and so won, 
 Returning to thefaith that they were born in,. 
 I gave them to the gods. And be assured, 
 I that used justice with a rigorous hand, 
 Upon such beauteous virgins, and mine own, . 
 
THE VIRGIN-MARTYR. 
 
 Will use no favour, where the cause com- 
 mands me, 
 
 To any other ; but, as rocks, be deaf 
 To all' entreaties. 
 
 Diode. Thou deserv'st.thy place ; 
 Still hold it, and with honour. Things 
 
 thus order'd 
 
 Touching the gods, 'tis lawful to descend 
 To human cares, and exercise that power 
 Heaven has conferr'd upon me ; which that 
 
 you, 
 
 Rebels and traitors to the power of Rome, 
 Should not with all extremities undergo, 
 What can you urge to qualify your crimes, 
 Or mitigate my anger ! 
 
 K. of Epire. We are now 
 Slaves to thy power, that yesterday were j 
 
 kings, 
 
 And had command o'er others ; we confess 
 Our grandsires paid yours tribute, yet left us, 
 As their forefathers had, desire of freedom. 
 And, if you Romans hold it glorious honour, 
 Not only to defend what is your own, 
 But to enlarge your empire, (though our 
 
 fortune 
 
 Denies that happiness,) who can accuse 
 The famish 'd mouth, if it attempt to feed? 
 Or such, whose fetters eat into their free- 
 doms, 
 If they desire to shake them off? 
 
 K. ofPontus. We stand 
 The last examples, to prove how uncertain 
 All human happiness is ; and are prepared 
 To endure the worst. 
 K. of Macedon. That spoke, which now 
 
 is highest 
 In Fortune's wheel, must, when she turns it 
 
 next, 
 
 Decline as low as we are. This consider'd, 
 Taught the ./Egyptian Hercules, Sesostris, 
 That had his chariot drawn by captive kings, ' 
 To free them from that slavery ; but to hope 
 Such mercy from a Roman, were mere 
 
 madness : 
 
 We are familiar with what cruelty 
 Rome, since her infant greatness, ever used 
 Such as she triumph'd over ; age nor sex 
 Exempted from her tyranny ; scepter'd 
 
 princes 
 Kept in her common dungeons, and their 
 
 children, 
 
 In scorn train 'd up in base mechanic arts, 
 For public bondmen. In the catalogue 
 Of those unfortunate men, we expect to have 
 Our names remember d. 
 
 Diode. In all growing empires, 
 Even cruelty is useful ; some must suffer, 
 And be set up examples to strike terror 
 In others, though far off : but, when a state 
 
 Is raised to her perfection, and her bases 
 Too firm to shrink, or yield, we may use 
 
 mercy, 
 And do't with safety : but to whom ? not 
 
 cowards, 
 
 Or such whose baseness shames the con- 
 queror, 
 
 And robs him of his victor}', as weak Perseus 
 Did great ^Emilius. Know, therefore, kings 
 Of Epire, Pontus, and of Macedon, 
 That I with courtesy can use my prisoners, 
 As well as make them mine by force, pro- 
 vided 
 That they are noble enemies : such I found 
 
 you, 
 Before I made you mine ; and, since you 
 
 were so, 
 
 You have not lost the courages of princes, 
 Although the fortune. Had you borne your- 
 selves 
 
 Dejectedly, and base, no slavery 
 Had been too easy for you : but such is 
 The power of noble valour, that we love it 
 Even in our enemies, and taken with it, 
 Desire to make them friends, as I will you. 
 
 K. of Epire. Mock us not, Caesar. 
 
 Diode. By the gods, I do not. 
 Unloose their bonds : I now as friends 
 
 embrace you. 
 Give them their crowns again. 
 
 K. of Pontus. We are twice o'ercome ; 
 By courage, and by courtesy. 
 
 K. of Macedon. But this latter, 
 Shall teach us to live ever faithful vassals 
 To Dioclesian, and the power of Rome. 
 
 K. of Epire. All kingdoms fall before her ! 
 
 K. of Pontus. And all kings 
 Contend to honour Caesar ! 
 
 Diode. I believe 
 Your tongues are the true trumpets of your 
 
 hearts, 
 
 And in it I most happy. Queen of fate, 
 Imperious Fortune ! mix some light disaster 
 With my so many joys, to season them, 
 And give them sweeter relish : I'm girt round 
 With true felicity ; faithful subjects here, 
 Here bold commanders, here with new-made 
 
 friends : 
 
 But, what's the crown of all, in thee, Artemia, 
 My only child, whose love to me and duty, 
 Strive to exceed each other ! 
 
 A r tern. I make payment 
 But of a debt, which I stand bound to tender 
 As a daughter and a subject. 
 
 Diode. Which requires yet 
 A retribution from me, Artemia, 
 Tied by a father's care, how to bestow 
 A jewel, of all things to me most precious : 
 Nor will I therefore longer keep thee from 
 
THE VIRGIN-MARTYR. 
 
 The chief joys of creation, marriage rites ; 
 Which that thou may'st with greater plea- 
 sures taste of, 
 Thou shalt not like with mine eyes, but thine 
 
 own. 
 Among these kings, forgetting they were 
 
 captives ; 
 
 Or those, remembering not they are my sub- 
 jects, 
 Make choice of any : By Jove's dreadful 
 
 thunder, 
 My will shall rank with thine. 
 
 Artem. It is a bounty 
 The daughters of great princes seldom meet 
 
 with ; 
 
 For they, to make up breaches in the state, 
 Or for some other public ends, are forced 
 To match where they affect not. May my life 
 Deserve this favour ! 
 
 Diode. Speak ; I long to know 
 The man thou wilt make happy. 
 
 Artem. If that titles, 
 
 Or the adored name of Queen could take me, 
 Here would I fix mine eyes, and look no 
 
 further ; 
 
 But these are baits to take a mean-born lady, 
 Not her, that boldly may call Caesar father : 
 In that I can bring honour unto any, 
 But from no king that lives receive addition : 
 To raise desert and virtue by my fortune, 
 Though in a low estate, were greater glory, 
 Than to mix greatness with a prince that 
 
 owes 
 No worth but that name only. 
 
 Diode. I commend thee ; 
 'Tis like myself. 
 
 An cm. If, then, of men beneath me, 
 My choice is to be made, where shall I seek, 
 But among those that best deserve from you ? 
 That have served you most faithfully ; that 
 
 in dangers 
 
 Have stood next to you ; that have interposed 
 Their breasts as shields of proof, to dull the 
 
 swords 
 Aim'd at your bosom ; that have spent their 
 
 blood 
 To crown your brows with laurel ? 
 
 Macr. Cytherea, 
 Great Queen of Love, be now propitious to 
 
 me ! 
 
 Harp, [to Sap.] Now mark what I foretold. 
 Anton. Her eye's on me. 
 Fair Venus' son, draw forth a leaden dart, 
 And, that she may hate me, transfix her 
 
 with it ; 
 
 Or, if thou needs wilt use a golden one, 
 Shoot it in the behalf of any other : 
 Thou know'st I am thy votary elsewhere. 
 
 [Aside. 
 
 Artem. [advances to Anton.) Sir. 
 Thcoph. How he blushes ! 
 Sap. Welcome, fool, thy fortune. 
 Stand like a block when such an angel 
 
 courts thee ! 
 
 Artem. I am no object to divert your eye 
 From the beholding. 
 
 Anton. Rather a bright sun, 
 Too glorious for him to gaze upon, 
 That took not first flight from the eagle's 
 
 aerie. 
 
 As I look on the temples, or the gods, 
 And with that reverence, lady, I behold you. 
 And shall do ever. 
 
 Artem. And it will become you, 
 While thus we stand at distance ; but, if love. 
 Love born out of the assurance of your vir- 
 tues, 
 Teach me to stoop so low 
 
 Anton. O, rather take 
 A higher flight. 
 
 Artem. Why, fear you to be raised ? 
 Say I put off the dreadful awe that waits 
 On majesty, or with you share my beams, 
 Nay, make you to outshine me ; change the 
 
 name 
 
 Of Subject into Lord, rob you of service 
 That's due from you to me, and in me 
 
 make it 
 
 Duty to honour you, would you refuse me ? 
 Anton. Refuse you, madam ! such a worm 
 
 as I am, 
 Refuse what kings upon their knees would 
 
 sue for ! 
 
 Call it, great lady, by another name ; 
 An humble modesty, that would not match 
 A molehill with Olympus. 
 
 Artem. He that's famous 
 For honourable actions in the war, 
 As you are, Antoninus, a proved soldier, 
 Is fellow to a king. 
 
 Anton. If you love valour, 
 As 'tis a kingly virtue, seek it out, 
 And cherish it in a king; there it shines 
 
 brightest, 
 And yields the bravest lustre. Look on 
 
 Epire, 
 
 A prince, in whom it is incorporate ; 
 And let it not disgrace him that he was 
 O'ercome by Caesar ; it was victory, 
 To stand so long against him : had you 
 
 seen him, 
 
 How in one bloody scene he did discharge 
 The parts of a commander and a soldier, 
 Wise in direction, bold in execution ; 
 You would have said, Great Csesar's self ex- 
 
 cepted, 
 
 The world yields not his equal. 
 Arlem. Yet I have heard, 
 
THE VIRGIN-MARTYR. 
 
 Encountering him alone in the head of his 
 
 troop, 
 You took him prisoner. 
 
 K. of Rpire. 'Tis a truth, great princess ; 
 I'll not detract from valour. 
 
 Anton. 'Twas mere fortune ; 
 Courage had no hand in it. 
 
 Theoph. Did ever man 
 Strive so against his own good ? 
 
 Sap. Spiritless villain ! 
 How I am tortured ! By the immortal gods, 
 I now could kill him. 
 
 Diode. Hold, Sapritius, hold, 
 On our displeasure hold ! 
 
 Harp. Why, this would make 
 A father mad ; 'tis not to be endured ; 
 Your honour's tainted in't. 
 
 Sap. By heaven, it is : 
 I shall think of it. 
 
 Harp. 'Tis not to be forgotten. 
 
 Artem. Nay, kneel not, sir, I am no 
 
 ravisher, 
 
 Nor so far gone in fond affection to you, 
 But that I can retire, my honour safe : 
 Yet say, hereafter, that thou hast neglected 
 What, but seen in possession of another, 
 Will make thee mad with envy. 
 
 Anton. In her looks 
 Revenge is written. 
 
 Mac. As you love your life, 
 Study to appease her. 
 
 Anton. Gracious madam, hear me. 
 
 Artem. And be again refused? 
 
 Anton. The tender of 
 My life, my service, or, since you vouch- 
 safe it, 
 
 My love, my heart, myall : and pardon me, 
 Pardon, dread princess, that I made some 
 
 scruple 
 
 To leave a valley of security, 
 To mount up to the hill of majesty, 
 On which, the nearer Jove, the nearer light- 
 ning. 
 What knew I, but your grace made trial 
 
 of me ; 
 Durst 1 presume to embrace, where but to 
 
 touch 
 With an unmanner'd hand, was death? 
 
 the fox, 
 
 When he saw first the forest's king, the lion, 
 Was almost dead with fear ; the second view 
 Only a little daunted him ; the third, 
 He durst salute him boldly : pray you, ap- 
 ply this ; 
 
 And you shall find a little time will teach me 
 To look with more familiar eyes upon you, 
 Than duty yet allows me. 
 
 Sap. Well excused. 
 
 Anem. You may redeem all yet. 
 
 Diode. And, that he may 
 ! Have means and opportunity to do so, 
 I Artemia, I leave you my substitute 
 I In fair Caesarea. 
 
 Sap. And here, as yourself, 
 We will obey and serve her. 
 
 Diode. Antoninus, 
 
 So you prove hers, I wish no other heir ; 
 Think on't : be careful of your charge.Theo- 
 
 philus ; 
 
 Sapritius, be you my daughter's guardian. 
 Your company I wish, confederate princes, 
 In our Dalmatian wars ; which finished 
 With victory I hope, and Maximinus, 
 Our brother and copartner in the empire, 
 At my request won to confirm as much, 
 The kingdoms I took from you we'll restore, 
 And make you greater than you were before. 
 [Exeunt all but Antoninus and Macrinus. 
 Anton. Oh, I am lost for ever! lost, 
 
 Macrinus ! 
 The anchor of the wretched, hope, forsakes 
 
 me, 
 
 And with one blast of Fortune all my light 
 Of happiness is put out. 
 
 Mac. You are like to those 
 That are ill only, 'cause they are too well ; 
 That, surfeiting in the excess of blessings, 
 Call their abundance want. What could you 
 
 wish, 
 
 That isnotfall'nupon you? honour, greatness, 
 Respect, wealth, favour, the whole world for 
 
 a dower ; 
 
 And with a princess, whose excelling form 
 Exceeds her fortune. 
 
 Anton. Yet poison still is poison, 
 Though drunk in gold ; and all these flat- 
 tering glories 
 
 To me, ready to starve, a painted banquet, 
 And no essential food. When I am scorch'd 
 With fire, can flames in any other quench me ! 
 What is her love to me, greatness, or empire, 
 That am slave to another, who alone 
 Can give me ease or freedom ? 
 
 Mac. Sir, you point at 
 Your dotage on the scornful Dorothea : 
 Is she, though fair, the same day to be 
 
 named 
 
 With best Artemia ? In all their courses, 
 Wise men propose their ends : with sweet 
 
 Anemia, 
 
 There comes along pleasure, security, 
 Usher'd by all that in this life is precious : 
 With Dorothea (though her birth be noble, 
 The daughter to a senator of Rome, 
 By him left rich, yet with a private wealth, 
 And far inferior to yours) arrives 
 The emperor's frown, which, like a mortal 
 
 plague, 
 
THE VIRGIN-MARTYR. 
 
 Speaks death is near ; the princess' heavy 
 
 scorn, 
 Under which you will shrink ; your father's 
 
 fury, 
 
 Which to resist, even piety forbids : 
 And but remember that she stands suspected 
 A favourer of the Christian sect ; she brings 
 Not danger, but assured destruction with her. 
 This truly weigh'd, one smile of great Artemia 
 Is to be cherish'd, and preferr'd before 
 All joys in Dorothea : therefore leave her. 
 Anton. In what thou think'st thou art 
 
 most wise, thou art 
 
 Grossly abused, Macrinus, and most foolish. 
 For any man to match above his rank, 
 Is but to sell his liberty. With Artemia 
 I still must live a servant ; but enjoying 
 Divinest Dorothea, I shall rule, 
 Rule as becomes a husband : for the danger, 
 Or call it, if you will, assured destruction, 
 I slight it thus. If, then, thou art my friend, 
 As I dare swear thou art, and wilt not take 
 A governor's place upon thee, be my helper. 
 Mac. You know I dare, and will do any- 
 thing ; 
 Put me unto the test. 
 
 Anton. Go then, Macrinus, 
 To Dorothea ; tell her I have worn, 
 In all the battles I have fought, her figure, 
 Her figure in my heart, which, like a deity, 
 Hath still protected me. Thou canst speak 
 
 well; 
 
 And of thy choicest language spare a little, 
 To make her understand how much I love her, 
 And how I languish for her. Bear these jewels, 
 Sent in the way of sacrifice, not service, 
 As to my goddess : all lets thrown behind me, 
 Or fears that may deter me, say, this morning 
 I mean to visit her by the name of friendship : 
 No words to contradict this. 
 
 Mac. I am yours : 
 
 And, if my travail this way be ill spent, 
 Judge not my readier will by the event. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 SCENE I. A Room in Dorothea's House. 
 Enter Spungius, and Hircius. 
 
 Spun. Turn Christian ! Would he that 
 first' tempted me to have my shoes walk upon 
 Christian soles, had turn'd me into a capon ; 
 for I am sure now, the stones of all my 
 pleasure, in this fleshly life, are cut off. 
 
 Hir. So then, if any coxcomb has a gal- 
 loping desire to ride, here's a gelding, if he 
 can but sit him. 
 
 Spun. I kick, for all that, like a horse ; 
 look else. 
 
 Hir. But that is a kickish jade, fellow 
 Spungius. Have not I as much cause to 
 complain as thou hast ? When I was a pagan, 
 there was an infidel punk of mine, would have 
 let me come upon trust for my curvetting : 
 a pox on your Christian cockatrices ! they 
 cry, like poulterers' wives : no money, no 
 coney. 
 
 Spun. Bacchus, the god of brew'd wine 
 and sugar, grand patron of rob-pots, upsy- 
 freesy tipplers, and super-naculum takers ; 
 this Bacchus, who is head warden of Vintner's- 
 hall, ale-conner, mayor of all victualling- 
 houses, the sole liquid benefactor to bawdy- 
 houses ; lanceprezade to red noses, and in- 
 vincible adelantado over the armado of 
 pimpled, deep-scarleted, rubified, and car- 
 buncled faces 
 
 Hir. What of all this ? 
 
 Spun. This boon Bacchanalian skinker, 
 did I make legs to. 
 
 Hir. Scurvy ones, when thou wert drunk. 
 
 Spun. There is no danger of losing a 
 man's ears by making these indentures ; he 
 that will not now and then be Calabingo, is 
 worse than a Calamoothe. When I was a 
 pagan, and kneeled to this Bacchus, I durst 
 out-drink a lord ; but your Christian lords 
 out-bowl me. I was in hope to lead a sober 
 life, when I was converted ; but, now amongst 
 the Christians, I can no sooner stagger out 
 of one alehouse, but I reel into another : 
 they have whole streets of nothing but drink- 
 ing-rooms, and drabbing-chambers, jumbled 
 together. 
 
 Hir. Bawdy Priapus, the first school- 
 master that taught butchers how to stick 
 pricks in flesh, and make it swell, thou 
 know'st, was the only ningle that I cared 
 for under the moon ; but, since I left him to 
 follow a scurvy lady, what with her praying 
 and our fasting, if now I come to a wench, 
 and offer to use her anything hardly, (telling 
 her, being a Christian, she must endure,) 
 she presently handles me as if I were a clove, 
 and cleaves me with disdain, as if I were a 
 calf s head. 
 
 Spun. I see no remedy, fellow Hircius, 
 but that thou and I must be half pagans, 
 and half Christians ; for we know very fools 
 that are Christians. 
 
 Hir. Right : the quarters of Christians 
 are good for nothing but to feed crows. 
 
 Spun. True : Christian brokers, thou 
 know'st, are made up of the quarters of 
 Christians ; parboil one of these rogues, 
 and he is not meat for a dog : no, no, I am 
 resolved to have an infidel's heart, though in 
 shew I carry a Christian's face. 
 
THE VIRGIN-MARTYR. 
 
 Hir. Thy last shall serve my foot : so 
 will I. 
 
 Spun. Our whimpering lady and mistress 
 sent me with two great baskets full of beef, 
 mutton, veal, and goose, fellow Hircius 
 
 Hir. And woodcock, fellow Spungius. 
 
 Spun. Upon the poor lean ass-fellow, on 
 which I ride, to all the almswomen : what 
 think'st thou I have done with all this good 
 cheer? 
 
 Hir. Eat it ; or be choked else. 
 
 Spun. Would my ass, basket and all, 
 were in thy maw, if I did ! Xo, as I am a 
 demi-pagan, I sold the victuals, and coined 
 the money into pottle pots of wine. 
 
 ////-. Therein thou shewed 'st thyself a 
 perfect demi-Christian too, to let the poor 
 beg, starve, and hang, or die of the pip. 
 Our puling, snotty-nose lady sent me out 
 likewise with a purse of money, to relieve 
 and release prisoners : Did I so, think you? 
 
 Spun. Would thy ribs were turned into 
 grates of iron then. 
 
 Hir. As I am a total pagan , I swore they 
 should be hanged first : for, sirrah Spun- 
 gius, I lay at my old ward of lecher)', and 
 cried, a pox on your two-penny wards ! and 
 so I took scurvy common flesh for the money. 
 
 Spun. And wisely done ; for our lady, 
 sending it to prisoners, had bestowed it out 
 upon lousy knaves : and thou, to save that 
 labour, cast'st it away upon rotten whores. 
 
 Hir. All my fear is of that pink-an-eye 
 jack-an-apes boy, her page. 
 
 Spun. As I am a pagan from my cod- 
 piece downward, that white-faced monkey 
 frights me too. I stole but a dirty pudding', 
 last day, out of an almsbasket, to give my 
 dog when he was hungry, and the peaking 
 chitty-face page hit me in the teeth with it. 
 
 Hir. With the dirty pudding ! so he did 
 me once with a cow-turd, which in knavery 
 I would have crumb'd into one's porridge, 
 who was half a pagan too. The smug dan- 
 ciiprat smells us out, whatsoever we are doing. 
 
 Spun. Does he ? let him take heed I prove 
 not his back-friend : I'll make him curse his 
 smelling what I do. 
 
 Hir. 'Tis my lady spoils the boy ; for he 
 is ever at her tail, and she is never well but 
 in his company. 
 
 Enter Angelo with a book, and a taper 
 lighted ; seeing him, they counterfeit 
 devotion. 
 
 Ang. O ! now your hearts make ladders 
 
 of your eyes, 
 
 In shew to climb to heaven, when your 
 devotion 
 
 Walks upon crutches. Where did you waste 
 
 your time, 
 
 When the religious man was on his knees, 
 Speaking the heavenly language ? 
 
 Spun. W r hy, fellow Angelo, we were 
 speaking in pedlar's French, I hope. 
 
 Hir. We have not been idle, take it upon 
 my word. 
 
 Aug. Have you the baskets emptied, 
 
 which your lady 
 
 Sent, from her charitable hands, to womea 
 That dwell upon her pity ? 
 
 Spun. Emptied them ! yes ; I'd be loth 
 to have my belly so empty': yet, I am sure, 
 I munched not one bit of them neither. 
 
 Ang. And went your money to the ! 
 prisoners ? 
 
 Hir. Went ! no ; I carried it, and with 
 these fingers paid it away. 
 
 Ang. What way? the devil's way, the > 
 
 way of sin, 
 
 The wa'y of hot damnation, way of lust ? 
 And you, to wash away the poor man's bread, , 
 In bowls of drunkenness? 
 
 Spun. Drunkenness ! yes, yes, I use to be 
 drunk ; our next neighbour's man, called 
 Christopher, hath often seen me drunk, hath 
 he not ? 
 
 Hir. Or me given so to the flesh : my 
 cheeks speak my doings. 
 
 Ang. A vaunt, ye thieves, and hollow 
 
 hypocrites ! 
 
 Your hearts to me lie open like black books. 
 And there I read your doings. 
 
 Spun. And what do you read in my heart? 
 
 Hir. Or in mine? come, amiable Angelo, 
 beat the flint of your brains. 
 
 Spun. And let's see what sparks of wit 
 fly out to kindle your cerebrum. 
 
 Ang. Your names even brand you ; you 
 
 are Spungius call'd, 
 And like a spunge, you suck up lickerish 
 
 wines, 
 Till your soul reels to hell. 
 
 Spang. To hell ! can any drunkard's legs 
 earn- him so far ? 
 
 Ang. For blood of grapes you sold the 
 
 widows' food. 
 And, starving them, 'tis murder ; what's 
 
 this but hell ? 
 
 Hirciusyour name, and goatish is your nature; 
 You snatch the meat out of the prisoner's 
 
 mouth, 
 
 To fatten harlots : is not this hull loo ? 
 No angel, but the devil, waits on you. 
 
 Spun. Shall I cut his throat ? 
 
 Hir. Xo ; better burn him, for I think he 
 is a witch : but sooth, sooth him. 
 
 Spun. Fellow Angelo, true it is, that 
 
THE VIRGIN-MARTYR. 
 
 falling into the company of wicked he- 
 Christians, for my part 
 
 Hir. And she ones, for mine, we have 
 them swim in shoals hard by 
 
 Spun. We must confess, I took too much 
 out of the pot ; and he of t'other hollow 
 commodity. 
 
 Hir. Yes, indeed, we laid Jill on both of 
 us ; we cozen'd the poor ; but 'tis a common 
 thing : many a one, that counts himself a 
 better Christian than we two, has done it, 
 by this light ! 
 
 'Spun. But pray, sweet Angelo, play not 
 the tell-tale to my lady ; and, if you take us 
 creeping into any of these mouse-holes of 
 sin any more, let cats flay off our skins. 
 
 Hir. And put nothing but the poison'd 
 tails of rats into those skins. 
 
 Aug. Will you dishonour hersweet charity, 
 Who 'saved you from the tree of death and 
 shame ? 
 
 Hir. Would I were hang'd, rather than 
 thus be told of my faults ! 
 
 Spun. She took us, 'tis true, from the 
 gallows ; yet I hope she will not bar yeomen 
 sprats to have their swing. 
 
 Ang. She comes, beware, and mend. 
 
 Hir. Let's break his neck, and bid him 
 mend. 
 
 Enter Dorothea. 
 
 Dor. Have you my messages, sent to the 
 
 poor, 
 
 Deliver'd with good hands, not robbing them 
 Of any jot was theirs ? 
 
 Spun. Rob them, lady ! I hope neither 
 my fellow nor I am thieves. 
 
 'Hir. Delivered with good hands, madam ! 
 else let me never lick my fingers more when 
 I eat butter'd fish. 
 
 Dor. Who cheat the poor, and from them 
 
 pluck their alms, 
 
 Pilfer from heaven ; and there are thunder- 
 bolts, 
 
 From thence to beat them ever. Do not lie ; 
 Were you both faithful, true distributers? 
 
 Spun. Lie, madam ! what grief is it to 
 see you turn swaggerer, and give your poor- 
 minded rascally servants the lie ! 
 
 Dor. I'm glad you do not ; if those 
 
 wretched people, 
 
 Tell you they pine for want of any thing, 
 Whisper but to mine ear, and you shall 
 
 furnish them. 
 Hir. Whisper ! nay, lady, for my part I'll 
 
 cry whoop. 
 Aug. Play no more, villains, with so good 
 
 a lady ; 
 For, if you do 
 
 Spun. Are we Christians ? 
 
 Hir. The foul fiend snap all pagans for me ! 
 
 Aug. Away, and, once more, mend. 
 
 Spun. 'Takes us for botchers. 
 
 Hir. A patch, a patch ! 
 
 [Exeunt Spun, and Hir. 
 
 Dor. My book and taper. 
 
 Ang. Here, most holy mistress. 
 
 Dor. Thy voice sends forth such music, 
 
 that I never 
 
 Was ravish'd with a more celestial sound. 
 Were every servant in the world like thee, 
 So full of goodness, angelswould come down. 
 To dwell with us : thy name is Angelo, 
 And like that name thou art ; get thee to rest, 
 Thy youth with too much watching isopprest. 
 
 Ang. No, mydearlady, Icouldwearystars, 
 And force the wakeful moon to lose her eyes, 
 By my late watching, but to wait on you. 
 When at your prayers you kneel before the 
 
 altar, 
 Methinks I'm singing with some quire in 
 
 heaven, 
 
 So blest I hold me in your company : 
 Therefore, my most loved mistress, do not bid 
 Your boy, so serviceable, to get hence ; 
 For then you break his heart. 
 
 Dor. Be nigh me still, then : 
 In golden letters down I'll set that day, 
 Which gave thee to me. Little did I'hope 
 To meet such worlds of comfort in thyself, 
 This little, pretty body ; when I, coming 
 Forth of the temple, heard my beggar-boy, 
 My sweet-faced, godly beggar-boy, crave an 
 
 alms, 
 Which with glad hand I gave, with lucky 
 
 hand ! 
 And, when I took thee home, my most chaste 
 
 bosom, 
 
 Methought, was nll'dwith no hot wanton fire, 
 But with a holy flame, mounting since higher, 
 On wings of chenibins, than it did before. 
 
 A ng. Proud am I.that my lady's modest eye 
 So likes so poor a servant. 
 
 Dor. I have offer'd 
 
 Handfuls of gold but to behold thy parents. 
 I would leave kingdoms, were I queen of 
 
 some, 
 
 To dwell with thy good father ; for, the son 
 Bewitching me so deeply with his presence, 
 He that begot him must do't ten times more. 
 I pray thee, my sweet boy, shew me thy 
 
 parents ; 
 Be not ashamed. 
 
 Ang. I am not : I did never 
 Know who my mother was ; but, by yoa 
 
 palace, 
 
 Fill'd with bright heavenly courtiers, I dare 
 assure you, 
 
THE VIRGIN-MARTYR. 
 
 And pawn these eyes upon it, and this hand, 
 My father is in heaven : and, pretty mistress, 
 If your illustrious hourglass spend his sand, 
 No worse than yet it does ; upon my life, 
 You and I both shall meet my father there, 
 And he shall bid you welcome. 
 
 Dor. A blessed day ! 
 
 We all long to be there, but lose the way. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE II. A Street, near Dorothea's 
 House. 
 
 Enter Macrinus, met by Theophilus and 
 Harpax. 
 
 Theoph. The Sun, god of the day, guide 
 
 thee, Macrinus ! 
 Mac. And thee, Theophilus ! 
 Theoph. Glad'st thou in such scorn ? 
 I call my wish back. 
 Mac. I'm in haste. 
 Theoph. One word, 
 
 Take the least hand of time up : stay. 
 Mac. Be brief. 
 Theoph. As thought : I prithee tell me, 
 
 good Macrinus, 
 
 How health and our fair princess lay together 
 This night, for you can tell ; courtiers have 
 
 flies, 
 
 That buzz all news unto them. 
 Mac. She slept but ill. 
 Theoph. Double thy courtesy ; ho\y does 
 
 Antoninus ? 
 Mac. Ill, well, straight, crook'd, I know 
 
 not how. 
 
 Theoph. Once more ; 
 Thy head is full of windmills ! when doth 
 
 the princess 
 
 Fill a bed full of beauty, and bestow it 
 On Antoninus, on the wedding-night? 
 Mac. I know not. 
 
 Theoph. No ! thou art the manuscript, 
 Where Antoninus writes down all his secrets : 
 Honest Macrinus, tell me. 
 
 Mac. Fare you well, sir. \Exit. 
 
 Harp. Honesty is some fiend, and frights 
 
 him hence ; 
 A many courtiers love it not. 
 
 Theoph. What piece 
 
 Of this state-wheel, which winds up Anto- 
 ninus, 
 
 Is broke, it runs so jarringly? the man 
 Is from himself divided : O thou, the eye, 
 By which I wonders see, tell me, my Harpax, 
 What gad-fly tickles this Macrinus so, 
 That, flinging up the tail, he breaks thus 
 
 from me. 
 
 Harp. Oh, sir, his brain-pan is a bed of 
 snakes, 
 
 Whose stings shoot through his eye-balls, 
 
 whose poisonous spawn 
 Ingenders such a fry of speckled villainies, 
 That, unless charms more strong than ada- 
 mant 
 
 Be used, the Roman angel's wings shall melt, 
 And Caesar's diadem be from his head 
 Spurn'd by base feet ; the laurel which he 
 
 wears, 
 
 Returning victor, be enforced to kiss 
 That which it hates, the fire. And can this 
 
 ram, 
 
 This Antoninus-Engine, being made ready 
 To so much mischief, keep a steady mot ion? 
 His eyes and feet, you see, give strange 
 
 assaults. 
 Theoph. I'm turn'd a marble statue at thy 
 
 language, 
 
 Which printed is in such crabb'd characters, 
 It puzzles all my reading : what, in the name 
 Of Pluto, now is hatching ? 
 
 Harp. This Macrinus, 
 The line is, upon which love-errands run 
 'Twixt Antoninus and that ghost of women, 
 The bloodless Dorothea ; who in prayer 
 And meditation, mocking all your gods, 
 Drinks up her ruby colour : yet Antoninus 
 Plays the Endymion to this pale-faced Mcon, 
 Courts, seeks to catch her eyes 
 Theoph. And what of this ? 
 Harp. These are but creeping billows, 
 Not got to shore yet : but if Dorothea 
 Fall on his bosom, and be fired with love, 
 (Your coldest women do so), had you ink 
 Brew'd from the infernal Styx, not all that 
 
 blackness 
 
 Can make a thing so foul, as the dishonours, 
 Disgraces, bufferings, and most base affronts 
 Upon the bright Artemia, star o' the court, 
 Great Caesar's daughter. 
 
 Theoph. I now conster thee. 
 
 Harp. Nay, more ; a firmament of clouds, 
 
 being fill' d 
 
 With Jove's artillery, shot down at once, 
 To pash your gods in pieces, cannot give, 
 With all those thunderbolts, so deep a blow 
 To the religion there, and pagan lore, 
 As this ; for Dorothea hates your gods, 
 And, if she once blast Antoninus' soul, 
 Making it foul like hers, Oh ! the example 
 Theoph. Eats through Cassarea's heart like 
 
 liquid poison. 
 
 Have I invented tortures to tear Christians, 
 To see but which, could all that feel hell's 
 
 torments 
 Have leave to stand aloof here on earth's 
 
 stage, 
 
 They would be mad till they again descended, 
 Holding the pains most horrid of such souls, 
 
THE VIRGIN-MARTYR. 
 
 May-games to those of mine ; has this my 
 
 hand 
 
 Set down a Christian's execution 
 In such dire postures, that the very hangman 
 Fell at my foot dead, hearing but their figures ; 
 And shall Macrinus and his fellow-masquer 
 Strangle me in a dance ? 
 
 Harp. No : on ; I hug thee, 
 For drilling thy quick brains in this rich plot 
 Of tortures 'gainst these Christians : on ; I 
 
 hug thee ! 
 Theoph. Both hug and holy me : to this 
 
 Dorothea, 
 
 Fly thou and I in thunder. 
 Harp. Not for kingdoms 
 Piled upon kingdoms : there's a villain page 
 Waits on her, whom I would not for the world 
 Hold traffic with ; I do so hate his sight, 
 That, should I look on him, I must sink down. 
 Theoph. I will not lose thee then, her to 
 
 confound : 
 ; None but this head with glories shall be 
 
 crown'd. 
 
 Harp. Oh ! mine own as I would wish 
 thee ! \Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE III. A Room in Dorothea's House. 
 Enter Dorothea, Macrinus, and Angelo. 
 Dor. My trusty Angelo, with that curious 
 
 eye 
 
 Of thine, which ever waits upon my business, 
 I prithee watch those my still-negligent 
 
 servants, 
 That they perform my will, in what's enjoin'd 
 
 them 
 To the good of others ; else will you find 
 
 them flies, 
 
 Not lying still, yet in them no good lies : 
 Be careful, dear boy. 
 Ang. Yes, my sweetest mistress. {Exit. 
 Dor. Now, sir, you may go on. 
 Mac. I then must study 
 A new arithmetic, to sum up the virtues 
 Which Antoninus gracefully become. 
 There is in him so much man, so much 
 
 goodness, 
 
 So much of honour, and of all things else, 
 Which make our being excellent, that from 
 
 his store 
 He can enough lend others ; yet, much ta'en 
 
 from him, 
 
 The want shall be as little, as when seas 
 Lend from their bounty, to fill up the poorness 
 Of needy rivers. 
 
 Dor. Sir, he is more indebted 
 To you for praise, .than you to him that 
 
 owes it. 
 
 Mac. If queens, viewing his presents paid 
 to the whiteness 
 
 Of your chaste hand alone, should be am- 
 bitious 
 
 But to be parted in their numerous shares ; 
 This he counts nothing : could you sec main 
 
 armies , 
 
 Make battles in the quarrel of his valour, 
 That 'tis the best, the truest ; this were 
 
 nothing : 
 
 The greatness of his state, his father's voice, j 
 And arm, awing Caesarea, he ne'er boasts of; ' 
 The sunbeams which the emperor throws 
 
 upon him, 
 
 Shine there but as in water, and gild him 
 Not with one spot of pride : no, dearest 
 
 beauty, 
 
 All these, heap'd up together in one scale, 
 Cannot weigh down the love he bears to you, 
 Being put into the other. 
 
 Dor. Could gold buy you 
 To speak thus for a friend, you, sir, are 
 
 worthy 
 Of more than I will number ; and this your ' 
 
 language 
 
 Hath power to win upon another woman, 
 'Top of whose heart the feathers of this 
 
 world 
 Are gaily stuck : but all which first you 
 
 named, 
 
 And now this last, his love, to me are nothing. 
 Mac. You make me a sad messenger ; 
 but himself 
 
 Enter Antoninus. 
 
 Being come in person, shall, I hope, hear 
 
 from you 
 Music more pleasing. 
 
 Anton. Has your ear, Macrinus, 
 Heard none, then ? 
 
 Mac. None I like, 
 
 Anton. But can there be 
 In such a noble casket, wherein lie 
 Beauty and chastity in their full perfections, j 
 A rocky heart, killing with cruelty 
 A life that's prostrated beneath your feet ? 
 
 Dor. I am guilty of a shame I yet ne'er 
 
 knew, 
 
 Thus to hold parley with you ; pray, sir, 
 pardon. [Going. 
 
 Anton. Good sweetness, you now have it, 
 
 and shall go : 
 
 Be but so merciful, before your wounding me 
 With such a mortal weapon as Farewell, 
 To let me murmur to your virgin ear, 
 What I was loth to lay on any tongue 
 But this mine own. 
 
 Dor. If one immodest accent 
 Fly out, I hate you everlastingly. 
 
 Anton. My true love dares not do it. 
 
 Mac. Hermes inspire thee ! 
 
THE VIRGIN-MARTYR. 
 
 Enter above, Artemia, Sapritius, Theophilus, 
 Spungius, and Hircius. 
 
 Spun. So, now, do you see? Our work 
 is done ; the fish you angle for is nibbling 
 at the hook, and therefore untruss the cod- 
 piece-point of our reward, no matter if the 
 breeches of conscience fall about our heels. 
 
 Theoph. The gold you earn is here ; dam 
 
 up your mouths, 
 And no words of it. 
 
 Hir. No ; nor no words from you of too 
 much damning neither. I know women 
 sell themselves daily, and are hacknied out 
 for silver : why may not we, then, betray a 
 scurvy mistress for gold ? 
 
 Spun. She saved us from the gallows, and, 
 only to keep one proverb from breaking his 
 neck, we'll hang her. 
 
 Theoph. 'Tis well done ; go, go, you're 
 my fine white boys. 
 
 Spun. If your red boys, 'tis well known 
 more ill-favoured faces than ours are painted. 
 
 Sap. Those fellows trouble us. 
 
 Theoph. Away, away ! 
 
 Hir. I to my sweet placket. 
 
 Spun. And I to my full pot. 
 
 [Exeunt Hir. and Spun. 
 
 Anton. Come, let me tune you : glaze 
 
 not thus your eyes 
 With self-love of a vow'd virginity, 
 Make every man your glass ; you see our sex 
 Do never murder propagation ; 
 We all desire your sweet society, 
 But if you bar me from it, you do kill me, 
 And of my blood are guilty. 
 
 Artem. O base villain ! 
 
 Sap. Bridle your rage, sweet princess. 
 
 Anton. Could not my fortunes, 
 Rear'd higher far than yours, be worthy of 
 
 you, 
 Methinks my dear affection makes you mine. 
 
 Dor. Sir, for your fortunes, were they 
 
 mines of gold, 
 
 He that I love is richer ; and for worth, 
 You are to him lower than any slave, 
 Is to a monarch. 
 
 Sap. So insolent, base Christian ! 
 
 Dor. Can I, with wearing out my knees 
 
 before him, 
 
 Get you but be his servant, you shall boast 
 You're equal to a king. 
 
 Sap. Confusion on thee, 
 For playing thus the lying sorceress ! 
 
 Anton. Your mocks are great ones ; none 
 
 beneath the sun 
 
 Will I be servant to. On my knees I beg it, 
 Pity me, wondrous maid. 
 
 Sap. I curse thy baseness. 
 
 Theoph. Listen to more. 
 Dor. O kneel not, sir, to me. 
 Anton. This knee is emblem of an hum- 
 bled heart : 
 
 That heart which tortured is with your dis- 
 dain, 
 
 Justly for scorning others, even this heart, 
 To which for pity such a princess sues, 
 As in her hand offers me all the world, 
 Great Caesar's daughter. 
 Artem. Slave, thou liest. 
 Anton. Yet this 
 
 Is adamant to her, that melts to you 
 In drops of blood. 
 Theoph. A very dog ! 
 Anton. Perhaps 
 
 'Tis my religion makes you knit the brow ; \ 
 Yet be you mine, and ever be your own : 
 I ne'er will screw your conscience from that 
 
 Power, 
 On which you Christians lean. 
 
 Sap. I can no longer 
 
 Fret out my life with weeping at thee, villain. 
 Sirrah ! [Aloud. 
 
 Would, when I got thee, the highT Thun- 
 derer's hand 
 
 Had struck thee in the womb ! 
 Mac. We are betray 'd. 
 Artem. Is that the idol, traitor, which 
 
 thou kneel'st to, 
 Trampling upon my beauty ! 
 
 Theoph. Sirrah, bandog ! 
 Wilt thou in pieces tear our Jupiter 
 For her? our Mars for her? our Sol for her? 
 A whore ! a hell-hound ! In this globe of 
 
 brains, 
 Where a whole world of furies for such 
 
 tortures 
 Have fought, as in a chaos, which should 
 
 exceed, 
 These nails shall grubbing hie from skull to 
 
 skull, 
 
 To find one horrider than all, for you, 
 You three ! 
 
 Artem. Threaten not, but strike : quick 
 
 vengeance flies 
 
 Into my bosom ; caitiff ! here all love dies. 
 
 {Exeunt above. 
 
 Anton. O ! I am thunderstruck ! We are 
 
 both o'erwhelm'd 
 
 Mac. With one high-raging billow. 
 Dor. You a soldier, 
 
 And sink beneath the violence of a woman ! 
 Anton. A woman ! a wrong'd princess. 
 
 From such a star, 
 Blazing with fires of hate, what can be 
 
 looked for, 
 
 But tragical events ? my life is now 
 The subject of her tyranny. 
 
THE VIRGIN-MARTYR. 
 
 Dor. 
 Of death, when 
 
 displace 
 Out of her house of earth 
 
 That fear is base, 
 that death doth but life 
 
 you only dread 
 
 The stroke, and not what follows when you're 
 
 dead ; 
 There's the great fear, indeed : come, let 
 
 your eyes 
 Dwell where mine do, you'll scorn their 
 
 tyrannies. 
 
 Re-enter below, Artemia, Sapritius, Theo- 
 philus, a guard ; Angelo comes and 
 stands close by Dorothea. 
 
 Artem. My father's nerves put vigour in 
 
 mine arm, 
 
 And I his strength must use. Because I once 
 Shed beams of favour on thee* and, with the 
 
 lion, 
 Play'd with thee gently, when thou struck' st 
 
 my heart, 
 
 I'll not insult on a base, humbled prey, 
 By lingering out thy terrors ; but, with one 
 
 frown, 
 
 Kill thee : hence with them all to execution. 
 Seize him ; but let even death itself be weary 
 In torturing her. I'll change those smiles 
 
 to shrieks ; 
 
 Give the fool what she's proud of, martyrdom : 
 In pieces rack that bawd too. 
 
 [Points to Macr. 
 Sap. Albeit the reverence 
 I owe our gods and you, are, in my bosom, 
 Torrents so strong, that pity quite lies 
 
 drown 'd 
 
 From saving this young man ; yet, when I see 
 What face death gives him, and that a 
 
 thing within me 
 
 Says, 'tis my son, I am forced to be a man, 
 And grow fond of his life, which thus I beg. 
 Artem. And I deny. 
 Anton. Sir, you dishonour me, 
 To sue for that which I disclaim to have. 
 I shall more glory in my sufferings gain, 
 Than you in giving judgment, since I offer 
 My blood up to your anger ; nor do I kneel 
 To keep a wretched life of mine from ruin : 
 Preserve this temple, builded fair as yours is, 
 And Caesar never went in greater triumph, 
 Than I shall to the scaffold. 
 
 Artem. Are you so brave, sir? 
 Set forward to his triumph, and let those two 
 Go cursing along with him. 
 
 Dor. No, but pitying, 
 
 For my part, I, that you lose ten times more 
 By torturing me, than I that dare your 
 
 tortures : 
 
 Through all the army of my sins, I have even j pockets. 
 
 Labour 'd to break, and cope with death to 
 
 th' face. 
 
 The visage of a hangman frights not rne ; 
 The sight of whips, racks, gibbets, axes, fires, 
 Are scaffoldings by which my soul climbs up 
 To an eternal habitation. 
 
 Theoph. Caesar's imperial daughter, hear 
 
 me speak. 
 Let not this Christian thing, in this her 
 
 pageantry 
 
 Of proud deriding both our gods and Ccesar, 
 Build to herself a kingdom in her death, 
 Going laughing from us : no ; her bitterest 
 
 torment 
 
 Shall be, to feel her constancy beaten down ; 
 The bravery of her resolution lie 
 Batter'd, by argument, into such pieces, 
 That she again shall, on her belly, creep 
 To kiss the pavements of our paynim gods. 
 Artem. How to be done ? 
 Theoph. I'll send my daughters to her, 
 And they shall turn her rocky faith to wax ; 
 Else spit at me, let me be made your slave, 
 And meet no Roman's but a villain's grave. 
 Artem. Thy prisoner let her be, then ; 
 
 and, Sapritius, 
 Your son and that, be yours : death shall be 
 
 sent 
 
 To him that suffers them, by voice or letters, 
 To greet each other. Rifle her estate ; 
 Christians to beggary brought, grow des- 
 perate. 
 
 Dor. Still on the bread of poverty let me feed . 
 Ang. O ! my admired mistress, quench 
 
 not out 
 
 The holy fires within you, though temptations 
 Shower down upon you ? Clasp thine armour 
 
 on, 
 
 Fight well, and thou shalt see, after these wars, 
 Thy head wear sunbeams, and thy feet 
 
 touch stars. {Exeunt all but Angelo. 
 
 Enter Hircius and Spungius. 
 
 Hir. How now, Angelo ; how is it, how 
 
 is it? 
 
 What thread spins that whore Fortune upon 
 her wheel now ? 
 
 Spun. Com esta, com esta, poor knave ? 
 
 Hir. Comment portez-vous, comment 
 portez-vous, mon petit garcon ? 
 
 Spun. My pretty wee comrade, my half- 
 inch of man's flesh, how run the dice of this 
 cheating world, ha ? 
 
 A ng. Too well on your sides ; you are hid 
 
 in gold, 
 O'er head and ears. 
 
 Hir. We thank our fates, the sign of the 
 gingle-boys hangs at the doors of our 
 
THE VIRGIN-MARTYR. 
 
 Spun. Who would think that we, coming 
 forth of the a , as it were, or fag-end of 
 the world, should yet see the golden age, 
 when so little silver is stirring ? 
 
 Hir. Nay, who can say any citizen is an 
 ass, for loading his own back with money 
 till his soul cracks again, only to leave his 
 son like a gilded coxcomb behind him ? Will 
 not any fool take me for a wise man now, 
 seeing me draw out of the pit of my treasury 
 this little god with his belly full of gold? 
 
 Spun. And this, full of the same meat, 
 out of my ambry? 
 
 Ang. That gold will melt to poison. 
 
 Spun. Poison ! would it would ! whole 
 pints for healths should down my throat. 
 
 Hir. Gold, poison ! there is never a she- 
 thrasher in Cassarea, that lives on the flail 
 of money, will call it so. 
 
 Ang. Like slaves you sold your souls for 
 
 golden dross, 
 
 Bewraying her to death, who stept between 
 You and the gallows. 
 
 Spun. It was an easy matter to save us, 
 she being so well back'd. 
 
 Hir. The gallows and we fell out : so 
 she did but part us. 
 
 Ang. The misery of that mistress is mine 
 
 own ; 
 She beggar'd, I left wretched. 
 
 Hir. I can but let my nose drop in 
 sorrow, with wet eyes for her. 
 
 Spun. The petticoat of her estate is 
 unlaced, I confess. 
 
 Hir. Yes, and the smock of her charity 
 is now all to pieces. 
 
 Ang. For love you bear to her, for some 
 
 good turns 
 Done you by me, give me one piece of silver. 
 
 Hir. How ! a piece of silver ! if thou 
 wert an angel of gold, I would not put thee 
 into white money, unless I weighed thee ; 
 and I weigh thee not a rush. 
 
 Spun. A piece of silver ! I never had but 
 two calves in my life, and those my mother 
 left me ; I will rather part from the fat of 
 them, than from a mustard-token's worth 
 of argent. 
 
 Hir. And so, sweet nit, we crawl from thee. 
 
 Spun. Adieu, demi-dandiprat, adieu ! 
 
 Ang. Stay, one word yet ; you now are 
 full of gold. 
 
 Hir. I would be sorry my dog were so 
 full of the pox. 
 
 Spun. Or any sow of mine of the meazles 
 either. 
 
 Ang. Go, go ! you're beggars both ; you 
 
 are not worth 
 j That leather on your feet. 
 
 Hir. Away, away, boy ! 
 
 Spun. Page, you do nothing but set 
 patches on the soles of your jests. 
 
 Ang. I am glad I tried your love, which, 
 
 see ! I want not, 
 So long as this is full. 
 
 Both. And so long as this, so long as this. 
 
 Hir. Spungius, you are a pickpocket. 
 
 Spun. Hircius, thou hast nimm'd : So- 
 long as ! not so much money is left as will 
 buy a louse. 
 
 Hir. Thou art a thief, and thou liest in 
 that gut through which thy wine runs, if 
 thou deniest it. 
 
 Spun. Thou liest deeper than the bottom 
 of mine enraged pocket, if thou affrontest it. 
 
 Ang. No blows, no bitter language ; 
 all your gold gone ! 
 
 Spun. Can the devil creep into one's 
 breeches ? 
 
 Hir. Yes, if his horns once get into the 
 codpiece. 
 
 Ang. Come, sigh not ; I so little am in lov& 
 With that whose loss kills you, that, see ! 
 
 'tis yours, 
 
 All yours : divide the heap in equal share, 
 So you will go along with me to prison, 
 And in our mistress' sorrows bear a part : 
 Say, will you? 
 
 Both. Will we! 
 
 Spun. If she were going to hanging, no 
 gallows should part us. 
 
 Hir. Let us both be turned into a rope 
 of onions, if we do not. 
 
 Ang. Follow me, then ; repair your bad 
 
 deeds past ; 
 
 Happy are men, when their best days are 
 last! 
 
 Spun. True, master Angelo ; pray, sir, 
 lead the way. [Exit Angelo. 
 
 Hir. Let him lead that way, but follow 
 thou me this way. 
 
 Spun. I live in a gaol ! 
 
 Hir. Away, and shift for ourselves : 
 She'll do we'll enough there ; for prisoners 
 are more hungry after mutton, than catch- 
 poles after prisoners. 
 
 Spun. Let her starve then, if a whole gaol 
 will not fill her belly. [Exeunt. 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 SCENE I. A Room in Dorothea's House. 
 
 Enter Sapritius, Theophilus, Priest, Calista, 
 and Christeta. 
 
 Sap. Sick to the death, I fear. 
 
 Theoph. I meet your sorrow, 
 With my true feeling of it. 
 
THE VIRGIN-MARTYR. 
 
 Sap. She's a witch, 
 A sorceress, Theophilus ; my son 
 Is charm'dby her enchanting eyes ; and, like 
 An image made of wax, her beams of beauty 
 Melt him to nothing : all my hopes in him, 
 And all his gotten honours, find their grave 
 In his strange dotage on her. Would, when 
 
 first 
 He saw and loved her, that the earth had 
 
 open'd, 
 
 And swallow" d both alive ! 
 Thcoph. There's hope left yet. 
 Sap. Not any : though the princess were 
 
 appeased, 
 
 All title in her love surrender'd up ; 
 Yet this coy Christian is so transported 
 With her religion, that unless my son 
 (But let him perish first !) drink the same 
 
 potion, 
 
 And be of her belief, she'll not vouchsafe 
 To be his lawful wife. 
 
 Priest. But, once removed 
 From her opinion, as I rest assured 
 The reasons of these holy maids will win her, 
 You'll find her tractable to anything, 
 For our content or his. 
 
 Theoph. If she refuse it, 
 The Stygian damps, breeding infectious airs, 
 The mandrake's shrieks, the basilisk's killing 
 
 eye, 
 The dreadful lightning that does crush the 
 
 bones, 
 
 And never singe the skin, shall not appear 
 Less fatal to her, than my zeal made hot 
 With love unto my gods. I have deferr'd it, 
 In hopes to draw back this apostata, 
 Which will be greater honour than her 
 
 death, 
 
 Unto her father's faith ; and, to that end, 
 Have brought my daughters hither. 
 
 Cat. And we doubt not 
 To do what you desire. 
 
 Sap. Let her be sent for. 
 Prosper in your good work ; and were I not 
 To attend the princess, I would see and hear 
 How you succeed. 
 
 Thcoph. I am commanded too, 
 I'll bear you company. 
 
 Sap. Give them your ring, 
 To lead her as in triumph, if they win her, 
 Before her highness. [Exit. 
 
 Theoph. Spare no promises, 
 Persuasions, or threats, I do conjure you : 
 If you prevail, 'tis the most glorious work 
 You ever undertook. 
 
 Enter Dorothea and Angela. 
 
 Priest. She comes. 
 Theoph. We leave you ; 
 
 Be constant, and be careful. 
 
 [Exeunt Theoph. and Priest. 
 Cal. We are sorry 
 To meet you under guard. 
 Dor. But I more grieved 
 You are at liberty. So well I love you, 
 That I could wish, for such a cause as mine,. 
 You were my fellow-prisoners : Prithee, 
 Angelo, 
 
 Reach us some chairs. Please you sit 
 
 Cal. We thank you : 
 Our visit is for love, love to your safety. 
 Christ. Our conference must be private,. 
 
 pray you, therefore, 
 Command your boy to leave us. 
 
 Dor. You may trust him 
 With any secret that concerns my life, 
 Falsehood and he are strangers : had you,. 
 
 ladies, 
 Been bless'd with such a servant, you had 
 
 never 
 Forsook that way, your journey even half 
 
 ended, 
 
 That leads to joys eternal. In the place 
 Of loose lascivious mirth, he would have 
 
 stirr'd you 
 
 To holy meditations ; and so far 
 He is from flattery, that he would have told 
 
 you, 
 
 Your pride being at the height, how miserable 
 And wretched things you were, that, for an 
 
 hour 
 
 Of pleasure here, have made a desperate sale 
 Of all your right in happiness hereafter. 
 He must not leave me ; without him I fall : 
 In this life he's my servant, in the other 
 A wish'd companion. 
 
 Ang. 'Tis not in the devil, 
 Nor all his wicked arts, to shake such 
 
 goodness. 
 
 Dor. But you were speaking, lady. 
 Cal. As a friend 
 
 And lover of your safety, and I pray you 
 So to receive it ; and, if you remember . 
 How near in love our parents were, that we, 
 Even from the cradle, were brought up 
 
 together, 
 
 Our amity increasing with our years, 
 We cannot stand suspected. 
 Dor. To the purpose. 
 Cal. We come, then, as good angels, 
 
 Dorothea, 
 
 To make you happy ; and the means so easy. 
 That, be not you an enemy to yourself, 
 Already you enjoy it. 
 
 Christ. Look on us, 
 
 Ruin'd as you are, once, and brought unto it, 
 By your persuasion. 
 
 Cal. But what follow'd, lady ? 
 
i6 
 
 THE VIRGIN-MARTYR. 
 
 Leaving those blessings which our gods gave 
 
 freely, 
 
 And shower 'd upon us with a prodigal hand, 
 As to be noble born, youth, beauty, wealth, 
 And the free use of these without control, 
 Check, curb, or stop, such is our law's inv 
 
 dulgence ! 
 
 All happiness forsook us ; bonds and fetters, 
 For amorous twines ; the rack and hang- 
 man's whips, 
 In place of choice delights ; our parents' 
 
 curses 
 
 Instead of blessings; scorn, neglect, contempt, 
 Fell thick upon us. 
 
 Christ. This consider'd wisely, 
 We made a fair retreat ; and reconciled 
 To our forsaken gods, we live again 
 In all prosperity. 
 
 Cal. By our example, 
 Bequeathing misery to such as love it, 
 Learn to be happy. The Christian yoke's 
 
 too heavy 
 
 For such a dainty neck ; it was framed rather 
 To be the shrine of Venus, or a pillar, 
 More precious than crystal, to support 
 Our Cupid's image : our religion, lady, 
 Is but a varied pleasure ; yours a toil 
 Slaves would shrink under. 
 
 Dor. Have you not cloven feet ? are you 
 
 not devils ? 
 
 Dare any say so much, or dare I hear it 
 Without a virtuous and religious anger ? 
 Now to put on a virgin modesty, 
 Or maiden silence, when His power is 
 
 question'd 
 
 That is omnipotent, were a greater crime, 
 Than in a bad cause to be impudent. 
 Your gods ! your temples ! brothel houses 
 
 rather, 
 
 Or wicked actions of the worst of men, 
 Pursued and practised. Your religious rites ! 
 Oh ! call them rather juggling mysteries, 
 The baits and nets of hell : your souls the prey 
 For which the devil angles ; your false plea- 
 sures 
 
 A steep descent, by which you headlong fall 
 Into eternal torments. 
 Cal. Do not tempt 
 Our powerful gods. 
 
 Dor. Which of your powerful gods ? 
 Your gold, your silver, brass, or wooden ones, 
 That can nor do me hurt, nor protect you ? 
 Most pitied women ! will you sacrifice 
 To such, or call them gods or goddesses, 
 Your parents would disdain to be the same, 
 Or you yourselves ? O blinded ignorance ! 
 Tell me, Calista, by the truth, I charge you, 
 Or anything you hold more dear, would you, 
 To have him" deified to posterity, 
 
 Desire your father an adulterer, 
 A ravisher, almost a parricide, 
 A vile incestuous wretch ? 
 
 Cal. That, piety 
 And duty answer for me. 
 
 Dor. Or you, Christeta, 
 To be hereafter register'd a goddess, 
 Give your chaste body up to the embraces 
 Of goatish lust? have it writ on your forehead, 
 ' ' This is the common whore, the prostitute, 
 The mistress in the art of wantonness, 
 Knows every trick and labyrinth of desires 
 That are immodest?" 
 
 Christ. You judge better of me, 
 Or my affection is ill placed on you ; 
 Shall I turn strumpet ? 
 
 Dor. No, I think you would not. 
 Yet Venus, whom you worship, was a whore ; 
 Flora, the foundress of the public stews, 
 And has, for that, her sacrifice ; your great 
 
 god, 
 
 Your Jupiter, a loose adulterer, 
 Incestuous with his sister : read but those 
 That have canonized them, you'll find them 
 
 worse 
 Than, in chaste language, I can speak them 
 
 to you. 
 
 Are they immortal then, that did partake 
 Of hum'an weakness, and had ample share 
 In men's most base affections ; subject to 
 Unchaste loves, anger, bondage, wounds, 
 
 as men are? 
 
 Here, Jupiter, to serve his lust, turn'd bull, 
 The shape, indeed, in which he stole Europa ; 
 Neptune, for gain, builds up the walls of 
 
 Troy, 
 
 As a day-labourer ; Apollo keeps 
 Admetus 1 sheep for Bread ; the Lemnian 
 
 smith 
 Sweats at the forge for hire ; Prometheus 
 
 here, 
 
 With his still-growing liver, feeds the vulture ; 
 Saturn bound fast in hell with adamant 
 
 chains ; 
 
 And thousands more, on whom abused error 
 Bestows a deity. Will you then, dear sisters, 
 For I would have you such, pay your devo- 
 tions 
 To things of less power than yourselves ? 
 
 Cal. We worship 
 Their good deeds in their images. 
 
 Dor. By whom fashion'd ? 
 By sinful men. I'll tell you a short tale, 
 Nor can you but confess it is a true one : 
 A king of Egypt, being to erect 
 The image of Osiris, whom they honour, 
 Took from the matrons' necks the richest 
 
 jewels, 
 And purest crold, as the materials, 
 
THE VIRGIN-MARTYR. 
 
 To finish up his work ; which perfected, 
 
 With all solemnity he set it up, 
 
 To be adored, and served himself his idol ; 
 
 Desiring it to give him victory 
 
 Against his enemies : but, being overthrown, 
 
 Enraged against his god, (these are fine gods, 
 
 Subject to human fury !) he took down 
 
 The senseless thing, and melting it again, 
 
 He made a basin, in which eunuchs wash'd 
 
 His concubine's feet ; and for this sordid use, 
 
 Some months it served : his mistress proving 
 
 false, 
 
 As most indeed do so, and grace concluded 
 Between him and the priests, of the same 
 
 bason 
 He made his god again ! Think, think, of 
 
 this, 
 
 And then consider, if all worldly honours, 
 Or pleasures that do leave sharp stings be- 
 hind them, 
 Have power to win such as have reasonable 
 
 souls, 
 To put their trust in dross. 
 
 Cat. Oh, that I had been born 
 Without a father ! 
 
 Clirist. Piety to him 
 Hath ruin'd us for ever. 
 
 Dor. Think not so ; 
 You may repair all yet : the attribute 
 That speaks his Godhead most, is merciful : 
 Revenge is proper to the fiends you worship, 
 Yet cannot strike without his leave. You 
 
 weep, 
 
 Oh, 'tis a heavenly shower ! celestial balm 
 To cure your wounded conscience ! let it fall, 
 Fall thick upon it ; and, when that is spent, 
 I'll help it with another of my tears : 
 And may your true repentance prove the child 
 Of my true sorrow, never mother had 
 A birth so happy ! 
 
 Cal. We are caught ourselves, 
 That came to take you ; and, assured of 
 
 conquest, 
 We are your captives. 
 
 Dor. And in that you triumph : 
 Your victory had been eternal loss, 
 And this your loss immortal gain. Fix here, 
 And you shall feel yourselves inwardly arm 'd 
 'Gainst tortures, death, and hell : but, take 
 
 heed, sisters, 
 That, or through weakness, threats, or mild 
 
 persuasions, 
 
 Though of a father, you fall not into 
 A second and a worse apostacy. 
 
 Cal. Never, oh never ! steel'd by your 
 
 example, 
 
 We dare the worst of tyranny. 
 
 Christ. Here's our warrant, 
 
 You shall along and witness it. 
 
 Dor. Be confirm'd then ; 
 And rest assured, the more you suffer here, 
 The more your glory, you to heaven more 
 dear. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE II. The Governor's Palace. 
 
 Enter Artemia, Sapritius, Theophilus, and 
 
 Harpax. 
 
 Artem. Sapritius, though your son deserve 
 
 no pity, 
 
 We grieve his sickness : his contempt of us, 
 We cast behind us, and look back upon 
 His service done to Cassar, that weighs down 
 Our just displeasure. If his malady 
 Have growth from his restraint, or that you 
 
 think 
 
 His liberty can cure him, let him have it : 
 Say, we forgive him freely. 
 
 Sap. Your grace binds' us, 
 Ever your humblest vassals. 
 
 Artem. Use all means, 
 For his recovery ; though yet I love him, 
 I will not force affection. If the Christian, 
 Whose beauty hath out-rivall'd me, be won 
 To be of our belief, let him enjoy her ; 
 That all may know, when the cause wills, 
 
 I can 
 Command my own desires. 
 
 Theoph. Be happy then, 
 My lord Sapritius : I am confident, 
 Such eloquence and sweet persuasion dwell 
 Upon my daughters' tongues, that they 
 
 will work her 
 To anything they please. 
 
 Sap. I wish they may ! 
 Yet 'tis no easy task to undertake, 
 To alter a perverse and obstinate woman. 
 
 [A shout within : lond music. 
 
 Artem. What means this shout ? 
 
 Sap. 'Tis seconded with music, 
 Triumphant music. Ha ! 
 
 Enter Sempronius. 
 
 Semp. My lord, your daughters, 
 The pillars of our faith, having converted, 
 For so report gives out, the Christian lady, 
 The image of great Jupiter borne before them, 
 Sue for access. 
 
 Theoph. My soul divined as much. 
 Blest be the time when first they saw this light ! 
 Their mother, when she bore them to support 
 My feeble age, filled not my longing heart 
 With so much joy, as they in this good work, 
 Have thrown upon me. 
 Enter Priest with the Image of Jupiter, in- 
 cense and censers ; followed by Calista and 
 
 Christeta, leading Dorothea. 
 Welcome, oh, thrice welcome, 
 Daughters, both of my body and my mind ! 
 
i3 
 
 THE VIRGIN-MARTYR. 
 
 i Let me embrace in you my bliss, my comfort ; 
 And Dorothea, now more welcome too, 
 Then if you never had fallen off! I amravish'd 
 With the excess of joy: speak, happy 
 
 daughters, 
 The blest event. 
 
 Cal. We never gain'd so much 
 By any undertaking. 
 
 Theoph. O my dear girl, 
 Our gods reward thee ! 
 
 Dor. Nor was ever time, 
 On my part, better spent. 
 
 Christ. We are all now 
 Of one opinion. 
 
 Theoph. My best Christeta ! 
 Madam, if ever you did grace to worth, 
 Vouchsafe your princely hands. 
 
 Artem. Most willingly 
 
 Do you refuse it ? 
 
 Cal. Let us first deserve it. 
 
 Theoph. My own child still ! here set our 
 
 god ; prepare 
 
 The incense quickly : Come, fair Dorothea, 
 I will myself support you ; now kneel down, 
 And pay your vows to Jupiter. 
 
 Dor. I shall do it 
 Better by their example. 
 
 Theoph. They shall guide you, 
 They are familiar with the sacrifice. 
 Forward, my twins of comfort, and, to teach 
 
 her, 
 Make a joint offering. 
 
 Christ. Thus [they both spit at the image, 
 
 Cal. And thus [throw it down, and 
 spurn it. 
 
 Harp. Profane, 
 
 And impious ! stand you now like a statue ? 
 Are you the champion of the gods ? where is 
 Your holy zeal, your anger? 
 
 Theoph. I am blasted ; 
 And, as my feet were rooted here, I find 
 I have no motion ; I would I had no sight 
 
 too! 
 
 Or if my eyes can serve to any use, 
 'Give me, thou injured Power ! a sea of tears, 
 To expiate this madness in my daughters ; 
 For, being themselves, they would have 
 trembled at 
 
 "So blasphemous a deed in any other : 
 
 For my sake, hold awhile thy dreadful 
 
 thunder, 
 
 And give me patience to demand a reason 
 For this accursed act. 
 
 Dor. 'Twas bravely done. 
 
 Theoph. Peace, damn'd enchantress, 
 
 peace ! I should look on you 
 With eyes made red with fury, and my hand, 
 That shakes with rage, should much outstrip 
 my tongue, 
 
 And seal my vengeance on your hearts ; 
 
 but nature, 
 
 To you that have fallen once, bids me again 
 To be a father. Oh ! how durst you tempt 
 The anger of great Jove ? 
 
 Dor. Alack, poof Jove ! 
 He is no swaggerer ; how smug he stands ! 
 He'll take a kick, or anything. 
 
 Sap. Stop her mouth. 
 
 Dor. It is the patient'st godling ! do not 
 
 fear him ; 
 
 He would not hurt the thief that stole away 
 Two of his golden locks ; indeed he could not : 
 And still 'tis the same quiet thing. 
 
 Theoph. Blasphemer ! 
 Ingenious cruelty shall punish this : 
 Thou art past hope : but for you yet, dear 
 
 daughters, 
 
 Again bewitch 'd, the dew of mild forgiveness 
 May gently fall, provided you deserve it, 
 With true contrition : be yourselves again ; 
 Sue to the offended deity. 
 
 Christ. Not to be 
 The mistress of the earth. 
 
 Cal. I will not offer 
 
 A grain of incense to it, much less kneel, 
 Nor look on it but with contempt and scorn, 
 To have a thousand years conferr'd upon me 
 Of worldly blessings. We profess ourselves 
 To be, like Dorothea, Christians ; 
 And owe her for that happiness. 
 
 Theoph. My ears 
 
 Receive, in hearing this, all deadly charms, 
 Powerful to make man wretched. 
 
 Artem. Are these they 
 You bragg'd could convert others ! 
 
 Sap. That want strength 
 To stand, themselves ! 
 
 Harp. Your honour is engaged, 
 The credit of your cause depends upon it ; 
 Something you must do suddenly. 
 
 Theoph. And I will. 
 
 Harp. They merit death ; but, falling by 
 
 your hand, 
 
 'Twill be recorded for a just revenge, 
 And holy fury in you. 
 
 Theoph. Do not blow 
 The furnace of a wrath thrice hot already ; 
 ^Etna is in my breast, wildfire burns here, 
 Which only blood must quench. Incensed 
 
 Power ! 
 
 Which from my infancy I have adored, 
 Look down with favourable beams upon 
 The sacrifice, though not allow'd thy priest, 
 Which I will offer to thee ; and be pleased, 
 My fiery zeal inciting me to act, 
 To call that justice others may style murder. 
 Come, you accurs'd, thus by the hair I drag 
 you 
 
THE VIRGIN-MARTYR. 
 
 Before this holy altar ; thus look on you, 
 Less pitiful than tigers to their prey : 
 And thus, with mine own hand, I take that life 
 Which I gave to you. {Kills them. 
 
 Dor. O, most cruel butcher ! 
 Theoph. My anger ends not here : hell's 
 
 dreadful porter, 
 
 Receive into thy ever-open gates, 
 Their damned souls, and let the Furies' whips 
 On them alone be wasted ; and, when death 
 Closes these eyes, 'twill be Elysium to me 
 To hear their shrieks and bowlings. Make 
 
 me, Pluto, 
 
 Thy instrument to furnish thee with souls 
 Of that accursed sect ; nor let me fall, 
 Till my fell vengeance hath consumed them 
 
 all. [Exit with Harpax. 
 
 Artem. Tis a brave zeal. 
 
 Enter Angelo, smiling. 
 
 Dor. Oh, call him back again, 
 Call back your hangman ! here's one pri- 
 soner left 
 To be the subject of his knife. 
 
 Artem. Not so ; 
 
 We are not so near reconciled unto thee ; 
 Thou shalt not perish such an easy way. 
 Be she your charge, Sapritius, now ; and 
 Suffer none to come near her, till we have 
 Found out some torments worthy of her. 
 
 Ang. Courage, mistress ; 
 These martyrs but prepare your glorious fate; 
 You shall exceed them, and not imitate. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE \\l.ARoom in Dorothea's House. 
 
 Enter Spungius and Hircius, ragged, at 
 opposite doors* 
 
 Hir. Spungius ! 
 
 Spun. My fine rogue, how is it? how 
 goes this tattered world? 
 
 Hir. Hast any money? 
 
 Spun. Money ! no. The tavern ivy clings 
 about my money, and kills it. Hast thou 
 any money ? 
 
 Hir. No. My money is a mad bull ; and 
 finding any gap opened, away it runs. 
 
 Spun. I see then a tavern and a bawdy- 
 house have faces much alike ; the one hath 
 red grates next the door, the other hath 
 peeping-holes within doors : the tavern hath 
 evermore a bush, the bawdyhouse sometimes 
 neither hedge nor bush. From a tavern a 
 man comes reeling ; from a bawdyhouse not 
 able to stand. In the tavern you are cozen'd 
 with paltry wine ; in a bawdyhouse by a 
 painted whore : money may have wine, and 
 a whore will have money ; but to neither can 
 
 you cry, Drawer, you rogue ! or, Keep door, 
 
 rotten bawd ! without a silver whistle : We 
 
 are justly plagued, therefore, for running 
 from our mistress. 
 
 Hir. Thou didst ; I did not : Yet I had 
 run too, but that one gave me turpentine 
 pills, and that staid my running. 
 
 Spun. Well ! the thread of my life is 
 drawn through the needle of necessity, 
 whose eye, looking upon my lousy breeches, 
 cries out it cannot mend them ; which so 
 pricks the linings of my body, (and those 
 are heart, lights, lungs, guts, and midriff,) 
 that I beg on my knees, to have Atropos, 
 the tailor to the Destinies, to take her shears, 
 and cut my thread in two ; or to heat the 
 iron goose of mortality, and so press me to 
 death. 
 
 Hir. Sure thy father was some botcher, 
 and thy hungry tongue bit off these shreds 
 of complaints, to patch up the elbows of 
 thy nitty eloquence. 
 
 Spun. And what was thy father? 
 
 Hir. A low-minded cobler, a cobler 
 whose zeal set many a woman upright ; the 
 remembrance of whose awl (I now having 
 nothing) thrusts such scurvy stitches into my 
 soul, that the heel of my happiness is gone 
 awry. 
 
 ' Spun. Pity that e'er thou trod'st thy shoe 
 awry. 
 
 Hir. Long I cannot last ; for all sowterly 
 wax of comfort melting away, and misery 
 taking the length of my foot', it boots not 
 me to sue for life, when all my hopes are 
 seam-rent, and go wet-shod. 
 
 Spun. This shows thou art a cobler 's 
 son, by going through stitch : O Hircius, 
 would thou and I were so happy to be coblers ! 
 
 Hir. So would I ; for both of us being 
 weary of our lives, should then be sure of 
 shoemaker's ends. 
 
 Spun. I see the beginning of my end, for 
 I am almost starved. 
 
 Hir. So am not I ; but I am more than 
 famished. 
 
 Spiin. All the members in my body are 
 in a rebellion one against another. 
 
 Hir. So are mine, and nothing but a 
 cook, being a constable, can appease them, 
 presenting to my nose, instead of his painted 
 staff, a spit full of roast meat. 
 
 Spun. But in this rebellion, what uproars 
 ! do they make ! my belly cries to my mouth, 
 j Why dost not gape and feed me ? 
 
 Hir. And my mouth sets out a throat to 
 my hand, Why dost thou not lift up meat, 
 and cram. my chops with it ? 
 
 Spun. Then my hand hath a fling at mine 
 
 C2 
 
THE VIRGIN-MARTYR. 
 
 eyes, because they look not out, and shark 
 for victuals. 
 
 Hir. Which mine eyes seeing, full of 
 tears, cry aloud, and curse my feet, for not 
 ambling up and down to feed colon ; sithence 
 if good meat be in any place, 'tis known my 
 feet can smell. 
 
 Spun. But then my feet, like lazy rogues, 
 lie still, and had rather do nothing, 'than run 
 to and fro to purchase anything. 
 
 Hir. Why, among so many millions of 
 , people, should thou and I only be miserable 
 I tatterdemallions, ragamuffins, and lousy 
 desperates? 
 
 Spun. Thou art a mere I-am-an-o, I-am- 
 an-as : consider the whole world, and 'tis as 
 we are. 
 
 Hir. Lousy, beggarly ! thou whoreson 
 assafoetida ! 
 
 Spun. Worse ; all tottering, all out of 
 i frame, thou fooliamini ! 
 
 Hir. As how, arsenic? come, make the 
 world smart. 
 
 Spun. Old honour goes on crutches, 
 beggary rides caroched ; honest men make 
 feasts, 'knaves sit at tables, cowards are 
 lapp'd in velvet, soldiers (as we) in rags ; 
 beauty turns whore ; whore, bawd ; and both 
 die of the pox : why then, when all the 
 world stumbles, should thou and I walk 
 upright ? 
 
 Hir. Stop, look ! who's yonder? 
 
 Enter Angelo. 
 
 Spun. Fellow Angelo ! how does my 
 little man ? well ? 
 
 Ang. Yes ; 
 
 And would you did so too ! Where are 
 your clothes ? 
 
 Hir. Clothes ! You see even- woman 
 almost go in her loose gown, and why should 
 not we have our clothes loose ? 
 
 Spun. Would they were loose ! 
 
 Ang. Why, where are they? 
 
 Spun. Where many a velvet cloak, I 
 \varrant , at this hour, keeps them company ; 
 they are pawned to a broker. 
 
 Ang. Why pawn'd? where 's all the gold 
 I left with you ? 
 
 Hir. The gold ! we put that into a 
 scrivener's hands, and he hath cozen 'd us. 
 
 Spun. And therefore, I prithee, Angelo, 
 if thou hast another purse, let it be confiscate, 
 and brought to devastation. 
 
 Ang. Are you made all of lies? I know 
 
 which way 
 Your guilt-wing' d pieces flew. I will no 
 
 more 
 Be mock'd by you : be sorry for your riots, 
 
 Tame your wild flesh by labour; eat the 
 
 bread 
 Got with hard hands ; let sorrow be your 
 
 whip, 
 Tc draw drops of repentance from your 
 
 heart : 
 
 When I read this amendment in your eyes, 
 You shall not want ; till then, my pity dies. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Spun. Is it not a shame, that this scurvy 
 puerilis should give us lessons ? 
 
 Hir. I have dwelt, thou know'st, a long 
 time in the suburbs of conscience, and they 
 are ever bawdy ; but now my heart shall 
 take a house within the walls of honesty. 
 
 Enter Harpax behind. 
 
 Spun. O you drawers of wine, draw me 
 no more to the bar of beggary ; the sound 
 of Score a pottle of sack, is worse than the 
 noise of a scolding oysterwench, or two cats 
 incorporating. 
 
 Harp. This must not be I do not like 
 
 when conscience 
 Thaws ; keep her frozen still. [Comes 
 
 forward.] How now, my masters ! 
 Dejected? drooping? drown'd in tears? 
 
 clothes torn ? 
 Lean, and ill colour'd? sighing? where 's 
 
 the whirlwind 
 Which raises all these mischiefs? I have 
 
 seen you 
 
 Drawn better on't. O ! but a spirit told me 
 You both would come to this, when in you 
 
 thrust 
 
 Yourselves into the sen-ice of that lady, 
 Who shortly now must die. Where's now 
 
 her praying ? 
 
 What good got you by wearing out your feet, 
 To run on scuny errands to the poor, 
 And to bear money to a sort of rogues, 
 And lousy prisoners ? 
 
 Hir. Pox on them ! I never prospered 
 since I did it. 
 
 Spun. Had I been a pagan still, I should 
 not have spit white for want of drink ; but 
 come to any vintner now, and bid him trust 
 me, because I turned Christian, and he cries, 
 Poh! 
 Harp. You're rightly sensed ; before that 
 
 peevish lady 
 Had to do with you, women, wine, and 
 
 money 
 
 Flow 'd in abundance with you, did it not ? 
 Hir. O, those days ! those days ! 
 Harp. Beat not your breasts, tear not your 
 
 hair in madness ; 
 
 Those days shall come again, be ruled by me; 
 And better, mark me, better. 
 
THE VIRGIN-MARTYR. 
 
 Spun. I have seen you, sir, as I take it, 
 an attendant on the lord Theophilus. 
 
 Harp. Yes, yes ; in shew his servant : but 
 
 hark, hither ! 
 Take heed nobody listens. 
 
 Spun. Not a mouse stirs. 
 
 Harp. I am a prince disguised. 
 
 Hir. Disguised ! how ? drunk ? 
 
 Harp. Yes, my fine boy ! I'll drink too, 
 
 and be drunk ; 
 
 I am a prince, and any man by me, 
 Let him but keep my rules, shall soon grow 
 
 rich, 
 
 Exceeding rich, most infinitely rich : 
 He that shall serve me, is not starved from 
 
 pleasures 
 , As other poor knaves are ; no, take their fill. 
 
 Spun. But that, sir, we're so ragged 
 
 Harp. You'll say, you'd serve me ? 
 
 Hir. Before any master under the zodiac. 
 
 Harp. For clothes no matter ; I've a mind 
 
 to both. 
 And one thing I like in you ; now that you 
 
 see 
 
 The bonfire of your lady's state burnt out, 
 You give it over, do you not ? 
 
 Hir. Let her be hang'd ! 
 
 Spun. And pox'd ! 
 
 Harp. Why, now you're mine ; 
 Come, let my bosom touch you. 
 
 Spun. We have bugs, sir. 
 
 Harp. There's money, fetch your clothes 
 home ; there's for you. 
 
 Hir. Avoid, vermin! give over our mis- 
 tress ! a man cannot prosper worse, if he 
 serve the devil. 
 
 Harp. How! the devil? I'll tell you 
 
 what now of the devil, 
 
 He's no such horrid creature ; cloven-footed, 
 Black, saucer-eyed, his nostrils breathing fire, 
 As these lying Christians make him. 
 
 Both. No!" 
 
 Harp. He's more loving 
 To man, than man to man is. 
 
 Hir. Is he so? Would we two might 
 come acquainted with him ! 
 
 Harp. You shall : he's a wondrous good 
 fellow, loves a cup of wine, a whore, any- 
 thing ; if you have money, it's ten to one 
 but I'll bring him to some^ tavern to you or 
 other. 
 
 Spun. I'll bespeak the best room in the 
 house for him. 
 
 Harp. Some people he cannot endure. 
 
 Hir. We'll give him no such cause. 
 
 Harp. He hates a civil lawyer, as a soldier 
 does peace. 
 
 Spun. How a commoner? 
 
 Harp. I -oves him from the teeth outward. 
 
 Spun. Pray, my lord and prince, let me 
 encounter you with one foolish question : 
 does the devil eat any mace in his broth ! 
 
 Harp. Exceeding much, when his burning 
 fever takes him ; and then he has the knuckles 
 of a bailiff boiled to his breakfast. 
 
 Hir. Then, my lord, he loves a catchpole, 
 does he not ? 
 
 Harp. As a bearward doth a dog. A 
 catchpole ! he hath sworn, if ever he dies, 
 to make a serjeant his heir, and a yeoman 
 his overseer. 
 
 Spun. How if he come to any great man's 
 gate, will the porter let him come in, sir? 
 
 Harp. Oh ! he loves porters of great men's 
 gates, because they are ever so near the wicket. 
 
 Hir. Do not they whom he makes much 
 on, for all his streaking their cheeks, lead 
 hellish lives under him ? 
 
 Harp. No, no, no, no ; he will be damn'd 
 before he hurts any man : do but you (when 
 you are thoroughly acquainted with him) ask 
 for anything, see if it does not come. 
 
 Spun. Anything ! 
 
 Harp. Call for a delicate rare whore, she 
 is brought you. 
 
 Hir. Oh ! my elbow itches. Will the 
 devil keep the door? 
 
 Harp. Be drunk as a beggar, he helps 
 you home. 
 
 Spun. O my fine devil ! some watchman, 
 I warrant ; I wonder who is his constable. 
 
 Harp. Will you swear, roar, swagger? 
 he claps you 
 
 Hir. How ? on the chaps ? 
 
 Harp. No, on the shoulder ; and cries, O, 
 my brave boys ! Will any of you kill a man ? 
 
 'Spun. Yes, yes ; I, I. 
 
 Harp. What is his word ? Hang ! hang ! 
 'tis nothing. Or stab a woman? 
 
 Hir. Yes, yes ; I, I. 
 
 Harp. Here is the worst word he gives 
 you : A pox on't, go on ! 
 
 Hir. O inveigling rascal ! I am ravish'd. 
 
 Harp. Go, get your clothes ; turn up your 
 
 glass of youth, 
 
 And let the sands run merrily : nor do I care 
 From what a lavish hand your money flies, 
 So you give none away to beggars 
 
 Hir. Hang them ! 
 
 Harp. And to the scrubbing poor. 
 
 Hir. I'll see them hang'd first. 
 
 Harp. One service you must do me. 
 
 Both. Anything; 
 
 Harp. Your mistress, Dorothea, ere she 
 
 suffers, 
 
 Is to be put to tortures : have you hearts 
 To tear her into shrieks, to fetch her soul 
 Up in the pangs of death, yet not to die? 
 
THE VIRGIN-MARTYR. 
 
 Hir. Suppose this she, and that I had no 
 
 hands, here's my teeth. 
 Spun. Suppose this she, and that I had no 
 
 teeth, here's my nails. 
 Hir. But will not you be there, sir ? 
 Harp. No, not for hills of diamonds ; the 
 
 grand master, 
 
 Who schools her in the Christian discipline, 
 Abhors my company : should I be there, 
 You'd think all hell broke loose, we should 
 
 so quarrel. 
 
 Plyyou this business; he, her flesh who spares, 
 Is lost, and in my love never more shares. 
 
 \Exit. 
 
 Spun. Here's a master, you rogue ! 
 Hir. Sure he cannot choose but have a 
 horrible number of servants. \Exeunt. 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 SCENE I. The Governor's Palace. 
 
 Antoninus on a couch, asleep, -with Doctors 
 about him ; Sapritius and Macrinus. 
 
 Sap. O you, that are half gods, lengthen 
 
 that life 
 
 Their duties lend us; turn o'er all the volumes 
 Of your mysterious ^Esculapian science, 
 T' increase the number of this young man's 
 
 days : 
 
 And, for each minute of his time prolong'd, 
 Your fee shall be a piece of Roman gold 
 With Caesar's stamp, such as he sends his 
 
 captains 
 When in the wars they earn well : do but 
 
 save him, 
 And, as he's half myself, be you all mine. 
 
 i Doct. What art can do, we promise ; 
 
 physic's hand 
 
 As apt is to destroy as to preserve, 
 If heaven make not the med'cine : all this 
 
 while, 
 
 Our skill hath combat held with his disease ; 
 1 But 'tis so arm'd, and a deep melancholy, 
 To be such in part with death, we are in fear 
 The grave must mock our labours. 
 
 Mac. I have been 
 
 His keeper in this sickness, with such eyes 
 As I have seen my mother watch o'er me ; 
 And, from that observation, sure I find 
 It is a midwife must deliver him. 
 
 Sap. Is he with child ? a midwife ! 
 
 Mac. Yes, with child ; 
 And will, I fear, lose life, if by a woman 
 He is not brought to bed. Standby his pillow 
 Some little while, and, in his broken slumbers, 
 Him shall you hear cry out on Dorothea ; 
 And, when his arms fly open to catch her, 
 Closing together, he falls fast asleep, 
 
 Pleased with embracings of her airy form. 
 Physicians but torment him, his disease 
 Laughs at their gibberish language ; let him 
 
 hear 
 
 The voice of Dorothea, nay, but the name, 
 He starts up with high colour in his face ; 
 She, or none, cures him ; and how that can be, 
 The princess' strict command barring that 
 
 happiness, 
 To me impossible seems. 
 
 Sap. To me it shall not ; 
 I'll be no subject to the greatest Caesar 
 Was ever crown'd with laurel, rather than 
 
 cease 
 To be a father. [Exit. 
 
 Mac. Silence, sir, he wakes. 
 
 Anton. Thou kill'st me, Dorothea ; oh, 
 Dorothea ! 
 
 Mac. She's here : enjoy her. 
 
 Anton. Where? Why do you mock me? 
 Age on my head hath stuck no white hairs yet, 
 Yet I'm an old man, a fond doting fool ' 
 Upon a woman. I, to buy her beauty, 
 (In truth I am bewitch'd,) offer my life. 
 And she, for my acquaintance, hazards hers : 
 Yet for our equal sufferings, none holds out 
 A hand of pity. 
 
 i Doct. Let him have some music. 
 
 Anton. Hell on your fidling ! 
 
 [Starting from his couch. 
 
 i Doct. Take again your bed, sir ; 
 Sleep is a sovereign physic. 
 
 Anton. Take an ass's head, sir : 
 Confusion on your fooleries, your charms ! 
 Thou stinking clyster-pipe, where's the god 
 
 of rest, 
 
 Thy pills and base apothecary drugs 
 Threaten'd to bring unto me ? Out, you 
 
 impostors ! 
 Quacksalving, cheating mountebanks ! your 
 
 skill 
 Is to make sound men sick, and sick men kilL 
 
 Mac. Oh, be yourself, dear friend. 
 
 Anton. Myself, Macrinus ! 
 How can I be myself, when I am mangled 
 Into a thousand pieces? here moves my head, 
 But where's my heart ? wherever that lies 
 dead. 
 
 Re-enter Sapritius, dragging in Dorothea by 
 the hair, Angelo following. 
 
 Sap. Follow me, thou damn'd sorceress ! 
 
 Call up thy spirits, 
 
 And, if they can, now let them from my hand 
 Untwine these witching hairs. 
 
 Anton. I am that spirit : 
 Or, if I be not, were you not my father, 
 One made of iron should hew that hand in 
 pieces, 
 
THE VIRGIN-MARTYR. 
 
 That so defaces this sweet monument 
 Of rny love's beauty. 
 Sap. Art thou sick ? 
 Anton. To death. 
 Sap. Wouldst thou recover ? 
 Anton. Would I live in bliss ! 
 Sap. And do thine eyes shoot daggers at 
 
 that man 
 That brings thee health ? 
 
 Anton. It is not in the world. 
 Sap. It's here. 
 
 Anton. To treasure, by enchantment lock'd 
 In caves as deep as hell, am I as near. 
 Sap. Break that enchanted cave : enter, 
 
 and rifle 
 
 The spoils thy lust hunts after ; I descend 
 To a base office, and become thy pander, 
 In bringing thee this proud thing : make her 
 
 thy whore, 
 
 Thy health lies here ; if she deny to give it, 
 Force it : imagine thou assault'st a town's 
 Weak wall ; to't, 'tis thine own, but beat this 
 
 down. 
 
 Come, and, unseen, be witness to this bat- 
 tery, 
 
 How the coy strumpet yields, 
 i Doct. Shall the boy stay, sir ? 
 Sap. No matter for the boy : pages are 
 
 used 
 To these odd bawdy shufflings ; and, indeed, 
 
 are 
 Those little young snakes in a Fury's head, 
 
 Will sting worse than the great ones. 
 
 Let the pimp stay. 
 
 [Exeunt Sap. Mac. and Doct. 
 Dor. O, guard me, angels ! 
 What tragedy must begin now ? 
 
 Anton. When a tiger 
 Leaps into a timorous herd, with ravenous 
 
 jaws, 
 Being hunger-starv'd, what tragedy then 
 
 begins ? 
 
 Dor. Death; I am happy so; you, hitherto, 
 Have still had goodness sphered within your 
 
 eyes, 
 
 Let not that orb be broken. 
 Ang. Fear not, mistress ; 
 If he dare offer violence, we two 
 Are strong enough for such a sickly man. 
 Dor. What is your horrid purpose, sir? 
 
 your eye 
 Bears danger in it. 
 
 Anton. I must 
 
 Dor. What? 
 
 Sap. \within.~] Speak it out. 
 Anton. Climb that sweet virgin tree. 
 Sap. [within.'] Plague o' your trees ! 
 Anton. And pluck that fruit which none, 
 I think, e'er tasted. 
 
 Sap. [within.'] A soldier, and stand fumb- 
 ling so ! 
 
 Dor. Oh, kill me, [kneels. 
 
 And heaven will take it as a sacrifice ; 
 But, if you play the ravisher, there is 
 A hell to swallow you. 
 
 Sap. [within] Let her swallow thee ! 
 Anton. Rise : for the Roman empire, 
 
 Dorothea, 
 I would not wound thine honour. Pleasures 
 
 forced, 
 Are unripe apples ; sour, not worth the 
 
 plucking : 
 
 Yet, let me tell you, 'tis my father's will, 
 That I should seize upon you, as my prey ; 
 Which I abhor, as much as the blackest sia 
 The villainy of man did ever act. 
 
 [Sapritius breaks in with Macrinus. 
 Dor. Die happy for this language ! 
 Sap. Die a slave, 
 A blockish idiot ! 
 
 Mac. Dear sir, vex him not. 
 
 Sap. Yes, and vex thee too ; both, I think, 
 
 are geldings : 
 Cold, phlegmatic bastard, thou'rt no brat of 
 
 mine ; 
 
 One spark of me, when I had heat like thine. 
 By this had made a bonfire : a tempting 
 
 whore, 
 For whom thou'rt mad, thrust e'en into 
 
 thine arms, 
 And stand 'st thou puling ! Had a tailor 
 
 seen her 
 
 At this advantage, he, with his cross capers, 
 Had ruffled her by this : but thou shalt curse 
 Thy dalliance, and here, before her eyes, 
 Tear thy own flesh in pieces, when a slave 
 In hot lust bathes himself, and gluts those 
 
 pleasures 
 Thy niceness durst not touch. Call out a 
 
 slave ; 
 
 You, captain of our guard, fetch a slave hither. 
 Anton. What will you do, dear sir? 
 Sap. Teach her a trade, which many a 
 
 one would learn 
 In less than half an hour, to play the whore. 
 
 Enter Soldiers with a Slave. 
 
 Mac . A slave is come ; what now ? 
 
 Sap. Thou hast bones and flesh 
 Enough to ply thy labour : from what country 
 Wert thou ta'en a prisoner, here to be our 
 slave ? 
 
 Slave. From Britain. 
 
 Sap. In the west ocean ? 
 
 Slave. Yes. 
 
 Sap. An island ? 
 
 Slave. Yes. 
 
 Sap. I'm fitted : of all nations 
 
THE VIRGIN-MARTYR. 
 
 Our Roman swords e'er conquer'd, none 
 
 comes near 
 
 The Briton for true whoring. Sirrah fellow, 
 What wouldst thou do to gain thy liberty ? 
 Slave. Do ! liberty ! fight naked with a 
 
 lion, 
 
 Venture to pluck a standard from the heart 
 Of an arm'd legion. Liberty ! I'd thus 
 Bestride a rampire, and defiance spit 
 I" the face of death, then, when the batter- 
 ing-ram 
 
 Was fetching his career backward, to pash 
 Me with his horns in pieces. To shake my 
 
 chains off, 
 
 And that I could not do't but by thy death, 
 Stood'st thou on this dry shore, 'l on a rock 
 Ten pyramids high, down would I leap to 
 
 kill thee, 
 
 Or die myself : what is for man to do, 
 I'll venture on, to be no more a slave. 
 Sap. Thou shalt, then, be no slave, for I 
 
 will set thee 
 
 Upon a piece of work is fit for man ; 
 Brave for a Briton : drag that thing aside, 
 And ravish her. 
 
 Slave. And ravish her ! is this your manly 
 
 service ? 
 
 A devil scorns to do it ; 'tis for a beast, 
 A villain, not a man : I am, as yet, 
 But half a slave ; but, when that work is past, 
 A damned whole one, a black ugly slave, 
 The slave of all base slaves : do't thyself, 
 
 Roman, 
 'Tis drudgery fit for thee. 
 
 Sap. He's bewitched too : 
 Bind him, and with a bastinado give him, 
 Upon his naked belly, two hundred blows. 
 Slave. Thou art more slave than I. 
 
 [He is carried in. 
 Dor. That power supernal, on whom 
 
 waits my soul, 
 Is captain o er my chastity. 
 
 Anton. Good sir, give o'er : 
 The more you wrong her, yourself s vex'd 
 
 the more. 
 Sap. Plagues light on her and thee ! 
 
 thus down I throw 
 
 Thy harlot, thus by the hair nail her to earth. 
 Call in ten slaves, 'let every one discover 
 What lust desires, and surfeit here his fill. 
 Call in ten slaves. 
 
 . Enter Slaves. 
 
 Mac. They are come, sir, at your call. 
 Sap. Oh, oh ! [Falls down. 
 
 Enter Theophilus. 
 Theoph. Where is the governor? 
 Anton. There's my wretched father. 
 
 Theoph. My lord Sapritius he's not 
 
 dead ! my lord ! 
 That witch there 
 
 Anton. 'Tis no Roman gods can strike 
 These fearful terrors. O, thou happy maid, 
 Forgive this wicked purpose of my lather. 
 Dor. I do. 
 Theoph. Gone, gone; he's pepper'd. It 
 
 is thou 
 Hast done this act infernal. 
 
 Dor. Heaven pardon you ! 
 And if my wrongs from thence pull ven- 
 geance down, 
 
 (I can no miracles work,) yet, from my soul, 
 
 Pray to those Powers I serve, he may recover. 
 
 Theoph. He stirs help, raise him up, 
 
 my lord ! 
 
 Sap. Where am I ? 
 Theoph. One cheek is blasted. 
 Sap. Blasted ! where's the lamia 
 That tears my entrails? I'm bewitcli'd ; 
 
 seize on her. 
 
 Dor. I'm here ; do what you please. 
 Theoph. Spurn her to the bar. 
 Dor. Come, boy, being there, more near 
 
 to heaven we are. 
 Sap. Kick harder ; go out, witch ! 
 
 \E.\~eunt. 
 Anton. O bloody hangmen ! Thine own 
 
 gods give thee breath ! 
 Each of thy tortures is my several death. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 SCENE II. A Public Square. 
 
 Enter Harpax, Hircius, and Spungius. 
 
 Harp. Do you like my sen-ice now ? say, 
 
 am not I 
 A master worth attendance ? 
 
 Spun. Attendance ! 1 had rather lick 
 clean the soles of your dirty boots, than 
 wear the richest suit of any infected lord, 
 whose rotten life hangs between the two 
 poles. 
 
 Hir. A lord's suit i I would not give up 
 the cloak of your sen-ice, to meet the splay- 
 foot estate of any left-eyed knight above 
 the antipodes ; because they are unlucky to 
 meet. 
 
 Harp. This day I'll try your loves to me ; 
 
 'tis only 
 But well to use the agility of your arms. 
 
 Spun. Or legs, I'm lusty at them. 
 
 Hir. Orany other member that has no legs. 
 
 Spun. Thou'lt run into some hole. 
 
 Hir. If I meet one that's more than my 
 match, and that I cannot stand in their 
 hands, I must and will creep on my knees. 
 
 Harp. Hear me, my little team of villains, 
 hear me ; 
 
THE VIRGIN-MARTYR. 
 
 I cannot teach you fencing with these cudgels, 
 Yet you must use them ; lay them on but 
 
 soundly ; 
 That's all. 
 
 Hir. Nay, if we come to mauling once, 
 pah! 
 
 Spun. But what walnut-tree is it we must 
 beat? 
 
 Harp. Your mistress. 
 
 Hir. How ! my mistress ? I begin to have 
 a Christian heart made of sweet butter. I 
 melt ; I cannot strike a woman. 
 
 Spun. Nor I, unless she scratch ; bum 
 my mistress ! 
 
 Harp. You're coxcombs, silly animals. 
 
 Hir. What's that? 
 
 Harp. Drones, asses, blinded moles, that 
 
 dare not thrust 
 Your arms out to catch fortune ; say, you 
 
 fall off, 
 
 It must be done. You are converted rascals, 
 And, that once spread abroad, why every 
 
 slave 
 
 Will kick you, call you motley Christians, 
 Arid half-faced Christians. 
 
 Spun. The guts of my conscience begin 
 to be of whitleather. 
 
 Hir. I doubt me, I shall have no sweet 
 butter in me. 
 
 Harp. Deny this, and each pagan whom 
 
 you meet, 
 Shall forked fingers thrust into your eyes 
 
 Hir. If we be cuckolds. 
 
 Harp. Do this, and every god the Gentiles 
 
 bow to, 
 Shall add a fathom to your line of years. 
 
 Spun. A hund ied fathom, I desire no more. 
 
 Hir. I desire but one inch longer. 
 
 Harp. The senators will, as you pass along, 
 Clap you upon your shoulders with this hand, 
 And with this give you gold : when you are 
 
 dead, 
 
 Happy that man shall be, can get a nail, 
 The paring, nay, the dirt under the nail, 
 Of any of you both, to say, this dirt 
 Belonged to Spungius or Hircius. 
 
 Spun. They shall not want dirt under my 
 nails, I will keep them long of purpose, for 
 now my fingers itch to be at her. 
 
 Hir. The first thing I do, I'll take her 
 over the lips. 
 
 Spun. And I the hips, we may strike 
 anywhere ? 
 
 Harp. Yes, anywhere. 
 
 Hir. Then I know where I'll hit her. 
 
 Harp. Prosper, and be mine own ; stand 
 
 by, I must not 
 
 To see this done, great business calls me 
 hence : 
 
 He's made can make her curse his violence. 
 
 [Exit. 
 Spun. Fear it not, sir ; her ribs shall be 
 
 basted. 
 
 Hir. I'll come upon her with rounce, 
 robble-hobble, and thwick-thwack-thirleiy 
 bouncing. 
 
 Enter Dorothea, led prisoner ; Sapritius, 
 Theophilus, Angelo, and a Hangman, 
 who sets up a pillar ; Sapritius and Theo- 
 philus sit ; Angelo stands by Dorothea. 
 A guard attending. 
 
 Sap. According to our Roman customs, 
 
 bind 
 
 That Christian to a pillar. 
 Theoph. Infernal Furies, 
 Could they into my hand thrust all their 
 
 whips 
 
 To tear thy flesh, thy soul, 'tis not a torture 
 Fit to the vengeance I should heap on thee, 
 For wrongs done me; me! forflagitious facts, 
 By thee done to our gods ; yet, so it stand, 
 To great Caesarea's governor's high pleasure, 
 Bow but thy knee to Jupiter, and offer 
 Any slight sacrifice ; or do but swear 
 
 By Caesar's fortune, and be free. 
 
 Sap. Thou shalt. 
 
 Dor. Not for all Caesar's fortune, were it 
 
 chain'd 
 To more worlds than are kingdoms in the 
 
 world, 
 
 And all those worlds drawn after him. I defy 
 Your hangmen ; you now shew me whither 
 
 to fly. 
 
 Sap. Are her tormentors ready ? 
 Ang. Shrink not, dear mistress. 
 Spun and Hir. My lord, we are ready 
 for the business. 
 
 Dor. You two ! whom I like foster 'd 
 
 children fed, 
 And lengthen'd out your starved life with 
 
 bread. 
 You be my hangmen ! whom, when up the 
 
 ladder 
 Death haled you to be strangled, I fetch VI 
 
 down, 
 Clothed you, and warm'd you, you two my 
 
 tormentors ! 
 Both. Yes, we. 
 
 Dor. Divine Powers pardon you ! 
 Sap. Strike. 
 [They strike at her! Angelo kneeling 
 
 holds her fast. 
 
 Theoph. Beat out her brains. 
 Dor. Receive me, you bright angels ! 
 Sap. Faster, slaves. 
 Spun. Faster ! I am out of breath, I am 
 
THE VIRGIN-MARTYR. 
 
 sure ; if I were to beat a buck, I can strike 
 no harder. 
 Hir. O mine arms ! I cannot lift them 
 
 to my head. 
 Dor. Joy above joys ! are my tormentors 
 
 weary- 
 In torturing me, and, in my sufferings, 
 I fainting in no limb ! tyrants, strike home, 
 And feast your fury full. 
 
 Theoph. These dogs are curs, 
 
 [Comes from his seat. 
 Which snarl, yet bite not. See, my lord, 
 
 her face 
 
 Has more bewitching beauty than before : 
 Proud whore, it smiles ! cannot an eye start 
 
 out, 
 With these ? 
 
 Hir. No, sir ; nor the bridge of her nose 
 fall ; 'tis full of iron work. 
 
 Sap. Let's view the cudgels, are they not 
 
 counterfeit ? 
 
 Ang. There fix thine eye still ; thy glo- 
 rious crown must come 
 Not from soft pleasure, but by martyrdom. 
 There fix thine eye still ; when we next do 
 
 meet, 
 
 Not thorns, but roses, shall bear up thy feet : 
 There fix thine eye still. [Exit. 
 
 Dor. Ever, ever, ever ! 
 
 Enter Harpax, sneaking. 
 
 Theoph. We're mock'd ; these bats have 
 
 power to fell down giants, 
 Yet her skin is not scarr'd. 
 Sap. What rogues are these? 
 Theoph. Cannot these force a shriek ? 
 
 [Beats Spungius. 
 
 Spun. Oh ! a woman has one of my ribs, 
 and now five more are broken. 
 
 Theoph. Cannot this make her roar? 
 
 [Beats Hircius ; he roars. 
 Sap. Who hired these slaves? what are 
 
 they? 
 
 Spun. We serve that noble gentleman, 
 there ; he enticed us to this dry beating ; oh ! 
 for one half pot. 
 
 Harp. My servants ! two base rogues, and 
 
 sometime servants 
 
 To her, and for that cause forbear to hurt her. 
 Sap. Unbind her ; hang up these. 
 Theoph. Hang the two hounds on the 
 
 next tree. 
 
 Hir. Hang us ! master Harpax, what a 
 devil, shall we be thus used ? 
 
 Harp. What bandogs but you two would 
 
 worry a woman ? 
 
 Your mistress ? I but clapt you, you flew on. 
 Say I should get your lives, each rascal 
 beggar 
 
 Would, when he met you, cry out, Hell- 
 hounds ! traitors ! 
 
 Spit at you, fling dirt at you ; and no woman 
 Ever endure your sight : 'tis your best course 
 Now, had you secret knives, to stab your- 
 selves ; 
 But, since you have not, go and be hang'd. 
 
 Hir. I thank you. 
 
 Harp. 'Tis your best course. 
 
 Theoph. Why stay they trifling here ? 
 To the gallows drag them by the heels ; 
 away ! 
 
 Spun." By the heels ! no, sir, we have legs 
 to do us that service. 
 
 Hir. Ay, ay, if no woman can endure my 
 sight, away with me. 
 
 Harp. Dispatch them. 
 
 Spun. The devil dispatch thee ! 
 [Exeunt Guard -with Spungius and Hircius. 
 
 Sap. Death this day rides in triumph, 
 
 Theophilus. 
 See this witch made away too. 
 
 Theoph. My soul thirsts for it ; 
 Come, I myself the hangman's part could play. 
 
 Dor. O haste me to my coronation day ! 
 
 SCENE III. The Place of Execution. A 
 
 sea/old, block, &>c. 
 
 Enter Antoninus, supported by Macrinus, 
 and Servants. 
 
 Anton. Is this the place, where virtue is 
 
 to suffer, 
 
 And heavenly beauty, leaving this base earth, 
 To make a glad return from whence it came ? 
 Is it, Macrinus ? 
 
 Mac. By this preparation, 
 You well may rest assured that Dorothea 
 This hour is to die here. 
 
 Anton. Then with her dies 
 The abstract of all sweetness that's in woman! 
 Set me down, friend, that, ere the iron hand 
 Of death close up mine eyes, they may at once 
 Take my last leave both of this light and her: 
 For, she being gone, the glorious sun himself 
 To me's Cimmerian darkness. 
 
 Mac. Strange affection ! 
 Cupid once more hath changed his shafts 
 
 with Death, 
 And kills instead of giving life. 
 
 Anton. Nay, weep not ; 
 Though tears of friendship be a sovereign 
 
 balm, 
 
 On me they're cast away. It is decreed 
 That I must die with her ; our clue of life 
 Was spun together. 
 
 Mac. Yet, sir, 'tis my wonder, 
 That you, who, hearing only what she suffers, 
 Partake of all her tortures, yet will be, 
 To add to our calamity, an eyewitness 
 
THE VIRGIN-MARTYR. 
 
 = 7 
 
 Of her last tragic scene, which must pierce 
 
 deeper, 
 And make the wound more desperate. 
 
 Anton. Oh, Macrinus ! 
 'Twould linger out my torments else, not 
 
 kill me, 
 
 Which is the end I aim at : being to die too, 
 What instrument more glorious can I wish for, 
 Than what is made sharp by my constant love 
 And true affection? It may be, the duty 
 And loyal service, with which I pursued her, 
 And seal'd it with my death, will be re- 
 member 'd 
 
 Among her blessed actions ; and what honour 
 Can I desire beyond it ? 
 
 Enter a Guard bringing in Dorothea, a 
 Headsman before her : followed by Theo- 
 philus, Sapritius, and Harpax. 
 
 See, she comes ; 
 
 How sweet her innocence appears ! more like 
 To heaven itself, than any sacrifice 
 That can be offer'd to it. By my hopes 
 Of joys hereafter, the sight makes me doubtful 
 In my belief ; nor can I think our gods 
 Are good, or to be served, that take delight 
 In offerings of this kind : that, to maintain 
 Their power, deface the masterpiece of 
 
 nature, 
 Which they themselves come short of. She 
 
 ascends, 
 
 And every step raises her nearer heaven. 
 What god soe'erthou art, that must enjoyher, 
 Receive in her a boundless happiness ! 
 
 Sap. You are to blame 
 To let him come abroad. 
 Mac. It was his will ; 
 And we were left to serve him, not command 
 
 him. 
 Anton. Good sir, be not offended ; nor 
 
 deny 
 
 My last of pleasures in this happy object, 
 That I shall e'er be blest with. 
 
 Thcoph. Now, proud contemner 
 Of us, and of our gods, tremble to think, 
 It is not in the Power thou serv'st to save 
 
 thee. 
 
 Not all the riches of the sea, increased 
 By violent shipwrecks, nor the unsearch'd 
 
 mines, 
 
 (Mammon's unknown exchequer,) shall re- 
 deem thee : 
 And, therefore, having first with horror 
 
 weigh 'd 
 What 'tis to die, and to die young ; to part 
 
 with 
 
 All pleasures and delights ; lastly, to go 
 Where all antipathies to comfort dwell, 
 Furies behind, about thee, and before thee ; 
 
 And, to add to affliction, the remembrance 
 Of the Elysian joys thou might'st have tasted, 
 Hadst thou not turn'd apostata to those gods 
 That so reward their servants ; let despair 
 Prevent the hangman's sword, and on this 
 
 scaffold 
 Make thy first entrance into hell. 
 
 Anton. She smiles, 
 
 Unmoved, by Mars ! as if she were assured 
 Death, looking on her constancy, would 
 
 forget 
 The use of his inevitable hand. 
 
 Theoph. Derided too ! dispatch, I say. 
 Dor. Thou fool ! 
 
 That gloriest in having power to ravish 
 A trifle from me I am weary of, 
 What is this life to me? not worth a thought ; 
 Or, if it be esteem'd, 'tis that I lose it 
 To win a better : even thy malice serves 
 To me but as a ladder to mount up 
 To such a height of happiness, where I shall 
 Look down with scorn on thee, and on the 
 
 world ; 
 Where, circled with true pleasures, placed 
 
 above 
 
 The reach of death or time, 'twill be my glory 
 To think at what an easy price I bought it. 
 There's a perpetual spring, perpetual youth: 
 No joint-benumbing cold, or scorching heat, 
 Famine, nor age, have any being there. 
 Forget, for shame, your Tempe ; bury in 
 Oblivion your feign 'd Hesperian orchards : 
 The golden fruit, kept by the watchful 
 
 dragon, 
 
 Which did require a Hercules to get it, 
 Compared with what grows in all plenty 
 
 there, 
 Deserves not to be named. The Power I 
 
 serve, 
 
 Laughs at your happy Araby, or the 
 Elysian shades ; for he hath made his bowers 
 Better in deed, than you can fancy yours. 
 Anton. O, take me thither with you ! 
 Dor. Trace my steps, 
 And be assured you shall. 
 
 Sap. With my own hands 
 I'll rather stop that little breath is left thee. 
 And rob thy killing fever. 
 Theoph. By no means ; 
 Let him go with her : do, seduced young 
 
 man, 
 
 And wait upon thy saint in death ; do, do : 
 And, when you come to that imagined place 
 That place of all delights pray you, ob- 
 serve me, 
 And meet those cursed things I once called 
 
 Daughters, 
 
 Whom I have sent as harbingers before you ; 
 If there be any tiuth in your religion, 
 
THE VIRGIN-MARTYR. 
 
 In thankfulness to me, that with care hasten 
 Your journey thither, pray you send me some 
 Small pittance of that curious fruit you boast 
 
 of. 
 Anton. Grant that I may go with her, and 
 
 I will. 
 Sap. Wilt thou in thy last minute damn 
 
 thyself? 
 
 Theoph. The gates to hell are open. 
 Dor' Know, thou tyrant, 
 Thou agent for the devil, thy great master, 
 Though thou art most unworthy to taste 
 
 of it, 
 J can, and will. 
 
 Enter Angelo, in the Angel's habit. 
 
 Harp. Oh ! mountains fall upon me, 
 Or hide me in the bottom of the deep, 
 Where light may never find me ! 
 
 Theoph. What's the matter? 
 
 Sap. This is prodigious, and confirms her 
 witchcraft. 
 
 Theoph. Harpax, my Harpax, speak ! 
 
 Harp. I dare not stay : 
 Should I but hear her once more, I were lost. 
 Some whirlwind snatch me from this cursed 
 
 place, 
 To which compared, (and with what now I 
 
 suffer,) 
 Hell's torments are sweet slumbers ! \Exit. 
 
 Sap. Follow him. 
 
 Theoph. He is distracted, and I must not 
 
 lose him. 
 
 Thy charms upon my servant, cursed witch, 
 Give thee a short reprieve. Let her not die, 
 Till my return. [Exeunt Sap. and Theoph. 
 
 Anton. She minds him not : what object 
 Is her eye fix'd on ? 
 
 Mac. I see nothing. 
 
 Anton. Mark her. 
 
 Dor. Thou glorious minister of the Power 
 
 I serve ! 
 
 (For thou art more than mortal,) is't for me, 
 Poor sinner, thou art pleased awhile to leave 
 Thy heavenly habitation, and vouchsafest, 
 Though glorified, to take my servant's 
 
 habit ? 
 
 For, put off thy divinity, so look'd 
 My lovely Angelo. 
 
 Ang. Know, I am the same; 
 And still the servant to your piety. 
 Your zealous prayers, and pious deeds first 
 
 won me 
 (But 'twas by His command to whom you 
 
 sent them) 
 
 To guide your steps. I tried your charity, 
 When in a beggar's shape you took me up, 
 And clothed my naked limbs, and after fed, 
 
 ! As you believed, my famish'd mouth. Learn 
 
 I By your example, to look on the poor 
 
 | With gentle eyes ! for in such habits, often, 
 
 Angels desire an alms. I never left you, 
 i Nor will I now ; for I am sent to carry 
 
 Your pure and innocent soul to joys eternal, 
 ! Your martyrdom once suffer'd ; and before it, 
 
 Ask any thing from me, and rest assured, 
 
 You shall obtain it. 
 
 Dor. I am largely paid 
 
 Forall my torments. Since I find such grace, 
 
 Grant that the love of this young man to me, 
 I In which he languisheth to death, may be 
 
 Changed to the love of heaven. 
 Ang. I will perform it ; 
 
 And in that instant when the sword sets free 
 i Your happy soul, his shall have liberty. 
 
 Is there aught else? 
 
 Dor. For proof that I forgive 
 ; My persecutor, who in scorn desired 
 I To taste of that most sacred fruit I go to ; 
 
 After my death, as sent from me, be pleased 
 
 To give him of it. 
 
 Ang. Willingly, dear mistress. 
 Mac. I am amazed. 
 Anton. I feel a holy fire, 
 ' That yields a comfortable heat within me ; 
 
 I am quite alter'd from the thing I was. 
 1 See ! I can stand, and go alone ; thus kneel 
 , To heavenly Dorothea, touch her hand 
 
 With a religious kiss. \Kncels. 
 
 Re-enter Sapritius and Theophilus. 
 
 Sap. He is well now, 
 But will not be drawn back. 
 
 Theoph. It matters not, 
 We can discharge this work without his help. 
 But see your son. 
 Sap. Villain ! 
 Anton. Sir, I beseech you, 
 Being so near our ends, divorce us not. 
 Theoph. I'll quickly make a separation of 
 
 them : 
 Hast thou aught else to say ? 
 
 Dor. Nothing, but to blame 
 Thy tardiness in sending me to rest ; 
 My peace is made with heaven, to which 
 
 my soul 
 Begins to take her flight : strike, O ! strike 
 
 . quickly ; 
 And, though you are unmoved to see my 
 
 death, 
 
 Hereafter, when my story shall be read, 
 As they were present now, the hearers shall 
 Say this of Dorothea, with wet eyes, 
 " She lived a virgin, and a virgin dies " 
 \_Hcr head is struc 
 
THE VIRGIN-MARTYR. 
 
 Anton. O, take my soul along, to wait on 
 
 thine ! 
 Mac . Your son sinks too. 
 
 [Antoninus falls. 
 Sap. Already dead ! 
 Thcoph. Die all 
 
 That are, or favour this accursed sect : 
 I triumph in their ends, and will raise up 
 A hill of their dead carcasses, to o'erlook 
 The Pyrenean hills, but I '11 root out 
 These superstitious fools, and leave the world 
 No name of Christian. 
 
 \Loud music: Exit Angelo, having 
 first laid his hand upon the 
 mouths of Anton, and Dor. 
 Sap. Ha ! heavenly music ! 
 Mac. Tis in the air. 
 Theoph. Illusions of the devil, 
 Wrought by some witch of her religion, 
 That fain would make her death a miracle ; 
 It frights not me. Because he is your son, 
 Let him have burial ; but let her body 
 Be cast forth with contempt in some high- 
 way, 
 And be to vultures and to dogs a prey. 
 
 _____ \_Exeuni. 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 SCENE I. Theophilus discovered sitting 
 in his Study : books about him. 
 
 Theoph. Is 't holiday, O Caesar, that thy 
 
 servant, 
 
 Thy provost, to see execution done 
 On these base Christians in Cassarea, 
 Should now want work ? Sleep these ido- 
 laters, 
 
 That none are stirring? As a curious painter, 
 When he has made some honourable piece, 
 Stands off, and with a searching eye ex- 
 amines 
 Each colour, how 'tis sweeten'd ; and then 
 
 hugs 
 
 Himself for his rare workmanship so here, 
 Will I my drolleries, and bloody landscapes, 
 Long past wrapt up, unfold, to make me 
 
 merry 
 
 With shadows, now I want the substances. 
 My muster-book of hell-hounds. Were 
 
 the Christians, 
 Whose names stand here, alive and arm'd, 
 
 not Rome 
 Could move upon her hinges. What I've 
 
 done, 
 
 Or shall hereafter, is not out of hate 
 To poor tormented wretches ; no, I'm carried 
 With violence of zeal, and streams of service 
 I owe our Roman gods. Great Britain, 
 what ? [reads. 
 
 A thousand wives, with, brats sucking then- 
 breasts, 
 
 Had hot irons pinch them off, and thrown 
 to swine ; 
 
 And then their fieshy back-parts, hcw'd with 
 hatchets, 
 
 Were minced and baked in pics, to feed 
 starv'd Christians. 
 
 Ha ! ha ! 
 
 Again, again, East Angles, oh, East 
 Angles : 
 
 Bandogs, kept three days hungry, worried 
 
 A thousand British rascals, stied np fat 
 
 Of purpose, stripped naked, and disarm d. 
 
 I could outstare a year of suns and moons, 
 
 To sit at these sweet bull-baitings, so I 
 
 Could thereby but one Christian win to fall 
 
 In adoration to my Jupiter. Twelve hun- 
 dred 
 
 Eyes bored with augers out Oh ! eleven \ 
 thousand 
 
 Torn by wild beasts: two hundred ramm 'd \ 
 in the earth 
 
 To the armpits, and full platters round 
 about them, 
 
 But far enough for reaching: Eat, dogs, 
 ha ! ha ! ha ! ''He rises. 
 
 Tush, all these tortures are but fillipings, 
 
 Fleabitings ; I, before the Destinies 
 
 Enter Angelo with a basket filled with fruit 
 
 andfiowers. 
 
 My bottom did wind up, would flesh myself 
 Once more upon some one remarkable 
 Above all these. This Christian slut was 
 
 well, 
 
 A pretty one ; but let such horror follow 
 The next I feed with torments, that when 
 
 Rome 
 
 Shall hear it, her foundation at the sound 
 Mav feel an earthquake. Ho\v now? 
 
 [Music,. 
 
 Ang. Are you amazed, sir? 
 So great a Roman spirit and doth it 
 
 tremble ! 
 Theoph. How cam'st thou in? to whom. 
 
 thy business ? 
 Ang. To you : 
 
 I had a mistress, late sent hence by you 
 Upon a bloody errand ; you entreated, 
 That, when she came into that blessed garden 
 Whither she knew she went, and where, 
 
 now happy, 
 She feeds upon all joy, she would send to you 
 Some of that garden fruit and flowers ; 
 
 which here 
 To have "her promise saved, are brought by 
 
 me. 
 Theoph. Cannot I see this garden ? 
 
3 
 
 THE VIRGIN-MARTYR. 
 
 Aug. Yes, if the master 
 Will give you entrance. {He vanishes. 
 
 Theoph. 'Tis a tempting fruit, 
 And the most bright-cheek'd child I ever 
 
 view'd ; 
 Sweet smelling, goodly fruit. What flowers 
 
 are these ? 
 
 In Dioclesian's gardens, the most beauteous, 
 Compared with these, are weeds : is it not 
 
 February, 
 The second day she died? frost, ice, and 
 
 snow, 
 
 Hang on the beard of winter : where'sthesun 
 That gilds this summer ? pretty, sweet boy, 
 
 say, 
 
 In what country shall a man find this gar- 
 den? 
 My delicate boy, gone ! vanish'd ! within 
 
 there, 
 Julianus ! Geta ! 
 
 Enter Julianus and Geta. 
 
 Both. My lord. 
 
 Theoph. Are my gates shut ? 
 
 Geta. And guarded. 
 
 Theoph. Saw you not 
 A boy? 
 
 Jul. Where? 
 
 Theoph. Here he enter'd ; a young lad ; 
 A thousand blessings danced upon his eyes : 
 A smoothfaced glorious thing, that brought 
 this basket. 
 
 Geta. No, sir ! 
 
 Theoph. Away but be inreach.if my voice 
 
 calls you. {Exeunt Jul. and Geta. 
 
 No ! vanish'd, and not seen ! be thou a 
 
 spirit, sent from that witch to mock me, 
 
 I am sure 
 
 This is essential, and, howe'er it grows, 
 Will taste it. [Eats of the fruit. 
 
 Harp, [within.'] Ha, ha, ha, ha! 
 
 Theoph. So good ! I'll have some more, 
 sure. 
 
 Harp. Ha, ha, ha, ha! great liquorish fool! 
 
 Theoph. What art thou ? 
 
 Harp. A fisherman. 
 
 Theoph. What dost thou catch ? 
 
 Harp. Souls, souls ; a fish call'd souls. 
 
 Theoph. Geta! 
 
 Re-enter Geta. 
 
 Geta. My lord. 
 
 Harp. \withinJ] Ha, ha, ha, ha ! 
 
 Theoph. What insolent slave is this, dares 
 | laugh at me ? 
 Or what is "t the dog grins at so ? 
 
 Geta. I neither know, my lord, at what, 
 nor whom ; for there is none without, but 
 
 my fellow Julianus, and he is making a gar- 
 land for Jupiter. 
 
 Theoph. Jupiter! all within me is not well ; 
 And yet not sick. 
 
 Harp. [within."] Ha, ha, ha, ha ! 
 Theoph. What's thy name, slave? 
 Harp, [at one end of the room.] Go look. 
 Geta. Tis Harpax' voice. 
 Theoph. Harpax ! go, drag the caitiff to 
 
 my foot, 
 That I may stamp upon him. 
 
 Harp, {at the other end.] Fool, thou liest ! 
 Geta. He's yonder, now, my lord. 
 Theoph. Watch thou that end, 
 Whilst I make good this. 
 
 Harp, [in the middle.'} Ha, ha, ha, ha ha ! 
 Theoph. He is at barley-break, and the 
 
 last couple 
 Are now in hell. 
 Search for him. [Exit Geta.] All this ground, 
 
 methinks, is bloody, 
 
 And paved with thousands of those Chris- 
 tians' eyes 
 Whom I have tortured ; and they stare upon 
 
 me. 
 
 What was this apparition? sure it had 
 A shape angelical. Mine eyes, though 
 
 dazzled, 
 
 And daunted at first sight, tell me, it wore 
 A pair of glorious wings; yes, they were wings; 
 
 And hence he flew : 'tis vanish'd ! Jupiter, 
 
 For all my sacrifices done to him, 
 
 Never once gave me smile. How can stone 
 
 smile? 
 Or wooden image laugh? [music.'] Ha! I 
 
 remember, 
 
 Such music gave a welcome to mine ear, 
 When the fair youth came to me : 'tis in 
 
 the air, 
 
 Or from some better place ; a Power divine, 
 Thiough my dark ignorance, on my soul 
 
 does shine, 
 
 And makes me see a conscience all stain'do'er, 
 Nay, drown'd and damn'd for ever in Chris- 
 tian gore. 
 
 Harp, [within ^\ Ha, ha, ha ! 
 Theoph. Again ! What dainty relish on 
 
 my tongue 
 
 This fruit hath left ! some angel hath me fed ; 
 If so toothfull, I will be banqueted. 
 
 {Eats again. 
 
 Enter Harpax in a fearful shape, fire flash- 
 ing out of the Study. 
 
 Harp. Hold! 
 
 Theoph. Not for Caesar. 
 Harp. But for me thou shalt. 
 
 Theoph. Thou art no twin to him that last 
 was here. 
 
THE VIRGIN-MARTYR. 
 
 Ye Powers, whom my soul bids me reverence, 
 
 guard me ! 
 What art thou? 
 
 Harp. I am thy master. 
 
 Theoph. Mine ! 
 
 Harp. And thou my everlasting slave : 
 
 that Harpax, 
 
 Who hand in hand hath led thee to thy hell, 
 Am I. 
 
 Theoph. Avaunt ! 
 
 Harp. I will not ; cast thou down 
 That basket with the things in 't, and fetch up 
 What thou hast swallow'd and then take a 
 
 drink, 
 Which I shall give thee, and I'm gone. 
 
 Theoph. My fruit ! 
 Does this offend thee ! see ! \_Eats again. 
 
 Harp. Spit it to the earth, 
 And tread upon it, or I'll piecemeal tear thee. 
 Theoph. Art thou with this affrighted? 
 see, here's more. 
 
 [Pulls out a handful of flowers. 
 Harp. Fling them away. I'll take thee 
 
 else, and hang thee 
 In a contorted chain of icicles, 
 In the frigid zone : down with them ! 
 
 Theoph. At the bottom 
 One thing I found not yet. See ! 
 
 [Holds up a cross of flowers. 
 Harp. Oh ! 1 am tortured. 
 Theoph. Can this do 't? hence, thou fiend 
 
 infernal, hence ! 
 Harp. Clasp Jupiter's image, and away 
 
 with that. 
 Theoph. At thee I'll fling that Jupiter ; for 
 
 methinks, 
 
 I serve a better master : he now checks me 
 For murdering my two daughters, put on by 
 
 thee, 
 
 By thy damned rhetoric did I hunt the life 
 Of Dorothea, the holy virgin-martyr. 
 She is not angry with the axe, nor me, 
 But sends these presents to me ; and I'll 
 
 travel 
 O'er worlds to find, and from her white 
 
 hand 
 Beg a forgiveness. 
 
 Harp. No ; I'll bind thee here. 
 
 Theoph. I serve a strength above thine ; 
 
 this small weapon, 
 Methinks, is armour hard enough. 
 Harp. Keep from me. 
 
 [Sinks a little. 
 Theoph. Art posting to thy centre? down, 
 
 hell-hound! down! 
 
 Me thou hast lost. That arm, which hurls 
 thee hence, [Harpax disappears. 
 
 Save me, and set me up, the strong defence, 
 In the fair Christian's quarrel ! 
 
 Enter Angelo. 
 
 Aug. Fix thy foot there, 
 Nor be thou shaken with a Caesar's voice, 
 Though thousand deaths were in it ; and I 
 
 then 
 
 Will bring thee to a river, that shall wash 
 Thy bloody hands clean and more white than 
 
 snow ; 
 And to that garden where these blest things 
 
 grow, 
 
 And to that martyr'd virgin, who hath sent 
 That heavenly token to thee: spread this 
 
 brave wing, 
 
 And serve, than Coesar, a far greater king. 
 
 [Exit. 
 Theoph. It is, it is, some angel. Vanish 'd 
 
 again ! 
 
 Oh, come back, ravishing boy ! bright mes- 
 senger, 
 Thou hast, by these mine eyes fix'd on thy 
 
 beauty, 
 
 Illumined all my soul. Now look I back 
 On my black tyrannies, which, as they did 
 Outdare the bloodiest, thou, blest spirit, that 
 
 lead'st me, 
 
 Teach me what I must to do, and, to do well, 
 That my last act the best may parallel. [Exit. 
 
 SCENE II. Dioclesian's Palace. 
 Enter Dioclesian, Maximinus, the Kings of 
 Epire, Pontus, and Macedon, meeting 
 Artemia ; Attendants. 
 Artem. Glory and conquest still attend 
 
 upon 
 Triumphant Caesar ! 
 
 Diode. Let thy wish, fair daughter, 
 Be equally divided ; and hereafter 
 Learn thou to know and reverence Maxi- 
 minus, 
 Whose power, with mine united, makes one 
 
 Caesar. 
 Max. But that I fear, 'twould be held 
 
 flattery, 
 
 The bonds consider'd in which we stand tied, 
 As love and empire, I should say, till now 
 I ne'er had seen a lady I thought worthy 
 To be my mistress. 
 
 Artem. Sir, you shew yourself 
 Both courtier and soldier ; but take heed, 
 Take heed, my lord, though my dull-pointed 
 
 beauty, 
 
 Stain 'd by a harsh refusal in my servant, 
 Cannot dart forth such beams as may inflame 
 
 you, 
 
 You may encounter such a powerful one, 
 That with apleasing heat will thawyour heart, 
 Though bound in ribs of ice. Love still is 
 Love 
 
3- 
 
 THE VIRGIN-MARTYR. 
 
 His bow and arrows are the same : Great 
 
 Julius, 
 
 That to his successors left the name of Caesar, 
 Whom war could never tame, that with dry 
 
 eyes 
 
 ! Beheld the large plains of Pharsalia cover'd 
 With the dead carcasses of senators, 
 ! And citizens of Rome, when the world knew 
 No other lord but him, struck deep in years 
 
 too, 
 (And men gray-hair'd forget the lusts of 
 
 youth, ) 
 
 After all this, meeting fair Cleopatra, 
 A suppliant too, the magic of her eye, 
 Even in his pride of conquest, took him 
 
 captive : 
 Xor are you more secure. 
 
 Max-. Were you deform'd, 
 (But, by the gods, you are most excellent,) 
 Your gravity and discretion would o'ercome 
 
 me ; 
 
 And I should be more proud in being prisoner 
 To your fair virtues, than of all the honours, 
 Wealth, title, empire, that my sword hath 
 
 purchased. 
 Diode. This meets my wishes. Welcome 
 
 it, Artemia, 
 
 With outstretch'd arms, and study to forget 
 That Antoninus ever was : thy fate 
 Reserved thec for this better choice ; em- 
 brace it. 
 Max:. This happy match brings new 
 
 nerves to give strength 
 To our continued league. 
 Diode. Hymen himself 
 Will bless this marriage, which we'll solemnize 
 In the presence of these kings. 
 
 A', of Pontus. Who rest most happy, 
 To be eyewitnesses of a match that brings 
 Peace to the empire. 
 
 Diode. We much thank your loves : 
 But where's Sapritius, our governor, 
 And our most zealous provost, good Theo- 
 
 philus ! 
 
 , If ever prince were blest in a true sen-ant, 
 ; Or could the gods be debtors to a man, 
 Both they and we stand far engaged to cherish 
 His piety and service. 
 
 Artem. Sir, the governor 
 , Brookssadlyhisson's loss, although he turn'd 
 i Apostata in death ; but bold Theophilus, 
 : Who for the same cause, in my presence, 
 
 seal'd 
 
 His holy anger on his daughters' hearts ; 
 Havingwith tortures first tried to convert her, 
 Dragg'd the bewitching Christian to the 
 
 scaffold, 
 
 j And saw her lose her head. 
 Diode. He is all worthy : 
 
 And from his own mouth I would gladly hear 
 The manner how she suffer 'd. 
 Artem. 'Twill be deliver'd 
 With such contempt and scorn, (I know his 
 
 nature, ) 
 That rather 'twill beget your highness' 
 
 laughter, 
 Than the least pity. 
 
 Diode. To. that end I would hear it. 
 
 Enter Theophilus, Sapritius, and Macrinus. 
 
 Artem. He comes: with him the governor. 
 Diode. O, Sapritius, 
 I am to chide you for your tenderness ; 
 But yet, remembering that you are a father, 
 I will forget it. Good Theophilus, 
 I'll speak with you anon. Nearer, your ear. 
 [To Sapritius. 
 
 Thcoph. {Aside to Macrinus.] By An- 
 toninus' soul, I do conjure you, 
 And though notfor religion, forhis friendship, 
 Without demanding what's the cause that 
 
 moves me, 
 
 Receive my signet : By the power of this, 
 Go to my prisons, and release all Christians, 
 That are in fetters there by my command. 
 Mac. But what shall follow? 
 Theoph. Haste then to the port ; 
 You there shall find twotallshipsreadyrigg'd, 
 In which embark the poor distressed souls, 
 And bear them from the reach of tyranny. 
 Enquire not whither you are bound : the 
 
 Deity 
 That they adore will give you prosperous 
 
 winds, 
 And make your voyage such, and largely 
 
 pay for 
 Your hazard, and your travail. Leave me 
 
 here ; 
 
 There is a scene that I must act alone : 
 Haste, good Macrinus ; and the great God 
 
 guide you ! 
 Mac. I'll undertake it ; there's something 
 
 prompts me to it ; 
 
 Tis to save innocent blood, a saint-like act : 
 And to be merciful has never been 
 By moral men themselves esteem 'd a sin. 
 
 {Exit. 
 
 Diode. You know your charge ? 
 Sap. And will with care observe it. 
 Diode. For I profess he is not Caesar's 
 
 friend, 
 
 That sheds a tear for any torture that 
 A Christian suffers. Welcome, my best 
 
 servant, 
 
 My careful, zealous provost ! thou hast toil'd 
 To satisfy my will, though in extremes : 
 I love thee for 't ; thou art firm rock, no 
 changeling. 
 
THE VIRGIN-MARTYR. 
 
 33' 
 
 Prithee deliver, and for my sake do it, 
 Without excess of bitterness, or scoffs, 
 Before my 'brother and these kings, how took 
 The Christian her death ? 
 
 Theoph. And such a presence, 
 Though every private head in this large 
 
 room 
 
 Were circled round with an imperial crown, 
 Her story will deserve, it is so full 
 Of excellence and wonder. 
 Diode. Ha! how is this? 
 Theoph. O ! mark it, therefore, and with 
 
 that attention, 
 
 As you would hear an embassy from heaven 
 By a wing'd legate ; for the truth deliver'd, 
 Both how, and what, this blessed virgin 
 
 suffer' d, 
 
 And Dorothea but hereafter named, 
 You will rise up with reverence, and no more, 
 As things unworthy of your thoughts, re- 
 member 
 
 What the canonized Spartan ladies were, 
 Which lying Greece so boasts of. Your 
 
 own matrons, 
 Your Roman dames, whose figures you yet 
 
 keep 
 
 As holy relics, in her history 
 W r ill find a second urn : Gracchus' Cornelia, 
 Paulina, that in death desired to follow 
 Her husband Seneca, nor Brutus' Portia, 
 That swallow'd burning coals to overtake 
 
 him, 
 Though all their several worths were given 
 
 to one, 
 
 With this is to be mention'd. 
 Max. Is he mad? 
 Diode. Why, they did die, Theophilus, 
 
 and boldly ; 
 This did no more. 
 
 Theoph. They, out of desperation, 
 Or for vain glory of an after-name, 
 Parted with life : this had not mutinous sons, 
 As the rash Gracchi were ; nor was this saint 
 A doating mother, as Cornelia was. 
 This lost no husband, in whose overthrow 
 Her wealth and honour sunk; no fear of 
 
 want 
 
 Did make her being tedious ; but, aiming 
 At an immortal crown, and in His cause 
 Who only can bestow it ; who sent down 
 Legions of ministering angels to bear up 
 Her spotless soul to heaven , who en tertain 'd it 
 With choice celestial music, equal to 
 The motionof the spheres ; she, uncompell'd, 
 Changed this life for a better. My lord 
 
 Sapritius, 
 You were present at her death ; did you e'er 
 
 hear 
 Such ravishing sounds? 
 
 Sap. Yet you said then 'twas witchcraft. 
 And devilish illusions. 
 
 Theoph. I then heard it 
 With sinful ears, and belch'd out blasphe- 
 mous words 
 
 Against his Deity, which then I knew not, . 
 Nor did believe in him. 
 Diode. Why, dost thou now? 
 
 Or dar'st thou, in our hearing 
 
 Theoph. Were my voice 
 As loud as is His thunder, to be heard 
 Through all the world, all potentates oir 
 
 earth 
 Ready to burst with rage, should they but 
 
 hear it ; 
 Though hell, to aid their malice, lent her 
 
 furies, 
 Yet I would speak, and speak again, and 
 
 boldly, 
 
 I am a Christian, and the Powers you wor- 
 ship, 
 
 But dreams of fools and madmen. 
 Max. Lay hands on him. 
 Diode. Thou twice a child ! for doating 
 
 age so makes thee, 
 
 Thou couldst not else, thy pilgrimage of lift: 
 Being almost past through, in this last ma- 
 
 ment 
 Destroy whate'er thou hast done good or 
 
 great. 
 Thy youth did promise much ; and, grown a 
 
 man, 
 Thou mad'st it good, and, with increase of 
 
 years, 
 
 Thy actions still better 'd : as the sun, 
 Thou did'st rise gloriously, kept'st a constant 
 
 course 
 
 In all thy journey ; and now, in the evening, 
 When thou should 'st pass with honour to thy 
 
 rest, 
 Wilt thou fall like a meteor ? 
 
 Sap. Yet confess 
 That thou art mad, and that thy tongue and 
 
 heart 
 Had no agreement. 
 
 Max. Do ; no way is left, else, 
 To save thy life, Theophilus. 
 
 Diode. But, refuse it, 
 Destruction as horrid, and as sudden, 
 Shall fall upon thee, as if hell stood open. 
 And thou wert sinking thither. 
 
 Theoph. Hear me, yet ; 
 Hear, for my service past. 
 Artem. What will he say ? 
 Theoph. As ever I deserved your favour, 
 
 hear me, 
 And grant one boon ; 'tis not for life I sue 
 
 for; 
 
 Nor is it fit that I, that ne'er knew pity 
 
 n 
 
34 
 
 THE VIRGIN-MARTYR. 
 
 To any Christian, being one myself, 
 Should look for any : no, I rather beg 
 The utmost of your cruelty. I stand 
 Accomptable for thousand Christians 'deaths ; 
 And, were it possible that I could die 
 A day for every one, then live again 
 To be again tormented, 'twere to me 
 An easy penance, and I should pass through 
 A gentle cleansing fire ; but, that denied me, 
 It being beyond the strength of feeble nature, 
 My suit is, you would have no pity on me. 
 In mine own house there are a thousand 
 
 engines 
 
 Of studied cruelty, which I did prepare 
 For miserable Christians ; let me feel, 
 As the Sicilian did his brazen bull, 
 The horrid'st you can find ; and I will say, 
 In death, that you are merciful. 
 
 Diucle. Despair not ; 
 
 In this thou shalt prevail. Go fetch them 
 
 hither : [Exit some of the Guard. 
 
 Death shall put on a thousand shapes at once, 
 
 And so appear before thee ; racks, and 
 
 whips ! 
 
 Thy flesh, with burning pincers torn, shall 
 
 feed 
 
 The fire that heats them ; and what's want- 
 ing to 
 
 The torture of thy body, I'll supply 
 In punishing thy mind. Fetch all the 
 
 Christians 
 
 That are in hold ; and here, before his face, 
 Cut them in pieces. 
 
 Theoph. Tis not in thy power : 
 It was the first good deed I ever did. 
 They are removed out of thy reach ; howe'er, 
 I was determined for my sins to die, 
 I first took order for their liberty ; 
 And still I dare thy worst. 
 
 Re-enter Guard with racks and other instru- 
 ments of torture. 
 
 Diode. Bind him, I say ; 
 
 Make every artery and sinew crack : 
 
 The slave that makes him give the loudest 
 shriek, 
 
 Shall have ten thousand drachmas : wretch ! 
 I'll force thee 
 
 To curse the Power thou worship'st. 
 Theoph. Never, never : 
 
 No breath of mine shall e'er be spent on Him, 
 [They torment him. 
 
 But what shall speak His majesty or mercy. 
 
 I'm honour "d in my sufferings. Weak tor- 
 mentors, 
 
 More tortures, more : alas ! you are un- 
 skilful 
 
 For heaven's sake more ; my breast is yet 
 untom : 
 
 Here purchase the reward that was pro- 
 pounded. 
 The irons cool, here are arms yet, and 
 
 thighs ; 
 Spare no part of me. 
 
 Max. He endures beyond 
 The sufferance of a man. 
 
 Sap. No sigh nor groan, 
 
 To witness he hath feeling. 
 
 Diode. Harder, villains ! 
 
 Enter Harpax. 
 Harp. Unless that he blaspheme, he's lost 
 
 for ever. 
 
 If torments ever could bring forth despair, 
 Let these compel him to it : Oh me ! 
 My ancient enemies again ! [Falls down. 
 
 Enter Dorothea in a white robe, a crown 
 upon her head, led in by Angelo ; Anto- 
 ninus, Calista, and Christeta following, 
 all in white, but less glorious ; Angelo 
 holds out a crown to Theophilus. 
 
 Theoph. Most glorious vision ! 
 Did e'er so hard a bed yield man a dream 
 So heavenly as this ? I am confirm'd, 
 Confirm'd, you blessed spirits, and make 
 
 haste 
 
 To take that crown of immortality 
 You offer to me. Death ! till ' this blest 
 
 minute, 
 
 I never thought thee slow-paced ; nor would I 
 Hasten thee now, for any pain I suffer, 
 But that thou keep'st me from a glorious 
 
 wreath, 
 Which through this stormy way I would 
 
 creep to, 
 
 And, humbly kneeling, with humility wear it. 
 Oh ! now I feel thee : blessed spirits ! I 
 
 come ; 
 And, witness for me all these wounds and 
 
 scars, 
 
 I die a soldier in the Christian wars. {Dies. 
 Sap. I have seen thousands tortured, but 
 
 ne'er yet. 
 A constancy like this. 
 
 Harp. I am twice damn'd. 
 
 Ang. Haste to thyplace appointed, cursed 
 
 fiend ! 
 
 [Harpax sinks with thunder and lightning. 
 
 In spite of hell, this soldier's not thy prey ; 
 
 Tis I have won, thou that hast lost the day. 
 
 [Exit with Dor. &>e. 
 
 Diode. I think the centre of the earth be 
 
 crack 'd 
 
 Yet I stand still unmoved, and will go on : 
 The persecution that is here begun, 
 Through all the world with violence shall 
 
 run. [Flourish. Exeunt. 
 
The Unnatural Combat. 
 
 DRAMATIS PERSONS. 
 
 Beaufort senior, governor 0/" Marseilles. 
 
 Beaufort junior, his son, 
 
 Malefort senior, admiral of Marseilles. 
 
 Malefort /;zz<?r, his son. 
 
 Chamont, 1 
 
 Montaigne, > assistants to the governor. 
 
 Lanour, j 
 
 Montreville, a pretended friend to Malefort 
 
 senior. 
 Belgarde, a poor captain. 
 
 Three Sea Captains, of the navy of Malefort 
 
 junior. 
 A Steward. 
 An Usher. 
 A Page. 
 
 Theocrine, daughter to Malefort senior. 
 Two Waiting-women. 
 Two Courtesans. 
 A Bawd. 
 Servants and Soldiers. 
 
 SCENE, Marseilles. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 SCENE I. A Hall in the Court of Justice. 
 Enter Montreville, Theocrine, Usher, Page, 
 
 and Waiting-women. 
 Montr. Now to be modest, madam, when 
 
 you are 
 
 A suitor for your father, would appear 
 Coarser than boldness ; you awhile must 
 
 part with 
 
 Soft silence, and the blushings of a virgin : 
 Though I must grant, did not this cause 
 
 command it, 
 
 They are rich jewels you have ever worn 
 To all men's admiration. In this age, 
 If, by our own forced importunity, 
 Or others purchased intercession, or 
 Corrupting bribes, we can make our ap- 
 proaches 
 
 To justice, guarded from us by stern power, 
 We bless the means and industry. 
 
 Ush. Here's music 
 In this bag shall wake her, though she had 
 
 drunk opium, 
 
 Or eaten mandrakes. Let commanders talk 
 Of cannons to make breaches, give but fire 
 To this petard, it shall blow open, madam, 
 The iron doors of a judge, and make you 
 
 entrance ; 
 When they (let them do what they can) with 
 
 all 
 
 Their mines, their culverins, and basiliscos, 
 Shall cool their feet without ; this being the 
 
 picklock 
 That never fails. 
 
 Montr. 'Tis true, gold can do much, 
 But beauty more. Were I the governor, 
 
 Though the admiral, your father, stood con- 
 victed 
 
 Of what he's only doubted, half a dozen 
 Of sweet close kisses from these cherry lips, 
 With some short active conference in private, 
 Should sign his general pardon. 
 Theoc. These light words, sir, 
 Do ill become the weight of my sad fortune ; 
 And I much wonder, you, that do profess 
 Yourself to be my father's bosom friend, 
 Can raise mirth from his misery. 
 
 Montr. You mistake me ; 
 I share in his calamity, and only 
 Deliver my thoughts freely, what I should do 
 For such a rare petitioner : and if 
 You'll follow the directions I prescribe, 
 With my best judgment I'll mark out the 
 
 way 
 For his enlargement. 
 
 Theoc. With all real joy 
 I shall put what you counsel into act, 
 Provided it be honest. 
 
 Montr. Honesty 
 
 In a fair she client (trust to my experience) 
 Seldom or never prospers ; the world's wicked. 
 We are men, not saints, sweet lady ; you 
 
 must practise 
 
 The manners of the time, if you intend 
 To have favour from it : do not deceive 
 
 yourself, 
 
 By building too much on the false foundations 
 Of chastity and virtue. Bid your waiters 
 Stand further off, and I'll come nearer to 
 you. 
 
 1 Worn. Some wicked counsel, on my life. 
 
 2 Worn. Ne'er doubt it, 
 If it proceed from him. 
 
 D 2 
 
THE UNNATURAL COMBAT. 
 
 Page. I wonder that 
 My lord so much affects him. 
 
 Ush. Thou'rt a child, 
 
 And dost not understand on what strong basis 
 This friendship's raised between this Montre- 
 
 ville 
 And our lord, Monsieur Malefort ; but I'll 
 
 teach thee : 
 
 From thy years they have been joint pur- 
 chasers 
 
 In fire and waterworks, and truck'd together. 
 Page. In fire and water works ! 
 Ush. Commodities, boy, 
 Which you may know hereafter. 
 
 Page. And deal in them, 
 When the trade has given you over, as ap- 
 pears by 
 The increase of your high forehead. 
 
 Ush. Here's a crack ! 
 I think they suck this knowledge in their 
 
 milk. 
 
 Page. I had an ignorant nurse else. I 
 have tied, sir, 
 
 My lady's garter, and can guess 
 
 'Ush. Peace, infant ; 
 
 Tales out of school ! take heed, you will be 
 breech 'd else. 
 
 1 \Vorn. My lady's colour changes. 
 
 2 Worn. She falls off too. 
 
 Theoc. You are a naughty man, indeed you 
 
 are ; 
 
 And I will sooner perish with my father, 
 Than at this price redeem him. 
 Montr. Take your own way, 
 Your modest, legal way : 'tis not your veil, 
 Nor mourning habit, nor these creatures 
 
 taught 
 To howl, and cry, when you begin to 
 
 whimper ; 
 
 Nor following my lord's coach in the dirt, 
 Nor that which you rely upon, a bribe, 
 Will do it, when there's something he likes 
 
 better. 
 
 These courses in an old crone of threescore, 
 That had seven years together tired the court 
 With tedious petitions, and clamours, 
 For the recovery of a straggling husband, 
 To pay, forsooth, the duties of one to her ; 
 But for a lady of your tempting beauties, 
 Your youth, and ravishing features, to hope 
 
 only 
 
 In such a suit as this is, to gain favour, 
 Without exchange of courtesy you con- 
 ceive me 
 
 Enter Beaufort /#/0r, and Belgarde. 
 
 Were madness at the height. Here's brave 
 
 young Beaufort, 
 The meteor of Marseilles, one that holds 
 
 The governor his father's will and power 
 In more awe than his own ! Come, come, 
 
 advance, 
 Present your bag, cramm'd with crowns of 
 
 the sun ; 
 Do you think he cares for money? he loves 
 
 pleasure. 
 Burn your petition, burn it ; he doats on 
 
 you, 
 
 Upon my knowledge : to his cabinet, do, 
 And he will point you out a certain course. 
 Be the cause right or wrong, to have your 
 
 father 
 Released with much facility. [Exit. 
 
 Theoc. Do you hear ? 
 Take a pander with you. 
 
 Beauf. jun. I tell thee there is neither 
 Employment yet, nor money. 
 Belg. I have commanded, 
 And spent my own means in my country's 
 
 service, 
 In hope to raise a fortune. 
 
 Beauf. jun. Many have hoped so ; 
 But hopes prove seldom certainties with 
 
 soldiers. 
 
 Belg. If no preferment, let me but re- 
 ceive 
 
 My pay that is behind, to set me up 
 A tavern, or a vaulting-house ; while men 
 
 love 
 Or drunkenness, or lechery, they'll ne'er fail 
 
 me : 
 Shall I have that ? 
 
 Beauf. jun. As our prizes are brought in ; 
 Till then you must be patient. 
 
 Belg. In the mean time, 
 How shall I do for clothes? 
 
 Beauf. jun. As most captains do : 
 Philosopher-like, carry all you have about 
 
 you. 
 Belg. But how shall I do, to satisfy colon, 
 
 monsieur? 
 There lies the doubt. 
 
 Beauf. jun. That's easily decided ; 
 My father's table's free for any man 
 That hath borne arms. 
 Belg. And there's good store of meat? 
 Beauf. jun. Never fear that. 
 Belg. I'll seek no other ordinary then, 
 But be his daily guest without invitemem ; 
 And if my stomach hold, I'll feed so heartily. 
 As he shall pay me suddenly, to be quit of 
 
 me. 
 Beauf. jun. 'Tis she. 
 
 Belg. And further 
 
 Beauf. jun. Away, you are troublesome ; 
 
 Designs of more weight 
 
 Belg. Ha ! fair Theocriae. 
 Nay, if a velvet petticoat move in the front* 
 
THE UNNATURAL COMBAT. 
 
 37 
 
 Buff jerkins must to the rear ; I know my 
 
 manners : 
 
 This is, indeed, great business, mine a gew- 
 gaw. 
 I may dance attendance, this must be dis- 
 
 patch'd, 
 
 And suddenly, or all will go to wreck ; 
 Charge her home in the flank, my lord : nay, 
 I am gone, sir. \_Exit. 
 
 Bcauf. fun. {raising Theoc. from her 
 knees.} Nay, pray you, madam, rise, 
 or I'll kneel with you. 
 Page. I would bring you on your knees, 
 
 were I a woman. 
 Bcauf. jun. What is it can deserve so 
 
 poor a name, 
 As a suit to me ? This more than mortal 
 
 form 
 
 Was fash ion'd to command, and not entreat : 
 Your will but known is served. 
 Theoc. Great sir, my father, 
 My brave, deserving father ; but that sor- 
 row 
 
 Forbids the use of speech 
 
 Beauf. jun. I understand you, 
 Without the aids of those interpreters 
 That fall from your fair eyes : I know you 
 
 labour 
 
 The liberty of your father ; at the least, 
 An equal hearing to acquit himself : 
 And, 'tis not to endear my service to you, 
 Though I must add, and pray you with pa- 
 tience hear it, 
 
 Tis hard to be effected, in respect 
 The state's incensed against him : all pre- 
 suming, 
 
 The world of outrages his impious son, 
 Turn'd worse than pirate in his cruelties, 
 Express'd to this poor country, could not be 
 With such ease put in execution, if 
 Your father, of late our great admiral, 
 Held not or correspondence, or connived 
 At his proceedings. 
 
 Theoc. And must he then suffer, 
 His cause unheard ? 
 
 Beauf. jun. As yet it is resolved so, 
 In their determination. But suppose 
 {For I would nourish hope, not kill it, in you) 
 I should divert the torrent of their purpose, 
 And render them, that are implacable, 
 Impartial judges, and riot sway'd with 
 
 spleen ; 
 
 Will you, I dare not say in recompense. 
 For that includes a debt you cannot owe me, 
 But in your liberal bounty, in my suit 
 To you, be gracious ? 
 
 Theoc. You entreat of me, sir, 
 What I should offer to you, with confession 
 That you much undervalue your own worth, 
 
 Should you receive me, since there come with 
 
 you 
 
 Not lustful fires, but fair and lawful flames. 
 But I must be excused, 'tis now no time 
 For me to think of Hymeneal joys. 
 Can he (and pray you, sir, consider it) 
 That gave me life, and faculties to love, 
 Be, as he's now, ready to be devour'd 
 By ravenous wolves, and at that instant, I 
 But entertain a thought of those delights, 
 In which, perhaps, my ardour meets with 
 
 yours ! 
 Duty and piety forbid it, sir. 
 
 Beauf. jun. But this effected, and your 
 
 father free, 
 What is your answer ? 
 
 Theoc. Every minute to me 
 Will be a tedious age, till our embraces 
 Are warrantable to the world. 
 
 Beauf. jun. I urge no more ; 
 Confirm it with a kiss. 
 
 Theoc. [Kissing him.~\ I doubly seal it. 
 
 Ush. This would do better abed, the busi- 
 ness ended : 
 They are the loving'st couple ! 
 
 Enter Beaufort senior, Montaigne, 
 Chamont, and Lanour. 
 
 Beauf. jun. Here comes my father, 
 With the Council of War : deliver your pe- 
 tition, 
 And leave the rest to me. 
 
 [Theoc. offers a paper. 
 Bcauf. sen. I am sorry, lady, 
 Your father's guilt compels your innocence 
 To ask what I in justice must deny. 
 
 Beauf . jun. For my sake, sir, pray you 
 
 receive and read it. 
 
 Beauf. sen. Thou foolish boy ! I can deny 
 thee nothing. 
 
 {Takes the paper from Theoc. 
 Beauf. jun. Thus far we are happy, 
 
 madam : quit the place ; 
 You shall hear how we succeed. 
 Theoc. Goodness reward you ! 
 
 [Exeunt Theocrine, Usher, Page, 
 
 and Women. 
 
 Mont. It is apparent ; and we stay too long 
 To censure Malefort as he deserves. 
 
 [They take their seats. 
 Cham. There is no colo'ur of reason that 
 
 makes for him : 
 Had he discharged the trust committed to 
 
 him, 
 
 With that experience and fidelity 
 He practised heretofore, it could not be 
 Our navy should be block 'd up, and, in our 
 sight, 
 
THE UNNATURAL COMBAT. 
 
 Our goods made prize, our sailors sold for 
 
 slaves, 
 By his prodigious issue. 
 
 Lan. I much grieve, 
 
 After so many brave and high achievements, 
 He should in one ill forfeit all the good 
 He ever did his country. 
 
 Beauf. sen. Well, 'tis granted. 
 
 Beauf. jun. I humbly thank you, sir. 
 
 Beaiif. sen. He shall have hearing, 
 His irons too struck off; bring him before us, 
 But seek no further favour. 
 
 Beauf. jun. Sir, I dare not. [Exit. 
 
 Beauf. sen. Monsieur Chamont, Mon- 
 taigne, Lanour, assistants, 
 By a commission from the most Christian 
 
 king, 
 
 In punishing or freeing Malefort, 
 Our late great admiral : though I know you 
 
 need not 
 
 Instructions from me, how to dispose of 
 Yourselves in this man's trial, that exacts 
 Your clearest judgments, give me leave, with 
 
 favour, 
 
 To offer my opinion. We are to hear him, 
 A little looking back on his fair actions, 
 Loyal, and true demeanour ; not as now 
 By the general voice already he's condemn'd. 
 But if we find, as most believe, he hath held 
 Intelligence with his accursed son, 
 Fallen off from all allegiance, and turn'd 
 (But for what cause we know not) the most 
 
 bloody 
 
 And fatal enemy this country ever 
 Repented to have brought forth ; all com- 
 passion 
 
 [Of his years pass'd over, all consideration] 
 Of what he was, or may be, if now pardon'd ; 
 We sit engaged to censure him with all 
 Extremity and rigour. 
 
 Cham. Your lordship shews us 
 A path which we will tread in. 
 
 Lan. He that leaves 
 To follow, as you lead, will lose himself. 
 
 Mont. I'll not be singular. 
 
 Re-enter Beaufort junior, with Montreville, 
 Malefort senior, Belgarde, and Officers. 
 Beauf. sen. He comes, but with 
 A strange distracted look. 
 
 Malef. sen. Live I once more 
 To see these hands and arms free ! these, 
 
 that often, 
 
 In the most dreadful horror of a fight, 
 Have been as seamarks to teach such as were 
 Seconds in my attempts, to steer between 
 The rocks of too much daring, and pale fear, 
 To reach the port of victory ! when my sword, 
 Advanced thus, to my enemies appear'd 
 
 A hairy comet, threatening death and ruin 
 To such as durst behold it ! These the legs, 
 That, when our ships were grappled, carried 
 
 me 
 
 With such swift motion from deck to deck, 
 As they that saw it, with amazement cried, 
 He does not run, but flies ! 
 
 Mont. He still retains 
 The greatness of his spirit. 
 
 Malef. sen. Now crampt with irons, 
 Hunger, and cold, they hardly do support 
 
 me 
 
 But I forget myself. O, my good lords, 
 That sit there as my judges, to determine 
 Thelife, anddeath of Malefort, where are now 
 Those shouts, those cheerful Ipoks, those loud 
 
 applauses, 
 
 With which, when I rettirn'd loaden with spoil, 
 You entertain'd your admiral? all's forgotten ; 
 And I stand here to give account of that 
 Of which I am as free and innocent 
 As he that never saw the eyes of him, 
 For whom I stand suspected. 
 
 Beauf. sen. Monsieur Malefort, 
 Let not your passion so far transport you, 
 As to believe from any private malice,' 
 Or envy to your person, you are question' d ; 
 Nor do the suppositions want weight, 
 That do invite us to a strong assurance, 
 Your son 
 
 Malef. sen. My shame ! 
 
 Beauf. sen. Pray you, hear with patience, 
 
 never 
 
 Without assistance or sure aids from you, 
 Could, with the pirates of Argiers and Tunis, 
 Even those that you had almost twice de- 
 feated, 
 
 Acquire such credit, as with them to be 
 Made absolute commander ; (pray you ob- 
 serve me ;) 
 If there had not some contract pass'd 
 
 between you, 
 That, when occasion serv'd, you would join 
 
 with them, 
 To the ruin of Marseilles? 
 
 Mont. More, what urged 
 Your son to turn apostata? 
 
 Cham. Had he from 
 The state, or governor, the least neglect, 
 Which envy could interpret for a wrong ? 
 
 Lan. Or, if you slept not in your charge, 
 
 how could 
 
 So many ships as do infest our coast, 
 And have in our own harbour shut our navy, 
 Come in unfought with ? 
 
 Beauf. jun. They put him hardly to it. 
 
 Malef. sen. My lords, with as much 
 
 brevity as I can, 
 I'll answer each particular objection 
 
THE UNNATURAL COMBAT. 
 
 39 
 
 With which you charge me. The main 
 
 ground, on which 
 
 You raise the building of your accusation, 
 Hath reference to my son : should I now 
 
 curse him, 
 
 Or wish, in the agony of my troubled soul, 
 Lightning had found him in his mother's 
 
 womb, 
 You'll say 'tis from the purpose ; and I, 
 
 therefore, 
 
 Betake him to the devil, and so leave him ! 
 Did never loyal father but myself 
 Beget a treacherous issue ? was 't in me, 
 With as much ease to fashion up his mind, 
 As, in his generation, to form, 
 The organs to his body ? Must it follow, 
 
 Because that he is impious, I am false : 
 
 I would not boast my actions, yet 'tis lawful 
 To upbraid my benefits to unthankful men. 
 W r ho sunk the Turkish gallies in the streights, 
 But Malefort? Who rescued the French 
 
 merchants, 
 When they were boarded, and stow'd under 
 
 hatches 
 
 By the pirates of Argiers, when every minute 
 They did expect to be chain 'd to the oar, 
 But your now doubted admiral ? then you 
 
 fill'd 
 
 The air with shouts of joy, and did proclaim, 
 When hope had left them, and grim-look'd 
 
 despair 
 Hover'd with sail-stretch'd wings over their 
 
 heads, 
 
 To me, as to the Neptune of the sea, 
 They owed the restitution of their goods, 
 Their lives, their liberties. O, can it then 
 Be probable, my lords, that he that never 
 Became the master of a pirate's ship, 
 But at the mainyard hung the captain up, 
 And caused the rest to be thrown over- 
 board ; 
 
 Should, after all these proofs of deadly hate, 
 So oft express'd against them, entertain 
 A thought of quarter with them ; but much 
 
 less 
 
 (To the perpetual ruin of my glories) 
 To join with them to lift a wicked arm 
 Against my mother-country, this Marseilles, 
 Which, with my prodigal expense of blood, 
 I have so oft protected ! 
 
 Beauf. sen. What you have done 
 Is granted and applauded ; but yet know 
 This glorious relation of your actions 
 Must not so blind our judgments, as to suffer 
 This most unnatural crime you stand accused 
 
 of, 
 To pass unquestion'd. 
 
 Cham. No ; you must produce 
 Reasons of more validity and weight, 
 
 To plead in your defence, or we shall hardly 
 Conclude you innocent. 
 
 Mont. The large volume of 
 Your former worthy deeds, with your ex- 
 perience, 
 
 Both what and when to do, but makes 
 against you. 
 
 Lan. For had your care and courage been 
 
 the same 
 
 As heretofore, the dangers we are plunged in 
 Had been with ease prevented. 
 
 Malef. sen. What have I 
 Omitted, in the power of flesh and blood, 
 Even in the birth to strangle the designs of 
 This hell-bred wolf, my son? alas ! my lords, 
 I am no god, nor like him could foresee 
 His cruel thoughts, and cursed purposes : 
 Nor would the sun at my command forbear 
 To make his progress to the other world, 
 Affording to us one continued light. 
 Nor could my breath disperse those foggy 
 
 mists, 
 
 Cover'd with which, and darkness of the night, 
 Their navy undiscern'd, without resistance, 
 Beset our harbour ! make not that my fault, 
 Which you in justice must ascribe to fortune-- 
 But if that nor my former acts, nor what 
 I have deliver'd, can prevail with you, 
 To make good my integrity and truth ; 
 Rip up this bosom, and pluck out the heart 
 That hath been ever loyal. 
 
 [A trumpet within. 
 
 Beauf. sen. How ! a trumpet ? 
 Enquire the cause. \Exit Montreville. 
 
 Male/, sen. Thou searcher of men's 
 
 hearts, 
 
 And sure defender of the innocent, 
 (My other crying sins awhile not look'd on) 
 If I in this am guilty, strike me dead, 
 Or by some unexpected means confirm, 
 I am accused unjustly ! [Aside. 
 
 Re-enter Montreville with a Sea Captain. 
 
 Beauf. sen. Speak, the motives 
 That bring thee hither ? 
 
 Capt. From our admiral thus : 
 He does salute you fairly, and desires 
 It may be understood no public hate 
 Hath brought him to Marseilles ; norseekshe 
 The ruin of his country, but aims only 
 To wreak a private wrong : and if from you 
 He may have leave and liberty to decide it 
 In single combat, he'll give up good pledges, 
 If he fall in the trial of his right, 
 We shall weigh anchor, and no more molest 
 This town with hostile arms. 
 
 Beauf. sen. Speak to the man, 
 If in this presence he appear to you, 
 To whom you bring this challenge. 
 
THE UNNATURAL COMBAT. 
 
 Capt. Tistoyou. 
 
 Beauf. sen. His father ! 
 
 Montr. Can it be ? 
 
 Beauf. fun. Strange and prodigious ! 
 
 Malef. sen. Thou seest I stand unmoved : 
 
 were thy voice thunder, 
 It should not shake me ; say, what would 
 
 the viper? 
 Capt. The reverence a father's name may 
 
 challenge, 
 
 And duty of a son no more remember'd, 
 He does defy thee to the death. 
 Malef. sett. Go on. 
 Capt. And with his sword will prove it on 
 
 thy head, 
 
 Thou art a murderer, an atheist ; 
 And that all attributes of men turn'd furies, 
 Cannot express thee : this he will make 
 
 good, 
 If thou dar'st give him meeting. 
 
 Malef. sen. Dare I live ! 
 Dare I, when mountains of my sins o'er- 
 
 whelm me, 
 
 At my last gasp ask for mercy ! How I bless 
 Thy coming, captain ; never man to me 
 Arrived so opportunely ; and thy message, 
 However it may seem to threaten death, 
 Does yield to me a second life in curing 
 My wounded honour. Stand I yet suspected 
 As a confederate with this enemy, 
 Whom of all men, against all ties of nature, 
 He marks out for destruction ! you are just, 
 Immortal Powers, and in this merciful ; 
 And it takes from my sorrow, and my shame 
 For being the father to so bad a son, 
 In that you are pleased to offer up the 
 
 monster 
 
 To my correction. Blush and repent, 
 As you are bound, my honourable lords, 
 Your ill opinions of me. Not great Brutus, 
 The father of the Roman liberty, 
 With more assured constancy beheld 
 His traitor sons, for labouring to call home 
 The banish'd Tarquins, scourged with rods 
 
 to death, 
 
 Than I will shew, when I take back the life 
 This prodigy of mankind received from me. 
 Beauf. sen. We are sorry, monsieur Male- 
 fort, for our error, 
 
 And are much taken with your resolution ; 
 But the disparity of years and strength, 
 Between you and your son, duly consider'd, 
 We would not so expose you. 
 
 Malef. sen. Then you kill me, 
 Under pretence to save me, O my lords, 
 As you love honour, and a wrong'd man's 
 
 'fai'ie, 
 
 Deny me not this fair and noble means 
 To make me right again to all the world. 
 
 Should any other but myself be chosen 
 To punish this apostata with death, 
 You rob a wretched father of a justice 
 That to all after times will be recorded. 
 I wish his strength were centuple, his skill 
 
 equal 
 
 To my experience, that in his fall 
 He may not shame my victory ! I feel 
 The powers and spirits of twenty strong men 
 
 in me. 
 
 Were he with wild fire circled, I undaunted 
 Would make way to him. As you do affect, 
 
 sir, 
 
 My daughter Theocrine ; as you are 
 My true and ancient friend ; as thou art 
 
 valiant ; 
 And as all love a soldier, second me 
 
 [ They all sue to the Governor. 
 In this my just petition. In your looks 
 I see a grant, my lord. 
 
 Beaiif. sen. You shall o'erbear me ; 
 And since you are so confident in your cause, 
 Prepare yo'u for the combat. 
 
 Malef. sen. With more joy 
 Than yet I ever tasted : by the next sun, 
 The disobedient rebel shall hear from me, 
 And so return in safety. \To the Captain.] 
 
 My good lords, 
 
 To all my service. I will die, or purchase 
 Rest to Marseilles ; nor can I make doubt, 
 But his impiety is a potent charm, 
 To edge my sword, and add strength to my 
 
 arm. [Exeunt. 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 SCENE I. An open Space without the 
 
 City. 
 Enter three Sea Captains. 
 
 2 Capt. He did accept the challenge, then ! 
 i Capt. Nay more, 
 
 Was overjoy 'd in 't ; and, as it had been 
 A fair invitement to a solemn feast, 
 And not a combat to conclude with death, 
 He cheerfully embraced it. 
 
 3 Capt. Are the articles 
 Sign'd to on both parts ? 
 
 1 Capt. At the father's suit, 
 
 With much unwillingness the governor 
 Consented to them. 
 
 2 Capt. You are inward with 
 
 Our admiral ; could you yet never learn 
 What the nature of the quarrel is, that 
 
 renders 
 
 The son more than incensed, implacable, 
 Against the father? 
 
 i Capt. Never ; yet I have, 
 As tar as manners would give warrant to it, 
 
THE UNNATURAL COMBAT. 
 
 With my best curiousness of care observed 
 
 him. 
 
 I have sat with him in his cabin a day together, 
 Yet not a syllable exchanged between us. 
 Sigh he did often, as if inward grief 
 And melancholy at that instant would 
 Choke up his vital spirits, and now and then 
 A tear or two, as in derision of 
 The toughness of his rugged temper, would 
 Fall on his hollow cheeks, which but once 
 
 felt, 
 
 A sudden flash of fury did dry up ; 
 And laying then his hand upon his sword, 
 He would murmur, but yet so as I oft heard 
 
 him, 
 
 We shall meet, cruel father, yes, we shall ; 
 When I'll exact, for every womanish drop 
 Of sorrow from these eyes, a strict accompt 
 Of much more from thy heart. 
 
 2 Capt. 'Tis wondrous strange. 
 
 3 Capt. And past, my apprehension. 
 
 1 Capt. Yet what makes 
 
 The miracle greater, when from the maintop 
 A sail's descried, all thoughts that do concern 
 Himself laid by, no lion, pinch'd with 
 
 hunger, 
 
 Rouses himself more fiercely from his den, 
 Than he comes on the deck ; and there how 
 
 wisely 
 
 He gives directions, and how stout he is 
 In his executions, we, to admiration, 
 Have been eyewitnesses : yet he never minds 
 The booty when 'tis made ours ; but as if 
 The danger, in the purchase of the prey, 
 Delighted him much more than the reward, 
 His will made known, he does retire himself 
 To his private contemplation, no joy 
 Express' d by him for victory. 
 
 Enter Malefort/z/w/w. 
 
 2 Capt. Here he comes, 
 
 But with more cheerful looks than ever yet 
 I saw him wear. 
 
 Malef. jun. It was long since resolved on, 
 Nor must I stagger now in't. May the cause, 
 That forces me to this unnatural act 
 Be buried in everlasting silence, 
 And I find rest in death, or my revenge ! 
 To either I stand equal. Pray you, gentle- 
 men, 
 
 Be charitable in your censures of me, 
 And do not entertain a false belief 
 That I am mad, for undertaking that 
 Which must be, when effected, still repented. 
 It adds to my calamity, that I have 
 Discourse and reason, and but too well 
 
 know 
 .1 can nor live, nor end a wretched life, 
 
 But both ways I am impious. Do not, there- 
 fore, 
 
 Ascribe the perturbation of my soul 
 To a servile fear of death : I oft have view'd 
 All kinds of his inevitable darts, 
 Nor are they terrible. Were I condemn'd to 
 
 leap 
 
 From the cloud-cover 'd brows of a steep rock, 
 Into the deep ; or, Curtius like, to fill up, 
 For my country's safety, and an after-name, 
 A bottomless abyss, or charge through fire, 
 It could not so much shake me, as th' en- 
 counter 
 Of this day's single enemy. 
 
 i Capt. If you please, sir, 
 You may shun it, or defer it. 
 
 Malef. jun. Not for the world : 
 Yet two things I entreat you ; the first is, 
 You'll not enquire the difference between 
 Myself and him, which as a father once 
 I honour'd, now my deadliest enemy ; 
 The last is, if I fall, to bear my body 
 Far from this place, and where you please 
 
 inter it. 
 
 I should say more, but by his sudden coming 
 I am cut off. 
 
 Enter Beaufort junior and Montreville, 
 leading in Malefort senior ; Belgarde 
 following, with others. 
 
 Beauf.jun. Let me, sir, have the honour 
 To be your second. 
 
 Montr. With your pardon, sir, 
 I must put in for that, since our tried friend- 
 ship 
 Hath lasted from our infancy. 
 
 Belg. I have served 
 Under your command, and you have seen 
 
 me fight, 
 
 And handsomely, though I say it; and if now, 
 At this downright game, I may but hold 
 
 your cards, 
 I'll not pull down the side. 
 
 Malef. sen. I rest much bound 
 To your so noble offers, and I hope 
 Shall find your pardon, though I now refuse 
 
 them ; 
 For which I'll yield strong reasons, but as 
 
 briefly 
 As the time will give me leave. For me to 
 
 borrow 
 
 (That am supposed the weaker) any aid 
 BYom the assistance of my second's sword, 
 Might write me down in the black list of those 
 That have nor fire nor spirit of their own ; 
 But dare, and do, as they derive their courage 
 From his example, on whose help and valour 
 They wholly do depend. Let this suffice, 
 In my excuse, lor that. Now, if you please, 
 
THE UNNATURAL COMBAT. 
 
 On both parts, to retire to yonder mount, 
 Where you, as in a Roman theatre, 
 May see the bloody difference determined, 
 Your favours meet my wishes. 
 
 Malef. jun. 'Tis approved of 
 By me ; and I command you [ To his Cap- 
 tains.] lead the way, 
 And leave me to my fortune. 
 
 Beauf. jun. I would gladly 
 Be a spectator (since I am denied 
 To be an actor) of each blow and thrust, 
 And punctually observe them. 
 
 Malef. jun. You shall have 
 All you desire ; for in a word or two 
 I must make bold to entertain the time, 
 If he give suffrage to it. 
 
 Malef. sen. Yes, I will ; 
 I'llhearthee, and then kill thee : nay, farewell. 
 
 Malef. jun. Embrace with love on both 
 
 sides, and with us 
 Leave deadly hate and fury. 
 
 Malef. sen. From this place 
 You ne'er shall see both living. 
 
 Belg. What's past help, is 
 Beyond prevention. 
 
 [They embrace on both sides, and take 
 leave severally of the father and 
 son. 
 
 Malef. sen. Now we are alone, sir ; 
 And thou hast liberty to unload the burthen 
 Which thou groan'st under. Speak thy griefs. 
 
 Malef. jun. I shall, sir ; 
 But in a perplex'd form and method, which 
 You only can interpret : Would you had not 
 A guilty knowledge in your bosom, of 
 The language which you force me to deliver, 
 So I were nothing ! As you are my father, 
 I bend my knee, and, uncompell'd, profess 
 My life, and all that's mine, to be your gift ; 
 And that in a son's duty I stand bound 
 To lay this head beneath your feet, and run 
 All desperate hazards for your ease and safety : 
 But this confest on my part, I rise up, 
 And not as with a father, (all respect, 
 Love, fear, and reverence cast off,) but as 
 A wicked man, I thus expostulate with you. 
 Why have you done that which 1 dare not 
 
 speak, 
 
 And in the action changed the humble shape 
 Of my obedience, to rebellious rage, 
 And insolent pride ? and with shut eyes con- 
 
 strain'd me 
 
 To run my bark of honour on a shelf 
 I must not see, nor, if I saw it, shun it? 
 In my wrongs nature suffers, and looks 
 
 backward, 
 
 And mankind trembles to see me pursue 
 What beasts would fly from. For when I 
 
 advance 
 
 This sword, as I must do, against your head, 
 Piety will weep, and filial duty mourn, 
 To see their altars which you built up in me, 
 In amoment razed andruin'd. That you could 
 (From my grieved soul I wish it) but produce, 
 To qualify, not excuse, your deed of horror, 
 One seeming reason, that I might fix here, 
 And move no further ! 
 
 Malef. sen. Have I so far lost 
 A father's power, that I must give account 
 Of my actions to my son? or must I plead 
 As a fearful prisoner at the bar, while he 
 That owes his being to me sits a judge 
 To censure that, which only by myself 
 Ought tobe question'd ? mountains sooner fall 
 Beneath their valleys, and the lofty pine 
 Pay homage to the bramble, or what else is 
 Preposterous in nature, ere my tongue 
 In one short syllable yield satisfaction 
 To any doubt of thine ; nay, though it were 
 A certainty disdaining argument ! 
 Since, though my deeds wore hell's black 
 
 livery, 
 
 To thee they should appear triumphal robes, 
 Set off with glorious honour, thou being bound 
 To see with my eyes, and to hold that reason, 
 That takes or birth or fashion from my will. 
 Malef. jun. This sword divides that slavish 
 
 knot. 
 
 Mate/, sen. It cannot : 
 It cannot, wretch ; and if thou but remember 
 From whom thou hadst this spirit, thou dar'st 
 
 not hope it. 
 Who train'd thee up in arms but I ? Who- 
 
 taught thee 
 
 Men were men only when they durst look down 
 With scorn on death and danger, and 
 
 contemn'd 
 
 All opposition, till plumed Victory 
 Had made her constant stand upon their 
 
 helmets ? 
 
 Under my shield thou hast fought as securely 
 As the young eaglet, cover'd with the wings 
 Of her fierce dam, learns how and where to 
 
 prey. 
 
 All that is manly in thee, I call mine ; 
 But what is weak and womanish, thine own. 
 And what I gave, since thou art proud, un- 
 grateful, 
 
 Presuming to contend with him, to whom 
 Submission is due, I will take from thee. 
 Look, therefore, for extremities, and expect 
 
 not 
 
 I will correct thee as a son, but kill thee 
 As a serpent swollen with poison ; who sur- 
 viving 
 
 A little longer, with infectious breath, 
 Would render all things near him, like itself, 
 Contagious. Nay, now my anger's up, 
 
THE UNNATURAL COMBAT. 
 
 43 
 
 Ten thousand virgins kneeling at my feet, 
 And with one general cry howling for mercy, 
 Shall not redeem thee. 
 
 Male/, jun. Thou incensed Power, 
 Awhile forbear thy thunder ! let me have 
 No aid in my revenge, if from the grave 
 My mother 
 
 Malef. sen. Thou shalt never name her 
 
 more. \Theyfight. 
 
 Beaufort junior, Montreville, Belgarde, and 
 
 the three Sea Captains, appear on the 
 
 Mount. 
 
 Beauf. Jan. They are at it. 
 
 2 Capt. That thrust was put strongly home. 
 
 Montr. But with more strength avoided. 
 
 Belg. Well come in ; 
 
 He has drawn blood of him yet : well done, 
 old cock. 
 
 1 Capt. That was a strange miss. 
 Beauf. jun. That a certain hit. 
 
 [Young Malefort is slain. 
 Belg. He's fallen, the day is ours ! 
 
 2 Capt. The admiral's slain. 
 Montr. The father is victorious ! 
 Belg. Let us haste 
 
 To gratulate his conquest. 
 
 x Capt. We to mourn 
 The fortune of the son. 
 
 Beauf. jun. With utmost speed 
 Acquaint the governor with the good success, 
 That he may entertain, to his full merit, 
 The father of his country's peace and safety. 
 [ They retire. 
 Malef. sen. Were a new life hid in each 
 
 mangled limb, 
 I would search, and find it : and howe'er to 
 
 some 
 
 I may seem cruel thus to tyrannize 
 Upon this senseless flesh, I glory in it. 
 That I have power to be unnatural, 
 Is my security ; die all my fears, 
 And waking jealousies, which have so long 
 Been my tormentors ! there's now no sus- 
 picion : 
 
 A fact, which I alone am conscious of, 
 Can never be discover'd, or the cause 
 That call'd this duel on, I being above 
 All perturbations ; nor is it in 
 The power of fate, again to make me 
 
 wretched. 
 
 Re-enter Beaufort junior, Montreville, Bel- 
 garde, and the three Sea Captains. 
 BeauJ. jun. All honour to the conqueror ! 
 
 who dares tax 
 
 My friend of treachery now ? 
 Be^ . I am very glad, sir, 
 You have sped so well : but I must tell you 
 thus much, 
 
 To put you in mind that a low ebb must 
 
 follow 
 Your high-swoll'n tide of happiness, you 
 
 have purchased 
 This honour at a high price. 
 
 Malef. 'Tis, Belgarde, 
 Above all estimation, and a little 
 To be exalted with it cannot savour 
 Of arrogance. That to this arm and sword 
 Marseille's owes the freedom of her fears, 
 Or that my loyalty, not long since eclipsed, 
 Shines now more bright than ever, are not 
 
 things 
 
 To be lamented : though, indeed, they may 
 Appear too dearly bought, my falling glories 
 Being made up again, and cemented 
 With a son's blood. 'Tis true, he was my son , 
 While he was worthy ; but when he shook off 
 His duty to me, (which my fond indulgence, 
 Upon submission, might perhaps have par- 
 
 don'd,) 
 And grew his country's enemy, I look'd on 
 
 him 
 
 As a stranger to my family, and a traitor 
 Justly proscribed, and he to be rewarded 
 That could bring in his head. I know in this 
 That I am censured rugged, and austere, 
 That will vouchsafe not one sad sigh or tear 
 Upon his slaughter'd body : but I rest 
 Well satisfied in myself, being assured that 
 Extraordinary virtues, when they soar 
 Too high a pitch for common sights to judge 
 
 of, 
 
 Losing their proper splendour, are condemn 'd 
 For most remarkable vices. 
 
 Beauf. jun. 'Tis too true, sir, 
 In the opinion of the multitude ; 
 But for myself, that would be held your 
 
 friend, 
 
 And hope to know you by a nearer name, 
 They are as they deserve, received. 
 
 Malef. My daughter 
 Shall thank you for the favour. 
 
 Beauf. jun. I can wish 
 No happiness beyond it. 
 
 i Capt. Shall we have leave 
 To bear the corpse of our dead admiral, 
 As he enjoin'd us, from this coast? 
 
 Malef. Provided 
 
 The articles agreed on be observed, 
 And you depart hence with it, making oath 
 Never hereafter, but as friends, to touch 
 Upon this shore. 
 
 i Capt. We'll faithfully perform it. 
 
 Malef. Then as you please dispose of it : 
 
 'tis an object 
 That I could wish removed. His sins die 
 
 with him ! 
 So far he has my charity. 
 
44 
 
 THE UNNATURAL COMBAT. 
 
 i Capt. He shall have 
 ! A soldier's funeral. 
 
 \The Captains bear the body off, with 
 
 sad music. 
 Malef. Farewell ! 
 Beauf. jun. These rites 
 Paid to the dead, the conqueror that survives 
 Must reap the harvest of his bloody labour. 
 Sound all loud instruments of joy and 
 
 triumph, 
 
 And with all circumstance and ceremony, 
 Wait on the patron of our liberty, 
 Which he at all parts merits. 
 
 Malef. I am honour'd 
 Beyond my hopes. 
 
 Beauf. jun. 'Tis short of your deserts. 
 Lead on : oh, sir, you must ; you are too 
 modest. [Exeunt with loud music. 
 
 SCENE II. A Room in Malefort's House. 
 
 Enter Theocrine, Page, and Waiting- 
 women. 
 
 Theoc. Talk not of comfort ; I am both 
 
 ways wretched, 
 
 And so distracted with my doubts and fears, 
 I know not where to fix my hopes. My loss 
 Is certain in a father, or a brother, 
 Or both ; such is the cruelty of my fate, 
 And not to be avoided. 
 
 1 'Worn. You must bear it 
 With patience, madam. 
 
 2 Worn. And what's not in you 
 
 To be prevented, should not cause a sorrow 
 Which cannot help it. 
 
 Page. Fear not my brave lord, 
 Your noble father ; righting is to him 
 Familiar as eating. He can teach 
 Our modern duellists how to cleave a button, 
 And in a new way, never yet found out 
 By old Caranza. 
 
 1 Worn. May he be victorious, 
 And punish disobedience in his son ! 
 Whose death, in reason, should at no part 
 
 move you, 
 
 He being but half your brother, and the 
 nearness 
 
 Which that might challenge from you, for- 
 feited 
 
 By his impious purpose to kill him, from 
 whom 
 
 He received life. [A shout within. 
 
 2 Worn. A general shout 
 
 i Worn. Of joy. 
 
 Page. Look up, dear lady ; sad news 
 
 never came 
 Usher'd with loud applause. 
 
 Theoc. I stand prepared 
 To endure the shock of it. 
 
 Enter Usher. 
 Ush. I am out of breath 
 
 With running to deliver first 
 
 Theoc. What? 
 Ush. We are all made. 
 My lord has won the day ; your brother's 
 
 slain ; 
 
 The pirates gone : and by the governor, 
 And states, and all the men of war, he is 
 Brought home in triumph : nay, no musing, 
 
 pay me 
 
 For my good news hereafter. 
 Theoc. Heaven is just ! 
 Ush. Give thanks at leisure ; make all 
 
 haste to meet him. 
 I could wish I were a horse, that I might 
 
 bear you 
 To him upon my back. 
 
 Page. Thou art an ass, 
 And this is a sweet burthen. 
 
 Ush. Peace, you crack-rope ! ^Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE III. A Street. 
 
 Loud music. Enter Montreville, Belgarde, 
 Beaufort senior, Beaufort junior ; Male- 
 fort, followed by Montaigne, Chamont, 
 and Lanour. 
 Beauf. sen. All honours we can give you, 
 
 and rewards, 
 
 Though all that's rich or precious in Mar- 
 seilles 
 Were laid down at your feet, can hold no 
 
 weight 
 
 With your deservings : let me glory in 
 Your action, as if it were mine own'; 
 And have the honour,, with the arms of love, 
 To embrace the great performer of a deed 
 Transcending all this country e'er could 
 
 boast of. 
 
 Mont. Imagine, noble sir, in what we may 
 Express our thankfulness, and rest assured 
 It shall be freely granted. 
 Cham. He's an enemy 
 
 To goodness and to virtue, that dares think 
 There's anything within our power to give, 
 Which you in justice may not boldly chal- 
 lenge. 
 
 Lan. And as your own ; for we will ever be 
 At your devotion. 
 
 Malef. Much honour'd sir, 
 And you, my noble lords, I can say only, 
 The greatness of your favours overwhelms 
 
 me, 
 
 And like too large a sail, for the small bark 
 Of my poor merits, sinks me. That I stand 
 Upright in your opinions, is an honour 
 Exceeding my deserts, I having done 
 Nothing but what in duty I stood bound to : 
 
THE UNNATURAL COMBAT. 
 
 45 
 
 And to expect a recompense were base, 
 Good deeds being ever in themselves re- 
 warded. 
 
 Yet since your liberal bounties tell me that 
 I may, with your allowance, be a suitor, 
 To you, my lord, I am an humble one, 
 And must ask that, which known, I fear you 
 
 will 
 Censure me over bold. 
 
 Beauf. sen. It must be something 
 Of a strange nature, if it find from me 
 Denial or delay. 
 
 Male/. Thus then, my lord, 
 Since you encourage me : you are happy in 
 A worthy son, and all the comfort that 
 Fortune has left me, is one daughter ; now, 
 If it may not appear too much presumption, 
 To seek to match my lowness with your 
 
 height, 
 
 I should desire (and if I may obtain it, 
 I write nil ^lltra to my largest hopes) 
 She may in your opinion be thought worthy 
 To be received into your family, 
 And married to your son : their years are 
 
 equal, 
 
 And their desires, I think, too ; she is not 
 Ignoble, nor my state contemptible, 
 And if you think me worthy your alliance, 
 'Tis all I do aspire to. 
 
 Beauf. jun. You demand 
 That which with all the service of my life 
 I should have labour 'd to obtain from you. 
 
 sir, why are you slow to meet so fair 
 And noble an offer ? can France show a virgin 
 That may be parallel'd with her ? is she not 
 The phoenix of the time, the fairest star 
 
 In the bright sphere of women ? 
 
 Beauf. sen. Be not rapt so : 
 Though I dislike not what is motion'd, yet 
 In what so near concerns me, it is fit 
 
 1 should proceed with judgment. 
 
 Enter Usher, Theocrine, Page, and 
 Waiting-women. 
 
 Beauf. jun. Here she comes : 
 Look on her with impartial eyes, and then 
 Let envy, if it can, name one graced feature 
 In which she is defective. 
 
 Malef. Welcome, girl ! 
 My joy, my comfort, my delight, my all, 
 Why dost thou come to greet my victory 
 In such a sable habit ? This shew'd well 
 When thy father was a prisoner, and sus- 
 pected ; 
 
 But now his faith and loyalty are admired, 
 Rather than doubted, in your outward gar- 
 ments 
 You are to express the joy you feel within: 
 
 Nor should you with more curiousness and 
 
 care 
 
 Pace to the temple to be made a bride, 
 Than now, when all men's eyes are fixl upon 
 
 you, 
 
 You should appear to entertain the honour 
 From me descending to you, and in which 
 You have an equal share. 
 
 Theoc. Heaven has my thanks, 
 With all humility paid for your fair fortune. 
 And so far duty binds me ; yet a little 
 To mourn a brother's loss, however wicked,. 
 The tenderness familiar to our sex 
 May, if you please, excuse. 
 
 Malef. Thou art deceived. 
 He, living, was a blemish to thy beauties, 
 But in his death gives ornament and lustre- 
 To thy perfections, but that they are 
 So exquisitely rare, that they admit not 
 The least addition. Ha ! here's yet a print 
 Of a sad tear on thy cheek ; how it takes 
 
 from 
 
 Our present happiness ! with a father's lips*. 
 A loving father's lips, I'll kiss it off, 
 The cause no more remember'd. 
 
 Theoc. You forget, sir, 
 The presence we are in. 
 
 Malef. 'Tis well consider'd ; 
 And yet, who is the owner of a treasure 
 Above all value, but, without offence, 
 May glory in the glad possession of it ? 
 Nor let it in your excellence beget wonder, 
 Or any here, that looking on the daughter, 
 I feast myself in the imagination 
 Of those sweet pleasures, and allowed de- 
 lights, 
 
 I tasted from the mother, who still lives 
 In this her perfect model ; for she had 
 Such smooth and high-arch'd brows, such 
 
 sparkling eyes, 
 Whose ever)' glance stored Cupid's emptied 
 
 quiver, 
 
 Such ruby lips, and such a lovely bloom, 
 Disdaining all adulterate aids of art, 
 Kept a perpetual spring upon her face, 
 As Death himself lamented, being forced 
 To blast it with his paleness : and if now, 
 Her brightness dimm'd with sorrow, take 
 
 and please you, 
 Think, think, young lord, when she appears 
 
 herself, 
 
 This veil removed, in her own natural pure- 
 ness, 
 
 How far she will transport you. 
 Beauf. jun. Did she need it, 
 The praise which you (and well deserved) 
 
 give to her, 
 
 Must of necessity raise new desires 
 In one indebted more to years ; to me 
 
THE UNNATURAL COMBAT. 
 
 Your words are but as oil pour'd on a fire, 
 That flames already at the height. 
 
 Malef. No more ; 
 
 I do believe you, and let me from you 
 Find so much credit ; when I make her yours, 
 I do possess you of a gift, which I 
 With much unwillingness part from. My 
 
 good lords, 
 
 Forbear your further trouble ; give me leave, 
 For on the sudden I am indisposed, 
 To retire to my own house, and rest : to- 
 morrow, 
 
 As you command me, I will be your guest, 
 And having deck'd my daughter like herself, 
 You shall have further conference. 
 
 Deauf. sen. You are master 
 Of your own will ; but fail not, I'll expect 
 
 you. 
 
 Malef. Nay, I will be excused ; I must 
 part with you. 
 
 [ To young Beaufort and the rest. 
 My dearest Theocrine, give me thy hand, 
 I will support thee. 
 
 Theoc. You gripe it too hard, sir. 
 Malef. Indeed I do, but have no further 
 
 end in it 
 But love and tenderness, such as I may 
 
 challenge, 
 And you must grant. Thou art a sweet 
 
 one ; yes, 
 And to be cherish 'd. 
 
 Theoc. May I still deserve it ! 
 
 \_Exeunt several ways. 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 SCENE I. A Banqueting-room in 
 Beaufort's House. 
 
 Enter Beaufort senior, and Steward. 
 
 Beauf. sen. Have you been careful ? 
 Stew. With my best endeavours. 
 Let them bring stomachs, there's no want 
 
 of meat, sir. 
 
 Portly and curious viands are prepared, 
 To please all kinds of appetites. 
 
 Bemif. sen. 'Tis well. 
 I love a table furnish 'd with full plenty, 
 And store of friends to eat it : but with this 
 
 caution, 
 
 I would not have my house a common inn, 
 For some men that come rather to devour 
 
 me, 
 Than to present their service. At this time, 
 
 too, 
 
 It being a serious and solemn meeting, 
 I must not have my board pester 'd with 
 
 shadows, 
 
 That, under other men's protection, break in 
 Without invitement. 
 
 Stew . W T ith your favour, then, 
 You must double your guard, my lord, for 
 
 on my knowledge, 
 There are some so sharp set, not to be kept 
 
 out 
 
 By a file of musketeers : and 'tis less danger, 
 I'll undertake, to stand at push of pike, 
 W T ith an enemy in a breach, that under- 
 mined too, 
 
 And the cannon playing on it, than to stop 
 One harpy, your perpetual guest, from en- 
 trance, 
 
 When the dresser, the cook's drum, thun- 
 ders, Come on, 
 The service will be lost else ! 
 Beauf. sen. What is he ? 
 Stew. As tall a trencherman, that is most 
 
 certain, 
 
 As e'er demolish 'd pye-fortification 
 As soon as batter'd ; and if the rim of his 
 
 belly 
 
 Were not made up of a much tougher stuff 
 Than his buff jerkin, there were no defence 
 Against the charge of his guts : you needs 
 
 must know him, 
 He's eminent for his eating. 
 Beauf. sen. O, Belgarde ! 
 Stew. The same ; one of the admiral's 
 
 cast captains, 
 Who swear, there being no war, nor hope 
 
 of any, 
 
 The only drilling is to eat devoutly, 
 And to be ever drinking that's allow'd of, 
 But they know not where to get it, there's 
 
 the spite on't. 
 Beauf. sen. The more their misery ; yet, 
 
 if you can, 
 For this day put him off. 
 
 Stew. It is beyond 
 The invention of man. 
 Beauf. sen. No : say this only, 
 
 [ Whispers to him. 
 
 And as from me ; you apprehend me? 
 Stew. Yes, sir. 
 
 Beauf. sen. But it must be done gravely. 
 Stew. Never doubt me, sir. 
 Beauf. sett. We'll dine in the great room, 
 
 but let the music 
 And banquet be prepared here. [Exit. 
 
 Stew. This will make him 
 Lose his dinner at the least, and that will 
 
 vex him. 
 As for the sweetmeats, when they are trod 
 
 under foot, 
 Let him take his share with the pages and 
 
 the lackies, 
 Or scramble in the rushes. 
 
THE UNNATURAL COMBAT. 
 
 17 
 
 Enter Belgarde. 
 
 Belg. 'Tis near twelve ; 
 I keep a watch within me never misses. 
 Save thee, master steward ! 
 
 Stew. You are most welcome, sir. 
 
 Belg. Has thy lord slept well to-night? 
 
 I come to enquire. 
 
 I had a foolish dream, that, against my will, 
 Carried me from my lodging, to learn only 
 How he's disposed. 
 
 Stew. He's in most perfect health, sir. 
 
 Bdg. Let me but see him feed heartily at 
 
 dinner, 
 
 And I'll believe so too ; for from that ever 
 I make a certain judgment. 
 
 Stew. It holds surely 
 In your own constitution. 
 
 Bdg. And in all men's, 
 'Tis the best symptom ; let us lose no time, 
 Delay is dangerous. 
 
 Stew. Troth, sir, if I might, 
 Without offence, deliver what my lord has 
 Committed to my trust, I shall receive it 
 As a special favour. 
 
 Bclg. We'll see it, and discourse, 
 As the proverb says, for health sake, after 
 
 dinner, 
 
 Or rather after supper ; willingly then 
 I'll walk a mile to hear thee. 
 
 Ste^iJ. Nay, good sir, 
 I will be brief and pithy. 
 
 Belg. Prithee be so. 
 
 Stew. He bid me say, of all his guests, 
 
 that he 
 
 Stands most affected to you, for the freedom 
 And plainness of your manners. He ne'er 
 
 observed you 
 
 To twirl a dish about, you did not like of, 
 All being pleasing to you ; or to take 
 A say of venison, or stale fowl, by your 
 
 nose, 
 
 Which is a solecism at another's table ; 
 But by strong eating of them, did confirm 
 They never were delicious to your palate, 
 But when they were mortified, as the Hugonot 
 
 says, 
 
 And so your part grows greater ; nor do you 
 Find fault with the sauce, keen hunger being 
 
 the best, 
 Which ever, to your much praise, you bring 
 
 with you ; 
 
 Nor will you with impertinent relations, 
 Which is a master-piece when meat's before 
 
 you, 
 
 Forget your teeth, to use your nimble tongue, 
 But do the feat you come for. 
 
 B_elg. Be advised, 
 And end your jeering ; for, if you proceed, 
 
 You'll feel, as I can eat I can be angry ; 
 And beating may ensue. 
 
 Stew. I'll take your counsel, 
 And roundly come to the point : jny lord 
 
 much wonders, 
 
 That you, that are a courtier as a soldier, 
 In all things else, and every day can vary 
 Your actions and discourse, continue constant 
 To this one suit. 
 
 Bclg. To one ! 'tis well I have one, 
 Unpawn'd, in these days ; every cast com- 
 mander 
 
 Is not blest with the fortune, I assure you. 
 But why this question ? does this offend him ? 
 Stew. Not much ; but he believes it is the 
 
 reason 
 
 You ne'er presume to sit above the salt ; 
 And therefore, this day, our great admiral, 
 With other states, being invited guests, 
 He does entreat you to appear among them, 
 In some fresh habit. 
 
 Belg. This staff shall not serve 
 To beat the dog off ; these are soldier's gar- 
 ments, 
 
 And so by consequence grow contemptible. 
 Stew, it has stung him. \Aside. 
 
 Belg. I would I were acquainted with the 
 
 players, 
 In charity they might furnish me : but 
 
 there is 
 
 No faith in brokers ; and for believing tailors, 
 They are only to be read of, but not seen ; 
 And sure they are confined to their own hells, 
 And there they live in visible. Well, I must not 
 Befubb'doff thus : pray you, report my service 
 To the lord governor ; I will obey him : 
 And though my wardrobe's poor, rather 
 
 than lose 
 
 His company at this feast, I will put on 
 The richest suit I have, and fill the chair 
 That makes me worthy of. [Exit. 
 
 Stew. We are shut of him, 
 He will be seen no more here : how my 
 
 fellows 
 Will bless me for his absence ! he had 
 
 starved them, 
 Had he staid a little longer. Would he 
 
 could, 
 For his own sake, shift a shirt ! and that's 
 
 the utmost 
 Of his ambition : adieu, good captain. 
 
 [Bxii. 
 
 SCENE II. The same. 
 Enter Beaufort senior, and Beaufort junior. 
 Beauf. sen. 'Tis a strange fondness. 
 Bea~uf. fun. 'Tis beyond example. 
 His resolution to part with his estate, 
 To make her dower the weightier, is nothing ; 
 
4 8 
 
 THE UNNATURAL COMBAT. 
 
 But to observe how curious he is 
 
 In his own person, to add ornament 
 
 To his daughter's ravishing features, is the 
 
 wonder. 
 
 I sent a page of mine in the way of courtship 
 This morning to her, to present my service, 
 From whom I understand all. There he 
 
 found him 
 
 Solicitous in what shape she should appear ; 
 This gown was rich, but the fashion stale ; 
 
 the other 
 Was quaint, and neat, but the stuff not rich 
 
 enough : 
 
 Then does he curse the tailor, and in rage 
 Falls on her shoemaker, for wanting art 
 To express in every circumstance the form 
 Of her most delicate foot ; then sits in council 
 With much deliberation, to find out 
 What tire would best adorn her ; and one 
 
 chosen, 
 
 Varying in his opinion, he tears off, 
 And stamps itunder foot ; then tries asecond, 
 A third, and fourth, and satisfied at length, 
 With much ado, in that, he grows again 
 Perplex'd and troubled where to place her 
 
 jewels, 
 To be most mark'd, and whether she should 
 
 wear 
 
 This diamond on her forehead, or between 
 Her milkwhite paps, disputing on it both 
 
 ways. 
 
 Then taking in his hand a rope of pearl, 
 (The best of France, ) he seriously considers, 
 WTiether he should dispose it on her arm, 
 Or on her neck ; with twenty other trifles, 
 Too tedious to deliver. 
 
 Beauf. sen. I have known him 
 From his first youth, but never yet observed, 
 In all the passages of his life and fortunes, 
 Virtues so mixed with vices : valiant the 
 
 world speaks him, 
 
 But with that, bloody ; liberal in his gifts too, 
 But to maintain his prodigal expense, 
 A fierce extortioner ; an impotent lover 
 Of women for a flash, but, his fires quench'd, 
 Hating as deadly : the truth is, I am not 
 Ambitious of this match ; nor will I cross you 
 In your affections. 
 
 Beauf. jun. I have ever found you 
 (And 'tis my happiness) a loving father. 
 
 \Loud music. 
 
 And careful of my good : by the loud music, 
 As you gave order, for his entertainment, 
 He's come into the house. Two long hours 
 
 since, 
 
 The colonels, commissioners, and captains, 
 To pay him all the rites his worth can 
 
 challenge, 
 Went to wait on him hither. 
 
 Enter Malefort, Montaigne, Chamont, La- 
 nour, Montreville, Theocrine, Usher, 
 Page, and W T aiting-women. 
 
 Beauf. sen. You are most welcome, 
 And what I speak to you, does from my heart 
 Disperse itself to all. 
 
 Malef. You meet, my lord, 
 Your trouble. 
 
 Beauf. sen. Rather, sir, increase of honour. 
 When you are pleased to grace my house. 
 
 Beajcf. jun. The favour 
 Is doubled on my part, most worthy sir, 
 Since your fair daughter, my incomparable 
 
 mistress, 
 Deigns us her presence. 
 
 Malef. View her well, brave Beaufort, 
 But yet at distance ; you hereafter may 
 Make your approaches nearer, when the 
 
 priest 
 
 Hath made it lawful : and were not she mine, 
 I durst aloud proclaim it, Hymen never 
 Put on his saffron-colourd'd'robe, to change 
 A barren virgin name, with more good omens 
 Than at her nuptials. Look on her again, 
 Then tell me if she now appear the same, 
 That she was yesterday. 
 
 Beatif. sen. Being herself, 
 She cannot but be excellent ; these rich 
 And curious dressings, which in others might 
 Cover deformities, from her take lustre, 
 Nor can add to her. 
 
 Malef. You conceive her right, 
 And in your admiration of her sweetness, 
 You only can deserve her. Blush not, girl, 
 Thou art above his praise, or mine ; nor can- 
 Obsequious Flattery, though she should use 
 Her thousand oil'd tongues to advance thy 
 
 worth, 
 Give aught, (for that's impossible,) but take 
 
 from 
 
 Thy more than human graces ; and even then, 
 When she hath spent herself with her best 
 
 strength, 
 
 The wrong she has done thee shall be so- 
 apparent, 
 
 That, losing her own servile shape and name, 
 She will be thought Detraction : but I 
 Forget myself ; and something whispers to me r 
 I have said too much. 
 
 Mont. I know not what to think on't, 
 But there's some mystery in it, which I fear 
 Will be too soon discover 'd. 
 
 Malef. I much wrong 
 Your patience, noble sir, by too much hug- 
 ging 
 
 My proper issue, and, like the foolish crow, 
 Believe my black brood swans. 
 
 Beauf. sen. There needs not, sir, 
 
THE UNNATURAL COMBAT. 
 
 49 
 
 The least excuse for this ; nay, I must have 
 Your arm, you being the master of the feast, 
 And this the mistress. 
 
 Tkeoc. I am any thing 
 That you shall please to make me. 
 
 Deauf. jun. Nay, 'tis yours, 
 Without more compliment. 
 Mont. Your will's a law, sir. 
 
 [Loud music. Exeunt Beaufort se- 
 nior, Malefort, Theocrine, Beau- 
 fort junior, Montaigne, Cha- 
 mont, Lanour, Montreville. 
 Ush. Would I had been born a lord ! 
 i Worn. Or I a lady ! 
 Page. It may be you were both begot in 
 
 court, 
 Though bred up in the city ; for your 
 
 mothers, 
 As I have heard, loved the lobby ; and 
 
 there, nightly, 
 Are seen strange apparitions : and who 
 
 knows 
 
 But that some noble faun, heated with wine, 
 And cloy'd with partridge, had a kind of 
 
 longing 
 
 To trade in sprats ? this needs no exposi- 
 tion : 
 
 But can you yield a reason for your wishes ? 
 Ush. Why, had I been born a lord, I had 
 been no servant. 
 
 1 Worn. And whereas now necessity 
 makes us waiters, 
 
 We had been attended on. 
 
 2 Worn. And might have slept then 
 
 As long as we pleased, and fed when we 
 
 had stomachs, 
 And worn new clothes, nor lived as now. in 
 
 hope 
 Of a cast gown, or petticoat. 
 
 Page. You are fools, 
 
 And ignorant of your happiness. Ere I was 
 Sworn to the pantofle, I have heard my tutor 
 Prove it by logic, that a servant's life 
 Was better than his masters ; and by that 
 I learn'd from him, if that my memory fail 
 
 not, 
 I'll make it good. 
 
 Ush. Proceed, my little wit 
 In dccimo sexto. 
 
 Page. Thus then : From the king 
 To the beggar, by gradation, all are ser- 
 vants ; 
 
 And you must grant, the slavery is less 
 To study to please one, than many. 
 Us/i. True. 
 Page. Well then ; and first to you, sir : 
 
 you complain 
 
 You serve one lord, but your lord serves a 
 thousand, 
 
 Besides his passions, that are his worst 
 
 masters ; 
 You must humour him, and he is bound to 
 
 sooth 
 
 Every grim sir above him : if he frown, 
 For the least neglect you fear to lose your 
 
 place ; 
 
 But if, and with all slavish observation, 
 From the minion's self, to the groom of his 
 
 close-stool, 
 
 He hourly seeks not favour, he is sure 
 To be eased of his office, though perhaps he 
 
 bought it. 
 
 Nay, more ; that high disposer of all such 
 That are subordinate to him, serves and iears 
 The fury of the many-headed monster, 
 The giddy multitude : and as a horse 
 Is still a horse, for all his golden trappings, 
 So your men of purchased titles, at their 
 
 best, are 
 But serving-men in rich liveries. 
 
 Ush. Most rare infant ! 
 Where learnd'st thou this morality ? 
 
 Page. Why, thou dull pate, 
 As I told thee, of my tutor. 
 2 Worn. Now for us, boy. 
 Page. I am cut off : the governor. 
 
 Enter Beaufort senior and Beaufort junior ; 
 
 Servants setting forth a banquet. 
 Beauf. sen. Quick, quick, sirs. 
 See all things perfect. 
 
 Serv. Let the blame be ours else. 
 Beauf. sen. And, as I said, when we are 
 
 at the banquet, 
 
 And high in our cups, for 'tis no feast with- 
 out it, 
 
 Especially among soldiers ; Theocrine 
 Being retired, as that's no place for her, 
 Take you occasion to rise from the table, 
 And lose no opportunity. 
 
 Beauf. jun. "Pis my purpose ; 
 And if I can win her to give her heart, 
 I have a holy man in readiness 
 To join our hands ; for the admiral, her 
 
 father, 
 
 Repents him of his grant to me, and seems 
 So far transported with a strange opinion 
 Of her fair features, that, should we defer it, 
 I think, ere long, he will believe, and 
 
 strongly, 
 
 The dauphin is not worthy of her : I 
 Am much amazed with't. 
 
 Beauf. sen. Nay, dispatch there, fellows. 
 [Exeunt Beaufort senior and Beau- 
 fort junior. 
 Serv. We are ready, when you please. 
 
 Sweet forms, your pardon ! 
 It has been such a busy time, I could not 
 
THE UNNATURAL COMBAT. 
 
 Tender that ceremonious respect 
 
 Which you deserve ; but now, the great 
 
 work ended, 
 
 I will attend the less, and with all care 
 Observe and serve you. 
 
 Page. This is a penn'd speech, 
 And serves as a perpetual preface to 
 A dinner made of fragments. 
 
 Ush. We wait on you. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE III. The same. A Banquet set 
 
 forth. 
 
 Loud music. Enter Beaufort senior, Male - 
 fort, Montaigne, Chamont, Lanour, Beau- 
 fort junior, Montreville, and Servants. 
 Beauf. sen. You are not merry, sir. 
 Malef. Yes, my good lord, 
 You have given us ample means to drown 
 
 all cares : 
 And yet I nourish strange thoughts, which 
 
 I would 
 
 Most willingly destroy. [Aside. 
 
 Beauf. sen. Pray you, take your place. 
 Beauf. jun. And drink a health ; and let 
 
 it be, if you please, 
 To the worthiest of women. Now observe 
 
 him. 
 Malef. Give me the bowl ; since you do 
 
 me the honour, 
 I will begin it. 
 
 Cham. May we know her name, sir? 
 Malef. You shall ; I will not choose a 
 
 foreign queen's, 
 
 Nor yet our own, for that would relish of 
 Tame flattery ; nor do their height of title, 
 Or absolute power, confirm their worth and 
 
 goodness, 
 These being heaven's gifts, and frequently 
 
 conferr'd 
 
 On such as are beneath them ; nor will I 
 Name the king's mistress, howsoever she 
 In his esteem may carry it : but if I, 
 As wine gives liberty, may use my freedom, 
 Not sway'd this way or that, with confidence, 
 (And I will make it good on any equal,) 
 If it must be to her whose outward form 
 Is better'd by the beauty of her mind, 
 She lives not that with justice can pretend 
 An interest to this so sacred health, 
 ; But my fair daughter. He that only doubts it, 
 I do pronounce a villain : this to her, then. 
 
 [Drinks. 
 
 Mont. What may we think of this ? 
 Beauf. sen. It matters not. 
 Lan. For my part, I will sooth him, rather 
 
 than 
 Draw on a quarrel. 
 
 Cluim. It is the safest course ; 
 And one I mean to lollow. 
 
 Beauf. jun. It has gone round, sir. 
 
 [Exit. 
 Malef. Now you have done her right ; if 
 
 there be any 
 
 Worthy to second this, propose it boldly, 
 I am your pledge. 
 
 Beauf. sen. Let's pause here, if you please, 
 And entertain the time with something else. 
 Music there ! in some lofty strain ; the song 
 
 too 
 
 That I gave order for ; the new one, call'd 
 The Soldier's Delight. 
 
 [Music and a Song.. 
 
 Enter Belgarde in armour, a case of 
 carbines by his side. 
 
 Belg. Who stops me now? 
 N Or who dares only say that I appear not 
 In the most rich and glorious habit that 
 Renders a man complete ? What court so- 
 set off 
 
 With state and ceremonious pomp, but, thus 
 Accoutred, I may enter ? Or what feast, 
 Though all the elements at once were- 
 
 ransack'd 
 
 To store it with variety transcending 
 The curiousness and cost on Trajan's birth- 
 day ; 
 
 (Where princes only, and confederate kings, 
 Did sit as guests, served and attended on 
 By the senators of Rome, ) at which a soldier,. 
 In this his natural and proper shape, 
 Might not, and boldly, fill a seat, and by 
 His presence make the great solemnity 
 More honour'd and remarkable? 
 
 Beauf. sen. 'Tis acknowledged ; 
 And this a grace done to me unexpected. 
 Mont. But why in armour ? 
 Malef. What's the mystery? 
 Pray you, reveal that. 
 
 Belg. Soldiers out of action, 
 That very rare ***** 
 
 ***** but, like unbidden guests, 
 Bring their stools with them, for their own 
 
 defence, 
 At court should feed in guantlets ; they may 
 
 have 
 Their fingers cut else : there your carpet 
 
 knights, 
 
 That never charged beyond a mistress' lips, 
 Are still most keen, and valiant. But to you, 
 Whom it does most concern, my lord, I will 
 Address my speech, and, with a soldier's 
 
 freedom, 
 
 In my reproof, return the bitter scoff 
 You threw upon my poverty : you contemn'd 
 My coarser outside, and from that concluded 
 (As by your groom you made me under- 
 stand) 
 
THE UNNATURAL COMBAT. 
 
 I was unworthy to sit at your table, 
 Among these tissues and embroideries, 
 Unless I changed my habit : I have done it, 
 And shew myself in that which I have worn 
 In the heat and fervour of a bloody fight ; 
 And then it was in fashion, not as now, 
 Ridiculous and despised. This hath past 
 
 through 
 
 A wood of pikes, and everyone aim'd at it, 
 Yet scorn 'd to take impression from their 
 
 fury: 
 
 With this, as still you see it, fresh and new, 
 I've charged through fire that would have 
 
 singed your sables, 
 Black fox, and ermines, and changed the 
 
 proud colour 
 
 Of scarlet, though of the right Tyrian die. 
 But now, as if the trappings made the man, 
 Such only are admired that come adorn'd 
 With what's no part of them. This is mine 
 
 own, 
 
 My richest suit, a suit I must not part from, 
 But not regarded now : and yet remember, 
 'Tis we that bring you in the means of feasts, 
 Banquets, and revels, which, when you 
 
 possess, 
 
 With barbarous ingratitude you deny us 
 To be made sharers in the harvest, which 
 Our sweat and industry reap'd, and sow'd 
 
 for you. 
 The silks you wear, we with our blood spin 
 
 for you ; 
 This massy plate, that with the ponderous 
 
 weight 
 Does make your cupboards crack, we (un- 
 
 aff righted 
 
 With tempests, or the long and tedious way, 
 Or dreadful monsters of the deep, that wait 
 With open jaws still ready to devour us,) 
 Fetch from the other world. Let it not then, 
 In after ages, to your shame be spoken, 
 That you, with no relenting eyes, look on 
 Our wants that feed your plenty : or con- 
 sume, 
 
 In prodigal and wanton gifts on drones, 
 The kingdom's treasure, yet detain from us 
 The debt that with the hazard of our lives, 
 We have made you stand engaged for ; or 
 
 force us, 
 
 Against all civil government, in armour 
 To require that, which with all willingness 
 Should be tendered ere demanded. 
 
 Beauf. sen. I commend 
 This wholesome sharpness in you, and 
 
 prefer it 
 
 Before obsequious tameness ; it shews lovely : 
 Nor shall the rain of your good counsel 
 
 tali 
 Upon the barren sands, but spring up fruit, 
 
 Such as you long have wish'd for. And the 
 
 rest 
 
 Of your profession, like you, discontented 
 For want of means, shall, in their present 
 
 payment, 
 Be bound to praise your boldness : and, 
 
 hereafter 
 
 I will take order you shall have no cause, 
 For want of change, to put your armour on, 
 But in the face of an enemy ; not as now, 
 Among your friends. To that which is due 
 
 to you, 
 To furnish you like yourself, of mine own 
 
 bounty 
 I'll add five hundred crowns. 
 
 Cham. I, to my power, 
 Will follow the example. 
 
 Mont. Take this, captain, 
 'Tis all my present store ; but when you 
 
 please, 
 
 Command me further. 
 Lan. I could wish it more. 
 Belg. This is the luckiest jest ever came 
 
 from me. 
 
 Let a soldier use no other scribe to draw 
 The form of his petition. This will speed, 
 When your thrice-humble supplications, 
 With prayers for increase of health and 
 
 honours 
 To their grave lordships, shall, as soon as 
 
 read, 
 
 Be pocketed up, the cause no more re- 
 member 'd : 
 When this dumb rhetoric [Aside.} Well, I, 
 
 have a life, 
 Which I, in thankfulness for your great 
 
 favours, 
 
 My noble lords, when you please to com- 
 mand it, 
 Must never think mine own. Broker, be 
 
 happy, 
 golde 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 These golden birds fly to thee. 
 
 Beauf. sen. You are dull, sir, 
 And seem not to be taken with the passage 
 You saw presented. 
 
 Male/. Passage ! I observed none, 
 My thoughts were elsewhere busied. Ha ! 
 
 she is 
 
 In danger to be lost, to be lost for ever, 
 If speedily I come not to her rescue, 
 For so my genius tells me. 
 
 Montr. What chimeras 
 Work on your fantasy ? 
 
 Male/. Fantasies ! they are truths. 
 Where is my Theocrine ? you have plotted 
 To rob me of my daughter ; bring me to her, 
 Or I'll call down the saints to witness for me, 
 You are inhospitable. 
 
 Beatif. *en. You amaze me. 
 
 B a 
 
S 2 
 
 THE UNNATURAL COMBAT. 
 
 Your daughter's safe, and now exchanging 
 
 courtship 
 With my son, her sen-ant. Why do you hear 
 
 this 
 
 With such distracted looks, since to that end 
 You brought her hither ? 
 
 Malef. Tis confess 'd I did ; 
 But now, pray you, pardon me ; and, if you 
 
 please, 
 
 Ere she delivers up her virgin fort, 
 I would observe what is the art he uses 
 In planting his artillery against it : 
 .She is my only care, nor must she yield, 
 But upon noble terms. 
 
 Beauf. sen. Tis so determined. 
 
 Malef. Yet I am jealous. 
 
 Ment. Overmuch, I fear. 
 "What passions are these ? [Aside. 
 
 Beauf. sen. Come, I will bring you 
 'Where you, with these, if they so please, 
 
 may see 
 The love-scene acted. 
 
 Montr. There is something more 
 Than fatherly love in this. [Aside. 
 
 Mont. We wait upon you. {Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE IV '.Another Room in Beaufort's 
 House. 
 
 Enter Beaufort junior, and Theocrine. 
 
 Beauf. jun. Since then you meet my flames 
 
 with equal ardour, 
 
 As you profess, it is your bounty, mistress, 
 Nor must I call it debt ; yet 'tis your glory, 
 That your excess supplies my want, and 
 
 makes me 
 
 Strong in my weakness, which could never be, 
 But in your good opinion. 
 
 Theoc. You teach me, sir, 
 "What I should say ; since from your sun of 
 
 favour, 
 
 I, like dim Phoebe, in herself obscure, 
 Borrow that light I have. 
 
 Beauf. jun. Which you return 
 With large increase, since that you will o'er- 
 
 come, 
 
 And I dare not contend, were you but pleased 
 ( To make what's yet divided one. 
 
 Theoc. I have 
 
 ; Already in my wishes ; modesty 
 \ Forbids me to speak more. 
 
 Beauf. jun. But what assurance, 
 But still without offence, may I demand, 
 That may secure me that your heart and 
 
 tongue 
 Join to make harmony ? 
 
 Theoc. Choose any, 
 
 Suiting your love, distinguished from lust, 
 To ask, and mine to grant. 
 
 Enter at a distance Beaufort senior, Male- 
 fort, Montreville, and the rest. 
 
 Beauf. sen. Yonder they are. 
 
 Malef. At distance too ! 'tis yet well. 
 
 Beauf. jun. I may take then ' 
 This hand, and with a thousand burning 
 
 kisses, 
 Swear 'tis the anchor to my hopes ? 
 
 Theoc. You may, sir. 
 
 Malef. Somewhat too much. 
 
 Beaiif.jun. And this done, view myself 
 In these true mirrors ? 
 
 Theoc. Ever true to you, sir : 
 And may they lose the ability of sight, 
 When they seek other object ! 
 
 Malef. This is more 
 Than I can give consent to. 
 
 Beauf. jun. And a kiss 
 Thus printed on your lips, will not distaste vou? 
 
 Malef. Her lips! 
 
 Montr. Why, where should he kiss ? are 
 you distracted ? 
 
 Beauf. jun. Then, when this holy man 
 
 hath made it lawful 
 
 [Brings in a Priest. 
 
 Malef. A priest so ready too ! I must 
 break in. 
 
 Beauf. jun. And what's spoke here is re- 
 gister 'd above ; 
 
 I must engross those favours to myself 
 Which are not to be named. 
 
 Theoc. All I can give, 
 But what they are I know not. 
 
 Beauf. jun. I'll instruct you. 
 
 Malef. O how my blood boils ! 
 
 Montr. Pray you, contain yourself ; 
 Methinks his courtship's modest. 
 
 Beauf. jun. Then being mine, 
 And wholly mine, the river of your love 
 To kinsmen and allies, nay, to your father, 
 (Howe'er out of his tenderness he admires 
 
 you,) 
 
 Must in the ocean of your affection 
 To me, be swallow' d up, and want a name, . 
 Compared with what you owe me. 
 
 Theoc. 'Tis most fit, sir. 
 The stronger bond that binds me to you, must 
 Dissolve the weaker. 
 
 Malef. I am ruin'd, if 
 I come not fairly off. 
 
 Beauf. sen. There's nothing wanting 
 But your consent. 
 
 Malef. Some strange invention aid me ! 
 This ! yes, it must be so. [Aside. 
 
 Montr. Why do you stagger, 
 When what you seem'd so much to wish, is 
 
 offer'd, 
 Both parties being agreed too? 
 
UNIVERSITY 
 
 THE UNNATl 
 
 53 
 
 Beaiif. sen. I'll not court 
 A grant from you, nor do I wrong your 
 
 daughter, 
 Though I say my son deserves her. 
 
 Malef. 'Tis far from 
 My humble thoughts to undervalue him 
 I cannot prize too high : for howsoever 
 From my own fond indulgence I have sung 
 Her praises with too prodigal a tongue, 
 That tenderness laid by, I stand confirm'd, 
 All that I' fancied excellent in her, 
 Balanced with what is really his own, 
 Holds weight in no proportion. 
 
 Montr. New turnings ! 
 
 Beauf. *en. Whither tends this? 
 
 Malef. Had you observed, my lord, 
 With what a sweet gradation he woo'd, 
 As I did punctually, you cannot blame her, 
 Though she did listen with a greedy ear 
 To his fair modest offers : but so great 
 A good as then flow'd to her, should have been 
 With more deliberation entertain'd, 
 And not with such haste swallow 'd ; she shall 
 
 first 
 
 Consider seriously what the blessing is, 
 And in what ample manner to give thanks 
 
 for't, 
 
 And then receive it. And though I shall think 
 Short minutes years, till it be perfected, 
 I will defer that which I most desire ; 
 And so must she, till longing expectation, 
 That heightens pleasure, makes her truly 
 
 know 
 Her happiness, and with what outstretch 'd 
 
 arms 
 She must embrace it. 
 
 Beauf. jun. This is curiousness 
 Beyond example. 
 
 Malef. Let it then begin 
 From me : in what's mine own I '11 use my will, 
 And yield no further reason. I lay claim to 
 The liberty of a subject. {Rushes forward 
 
 and seizes Theoc.] Fall not off, 
 But be obedient, or by the hair 
 I'll drag thee home. Censure me as you please, 
 I'll take my own way. O, the inward fires 
 That, wanting vent, consume me ! 
 
 [Exit with Theocrine. 
 
 Montr. Tis most certain 
 He's mad, or worse. 
 
 Beauf. sen. How worse? 
 
 Montr. Nay, there I leave you ; 
 My thoughts are free. 
 
 Beauf. jun. This I foresaw. 
 
 Beaiif. sen. Take comfort, 
 He shall walk in clouds, but I '11 discover him : 
 And he shall find and feel, if he excuse not, 
 And with strong reasons, this gross injury', 
 I can make use of my authority. [Exeunt. 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 SCENE I. A Room in Malefort's House. 
 Enter Malefort. 
 
 What flames are these my wild desires fan- 
 in me? 
 
 The torch that feeds them was not lighted at 
 Thy altars, Cupid : vindicate thyself, 
 And do not own it ; and confirm it rather, 
 That this infernal brand, that turns me 
 
 cinders, 
 
 Was by the snake-hair'd sisters thrown into- 
 My guilty bosom. O that I was ever 
 Accurs'd in having issue ! my son's blood, 
 (That like the poison'd shirt of Hercules 
 Grows to each part about me,) which my hate 
 Forced from him with much willingness, may 
 
 admit 
 
 Some weak defence ; butmymostimpiouslove 
 To my fair daughter Theocrine, none ; 
 Since my affection (rather wicked lust) 
 That does pursue her, is a greater crime 
 Than any detestation, with which 
 I should afflict her innocence. With what 
 
 cunning 
 
 I have betray 'd myself, and did not feel 
 The scorching heat that now with fury rages f 
 W T hy was I tender of her? cover'd with 
 That fond disguise, this mischief stole upon- 
 
 me. 
 
 I thought it no offence to kiss her often, 
 Or twine mine arms about her softer neck, 
 And by false shadows of a father's kindness 
 I long deceived myself : but now the effect 
 Is too apparent. How I strove to be 
 In her opinion held the worthiest man 
 In courtship, form, and ieature ! envying hint 
 That was preferr'd before me ; and yet then 
 My wishes to myself were not discover 'd. 
 But still my fires increased, and with delight 
 I would call her mistress, willingly forgetting 
 The name of daughter, choosing rather she 
 Should style me servant, than, with reverence, 
 
 father : 
 
 Yet, waking, I ne'er cherish 'd obscene hopes, 
 But in my troubled slumbers often thought 
 She was too near to me, and then sleeping 
 
 blush 'd 
 
 At my imagination ; which pass'd, 
 (My eyes being open not condemning it,) 
 I was ravish'd with the pleasure of the dream. 
 Yet, spite of these temptations, I have reason 
 That pleads against them, and commands 
 
 me to 
 
 Extinguish these abominable fires 
 And I will do it ; I will send her;ack 
 To him that loves her lawfully. Within- 
 
 there ! 
 
54 
 
 THE UNNATURAL COMBAT. 
 
 Enter Theocrine. 
 
 Theoc. Sir, did you call ? 
 
 Malef. I look no sooner on her, 
 But all my boasted power of reason leaves me, 
 And passion again usurps her empire. 
 Does none else wait me ? 
 
 Theoc. I am wretched, sir, 
 Should any owe more duty. 
 
 Malef. This is worse 
 Than disobedience ; leave me. 
 
 Theoc. On my knees, sir, 
 As I have ever squared my will by yours, 
 And liked and loath'd with your eyes, I be- 
 seech you 
 
 To teach me what the nature of my fault is, 
 That hath incens'd you ; sure 'tis one of 
 
 weakness 
 
 And not of malice, which your gentler temper, 
 On my submission, 1 hope, will pardon : 
 Which granted by your piety, if that I, 
 Out of the least neglect of mine hereafter, 
 Make you remember it, may I sink ever 
 Under your dread command, sir. 
 
 Malef. O my stars ! 
 Who can but doat on this humility, 
 
 That sweetens Lovely in her tears ! 
 
 The fetters 
 
 That seem'd to lessen in theirweight but now, 
 By this grow heavier on me. [Aside. 
 
 Theoc. Dear sir 
 
 Malef. Peace ! 
 I must not hear thee. 
 
 Theoc. Nor look on me? 
 
 Malef. No, 
 Thy looks and words are charms. 
 
 Theoc. May they have power then 
 To calm the tempest of your wrath ! Alas, 
 
 sir, 
 
 Did I but know in what I give offence, 
 In my repentance I would show my sorrow 
 For what is past, and, in my care hereafter, 
 Kill the occasion, or cease to be : 
 Since life, without your favour, is to me 
 A load I would cast off. 
 
 Malef. O that my heart 
 Were rent in sunder, that I might expire, 
 The cause in my death buried ! yet I know 
 
 not 
 
 With such prevailing oratory 'tis begg'd 
 
 from me, 
 
 That to deny thee would convince me to 
 Have suck'd the milk of tigers ; rise, and I, 
 But in a perplex'd and mysterious method, 
 Will make relation : That which all the world 
 Admires and cries up in thee for perfections, 
 Are to unhappy me foul blemishes, 
 And mulcts in nature. If thou hadst been 
 born 
 
 Deform 'd and crooked in die features of 
 Thy body, as the manners of thy mind ; 
 Moor-lipp'd, fiat-nosed, dim-eyed, and 
 
 beetle-brow'd. 
 
 With a dwarfs stature to a giant's waist ; 
 Sour-breath'd, with claws for fingers on thy 
 
 hands, 
 
 ! Splay-footed, gouty-legg'd, and over all 
 J A loathsome leprosy had spread itself, 
 And made thee shunn'd of human fellow- 
 ships ; 
 I had been blest. 
 
 Theoc. Why, would you wish a monster 
 (For such a one, or worse, you have de- 
 scribed) 
 To call you father? 
 
 Malef. Rather than as now, 
 (Though I had drown'd thee for it in the sea,) 
 Appearing, as thou dost, a new Pandora, 
 With Juno's fair cow-eyes, Minerva's brow, 
 Aurora's blushing cheeks, Hebe's fresh : 
 
 youth, 
 
 Venus' soft paps, with Thetis' silver feet. 
 Theoc. Sir, you have liked and loved 
 
 them, and oft forced, 
 With your hyperboles of praise pour'd on 
 
 them, 
 
 My modesty to a defensive red, 
 Strew'd o'er that paleness, which you then 
 
 were pleased 
 
 To style the purest white. 
 Malef. And in that cup 
 I drank the poison I now feel dispersed 
 Through every vein and artery. WTierefore 
 
 art thou 
 
 So cruel to me ? This thy outward shape 
 Brought a fierce war against me, not to be 
 By flesh and blood resisted : but to leave me 
 No hope of freedom, from the magazine 
 Of thy mind's forces, treacherously thou 
 
 drew'st up 
 
 Auxiliary helps to strengthen that 
 Which was already in itself too potent. 
 Thy beauty gave the first charge, but thy duty, 
 Seconded with thy care and watchful studies 
 To please, and serve my will, in all that might 
 Raise up content in me, like thunder brake 
 
 through 
 
 All opposition ; and, my ranks of reason 
 Disbanded, my victorious passions fell 
 To bloody execution, and compell'd me 
 With willing hands to tie on my own chains, 
 And, with a kind of flattering joy, to glory 
 In my captivity. 
 
 Theoc. I, in' this you speak, sir, 
 Am ignorance itself. 
 
 Malef. And so continue ; 
 For knowledge of the arms thou bear'st 
 against me, 
 
THE UNNATURAL COMBAT. 
 
 55 
 
 Would make thee curse thyself, but yield no 
 
 aids 
 
 For thee to help me : and 'twere cruelty 
 In me to wound that spotless innocence, 
 Howe'er it make me guilty. In a word, 
 Thy plurisy of goodness is thy ill ; 
 Thy virtues vices, and thy humble lowness 
 Far worse than stubborn sullenness and pride ; 
 Thy looks, that ravish all beholders else, 
 As killing as the basilisk's, thy tears, 
 Express'd in sorrow for the much I suffer, 
 A glorious insultation, and no sign 
 Of pity in thee ; and to hear thee speak 
 1 i thy defence, though but in silent action, 
 \ ."ouldmake the hurt, already deeply fester'd, 
 Incurable : and therefore, as thouwouldst not 
 By thy presence raise fresh furies to torment 
 
 me, 
 
 I do conjure thee by a father's power, 
 {And 'tis my curse I dare not think it lawful 
 To sue unto thee in a nearer name, ) 
 Without reply to leave me. 
 
 Theoc. My obedience 
 
 Never learn'd yet to question your commands, 
 But willingly to serve them ; yet I must, 
 Since that your will forbids the knowledge of 
 My fault, lament my fortune. [Exit. 
 
 Malef. O that I 
 
 Have reason to discern the better way, 
 And yet pursue the worse ! When I look 
 
 on her, 
 
 I burn with heat, and in her absence freeze 
 With the cold blasts of jealousy, that another 
 Should e'er taste those delights that are 
 
 denied me ; 
 And which of these afflictions brings less 
 
 torture, 
 
 I hardly can distinguish : Is there then 
 No mean? no ; so my understanding tells me, 
 And that by my cross fates it is determined 
 That I am both ways wretched. 
 
 Enter Usher and Montreville. 
 
 Ush. Yonder he walks, sir, 
 In much vexation : he hath sent my lady, 
 His daughter, weeping in ; but what the 
 
 cause is, 
 Rests yet in supposition. 
 
 Montr. I guess at it, 
 
 But must be further satisfied ; I will sift him 
 In private, therefore quit the room. 
 
 Us/i. I am gone, sir. [Exit. 
 
 Malef. Ha! who disturbs me? Montre- 
 ville ! your pardon. 
 
 Montr. Would you could grant one to 
 
 yourself ! I speak it 
 
 With the assurance of a friend, and yet, 
 Before it be too late, make reparation 
 Of the gross wrong your indiscretion offcr'd 
 
 To the governor and his son; nay, to yourself; 
 For there begins my sorrow. 
 
 Malef. Would I had 
 
 No greater cause to mourn, than their dis- 
 pleasure ! 
 For I dare justify 
 
 Montr. We must not do 
 All that we dare. We're private, friend. I 
 
 observed 
 
 Your alterations with a stricter eye, 
 Perhaps, than others ; and, to lose no time 
 In repetition, your strange demeanour 
 To your sweet daughter. 
 
 Malef. Would you could find out 
 Some other theme to treat of ! 
 
 Montr. None but this ; 
 And this I'll dwell on ; how ridiculous, 
 And subject to construction 
 
 Malef. No more! 
 
 Montr. You made yourself, amazes me, 
 
 and if 
 
 The frequent trials interchanged between us 
 Of love and friendship, be to their desert 
 Esteem'd by you, as they hold weight with me, 
 No inward trouble should be of a shape 
 So horrid to yourself, but that to me 
 You stand bound to discover it, and unlock 
 Your secret'st thoughts ; though the most 
 
 innocent were 
 Loud crying sins. 
 
 Malef. And so, perhaps, they are : 
 And therefore be not curious to learn that 
 Which, known, must make you hate me. 
 
 Montr. Think not so. 
 I am yours in right and wrong ; nor shall you 
 
 find 
 
 A verbal friendship in me, but an active ; 
 And here I vow, I shall no sooner know 
 What the disease is, but, if you give leave, 
 I will apply a remedy. Is it madness ? 
 I am familiarly acquainted with 
 A deep-read man, that can with charms and 
 
 herbs 
 
 Restore you to your reason : or, suppose 
 You are bewitch'd, he with more potent 
 
 spells 
 
 And magical rites shall cure you. Is't 
 heaven's anger? 
 
 With penitence and sacrifice appease it. 
 
 Beyond this, there is nothing that I can 
 Imagine dreadful : in your fame and fortunes 
 You are secure ; your impious son removed 
 
 too, 
 
 That render'd you suspected to the state ; 
 And your fair daughter 
 
 Malef. Oh ! press me no further. 
 
 Montr. Are you wrung there ! Why, 
 
 what of her ? hath she 
 Made shipwreck of her hoiiour, or conspired 
 
THE UNNATURAL COMBAT. 
 
 Against your life ? or seal'd a contract with 
 The devil of hell, for the recovery of 
 Her young Inamorato ? 
 
 Male/. None of these ; 
 And yet, what must increase the wonder 
 
 in you, 
 Being innocent in herself, she hath wounded 
 
 me ; 
 
 But where, enquire not. Yet, I know not how 
 I am persuaded, from my confidence 
 Of your vow'd love to me, to trust you with 
 My dearest secret ; pray you chide me for it, 
 But with a kind of pity, not insulting 
 On my calamity. 
 Montr. Forward. 
 
 Male/. This same daughter 
 
 Monti: What is her fault ? 
 Malef. She is too fair to me. 
 Montr. Ha ! how is this ? 
 Malcf. And I have looked upon her 
 More than a father should, and languish to 
 Enjoy her as a husband. 
 M0nir. Heaven forbid it ! 
 Malef. And this is all the comfort you 
 
 can give me ! 
 Where are your promised aids, your charms, 
 
 your herbs, 
 Your deep-read scholar's spells and magic 
 
 rites ? 
 
 Can all these disenchant me ? No, I must be 
 My own physician, and upon myself 
 Practise a desperate cure. 
 
 Montr. Do not contemn me : 
 Enjoin me what you please, with any hazard 
 I'll undertake it. What means have you 
 
 practised 
 To quench this hellish fire ? 
 
 Malef. All I could think on, 
 But to no purpose ; and yet sometimes 
 
 absence 
 
 Does yield a kind of intermission to 
 The fury of the fit. 
 Montr. See her no more, then. 
 Malef. 'Tis my last refuge ; and 'twas my 
 
 intent, 
 
 And still 'tis, to desire your help. 
 Montr. Command it. 
 Malcf. Thus then : you have a fort, of 
 
 which you are 
 The absolute lord, whither, I pray you, bear 
 
 her : 
 
 And that the sight of her may not again 
 Nourish those flames, which I feel something 
 
 lessen'd, 
 
 By all the ties of friendship I conjure you, 
 And by a solemn oath you must confirm it, 
 That though my now calm'd passions should 
 
 rage higher 
 Than ever heretofore, and so compel me 
 
 Once more to wish to see her ; though I use 
 Persuasions mix'd with threatenings, (nay, 
 
 add to it, 
 That I, this failing, should with hands held 
 
 up thus, 
 Kneel at your feet, and bathe them with my 
 
 tears,) 
 
 Prayers or curses, vows or imprecations, 
 Only to look upon her, though at distance, 
 You still must be obdurate. 
 
 Montr. If it be 
 
 Your pleasure, sir, that I shall be unmoved, 
 I will endeavour. 
 
 Malef. You must swear to be 
 Inexorable, as you would prevent 
 The greatest mischief to your friend, that fate 
 Could throw upon him. 
 
 Montr. Well, I will obey you. 
 But how the governor will be answer'd yet, 
 And 'tis material, is not consider'd. 
 
 Malef. Leave that to me. I'll presently 
 
 give order 
 How you shall surprise her ; be not frighted 
 
 with 
 Her exclamations. 
 
 Montr. Be you constant to 
 Your resolution, I will not fail 
 In what concerns my part. 
 
 Malef. Be ever bless'd for't ! [Exeunt- 
 
 SCENE II. A Street. 
 
 Enter Beaufort junior, Chamont, and 
 Lanour. 
 
 Cham. Not to be spoke with, say you? 
 
 Beaiif. jun. No. 
 
 Lan. Nor you 
 Admitted to have conference with her? 
 
 Beauf. jun. Neither. 
 His doors are fast lock'd up, and solitude 
 Dwells round about them, no access allow'd 
 To friend or enemy ; but 
 
 Cham. Nay, be not moved, sir ; 
 Let his passion work, and, like a hot-rein'd 
 
 horse, 
 'Twill quickly tire itself. 
 
 Beauf. jun. Or in his death, 
 Which, for her sake, till now I have forborn, 
 I will revenge the injury he hath done to 
 My true and lawful love. 
 
 Lan. How does your father, 
 The governor, relish it ? 
 
 Bcauf. jun. Troth, he never had 
 Affection to the mntch ; yet in his pity 
 To me, he's gone in person to his house, 
 Nor will he be denied ; and if he find not 
 Strong and fair reasons, Malefort will hear 
 
 from him 
 In a kind he does not look for. 
 
THE UNNATURAL COMBAT. 
 
 Cham. In the mean time, 
 Pray you put on cheerful looks. 
 
 Enter Montaigne. 
 
 Beauf. jun. Mine suit my fortune. 
 
 Lan. O, here's Montaigne. 
 
 Mont. I never could have met you 
 More opportunely. I'll not stale the jest 
 By my relation ; but if you will look on 
 The malecontent Belgarde, newly rigg'd up, 
 With the train that follows him, 'twill be an 
 
 object 
 "Worthy of your noting. 
 
 Beauf. jnn. Look you the comedy 
 Make good the prologue, or the scorn will 
 
 dwell 
 Upon yourself. 
 
 Mont. I'll hazard that ; observe now. 
 
 Belgarde comes out of his house in a gallant 
 habit ; stays at the door -with his sword 
 drawn. 
 
 Several voices within. Nay, captain ! glo- 
 rious captain ! 
 Belg. Fall back, rascals ! 
 Do you make an owl of me ? this day I will 
 Receive no more petitions. 
 Here are bills of all occasions, and all sizes ! 
 If this be the pleasure of a rich suit, would 
 
 I were 
 
 Again in my buff jerkin, or my armour ! 
 Then I walk'd securely by my creditors' noses, 
 Not a dog mark'd me ; every officer shunn'd 
 
 me, 
 
 And not one lousy prison would receive me : 
 But now, as the ballad says, / am turn'd 
 
 gallant, 
 
 There does not live that thing I owe a sous to, 
 But does torment me. A faithful cobler told 
 
 me, 
 With his awl in his hand, I was behindhand 
 
 with him 
 For setting me upright, and bade me look 
 
 to myself. 
 
 A sempstress too, that traded but in socks, 
 Swore she would set a Serjeant on my back 
 For a borrow'd shirt : my pay, and the 
 
 benevolence 
 The governor and the states bestow'd upon 
 
 me, 
 
 The city cormorants, my money-mongers, 
 Have swallow 'd down already ; they were 
 
 sums, 
 
 I grant, but that I should be such a fool, 
 Against my oath, being a cashier'd captain, 
 To pay debts, though grown up to one and 
 
 twenty, 
 
 Deserves more reprehension, in my judg- 
 ment, 
 
 Than a shopkeeper, or a lawyer that lends 
 
 money, 
 In a long dead vacation. 
 
 Mont. How do you like 
 His meditation ? 
 
 Cham. Peace ! let him proceed. 
 
 Belg. I cannot now go on the score for 
 
 shame, 
 
 And where I shall begin to pawn ay, marry. 
 That is consider'd timely ! I paid for 
 This train of yours, dame Estridge, fourteen 
 
 crowns, 
 
 And yet it is so light, 'twill hardly pass 
 For a tavern reckoning, unless it be, 
 To save the charge of painting, nail'd on a 
 
 post, 
 For the sign of the feathers. Pox upon the 
 
 fashion, 
 
 Thatacaptain cannot thinkhimself acaptain,. 
 If he wear not this, like a fore-horse ! yet it 
 
 is not 
 
 Staple commodity : these are perfumed too- 
 O* the Roman wash, and yet a stale red 
 
 herring 
 Would fill the belly better, and hurt the head 
 
 less: 
 
 And this is Venice gold ; would I had it again 
 In French crowns in my pocket ? O you com- 
 manders, 
 That, like me, have no dead pays, nor can 
 
 cozen 
 
 The commissary at a muster, let me stand 
 For an example to you ! as you would 
 Enjoy your privileges, videlicet, 
 To pay your debts, and take your letchery 
 
 gratis ; 
 
 To have your issue warm'd by others fires ; 
 To be often drunk, and swear, yet pay no 
 
 forfeit 
 To the poor, but when you share with one 
 
 another ; 
 
 With all your other choice immunities : 
 Only of this I seriously advise you, 
 Let courtiers trip like courtiers, and your 
 
 lords 
 Of dirt and dunghills mete their woods and 
 
 acres, 
 
 In velvets, satins, tissues ; but keep you 
 Constant to cloth and shamois. 
 
 Mont. Have you heard 
 Of such a penitent homily ? 
 Belg. I am studying now 
 Where I shall hide myself till the rumour of 
 My wealth and bravery vanish : let me see, 
 There is a kind of vaulting-house not far 
 
 off, 
 
 Where I used to spend my afternoons, among 
 Suburb she-gamesters ; and yet, now I think 
 
 on't, 
 
THE UNNATURAL COMBAT. 
 
 I have crack 'd a ring or two there, which 
 
 they made 
 Others to solder : No 
 
 Enter a Bawd, and two Courtezans, -with 
 two Children. 
 
 1 Court. O ! have we spied you ! 
 Bawd. Upon him without ceremony ! 
 
 ne\v's the time, 
 While he's in the paying vein. 
 
 2 Court. Save you, brave captain ! 
 Beauf. jun. 'Slight, how he stares ! they 
 
 are worse than she-wolves to him. 
 Belg. Shame me not in the streets ; I was 
 coming to you. 
 
 1 Court. O, sir, you may in public pay 
 for the fiddling 
 
 "You had in private. 
 
 2 Court. We hear you are full of crowns, 
 sir. 
 
 1 Court. And therefore, knowing you are 
 open-handed, 
 
 Before all be destroy'd, I'll put you in mind, 
 
 sir, 
 Of your young heir here. 
 
 2 Court. Here's a second, sir, 
 That looks for a child's portion. 
 
 Bawd. There are reckonings 
 For muscadine and eggs too, must be 
 thought on. 
 
 1 Court. We have not been hasty, sir. 
 Bawd. But staid your leisure : 
 
 But now you are ripe, and loaden with 
 fruit 
 
 2 Court. Tis fit you should be pull'd ; 
 here's a boy, sir, 
 
 Pray you, kiss him ; 'tis your own, sir. 
 
 i Court. Nay, buss this first, 
 It hath just your eyes ; and such a pro- 
 mising nose, 
 
 That, if the sign deceive me not, in time 
 'Twill prove a notable striker, like his father. 
 
 Belg. And yet you laid it to another. 
 
 1 Court. True, 
 
 While you were poor ; and it was policy ; 
 
 But she that has variety of fathers, 
 
 And makes not choice of him that can 
 
 maintain it, 
 l^Ie'er studied Aristotle. 
 
 Lan. A smart quean ! 
 
 Belg. Why, braches, will you worry me ? 
 
 2 Court. No, but ease you 
 
 Of your golden burthen ; the heavy carriage 
 
 may 
 Bring you to a sweating sickness. 
 
 Bdg. Very likely ; 
 I foam all o'er already. 
 
 i Court. Will you come off, sir? 
 
 Belg. Would I had ne'er come on ! Hear 
 
 me with patience, 
 
 Or I will anger you. Go to, you know me ; 
 And do not vex me further : by my sins, 
 \nd your diseases, which are certain truths, 
 Whate'er you think, I am not master, at 
 This instant, of a livre. 
 
 2 Court. What, and in 
 Such a glorious suit ! 
 
 Belg. The liker, wretched things, 
 To have no money. 
 
 Bawd. Yoxi may pawn your clothes, sir. 
 
 1 Court, Will you see your issue starve ? 
 
 2 Court. Or the mothers beg ? 
 
 Belg. Why, you unconscionable strumpets, 
 
 would you have me, 
 Transform my hat to double clouts and 
 
 biggins? 
 
 My corslet to a cradle ? or my belt 
 To swaddlebands ? or turn my cloak to 
 
 blankets ? 
 Or to sell my sword and spurs, for soap and 
 
 candles ? 
 
 Have you no mercy? what a chargeable devil 
 We carry in our breeches ! 
 
 Beauf. jun. Now 'tis time 
 To fetch him off. [ They come forward. 
 
 Enter Beaufort senior. 
 
 Mont. Your father does it for us. 
 
 Bawd. The governor ! 
 
 Beauf. sen. What are these? 
 
 i Court. An it like your lordship, 
 Very poor spinsters. 
 
 Bawd. I am his nurse and laundress. 
 
 Belg. You have nurs'd and launder 'd me, 
 
 hell take you for it ! 
 Vanish ! 
 
 Cham. Do, do, and talk with him hereafter. 
 
 1 Court. 'Tis our best course. 
 
 2 Court. We'll find a time to fit him. 
 
 \Exeunt Bawd and Courtezans. 
 
 Beauf. sen. Why in this heat, Belgarde ? 
 
 Bdg. You are the cause of 't. 
 
 Beauf. sen. Who, I? 
 
 Belg. Yes, your pied livery and your gold 
 Draw these vexations on me ; pray you strip 
 
 me, 
 
 And let me be as I was : I will not lose 
 The pleasures and the freedom which I had 
 In my certain poverty, for all the wealth 
 Fair France is proud of. 
 
 Beauf. sen. We at better leisure 
 Will learn the cause of this. 
 
 Beauf. jun. What answer, sir, 
 From the admiral? 
 
 Beauf. sen. None ; his daughter is removed 
 To the fort of Montreville, and he himself 
 In person fled, but where, is not discover'd : 
 
THE UNNATURAL COMBAT. 
 
 59 
 
 I could tell you wonders, but the time denies 
 
 me 
 
 Fit liberty. In a word, let it suffice 
 The power of our great master is contemn'd, 
 The sacred laws of God and man profaned ; 
 And if I sit down with this injury, 
 I am unworthy of my place, and thou 
 Of my acknowledgment : draw up all the 
 
 troops ; 
 
 As I go, I will instruct you to what purpose. 
 .Such as have power to punish, and yet spare, 
 From fear or from connivance, others ill, 
 Though not in act, assist them in their will. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 SCENE I. A Street near 'Malefort's House. 
 Enter Montreville and Servants, with Theo- 
 
 crine, Page, and Waiting-women. 
 Montr. Bind them, and gag their mouths 
 
 sure ; I alone 
 Will be your convoy. 
 
 1 Worn. Madam ! 
 
 2 Worn. Dearest lady ! 
 
 Page. Let me fight for my mistress. 
 
 Serv. 'Tis in vain, 
 Little cockerel of the kind. 
 
 Montr. Away with them, 
 And do as I command you. 
 
 \Exeunt Servants -with Page and 
 Waiting-women. 
 
 Theoc. Montreville, 
 You are my father's friend ; nay more, a 
 
 soldier, 
 
 And if a right one, as I hope to find you, 
 Though in a lawful war you had surprised 
 A city, that bow'd humbly to your pleasure, 
 In honour you stand bound to guard a virgin 
 From violence ; but in a free estate, 
 Of which you are a limb, to do a wrong 
 Which noble enemies never consent to, 
 Is such an insolence 
 
 Montr. How her heart beats ! 
 Much like a partridge in a sparhawk's foot, 
 That with a panting silence does lament 
 The fate she cannot fly from ! Sweet, take 
 
 comfort, 
 
 You are safe, and nothing is intended to you, 
 But love and service. 
 
 Theoc. They came never clothed 
 In force and outrage. Upon what assurance 
 (Remembering only that my father lives, 
 Who will not tamely suffer the disgrace, ) 
 Have you presumed to hurry me from his 
 
 house, 
 
 And, as I were not worth the waiting on, 
 To snatch me from the duty and attendance 
 Oi my poor servants ? 
 
 Montr. Let not that afflict you, 
 You shall not want observance ; I will be 
 Your page, your woman, parasite, or fooL 
 Or any other property, provided 
 You answer my affection. 
 Theoc. In what kind? 
 Montr. As you had done young Beaufort's. 
 Theoc. How ! 
 Montr. So, lady ; 
 
 Or, if the name of wife appear a yoke 
 Too heavy for your tender neck, so I 
 Enjoy you as a private friend or mistress, 
 Twill be sufficient. 
 
 Theoc. Blessed angels guard me ! 
 What frontless impudence is this? what devil 
 Hath, to thy certain ruin, tempted thee 
 To offer me this motion ? by my hopes 
 Of after joys, submission nor repentance 
 Shall expiate this foul intent. 
 
 Montr. Intent ! 
 Tis more, I'll make it act. 
 
 Theoc. Ribald, thou darert not : 
 And if (and with a fever to thy soul) 
 Thou but consider that I have a lather, 
 And such a father, as, when this arrives at 
 His knowledge, as it shall, the terror of 
 His vengeance, which as sure as fate must 
 
 follow, 
 Will make thee curse the hour in which lust 
 
 taught thee 
 To nourish these bad hopes ; and 'tis my 
 
 wonder 
 
 Thou darest forget how tender he is of me, 
 And that each shadow of wrong done to me, 
 Will raise in him a tempest not to be 
 But with thy heart-blood calm'd : this, when 
 
 I see him 
 
 Montr. As thou shalt never. 
 
 Theoc. Wilt thou murder me ? 
 
 Montr. No, no, 'tis otherwise determined, 
 
 fool. 
 
 The master which in passion kills his slave 
 That may be useful to him, does himself 
 The injury: know, thou most wretched 
 
 creature, 
 
 That father thou presumest upon, that father, 
 That, when I sought thee in a noble way, 
 Denied thee to me, fancying in his hope 
 A higher match, from his excess of dotage, 
 Hath in his bowels kindled such a flame 
 Of impious and most unnatural lust, 
 That now he fears his furious desires 
 May force him to do that, he shakes to 
 
 think on. 
 
 Theoc. O me, most wretched ! 
 Montr. Never hope again 
 To blast him with those eyes : their golden 
 
 beams 
 Are unto him arrows of death and hell, 
 
6o 
 
 THE UNNATURAL COMBAT. 
 
 But unto me divine artirery. 
 
 And therefore, since what J so long in vain 
 
 Pursued, is offer'd to me, and by him 
 
 Given up to my possession ; do not flatter 
 
 Thyself with an imaginary hope, 
 
 But that I'll take occasion by the forelock, 
 
 And make use of my fortune. As we walk, 
 
 I'll tell thee more. 
 
 Theoc. I will not stir. 
 
 Montr. I'll force thee. 
 
 Thcoc. Help, help ! 
 
 Montr. In vain. 
 
 Theoc. In me my brother's blood 
 Is punish'd at the height. 
 
 Montr. The coach there ! 
 
 Theoc. Dear sir 
 
 Montr. Tears, curses, prayers, are alike 
 
 to me ; 
 
 I can, and must enjoy my present pleasure, 
 
 And shall take time to mourn for it at leisure. 
 
 [He bears her off. 
 
 SCENE II. A Space before the Fort. 
 
 Enter Malefort. 
 
 I have play'd the fool, thegrossfool, tobelieve 
 The bosom of a friend will hold a secret, 
 Mine own could not con tain ; and my industry 
 In taking liberty from my innocent daughter, 
 Out of false hopes of freedom to myself, 
 Is, in the little help it yields me, punish'd. 
 She's absent, but I have her figure here ; 
 And e% r ery grace and rarity about her, 
 Are by the pencil of my memory, 
 In living colours painted on my heart. 
 My fires too, a short interim closed up, 
 Break out with greater fury. Why was I, 
 Since 'twas my fate, and not to be declined, 
 In this so tender-conscienced ? Say I had 
 Enjoy 'd what 1 desired, what had it been 
 But incest ? and there's something here that 
 
 tells me 
 
 I stand accomptable for greater sins 
 I never check'd at. Neither had the crime 
 Wanted a precedent : I have read in story, 
 Those first great heroes, that, for their brave 
 
 deeds, 
 
 Were in the world's first infancy styled gods, 
 Freely enjoy'd what I denied myself. 
 Old Saturn, in the golden age, embraced 
 His sister Ops, and, in the same degree, 
 The Thunderer Juno, Neptune Thetis, and, 
 By their example, after the first deluge, 
 Deucalion Pyrrha. Universal nature, 
 As every day 'tis evident, allows it 
 To crea'tures of all kinds : the gallant horse 
 Covers the mare to which he was the sire ; 
 The bird with fertile seed gives new increase 
 To her that hatch'd him : why should envious 
 
 man then 
 
 Brand that close act, which adds proximity 
 To what's most near him, with the abhorred 
 
 title 
 
 Of incest? or our later laws forbid, 
 What by the first was granted ? Let old men, 
 That are not capable of these delights, 
 And solemn superstitious fools, prescribe 
 Rules to themselves ; I will not curb my 
 
 freedom, 
 
 But constantly go on, with this assurance, 
 I but walk in a path which greater men 
 Have trod before me. Ha ! this is the fcrt: 
 Open the gate ! Within, there ! 
 
 Enter two Soldiers. 
 
 1 Sold. With your pardon 
 We must forbid your entrance. 
 
 Malef. Do you know me? 
 
 2 Sold. Perfectly, my lord. 
 Malcf. I am [your] captain's friend. 
 
 1 Sold. It maybe so ; but till we know his 
 pleasure, 
 
 You must excuse us. 
 
 2 Sold. We'll acquaint him with 
 Your waiting here. 
 
 Malef. Waiting, slave ! he was ever 
 By me commanded. 
 
 1 Sold. As we are by him. 
 
 Malcf. So punctual ! pray you then, in 
 
 my name entreat 
 His presence. 
 
 2 Sold. That we shall do. [Exeunt Sold. 
 Malef. I must use 
 
 Some strange persuasions to work him to 
 Deliver her, and to forget the vows, 
 And horrid oaths I, in my madness, made him 
 Take to the contrary : and may I get her 
 Once more in my possession, f will bear her 
 Into some close cave ordesert, where we'll end 
 Our lusts and lives together. 
 
 Enter Montreville and Soldiers, upon ihe 
 Walls. 
 
 Montr. Fail not, on 
 The forfeit of your lives, to execute 
 W T hat I command. {Exeunt Soldiers. 
 
 Malef. Montreville! how is't friend? 
 
 Montr. I am glad to see you wear such 
 
 cheerful looks ; 
 The world's well alter'd. 
 
 Malef. Yes, I thank my stars : 
 But methinks thou art troubled. 
 
 Montr. Some light cross, 
 But of no moment. 
 
 Malef. So I hope : beware 
 Of sad and impious thoughts ; you know 
 
 how far 
 They wrought on me. 
 
 Montr. No such come near me, sir. 
 
THE UNNATURAL COMBAT. 
 
 6r 
 
 I have, like you, no daughter, and much 
 
 wish 
 You never had been curs'd with one. 
 
 Male/. Who, I ? 
 
 Thou art deceived, I am most happy in her. 
 Montr. I am glad to hear it. 
 Malef. My incestuous fires 
 To'ards her are quite burnt out ; I love her 
 
 now 
 As a father, and no further. 
 
 Montr. Fix there then 
 Your constant peace, and do not try a second 
 Temptation from her. 
 
 Malef. Yes, friend, though she were 
 By millions of degrees more excellent 
 In her perfections ; nay, though she could 
 
 borrow 
 
 A form angelical to take my frailty, 
 It would not do : and therefore, Montre- 
 
 ville, 
 My chief delight next her, I come to tell 
 
 thee, 
 
 The governor and I are reconciled, 
 And I confirm'd, and with all possible speed, 
 To make large satisfaction to young Beau- 
 fort, 
 And her, whom I have so much wrong'd ; 
 
 and for 
 
 Thy trouble in her custody, of which 
 1'H'now discharge thee, there is nothing in 
 My nerves or fortunes, but shall ever be 
 At thy devotion. 
 
 Montr. You promise fairly, 
 Nor doubt I the performance ; yet I would 
 
 not 
 
 Hereafter be reported to have been 
 The principal occasion of your falling 
 Into a relapse : or but suppose, out of 
 The easiness of my nature, and assurance 
 You are firm and can hold out, I could con- 
 sent ; 
 
 You needs must know there are so many lets 
 That make against it, that it is my wonder 
 You offer me the motion ; having bound me, 
 With oaths and imprecations, on no terms, 
 Reasons, or arguments, you could propose, 
 I ever should admit you to her sight, 
 Much less restore her to you. 
 
 Malef. Are we soldiers, 
 And stand on oaths ! 
 
 Montr. It is beyond my knowledge 
 In what we are more worthy, than in keeping 
 Our words, much more our vows. 
 
 Malef. Heaven pardon all ! 
 How many thousands, in our heat of wine, 
 Quarrels, and play, and in our younger days, 
 In private I may say, between ourselves, 
 In points of love, have we to answer for, 
 Should we be scrupulous that way ? 
 
 M ntr. You say well : 
 And very aptly call to memory 
 Two oaths, against all ties and rites of 
 
 friendship, 
 
 Broken by you to me. 
 Malef. No more of that. 
 Montr. Yes, 'tis material, and to the pur- 
 pose : 
 The first (and think upon't) was, when I 
 
 brought you 
 
 As a visitant to my mistress then, (the mother 
 Of this same daughter,) whom, with dread- 
 ful words, 
 
 Too hidtous to remember, you swore deeply 
 For my sake never to attempt ; yet then, 
 Then, when you had a sweet wife of yourown, 
 I know not with what arts, philtres, and 
 
 charms 
 (Unless in wealth and fame you were above 
 
 me) 
 You won her from me ; and, her grant ob- 
 
 tain'd, 
 
 A marriage with the second waited on 
 The burial of the first, that to the world 
 Brought your dead son : this I sat tamely 
 
 down by, 
 
 Wanting, indeed, occasion and power 
 To be at the height revenged. 
 Malef. Yet this you seem'd 
 Freely to pardon. 
 
 Montr. As perhaps I did. 
 Your daughter Theocrine growing ripe, 
 (Her mother too deceased,) and fit for mar- 
 riage, 
 
 I was a suitor for her, had your word, 
 Upon your honour, and our friendship made 
 Authentical, and ratified with an oath, 
 She should be mine : but vows with you 
 
 being like 
 
 To your religion, a nose of wax 
 To be turn'd every way, that very day 
 Thegovernor'ssonbutmakinghis approaches 
 Of courtship to her, the wind of your ambition 
 For her advancement, scatter'd the thin sand 
 In which you wrote your full consent to me, 
 And drew you to his party. What hath pass'd 
 
 since, 
 
 You bear a register in your own bosom, 
 That can at large inform you. 
 
 Malef. Montreville, 
 
 I do confess all that you charge me with 
 To be strong truth, and that I bring a cause \ 
 Most miserably guilty, and acknowledge 
 That though your goodness made me mine j 
 
 own judge, 
 
 I should not shew the least compassion 
 Or mercy to myself. O, let not yet 
 My foulness taint your pureness, or my false- 
 hood 
 
THE UNNATURAL COMBAT. 
 
 Divert the torrent of your loyal faith ! 
 My ills, if not return 'd by you, will add 
 Lustre to your much good ; and to o'ercome 
 With noble sufferance, will express your 
 
 strength, 
 And triumph o'er my weakness. If you 
 
 please too, 
 
 My black deeds being only known to you, 
 And, in surrendering up mydaughter, buried, 
 You not alone make me your slave, (for I 
 At no part do deserve the name of friend,) 
 But in your own breast raise a monument 
 Of pity to a wretch, on whom with justice 
 You may express all cruelty. 
 Montr. You much move me. 
 Malef. O that I could but hope it ! To 
 
 revenge 
 
 An injury, is proper to the wishes 
 Of feeble women, that want strength to act it : 
 But to have power to punish, and yet pardon, 
 Peculiar to princes. See ! these knees, 
 
 \Kmds. 
 
 That have been ever stiff to bend to heaven, 
 To you are supple. Is there aught beyond 
 
 this 
 
 That may speak my submission? or can pride 
 (Though I well know it is a stranger to you) 
 Desire a feast of more humility, 
 To kill her growing appetite ? 
 
 Montr. I required not 
 To be sought to this poor way ; yet 'tis so far 
 A kind of satisfaction, that I will 
 Dispense a little with those serious oaths 
 You made me take : your daughter shall 
 
 come to you, 
 
 I will not say, as you deliver'd her, 
 But, as she is, you may dispose of her 
 As you shall think most requisite. \Exit. 
 
 Malef. His last words 
 Are riddles to me. Here the lion's force 
 Would have proved useless, and, against 
 
 my nature, 
 
 Compell'd me from the crocodile to borrow 
 Her counterfeit tears : there's now no turn- 
 ing backward. 
 
 May I but quench these fires that rage with- 
 in me, 
 And fall what can fall, I am arm'd to bear it ! 
 
 Enter Soldiers below, thrusting forth Theo- 
 crine ; her garments loose, her hair dishe- 
 velled, 
 
 2 Sold. You must be packing. 
 
 Theoc. Hath he robb'd me of 
 Mine honour, and denies me now a room 
 To hide my shame ! 
 
 2 Sold. My lord the admiral 
 Attends your ladyship. 
 
 i Sold. Close the port, and leave them. 
 \_Exeunt Soldiers. 
 
 Malef. Ha ! who is this ? how alter'd ! 
 
 how deform 'd ! 
 
 It cannot be : and yet this creature has 
 A kind of a resemblance to my daughter, 
 My Theocrine ! but as different 
 From that she was, as bodies dead are, in 
 Their best perfections, from what they were 
 When they had life and. motion. 
 
 Theoc. 'Tis most true, sir ; 
 I am dead indeed to all but misery. 
 
 come not near me sir, I am infectious : 
 To look on me at distance, is as dangerous 
 As, from a pinnacle's cloud-kissing spire, 
 With giddy eyes to view the deep descent ; 
 But to acknowledge me, a certain ruin. 
 
 O, sir ! 
 
 Malef. Speak, Theocrine, force me not 
 To further question ; my fears already 
 Have choked my vital spirits. 
 
 Theoc. Pray you turn away 
 Your face and hear me, and with my last 
 
 breath 
 
 Give me leave to accuse you: What offence, 
 From my first infancy, did I commit, 
 That for a punishment you should give up 
 My virgin chastity to the treacherous guard 
 Of goatish Montreville ? 
 
 Malef. What hath he done ? 
 
 Theoc. Abused me, sir, by violence ; and 
 this told, 
 
 1 cannot live to speak more : may the cause 
 In you find pardon, but the speeding curse 
 Of a ravish'd maid fall heavy, heavy on 
 
 him ! 
 
 Beaufort, my lawful love, farewell for ever. 
 
 [Dies. 
 
 Malef. Take not thy flight so soon, im- 
 maculate spirit ! 
 
 'Tis fled already. How the innocent, 
 As in a gentle slumber, pass away ! 
 But to cut off the knotty thread of life 
 In guilty men, must force stern Atropos 
 To use her sharp knife often. I would help 
 The edge of hers with the sharp point of mine, 
 But that I dare not die, till I have rent 
 This dog's heart piecemeal. O, that I had 
 
 wines 
 To scale these walls, or that my hands were 
 
 cannons, 
 
 To bore their flinty sides, that I might bring- 
 The villain in the reach of my good sword ! 
 The Turkish empire offer'd for his ransom, 
 Should not redeem his life. O that my voice 
 Were loud as thunder, and with horrid sounds 
 Might force a dreadful passage to his ears, 
 And through them. reach his soul ! Libidinous, 
 monster ! 
 
THE UNNATURAL COMBAT. 
 
 Foul ravisher ! as thou durst do a deed 
 Which forced the sun to hide his glorious face 
 Behind a sable mask of clouds, appear, 
 And as a man defend it ; or, like me, 
 Shew some compunction for it. 
 
 Enter Montreville on the Walls, above. 
 
 Montr. Ha, ha, ha ! 
 
 Malef. Is this an object to raise mirth ? 
 
 Montr. Yes, yes. 
 
 Malef. My daughter's dead. 
 
 Montr. Thou hadst best follow her ; 
 Or, if thou art the thing thou art reported, 
 Thou shouldst have led the way. Do tear 
 
 thy hair, 
 Like a village nurse, and mourn, while I 
 
 laugh at thee. 
 
 Be but a just examiner of thyself, 
 And in an equal balance poise the nothing, 
 Or little mischief I have done, compared 
 With the pond'rous weight of thine : and 
 
 how canst thou 
 
 Accuse or argue with me ? mine was a rape, 
 And she being in a kind contracted to me, 
 The fact may challenge some qualification : 
 But thy intent made nature's self run back- 
 ward, 
 
 And done, had caused an earthquake, 
 Enter Soldiers above. 
 
 1 Sold. Captain ! 
 Montr. Ha! 
 
 2 Sold. Our outworks are surprised, the 
 sentinel slain, 
 
 The corps de guard defeated too. 
 Montr. By whom ? 
 i Sold. The sudden storm and darkness 
 
 of the night 
 
 Forbids the knowledge ; make up speedily, 
 
 Or all is lost. [Exeunt. 
 
 Montr. In the devil's name, whence comes 
 
 this ? [Exit. 
 
 [A storm ; with thunder and lightning. 
 Malef. Do, do rage on ! rend open, ^Eolus, 
 Thy brazen prison, and let loose at once 
 Thy stormy issue ! Blustering Boreas, 
 Aided with all the gales tha pilot numbers 
 Upon his compass, cannot raise a tempest 
 Through the vast region of the air, like that 
 I feel within me : for I am possess'd 
 With whirlwinds, and each guilty thought 
 
 to me is 
 
 A dreadful hurricane. Though this centre 
 Labour to bring forth earthquakes, and hell 
 
 open 
 Her wide-stretch'd jaws, and let out all her 
 
 furies, 
 
 They cannot add an atom to the mountain 
 Of fears and terrors that each minute threaten 
 To fall on my accursed head. 
 
 Enter the Ghost of young Malefort, naked 
 from the -waist, full of wounds, leading in 
 the Shadow of a Lady, her face leprous. 
 
 Ha! is't fancy? 
 
 Or hath hell heard me, and makes proof if I 
 Dare stand the trial ? Yes, I do ; and now 
 I view these apparitions, I feel 
 I once did know the substances. For what 
 
 come you ? 
 
 Are your aerial forms deprived of language, 
 And so denied to tell me, that by signs 
 
 [The Ghosts use various gestures. 
 You bid me ask here of myself? Tis so : 
 And there is something here makes answer 
 
 for you. 
 You come to lance my sear'd-up conscience ; 
 
 yes, 
 
 And to instruct me, that those thunderbolts, 
 That hurl'd me headlong from the height of 
 
 glory, 
 Wealth, honours, worldly happiness, were 
 
 forged 
 
 Upon the anvil of my impious wrongs, 
 And cruelty to you i' I do confess it ; 
 And that my lust compelling me to make 
 
 way 
 
 For a second wife, I poison'd thee ; and that 
 The cause (which to the world is undis- 
 
 cover'd) 
 
 That forced thee to shake off thy filial duty 
 To me, thy father, had its spring and source 
 From thy impatience, to know thy mother, 
 That with all duty and obedience served me, 
 (For now with horror I acknowledge it,) 
 Removed unjustly : yet, thou being my son, 
 Wert not a competent judge mark'd out by 
 
 heaven 
 
 For her revenger, which thy falling by 
 My weaker hand confirm 'd . [A nswered still 
 
 by signs. .] Tis granted by thee. 
 Can any penance expiate my guilt, 
 Or can repentance save me ? 
 
 [The Ghosts disappear. 
 They are vanish 'd ! 
 
 What's left to do then ? I'll accuse my fate, 
 That did not fashion me for nobler uses : 
 For if those stars, cross to me in my birth, 
 Had not denied their prosperous influence 
 
 to it, 
 With peace of conscience, like to innocent 
 
 men, 
 I might have ceased to be, and not as now, 
 
 To curse my cause of being 
 
 [He is kill'd with aflath of lightning. 
 
 Enter Belgarde, with Soldiers. 
 Bclg. Here's a night 
 
 To season my silks ! Buff-jerkin, now I miss 
 thee : 
 
6 4 
 
 THE UNNATURAL COMBAT. 
 
 Thou hast endured many foul nights, but 
 
 never 
 One like to this. How fine my feather looks 
 
 now ! 
 
 Just like a capon's tail stol'n out of the pen, 
 And hid in the sink ; and yet 't had been 
 
 dishonour 
 To have charged without it. Wilt thou 
 
 never cease ? 
 
 Is the petard, as I gave directions, fasten'd 
 On the portcullis ? 
 
 1 Sold. It hath been attempted 
 By divers, but in vain. 
 
 Belg. These are your gallants, 
 That at a feast take the first place, poor I 
 Hardly allow'd to follow ; marry, in 
 These foolish businesses they are content 
 That I shall have precedence ; I much thank 
 Their manners, or their fear. Second me, 
 
 soldiers ; 
 
 They have had no time to undermine, or if 
 They have, it is but blowing up, and fetching 
 A caper or two in the air ; and I will do it, 
 Rather than blow my nails here. 
 
 2 Sold. O brave captain ! [Exeunt. 
 
 An. Alarum ; noise and cries within. After 
 a flourish, enter Beaufort senior, Beaufort 
 junior, Montaigne, Chamont, Lanour, 
 Belgarde, and Soldiers, with Montreville 
 prisoner. 
 
 Montr. Racks cannot force more from me 
 than I have 
 
 Already told you : I expect no favour ; 
 I have cast up my accompt. 
 
 Beauf. sen. Take you the charge 
 Of the fort, Belgarde ; your dangers have 
 
 deserved it. 
 Belg. I thank your excellence : this will 
 
 keep me safe yet 
 From being pull'd by the sleeve, and bid 
 
 remember 
 The thing I wot of. 
 
 Beauf. fun. All that have eyes to weep, 
 Spare one tear with me. Theocrine's 
 
 dead. 
 Mont. Her father too lies breathless here, 
 
 I think 
 Struck dead with thunder. 
 
 Cham. Tis apparent : how 
 His carcass smells ! 
 
 Lan. His face is alter 'd to 
 Another colour. 
 
 Bea^tf. jun. But here's one retains 
 Her native innocence, that never yet 
 Call'd down heaven's anger. 
 
 Beauf. sen. Tis in vain to mourn 
 For what's past help. We will refer, bad 
 
 man, 
 Your sentence to the king. May we make 
 
 use of 
 This great example, and learn from it, 
 
 that 
 
 There cannot be a want of power above, 
 To punish murder, and unlawful love ! 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
The Duke of Milan. 
 
 DRAMATIS PERSONS. 
 
 Ludovico Sforza, supposed duke of Milan. 
 Francisco, his especial favourite. 
 
 r to 
 
 Graccho, a creature 0/" Mariana. 
 
 Sovanni, If"***** 
 
 Charles, the Emperor. 
 
 Pescara, an imperialist, but a friend 
 
 Sforza. 
 
 Hernando, "I 
 
 Medina, \captains to the Emperor. 
 Alphonso, j 
 
 SCENE, -for the first and second acts, in Milan; during part of thethird, in ihc Imperial 
 Camp near Pavia ; the rest of the play, in Milan, and its neighbourhood. 
 
 Three Gentlemen. 
 
 Fiddlers. 
 
 An Officer. 
 
 Two Doctors. Two Couriers. 
 
 Marcelia, the dutchess, wife to Sforza. 
 
 Isabella, mother to Sforza. 
 
 Mariana, wife to Francisco, and siste. 
 
 Sforza. 
 
 Eugenia, sister to Francisco. 
 A Gentlewoman. 
 Guards, Servants, Attendants. 
 
 ACTI. 
 
 SCENE I. Milan. An outer Room in 
 
 the Castle. 
 Enter Graccho, Julio, and Giovanni, wi/A 
 
 Flaggons. 
 Grac. Take every man his flaggon : give 
 
 the oath 
 
 To all you meet ; I am this day the state- 
 drunkard, 
 
 I am sure against my will ; and if you find 
 A man at ten that's sober, he's a traitor, 
 And, in my name, arrest him. 
 
 Jul. Very good, sir : 
 But, say he be a sexton? 
 
 Grac. If the bells 
 
 Ring out of tune, as if the street were burn- 
 ing, 
 
 And he cry, ' Tis rare music ! bid him sleep : 
 'Tis a sign he has ta'en his liquor ; and if 
 
 you meet 
 
 An officer preaching of sobriety, 
 Unless he read it in Geneva print, 
 Lay him by the heels. 
 
 Jul. But think you 'tis a fault 
 To be found sober? 
 
 Grac. It is capital treason : 
 Or, if you mitigate it, let such pay 
 Forty crowns to the poor : but give a pension 
 To all the magistrates you find singing 
 
 catches, 
 
 Or their wives dancing ; for the courtiers 
 reeling, 
 
 And the duke himself, I dare not say dis- 
 
 temper'd, 
 
 But kind, and in his tottering chair carousing, 
 They do the country service, flfyou meef" 
 One that eats bread, a child of ignorance, 
 And bred up in the darkness of no drinking, 
 Against his will you may initiate him 
 In the true posture ; though he die in the 
 
 taking 
 
 His drench, it skills not : what's a private man, 
 For the public honour ! We've nought else 
 
 to think on. 
 And so, dear friends, copartners in my 
 
 travails, 
 Drink hard ; and let the health run through 
 
 the city, 
 
 Until it reel again, and with me cry, 
 Long live the dutchess ! 
 
 Enter Tiberio and Stephano. 
 Ji, I. Here are two lords ; what think you? 
 Shall we give the oath to them? 
 Grac . Fie ! no : I know them, 
 You need not swear them ; your lord, by his 
 
 patent, 
 
 Stands bound to take his rouse. Long live 
 the dutchess ! 
 
 [Exeunt Grac. Jul. and Gio. 
 Steph. The cause of this? but yesterday the 
 
 court 
 
 Wore the sad livery of distrust and fear ; 
 No smile, not in a buffoon to be seen, 
 Or common jester : the Great Duke himself 
 

 66 
 
 THE DUKE OP MILAN. 
 
 Had sorrow in his face ! which, waited on 
 By his mother, sister, and his fairest dutchess, 
 Dispersed a silent mourning through aL 
 
 Milan ; 
 As if some great blow had been given the 
 
 state, 
 Or were at least expected. 
 
 Tib. Stephano, 
 
 I know as you are noble, you are honest, 
 And capable of secrets of more weight 
 Than now I shall deliver. If that Sforza, 
 The present duke, (though his whole life 
 
 hath been 
 But one continued pilgrimage through 
 
 dangers, 
 Affrights, and horrors, which his fortune, 
 
 guided 
 
 By his strong judgment, still hath overcome,) 
 Appears now shaken, it deserves no wonder : 
 All that his youth hath labour'd for, the 
 
 harvest 
 
 Sown by his industry ready to be reap'd too, 
 ; Being now at stake ; and all his hopes con- 
 
 firm'd, 
 Or lost for ever. 
 
 Steph. I know no such hazard : 
 His guards are strong and sure, his coffers 
 
 full; 
 
 The people well affected ; and so wisely 
 His provident care hath wrought, that 
 
 though war rages 
 
 In most parts of our western world, there is 
 No enemy near us. 
 
 Tib. Dangers, that we see 
 To threaten ruin, are with ease prevented ; 
 ! But those strike deadly, that come unex- 
 pected : 
 
 | The lightning is far off, yet, soon as seen, 
 We may behold the terrible effects 
 That it produceth. But I'll help your know- 
 ledge, 
 
 And make his cause of fear familiar to you. 
 The wars so long continued between 
 The emperor Charles, and Francis the 
 
 French king, 
 
 Have interess'd, in cither's cause, the most 
 Of the Italian princes ; among which, Sforza, 
 As one of greatest power, was sought by 
 
 both; 
 
 But with assurance, having one his friend, 
 The other lived his enemy. 
 
 Steph. 'Tis true : 
 And 'twas a doubtful choice. 
 
 Tib. But he, well knowing, 
 And hating too, it seems, the Spanish pride, 
 Lent his assistance to the king of France : 
 Which hath so far incensed the emperor, 
 That all his hopes and honours are embark'd 
 With his great patron's fortune. 
 
 Steph. Which stands fair, 
 For aught I yet can hear. 
 
 Tib. But should it change, 
 The duke's undone. They have drawn to 
 
 the field 
 
 Two royal armies, full of fiery youth ; 
 Of equal spirit to dare, and power to do : 
 So near intrench 'd, that 'tis beyond all hope 
 Of human counsel they can e'er be severed, 
 Until it be determined by the sword, 
 Who hath the better cause : for the. success, 
 Concludes the victor innocent, and the van- 
 quish 'd 
 
 Most miserably guilty, j How uncertain 
 The fortune of the war is, children know ; 
 And, it being in suspense, on whose fair tent 
 Wing'd Victory will make her glorious stand, 
 *You cannot blame the duke, though he 
 
 appear 
 
 Perplex 'd and troubled. 
 Steph. But why, then, 
 
 In such a time, when every knee should bend 
 For the success and safety of his person, 
 Are theseloud triumphs? inmy weakopinion, 
 They are unseasonable. 
 Tib. I judge so too ; 
 But only in the cause to be excused. 
 It is the dutchess 1 birthday, once a year 
 Solemnized with all pomp and ceremony ; 
 In which the duke is not his own, but hers : 
 Nay, every day, indeed, he is her creature, 
 For never man so doated ; but to tell 
 The tenth part of his fondness to a stranger^ 
 Would argue me of fiction. 
 
 Steph. She's, indeed, 
 A lady of most exquisite form. 
 
 Tib. She knows it, 
 Arid how to prize it. 
 
 Stepk. I ne'er heard her tainted 
 In any point of honour. 
 
 Tib. On my life, 
 She's constant to his bed, and well deserves 
 His largest favours. But, when beauty is 
 Stamp'd on great women, great in birth and 
 
 fortune, 
 
 And blown by flatterers greater than it is 
 Tis seldom unaccompanied with pride ; 
 Nor is she that way free : presuming on 
 The duke's affection, and her own desert, 
 She bears herself with such a maiestyT* 13 "* 3 " 
 Looking with scorn on all as things beneath 
 
 her, 
 That Sforza's mother, that would lose no 
 
 part 
 
 Of what was once her own, nor his fair sister, 
 A lady too acquainted with her worth, _ 
 VV ill brook it well ; and howsoe'er their hate 
 Is smother'd tor a time, 'tis more than fear'd 
 It will at length break out. 
 
THE DUKE OF MILAN. 
 
 Sieph. He in whose power it is, 
 |i |Turn all to the best ! _-J 
 
 Tib. Come, let us to the court ; 
 We there shall see all bravery and cost, 
 That art can boast of. 
 
 Steph. I'll bear you company. 
 
 {Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE II. Another Room in the same. 
 Enter Francisco, Isabella, and Mariana. 
 
 Marl. I will not go ; I scorn to be a spot 
 In her proud train. 
 
 Isab. Shall I, that am his mother, 
 Be so indulgent, as to wait on her 
 That owes me duty ? 
 
 Fran. 'Tis done to the duke, 
 And not to her : and, my sweet wife, re- 
 member, 
 And, madam, if you please, receive my 
 
 counsel, 
 As Sforza is your son, you may command 
 
 him ; 
 And, as a sister, you may challenge from 
 
 him 
 A brother's love and favour : but, this 
 
 granted, 
 
 Consider he's the prince, and you his sub- 
 jects, 
 
 And not to question or contend with her 
 Whom he is pleased to honour. Private 
 
 men 
 Prefer their wives ; and shall he, being a 
 
 prince, 
 
 And blest with one that is the paradise 
 Of sweetness and of beauty, to whose charge 
 The stock of women's goodness is given up, 
 Not use her like herself? 
 
 I sab. You are ever forward 
 To sing her praises. 
 
 Jl/ari. Others are as fair ; 
 I am sure, as noble. 
 
 Fran'. I detract from none, 
 Ingivingherwhat's due. Were she deform'd, 
 Yet being the dutchess, I stand bound to 
 
 serve her ; 
 
 But, as she is, to admire her. Never wife 
 Met with a purer heat her husband's fervour ; 
 A happy pair, one in the other blest ! 
 She confident in herself he's wholly hers, 
 And cannot seek for change ; and he secure, 
 That 'tis not in the power of man to tempt her. 
 And therefore to contest with her, that is 
 The stronger and the better part of him, 
 Is more than folly : you know him of a nature 
 Not to be played with ; and, should you forget 
 To obey him as your prince, he'll not re- 
 member 
 The duty that he owes you. 
 
 Isab. 'Tis but truth : 
 Come, clear our brows, and let us to the 
 
 banquet ; 
 But not to serve his idol. 
 
 Marl. I shall do 
 
 What may become the sister of a prince ; 
 But will not stoop beneath it. 
 
 Fran. Yet, be wise ; 
 
 Soar not too high, to fall ; but stoop to rise. 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE III. A State Room in the same. 
 
 Enter three Gentlemen, setting forth a 
 banquet. 
 
 1 Gent. Quick, quick, for love's sake ! let 
 the court put on 
 
 Her choicest outside : cost and bravery 
 Be only thought of. 
 
 2 Gent. All that may be had 
 
 To please the eye, the ear, taste, touch, or 
 
 smell, 
 Are carefully provided. 
 
 3 Gent. There's a masque : 
 
 Have you heard what's the invention ? 
 
 i Gent. No matter : 
 It is intended for the dutchess' honour ; 
 And if it give her glorious attributes, 
 As the most fair, most virtuous, and the rest, 
 'Twill please the duke [Loud music]. They 
 come. 
 
 3 Gent. All is in order. 
 
 Flourish. Enter Tiberio, Stephano, Fran- 
 cisco, Sforza, Marcelia, Isabella, Mariana, 
 and Attendants. 
 
 Sfor. You are the mistress of the feast 
 
 sit here, 
 
 O my soul's comfort ! and when Sforza bows f 
 Thus low to do you honour, let none think | 
 The meanest service they can pay my love, ' 
 But as a fair addition to those titl 
 They stand possest of. Let me gl67y"irT 
 My happiness, and mighty kings look pale 
 With envy, while I triumph in mine own. 
 O mother, look on her ! sister, admire her ! 
 And, since this present age yields not a 
 woman ^ 
 
 Worthy to be her secondl borrow of 
 Times past, and let imagination help, 
 Of those canonized ladies Sparta boasts of, 
 And, in her greatness, Rome was proud to 
 
 owe, 
 
 To fashion one ; yet still you must confess, 
 The phoenix of perfection ne'er was seen, 
 But in my fair Marcelia. 
 
 Fran. She 's, indeed, 
 The wonder oi all times. 
 
 Tib. Your excellence, 
 
 ~ 
 
68 
 
 THE DUKE OF MILAN. 
 
 Though I confess, you give her but her own, 
 Forces her modesty to the defence 
 Of a sweet blush. 
 
 Sfor. It need not, my Marcelia ; 
 When most I strive to praise thee, I appear 
 A poor detractor : for thou art, indeed, 
 So absolute in body and in mind, 
 That, but to speak the least part to the 
 
 height, 
 Would ask an angel's tongue, and yet then 
 
 end 
 In silent admiration ! 
 
 Isab. You still court her, 
 As if she were a mistress, not your wife. 
 Sfor. A mistress, mother ! she is more 
 
 to me, 
 
 And every day deserves more to be sued to. 
 Such as are cloy'd with those they have 
 
 embraced, 
 May think their wooing done : no night 
 
 to me 
 
 But is a bridal one, where Hymen lights 
 His torches fresh and new ; and those de- 
 lights, 
 
 Which are not to be clothed in airy sounds, 
 Enjoy 'd, beget desires as full of heat, 
 And jovial fervour, as when first I tasted 
 Her virgin fruit. Blest night ! and be it 
 
 number'd 
 Amongst those happy ones, in which a 
 
 blessing 
 
 Was, by the full consent of all the stars, 
 Conferr'd upon mankind. 
 
 Marc. My worthiest lord ! 
 The only object I behold with pleasure, 
 My pride, my glory, in a word, my all ! 
 Bear witness, heaven, that I esteem myself 
 In nothing worthy of the meanest praise 
 You can bestow, unless it be in this, 
 That in my heart I love and honour you. 
 fTAnd, but that it would smell of arrogance, 
 / To speak my strong desire and zeal to serve 
 
 you, 
 
 I then could say, these eyes yet never saw 
 The rising sun, but that my vows and prayers 
 Were sent to heaven for the prosperity 
 And safety of my lord : nor have I ever 
 Had other study, but how to appear 
 Worthy your favour ; and that my embraces 
 j Might yield a fruitful harvest of content 
 I For all your noble travail, in the purchase 
 Of her that's still your servant : By these 
 
 lips, 
 ; Which, pardon me, that I presume to 
 
 .kiss 
 Sfor. O swear, for ever swear ! 
 Marc. I ne'er will seek 
 Delight but in your pleasure : and desire, 
 When you are sated with all earthly glories, 
 
 And age and honours make you fit for 
 
 heaven, 
 That one grave may receive us. 
 
 Sfor. Tis believed, 
 Believed, my blest one. 
 
 Mari. How she winds herself 
 Into his soul ! 
 
 Sfor. Sit all. Let others feed 
 On those gross cates, while Sforza banquets 
 
 with 
 
 Immortal viands ta'en in at his 
 I could live ever thus. Command the eunuch 
 To sing the ditty that I last composed, a f. 
 
 Enter a Courier. . __ 
 
 In praise of my Marcelia. From whence? 
 
 Cour. From Pavia, my dread lord. 
 
 Sfor. Speak, is all lost ? 
 
 Cour. [Delivers a letter.'] The letter will 
 inform you. [Exit. 
 
 Fran. How his hand shakes, 
 As he receives it ! 
 
 Mari. This is some allay 
 To his hot passion. 
 
 Sfor. Though it bring death, I'll read it : 
 
 May it please your excellence to under- 
 stand, that the very hour I wrote this, / 
 heard a bold defiance delivered bv a herald 
 from the emperor, which was cheerfully re- 
 ceived by the king of France. The battailes 
 being ready to join, and the vanguard com- 
 mitted to my charge, enforces me to end, 
 abruptly. 
 
 Your Highness' s humble servant. 
 
 GASPERO. 
 
 Ready to join! By this, then, I am nothing. 
 Or my estate secure. [Aside. 
 
 Marc. My lord. 
 Sfor. To doubt, 
 
 Is worse than to have lost ; and to despair, 
 Is but to antedate those miseries 
 That must fall on us ; all my hopes depending 
 Upon this battle's fortune. In my soul, 
 Methinks, there should be that imperious 
 
 power, 
 
 By supernatural, not usual means, 
 T' inform me what I am. The cause con- 
 
 sider'd, 
 Why should I fear? The French are bold 
 
 and strong, 
 Their numbers full, and in their councils 
 
 wise; 
 
 But then, the haughty Spaniard is all fire, 
 Hot in his executions ; fortunate 
 In his attempts ; married to victory : 
 Ay, there it is that shakes me. [Aside. 
 
 Fran. Excellent lady, 
 This day was dedicated to your honour ; 
 
THE DUKE OF MILAN. 
 
 One gale of your sweet breath will easily 
 Disperse these clouds ; and, but yourself, 
 
 there's none 
 t That dare speak to him. 
 
 Marc. 1 will run the hazard. 
 ! My lord ! 
 
 'Sfor. Ha ! pardon me, Marcelia, I am 
 
 troubled ; 
 
 Arid stand uncertain, whether I am master 
 Of aught that's worth the owning. 
 
 Marc. I am yours, sir ; 
 And I have heard you swear, I being safe, 
 i There was no loss could move you. This 
 
 day, sir, 
 
 I Is by your gift made mine. Can you revoke 
 A grant made to Marcelia? your Marcelia ? 
 For whose love, nay, whose honour, gentle 
 
 sir, 
 
 All deep designs, and state-affairs deferr'd, 
 Be, as you purposed, merry. 
 Sfor. Out of my sight ! 
 
 [Throws away the letter. 
 And all thoughts that may strangle mirth 
 
 forsake me. 
 | Fall what can fall, I dare the worst of fate : 
 
 i Though the foundation of the earth should 
 shrink, 
 
 \ The glorious eye of heaven lose his splen- 
 dour, 
 
 Supported thus, I'll stand upon the ruins, 
 And seek for new life here. Why are you 
 
 sad? 
 No other sports ! by heaven, he's not my 
 
 friend, 
 
 lat wears one furrow in his face, I was told 
 ere was a masque. 
 
 Fran. They wait your highness' pleasure, 
 And when you please to have it. 
 Sfor. Bid them enter : 
 'ome, make me happy once again. I am 
 
 rapt 
 
 'Tis not to-day, to-morrow, or the next, 
 But all my days, and years, shall be eni- 
 
 ploy'd 
 To do thee honour. 
 
 Marc. And my life to serve you. 
 
 [A horn without. 
 Sfor. Another post ! Go hang him, hang 
 
 him, I say ; 
 
 I will not interrupt my present pleasures, 
 Although his message should import my 
 
 head : 
 Hang him, I say. 
 
 Marc. Nay, good sir, I am pleased 
 To grant a little intermission to you ; 
 Who knows but he brings news we wish to 
 
 hear, 
 
 To heighten our delights. 
 Sfor. As wise as fair ! 
 
 Enter another Courier. 
 
 From Gaspero ? 
 
 Cour. That was, my lord, 
 Sfor. How ! dead ? 
 
 Cour. [Delivers a letter.^ With the de- 
 livery of this, and prayers, 
 To guard your excellency from certain dan- 
 gers, 
 He ceased to be a man. [Exit. 
 
 Sfor. All that my fears 
 Could fashion to me, or my enemies wish, 
 Is fallen upon me. Silence that harsh music ; 
 'Tis now unseasonable : a tolling bell, 
 As a sad harbinger to tell me, that 
 This pamper'd lump of flesh must feast the 
 
 worms, 
 
 Is fitter for me : I am sick. 
 Marc. My lord! 
 
 Sfor. Sick to the death , Marcelia. Remove 
 These signs of mirth ; they were ominous, 
 
 and but usher' d 
 Sorrow and ruin. 
 Marc. Bless us, heaven ! 
 I sab. My son. 
 
 Marc. What sudden change is this ? 
 Sfor. All leave the room ; 
 I'll bear alone the burden of my grief, 
 And must admit no partner. I am yet 
 Your prince, where's your obedience? Stay, 
 
 Marcelia ; 
 
 I cannot be so greedy of a sorrow, 
 In which you must not share. 
 
 [Exeunt Tiberio, Stephano, Francisco, 
 
 Isabella, Mariana, and Attendants. 
 Marc. And cheerfully 
 
 I will sustain my part. Why look you pale ? 
 Where is that wonted constancy and cou- 
 rage, 
 That dared the worst of fortune ? where is 
 
 Sforza, 
 To whom all dangers that fright common 
 
 men, 
 Appear'd but panic terrors ? why do you 
 
 eye me 
 With such fix'd looks ? Love, counsel, duty, 
 
 service, 
 May flow from me, not danger. 
 
 Sfor. O, Marcelia ! 
 
 It is for thee I fear ; for thee, thy Sforza 
 Shakes like a coward : for myself, unmoved, 
 I could have heard my troops were cut in 
 
 pieces, 
 
 My general slain, and he, on whom my hopes 
 Of rule, of state, of life, had their depen- 
 dence, 
 The king of France, my greatest friend, 
 
 made prisoner 
 To so proud enemies. 
 
: 
 
 THE DUKE OF MILAN 
 
 Marc. Then you have just cause 
 To shew you are a man. 
 
 Sfor. All this were nothing, 
 Though I add to it, that I am assured, 
 For giving aid to this unfortunate king, 
 The emperor, incens'd, lays his command 
 On his victorious army, flesh'd with spoil, 
 And bold of conquest, to march up against 
 
 me, 
 And seize on my estates : suppose that done 
 
 too, 
 
 The city ta'en, the kennels running blood, 
 The ransack'd temples falling on their saints : 
 My mother, in my sight, toss'd on their pikes, 
 And sister ravish 'd ; and myself bound fast 
 In chains, to grace their triumph ; or what 
 
 else 
 
 An enemy's insolence could load me with, 
 I would be Sforza still. But, when I think 
 That my Marcelia, to whom all these 
 Are but as atoms to the greatest hill, 
 Must suffer in my cause, and for me suffer ! 
 All earthly torments, nay, even those the 
 
 damn'd 
 
 Howl for in hell, are gentle strokes, com- 
 pared 
 To what I feel, Marcelia. 
 
 'Marc. Good sir, have patience : 
 I can as well partake your adverse fortune, 
 As I thus long have had an ample share 
 In your prosperity. 'Tis not in the power 
 Of fate to alter me ; for while I am, 
 In spite of it, I'm yours. 
 
 Sfor. But should that will 
 To be so [be] forced, Marcelia ; and I live 
 To see those eyes I prize above my own, 
 Dart favours, though compell'd, upon an- 
 other ; 
 
 Or those sweet lips, yielding immortal nectar, 
 ' Be gently touch'd by any but myself ; 
 Think, think, Marcelia, 'what a cursed thing 
 I were, beyond expression ! 
 
 Marc. Do not feed 
 Those jealous thoughts ; the only blessing 
 
 that 
 Heaven hath bestow'd on us, more than on 
 
 beasts, 
 
 Is, that 'tis in our pleasure when to die. 
 Besides, were I now in another's power, 
 There are so many ways to let out life, 
 I would not live, for one short minute, his ; 
 I was born only yours, and I will die so. 
 Sfor. Angels reward the goodness of this 
 woman ! 
 
 Enter Francisco. 
 
 All I can pay is nothing. Why, uncall'd 
 for? 
 
 Fran. It is of weight, sir, that makes me < 
 
 thus press 
 
 Upon your privacies. Your constant friend, 
 The marquis of Pescara, tired with haste. 
 Hath business that concerns your life and 
 
 fortunes, 
 
 And with speed, to impart. 
 Sfor. Wait on him hither. 
 
 [Exit Francisco. 
 
 And, dearest, to thy closet. Let thy prayers 
 Assist my councils. 
 
 Marc. To spare imprecations 
 Against myself, without vou I am, nothing. 
 
 [Exit. 
 Sfor. The marquis of Pescara ! a" great 
 
 soldier ; 
 And, though he serv'd upon the adverse 
 
 party, 
 Ever my constant friend. 
 
 Re-enter Francisco with Pescara. 
 Fran. Yonder he walks, 
 
 Full of sad thoughts. 
 Pesc. Blame him not, good Francisco, 
 
 He hath much cause to grieve ; would I 
 might end so, 
 
 And not add this, to fear ! 
 Sfor. My dear Pescara ; 
 
 A miracle in these times ! a friend, and 
 happy, 
 
 Cleaves to a falling fortune ! 
 Pesc. If it were 
 
 As well in my weak power, in act, to raise it, 
 
 As 'tis to bear a part of sorrow with you, 
 
 You then should have just cause to say, 
 Pescara 
 
 Look'd not upon your state, but on your 
 virtues, 
 
 When he made suit to be writ in the list 
 
 Of those you favour'd. But my haste for- 
 bids' 
 
 All compliment ; thus, then, sir, to the pur- 
 pose : 
 
 The cause that, unattended, brought me 
 hither, 
 
 \Vas not to tell you of your loss, or danger ; 
 
 For fame hath many wings to bring ill 
 tidings, 
 
 And I presume you've heard it ; but to give 
 you 
 
 Such friendly counsel, as, perhaps, may make 
 
 Your sad disaster less. 
 
 Sfor. You are all goodness ; 
 
 And I give up myself to be disposed of, 
 
 As in your wisdom you think fit. 
 Pesc . Thus, then, sir : 
 
 To hope you can hold out against the em- 
 peror, 
 
 Were flattery in yourself, to your undoing : 
 
THE DUKE OF MILAN. 
 
 Therefore, the safest course that you can 
 
 take, 
 
 Is, to give up yourself to his discretion, 
 Before you be compell'd ; for, rest assured, 
 A voluntary yielding may find grace, 
 And will admit defence, at least, excuse : 
 But, should you linger doubtful, till his 
 
 powers 
 
 Have seized your person and estates perforce, 
 You must expect extremes. 
 Sfor. I understand you ; 
 And I will put your counsel into act, 
 And speedily. I only will take order 
 For some domestical affairs, that do 
 Concern me nearly, and with the next sun 
 Ride with you : in the mean time, my best 
 
 friend, 
 Pray take your rest. 
 
 Pesc. Indeed, I have travell'd hard ; 
 And will embrace your counsel. [Exit. 
 
 Sfor. With all care, 
 
 Attend my noble friend. Stay you, Francisco. 
 You see how things stand with me ? 
 
 Fran. To my grief : 
 And if the loss of my poor life could be 
 A sacrifice to restore them as they were, 
 I willingly would lay it down. 
 
 Sfor. I think so ; 
 
 For I have ever found you true and thank- 
 ful, 
 Which makes me love the building I have 
 
 raised 
 
 In your advancement ; and repent no grace 
 I have conferr'd upon you. And, believe me, 
 Though now I should repeat my favours to 
 
 you, 
 
 The titles I have given you, and the means 
 Suitable to your honours ; that I thought you 
 Worthy my sister and my family, 
 And in my dukedom made you next myself; 
 It is not to upbraid you ; but to tell you 
 I find you are worthy of them, in your love 
 And service to me. 
 
 Fran. Sir, I am your creature ; 
 And any shape, that you would have me 
 
 wear, 
 I gladly will put on. 
 
 Sfor. Thus, then, Francisco : 
 I now am to deliver to your trust 
 A weighty secret ; of so strange a nature, 
 And 'twill, I know, appear so monstrous to 
 
 you, , 
 
 That you will tremble in the execution, 
 As much as I am tortured to command it : 
 For 'tis a deed so horrid, that, but to hear it, 
 Would strike into a ruffian flesh'd in mur- 
 ders, 
 
 Or an obdurate hangman, soft compassion ; 
 And yet, Francisco, of all men the dearest, 
 
 And from me most deserving, such my state 
 And strange condition is, that thou alone 
 Must know the fatal service, and perform it. 
 
 Fran. These preparations, sir, to work a. 
 
 stranger, 
 
 Or to one unacquainted with your bounties. 
 Might appear useful ; but to me they are 
 Needless impertinencies : for I dare do 
 Whate'er you dare command. 
 
 Sfor. But you must swear it ; 
 And put into the oath all joys or torments 
 That fright the wicked, or confirm the good; 
 Not to conceal it only, that is nothing, 
 But, whensoe'er my will shall speak, Strike 
 
 now ! 
 To fall upon't like thunder. 
 
 Fran. Minister 
 
 The oath in any way or form you please, 
 I stand resolved to take it. 
 
 Sfor. Thou must do, then, 
 What no malevolent star will dare to look 
 
 on, 
 It is so wicked : for which men will curse 
 
 thee 
 For being the instrument ; and the blest 
 
 angels 
 
 Forsake me at my need, for being the au- 
 thor : 
 
 For 'tis a deed of night, of night, Francisco!: 
 In which the memory of all good actions 
 We can pretend to, shall be buried quick : 
 Or, if we be remember'd, it shall be 
 To iright posterity by our example, 
 That have outgone all precedents of villains 
 That were before us ; and such as succeed. 
 Though taught in hell's black school, shall'- 
 
 ne'er come near us. 
 Art thou not shaken yet ? 
 
 Fran. I grant you move me : 
 But to a man confirm'd 
 
 Sfor. I'll try your temper : 
 What think you of my wife ? 
 
 Fran. As a thing sacred ; 
 To whose fair name and memory I pay 
 
 gladly 
 These signs of duty. 
 
 Sfor. Is she not the abstract 
 Of all that's rare, or to be wish'd in woman ? 
 
 Fran. It were a kind of blasphemy to 
 
 dispute it : 
 But to the purpose, sir. 
 
 Sfor. Add too, her goodness, 
 Her tenderness of me, her care to please me. 
 Her unsuspected chastity, ne'er equal! 'd ; 
 Her innocence, her honour : O, I am lost 
 In the ocean of her virtues and her graces. 
 When I think of them ! 
 
 Fran. Now I find the end 
 Of all your conjurations ; there's some service 
 
THE DUKE OF MILAN. 
 
 To be done for this sweet lady. If she have 
 enemies, 
 
 That she would have removed 
 
 Sfor. Alas ! Francisco, 
 Her greatest enemy is her greatest lover ; 
 Yet, in that hatred, her idolater. 
 One smile of hers would make a savage 
 
 tame ; 
 One accent of that tongue would calm the 
 
 seas, 
 Though all the winds at once strove there 
 
 for empire. 
 
 Yet I, for whom she thinks all this too little, 
 Should I miscarry in this present journey, 
 From whence it is all number to a cipher, 
 I ne'er return with honour, by thy hand 
 Must have her murder'd. 
 
 Fran. Murder'd ! She that loves so, 
 And so deserves to be beloved again ! 
 And I, who sometimes you were pleased to 
 
 favour, 
 Pick'd out the instrument ! 
 
 Sfor. Do not fly off : 
 What is decreed can never be recall'd ; 
 'Tis more than love to her, that marks her 
 
 out 
 
 A wish'd companion to me in both fortunes : 
 And strong assurance of thy zealous faith, 
 That gives up to thy trust a secret, that 
 Racks should not have forced from me. O, 
 
 Francisco ! 
 
 There is no heaven without her ; nor a hell, 
 Where she resides. I ask from her but justice. 
 And what I would have paid to her, had 
 
 sickness, 
 
 Or any other accident, divorced 
 Her purer soul from her unspotted body. 
 The slavish Indian princes, when they die, 
 Are cheerfully attended to the fire, 
 By the wife and slave that, living, they loved 
 
 best, 
 
 To do them service in another world : 
 Nor will I be less honour'd, that love more. 
 And therefore trifle not, but, in thy looks, 
 Express a ready purpose to perform 
 What I command ; or, by Marcelia's soul, 
 This is thy latest minute. 
 
 Fran. 'Tis not fear 
 
 Of death, but love to you, makes me em- 
 brace it ; 
 
 But for mine own security, when 'tis done, 
 What warrant have I ? If you please to sign 
 
 one, 
 
 I shall, though with unwillingness and horror, 
 Perform your dreadful charge. 
 
 Sfor. I will, Francisco : 
 But still remember, that a prince's secrets 
 Are balm conceal'd ; but poison, if dis- 
 co ver'd. 
 
 I may come back ; then this is but a trial 
 To purchase thee, if it were possible, 
 A nearer place in my affection : but 
 I know thee honest. 
 
 Fran. 'Tis a character 
 I will not part with. 
 
 Sfor. I may live to reward it. \Exeunt. 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 SCENE I. The same. An open space 
 
 before the Castle. 
 Enter Tiberio and Stephano. 
 
 Steph. How ! left the court ? 
 
 Tib. Without guard or retinue E 
 Fitting a prince. 
 
 Steph. No enemy near, to force him 
 To leave his own strengths, yet deliver up 
 Himself, as 'twere, in bonds, to the discretion 
 Of him that hates him ! 'tis beyond example.^ 
 You never heard the motives that induced' 
 
 him 
 To this strange course ? 
 
 Tib. No, those are cabinet councils, 
 And not to be communicated, but 
 To such as are his own, and sure. Alas ! 
 We fill up empty places, and in public 
 Are taught to give our suffrages to that 
 Which was before determined ; and are 
 
 safe so. 
 
 Signior Francisco (upon whom alone 
 His absolute power is, with all strength, con- 
 
 ferr'd, 
 During his absence) can with ease resolve 
 
 you : 
 To me they are riddles. 
 
 Steph. Well, he shall not be 
 My CEdipus ; I'll rather dwell in darkness^ 
 But, my good lord Tiberio, this Francisco 
 Is, on the sudden, strangely raised. 
 
 Tib. O sir, 
 
 He took the thriving course ; he had a sister, 
 A fair one too, with whom, as it is rumour 'd, 
 The duke was too familiar ; but she, cast oft, 
 (What promises soever past between them,) 
 Upon the sight of this, forsook the court, 
 And since was never seen. To smother this, 
 As honours never fail to purchase silence, 
 Francisco first was graced, and, step by step, 
 Is raised up to this height. 
 
 Steph. But how is 
 His absence born ? 
 
 Tib. Sadly, it seems, by the dutchess ; 
 For since he left the court, 
 For the most part she hath kept her private 
 
 chamber, 
 
 No visitants admitted. In the church. 
 She hath been seen to pay her pure devotions, 
 
THE DUKE OF MILAN. 
 
 73 
 
 Season'd with tears ; and sure her sorrow's 
 
 true, 
 
 Or deeply counterfeited ; pomp, and state, 
 And bravery cast off : and she, that lately 
 Rivall'd Poppaea in her varied shapes, 
 Or the Egyptian queen, now, widow-like, 
 In sable colours, as her husband's dangers 
 Strangled in her the use of any pleasure, 
 Mourns for his absence. 
 
 Steph. It becomes her virtue, 
 ; And does confirm what was reported of her. 
 
 Tib. You take it right : but, on the other 
 
 side. 
 
 The darling of his mother, Mariana, 
 As there were an antipathy between 
 Her and the dutchess' passions ; and as 
 She'd no dependence on her brother's for- 
 tune, 
 She ne'er appear'd so full of mirth. 
 
 Steph. 'Tis strange. 
 
 Enter Graccho -with Fiddlers. 
 
 But see ! her favourite, and accompanied, 
 To your report. 
 
 drac. You shall scrape, and I will sing 
 A scurvy ditty to a scurvy tune, 
 Repine who dares. 
 
 i Fid. But if we should offend, 
 The dutchess having silenced us ; and these 
 
 lords 
 Stand by to hear us. 
 
 Grac. They in name are lords 
 But I am one in power : and, for the dutchess, 
 But yesterday we were merry for her pleasure, 
 We now '11 be for my lady's. 
 
 Tib. Signior Graccho. 
 
 Grac. A poor man, sir, a servant to the 
 
 princess ; 
 
 But you, great lords and counsellors of state, 
 Whom I stand bound to reverence. 
 
 Tib. Come ; we know 
 You are a man in grace. 
 
 Grac. Fie ! no : I grant, 
 I bear my fortunes patiently ; serve the 
 
 princess, 
 
 And have access at all times to her closet, 
 Such is my impudence ! when your grave 
 
 lordships 
 
 Are masters of the modesty to attend 
 Three hours, nay sometimes four ; and then 
 
 bid wait 
 Upon her the next morning. 
 
 Steph. He derides us. 
 
 Tib. Pray you, what news is stirring? 
 you know all. 
 
 Grac. Who, I ? alas ! I've no intelligence 
 At home nor abroad ; I only sometimes guess 
 The change of the times : I should ask of 
 your lordships, 
 
 Who are to keep their honours, who to lose 
 
 them ; 
 Who the dutchess smiled on last, or on 
 
 whom frown'd, 
 
 You only can resolve me ; we poor waiters 
 Deal, as you see, in mirth, and foolish fiddles : 
 It is our element ; and could you tell me 
 What point of state 'tis that I am commanded 
 To muster up this music, on mine honesty, 
 You should much befriend me. 
 Steph. Sirrah, you grow saucy. 
 Tib. And would be laid by the heels. 
 Grac. Not by your lordships, 
 Without a special warrant ; look to your 
 
 own stakes ; 
 Were I committed, here come those would 
 
 bail me : 
 Perhaps, we might change places too. 
 
 Enter Isabella, and Mariana ; Graccho 
 whispers the latter. 
 
 Tib. The princess ! 
 We must be patient. 
 
 Steph. There is no contending. 
 
 Tib. See, the informing rogue ! 
 
 Steph. That we should stoop 
 To such a mushroom ! 
 
 Mari. Thou dost mistake ; they durst not 
 Use the least word of scorn, although pro- 
 voked, 
 
 To anything of mine. Go, get you home, 
 And to your servants, friends, and flatterers, 
 
 number 
 How many descents you're noble : look to 
 
 your wives too ; 
 The smooth-chinned courtiers are abroad. 
 
 Tib. No way to be a freeman ! 
 
 \Exeunt Tiberio and Stephano. 
 
 Grac. Your Excellence hath the best gift 
 
 to dispatch 
 
 These arras pictures of nobility, 
 I ever read of. 
 
 Mari. I can speak sometimes. 
 
 Grac. And cover so your bitter pills with 
 
 sweetness 
 
 Of princely language to forbid reply, 
 They are greedily swallow'd. 
 
 Isab. But the purpose, daughter, 
 That brings us hither? Is it to bestow 
 A visit on this woman, that, because 
 She only would be thought truly to grieve 
 The absence and the dangers of my son, 
 Proclaims a general sadness ? 
 
 Mari. If to vex her 
 May be interpreted to do her *' irmr , 
 She shall have many of them. /Til make use 
 Of my short reign : my lord now governs all ; 
 And she shall know that her idolater, 
 
74 
 
 THE DUKE OF MILAN. 
 
 r~ *<^M 
 W^ 
 
 My brother, being not by now to protect her 
 I am her equal. 
 ""- Grac. Of a little thing, 
 It is so full of gall ! A devil of this size, 
 Should they run for a wager to be spiteful, 
 Gets not a horse-head of her. [Aside 
 
 Mari. On her birthday, 
 We were forced to be merry, and now she': 
 
 musty, 
 
 We must be sad, on pain of her displeasure 
 We will, we will ! this is her private chamber 
 Where, like an hypocrite, not a true turtle, 
 She seems to mourn her absent mate ; he: 
 
 servants 
 Attending her like mutes : but I'll speak t< 
 
 her, . 
 
 And in a high key too.-Play anything 
 ^That's light and loud enough but to tormeni 
 
 her, 
 And we will have rare sport. 
 
 [Music and a song, 
 
 Marcelia appears at a -window above, in 
 black. 
 
 Isab. She frowns as if 
 Her looks could fright us. 
 
 May it please your greatness, 
 
 that your late physic hath nol 
 work'd ; 
 And that breeds melancholy, as your doctor 
 
 tells us : 
 To purge which, we, that are born your 
 
 highness' vassals, 
 
 And are to play the fool to do you service, 
 Present you with a fit of mirth. What think 
 
 you 
 
 Of a new antic ? 
 
 Isc.b. 'Twould shew rare in ladies. 
 Mt<rl. Being intended for so sweet a 
 
 creature, 
 Were she but pleased to grace it. 
 
 Isab. Fie ! she will, 
 Be it ne'er so mean ; she's made of courtesy. 
 \_^ Mari. The mistress of all hearts. /One 
 
 smile, I pray you, f 
 
 On.yotir-poQr servants, or a fiddler's fee ; 
 Coming fromlhoseTalr hands, though but a 
 
 ducat, 
 ^ J jy e will enshrine it as a holy relic. 
 
 Isab. 'Tis wormwood, and it works. 
 i Marc. If I lay by 
 / My fears and griefs, in which you should be 
 M- sharers, 
 
 If doting age could let you but remember, 
 You have a son ; or frontless impudence, 
 You are a sister ; and, in making answer 
 To what was most unfit for you to speak, 
 
 Or me to hear, borrow of my just anger 
 
 Isab. A set speech, on my life. 
 
 A fart. Penn'd by her chaplain. 
 Marc. Yes, it can speak, without instruc- 
 tion speak, 
 And tell your want of manners, that you are 
 
 rude, 
 And saucily rude, too. 
 
 Grac. Now the game begins.. ^ - 
 
 Marc. You durst not, else, on any hire or 
 
 hope, 
 
 Remembering what I am, and whose I am, 
 Put on the desperate boldness, to disturb 
 The least of my retirements. 
 ~Mari. Note her, now. 
 Marc. For both shall understand, though 
 
 the one presume 
 
 Upon the privilege due to a mother, 
 The duke stands now on his own legs, and 
 
 needs 
 
 No nurse to lead him. 
 Isab. How, a nurse ! 
 Marc. A dry one, 
 
 And useless too : but I am merciful, 
 And dotage signs your pardon. 
 
 Isab. I defy thee ; 
 Thee, and thy pardons, proud one ! 
 
 Marc. For you, puppet 
 
 Mart. What of me, pine-tree ? 
 Marc. Little you are, I grant, 
 And have as little worth, but much less wit ; 
 You durst not else, the duke being wholly 
 
 mine, 
 
 His power and honour mine, and the alle- 
 giance, 
 
 You owe him as a subject, due to me 
 
 Mart. To you ? 
 
 Marc. To me : and therefore, as a vassal, 
 From this hour learn to serve me, or vou'll 
 
 feel 
 
 I must make use of my authority, 
 And, as a princess, punish it. 
 Isab. A princess ! 
 Mari. I had rather be a slave unto a. 
 
 Moor, 
 Than know thee for my equal. 
 
 Isab. Scornful thing ! 
 Proud of a white face. 
 
 Mari. Let her but remember 
 The issue in her leg. 
 
 Isab. The charge she puts 
 The state to, for perfumes. 
 Mari. And howsoe'er 
 he seems, when she's made up, as she's 
 
 herself, 
 She stinks above the ground. O that I 
 
 could reach you ! 
 The little one you scorn so, with her nails 
 Would tear your painted face, and scratch 
 
 those eyoo out. 
 Do but come down. 
 
THE DUKE OF MILAN. 
 
 75 
 
 \ Marc. Were there no other way, 
 
 Jut leaping on thy neck, to break my own, 
 
 tather than be outbraved thus. 
 
 \She retires. 
 Grac. Forty ducats 
 Jpon the little hen ; she's of the kind, 
 Ynd will not leave the pit. {Aside. 
 
 , Mari. That it were lawful 
 "o meet her with a poniard and a pistol ! 
 5ut these weak hands shall shew my spleen 
 
 Re-enter Marcelia below. 
 
 Marc. Where are you, 
 'on modicum, you dwarf ! 
 Mart. Here, giantess, here. 
 
 Enter Francisco, Tiberio, Stephano, and 
 Guards. 
 
 .JFran. A tumult in the court ! 
 ^Mari. Let her come on. 
 ~Tran. What wind hath raised tl)is tem- 
 pest? 
 ever them, I command you. What's the 
 
 cause ? 
 .peak, Mariana. 
 
 Mari. I am out of breath 
 kit we shall meet, we shall?} And do you 
 
 hear, sir ! <t 
 
 )r right me on this monster,((she's three feet 
 Too high for a woman, )^or ne'er look to have 
 ^ quiet hour with me. 
 
 Isab. If my son were here, 
 ind would endure this, may a mother's curse 
 5 ursue and overtake him ! 
 
 Fran. O forbear : 
 
 n me he's present, both in power and will ; 
 ^.nd, madam, I much grieve that, in his ab- 
 sence, 
 There should arise the least distaste to move 
 
 you; 
 
 !t being his principal, nay, only charge, 
 To have you in his absence, served and 
 
 honour' d, 
 
 As when himself perform 'd the willing office. 
 " Mari. This is fine, i' faith. 
 * Grac. I would I were well off ! 
 
 Fran. And therefore, I beseech you, 
 - madam, frown not, 
 Till most unwittingly he hath deserved it, 
 On your poor servant ; to your excellence 
 I ever was and will be such ; and lay 
 The duke's authority, trusted to me, 
 With willingness at your feet. 
 Alar 1. O base ! 
 Isab. We are like 
 To have an equal judge ! 
 
 Fran. But, should 1 find 
 That you are touch'd in any point of honour, 
 
 Or that the least neglect is fall'n upon you, 
 I then stand up a prince. 
 
 i Fid. Without reward, 
 Pray you dismiss us. 
 
 Grac. Would I were five leagues hence ! 
 
 Fran. I will be partial 
 To none, not to myself ; 
 Be you but pleased to shew me my offence, 
 Or if you hold me in your good opinion, ^ 
 Name those that have offended you. 
 
 Isab. I am one, 
 And I will justify it. 
 
 Mari. Thou art a base fellow, 
 To take her part. 
 
 Fran. Remember, she's the dutchess. 
 
 Marc. But used with more contempt, than 
 
 if I were 
 
 A peasant's daughter ; baited, and hooted at, 
 Like to a common strumpet ; with loud 
 
 noises 
 Forced from my prayers ; and my private 
 
 chamber, 
 Which with all willingness, I would make 
 
 my prison 
 
 During the absence of my lord, denied me : 
 But if he e'er return .. 
 
 Fran. Were you an actor 
 In this lewd comedy? 
 
 Mari. Ay, marry was I ; 
 And will be one again. 
 
 Isab. I'll join with her, 
 Though you repine at it. 
 
 Fran. Think not, then, I speak, 
 For I stand bound to honour, and to serve 
 
 you ; 
 But that the duke, that lives in this great 
 
 lady, 
 For the contempt of him in her, commands 
 
 you 
 To be close prisoners. 
 
 Isab. Mari. Prisoners ! 
 
 Fran. Bear them hence ; 
 This is your charge, my lord Tiberio, 
 And, Stephano, this is yours. 
 
 Marc. I am not cruel, 
 But pleased they may have liberty. 
 
 Isab. Pleased, with a mischiei ! 
 
 Mari. I'll rather live in any loathsome 
 
 dungeon, 
 Than in a paradise at her entreaty : 
 
 And, for you, upstart 
 
 Steph. There is no contending. 
 
 Tib. What shall become of these? 
 
 Fran. See them well whipp'd, 
 As you will answer it. 
 
 Tib. Now, signior Graccho, 
 What think you of your greatness ? 
 
 Grac. I preach patience, - 
 And must endure my fortune. 
 
 
 
d 
 
 THE DUKE OF MILAN. 
 
 i Fid. I was never yet 
 At such a hunt's-up, nor was so rewarded. 
 
 [Exeunt all but Francisco and Marcelia. 
 Fran. Let them first know themselves, 
 
 and how you are 
 To be served and honour'd ; which, when 
 
 they confess, 
 
 You may again receive them to your favour : 
 And then it will shew nobly. 
 
 Marc. With my thanks 
 The duke shall pay you his, if he return 
 To bless us with his presence. 
 f~Fran. There is nothing 
 /That can be added to your fair acceptance ; 
 That is the prize, indeed ; all else are blanks, 
 And of no value. As, in virtuous actions, 
 The undertaker finds a full reward, 
 Although conferr'd upon unthankful men ; 
 ^5o, any service done to so much sweetness, 
 
 However dangerous, and subject to 
 \ _An ill construction} in your favour finds 
 "A wish'd, and glorious end. 
 
 Marc. From you, I take this 
 As loyal duty ; but, in any other, 
 It would appear gross flattery. 
 
 Fran. Flattery, madam ! 
 You are so rare and excellent in all things, 
 And raised so high upon a rock of goodness, 
 As that vice cannot reach you ; who but 
 
 looks on 
 
 This temple, built by nature to perfection, 
 But must bow to it ; and out of that zeal, 
 Not only learn to adore it, but to love it ? 
 Marc. Whither will this fellow ? [Aside. 
 Fran. Pardon, therefore, madam, 
 If an excess in me of humble duty, 
 leach me to hope, and though it be not in 
 \The power of man to merit such a blessing, 
 A!V piety, for it is more than love, 
 May find reward. 
 
 Marc. You have it in my thanks ; 
 And, on my hand, I am pleased that you 
 
 shall take 
 
 A full possession of it : but, take heed 
 That you fix here, and feed no hope beyond 
 
 it ; 
 If you do, it will prove fatal. 
 
 Fran. Be it death, 
 And death with torments tyrants ne'er 
 
 found out, 
 Yet I must say, I love you. 
 
 Marc. As a subject ; 
 And 'twill become you. 
 
 Fran. Farewell, circumstance ! 
 And since you are not pleased to understand 
 
 me, 
 
 But by a plain and usual form of speech ; 
 All superstitious reverence laid by, 
 I love you as a man, and, as a man, 
 
 I would enjoy you. Why do you start, a 
 
 fly me ? 
 
 I am no monster, and you but a woman, 
 A woman made to yield, and by example 
 Told it is lawful : favours of this nature 
 Are, in our age, no miracles in the greates 
 
 And, therefore, lady 
 
 Marc. Keep off ! O you Powers ! 
 
 Libidinous beast ! and, add to that, u 
 
 thankful ! 
 A crime, which creatures \\anting reas< 
 
 fly from. 
 Are all the princely bounties, favoui 
 
 honours, 
 Which, with some prejudice to his ov 
 
 wisdom, 
 Thy lord and raiser hath conferr'd upc 
 
 thee, 
 In three days' absence buried ? Hath 1 
 
 made thee, 
 
 A thing obscure, almost without a name, 
 The envy of great fortunes ? Have I graa . 
 
 thee, 
 
 Beyond thy rank, and entertainjHhee, as 
 A friend, and not a servant ?/-an?[~is tl'usT 
 This impudent attempt ,to taint mil 
 
 honour, / 
 
 The fair return of both our ventured favour 
 
 Fran. Hear my excuse. 
 
 Marc. The devil may plead mefcy, 
 And, with as much assurance, as thbu vie! 
 
 one. 
 
 Burns lust so hot in thee ? or is thy pride 
 Grown up to such a height, that, but 
 
 princess, 
 
 Xo woman can content thee ; and, add to it 
 His wife and princess, to whom thpu art tiec 
 In all the bonds of dutyP-^ReaoT'myTiife; 
 And find one act of mine so loosely carried, 
 That could invite a most self-loving fool, 
 Set off with all that fortune could throw on 
 
 him, 
 
 To the least hope to find way to my favour; 
 And what's the worst mine enemies c<xn7R 
 
 wish me, 
 I'll be thy strumpet. 
 
 Fran. Tis acknowledged, madam, 
 That your whole course of life hath been a 
 
 pattern 
 For chaste and virtuous women. In your 
 
 beauty, 
 Which I first saw, and loved, as a fair 
 
 crystal, 
 
 I read' your heavenly mind, clear and un- 
 tainted ; 
 And while the duke did prize you to your 
 
 value, 
 
 Could it have been in man to pay that duty, 
 I well might envy him, but durst not hope 
 
THE DUKE OF MILAN. 
 
 To stop you in your full career of goodness: 
 But now I find that he's fall'n from his for- 
 tune, 
 
 And, howsoever he would appear doting, 
 Grown cold in his affection ; I presume, 
 From his most barbarous neglect of you, 
 To offer my true service. Nor stand I 
 
 bound, 
 
 I To look back on the courtesies of him, 
 That, of all living men, is most unthankful. 
 Marc. Unheard-of impudence ! 
 Fran. You'll say I am modqst, 
 When I have told the story. Can he tax 
 - ' me, 
 That have received some worldly trifles 
 
 from him, 
 For being ungrateful ; when he, that first 
 
 tasted, ' 
 
 And hath so long enjoy'd, your sweet em- 
 braces, 
 
 . In which all blessings that our frail condition 
 1 Is capable of, are wholly comprehended, 
 As cloy'd with happiness, contemns the 
 
 giver 
 
 Of his felicity ; and, as he reach 'd not 
 The masterpiece of mischief which he aims 
 
 at, 
 /Unless he pay those favours he stands bound 
 
 to, 
 'With fell ,and deadly hate ! You think he 
 
 loves 'you - 
 
 With unexampled fervour; nay, dotes on 
 
 you, 
 As there were something in you more than 
 
 woman : 
 When, on my knowledge, he long since 
 
 hath wish'd 
 You were among the dead ; and I, you 
 
 scorn so, 
 Perhaps, am your preserver. 
 
 Marc. Bless me, good angels, 
 Or I am blasted ! Lies so false and wicked, 
 And fashion'd to so damnable a purpose, 
 Cannot be spoken by a human tongue. 
 My husband hate me ! give thyself the lie, 
 False and accurs'd ! Thy soul, if thou hast 
 
 any, 
 
 Can witness, never lady stood so bonnd 
 To the unfeign'd affection of her lord, 
 As I do to my Sforza. If thou wouldst work 
 Upon my weak credulity, tell me, rather, 
 That the earth moves; the sun and stars 
 
 stand still ; 
 The ocean keeps nor floods nor ebbs ; or 
 
 that 
 There's peace between the lion and the 
 
 lamb ; 
 
 Or that the ravenous eagle and the dove 
 Keep in one aerie, and bring up their young ; 
 
 Or anything that is averse to nature : 
 And I will sooner credit it, than that 
 My lord can think of me, but as a jewel, 
 He loves more than himself, and all the 
 
 world. 
 Fran. O innocence abused ! simplicity 
 
 cozen'd ! 
 
 It were a sin, for which we have no name, 
 To keep you longer in this wilful error. 
 Read his affection here ; \Givesher afapcr. J 
 
 and then observe 
 
 How dear he holds you ! 'Tis his character, 
 
 Which cunning yet could never counterfeit. 
 
 Marc. 'Tis his hand, I'm resolv'd of it. 
 
 I'll try 
 
 What the inscription is. 
 Fran. Pray you, do so. 
 
 Marc, [reads.] You know my pleasure, 
 and the hour of Marcelia s death, -which fait 
 not to execute, as you will answer the con- 
 trary, not with your head alone, but with 
 the ruin of your whole family. And this, 
 written with mine own hand, and signed 
 with my privy signet, shall be your sufficient 
 warrant. 
 
 LODOVICO SFORZA. 
 
 I do obey it ! every word's a poniard, 
 
 And reaches to my heart. \Swoons. 
 
 Fran. What have I done? 
 Madam ! for heaven's sake, madam ! O my 
 
 fate! 
 
 I'll bend her body : this is yet some pleasure : 
 I'll kiss her into a new life. Dear lady ! 
 She stirs. For the duke's sake, for Sforza 's 
 
 sake 
 
 Marc. Sforza's ! stand off ; though dead, 
 
 I will be his, 
 
 And even my ashes shall abhor the touch 
 Of any other. O unkind, and cruel ! 
 Learn, women, learn to trust in one another r 
 There is no faith in man : Sforza is false, 
 False to Marcelia ! 
 
 Fran. But I am true, V 
 And live to make you happy, i All the pomp. 
 State, and observance you had, being his, 
 Compared to what you shall enjoy, when 
 
 mine, 
 Shall be no more remember 'd. Lose his 
 
 memory, 
 And look with cheerful beams on your new 
 
 creature ; 
 And know, what he hath plotted for your 
 
 good, 
 
 Fate cannot alter. If the emperor 
 Take not his life, at his return he dies. 
 And by my hand : my wife, that is his heir, 
 Shall quickly follow : then we reign alone ! 
 

 THE DUKE OF MILAN. 
 
 For with this drm I'll swim through seas of 
 
 blood, 
 Or make a bridge, arch'd with the bones of 
 
 men, 
 
 But I will grasp my aims in you, my dearest, 
 Dearest, and best of women ! 
 Marc. Thou art a villain ! 
 All attributes of arch- villains made into one, 
 Cannot express thee,/ I prefer the hate 
 ~Of StorzaT, though it mark me for the grave, 
 Before thy base affection. I am yet 
 Pure and unspotted in my true love to him ; 
 Nor shall it be corrupted, though he's 
 
 tainted : 
 
 Nor will I part with innocence, because 
 He is found guilty. For thyself, thou art 
 A tiling, that, equal with the devil himself, 
 I do detest and scorn. 
 
 Fran. Thou, then, art nothing : 
 Thy life is in my power, disdainful woman ! 
 Think on't, and tremble. 
 
 Marc. No, though thou wert now 
 To play thy hangman's part. Thou well 
 
 may'st be 
 
 My executioner, and art only fit 
 For such employment ; but ne'er hope to have 
 The least grace from me. I will never see 
 
 thee, , 
 
 JUit as the shame of men : so, with my curses 
 Of horror to thy conscience in this life, 
 And pains in hell hereafter, I spit at thee ; 
 And, making haste to make my peace with 
 
 heaven, 
 Expect thee as my hangman. \Exit. 
 
 Fran. I am lost 
 
 In the discovery of this fatal secret. 
 Cursd hope, that flatter'd me, that wrongs 
 
 could make her 
 
 A stranger to her goodness ! all my plots 
 Turn back upon myself ; but I am in, 
 And must go on : and, since I have put off 
 From the shore of innocence, guilt be now 
 
 my pilot ! 
 Revenge first wrought me ; murder's his 
 
 twin brother : 
 
 One deadly sin, then, help to cure another ! 
 
 \Rxit. 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 SCENE I. The Imperial Camp, before 
 
 Pavia. 
 Enter Medina, Hernando, and Alphonso. 
 
 Mcd. The spoil, the spoil ! 'tis that the 
 
 soldier fights for. 
 
 Our victory, as yet, affords us nothing 
 But wounds and empty honour. We have 
 
 poss'd 
 
 The hazard of a dreadful day, and forced \ 
 A passage with our swords through all the 1 
 
 dangers 
 
 That, page-like, wait on the success of war ; 
 And now expect reward. 
 
 Hern. Hell put in 
 The enemy's mind to be desperate, and hold 
 
 out ! 
 
 Yieldings and compositions will undo us ; 
 And what is that way giverjUJQrthe most part, 
 Comes to the emperor's'coffersTtcrtlefray "*\ , 
 The charge of the great action, as 'tis ru-| 
 
 mour'd 
 When, usually, some thing in grace, that 
 
 ne'er heard 
 The cannon's roaring tongue, but at a t 
 
 umph, 
 
 Puts in, and for his intercession shares,. 
 All that we fought for ; the poor so!3ier left 
 To starve, or fill up hospitals. 
 
 Alph. But, when 
 
 We enter towns by force, and carve our- 
 selves, ^ 
 
 Pleasure with pillage./'and the richest wines 
 Open our shrunk-up veins, and pour into 
 
 them 
 
 New blood and fervour 
 Mcd. I long to be at it ; 
 
 To see these chuffs, that every day may 
 
 spend 
 
 A soldier's entertainment for a year, 
 Yet make a third meal of a bunch of raisins ; 
 These sponges, that suck up a kingdom's 
 
 fat, 
 Battening like scarabs in the dung of 
 
 peace, 
 To be squeezed out by the rough hand of 
 
 war ; 
 And all that their whole lives have heap'd 
 
 together, 
 
 By cozenage, perjury, or sordid thrift, 
 With one gripe to be ravish'd. 
 
 Hern. \ would be tousing 
 Their fair madonas, that in little dogs, 
 Monkeys, and paraquittos, consume thou- 
 sands ; 
 
 Yet, for the advancement of a noble action, 
 Repine to part with a poor piece of eight : 
 War's plagues upon them ! I have seen 
 
 them stop 
 Their scornful noses first, then seem to 
 
 swoon, 
 
 At sight of a buff jerkin, if it were not 
 Perfumed, and hid with gold : yet these 
 
 nice wantons, 
 
 Spurr'd on by lust, cover'd in some dL^ 
 To meet some rough court -stallion, aod be 
 
 leap'd, 
 | Durst enter into any common brothel, 
 
THE DUKE OF MILAN. 
 
 Though all varieties of stink contend there ; 
 Yet praise the entertainment. 
 
 .}fed. I may live 
 
 To see the tatter 'd'st rascals of my troop 
 Drag them out of their closets, with a ven- 
 geance ! 
 
 When neither threat 'ning, flattering, kneel- 
 ing, howling, 
 
 Can ransome one poor jewel, or redeem 
 Themselves, from their blunt wooing. 
 -^ Hern. My main hope is, 
 To begin the sport at Milan : there's enough, 
 And of all kinds of pleasure we can wish for, 
 To satisfy the most covetous. 
 
 Alph. Every day 
 We "look for a remove. 
 
 A fed. For Lodowick Sforza, 
 The duke of Milan, I, on mine own know- 
 ledge, 
 
 Can say thus much : he is too much a soldier, 
 Too confident of his own worth, too rich 
 
 too, 
 And understands too well the emperor hates 
 
 him, 
 To hope for composition. 
 
 Alph. On my life, 
 We need not fear his coming in. 
 
 Hern. On mine,) 
 
 I do not wish it : t I had rather that, 
 Trjrghew his valou'r, he'd put us to the trouble 
 To fetch him in by the ears. 
 
 Med. The emperor! 
 
 Flourish. Enter Charles, Pescara, and 
 Attendants. 
 
 Charl. You make me wonder : nay, it is 
 
 no counsel, 
 You may partake it, gentlemen : who'd have 
 
 thought, 
 
 That he, that scorn'd our proffer'd amity 
 When he was sued to, should, ere he be 
 
 summon'd, 
 
 (Whether persuaded to it by base fear, 
 Or flatter'd by false hope, which, 'tis uncer- 
 tain,) 
 First kneel for mercy? 
 
 Med. When your majesty 
 Shall please to instruct us who it is, we may 
 Admire it with you. 
 
 Charl. Who, but the duke of Milan, 
 The right hand of the French ! of all that 
 
 stand 
 
 In our displeasure, whom necessity 
 Compels to seek our favour, I would have 
 
 sworn 
 Sforza had been the last. 
 
 Hern. And should be writ so, 
 In the list of those you pardon. Would his 
 
 city 
 
 Had rather held us out a siege, like Troy, 
 Than, by a feign'd submission, he should 
 
 cheat you 
 
 Of a just revenge ; or us, of those fair glories 
 We have sweat blood to purchase ! 
 
 Med. With your honour 
 You cannot hear him. 
 
 Alph. The sack alone of Milan 
 Will pay the army. 
 
 Charl. I am not so weak, 
 To be wrought on, as you fear ! nor ignorant 
 That money is the sinew of the war ; 
 And on what terms soever he seek peace, 
 'Tis in our power to grant it, or deny it : 
 Yet, for our glory, and to shew him that 
 We've brought him on his knees, it is re- 
 solved 
 
 To hear him as a suppliant. Bring him in ; 
 But let him see the effects of our just anger, 
 In the guard that you make for him. 
 
 [Exit Pescara. 
 
 Hern. I am now 
 
 Familiar with the issue ; all plagues on it ! 
 He will appear in some dejected habit, 
 His countenance suitable, and, for his order, 
 A rope about his neck : then kneel and tell 
 Old stories, what a worthy thing it is 
 To have the power, and not to use it ; then 
 
 add to that 
 
 A tale of king Tigranes, and great Pompey, 
 Who said, forsooth, and wisely ! 'twas more 
 
 honour 
 
 To make a king than killone ; which, applied 
 To the emperor, and himself, a pardon's 
 
 granted 
 
 To him an enemy ; and we, his servants, 
 Condemn'd to 'beggary. {Aside to Med. 
 
 Med. Yonder he comes ; 
 But not as you expected. 
 
 Re-enter Pescara with Sforza, strongly 
 guarded. 
 
 Alph. He looks as if 
 He would outface his dangers. 
 
 Hern. I am cozen 'd : 
 A suitor, in the devil's name ! 
 Med. Hear him speak. 
 Sfor. I come not, emperor, to invade thy 
 
 mercy, 
 
 By fawning on thy fortune ; nor bring with me 
 Excuses, or denials. I profess, 
 And with a good man's confidence, even 
 
 this instant 
 
 That I am in thy power, I was thine enemy ; 
 Thy deadly and vow'd enemy : one that 
 
 wish'd 
 
 Confusion to thy person and estates ; 
 And witli my utmost powers, and deepest 
 counsels, 
 
THE DUKE OF MILAN. 
 
 Had they been truly follow'd, further'd it. 
 Nor will I now, although my neck were under 
 The hangman's axe, with one poor syllable 
 Confess, but that I honour 'd the French king, 
 More than thyself, and all men. 
 
 Med. By Saint Jacques, 
 This is no flattery. 
 
 Hern. There is fire and spirit in't ; 
 But not long-lived, I hope, 
 
 Sfor. Now give me leave, 
 My hate against thyself, and love to him 
 Freely acknowledged, to give up the reasons 
 That make me so affected : In my wants 
 I ever found him faithful ; had supplies 
 Of men and monies from him ; and my 
 
 hopes, 
 Quite sunk, were, by his grace, buoy'd up 
 
 again ; 
 
 He was, indeed, to me, as my good angel 
 To guard me from all dangers. I dare speak, 
 Nav, must and will, his praise now, in as 
 
 'high 
 
 And loud a key, as when he was thy equal. 
 The benefits he sow'd in me, met not 
 Unthankful ground, but yielded him his own 
 With fair increase, and I still glory in it. 
 And, though my fortunes, poor, compared 
 ^ to his, 
 And Milan, weigh'd with France, appear as 
 
 nothing, 
 
 Are in thy fury burnt, let it be mention'd, 
 They served but as small tapers to attend 
 The solemn flame at this great funeral ; 
 And with them I will gladly waste myself, 
 Rather than undergo the imputation 
 Of being base, or unthankful. 
 
 A Iph. Nobly spoken! 
 
 Hern. I do begin, I know not why, to 
 
 hate him 
 Less than I did. 
 
 Sfor. If that, then, to be grateful 
 For courtesies received, or not to leave 
 A friend in his necessities, be a crime 
 Amongst you Spaniards, which other nations 
 That, like you, aim'd at empire, loved, and 
 
 cherish d 
 
 Where'er they found it, Sforza brings his head 
 To pay the forfeit. Nor come I as a slave, 
 Pinion'd and fetter'd, in a squalid weed, 
 Falling before thyfeet, kneeling and howling, 
 For a forestall'd remission : that were poor, 
 And would but shame thy victory ; for con- 
 quest 
 
 Over base foes, is a captivity, 
 And not a triumph. I ne'er feared to die, 
 More than I wish'd to live. When I had 
 
 reach'd 
 
 My ends in being a duke, I wore these robes, 
 This crown upon my head, and to my side 
 
 This sword was girt ; and witness truth, 
 
 that, now 
 
 'Tis in another's power, when I shall part 
 With them and life together, I'm the same : 
 My veins then did not swell with pride ; 
 
 nor now 
 Shrink they for fear. Know, sir, that Sforza 
 
 stands 
 Prepared for either fortune. 
 
 Hern. As I live, 
 
 I do begin strangely to love this fellow ; -^ 
 And could part with three quarters of my ' 
 
 share in 
 The promised spoil, to save him. 
 
 Sfor. But, if example 
 
 Of my fidelity to the French, whose honours, 
 Titles, and glories, are now mix'd with yours, 
 As brooks, devour'd by rivers, lose their., 
 
 names, 
 Has power to invite you to make him a 
 
 friend, 
 That hath given evident proof he knows to 
 
 love, 
 And to be thankful : this my crown, now 
 
 yours, f** . 
 
 You may restore me," ; and in me instruct y 
 These brave commahders, should your fofr- 
 
 tune change, 
 Which now I wish not, what they may 
 
 expect 
 
 From noble enemies, for being faithful. ; 
 
 The charges of the war I will defray, 
 And, what you may, not without hazard, 1 ! 
 
 force, 
 
 Bring freely to you : I'll prevent the cries 
 Of murder'd infants, and of ravish'd maids, I 
 Which in a city sack'd, call on heaven's 
 
 justice, 
 
 And stop the course of glorious victories : Y\ 
 And, when I know the captains and the \ 
 
 soldiers, 
 
 That have in the late battle done best service, J 
 And are to be rewarded, I myself, 
 According to their quality and merits, 
 Will see them largely recompensed. I have 
 
 said, 
 And now expect my sentence. 
 
 A Iph. By this light, - 
 Tis a brave gentleman. 
 
 Med. How like a block 
 The emperor sits ! 
 
 Hern. He hath deliver'd reasons, 
 Especially in his purpose to enrich 
 Such as fought bravely, (I myself am one, 
 I care not who knows it,) as I wonder that 
 He can be so stupid. Now he begins to stir : 
 Mercy, an't be thy will ! 
 
 Charl. Thou hast so far 
 Outgone my expectation, noble Sforza, 
 
THE DUKE OF MILAN. 
 
 Sr 
 
 For such I hold thee ; and true constancy, 
 Raised on a brave foundation, bears such 
 
 palm 
 
 And privilege with it, that where we be- 
 hold it, 
 
 Though in an enemy, it does command us i 
 To love and honour it. By my future hopes, ] 
 I am glad for thy sake, that in seeking favour, , 
 Thou did'st not borrow of vice her indirect, j 
 Crooked, and abject meansj and for mine j 
 
 own, 
 That, since my purposes must now be 
 
 changed 
 Touching thy life and fortunes, the world 
 
 cannot 
 
 Tax me of levity in my settled counsels ; 
 I being neither wrought by tempting bribes, 
 Nor servile flattery ; but forced into it 
 By a fair war of virtue. 
 Hern. This sounds well. 
 Char I. All former passages of hate be 
 
 buried : 
 
 For thus with open arms I meet thy love, 
 And as a friend embrace it ; 'and so far 
 I am from robbing thee of the least honour, 
 That with my hands, to make it sit the faster, 
 I set thy crown once more upon thy head ; 
 And do not only style thee, Duke of Milan, 
 But vow to keep thee so. Yet, not to take 
 From others to give only to myself, 
 I will not hinder your magnificence 
 To my commanders, neither will I urge it ; 
 But in that, as in all things else, I leave you 
 To be your own disposer. 
 
 [Flourish. Exit -with A ttendants. 
 Sfor. May I live 
 
 b seal my loyalty, though with loss of life, 
 In some brave service worthy Caesar's favour, 
 
 I shall die most happy ! Gentlemen, 
 Receive me to your loves ; and, if henceforth 
 There can arise a difference between us, 
 It shall be in a noble emulation 
 Who hath the fairest sword, or dare go 
 
 farthest, 
 
 To fight for Charles the emperor. 
 ~ Hern. We embrace you, 
 As one well read in all the points of honour : 
 And there we are your scholars. 
 
 Sfor. True ; but such 
 As far outstrip the master. We'll contend 
 Ln love hereafter : in the meantime, pray you, 
 Let me discharge my debt, and, as an earnest 
 Of what's to come, divide this cabinet : 
 In the small body of it there are jewels 
 Will yield a hundred thousand pistolets, 
 "Which honour me to receive. 
 Med. You bind us to you. 
 Sfor. And when great Charles commands 
 
 me to his presence, 
 
 If you will please to excuse my abrupt de- 
 parture, 
 Designs that most concern me, next this 
 
 mercy, 
 
 Calling me home, I shall hereafter meet you, 
 And gratify the favour. 
 
 Hern. In this, and all things, 
 We are your servants. 
 
 Sfor. A name I ever owe you. 
 
 [Exeunt Medina, Hernando, and 
 
 Alphonso. 
 
 Pesc. So, sir ; this tempest is well over- 
 blown, 
 
 And all things fall out to our wishes : but, 
 In my opinion, this quick return, 
 Before you've made a party in the court 
 Among the great ones, (for these needy 
 
 captains 
 Have little power in peace,) may beget 
 
 danger, 
 At least suspicion. 
 
 Sfor. Where true honour lives, 
 Doubt hath no being : I desire no pawn 
 Beyond an emperor's word, for my assurance. 
 Besides, Pescara, to thyself, of all men, 
 I will confess my weakness : though my 
 
 state 
 And crown's restored me, though I am in 
 
 grace, 
 
 And that a little stay might be a step 
 To greater honours, I must hence. Alas ! 
 I live not here ; my wife, my wife, Pescara, 
 Being absent, I am dead. Prithee, excuse, 
 And do not chide, for friendship's sake, my 
 
 fondness, 
 
 But ride along with me ; I'll give you reasons, i 
 And strong ones, to plead for me. 
 
 Pesc. Use your own pleasure ; 
 I'll bear you company, 
 
 Sfor. Farewell, grief ! I am stored with 
 Two blessings most desired in human life, 
 A constant friend, an unsuspected wife. 
 
 [Exeunt. \ 
 
 SCENE II. Milan. A Room in the Castle. I 
 
 Enter an Officer ivith Graccho. 
 Offic . What I did, I had warrant for ; you 
 
 have tasted 
 My office gently, and for those soft strokes, 
 Flea-bitings to the jerks 1 could have lent 
 
 you, 
 There does belong a feeing. 
 
 Grac. Must I pay 
 For being tormented, and dishonour 'd? 
 
 Offic. Fie ! no, 
 Your honour's not p impair'd in't. What's the 
 
 letting out 
 
 Of a little corrupt blood, and the next way 
 too? 
 
 G 
 
THE DUKE OF MILAN. 
 
 There is no surgeon like me, to take off 
 A courtier's itch that's rampant at great 
 
 ladies, 
 Or turns knave for preferment, or grows 
 
 proud 
 Of his rich cloaks and suits, though got by 
 
 brokage, 
 And so forgets his betters. 
 
 Grac. Very good, sir : 
 But am I the first man of quality 
 That e'er came under your fingers? 
 
 Offic. Not by a thousand ; 
 And they have' said I have a lucky hand too : 
 Both men and women of all sorts'have bow'd 
 Under this sceptre. I have had a fellow 
 That could endite, forsooth, and make fine 
 
 metres 
 
 To tinkle in the ears of ignorant madams, 
 That, for defaming of great men, was sent 
 
 me 
 Threadbare and lousy, and in three days 
 
 after, 
 Discharged by another that set him on. I 
 
 have seen him 
 
 Cap a pie gallant, and his stripes wash'd off 
 With oil of angels. 
 
 Grac. 'Twas a sovereign cure. 
 
 Offic . There was a sectary too, that would 
 
 not be 
 
 Conformable to the orders of the church, 
 Nor yield to any argument of reason, 
 But still rail at authority, brought to me, 
 When I had worm'd his tongue, and truss'd 
 
 his haunches, 
 
 Grew a fine pulpit man, and was beneficed : 
 Had he not cause to thank me ? 
 
 Grac. There was physic 
 Was to the purpose. 
 
 Offic. Now, for women, sir, 
 For your more consolation, I could tell you 
 Twenty fine stories, but I'll end in one, 
 And 'tis the last that's memorable. 
 
 Grac. Prithee, do ; 
 For I grow weary of thee. 
 Offic. There was lately 
 A fine she-waiter in the court, that doted 
 Extremely of a gentleman, that had 
 His main dependence on a signior's favour 
 I will not name, but could not corn-pass him 
 On any terms. This wanton, at dead mid- 
 night, 
 
 Was found at the exercise behind the arras, 
 With the 'foresaid signior : he got clear off, 
 But she was seized on, and, to save his 
 
 honour, 
 Endured the lash ; and, though I made her 
 
 often 
 
 Curvet and caper, she would never tell 
 Who play'd at pushpin with her. 
 
 Grac. But what follow'd ? 
 Prithee be brief. 
 
 Offic. Why this, sir : She delivered, 
 Had store of crowns assign'd her by her 
 
 patron, 
 
 Who forced the gentleman, to save her credit, 
 To marry her, and say he was the party 
 Found in Lob's pound : so she, that, before, 
 
 gladly 
 Would have been his whore, reigns o'er him 
 
 as his wife ; 
 Nor dares he grumble at it. Speak but 
 
 truth, then, 
 ; Is not my office lucky ? 
 
 Grac. Go, there's for thee ; 
 j But what will be my fortune ? 
 
 Offic. If you thrive not 
 > After that soft correction, come again. 
 Grac. I thank you, knave. 
 Offic. And then, knave, I will fit you. 
 
 Grac. Whipt like a rogue ! no lighter 
 
 punishment serve 
 
 ! To balance with a little mirth ! 'Tis well ; 
 My credit sunk for ever, I am now 
 Fit company only for pages and for footboys. 
 That have perused the porter's lodge. 
 
 Enter Julio and Giovanni. 
 
 Giov. See, Julio, 
 Yonder the proud slave is. How he looks 
 
 now, 
 After his castigation ! 
 
 Jtil. As he came 
 j From a close fight at sea under the hatches, 
 ! With a she-Dunkirk, that was shot before 
 I Between wind and water ; and he hatl 
 
 sprung a leak too, 
 1 Or I am cozen'd. 
 
 Giov. Let's be merry with him. 
 
 Grac . How they stare at me ! am I turn'd 
 
 to an owl ? 
 The wonder, gentlemen ? 
 
 Jul. I read, this morning, 
 Strange stories of the passive fortitude 
 i Of men in former ages, which I thought 
 < Impossible, and not to be believed : 
 ! But now I look on you, my wonder ceases. 
 Grac. The reason, sir ? 
 Jul. Why, sir, you have been whipt, 
 Whipt, signior Graccho ; and the whip, I 
 
 take it, 
 
 Is to a gentleman, the greatest trial 
 That may be of his patience. 
 
 Grac. Sir, I'll call you 
 To a strict account for this. 
 
 Giov. I'll not deal with you, 
 Unless I have a beadle for my second ; 
 And then I'll answer you. 
 
THE DUKE OF MILAN. 
 
 Jut. Farewell, poor Graccho. 
 
 [Exeunt Julio and Giovanni. 
 Grac. Better and better still. If ever 
 
 wrongs 
 
 Could teach a wretch to find the way to 
 vengeance, 
 
 Enter Francisco and a Servant. 
 
 Hell now inspire me ! How, the lord pro- 
 tector ! 
 My judge ; I thank him ! Whither thus in 
 
 private ? 
 I will not see him. [Stands aside. 
 
 Fran. If I am sought for, 
 Say I am indisposed, and will not hear 
 Or suits, or suitors. 
 
 Serv. But, sir, if the princess 
 Enquire, what shall I answer? 
 
 Fran. Say, I am rid 
 Abroad to take the air ; but by no means 
 Let her know I'm in court. 
 
 Serv. So I shall tell her. [Exit. 
 
 Fran. Within there, ladies ! 
 
 Enter a Gentlewoman. 
 
 Genilew. My good lord, your pleasure ? 
 Fran. Prithee, let me beg thy favour for 
 
 access 
 To the dutchess. 
 
 Genilew. In good sooth, my lord, I dare 
 
 not ; 
 She's very private. 
 
 Fran. Come, there's gold to buy thee 
 /A new gown, and a rich one. 
 
 Gentlew. I once swore 
 If e'er I lost my maidenhead, it should be 
 With a great lord, as you are ; and, I know 
 
 not how, 
 
 I feel a yielding inclination in me, 
 If you have appetite. 
 ^ Fran. Pox on, thy maidenhead ! 
 Wfiere is thy lady? 
 
 Gentlew. If you venture on her, 
 She's walking in the gallery ; perhaps, 
 vYou will find her less tractable. 
 
 Fran. Bring me to her. 
 s^TZentleiv. I fear, you'll have cold entertain- 
 ment, when 
 You are at your journey's end ; and 'twere 
 
 discretion 
 To take a snatch by the way. 
 
 Fran. Prithee, leave fooling : 
 My page waits in the lobby ; give him sweet- 
 meats ; 
 
 He is train'd up for his master's ease, 
 And he will cool thee. 
 
 [Exeunt Fran, and Gentlew. 
 
 Grac. A brave discovery beyond my hope, 
 
 A plot even ofter'd to my hand to work on ! 
 
 If I am dull now, may I live and die 
 
 The scorn of worms and slaves ! Let me ! 
 
 consider : 
 
 My lady and her mother first committed, 
 In the favour of the dutchess ; and I whipt ! 
 That, with an iron pen, is writ in brass 
 On my tough heart, now grown a harder ' 
 
 metal. 
 
 And all his bribed approaches to the dutchess 
 Tobeconceal'd ! good, good. This to my lady 
 Deliver'd, as I'll order it, runs her mad. 
 But this may prove but courtship ! let it be, 
 I care not, so it feed her jealousy. [Exit. 
 
 c, 
 
 " 
 
 SCENE III. Another Room in the same. 
 Enter Marcelia and Francisco. 
 
 Marc. Believe thy tears or oaths ! can it 
 
 be hoped, 
 
 After a practice so abhorr'd and horrid, 
 Repentance e'er can find thee ? 
 
 Fran. Dearest lady, 
 Great in your fortune, greater in your good- | 
 
 ness, 
 
 Make a superlative of excellence, 
 In being greatest in your saving mercy. 
 I do confess, humbly confess my fault, 
 To be beyond all pity ; my attempt 
 So barbarously rude, that it would turn 
 A saint-like patience into savage fury. - 
 But you, that are all innocence and virtue. 
 No spleen or anger in you of a woman, 
 But when a holy zeal to piety fires you, 
 May, if you please, impute the fault toJove r .! 
 Or call it beastly lust, for 'tis no better. : 
 A sin, a monstrous sin ! yet with it many 
 That did prove good men after, have been \ 
 
 tempted ; 
 And, though I'm crooked now, 'tis in your ; 
 
 power 
 To make me straight again^ 
 
 Marc. Is't possible 
 This can be cunning ! {Aside. ', 
 
 Fran. But, if no submission, 
 Nor prayers can appease you, that you may ' 
 
 know 
 Tis not the fear of death that makes me sue 
 
 thus, 
 
 But a loath'd detestation of my madness, 
 Which makes me wish to live to have your 
 
 pardon ; 
 
 I will not wait the sentence of the duke, 
 Since his return is doubtful, but I myself 
 Will do a fearful justice on myself, 
 No witness by but you, there being no more 
 When I offended. Yet, beiore I do it, 
 For I perceive in you no signs of mercy, 
 I will disclose a secret, which dying with me, 
 May prove your ruin. 
 
 G2 
 
8 4 
 
 THE DUKE OF MILAN. 
 
 Marc. Speak it ; it will take from 
 The burthen of thy conscience. 
 
 Fran. Thus, then, madam ; 
 The warrant by my lord sign'd for your 
 
 death, 
 
 Was but conditional ; but you must swear 
 By your unspotted truth, not to reveal it, 
 Or I end here abruptly. 
 
 Marc. By my hopes 
 Of joys hereafter. On. 
 
 Fran. Xor was it hate 
 That forced him to it, but excess of love. 
 And, if I ne'er return, (so said great Sforza,) 
 No living man deserving to enjoy 
 My best 'Marcelia, with the first neivs 
 That I am dead, (for no man after me 
 
 Must e'er enjoy her, ) fail not to kill her 
 
 But till cet tain proof 
 
 Assure thee I am lost, (these were his words,) 
 Observe and honour her, as if the soul 
 Of -woman s goodness only dwelt in hers. 
 This trust I have abused, and basely 
 
 wrong'd ; 
 
 And, if the excelling pity of your mind 
 Cannot forgive it, as I dare not hope it, 
 Rather than look on my offended lord, 
 I stand resolved to punish it. 
 
 [Draws his sword. 
 
 Marc. Hold ! 'tis forgiven, 
 And by me freely pardon'd. In thy fair life 
 Hereafter, study to deserve this bounty, 
 Which thy true penitence, such I believe it, 
 Against myresolution hath forced from me. 
 But that my lord, my Sforza, should esteem 
 My life fit only as a page, to wait on 
 The various course of his uncertain fortunes ; 
 Or cherish in himself that sensual hope, 
 In death to know me as a wife, afflicts me ; 
 Xor does his envy less deserve mine anger, 
 Which though, such is my love, I would not 
 
 nourish, 
 
 Will slack the ardour that I had to see him 
 Return in safetv. 
 
 Fran. But if your entertainment 
 Should give the least ground to his jealousy, 
 To raise up an opinion I am false, 
 You then destroy your mercy. Therefore, 
 
 madam, 
 
 (Though I shall ever look on you as on 
 My life's preserver, and the miracle 
 Of human pity,) would you but vouchsafe, 
 In company, to do me those fair graces, 
 And favours, which your innocence and 
 
 honour 
 
 May safely warrant, it would to the duke, 
 I being to your best self alone known guilty, 
 Make me appear most innocent. 
 
 Marc. Have your wishes ; 
 And something I may do to try his temper, 
 
 At least, to make him know a constant wife 
 Is not so slaved to her husband's doting 
 
 humours, 
 
 But that she may deserve to live a widow, 
 Her fate appointing it. 
 
 Fran. It is enough ; 
 
 Nay, all I could desire, and will make way 
 To my revenge, which shall disperse itself 
 On him, on her, and all. 
 
 [Aside and exit. Shout and flourish. 
 
 Marc. What shout is that ? 
 
 Enter Tiberio and Stephano. 
 
 Tib. All happiness to the dutchess, that 
 
 may flow 
 
 Fiom the duke's new and wish'd return! 
 Marc. He's welcome. 
 Steph. How coldly she receives it ! 
 Tib. Observe the encounter. 
 
 Flourish. Enter Sforza, Pescara, Isabella, 
 Mariana, Graccho, and Attendants. 
 
 Mari. What you have told me, Graccho, 
 
 is believed, 
 
 And I'll find time to stir in't. 
 Grac. As you see cause ; 
 
 I will not do ill offices. 
 
 Sfor. I have stood 
 Silent thus long, Marcelia, expecting 
 When, with more than a greedy haste, thou 
 
 wouldst 
 
 Have flown into my arms, and on my lips 
 Have printed a deep welcome. My desires 
 To glass myself in these fair eyes, have 
 
 borne me 
 With more than human speed : nor durst I 
 
 stay 
 
 In any temple, or to any saint 
 To pay my vows and thanks for my return, 
 Till I had' seen thee. 
 
 Marc. Sir, I am most happy 
 To look upon you safe, and would express 
 My love and duty in a modest fashion, 
 Such as might suit with the behaviour 
 Of one that knows herself a wife, and how 
 To temper her desires, not like a wanton 
 Fired with hot appetite ; nor can it wrong me 
 To love discreetly. 
 
 Sfor. How ! why, can there be 
 A mean in your affections to Sforza ? 
 Or any act, though ne'er so loose, that may 
 Invite or heighten appetite, appear 
 Immodest or uncomely? Do not move me ; 
 My passions to you are in extremes, 
 And know no bounds : come ; kiss me. 
 Marc. I obey you. 
 Sfor. By all the joys of love, she does 
 
 salute me 
 As if I were her grandfather ! What witch, 
 
THE DUKE OF MILAN. 
 
 $ 
 
 With cursed spells, hath quench'd the 
 
 amorous heat 
 That lived upon these lips? Tell me, 
 
 Marcelia, 
 
 And truly tell me, is't a fault of mine 
 That hath begot this coldness ? or neglect 
 Of others, in my absence ? 
 
 Marc. Neither, sir : 
 I stand indebted to your substitute, 
 Noble and good Francisco, for his care 
 
 nd fair observance of me : there was nothing 
 With which you, being present, could supply 
 
 That I dare say I wanted. 
 
 Sfo r. How ! 
 ""Marc. The pleasures 
 That sacred Hymen warrants us, excepted, 
 Of which, in troth, you are too great a 
 
 doter ; 
 
 And there is more of beast in it than man. 
 Let us love temperately ; things violent last 
 
 not, 
 
 And too much dotage rather argues folly 
 Than true affection. 
 
 Grac. Observe but this, 
 And how she praised my lord's care and 
 
 observance ; 
 And then judge, madam, if my intelligence 
 Have any ground of truth. 
 Mari. No more ; I mark it. 
 Steph. How the duke stands ! 
 Tib. As he were rooted there, 
 And had no motion. 
 
 Pesc. My lord, from whence 
 Grows this amazement ? 
 
 Sfor. It is more, dear my friend ; 
 For I am doubtful whether I've a being, 
 But certain that my life's a burden to me. 
 Take me back, good Pescara, shew me to 
 
 Caesar 
 
 In all his rage and fury ; I disclaim 
 His mercy : to live now, which is his gift, 
 Is worse than death, and with all studied 
 
 torments. 
 
 Marcelia is unkind, nay, worse, grown cold 
 In her affection ; my excess of fervour, 
 Which yet was never equall'd, grown dis- 
 tasteful. 
 But have thy wishes, woman ; thou shalt 
 
 know 
 
 That I can be myself, and thus shake off 
 The fetters of fond dotage. From my sight, 
 Without reply ; for I am apt to do 
 Something I may repent. [Exit Marc. 
 
 Oh ! who would place 
 His happiness in most accursed woman, 
 In whom obsequiousness engenders pride ; 
 And harshness deadly hatred ! From this 
 
 hour 
 
 I'll labour to forget there are such creatures ; 
 
 True friends be now my mistresses. Clear 
 your brows, 
 
 And, though my heart-strings crack for't I 
 will be 
 
 To all a free example of delight. 
 
 We will have sports of all kinds, and pro- 
 pound 
 
 Rewards to such as can produce us new ; 
 
 Unsatisfied, though we surfeit in their store ; 
 
 And never think of curs'd Marcelia more. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 SCENE I. The same. A Room in Hie 
 Castle. 
 
 Enter Francisco and Graccho. 
 
 Fran. And is it possible thou shouldst 
 
 forget 
 
 A wrong of such a nature, and then study 
 My safety and content ? 
 
 Grac. Sir, but allow me 
 Only to have read the elements of courtship, 
 Not the abstruse and hidden arts to thrive 
 
 there ; 
 And you may please to grant me so much 
 
 knowledge, 
 
 That injuries from one in grace, like you, 
 Are noble favours. Is it not grown common, 
 In every sect, for those that want, to suffer 
 From such as have to give ? Your captain 
 
 cast, 
 
 If poor, though not thought daring, but ap- 
 proved so, 
 
 To raise a coward into name, that's rich, 
 Suffers disgraces publicly ; but receives 
 Rewards for them in private. 
 
 Fran. Well observed. 
 Put on ; we'll be familiar, and discourse 
 A little of this argument. That day, 
 In which it was first rumour'd, then con- 
 
 firm'd, 
 Great Sforza thought me worthy of his 
 
 favour, 
 
 I found myself to be another thing ; 
 Not what I was before. I passed then 
 For a pretty fellow, and of pretty parts too, 
 And was perhaps received so ; but, once 
 
 raised, 
 
 The liberal courtiers made me master of 
 Those virtues which I ne'er knew in myself: 
 If I pretended to a jest, 'twas made one 
 By their interpretation ; if I ofier'd 
 To reason of philosophy, though absurdly, 
 They had helps to save me, and without a 
 
 blush 
 
 
86 
 
 THE DUKE OF MILAN. 
 
 Would swear that I, by nature, had more 
 
 knowledge, 
 Than others could acquire by any labour : 
 Nay, all I did, indeed, which in another 
 Was not remarkable, in me shew'd rarely. 
 Grac. But then they tasted of your bounty. 
 Fran. True : 
 They gave me those good parts I was not 
 
 born to, 
 
 And, by my intercession, they got that 
 Which, had I cross'd them, they durst not 
 
 have hoped for. 
 
 Grac. All this is oracle : and shall I, then, 
 For a foolish whipping, leave to honour 
 
 him, 
 That holds the wheel of fortune ? no ; that 
 
 savours 
 Too much of the ancient freedom. Since 
 
 great men 
 Receive disgraces and give thanks, poor 
 
 knaves 
 Must have nor spleen, nor anger. Though 
 
 I love 
 My limbs as well as any man, if you had 
 
 now 
 
 A humour to kick me lame into an office, 
 Where I might sit in state and undo others, 
 Stood I not bound to kiss the foot that 
 
 did it? 
 Though it seem strange, there have been 
 
 such things seen 
 In the memory of man. 
 
 Fran. But to the purpose, 
 And then, that service done, make thine 
 
 own fortunes. 
 My wife, thou say'st, is jealous I am too 
 Familiar with the dutchess. 
 
 Grac. And incensed 
 
 For her commitment in her brother's ab- 
 sence ; 
 
 And by her mother's anger is spurr'd on 
 To make discovery of it. . This her purpose 
 Was trusted to my charge, which I declined 
 As much as in me lay ; but, finding her 
 Determinately bent to undertake it, 
 Though breaking my faith to her may de- 
 stroy 
 
 My credit with your lordship, I yet thought, 
 Though at my peril, I stood bound to re- 
 veal it. 
 Fran. I thank thy care, and will deserve 
 
 this secret, 
 
 In making thee acquainted with a greater, 
 And of more moment. Come into my 
 
 bosom, 
 And take it from me : Canst thou think, 
 
 dull Graccho, 
 My power and honours were ccnferr'd upon 
 
 me, 
 
 And, add to them, this form, to have my 
 
 pleasures 
 
 Confined and limited ? I delight in change, 
 And sweet variety ; that's my heaven on 
 
 earth, 
 
 For which I love life only. I confess, 
 My wife pleased me a day, the dutchess, 
 
 two, 
 
 (And yet I must not say I have enjoy'd her,) 
 But now I care for neither : therefore, 
 
 Graccho, 
 
 So far I am from stopping Mariana 
 In making her complaint, that I desire thee 
 To urge her to it. 
 
 Grac. That may prove your ruin ; 
 The duke already being, as 'tis reported, 
 Doubtful she hath play'd false. 
 
 Fran. There thou art cozen'd ; 
 His dotage, like an ague, keeps his course, 
 And now 'tis strongly on him. But I lose 
 
 time, 
 And therefore know, whether thou wilt or 
 
 no, 
 
 Thou art to be my instrument ; and, in spite 
 Of the old saw, that says, It is not safe 
 On any terms to trust a man that's wrong'd, 
 I dare thee to be false. 
 
 Grac. This is a language, 
 My lord, I understand- not. 
 
 Fran. You thought, sirrah, 
 To put a trick on me for the relation 
 Of what I knew before, and, having won 
 Some weighty secret from me, in revenge 
 To play the traitor. Know, thou wretched 
 
 thfng, 
 By my command thou wert whipt ; and 
 
 every day 
 
 I'll have thee freshly tortured, if thou miss 
 In the least charge that I impose upon thee. 
 Though what I speak, for the most part, is 
 
 true : 
 
 Nay, grant thou hadst a thousand witnesses 
 To be deposed they heard it, 'tis in me 
 With one word, such is Sforza's confidence 
 Of my fidelity not to be shaken, 
 To make all void, and ruin my accusers. 
 Therefore look to't ; bring my wife hotly on 
 To accuse me to the duke I have an end 
 
 in't, 
 
 Or think what 'tis makes man most mise- 
 rable, 
 And that shall fall upon thee. Thou wert 
 
 a fool 
 To hope, by being acquainted with my 
 
 courses, 
 
 To curb and awe me ; or that I should live 
 Thy slave, as thou didst saucily divine : 
 For prying in my counsels, still live mine. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
THE DUKE OF MILAN. 
 
 
 Graf. I am caught on both sides. This 
 
 'tis for a puisne 
 
 In policy's Protean school, to try conclusions 
 With one that hath commenced, and gone 
 
 out doctor. 
 
 If I discover what but now he bragg'd of, 
 I shall not be believed : if I fall off 
 From him, his threats and actions go to- 
 gether, 
 
 And there's no hope of safety. Till I get 
 A plummet that may sound his deepest 
 
 counsels, 
 
 j I must obey and serve him : Want of skill 
 
 Now makes me play the rogue against my 
 
 will. {Exit. 
 
 SCENE II. Another Room in the same. 
 
 Enter Marcelia, Tiberio, Stephano, and 
 Gentlewoman. 
 
 Marc. Command me from his sight, and 
 
 with such scorn 
 As he would rate his slave ! 
 Tib. 'Twas in his fury. 
 Steph. And he repents it, madam. 
 Marc. W T as I born 
 To observe his humours ! or, because he 
 
 dotes, 
 Must I run mad ? 
 
 lib. If that your Excellence 
 Would please but to receive a feeling know- 
 ledge 
 
 Of what he suffers, and how deep the least 
 Unkindness wounds from you, you would 
 
 excuse 
 His hasty language. 
 
 Steph. He hath paid the forfeit 
 Of his offence, I'm sure, with such a sorrow, 
 As, if it had been greater, would deserve 
 A full remission. 
 
 Marc. Why, perhaps, he hath it ; 
 And I stand more afflicted for his absence, 
 Than he can be for mine : so, pray you, 
 
 tell him. 
 
 But, till I have digested some sad thoughts, 
 And reconciled passions that are at war 
 Within myself, I purpose to be private : 
 And have you care, unless it be Francisco, 
 That no man be admitted. 
 
 {Exit Gentlewoman. 
 Tib. How ! Francisco ? 
 'Steph. He, that at every stage keeps 
 
 livery mistresses ; 
 The stallion of the state ! 
 
 Tib. They are things above us, 
 And so no way concern us. 
 
 Steph. If I were 
 
 The duke, (I freely must confess my weak- 
 ness,) 
 
 Enter Francisco. 
 
 I should wear yellow breeches. ; Here he 
 
 comes. 
 Tib. Nay, spare your labour, lady, %ve 
 
 know our duty, 
 And quit the rn ^" 1 i 
 
 Steph. Is thislier privacy ! 
 Though with the hazard of a check, perhaps, 
 This may go to the duke. 
 
 {Exeunt Tiberio and Stephano. 
 Marc. Your face is full 
 Of fears and doubts : the reason ? 
 
 Fran. O, best madam, _^ 
 They are not counterfeit. I, your poor 
 
 convert, 
 
 That only wish to live in sad repentance, 
 To mourn my desperate attempt of you, 
 That have no ends nor aims, but that your 
 
 goodness 
 
 Might be a witness of my penitence, 
 Which seen, would teach you how to love 
 your mercy 
 
 Am robb'd of that last hope. | The duke, 
 
 the duke, 
 I more than fear, hath found that I am guilty. 
 
 Marc. By my unspotted honour, not from 
 
 me ; 
 
 Nor have I with him changed one syllable, 
 Since his return, but what you heard. 
 
 Fran. Yet malice 
 Is eagle eyed, and would see that which is 
 
 not ; 
 
 And jealousy's too apt to build upon 
 Unsure foundations. 
 
 Marc. Jealousy ! 
 
 Fran. [Aside.] It takes. 
 
 Marc. Who dares but only think I can 
 
 be tainted ? 
 
 But for him, though almost on certain proof, 
 To give it hearing, not belief, deserves 
 My hate for ever. 
 
 Fran. Whether grounded on 
 Your noble, yet chaste favours shewn unto 
 
 me ; 
 
 Or her imprisonment, for her contempt 
 To you, by my command, my frantic wife 
 Hath put it in his head. 
 
 Marc. Have I then lived 
 So long, now to be doubted ? Are my favours 
 The themes of her discourse ? or what I do, 
 That never trod in a suspected path, 
 Subject to base construction? Be un- 
 daunted ; 
 
 For now, as of a creature that is mine, 
 I rise up your protectress : all the grace 
 I hitherto have done you, was bestow'd 
 With a shut hand ; it shall be now more free, 
 Open, and liberal. But let it not, 
 
THE DUKE OF MILAN. 
 
 Though counterfeited to the life, teach you 
 To nourish saucy hopes. 
 
 Fran. May I be blasted, 
 When I prove such a monster ! 
 
 Marc. I will stand then 
 Between you and all danger. He shall know, 
 Suspicion overturns what confidence builds ; 
 And he that dares but doubt when there's no 
 
 ground, 
 Is neither to himself nor others sound. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Fran. So, let it work ! Her goodness, 
 
 that denied 
 
 My service, branded with the name of lust, 
 Shall now destroy itself ; and she shall find, 
 When he's a suitor, that brings cunning 
 
 arm'd 
 
 With power, to be his advocates, the denial 
 Is a disease as killing as the plague, 
 And chastity a clue that leads to death. 
 Hold but thy nature, duke, and be but rash 
 And violent enough, and then at leisure 
 Repent ; I care not. 
 
 And lecmyplots produce thislong'd-for birth, 
 In my revenge I have my heaven on earth. 
 
 {Exit. 
 
 SCEXE III. Another Room in the same. 
 Enter Sforza, Pescara, and three Gentlemen. 
 
 Pesc. You promised to be merry. 
 
 1 Gent. There are pleasures, 
 
 And of all kinds, to entertain the time. 
 
 2 Gent. Your excellence vouchsafing to 
 make choice 
 
 Of that which best affects you. 
 
 Sfor. Hold your prating. 
 Learn manners too ; you are rude. 
 iT~ 3 Gent. I have my answer, 
 ^Before I ask the question. [Aside. 
 
 ~Pcsc. I must borrow 
 
 The privilege of a friend, and will ; or else 
 lam like these, a sen-ant, or, what's worse, 
 A parasite to the sorrow Sforza worships 
 In spite of reason. 
 
 Sfor. Pray you, use your freedom ; 
 I And so far, if you please, allow me mine, 
 To hear you only ; not to be compell'd 
 To take your moral potions. I am a man, 
 And, though philosophy, your mistress, rage 
 
 for't, 
 
 Now I have cause to grieve I must be sad ; 
 And I dare shew it. 
 
 Pesc. Would it were bestow'd 
 Upon a worthier subject ! 
 
 Sfor. Take heed, friend. 
 You rub a sore, whose pain will make me 
 
 mad ; 
 
 And I shall then forget myself and you. 
 Lance it no further. 
 
 Pesc. Have you stood the shock 
 Of thousand enemies, and outfaced the 
 
 anger 
 
 Of a great emperor, that vow'd your ruin, 
 Though by a desperate, a glorious way, 
 That had no precedent? are you return 'd 
 
 with honour, 
 Loved by your subjects ? does your fortune 
 
 court you, 
 Or rather say, your courage does ccmmand 
 
 it? 
 Have you given proof, to this hour of vour 
 
 life, 
 
 Prosperity, that searches the best temper, 
 Could never puff you up, nor adverse fate 
 Deject your valour? Shall, I say, these 
 
 virtues, 
 
 So many and so various trials of 
 Your constant mind, be buried in the frown 
 (To please you, I will say so) of a fair 
 
 woman ? 
 Yet I have seen her equals. 
 
 Sfor. Good Pescara, 
 This language in another were profane ; 
 In you it is unmannerly. Her equal ! 
 I tell you as a friend, and tell you plainly, 
 (To all men else my sword should make 
 
 reply,) 
 
 Her goodness does disdain comparison, 
 And, but herself, admits no parallel. 
 But you will say she's cross ; 'tis fit she 
 
 should be, 
 
 When I am foolish ; for she's wise, Pescara, 
 And knows how far she may dispose her 
 
 bounties, 
 
 Her honour safe ; or, if she were averse, 
 'Twas a prevention of a greater sin 
 Ready to fall upon me ; for she's not igno- 
 rant, 
 
 But truly understands how much I love her, 
 And that her rare parts do deserve all honour. 
 Her excellence increasing with her years 
 
 too, 
 
 I might have fallen into idolatry, 
 And, from the admiration of her worth, 
 Been taught to think there is no Power 
 
 above her ; 
 
 And yet I do believe, had angels sexes, 
 ; The most would be such women, and as- 
 sume 
 
 No other shape, when they were to appear 
 In their full glory. 
 
 Pesc. Well, sir, I'll not cross you, 
 Nor labour to diminish your esteem, 
 Hereafter, of her. 'Since your happim 
 As you will have it; has alone dependence 
 Upon her favour, from my soul I wish you 
 A fair atonement. 
 
 Sfor. Time, and my submission, 
 
THE DUKE OF MILAN. 
 
 89 
 
 Enter Tiberio and Stephano. 
 
 May work her to it. O ! you are well re- 
 turn 'd ; 
 Say, am I blest? hath she vouchsafed to 
 
 hear you ? 
 
 Is there hope left that she may be appeased ? 
 rlTJet her propound, and gladly I'll subscribe 
 I To her conditions. 
 
 Tib. She, sir, yet is froward, 
 And desires respite, and some privacy. 
 Stcph. She was harsh at first ; but, ere we 
 
 parted, seem'd not 
 Implacable. 
 
 Sfor. There's comfort yet : I'll ply her 
 i Each hour with new ambassadors "of more 
 
 honours, 
 
 Titles, and eminence : my second self, 
 Francisco, shall solicit her. 
 Stcph. That a wise man, 
 i And what is more, a prince that may com- 
 mand, 
 Should sue thus poorly, and treat with his 
 
 wife, 
 
 As she were a victorious enemy, 
 t'At whose proud feet, himself, his state, and 
 
 country, 
 
 i Basely begg'd mercy ! 
 Sfor. What is that you mutter? 
 I'll have thy thoughts. 
 
 Steph. You shall. You are too fond, 
 ! And feed a pride that's swollen too big 
 
 already, 
 ' And surfeits with observance. 
 
 Sfor. O my patience ! 
 My vassal speak thus ? 
 
 Steph. Let my head answer it, 
 If I offend. She, that you think a saint, 
 I fear, may play the devil. 
 
 Pesc. Well said, old fellow. [Aside. 
 
 Steph. And he that hath so long engross'd 
 
 your favours, 
 Though to be named with reverence, lord 
 
 Francisco, 
 
 Who, as you purpose, shall solicit for you, 
 I think's too near her. 
 
 [Sforza lays his hand on his sword. 
 Pesc. Hold, sir ! this is madness. 
 Sieph. It may be they confer of joining 
 
 lordships ; 
 I'm sure he's private with her. 
 
 Sfor. Let me go, 
 
 I scorn to touch him ; he deserves my pity, 
 And not my anger. Dotard ! and to be one 
 Is thy protection, else thou durst not think 
 That love to my Marcelia hath left room 
 _^ In my full heart for any jealous thought : 
 'That idle passion dwell with thick-skinn'd 
 tradesmen, 
 
 The undeserving lord, or the unable ! 
 Lock up thy own wife, fool, that must take 
 
 physic 
 From her young doctor, physic upon her 
 
 back, 
 
 Because thou hast the pajsy in that L 
 That makes her active, r I could smile to 
 
 think 
 What wretched things they are that dare be 
 
 jealous , 
 
 Were I match 'd to another Messaline, 
 While I found merit in myself to please her, 
 I should believe her chas'te, and would not 
 
 seek 
 
 To find out my own torment ; but, alas ! 
 Enjoying one that, but to me, 's a Dian, 
 I am too secure. 
 
 Tib. This is a confidence 
 Beyond example. 
 
 Enter Graccho, Isabella, and Mariana. 
 
 Grac. There he is now speak, 
 Or be for ever silent. 
 
 Sfor. If you come 
 
 To bring me comfort, say that you have made 
 My peace with my Marcelia. 
 
 Isab. I had rather 
 Wait on you to your funeral . 
 
 Sfor. You are my mother ; 
 Or, by her life, you were dead else. 
 
 Marl. Would you were, 
 To your dishonour ! and, since dotage makes 
 
 you 
 
 Wilfully blind, borrow of me my eyes, 
 Or some part of my spirit. Are you all flesh ? 
 A lump of patience only? no fire in you? 
 But do your pleasure : here your mother 
 
 was 
 
 Committed by your sen-ant, (for I scorn 
 To call him husband,) and myself, your sister, 
 If that you dare remember such a name, 
 Mew'd up, to make the way open and free 
 For the adultress, I am unwilling 
 To say, a part of Sforza. 
 
 Sfor. Take her head off ! 
 
 
 
 She hath blasphemed, and by our law must 
 die. -==!_ 
 
 Isab. Blasphemed! for calling of a whore, 
 a whore ? 
 
 Sfor. O hell, what do I suffer ! 
 
 Mari. Or is it treason 
 For me, that am a subject, to endeavour 
 To save the honour of the duke, and that 
 He should not be a wittol on re 
 For by posterity 'twill be believed, 
 As certainly as now it can be proved, 
 Francisco, the great minion, that sways all, 
 To meet the chaste embraces of the dutchess, 
 Hath leap'd into her bed. 
 
GO 
 
 THE DUKE OF MILAN. 
 
 Sfor. Some proof, vile creature ! 
 Or thou hast spoke thy last. 
 
 Mart. The public fame, 
 Their hourly private meetings ; and, e'en 
 
 now, 
 
 When, under a pretence of grief or anger, 
 You are denied the joys due to a husband, 
 And made a stranger to her, at all times 
 The door stands open to him. ; To a Dutch- 
 
 ; "This were enough, but to a right Italian 
 JJA hundred thousand witnesses. 
 
 ^Isab. Would you have us 
 nTo be her bawds ? 
 
 " Sfor. O the malice j 
 ,-And envy of base women/ that, with horror, 
 Knowing their own defects and inward guilt, 
 : Dare lie, and swear, and damn, for what's 
 
 most false, 
 
 To cast aspersions upon one untainted ! 
 ' Ye are in your natures devils, and your ends, 
 I Knowing your reputation sunk for ever, 
 I And not to be recover'd, to have all 
 \ Wear your black livery. Wretches ! you 
 
 have raised 
 
 A monumental trophy to her pureness, 
 "In truTyour studied purpose to deprave her : 
 And all the shot made by your foul detrac- 
 tion, 
 
 Falling upon her sure-arm'd innocence, 
 Returns upon yourselves ; and, if my love 
 -Could suffer an addition^Tm so far 
 From giving credit to you, this would teach 
 
 me 
 More to admire and serve her. You are not 
 
 worthy 
 
 To fall as sacrifices to appease her ; 
 And therefore live till your own envy burst 
 
 you. 
 
 hab. All is in vain ; he is not to be moved. 
 Mart. She has bewitch'd him. 
 Pcsc. Tis so past belief, 
 I To me it shews a fable. 
 
 Enter Francisco, speaking to a Servant 
 within. 
 
 Fran. On thy life, 
 
 Provide my horses, and without the port 
 With care attend me. 
 
 Serv. \withinJ] I shall, my lord. 
 
 Grac. He's come. 
 What gimcrack have we next ? 
 ^ _ Fran. Great sir. 
 
 Sfor. Francisco, 
 Though all the joys in women are fled from 
 
 me, 
 
 In thee I do embrace the full delight 
 That I can hope from man. 
 
 Fran. I would impart, 
 
 Please you to lend your ear, a weighty secret, 
 I am in labour to deliver to you. 
 Sfor. All leave the room. 
 
 [Exeunt Isab. Mari. and Graccho. 
 Excuse me, good Pescara, 
 Ere long I will wait on you. 
 
 Peso. You speak, sir, 
 The language I should use. {Exit. 
 
 Sfor. Be within call, 
 Perhaps we may have use of you. 
 Tib. We shall, sir. 
 
 [Exeunt Tib. and Steph. 
 Sfor. Say on, my comiort. 
 Fran. Comfort ! no, your torment, 
 For so my fate appoints me. I could curse 
 The hour that gave me being. 
 
 Sfor. What new monsters 
 Of misery stand ready to devour me ? 
 Let them at once dispatch me. 
 
 Fran. Draw your sword then, 
 And, as you wish your own peace, quickly 
 
 kill me ; 
 
 Consider not, but do it. 
 Sfor. Art thou mad? 
 Fran. Or, if to take my life be too much 
 
 mercy, 
 
 As death, indeed, concludes all human sor- 
 rows, 
 
 Cut off my nose and ears ; pull out an eye, 
 The other only left to lend me light 
 To see my own deformities. Why was I 
 
 born 
 
 Without some mulct imposed on me by 
 nature? ^f 
 
 Would from my youth a loathsome leprosy 
 Had run upon this face, or that my breath 
 Had been infectious, and so made me 
 
 shunn'd 
 Of all societies ! Curs'd be he that taught 
 
 me 
 
 Discourse or manners, or lent any grace 
 That makes the owner pleasing in the uyo 
 Of wanton women ! since those parts, which 
 
 others 
 
 Value as blessings, are to me afflictions, 
 Such my condition is. 
 
 Sfor. I am on the rack : 
 Dissolve this doubtful riddle. 
 
 Fran. That I alone, 
 Of all mankind, that stand most bound to 
 
 love you, 
 
 And study your content, should be ap- 
 pointed, 
 
 Xot by my will, but forced by cruel fate, 
 To be your greatest enemy ! not to hold 
 
 you 
 
 In this amazement longer, in a word, 
 Your dutchess loves me. 
 Sfor. Loves thee ! 
 
THE DUKE OF MILAN. 
 
 Fran. Is mad for me, 
 Pursues me hourly. 
 Sfor. Oh! 
 
 Fran. And from hence grew 
 Her late neglect of you. 
 Sfor. O women ! women ! 
 Fran. I labour'd to divert her by per- 
 suasion, 
 Then urged your much love to her, and the 
 
 danger ; 
 
 Denied her, and with scorn. 
 Sfor. 'Twas like thyself. 
 Fran. But when I saw her smile, then 
 
 heard her say, 
 
 Your love and extreme dotage, as a cloak, 
 Should cover our embraces, and your power 
 Fright others from suspicion ; and all fa- 
 vours 
 
 That should preserve her in her innocence, 
 By lust inverted to be used as bawds ; 
 I could not but in duty (though I know 
 That the relation kills in you all hope 
 Of peace hereafter, and in me 'twill shew 
 Both base and poor to rise up her accuser) 
 Freely discover it. 
 Sfor. Eternal plagues 
 rsue and overtake her ! for her sake, 
 'o all posterity may he prove a cuckold, 
 And, like to me, a thing so miserable 
 As words may not express him, that gives 
 
 trust 
 
 To all-deceiving women ! Or, since it is 
 The will of heaven, to preserve mankind, 
 That we mijst know and couple with these 
 
 serpents, 
 
 No wise man ever, taught by my example, 
 Hereafter use his wife with more respect 
 Than he would do his horse that does him 
 
 service ; 
 
 Base woman being in her creation made 
 .^ A slave to man.,. But, like a village nurse, 
 : Stand I now cursing and considering, when 
 The tamest fool would do ! Within there ! 
 Stephano, 
 
 Tibcrio, and the rest ! 1 will be sudden, 
 
 And she shall know and ieel, love in ex- 
 tremes 
 Abused, knows no degree in hate. 
 
 Enter Tiberio and Stephano. 
 
 Tib. My lord. 
 
 Sfor. Go to the chamber of that wicked 
 woman 
 
 Steph. What wicked woman, sir ? 
 
 Sfor. The devil, my wife. 
 Force a rude entry, and, if she refuse 
 To follow you, drag her hither by the hair, 
 And know no pity ; any gentle usage 
 To her will call on cruelty from me, 
 
 To such as shew it. Stand you staring? Go, 
 And put my will in act. 
 
 Steph. There's no disputing. 
 
 Tib. But 'tis a tempest, on the sudden 
 
 raised, 
 Who durst have dream "d of? 
 
 {Exeunt Tiberio and Stephano. , 
 
 Sfor. Nay, since she dares damnation, 
 I'll be a fury to her. 
 
 Fran. Yet, great sir, 
 Exceed not in your fury ; she's yet guilty 
 Only in her intent. 
 
 Sfor. Intent, Francisco! 
 It does include all fact ; and I might sooner 
 Be won to pardon treason to my crown, 
 Or one that kill'd my father. 
 
 Fran. You are wise, 
 And know what's best to do : yet, if you 
 
 please, 
 
 To prove her temper to the height, say only 
 That I am dead, and then observe how far 
 She'll be transported. I'll remove a little, 
 But be within your call. Now to the up- ; 
 
 shot! 
 Howe'er, I'll shift for one. 
 
 [Aside and exit. 
 
 Re-enter Tiberio, Stephano, and Guard 
 with Marcelia. 
 
 i 
 
 Marc. Where is this monster, ' 
 
 This walking tree of jealousy ,Jthis dreamer,. Ji 
 This horned beast that would be ? J Oh ! arc 
 
 you here, sir ? 
 
 Is it by your commandment or allowance, 
 I am thus basely used? "Which of my virtues, 
 My labours, services, and cares to plea 
 
 you, 
 
 For, to a man suspicious and unthankful, 
 Without ablush I may be mine own trumpet 
 Invites this barbarous course? dare you T5oTc 
 
 on me 
 Without a seal of shame ? 
 
 Sfor. Impudence, 
 
 How ugly thou appear 'st now ! Thy intent 
 To be a whore, leaves thee not blood enoueh 
 To make"3h' honest blush : what had the 
 
 act done ? 
 Marc. Return'd thee the dishonour thou 
 
 deserv'st ; 
 Though willingly I had given up myself 
 
 To every common letchej^..^ '. 
 
 Sfor. "Your chief minion, 
 Your chosen favourite, yourwoo'd Francisco, 
 Has dearly paid for't ; for, wretch ! know, 
 
 he's dead, 
 And by my hand. 
 
 Marc. The bloodier villain thou 
 But 'tis not to be wonder 'd at, thy love 
 
 ! S 
 
 love 
 
THE DUKE OF MILAN. 
 
 Does know no other object : thou hast 
 
 kill'd then, 
 
 A man I do profess I loved ; a man 
 For whom a thousand queens might well be 
 
 rivals. 
 
 But he, I speak it to thy teeth, that dares be 
 A jealous fool, dares be a murderer, 
 And knows no end in mischief. 
 
 Sfor. I begin now 
 In this my justice. [Stabs her. 
 
 Marc. 'Oh ! I have fool'd myself 
 Into my grave, and only grieve for that 
 Which, when you know you've slain an 
 
 innocent, 
 You needs must suffer. 
 
 Sfor. An innocent ! Let one 
 Call in Francisco ; for he lives, vile creature, 
 [Exit Stephano. 
 
 To justify thy falsehood, and how often, 
 With whorish flatteries, thou hast tempted 
 
 him ; 
 \ I being only fit to -live a stale, 
 
 A bawd and property to your wantonness. 
 
 Re-enter Stephano. 
 
 Steph. Signior Fran cisco, sir, but even now 
 Took horse without the ports. 
 
 Marc. We are both abused, 
 And both by him undone. Stay, death, a 
 
 little, 
 
 Till I have clear'd me to my lord, and then 
 I willingly obey thee. O, my Sforza ! 
 Francisco was not tempted, but the tempter ; 
 And, as he thought to win me, shew'd the 
 
 warrant 
 That you sign'd for my death. 
 
 Sfor. Then I believe thee ; 
 Believe thee innocent too. 
 
 Marc. But, being contemn 'd. 
 Upon his knees with tears he did beseech me, 
 Not to reveal it ; I, soft-hearted fool, 
 Judging his penitence true, was won unto it : 
 Indeed, the unkindness to be sentenced by 
 
 you, 
 
 Before that I was guilty in a thought, 
 Mademeput on a seeming anger towards you, 
 And now behold the issue ! As I do, 
 May heaven forgive you ! {Dies. 
 
 Tib. Her sweet soul has left 
 Her beauteous prison. 
 
 Steph. Look to the duke ; he stands 
 As if he wanted motion. 
 
 Tib. Grief hath stopp'd 
 
 he organ of his speech. 
 
 Steph. Take up this body, 
 And call for his physicians. 
 
 Sfor. O, my heart-strings ! [Exeunt. 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 SCENE I. The Milanese. A Room tn 
 Eugenia's House. 
 
 Enter-Francisco, andEugenla.in maleattire. 
 
 Fran. Why, could'st thou think, Eugenia, 
 
 that rewards. 
 Graces, or favours, though strew'd thick 
 
 upon me, 
 
 Could ever bribe me to forget mine honour ? 
 Or that I tamely would sit down, before 
 I had dried these eyes still wet with showers 
 
 of tears, 
 By the fire of my revenge? look up, my 
 
 dearest ! 
 For that proud fair, that, thief-like, stepp'd 
 
 between 
 Thy promis'd hopes, and robb'd thee of a 
 
 ' fortune 
 
 Almost in thy possession, hath found, 
 With horrid proof, his love, she thought her 
 
 glory, 
 
 And an assurance of all happiness, 
 But hastened her sad ruin. 
 
 Eng. Do not flatter 
 A grief that is beneath it ; for, however 
 The credulous duke to me proved false and 
 
 cruel, 
 
 It is impossible he could be wrought 
 To look on her, but with the eyes of dotage, 
 And so to serve her. 
 
 Fran. Such, indeed, I grant, 
 The stream of his afiection was, and ran 
 A constant course, till I, with cunning 
 
 malice 
 
 And yet I wrong my act, for it was justice, 
 Made it turn backwards ; and hate, in ex- 
 tremes, 
 (Love banish 'd from his heart,) to fill the 
 
 room : 
 
 In a word, know the fair Marcelia's dead. 
 Eug . Dead ! 
 Fran. And by Sforza 's hand. Does it not 
 
 move you? 
 
 How coldly you receive it ! I expected 
 The mere relation of so great a blessing, 
 Borne proudly on the wings of sweet revenge. 
 Would have call'd on a sacrifice of thanks, 
 And joy not to be bounded or conceal 'd. 
 You entertain it with a look, as if 
 You wish'd it were undone. 
 
 Eug. Indeed I do : 
 
 For, if my sorrows could receive addition, 
 Her sad fate would increase, not lessen them. 
 She never injured me, but entertain'd 
 A fortune humbly offer'd to her hand, 
 Which a wise lady gladly would have kneel'd 
 
 for. 
 
THE DUKE OF MILAN. 
 
 93 
 
 Unless you would impute it as a crime, 
 She was' more fair than I, and had discretion 
 Not to deliver up her virgin fort, 
 Though strait besieged with flatteries, vows, 
 
 and tears, 
 
 Until the church had made it safe and lawful. 
 And had I been the mistress of her judgment 
 And constant temper, skilful in the know- 
 ledge 
 
 Of man's malicious falsehood, I had never, 
 Upon his hell-deep oaths to marry me, 
 Given up my fair name, and my maiden 
 
 honour, 
 To his foul lust ; nor lived now, being 
 
 branded 
 In the forehead for his whore, the scorn and 
 
 shame 
 Of all good women. 
 
 n. Have you then no gall, 
 Anger, or spleen, familiar to your sex ? 
 Or is it possible, that you could see 
 Another to possess what was your due, 
 And not grow pale with envy ? 
 
 Eug. Yes, of him 
 That did deceive me. There's no passion, 
 
 that 
 
 A maid so injured ever could partake of, 
 But I have dearly suffer'd. These three years, 
 In my desire and labour of revenge, 
 Trusted to you, I have endured the throes 
 Of teeming women ; and will hazard all 
 B'ate can inflict on me, but I will reach 
 Thy heart, false Sforza ! You have trifled 
 
 with me, 
 
 And not proceeded with that fiery zeal, 
 I look'd for from a brother of your spirit. 
 Sorrow forsake me, and all signs of grief 
 Farewell for ever ! Vengeance, arm'd with 
 
 fury, 
 Possess me wholly now ! 
 
 Fran. The reason, sister, 
 Of this strange metamorphosis ? 
 
 Eug. Ask thy fears : 
 
 Thy base, unmanly fears, thy poor delays, 
 Thy dull forgetfulness equal with death ; 
 My wrong, else, and the scandal which can 
 
 never 
 Be wash'd off from our house, but in his 
 
 blood, 
 
 Would have stirr'd up a coward to a deed 
 In which, though he had fallen, the brave 
 
 intent 
 
 Had crown'd itself with a fair monument 
 Of noble resolution. In this shape 
 i hope to get access ; and, then, with shame, 
 Hearing my sudden execution, judge 
 What honour thou hast lost, in being 
 
 transcended 
 By a weak woman., 
 
 Fran. Still mine own, and dearer ! 
 j And yet in this you but pour oil on fire, 
 I And offer your assistance where it needs not, 
 ! And, that you may perceive I lay not fallow, 
 j But had your wrongs stamp'd deeply on my 
 
 heart 
 
 j By the iron pen of vengeance, I attempted, 
 I By whoring her, to cuckold him : that failing, 
 I did begin his tragedy in her death, 
 To which it served as prologue, and will 
 
 make 
 
 A memorable story of your fortunes 
 In my assured revenge : Only, best sister, 
 Let us not lose ourselves in the performance, 
 By your rash undertaking : we will be 
 As sudden as you could wish. 
 
 Eug. Upon those terms 
 I yield myself and cause to be disposed of 
 As you think fit. 
 
 Enter a Servant. 
 
 Fran. Thy purpose? . 
 
 Serv. There's one Graccho, 
 That follow'd you, it seems, upon the track, 
 Since you left Milan, that's importunate 
 To have access, and will not be denied : 
 His haste, he says, concerns you. 
 
 Fran. Bring him to me. [Exit Servant. 
 Though he hath laid an ambush for my life, 
 Or apprehension, yet I will prevent him, 
 And work mine own ends out. 
 
 Enter Graccho. 
 Grac. Now for my whipping ! 
 And if I now outstrip him not, and catch 
 
 him, 
 
 And by a new and strange way too, hereafter 
 I'll swear there are worms in my brains. 
 
 \Asidt. 
 
 Fran. Now, my good Graccho ! 
 We meet as 'twere by miracle. 
 
 Grac. Love, and duty, 
 And vigilance in me for my lord's safety, 
 First taught me to imagine you were here, 
 And then to follow you. All's come forth, 
 
 my lord, 
 That you could wish conceal'd. The 
 
 dutchess' wound, 
 In the duke's rage put home, yet gave her 
 
 leave 
 To acquaint him with your practices, which 
 
 your flight 
 Did easily confirm. 
 
 Fran. This I expected ; 
 But sure you come provided of good counsel, 
 To help in my extremes. 
 
 Grac. I would not hurt you. 
 Fran. How ! hurt me ? such another 
 word 's thy death ; 
 
THE DUKE OF MILAN. 
 
 
 Why, dar'st thou think it can fall in thy will, 
 To outlive what I determine ? 
 
 Grac. How he awes me ! [Aside. 
 
 Fran. Be brief ; what brought thee hither? 
 Grac. Care to inform you 
 You are a condemn'd man, pursued and 
 
 sought for, 
 
 And your head rated at ten thousand ducats 
 To him that brings it. 
 Fran. Very good. 
 Grac. All passages 
 
 Are intercepted, and choice troops of horse 
 Scour o'er the neighbour plains ; your picture 
 
 sent 
 
 To every state confederate with Milan : 
 That, though I grieve to speak it, in my 
 
 judgment, 
 So thick your dangers meet, and run upon 
 
 you, 
 
 It is impossible you should escape 
 Their curious search. 
 
 Eug. Why, let us then turn Romans, 
 And, falling by our own hands, mock their 
 
 threats, 
 And dreadful preparations. 
 
 Fran. 'Twould show nobly ; 
 But that the honour of our full revenge 
 Were lost in the rash action. No, Eugenia, 
 Graccho is wise, my friend too, not my 
 
 servant, 
 
 And I dare trust him with my latest secret. 
 We would, and thou must help us to perform 
 
 it, 
 First kill the duke then, fall what can upon 
 
 us! 
 
 For injuries are writ in brass, kind Graccho, 
 And not to be forgotten. 
 Grac. He instructs me 
 What I should do. [Aside. 
 
 Fran. What's that? 
 Grac. I labour with 
 
 A strong desire to assist you with my service ; 
 And now I am deliver 'd of 't. 
 
 Fran. I told you. 
 Speak, my oraculous Graccho. 
 
 Grac. I have heard, sir, 
 Of men in debt that, lay'd for by their cre- 
 ditors, 
 
 In all such places where it could be thought 
 They would take shelter, chose, for sanc- 
 tuary, 
 Their lodgings underneath their creditors' 
 
 noses, 
 
 Or near that prison to which they were de- 
 sign 'd, 
 
 If apprehended ; confident that there 
 They never should be sought for. 
 Evg. Tis a strange one ! 
 Fran. But what infer you from it? 
 
 Grac. This, my lord ; 
 That, since all ways of your escape are 
 
 stopp'd, 
 
 In Milan only, or, what's more, in the court, 
 Whither it is presumed you dare not come, 
 Conceal'd in some disguise, you may live safe. 
 
 Fran. And not to be disco ver'd ? 
 
 Grac. But by myself. 
 
 Fran. By thee! Alas! I know thee honest, j 
 
 Graccho, 
 
 And I will put thy counsel into act, 
 And suddenly. Yet, not to be ungrateful 
 For all thy loving travail to preserve me, 
 What bloody end soe'er my stars appoint, 
 Thou shalt be safe, good Graccho. Who's 
 within there ? 
 
 Grac. In the devil's name, what means he 1 
 
 Enter Servants. 
 
 Fran. Take my friend 
 Into your custody, and bind him fast : 
 I would not part with him. 
 Grac. My good lord. 
 Fran. Dispatch : 
 'Tis for your good, to keep you honest, 
 
 Graccho ! 
 I would not have ten thousand ducats tempt 
 
 you, 
 
 Being of a soft and wax -like disposition. 
 To play the traitor ; nor a foolish itch 
 To be revenged for your late excellent whip- 
 ping. 
 
 Give you the opportunity to offer 
 My head for satisfaction. Why, thou fool ! 
 I can look through and through thee ; thy 
 
 intents 
 
 Appear to me as written in thy forehead, 
 In plain and easy characters : and but that 
 I scorn a slave's base blood should rust that 
 
 sword 
 
 That from a prince expects a scarlet dye, 
 Thou now wert dead ; but live, only to pray 
 For good success to crown my undertakings'; 
 And then, at my return, perhaps, I'll free 
 
 thee, 
 
 To make me further sport. Away with him ! 
 I will not hear a syllable. 
 
 [Exeunt Servants with Graccho. 
 
 We must trust 
 Ourselves, Eugenia ; and though we make 
 
 use of 
 
 The counsel of our servants, that oil spent, 
 Like snuffs that do offend, we tread them 
 
 out. 
 But now to our last scene, which we'll so 
 
 carry, 
 
 That few shall understand how 'twas begun, 
 Till all, with half an eye, may see 'tis done. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
THE DUKE OF MILAN. 
 
 SCENE II. Milan. A Room in the Castle. 
 Enter Pescara, Tiberio, and Stephano. 
 Pe.sc. The like was never read of. 
 Steph. In my judgment, 
 To all that shall but hear it, 'twill appear 
 2\ most impossible fable. 
 
 Tib. For Francisco, 
 
 My wonder is the less, because there are 
 Too many precedents of unthankful men 
 Raised up to greatness, which have after 
 
 studied 
 
 The ruin of their makers. 
 ^ Steph. But that melancholy, 
 Though ending in distraction, should work 
 So far upon a man, as to compel him 
 To court a thing that has nor sense nor being, 
 Is unto me a miracle. 
 
 Peso. 'Troth, I'll tell you, 
 And briefly as I can, by what degrees 
 He fell into this madness. When, by the care 
 Of his physicians, he was brought to life, 
 As he had only pass'd a fearful dream, 
 And had not acted what I grieve to think on, 
 He call'd for fair Marcelia, and being told 
 That she was dead, he broke forth in ex- 
 tremes, 
 (I would not say blasphemed,) and cried 
 
 that heaven, 
 
 For all the offences that mankind could do, 
 Would never be so cruel as to rob it 
 Of so much sweetness, and of so much 
 
 goodness ; 
 
 That not alone was sacred in herself, 
 But did preserve all others innocent, 
 That had but converse with her. ") Then it 
 "^ came 
 
 Into his fancy that she was accused 
 By his mother and his sister ; thrice he curs'd 
 
 them, 
 And thrice his desperate hand was on his 
 
 sword 
 T'have kill'd them both ; but he restrain'd, 
 
 and they 
 
 Shunning his fury, spite of all prevention 
 He would have turned his rage upon himself ; 
 When wisely his physicians, looking on 
 The dutchess' wound, to stay his ready hand, 
 Cried out, it was not mortal. 
 Tib. 'Twas well thought on. 
 Pes. He easily believing what he wish'd, 
 'M"ore than a perpetuity of pleasure 
 In any object else ; flatier'd by hope, 
 Forge'tting his own greatness, he fell prostrate 
 At the doctors' feet, implored their aid, and 
 
 swore, 
 
 Provided they recover'd her, he would live 
 A private man, and they should share his 
 
 dukedom. 
 
 They seem'd to promise fair, and every hour 
 Vary their judgments, as they find his fit 
 To suffer intermission or extremes : 
 For his behaviour since 
 
 Sfor. [wilhin.~] As you have pity 
 Support her gently. 
 
 Pes. Now, be your own witnesses ; 
 [ am prevented. 
 
 Enter Sforza, Isabella, Mariana, Doctors, 
 and Servants with the body of Marcelia. 
 
 Sfor. Carefully, I beseech you, 
 The gentlest touch torments her ; and then 
 
 think 
 
 What I shall suffer. O you earthly gods, 
 You second natures, that from your great 
 
 master, 
 
 Who join'd the limbs of torn Hippolitus, 
 And drew upon himself the Thunderer's envy, 
 Are taught those hidden secrets that restore 
 To life death-wounded men ! you have a 
 
 patient, 
 
 On whom to express the excellence of art, 
 Will bind even heaven your debtor, though 
 
 it pleases 
 
 To make your hands the organs of a work 
 The saints will smile to look on, and good 
 
 angels 
 
 Clap their celestial wings to give it plaudits. 
 How pale and wan she looks ! O pardon me, 
 That I presume (dyed o'er with bloody guilt. 
 Which makes me, I confess, far, far un- 
 worthy) 
 To touch this snow-white hand. How cold 
 
 it is! 
 
 This once was Cupid's fire-brand, and still 
 'Tis so to me. How slow her pulses beat too J 
 Yet in this temper, she is all perfection, 
 And mistress of a heat so full of sweetness, 
 The blood of virgins, in their pride of youth, 
 Are balls of snow or ice compared unto her. 
 Mart. Is not this strange ? 
 Isab. Oh ! cross him not, dear daughter ; 
 Our conscience tells us we have been abused, 
 Wrought to accuse the innocent, and with 
 
 him 
 Are guilty of a fact 
 
 Enter a Servant, and "whispers Pescara. 
 
 Mart. 'Tis now past help. 
 
 Pen. With me ? What is he ? 
 
 Serv. He has a strange aspect ; 
 A Jew by birth, and a physician 
 By his profession, as he says, who, hearing 
 Of the duke's frenzy, on the forfeit of 
 His life will undertake to render him 
 Perfect in every part : provided that 
 Your lordship's favour" gain him free access. 
 
 J 
 
THE DUKE OF MILAN. 
 
 And your power with the duke a safe pro- 
 tection, 
 Till the great work be ended. 
 
 Pesc. Bring me to him ; 
 As I find cause, I'll do. 
 
 [Exeunt Pesc. and Serv. 
 Sfor. How sound she sleeps ! 
 
 Heaven keep her from a lethargy ! How 
 
 long 
 
 (But answer me with comfort, I beseech you) 
 Does your sure judgment tell you that these 
 
 lids, 
 
 That cover richer jewels than themselves, 
 Like envious night, will bar these glorious 
 
 suns 
 From shining on me ? 
 
 1 Doct. We have given her, sir, 
 
 A sleepy potion, that will hold her long, 
 That she may be less sensible of the torment 
 "Fhe searching of her wound will put her to. 
 
 2 Doct. She now feels little ; but, if we 
 should wake her, 
 
 To hear her speak would fright both us and 
 
 you, 
 
 And therefore dare not hasten it. 
 / 'Sfor. I am patient. 
 
 You see I do not rage, but wait your pleasure. 
 What do you think she dreams of now ? for 
 
 sure, 
 
 Although her body's organs are bound fast, 
 Her fancy cannot slumber. 
 
 i Doct. That, sir, looks on 
 Your sorrow for your late rash act, with pity 
 'Of what you suffer for it, and prepares 
 To meet the free confession of your guilt 
 With a glad pardon. 
 
 Sfor* She was ever kind ; 
 And her displeasure, though call'd on, short- 
 lived 
 
 Upon the least submission. O you Powers, 
 That can convey our thoughts to one another 
 Without the aid of eyes or ears, assist me ! 
 Let her behold me in a pleasing dream 
 
 [Kneels. 
 
 'Thus, on my knees before her ; (yet that duty 
 In me is not sufficient ;) let her see me 
 Compel my mother, from whom I took life, 
 And this my sister, partner of my being, 
 To bow thus low unto her ; let her hear us 
 In my acknowledgment freely confess 
 That we in a degree as high are guilty 
 As she is innocent. Bite your tongues, vile 
 
 creatures, 
 
 And let your inward horror fright your souls, 
 For having belied that pureness.Jto come 
 
 near which, 
 
 All women that posterity can bring forth 
 Must be, though striving to be good, poor 
 rivals. 
 
 And for that dog Francisco, that seduced me, 
 In wounding her, to rase a temple built 
 To chastity and sweetness, let her know 
 I'll follow him to hell, but I will find him, 
 And there live a fourth fury to torment him. 
 Then, for this curs'd hand and arm that 
 
 guided 
 The wicked steel, I'll have them, joint by 
 
 joint, 
 W r ith burning irons sear'd off, which I will 
 
 eat, 
 
 I being a vulture fit to taste such carrion ; 
 Lastly 
 
 1 Doct. You are too loud, sir ; you disturb 
 Her sweet repose. 
 
 Sfor. I am hush'd. Yet give us leave, 
 Thus prostrate at her feet, our eyes bent 
 
 downwards, 
 
 Unworthy, and ashamed, to look upon her, 
 To expect her gracious sentence. 
 
 2 Doct. He's past hope. 
 
 1 Doct. The body too will putrify, and then 
 We can no longer cover the imposture. 
 
 Tib. Which, in his death, will quickly be 
 
 discover'd. 
 I can but weep his fortune. 
 
 Steph. Yet be careful 
 You lose no minute to preserve him ; time 
 May lessen his distraction. 
 
 Re-enter Pescara, with Francisco, as a Jxv 
 doctor, and Eugenia disguised as before. 
 
 Fran. I am no god, sir, 
 To give a new life to her ; yet I'll hazard 
 My head, I'll work the senseless trunk 
 
 t 'appear 
 
 To him as it had got a second being, 
 Or that the soul, that's fled from't, were call'd 
 
 back 
 
 To govern it again. I will preserve it 
 In the first sweetness, and by a strange 
 
 vapour, 
 
 Which I'll infuse into her mouth, create 
 A seeming breath ; I'll make her veins run 
 
 high too, 
 As if they had true motion. 
 
 Pesc. Do but this, 
 
 Till we use means to win upon his passions 
 T'endure to hear she's dead with some small 
 
 patience, 
 And make thy own reward. 
 
 Fran. The art I use 
 Admits no looker on : I only ask 
 The fourth part of an hour, to perfect that 
 I boldly undertake. 
 Pesc. I will procure it. 
 
 2 Doct. What stranger's this ? 
 Pesc. Sooth me in all I say ; 
 
 There's a main end in it. 
 
THE DUKE OF MILAN. 
 
 97 
 
 Fran. Beware ! 
 
 F.iig. I am warn'd. 
 
 Peso. Look up, sir, cheerfully ; comfort 
 
 in me 
 Flows strongly to you. 
 
 Sfor. From whence came that sound ? 
 Was it from my Marcelia ? If it were, 
 
 [Rises. 
 
 I rise, and joy will give me wings to meet it. 
 Pesc. Nor shall your expectation be 
 
 deferr'd 
 
 But a few minutes. Your physicians are 
 Mere voice, and no performance ; I have 
 
 found 
 
 A man that can do wonders. Do not hinder 
 The dutchess' wish'd recovery, to enquire 
 Or what he is, or to give thanks, but leave 
 
 him 
 To work this miracle. 
 
 Sfor. Sure, 'tis my good angel. 
 I do obey in all things : be it death 
 For any to disturb him, or come near, 
 Till he be pleased to call us. O, be pros- 
 perous, 
 And make a duke thy bondman ! 
 
 [Exeunt all but Francisco and Eugenia. 
 Fran. 'Tis my purpose ; 
 If that to fall a long-wish'd sacrifice 
 To my revenge can be a benefit. 
 I'll first make fast the doors ; so ! 
 
 Eug. You amaze me : 
 What follows now ? 
 
 Fran. A full conclusion 
 Of all thy wishes. Look on this, Eugenia, 
 Even such a thing, the proudest fair on earth 
 (For whose delight the elements are ran- 
 
 sack'd, 
 
 And art with nature studied to preserve her,) 
 Must be, when she is summon'd to appear 
 In the court of Death. But I lose time. 
 Eug. What mean you ? 
 Fran. Disturb me not. Your ladyship 
 
 looks pale ; 
 
 But I, your doctor, have a ceruse for you. 
 See, my Eugenia, how many faces, 
 That are adorned in court, borrow these helps, 
 [Paints the cheeks. 
 
 And pass for excellence, when the better part 
 Of them are like to this. Your mouth smells 
 
 sour too, 
 
 But here is that shall take away the scent ; 
 A precious antidote old ladies use, 
 When they would kiss, knowing their gums 
 are rotten. [Paints the lips. 
 
 These hands, too, that disdained to take a 
 
 touch 
 
 From any lip, whose owner writ not lord, 
 Are now but as the coarsest earth ; but I 
 Am at the charge, my bill not to be paid too, 
 
 To give them seeming beauty. 
 
 [Paints the hands. 
 So ! 'tis done. 
 How do you like my workmanship ? 
 
 Eug. I tremble : 
 
 And thus to tyrannize upon the dead, 
 Is most inhuman. 
 
 Fran. Come we for revenge, 
 And can we think on pity ! Now to the 
 
 upshot, 
 And, as it proves, applaud it. My lord the 
 
 duke ! 
 
 Enter with joy, and see the sudden change 
 Your servant's hand hath wrought. 
 
 Re-enter Sforza and the rest. 
 Sfor. I live again 
 
 In my full confidence that Marcelia may 
 Pronounce my pardon. Can she speak yet? 
 
 Fran. No: 
 
 You must not look for all your joys at once ; 
 That will ask longer time. 
 Pesc. Tis wondrous strange ! 
 Sfor. By all the dues of love I have had 
 
 from her, 
 This hand seems as it was when first I 
 
 kiss'd it. 
 
 These lips invite too : I could ever feed 
 Upon these roses, they still keep their colour 
 And native sweetness : only the nectar's 
 
 wanting, 
 
 That, like the morning dew in flowery May, 
 Preserved them in their beauty. 
 
 Enter Graccho hastily. 
 
 Grac. Treason, treason ! 
 
 Tib. Gallup the guard. 
 
 Fran. Graccho ! then we are lost. 
 
 Enter Guard. 
 
 [Aside. 
 
 Grac. I am got off, sir Jew ; a bribe hath 
 
 done it, 
 For all your serious charge ; there's no 
 
 disguise 
 
 Can keep you from my knowledge. 
 Sfor. Speak. 
 Grac. I am out of breath, 
 
 But this is 
 
 Fran. Spare thy labour, fool, Francisco. 
 A II. Monster of men ! 
 Fran. Give me all attributes 
 Of all you can imagine, yet I glory 
 To be the thing I was born. I AM Francisco ; 
 Francisco, that was raised by you, and made 
 The minion of the time ; the same Francisco, 
 That would have whored this trunk, when it 
 
 had life ; 
 
 And, after, breathed a jealousy upon thee, 
 
 li 
 
THE DUKE OF MILAN. 
 
 As killing as those damps that belch out 
 
 plagues 
 
 When the foundation of the earth is shaken : 
 I made thee do a deed heaven will not pardon, 
 Which was to kill an innocent. 
 
 Sfor. Call forth the tortures 
 For all that flesh can feel. 
 Fran. I dare the worst. 
 Only, to yield some reason to the world 
 Why I pursued this course, look on this face, 
 Made old by thy base falsehood : 'tis Eugenia. 
 Sfor. Eugenia ! 
 
 Fran. Does it start you, sir? my sister, 
 Seduced and fool'd by' thee : but thou must 
 
 pay 
 The forfeit of thy falsehood. Does it not 
 
 work yet ! 
 
 Whate'er becomes of me, which I esteem not, 
 THOU art mark'd for the grave : 1 Ve given 
 
 thee poison 
 
 In this cup, now observe me, which, thy lust 
 Carousing deeply of, made thee forget 
 Thy vow'd faith to Eugenia. 
 Pesc. O damn'd villain ! 
 I sab. How do you, sir? 
 Sfor. Like one 
 
 That learns to know in death what punish- 
 ment 
 Waits on the breach of faith. Oh ! now I 
 
 feel 
 
 An ./Etna in my entrails. I have lived 
 A prince, and my last breath shall be com- 
 mand. 
 I bum, I burn ! yet ere life be consumed. 
 
 Let me pronounce upon this wretch all 
 
 torture 
 
 That witty cruelty can invent. 
 Pcsc. Away with him ! 
 Tib. In all things we will serve you. 
 Fran. Farewell, sister ! 
 Now I have kept my word, torments I scorn : 
 I leave the world with glory. They are 
 
 men, 
 
 And leave behind them name and memory, 
 That, wrong'd, do right themselves before 
 they die. 
 
 [Exeunt Guard with Francisco. 
 Steph. A desperate wretch ! 
 Sfor. I come : Death ! I obey thee. 
 Yet I will not die raging ; for, alas ! 
 My whole life was a frenzy. Good Eugenia, 
 In death forgive me. As you love me, bear 
 
 her 
 
 To some religious house, there let her spend 
 The remnant of her life : when I am ashes, 
 Perhaps she'll be appeased, and spare a 
 
 prayer 
 For my poor soul. Bury me with Marcelia, 
 
 And let our epitaph be [Dies. 
 
 Tib. His speech is stopp'd. 
 
 Steph. Already dead ! 
 
 Pesc. It is in vain to labour 
 
 To call him back. We'll give him funeral, 
 
 And then determine of the state affairs : 
 
 And learn, from this example, There's no 
 
 trust 
 In a foundation that is built on lust. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
The Bondman. 
 
 Timoleon, the general, 0/" Corinth. 
 Archidamus, pr&tor <7/" Syracusa. 
 ! Diphilus, a senator of Syracusa. 
 ; Cleon, a fat impotent lord. 
 | Marullo, the Bondman (i.e. Pisander, 
 
 tleman ofThsbes ; disguised as a slave. ) 
 Poliphron, friend to Marullo ; also disguised 
 
 as a slave. 
 
 Leosthenes, a gentleman of Syracusa, en- 
 amoured ^Cleora. 
 Asotus, a foolish lover, and the son of Cleon. 
 
 DRAMATIS PERSONS. 
 
 Timagoras, the son ^T Archidamus. 
 
 A Gaoler. 
 
 Cleora, daughter of Archidamus. 
 
 Corisca, a proud wanton lady, wife to Cleon. 
 
 Olympia, a rich widow. 
 
 Timandra, slave to Cleora (i.e. Statilia, 
 
 sister to Pisander.) 
 Zanthia, slave to Corisca. 
 Other Slaves, Soldiers, Officers, Senators. 
 
 SCENE, Syracuse, and the adjacent country. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 SCENE I. The Camp of Timoleon, near 
 Syracuse. 
 
 Enter Timagoras and Leosthenes. 
 
 Timag. Why should you droop, Leos- 
 thenes, or despair 
 
 My sister's favour ? What, before, you pur- 
 chased 
 
 By courtship and fair language, in these wars, 
 (For from her soul you know she loves a 
 
 soldier) 
 
 You may deserve by action. 
 Leost. Good Timagoras, 
 When I have said my friend, think all is 
 
 spoken 
 That may assure me yours ; and pray you 
 
 believe, 
 
 The dreadful voice of war that shakes the city, 
 The thundering threats of Carthage, nor 
 
 their army 
 Raised to make good those threats, affright 
 
 not me. 
 
 If fair Cleora were confirm'd his prize, 
 That has the strongest arm and sharpest 
 
 sword, 
 
 I'd court Bellona in her horrid trim, 
 As if she were a mistress ; and bless fortune, 
 That offers my young valour to the proof, 
 How much I dare do for your sister's love. 
 But, when that I consider how averse 
 Your noble father, great Archidamus, 
 Is, and hath ever been, to my desires, 
 Reason may warrant me to doubt and fear, 
 What seeds soever I sow in these wars 
 
 Of noble courage, his determinate will 
 
 May blast, and give my harvest to another, 
 
 That never toil'd for it. 
 
 Timag. Prithee, do not nourish 
 
 These jealous thoughts ; I am thine, (and 
 pardon me, 
 
 Though I repeat it,) thy Timagoras, 
 
 That, for thy sake, when the bold Theban 
 sued, 
 
 Far-famed Pisander, for my sister's love, 
 
 Sent him disgraced and discontented home. 
 
 I wrought my father then ; and I, that 
 stopp'd not 
 
 In the career of my affection to thee, 
 
 When that renowned worthy, that, brought 
 with him 
 
 High birth, wealth, courage, as fee'd advo- 
 cates 
 
 To mediate for him ; never will consent 
 
 A fool, that only has the shape of man, .. 
 
 Asotus, though he be rich Cleon's heir, 
 
 Shall bear her from thee. 
 Leost. In that trust I love. 
 Timag. Which never shall deceive you. ' 
 
 Enter Marullo. 
 
 Mar. Sir, the general, 
 Timoleon, by his trumpets hath given 
 
 warning 
 For a remove. 
 
 Timag. 'Tis well ; provide my horse. 
 
 Mar. I shall, sir. [Exit. 
 
 Leost. This slave has a strange aspect. 
 
 Timag. Fit for his fortune ; 'tis a strong- 
 
 limb'd knave : 
 My father bought him for my sister's litter. 
 
THE BONDMAN. 
 
 pride of women ! Coaches are too com- 
 
 mon 
 
 They surfeit in the happiness of peace, 
 And ladies think they keep not state enough, 
 If, for their pomp and ease, they are not born 
 In triumph on men's shoulders. 
 
 Least. Who commands 
 The Carthaginian fleet ! 
 
 Timag. Cisco's their admiral, 
 And 'tis our happiness ; a raw young fellow, 
 One never train'd in arms, but rather 
 
 fashion 'd 
 
 To tilt with ladies' lips, than crack a lance ; 
 Ravish a feather from a mistress' fan, 
 And wear it as a favour. A steel helmet, 
 Made horrid with a glorious plume, will crack 
 His woman's neck. 
 
 Least. No more of him. The motives, 
 That Corinth gives us aid ? 
 
 Timag. The common danger ; 
 For Sicily being afire, she is not safe : 
 , It being apparent that ambitious Carthage, 
 That, to enlarge her empire, strives to fasten 
 An unjust gripe on us that live free lords 
 Of Syracusa, will not end, till Greece 
 Acknowledge her their sovereign. 
 
 Leo st. I am satisfied. 
 What think you of our general ? 
 
 Timag. He's a man [Trumpets within. 
 Of strange and reserved parts ; but a great 
 
 soldier. 
 
 His trumpets call us, I'll forbear his cha- 
 racter : 
 
 To morrow, in the senate-house, at large 
 He will express himself. 
 
 Leost. I'll follow you. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE II. Syracuse. A Room in Cleon's 
 
 House. 
 
 Enter Cleon, Corisca, and Gracculo. 
 Coris. Nay, good chuck. 
 Cleon. I've said it ; stay at home : 
 
 1 cannot brook your gadding ; you're a faif 
 
 one, 
 
 Beauty invites temptations, and short heels 
 Are soon tripp'd up. 
 
 Coris. Deny me ! by my honour, 
 You take no pity on me. I shall swoon 
 As soon as you are absent ; ask my man else, 
 You know he dares not tell a lie. ' 
 
 Grac. Indeed, 
 
 You are no sooner out of sight, but she 
 Does feel strange qualms ; then sends for her 
 
 young doctor, 
 
 Who ministers physic to her on her back, 
 Her ladyship lying as she were entranced : 
 (I've peep'd in at the keyhole, and observed 
 
 them :) 
 . And sure his potions never fail to work, 
 
 [Aside. \ 
 
 For she's so pleasant in the taking them, 
 She tickles again. 
 
 Coris. And all's to make you merry, 
 When you come home. 
 
 Cleon. You flatter me ; I am old, 
 And wisdom cries, Beware ! 
 
 Coris. Old ! duck. To me 
 You are a young Adonis. 
 
 Grac. Well said, Venus ! 
 I am sure she Vulcans him. [Aside. 
 
 Coris. I will not change thee 
 For twenty boisterous voung things without i 
 
 beards. 
 
 These bristles give the gentlest titillations, 
 And such a sweet dew flows on them, it cures 
 My lips without pomatum. Here's a round 
 
 belly ! 
 
 'Tis a down pillow to my back ; I sleep 
 So quietly by it : and this tunable nose, 
 Faith, when you hear it not, affords such 
 
 music, 
 That I curse all night-fiddlers. 
 
 Grac. This is gross. 
 Not finds she flouts him ! 
 Coris. As I live, I am jealous. 
 Cleon. Jealous of me, wife ? 
 Coris. Yes ; and I have reason ; 
 Knowing how lusty and active a man you 
 
 are. 
 
 Cleon. Hum, hum ! 
 Grac. This is no cunning quean ! 'slight. 
 
 she will make him 
 To think that, like a stag, he has cast his 
 
 horns, 
 And is grown young again. \Aside. 
 
 Coris. You have forgot 
 What you did in your sleep, and, when you 
 
 waked, 
 Call'd for a caudle. 
 
 Grac. It was in his sleep ; 
 For, waking, I durst trust my mother with 
 him. [Aside. 
 
 Coris. I long to see the man of war : 
 
 Cleora, 
 Archidamus' daughter, goes, and rich 
 
 Olympia : 
 I will not miss the show. 
 
 Cleon. There's no contending : 
 For this time I am pleased, but I'll no more 
 on't. [Exeunt 
 
 SCENE III. The Same. The Senate-house. 
 Enter Archidamus, Cleon, Diphilus, Olym- 
 pia, Corisca, Cleora, and Zanthia. 
 Archid. So careless we have been, my 
 
 noble lords, 
 
 In the disposing of our own affairs, 
 And ignorant in the art of government, 
 That now we need a stranger to instruct us. 
 
THE BONDMAN. 
 
 Yet we are happy that our neighbour Corinth, 
 Pitying the unjust gripe Carthage would lay 
 On Syracusa, hath vouchsafed to lend us 
 Her man of men, Timoleon, to defend 
 Our country and our liberties. 
 
 Diph. Tis a favour 
 
 We are unworthy of, and we may blush 
 Necessity compels us to receive it. 
 Archid. O shame ! that we, that are a 
 
 populous nation, 
 
 Engaged to liberal nature, for all blessings 
 An island can bring forth ; we, that have 
 
 limbs, 
 And able bodies ; shipping, arms, and 
 
 treasure, 
 
 The sinews of the war, now we are call'd 
 To stand upon our guard, cannot produce 
 One fit to be our general. 
 
 Clean. I am old and fat ; 
 I could say something, else. 
 
 Archid. We must obey 
 The time and our occasions ; ruinous build- 
 ings, 
 
 Whose bases and foundations are infirm, 
 Must use supporters : we are circled round 
 With danger ; o'er our heads, with sail- 
 
 stretch'd wings, 
 
 Destruction hovers, and a cloud of mischief 
 Ready to break upon us ; no hope left us 
 That may divert it, but our sleeping virtue, 
 Roused up by brave Timoleon. 
 Clean. When arrives he ? 
 Diph. He is expected every hour. 
 Archid. The braveries 
 Of Syracusa, among whom my son, 
 Timagoras, Leosthenes, and Asotus, 
 Your hopeful heir, lord Cleon, two days 
 
 since 
 
 Rode forth to meet him, and attend him to 
 The city ; every minute we expect 
 To be bless'd with his presence. 
 
 {Shouts within ; then a flourish of 
 
 trumpets. 
 
 Cleon. What shout "s this ? 
 Diph. 'Tij seconded with loud music. 
 Archid. Which confirms 
 His wish'd-for entrance. Let us entertain 
 
 him 
 
 With all respect, solemnity, and pomp, 
 A man may merit, that comes to redeem us 
 From slavery and oppression. 
 
 Cleon. I'll lock up 
 My doors, and guard my gold : these lads 
 
 of Corinth 
 
 Have nimble fingers, and I fear them more, 
 Being within our walls, than those of 
 
 Carthage ; 
 They are far off. 
 
 Archid. And, ladies, be it your care 
 
 To welcome him and his followers with all 
 
 duty : 
 For rest resolved, their hands and swords 
 
 must keep you 
 
 In that full height of happiness you live ; 
 A dreadful change else follows. 
 
 [Exeunt Archidamus, Cleon, and 
 
 Diphilus. 
 
 Olymp. We are instructed. 
 Coris. I'll kiss him for the honour of my 
 
 country, 
 With any she in Corinth. 
 
 Olymp. Were he a courtier, 
 I've sweetmeat in my closet shall content 
 
 him, 
 Be his palate ne'er so curious. 
 
 Coris. And, if need be, 
 I have a couch and a banqueting-house in 
 
 my orchard, 
 
 Where many a man of honour has not scorn 'd 
 To spend an afternoon. 
 
 Olymp. These men of war, 
 As I have heard, know not to court a lady. 
 They cannot praise our dressings, kiss our 
 
 hands, 
 
 Usher us to our litters, tell love-stories, 
 Commend our feet and legs, and so search 
 
 upwards ; 
 
 A sweet becoming boldness ! they are rough, 
 Boisterous, and saucy, and at the first sight 
 Ruffle and touze us, and, as they find their 
 
 stomachs, 
 Fall roundly to it. 
 
 Coris. 'Troth, I like them the better : 
 I can't endure to have a perfumed sir 
 Stand cringing in the hams, licking his lips 
 Like a spaniel over a furmenty-pot, and yet 
 Has not the boldness to come on, or offer 
 What they know we expect. 
 
 Olymp. We may commend 
 A gentleman's modesty, manners, and finu \ 
 
 language, 
 
 His singing, dancing, riding of great horses, ; 
 The wearing of his clothes, his fair com- ' 
 
 plexion ; 
 Take presents from him, and extol his 
 
 bounty : 
 Yet, though he observe, and waste his estate 
 
 upon us, 
 
 If he be staunch, and bid not for the stock 
 That we were born to traffic with ; the truth 
 
 is, 
 
 We care not for his company. 
 Coris. Musing, Cleora? 
 Olymp. She's studying how to entertain 
 
 these strangers, 
 And to engross them to herself. 
 
 Cleo. No, surely ; 
 I will not cheapen any of their wares, 
 
THE BONDMAN. 
 
 Till you have made your market ; you will 
 
 buy, 
 I know, at any rate. 
 
 Coris. She has given it you. 
 Olymp. No more ; they come : the first 
 kiss for this jewel. 
 
 Flourish of trumpets. Enter Timagoras, 
 Leosthenes, Asotus, Timoleon in black, 
 led in. by Archidamus, Diphilus, and 
 Cleon ; followed by Marullo, Gracculo, 
 Cimbrio, and other Slaves. 
 
 Arc/iid. It is your seat : which, with a 
 general suffrage, 
 
 {Offering Timoleon the state. 
 As to the supreme magistrate, Sicily tenders, 
 And prays Timoleon to accept. 
 
 Timol. Such honours 
 To one ambitious of rule or titles, 
 Whose heaven on earth is placed in his 
 
 command, 
 And absolute power o'er others, would with 
 
 joy. 
 
 And veins swollen high with pride, be en- 
 
 tertain'd. 
 
 They take not me ; for I have ever loved 
 An equal freedom, and proclaim'd all such 
 As would usurp on others' liberties, 
 Rebels to nature, to whose bounteous bless- 
 ings 
 
 All men lay claim as true legitimate sons : 
 But such as have made forfeit of themselves 
 By vicious courses, and their birthright lost, 
 'Tis not injustice they are mark'd for slaves, 
 To serve the virtuous. For myself, I know 
 Honours and great employments are great 
 
 burthens, 
 
 And must require an Atlas to support them. 
 He that would govern others, first should be 
 The master of himself, richly endued 
 With depth of understanding, height of 
 
 courage, 
 And those remarkable graces which I dare 
 
 not 
 Ascribe unto myself. 
 
 Archid. Sir, empty men 
 Are trumpets of their own deserts ; but you, 
 That are not in opinion, but in proof, 
 Really good, and full of glorious parts, 
 Leave the report of what you are to fame ; 
 Which, from the ready tongues of all good 
 
 men, 
 Aloud proclaims you. 
 
 Diph. Besides, you stand bound, 
 Having so large a field to exercise 
 Your active virtues offer'd you, to impart 
 Your strength to such as need it. 
 
 Timol. 'Tis confess'd : 
 And, since you'll have it so, such as I am, 
 
 For you, and for the liberty of Greece, 
 I am most ready to lay down my life : 
 But yet consider, men of Syracusa, 
 Before that you deliver up the power, 
 Which yet is yours, to me, to whom 'tis 
 
 given ; 
 To an impartial man, with whom nor 
 
 threats, 
 
 Nor prayers, shall prevail ; for I must steer 
 An even course. 
 
 Archid. Which is desired of all. 
 
 Timol. Timophanes, my brother, for 
 
 whose death 
 I am tainted in the world, and foully 
 
 tainted ; 
 
 In whose remembrance I have ever worn. 
 In peace and war, this livery of sorrow, 
 Can witness for me how much I detest 
 Tyrannous usurpation. With grief, 
 I must remember it ; for, when no persuasion 
 Could win him to desist from his bad 
 
 practice, 
 
 To change the aristocracy of Corinth 
 Into an absolute monarchy, I chose rather 
 To prove a pious and obedient son 
 To my country, my best mother, than to lend 
 Assistance to Timophanes, though my 
 
 brother, 
 
 That, like a tyrant, strove to set his foot 
 Upon the city's freedom. 
 Timag. 'Twas a deed 
 Deserving rather trophies than reproof. 
 Leost. And will be still remember'd to 
 
 your honour, 
 If you forsake not us. 
 
 Diph. If you free Sicily 
 From barbarous Carthage' yoke, it will be 
 
 said, 
 In him you slew a tyrant. 
 
 Archid. But, giving way 
 To her invasion, not vouchsafing us 
 That fly to your protection, aid and comfort, 
 'Twill be believed, that, for your private ends, 
 You kill'd a brother. 
 
 Timol. As I then proceed, 
 To all posterity may that act be crown 'd 
 With a deserved applause, or branded with 
 The mark of infamy ! Stay yet ; ere I take 
 This seat of justice, or engage myself 
 To fight for you abroad, or to reform 
 Your state at home, swear all upon my sword, 
 And call the gods of Sicily to witness 
 The oath you take, that whatsoe'er I shall 
 Propound for safety of your commonwealth, 
 Not circumscribed or bound in, shall by 
 
 you 
 Be willingly obey'd. 
 
 Archid. Diph. Cleon. So may we prosper, 
 As we obey in all things ! 
 
THE BONDMAN. 
 
 103 
 
 ' Timag. Least. Asot. And observe 
 All your commands as oracles ! 
 
 Timol. Do not repent it. [ Takes the state. 
 Olymp. He ask'd not our consent. 
 Coris. He's a clown, I warrant him. 
 Olymp. I offer'd myself twice, and yet the 
 
 churl 
 j Would not salute me. 
 
 Coris. Let him kiss his drum 1 
 < I'll save my lips, I rest on it. 
 Olymp. He thinks women 
 ' No part of the republic. 
 Coris. He shall find 
 We are a commonwealth. 
 Cleo. The less your honour. 
 Timol. First, then, a word or two, but 
 
 without bitterness, 
 
 : (And yet mistake me not, I am no flatterer, ) 
 I Concerning your ill government of the state ; 
 j In which the greatest, noblest, and most rich, 
 I Stand, in the first file, guilty. 
 Clean. Ha ! how's this? 
 Timol. You have not, as good patriots 
 
 should do, studied 
 
 j The public good, but your particular ends ; 
 | Factious among yourselves, preferring such 
 j To offices and honours, as ne'er read 
 
 The elements of saving policy ; 
 ! But deeply skill'd in all the principles 
 That usher to destruction. 
 Least. Sharp ! 
 Timag. The better. 
 Timol. Your senate-house, which used 
 
 not to admit 
 
 A man, however popular, to stand 
 At the helm of government, whose youth 
 
 was not 
 
 Made glorious by action ; whose experience, 
 Crown'd with gray hairs, gave warrant to 
 
 his counsels, 
 Heard and received with reverence, is now 
 
 fill'd 
 
 With green heads, that determine of the state 
 i Over their cups, or when their sated lusts 
 i Afford them leisure ; or supplied by those 
 : Who, rising from base arts and sordid thrift, 
 Are eminent for their wealth, not for their 
 
 wisdom : 
 
 Which is the reason that to hold a place 
 In council, which was once esteem'd an 
 
 honour, 
 
 And a reward for virtue, hath quite lost 
 Lustre and reputation, and is made 
 A mercenary purchase. 
 Timag. He speaks home. 
 Least. And to the purpose. 
 Timol. From whence it proceeds, 
 That the treasure of the city is engross' d 
 By a few private men, the public cofiers 
 
 Hollow with want ; and they, that will not 
 
 spare 
 
 One talent for the common good, to feed 
 The pride and bravery of their wives, con- 
 sume, 
 
 In plate, in jewels, and superfluous slaves, 
 What would maintain an army. 
 Coris. Have at us ! 
 Olymp. We thought we were forgot. 
 Cleo. But it appears, 
 You will be treated of. 
 
 Timol. Yet, in this plenty, 
 And fat of peace, your young men ne'e 
 
 were train'd 
 In martial discipline ; and your ships 
 
 unrigg'd, 
 
 Rot in the harbour : no defence prepared, 
 But thought unuseful ; as if that the gods, 
 Indulgent to your sloth, had granted you 
 A perpetuity of pride and pleasure, 
 No change fear'd or expected. Now you find 
 That Carthage, looking on your stupid 
 
 sleeps, 
 
 And dull security, was invited to 
 Invade your territories. 
 
 Archid. You have made us see, sir, 
 To our shame, the country's sickness : now, 
 
 from you, 
 
 As from a careful and a wise physician, 
 j We do expect the cure. 
 
 Timol. Old fester 'd sores 
 j Must be lanced to the quick, and cauterized ; 
 j Which born with patience, after I'll apply 
 j Soft unguents. For the maintenance of the 
 
 war, 
 
 i It is decreed all monies in the hand 
 Of private men, shall instantly be brought 
 To the public treasury. 
 Timag. This bites sore. 
 Clean. The cure 
 Is worse than the disease ; I'll never yield 
 
 to't : 
 
 What could the enemy, though victorious, 
 Inflict more on us ? All that my youth hath 
 
 toil'd for, 
 Purchas'd with industry, and preserved with 
 
 care, 
 Forced from me in a moment ! 
 
 Diph. This rough course 
 Will never be allow'd of. 
 Timol. O blind men ! 
 If you refuse the first means that is offer'd 
 To give you health, no hope's left to recover 
 Your desperate sickness. Do you prize your 
 
 muck 
 
 Above your liberties ; and rather choose 
 To be made bondmen, than to part with that 
 To which already you are slaves ? Or an it 
 Be probable in your flattering apprehensions, 
 
104 
 
 THE BONDMAN. 
 
 You can capitulate with the conquerors, 
 And keep -that yours which they come to 
 
 possess, 
 And, while you kneel in vain, will ravish 
 
 from you ? 
 But take your own ways ; brood upon 
 
 your gold. 
 
 Sacrifice to your idol, and preserve 
 The prey entire, and merit the report 
 Of careful stewards : yield a just account 
 To your proud masters, who, with whips of 
 
 iron, 
 
 Will force you to give up what you conceal, 
 Or tear it from your throats : adorn your 
 
 walls 
 With Persian hangings wrought of gold and 
 
 pearl ; 
 
 j Cover the floors, on which they are to tread, 
 With costly Median silks? perfume the 
 
 rooms 
 
 With cassia and amber, where they are 
 To feast and revel ; while, like servile 
 
 grooms, 
 You wait upon their trenchers : feed their 
 
 eyes 
 
 With massy plate, until your cupboards crack 
 With the weight that they sustain ; set forth 
 
 your wives 
 
 And daughters in as many varied shapes 
 As there are nations, to provoke their lusts, 
 And let them be embraced before your eyes, 
 The object may content you ! and, to perfect 
 Their entertainment, offer up your sons, 
 And able men, for slaves ; while you, that 
 
 are 
 
 Unfit for labour, are spurn'd out to starve, 
 Unpitied, in some desert, no friend by, 
 Whose sorrow may spare one compassionate 
 
 tear, 
 
 In the remembrance of what once you were. 
 Least. The blood turns. 
 Timag. Observe how old Cleon shakes, 
 As if in picture he had shown him what 
 He was to suffer. 
 
 Coris. I am sick ; the man 
 Speaks poniards and diseases. 
 
 Olymp. O my doctor ! 
 I never shall recover. 
 
 Cleo. [coming forward."] If a virgin, 
 Whose speech was ever yet usher'd with fear ; 
 One knowing modesty and humble silence 
 To be the choicest ornaments of our sex, 
 In the presence of so many reverend men 
 Struck dumb with terror and astonishment, 
 Presume to clothe her thought in vocal 
 
 sounds, 
 
 Let her find pardon. First to you, great sir, 
 A bashful maid's thanks, and her zealous 
 
 prayers 
 
 Wing'd with pure innocence, bearing them 
 
 to heaven, 
 
 For all prosperity that the gods can give 
 To one whose piety must exact their care, 
 Thus low I offer. 
 
 Tintol. 'Tis a happy omen. 
 Rise, blest one, and speak boldly. On my 
 
 virtue, 
 
 I am thy warrant, from so clear a spring 
 Sweet rivers ever flow. 
 
 Cleo. Then, thus to you, 
 My noble father, and these lords, to whom 
 I next owe duty : no respect forgotten 
 To you, my brother, and these bold young 
 
 men, 
 (Such I would have them,) that are, or 
 
 should be, 
 
 The city's sword and target of defence. 
 To all of you I speak ; and, if a blush 
 Steal on my cheeks, it is shown to reprove 
 Your paleness, willingly I would not say, 
 Your cowardice or fear : Think you all 
 
 treasure 
 Hid in the bowels of the earth, or ship- 
 
 wreck'd 
 In Neptune's wat'ry kingdom, can hold 
 
 weight, 
 
 When liberty and honour fill one scale, 
 Triumphant Justice sitting on the beam ? 
 Or dare you but imagine that your gold is 
 Too dear a salary for such as hazard 
 Their blood and lives in your defence ? For 
 
 me, 
 
 An ignorant girl, bear witness, heaven ! so far 
 I prize a soldier, that, to give him pay, 
 With such devotion as our flamens offer 
 Their sacrifices at the holy altar, 
 I do lay down these jewels, will make sale j 
 Of my superfluous wardrobe, to supply 
 The meanest of their wants. 
 
 [Lays down her jewels, &c. ; the rest 
 follow her example. 
 Timol. Brave masculine spirit ! 
 Diph. We are shown, to our shame, what ' 
 
 we in honour 
 Should have taught others. 
 
 Archid. Such a fair example 
 Must needs be follow'd. 
 
 Timag. Ever my dear sister, 
 But now our family's glory ! 
 Least. Were she deform 'd, 
 The virtues of her mind would force a stoic 
 To sue to be her servant. 
 
 Cleon. I must yield ; 
 And, though my heart-blood part with it, I 
 
 will 
 Deliver in my wealth. 
 
 Asot. I would say something ; 
 But, the truth is, I know not what. 
 
 
 
THE BONDMAN. 
 
 105 
 
 Timol. We have money ; 
 And men must now be thought on. 
 
 Archid. We can press 
 Of labourers in the country, men inured 
 To cold and heat, ten thousand. 
 
 Diph. Or, if need be, 
 Enrol our slaves, lusty and able varlets, 
 And fit for service. 
 
 Clean. They shall go for me ; 
 I will not pay and fight too. 
 
 Cleo. How ! your slaves ? 
 
 stain of honour ! Once more, sir, your 
 
 pardon ; 
 
 And, to their shames, let me deliver what 
 f know in justice you may speak. 
 Timol. Most gladly: 
 
 1 could not wish my thoughts a better organ 
 Than your tongue, to express them. 
 
 Cleo. Are you men ! 
 
 (For age may qualify, though not excuse, 
 The backwardness of these,) able young 
 
 men ! 
 Yet, now your country's liberty's at the 
 
 stake, 
 Honour and glorious triumph made the 
 
 garland 
 
 For such as dare deserve them ; a rich feast 
 Prepared by Victory-, of immortal viands, 
 Not for base men, but such as with their 
 
 swords 
 Dare force admittance, and will be her 
 
 guests : 
 
 And can you coldly suffer such rewards 
 To be proposed to labourers and slaves ? 
 While you, that are born noble, to whom 
 
 these, 
 
 Valued at their best rate, are next to horses, 
 Or other beasts of carriage, cry aim ! 
 Like idle lookers on, till their proud worth 
 Make them become your masters ! 
 
 Timol. By my hopes, 
 There's fire and spirit enough in this to 
 
 make 
 
 Thersites valiant. 
 
 i Cleo. No ; far, far be it from you : 
 Let these of meaner quality contend 
 Who can endure most labour ; plough the 
 
 earth, 
 And think they are rewarded when their 
 
 sweat 
 
 Brings home a fruitful harvest to their lords ; 
 Let them prove good artificers, and serve 
 
 you 
 
 For use and ornament, but not presume 
 To touch at what is noble. If you think 
 
 them 
 
 Unworthy to taste of those cates you feed on, 
 Or wear such costly garments, will you grant 
 
 them 
 
 The privilege and prerogative of great 
 
 minds, 
 Which you were born to ? Honour won in 
 
 war, 
 
 And to be styled preservers of their country, 
 Are titles fit for free and generous spirits, 
 And not for bondmen : had I been born a 
 
 man, 
 
 And such ne'er-dying glories made the prize 
 To bold heroic courage, by Diana, 
 I would not to my brother, nay, my father, 
 Be bribed to part with the least piece of 
 
 honour 
 I should gain in this action ! 
 
 Timol. She's inspired, 
 
 Or in her speaks the genius of your country, 
 To fire your blood in her defence : I am 
 
 rapt 
 
 With the imagination. Noble maid, 
 Timoleon is your soldier, and will sweat 
 Drops of his best blood, but he will bring 
 
 home 
 
 Triumphant conquest to you. Let me wear 
 Your colours, lady ; and though youthful 
 
 heats, 
 That look no further than your outward 
 
 form, 
 
 Are long since buried in me ; while I live, 
 I am a constant lover of your mind, 
 That does transcend all precedents. 
 
 Cleo. 'Tis an honour, [Gives her scarf. 
 And so I do receive it. 
 
 Con's. Plague upon it ! 
 She has got the start of us : I could even 
 
 burst 
 With envy at her fortune. 
 
 Olymp. A raw young thing ! 
 We have too much tongue sometimes, our 
 
 husbands say, 
 And she outstrip us ! 
 
 Least. I am for the journey. 
 
 Timag. May all diseases sloth and letchery 
 
 bring, 
 Fall upon him that stays at home ! 
 
 Archid. Though old, 
 I will be there in person. 
 
 Diph. So will I : 
 
 Methinks I am not what I was ; her words 
 Have made me younger, by a score of years, 
 Than I was when I came hither. 
 
 Clean. I am still 
 
 Old Cleon, fat and unwieldy ; I shall never 
 Make a good soldier, and therefore desire 
 To be excused at home. 
 
 Asot. 'Tis my suit too : 
 I am a gristle, and these spider fingers 
 Will never hold a sword. Let us alone 
 To rule the slaves at home : I can so yerk 
 them 
 
io6 
 
 THE BONDMAN. 
 
 But in my conscience I shall never prove 
 Good justice in the war. 
 
 Timol, Have your desires ; 
 You would be burthens to us, no way 
 
 aids. 
 
 Lead, fairest, to the temple ; first we'll pay 
 A sacrifice to the gods for good success : 
 For all great actions the wish'd course do 
 
 run, 
 
 That are, with their allowance, well begun. 
 [Exeunt all but Mar. Grac. andCimb. 
 Mar. Stay, Cimbrio and Gracculo. 
 Cimb. The business ? 
 Mar. Meet me to-morrow night near to 
 
 the grove, 
 
 Neighbouring the east part of the city. 
 Grac. Well. 
 Mar. And bring the rest of our condition 
 
 with you : 
 I've something to impart may break our 
 
 fetters, 
 
 If you dare second me. 
 Cimb. We'll not fail. 
 Grac. A cart-rope 
 Shall not bind me at home. 
 
 Mar. Think on't, and prosper. [Exeunt. 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 SCENE I. The Same. A Room in 
 Archidamus's House. 
 
 Enter Archidamus, Timagoras, Leosthenes, 
 with gorgets; and Marullo. 
 
 Archid. So, so, 'tis well : how do I look ? 
 
 Mar. Most sprightfully. 
 
 Archid. I shrink not in the shoulders ; 
 
 though I'm old 
 I'm tough, steel to the back ; I have not 
 
 wasted 
 My stock of strength in feather-beds : here's 
 
 an arm too ; 
 
 There's stuff in't, and I hope will use a sword 
 
 As well as any beardless boy of you all. 
 
 Timag. I'm glad to see you, sir, so well 
 
 prepared 
 To endure the travail of the war. 
 
 Archid. Go to, sirrah ! 
 I shall endure, when some of you keep your 
 
 cabins, 
 
 For all your flaunting feathers ; nay, Leos- 
 thenes, 
 You are welcome too, all friends and fellows 
 
 now. 
 
 Least. Your servant, sir. 
 Archid. Pish! leave these compliments, 
 They stink in a soldier's mouth ; I could be 
 
 merry, 
 For, now my gown's off, farewell gravity ! 
 
 And must be bold to put a question to you, 
 Without offence, I hope. 
 Least. Sir, what you please. 
 Archid. And you will answer truly? 
 Timag. On our words, sir. 
 Archid. Go to, then : I presume you will 
 
 confess 
 
 That you are two notorious whoremasters 
 Nay, spare your blushing, I've been wild 
 
 myself, 
 
 A smack or so for physic does no harm ; 
 Nay, it is physic, if used moderately ; 
 
 But to lie at rack and manger 
 
 Least. Say we grant this, 
 For if we should deny't, you will not believe 
 
 us, 
 Wliat will you infer upon it? 
 
 Archid. What you'll groan for, 
 I fear, when you come to the test. Old 
 
 stories tell us, 
 There's a month call'd October, which 
 
 brings in 
 Cold weather; there are trenches too, 'tis 
 
 rumour'd, 
 In which to stand all night to the knees in 
 
 water, 
 In gallants -breeds the toothach; there's a 
 
 sport too, 
 Named lying perdue, do you mark me? 'ti.? 
 
 a game 
 Which you must learn to play at : now in 
 
 these seasons, 
 
 And choice variety of exercises, 
 (Nay, I come to you,) and fasts, not for de- 
 votion, 
 Your rambling hunt-smock feels strange al- i 
 
 terations ; 
 
 And, in a frosty morning, looks as if 
 He could with ease creep in a pottle-pot, 
 Instead of his mistress' placket. Then he 
 
 curses 
 
 The time he spent in midnight visitations ; 
 And finds what he superfluously parted with, 
 To be reported good at length, and well 
 
 breath'd, 
 
 If but retrieved into his back again, 
 Would keep him warmer than a scarlet 
 
 waistcoat, 
 
 Enter Diphilus and Cleora. 
 
 Or an armour lined with fur O welcome ! 
 
 welcome ! 
 You have cut off my discourse ; but I will 
 
 perfect 
 My lecture in the camp. 
 
 Diph. Come, we are stay'd for; 
 The general's afire for a remove, 
 And longs to be in action. 
 Archid. Tis my wish too. 
 
THE BONDMAN. 
 
 107 
 
 We must part nay, no tears, my best Cleora; 
 I shall melt too, and that were ominous. 
 Millions of blessings on thee ! All that's 
 
 mine 
 I give up to thy charge ; and, sirrah, look 
 
 \To Marullo. 
 
 You with that care and reverence observe her, 
 Which you would pay to me. A kiss ; fare- 
 well, girl! 
 Diph. Peace wait upon you, fair one ! 
 
 {Exeunt Archidamus, Diphilus, and 
 
 Marullo. 
 
 Tima$. 'Twere impertinence 
 To wish you to be careful of your honour, 
 That ever keep in pay a guard about you 
 Of faithful virtues: farewell! Friend, I 
 
 leave you 
 
 j To wipe our kisses off ; I know that lovers 
 j Part with more circumstance and ceremony: 
 Which I give way to. {Exit. 
 
 Leost. 'Tis a noble favour, 
 For which I ever owe you. We are alone ; 
 But how I should begin, or in what language 
 Speak the unwilling word of parting from 
 
 you, 
 I am yet to learn. 
 
 Cleo. And still continue ignorant : 
 For I must be most cruel to myself, 
 If I should teach you. 
 
 Leost. Yet it must be spoken, 
 Or you will chide my slackness. You have 
 
 fired me 
 
 With the heat of noble action to deserve you; 
 And the least spark of honour that took life 
 From your sweet breath, still fann'd by it 
 
 and cherish'd, 
 
 Must mount up in a glorious flame, or I 
 Am much unworthy. 
 
 Cleo. May it not burn here, 
 And, as a seamark, serve to guide true lovers, 
 Toss'd on the ocean of luxurious wishes, 
 Safe from the rocks of lust into the harbour 
 Of pure affection ? rising up an example 
 Which aftertimes shall witness, to our glory, 
 First took from us beginning. 
 
 Leost. 'Tis a happiness 
 My duty to my country, and mine honour 
 Cannot consent to ; besides, add to these, 
 It was your pleasure, fortified by persuasion, 
 And strength of reason, for the general good, 
 That J should go. 
 
 Cleo. Alas ! I then was witty 
 To plead against myself ; and mine eye, fix'd 
 Upon the hill of honour, ne'er descended 
 To look into the vale of certain dangers, 
 Through which you were to cut your passage 
 
 to it. 
 
 Leost. I'll stay at home, then. 
 Cleo. No, that must not be ; 
 
 For so, to serve my own ends, and to gain 
 A petty wreath myself, I rob you of 
 A certain triumph, which must fall upon you. 
 Or Virtue's turn'd a handmaid to blind 
 
 Fortune. 
 
 How is my soul divided ! to confirm you 
 In the opinion of the world, most worthy 
 To be beloved, (with me you're at the height, 
 And can advance no further, ) I must send 
 
 you 
 
 To court the goddess of stern war, who, if 
 She see you with my eyes, will ne'er return 
 
 you, 
 But grow enamour'd of you. 
 
 Leost. Sweet, take comfort ! 
 And what I offer you, you must vouchsafe me 
 Dr I am wretched. All the dangers that 
 I can encounter in the war, are trifles ; 
 My enemies abroad to be contemn'd : 
 The dreadful foes, that have the power to 
 
 hurt me, 
 I leave at home with you. 
 Cleo. With me ! 
 Leost. Nay, in you, 
 
 In every part about you, they are arm'd 
 To fight against me. 
 Cleo. Where? 
 
 Leost. There's no perfection 
 That you are mistress of, but musters up 
 A legion against me, and all sworn 
 To my destruction. 
 Cleo. This is strange ! 
 Leost. But true, sweet ; 
 Excess of love can work such miracles ! 
 Upon this ivory forehead are intrench 'd 
 Ten thousand rivals, and these suns com- 
 mand 
 
 Supplies from all the world, on pain to forfeit 
 Their comfortable beams ; these ruby lips, 
 A rich exchequer to assure their pay : 
 This hand, Sibylla's golden bough to guard 
 
 them 
 Through hell, and horror, to the Elysian 
 
 springs : 
 Which who'll not venture for? and, should 
 
 I name 
 
 Such as the virtues of your mind invite, 
 Their numbers would be infinite. 
 
 Cleo. Can you think 
 I may be tempted ? 
 
 Leost. You were never proved. 
 For me, I have conversed with you no further 
 Than would become a brother. I ne'er tuned 
 Loose notes to your chaste ears ; or brought 
 
 rich presents 
 
 For my artillery, to batter down 
 The fortress of your honour ; nor endeavour'd 
 To make your blood run high at solemn 
 
 feasts, 
 
308 
 
 THE BONDMAN. 
 
 With viands that provoke ; the speeding 
 i philtres : 
 I work'd no bawds to tempt you ; never 
 
 practised 
 
 The cunning and corrupting arts they study, 
 That wander in the wild maze of desire ; 
 Honest simplicity and truth were all 
 The agents I em'ploy'd ; and when I came 
 To see you, it was with that reverence 
 As I beheld the altars of the gods : 
 And Love, that came along with me, was 
 
 taught 
 
 To leave his arrows and his torch behind, 
 Quench 'd in my fear to give offence. 
 
 Cleo. And 'twas 
 That modesty that took me, and preserves 
 
 me, 
 Like a fresh rose, in mine own natural 
 
 sweetness ; 
 Which, sullied with the touch of impure 
 
 hands, 
 Loses both scent and beauty. 
 
 Least. But, Cleora, 
 
 When I am absent, as I must go from you, 
 (Such is the cruelty of my fate,) and leave 
 
 you, 
 
 Unguarded, to the violent assaults 
 Of loose temptations ; when the memory 
 Of my so many years of love and service 
 Is lost in other objects ; when you are 
 
 courted 
 
 By such as keep a catalogue of their con- 
 quests, 
 Won upon credulous virgins ; when nor 
 
 father 
 
 Is here to owe you, brother to advise you, 
 Nor your poor servant by, to keep such off, 
 By lust instructed how to undermine, 
 And blow your chastity up ; when your weak 
 
 senses, 
 
 At once assaulted, shall conspire against you, 
 And play the traitors to your soul, your 
 
 virtue ; 
 How can you stand? 'Faith, though you 
 
 fall, and I 
 The judge, before whom you then stood 
 
 accused, 
 I should acquit you. 
 
 Cleo. Will you then confirm 
 That love and jealousy, though of different 
 
 natures, 
 
 Must of necessity be twins ; the younger 
 Created only to defeat the elder, 
 And spoil him of his birthright ? 'tis not well. 
 But being to part, I will not chide, I will not ; 
 Nor with one syllable or tear, express 
 How deeply I am wounded with the arrows 
 Of your distrust : but when that you shall 
 
 hear, 
 
 At your return, how I have born myself, 
 And what an austere penance I take on me, 
 To satisfy your doubts ; when, like a Vestal, 
 I shew you, to your shame, the fire still 
 
 burning, 
 
 Committed to my charge by true affection, 
 The people joining with you in the wonder ; 
 When, by the glorious splendour of my suf- 
 ferings, 
 
 The prying eyes of jealousy are struck blind, 
 The monster too that feeds on fears, e'en 
 
 starv'd 
 
 For want of seeming matter to accuse me ; 
 Expect, Leosthenes, a sharp reproof 
 From my just anger. 
 Least. What will you do ? 
 Cleo. Obey me, 
 Or from this minute you are a stranger to 
 
 me ; 
 
 And do't without reply. All-seeing sun, 
 Thou witness of my innocence, thus I close 
 Mine eyes against thy comfortable light, 
 Till the return of this distrustful man ! 
 Now bind them sure ; nay, do't : 
 
 \He binds her eyes with her scarf. 
 If, uncompell'd, 
 
 I loose this knot, until the hands that made it 
 Be pleased to untie it, may consuming 
 
 plagues 
 Fall heavy on me ! pray you guide me to 
 
 your Tips. 
 This kiss, when you come back, shall be a 
 
 virgin 
 To bid you welcome ; nay, I have not done 
 
 yet: 
 
 I will continue dumb, and, you once gone, 
 No accent shall come from me. Now to my 
 
 chamber, 
 
 My tomb, if you miscarry : there I'll spend 
 My hours in silent mourning, and thus much 
 Shall be reported of me to my glory, 
 And you confess it, whether I live or die, 
 My chastity triumphs o'er your jealousy. 
 
 {Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE II. The same. A Room in 
 Cleon's House. 
 
 Enter Asotus, driving in Gracculo. 
 
 Asot. You slave ! you dog ! down, cur. 
 
 Grac. Hold, good young master, 
 For pity's sake ! 
 
 Asot. Now am I in my kingdom : 
 Who says I am not valiant ? I begin 
 To frown again : quake, villain ! 
 
 Grac. So I do, sir ! 
 Your looks are agues to me. 
 
 Asot. Are they so, sir ! 
 'Slight, if I had them at this bay that flout me, 
 
THE BONDMAN. 
 
 109 
 
 And say I look like a sheep and an ass, I'd 
 
 make them 
 Feel that I am a lion. 
 
 Grac. Do not roar, sir, 
 As you are a valiant beast : but do you know 
 Why you use me thus ? 
 I Asot. I'll beat thee a little more, 
 Then study for a reason. O ! I have it : 
 One brake a jest on me, and then I swore, 
 (Because I durst not strike him,) when 1 
 
 came home, 
 
 That I would break thy head. 
 Grac. Plague on his mirth ! 
 I'm sure I mourn for't. 
 
 Asot. Remember, too, I charge you, 
 To teach my horse good manners yet ; this 
 
 morning, 
 
 As I rode to take the air, the untutor'd jade 
 Threw me, and kicked me. 
 
 Grac. I thank him for't. [Aside. 
 
 Asot. What's that? 
 
 Grac. I say, sir, I will teach him to hold 
 
 his heels, 
 
 If you will rule your fingers. 
 Asot. I'll think upon't. 
 Grac. I am bruised to jelly : better be a 
 
 dog, 
 
 Than slave to a fool or coward. {Aside. 
 Asot. Here's my mother, 
 
 Enter Corisca and Zanthia. 
 
 She is chastising too : how brave we live, 
 That have our slaves to beat, to keep us in 
 
 breath 
 When we want exercise ! 
 
 Coris. Careless harlotry, [Striking her. 
 Look to't ; if a curl fall, or wind or sun 
 Take my complexion off. I will not leave 
 One hair upon thine head. 
 
 Grac. Here's a second show 
 Of the family of pride ! [Aside. 
 
 Coris. Fie on these wars ! 
 I'm starv'd for want of action; not a 
 
 gamester left 
 
 To keep a woman play. If this world last 
 ; A little longer with us, ladies must study 
 
 Some new-found mystery to cool one another, 
 i We shall burn to cinders else. I have heard 
 
 there have been 
 Such arts in a long vacation ; would they 
 
 were 
 Reveal'd to me ! they have made my doctor, 
 
 too, 
 
 Physician to the army : he was used 
 To serve the turn at a pinch ; but I am now 
 Quite unprovided. 
 
 Asot. My mother-in-law is, sure, 
 At her devotion. 
 
 Coris. There are none but our slaves left, 
 
 Nor are they to be trusted. Some great 
 
 women, 
 
 Which I could name, in a dearth of visitants, 
 Rather than be idle, have been glad to play 
 At small game; but I am so queasy- 
 
 slomach'd, 
 And from my youth have been so used to- 
 
 dainties, 
 I cannot taste such gross meat. Some that 
 
 are hungry 
 
 Draw on their shoemakers, and take a fall 
 From such as mend mats in their galleries ; 
 Or when a tailor settles a petticoat on, 
 Take measure of his bodkin ; fie upon't ! 
 'Tis base ; for my part, I could rather lie with 
 A gallant's breeches, and conceive upon 
 
 them, 
 Than stoop so low. 
 
 Asot. Fair madam, and my mother. 
 Coris. Leave the last out, it smells rank 
 
 of the country, 
 
 And shews coarse breeding ; your true- 
 courtier knows not 
 
 His niece, or sister, from another woman, 
 If she be apt and cunning. I could tempt 
 
 now 
 
 This fool, but he will be so long a working ? 
 Then he's my husband's son : the fitter to 
 Supply his wants ; I have the way already, 
 I'll try if it will take. When were you with 
 Your mistress, fair Cleora ? 
 
 Asot. Two days sithence ; 
 But she's so coy, forsooth, that ere I can 
 Speak a penn'd speech I have bought and 
 
 studied for her, 
 Her woman calls her away. 
 
 Coris. Here's a dull thing ! 
 But better taught, I hope. Send off your 
 
 man. 
 
 Asot. Sirrah, begone. 
 Grac. This is the first good turn 
 She ever did me. [Aside and exit. 
 
 Coris. We'll have a scene of mirth ; 
 I must not have you shamed for want of 
 
 practice. 
 I stand here for Cleora, and, do you hear, 
 
 minion, 
 That you may tell her what her womaiv 
 
 should do, 
 
 Repeat the lesson over that I taught you, 
 When my young lord came to visit me : if 
 
 you miss 
 
 In a syllable or posture 
 
 Zant. I am perfect. 
 
 Asot. Would I were so ! I fear I shall' 
 
 be out. 
 Coris. If you are, I'll help you in. Thus 
 
 I walk musing : 
 You are to enter, and, as you pass by, 
 
THE BONDMAN. 
 
 Salute my woman ; be but bold enough, 
 You'll speed, I warrant you. Begin. 
 
 A sot. Have at it 
 
 Save thee, sweetheart ! a kiss. 
 
 Zant. Venus forbid, sir, 
 I should presume to taste your honour's lips 
 Before my lady. 
 
 Coris. This is well on both parts. 
 
 Asot. How does thy lady ? 
 
 Zant. Happy in your lordship, 
 As oft as she thinks' on you. 
 
 Coris. Very good ; 
 This wench will learn in time. 
 
 A sot. Does she think of me ? 
 
 Zant. O, sir ! and speaks the best of you ; 
 
 admires 
 Your wit, your clothes, discourse ; and 
 
 swears, but that 
 You are not forward enough for a lord, you 
 
 were 
 The most complete and absolute man, I'll 
 
 show 
 Your lordship a secret. 
 
 Asot. Not of thine own? 
 
 Zant. O ! no, sir, 
 
 'Tis of my lady : but, upon your honour, 
 You must conceal it. 
 
 Asot. By all means. 
 
 Zant. Sometimes 
 
 I lie with my lady, as the last night I did ; 
 She could not say her prayers for thinking 
 
 of you : 
 
 Nay, she talk'd of you in her sleep, and 
 sigh'd out, 
 
 sweet Asotus, sure thou art so backward, 
 That I must ravish thee! and in that fer- 
 vour 
 
 She took me in her arms, threw me upon 
 
 her, 
 Kiss'd me, and hugg'd me, and then waked, 
 
 and wept, 
 Because 'twas but a dream. 
 
 Coris. This will bring him on, 
 Or he's a block. A good girl ! 
 
 Asot. I am mad, 
 Till I am at it. 
 
 Zant. Be not put off, sir, 
 With, Away, I dare not ; fit, you are im- 
 modest ; 
 My brother s up ; My father will hear. 
 
 Shoot home, sir, 
 You cannot miss the mark. 
 
 Asot. There's for thy counsel. 
 This is the fairest interlude if it prove 
 earnest, 
 
 1 shall wish I were a player. 
 
 Coris. Now my turn comes. 
 I am exceeding sick, pray you send my 
 page 
 
 For young Asotus, I cannot live without 
 
 him ; 
 
 Pray him to visit me ; yet, when he's present, j 
 I must be strange to him. 
 
 Asot. Not so, you are caught : 
 Lo, whom you wish ; behold Asotus here ! i 
 Coris. You wait well, minion ; shortly I > 
 
 shall not speak 
 My thoughts in my private chamber, but ! 
 
 they must 
 
 Lie open to discovery. 
 Asot. 'Slid, she's angry. 
 Zant. No, no, sir, she but seems so. To 
 
 her again. 
 Asot. Lady, I would descend to kiss your 
 
 hand, 
 But that 'tis gloved, and civet makes me 
 
 sick; 
 
 And to presume to taste your lip's not safe, 
 Your woman by. 
 
 Coris. I hope she's no observer 
 Of whom I grace. [Zanthia looks on a book. 
 Asot. She's at her book, O rare ! 
 
 [Kisses her. 
 
 Coris. A kiss for entertainment is suffi- 
 cient ; 
 Too much of one dish cloys me. 
 
 Asot. I would serve in 
 The second course ; but still i fear your 
 
 woman. 
 Coris. You are very cautelous. 
 
 [Zanthia seems to sleep. 
 Asot. 'Slight, she's asleep ! 
 'Tis pity these instructions are not printed ; 
 They would sell well to chambermaids. 'Tis 
 
 no time now 
 To play with my good fortune, and your 
 
 favour ; 
 
 Yet to be taken, as they say : a scout, 
 To give the signal when the enemy comes, 
 
 [Exeunt Zanthia. 
 
 Were nowworth gold. She's gone to watch. 
 A waiter so train'd up were worth a million 
 To a wanton city madam. 
 
 Coris. You are grown conceited. 
 
 Asot. You teach me. Lady, now your 
 
 cabinet 
 
 Coris. You speak as it were yours. 
 Asot. When we are there, 
 I'll shew you my best evidence. [Seizing her. 
 
 Coris. Hold ! you forget, 
 1 only play Cleora's part. 
 
 Asot. No matter, 
 
 Now we've begun, let's end the act. 
 Coris. Forbear, sir ; 
 
 Your father's wife ! 
 
 Asot. Why, being his heir, I am bound, 
 Since he can make no satisfaction to you, 
 To see his debts paid. 
 
THE BONDMAN. 
 
 in 
 
 Re-enter Zanthia running. 
 Zant. Madam, my lord ! 
 Cor is. Fall off: 
 I must trifle with the time too, hell confound 
 
 it ! 
 Asot. Plague on his toothless chaps ! he 
 
 cannot do't 
 
 Himself, yet hinders such as have good 
 stomachs. 
 
 Enter Cleon. 
 Cleon. Where are you, wife? I fain 
 
 would go abroad, 
 But cannot find my slaves that bear my 
 
 litter ; 
 I am tired. Your shoulder, son ; nay, 
 
 sweet, thy hand, too : ' 
 A turn or two in the garden, and then to 
 
 supper, 
 And so to bed. 
 
 Asot. Never to rise, I hope, more. [Aside. 
 {Exeunt, 
 
 SCENE III. A Grove near the Walls of 
 
 Syracuse. 
 Enter Marullo and Poliphron. A Table 
 
 set out -with Wine, &>c. 
 Mar. 'Twill take, I warrant thee. 
 Poliph. You may do your pleasure ; 
 But, in my judgment, better to make use of 
 The present opportunity. 
 Afar. No more. 
 Poliph. I am silenced. 
 Mar. More wine ; prithee drink hard, 
 
 friend, 
 And when we're hot, whatever I propound, 
 
 Enter Cimbrio, Gracculo, and other Slaves. 
 Second with vehemence. Men of your 
 
 words, all welcome ! 
 Slaves use no ceremony ; sit down, here's a 
 
 health. 
 Poliph. Let it run round, fill every man 
 
 his glass. 
 Grac. We look for no waiters ; this is 
 
 wine ! 
 
 Mar. The better, 
 Strong, lusty wine : drink deep, this juice 
 
 will make us 
 As free as our lords. {Drinks. 
 
 Grac. But if they find we taste it, 
 We are all damn'd to the quarry during life, 
 Without hope of redemption. 
 
 Mar. Pish ! for that 
 
 We'll talk anon : another rouse ! we lose 
 time ; {Drinks. 
 
 When our low blood's wound up a little 
 higher, 
 
 I'll offer my design ; nay, we are cold yet ; 
 These glasses contain nothing ; do me 
 
 right, [ Takes the bottle. 
 
 As e'er you hope for liberty. 'Tis done 
 
 bravely ; 
 Plow do you feel yourselves now ? 
 
 Cimb. I begin 
 To have strange conundrums in my head. 
 
 Grac. And I 
 To loath base water : I would be hang'd in 
 
 peace now, 
 For one month of such holidays. 
 
 Mar. An age, boys, 
 And yet defy the whip ; if you are men, 
 Or dare believe you have souls. 
 Cimb. We are no brokers. 
 Grac. Nor whores, whose marks are out 
 
 of their mouths, they have none ; 
 They hardly can get salt enough to keep 
 
 them 
 From stinking above ground. 
 
 Mar. Our lords are no gods 
 
 Grac. They are devils to us, I am sure. 
 Mar. But subject to 
 Cold, hunger, and diseases. 
 
 Grac. In abundance. 
 Your lord that feels no ach in his chine at 
 
 twenty, 
 Forfeits his privilege ; how should their 
 
 surgeons build else, 
 Or ride on their footcloths? 
 
 Mar. Equal Nature fashion'd us 
 All in one mould. The bear serves not the 
 
 bear, 
 Nor the wolf the wolf ; 'twas odds of strength 
 
 in tyrants, 
 That pluck'd the first link from the golden 
 
 chain 
 With which that THING OF THINGS bound 
 
 in the world. 
 Why then, since we are taught, by their 
 
 examples, 
 
 To love our liberty, if not command, 
 Should the strong serve the weak, the fair, 
 
 deform 'd ones ? 
 Or such as know the cause of things, pay 
 
 tribute 
 To ignorant fools? All's but the outward 
 
 gloss, 
 
 And politic form, that does distinguish us. 
 Cimbrio, thou art a strong man ; if, in place 
 Of carrying burthens, thou hadst been train'd 
 
 up 
 In martial discipline, thou might'st have 
 
 proved 
 
 A general, fit to lead and fight for Sicily, 
 As fortunate as Timoleon. 
 Cimb. A little fighting 
 Will serve a general's turn. 
 
THE BONDMAN. 
 
 Mar. Thou, Gracculo, 
 Hast fluency of language, quick conceit ; 
 And, I think, cover'd with a senator's robe, 
 Formally set on the bench, thou wouldst 
 
 appear 
 As brave a senator. 
 
 Grac. Would I had lands, 
 Or money to buy a place ! and if I did 
 
 not 
 Sleep on the bench with the drowsiest of 
 
 them, play with my chain, 
 Look on my watch, when my guts chimed 
 
 twelve, and wear 
 A state beard, with my barber's help, rank 
 
 with them 
 In their most choice peculiar gifts ; degrade 
 
 me, 
 
 And put me to drink water again, which, now 
 I have tasted wine, were poison ! 
 
 Mar. 'Tis spoke nobly, 
 And like agownman : none of these, I think 
 
 too, 
 But would prove good burghers. 
 
 Grac. Hum ! the fools are modest ; 
 I know their insides : here's an ill-faced 
 
 fellow, 
 
 (But that will not be seen in a dark shop,) 
 If he did not in a month learn to outswear, 
 In the selling of his wares, the cunning'st 
 
 tradesman 
 
 In Syracuse, I have no skill. Here's another, 
 Observe but what a cozening look he has ! 
 Hold up thy head, man ; if, for drawing 
 
 gallants 
 Into mortgages for commodities, cheating 
 
 heirs 
 With your new counterfeit gold thread, and 
 
 gumm'd velvets, 
 He does not transcend all that went before 
 
 him, 
 Call in his patent : pass the rest ; they'll all 
 
 make 
 
 Sufficient beccos, and, with their brow- 
 antlers, 
 Bear up the cap of maintenance. 
 
 Mar. Is't not pity, then, 
 Men of such eminent virtues should be 
 
 slaves ? 
 
 Cimb. Our fortune. 
 Mar. 'Tis your folly ; daring men 
 Command and make their fates. Say, at 
 
 this instant, 
 
 I mark'd you out a way to liberty ; 
 Possess' d you of those blessings, our proud 
 
 lords 
 So long have surfeited in ; and, what is 
 
 sweetest, 
 Arm you with power, by strong hand to 
 
 revenge 
 
 Your stripes, your unregarded toil, the pride 
 
 The insolence of such as tread upon 
 
 Your patient sufferings ; fill your famish 'd 
 
 mouths 
 With the fat and plenty of the land ; redeem 
 
 you 
 From the dark vale of servitude, and seat 
 
 you 
 
 Upon a hill of happiness ; what would you do 
 To purchase this, and more? 
 
 Grac. Do ! any thing : 
 To burn a church or two, and dance by the 
 
 light on't, 
 Were but a May-game. 
 
 Poliph. I have a father living ; 
 But, if the cutting of his throat could work 
 
 this, 
 He should excuse me. 
 
 Cimb. 'Slight ! I would cut mine own, 
 Rather than miss it ; so I might but have 
 A taste on't, ere I die. 
 
 Mar. Be resolute men ; 
 You shall run no such hazard, nor groan 
 
 under 
 
 The burthen of such crying sins. 
 Cimb. The means ? 
 Grac. I feel a woman's longing. 
 Poliph. Do not torment us 
 With expectation. 
 
 Mar. Thus, then : Our proud masters. 
 And all the able freemen of the city, 
 
 Are gone unto the wars 
 
 Poliph. Observe but that. 
 Mar. Old men, and such as can make no> 
 resistance, 
 
 Are only left at home 
 
 Grac. And the proud young fool, 
 My master if this take, I'll hamper him. 
 Mar. Their arsenal, their treasure 's in 
 
 our power, 
 If we have hearts to seize them. If our lords 
 
 fall 
 In the present action, the whole country's 
 
 ours ; 
 
 Say they return victorious, we have means 
 To keep the town against them ; at the worst. 
 To make our own conditions. Now, if you 
 
 dare 
 Fall on their daughters and their wives,. 
 
 break up 
 
 Their iron chests, banquet on their rich beds, 
 And carve yourselves of all delights and 
 
 pleasures 
 You have been barr'd from, with one voice 
 
 cry with me, 
 Liberty ! liberty ! 
 All. Liberty ! liberty ! 
 Mar. Go then, and take possession ; use- 
 all freedom ; 
 
THE BONDMAN. 
 
 "3 
 
 But shed no blood. [Exeunt Slaves.] So, 
 
 this is well begun ; 
 But not to be commended, till't be done. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 SCENE I. The same. A Gallery in 
 
 Archidamus's House. 
 Enter Marullo and Timandra. 
 Mar. Why, think you that I plot against 
 
 myself ? 
 Fear nothing, you are safe : these thick- 
 
 skinn'd slaves, 
 
 I use as instruments to serve my ends, 
 Pierce not my deep designs ; nor shall they 
 
 dare 
 To lift an arm against you. 
 
 Timand. With your will. 
 But turbulent spirits, raised beyond them- 
 selves 
 With ease, are not so soon laid ; they oft 
 
 prove 
 Dangerous to him that call'd them up. 
 
 Mar. 'Tis true, 
 
 In what is rashly undertook. Long since 
 I have considered seriously their natures, 
 Proceeded with mature advice, and know 
 I hold their will and faculties in more awe 
 Than I can do my own. Now, for their 
 
 license, 
 
 And riot in the city, I can make 
 A just defence and use : it may appear too 
 A politic prevention of such ills 
 As might, with greater violence and danger, 
 Hereafter be attempted ; though some smart 
 
 for't, 
 
 It matters not : however, I'm resolved ; 
 And sleep you with security. Holds Cleora 
 Constant to her rash vow ? 
 Timand. Beyond belief ; 
 To me, that see her hourly, it seems a fable. 
 By signs I guess at her commands, and serve 
 
 them 
 With silence; such her pleasure is, made 
 
 known 
 
 By holding her fair hand thus. She eats little, 
 Sleeps less, as I imagine ; once a day 
 I lead her to this gallery, where she walks 
 Some half a dozen turns, and, having offer'cl 
 To her absent saint a sacrifice of sighs, 
 She points back to her prison. 
 
 Mar. Guide her hither, 
 And make her understand the slaves' revolt ; 
 And, with your utmost eloquence, enlarge 
 Their insolence, and rapes done in the city. 
 Forget not too, I am their chief, and tell her 
 You strongly think my extremedotage on her, 
 
 As I'm Marullo, caused this sudden uproar, 
 To make way to enjoy her. 
 
 Timand. Punctually 
 I will discharge my part. [Exit. 
 
 Enter Poliphron. 
 Poliph. O, sir, I sought you : 
 You've missed the best sport ! Hell, I think's 
 
 broke loose ; 
 
 There's such variety of all disorders, 
 As leaping, shouting, drinking, dancing, 
 
 whoring, 
 Among the slaves ; answer 'd with crying, 
 
 howling, 
 
 By the citizens and their wives ; such a con- 
 fusion, 
 
 In a word, not to tire you, as I think, 
 The like was never read of. 
 
 Mar. I share in 
 The pleasure, though I'm absent. This is i 
 
 some 
 
 Revenge for my disgrace. 
 Poliph. But, sir, I fear, 
 If your authority restrain them not, 
 They'll fire the city, or kill one another, 
 They are so apt to outrage ; neither know I 
 Whether you wish it, and came therefore to 
 Acquaint you with so much. 
 Mar. I will among them ; 
 But must not long be absent. 
 Poliph. At your pleasure. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE II. The same. A Room in the 
 
 same. 
 
 Shouts within. EuterCleora. and Timandra. 
 Timand. They are at our gates : my heart ! 
 
 affrights and horrors 
 Increase each minute. No way left to save 
 
 us, 
 
 No flattering hope to comfort us, or means, 
 But miracle, to redeem us from base lust 
 And lawless rapine ! Are there gods, yet 
 
 suffer 
 
 Such innocent sweetness to be made the spoil 
 Of brutish appetite ? or since they decree 
 To ruin nature's masterpiece, of which 
 They have not left one pattern, must they 
 
 choose, 
 
 To set their tyranny off, slaves to pollute 
 The spring of chastity, and poison it 
 With their most loath'd embraces ? and, of 
 
 those, 
 
 He that should offer up his life to guard it, 
 Marullo, curs'd Marullo, your own bond- 
 man, 
 Purchased to serve you, and fed by your 
 
 favours ? 
 Nay, start not : it is he : he, the grand 
 
 captain 
 
 I 
 
I ii4 
 
 THE BONDMAN. 
 
 Of these libidinous beasts, that have not left j Than to relate my sufferings, which I dare 
 
 One cruel act undone, that barbarous con- 
 quest 
 
 Yet ever practised in a captive city, 
 
 He, doating on your beauty, and to have 
 fellows 
 
 In his foul sin, hath raised these mutinous 
 slaves, 
 
 Who have begun the game by violent rapes 
 
 Upon the wives and daughters of their 
 lords : 
 
 And he, to quench the fire of his base lust, 
 
 By force, comes to enjoy you do not wring 
 
 Your innocent hands, 'tis bootless ; use the 
 means 
 
 That may preserve you. 'Tis no crime to 
 break 
 
 not 
 
 Presume to do, till, by some gracious sign, 
 You shew you are pleased to hear me. 
 
 Timand. If you are, 
 Hold forth your right hand. 
 
 [Cleora holds forth her right hand. 
 Mar. So, 'tis done ; and I 
 With my glad lips seal humbly on your foot, 
 My soul's thanks for the favour : I forbear 
 To tell you who I am, what wealth, what 
 
 honours 
 
 I made exchange of, to become your ser- 
 vant: 
 
 And, though I knew worthy Leosthenes 
 (For sure he must be worthy, for whose love | 
 You have endured so much) to be my rival ; 
 
 A vow when you are forced to it ; shew your When rage and jealousy counsell'd me to : 
 face, kill him, 
 
 majesty of commanding 
 
 And with the 
 
 beauty, 
 
 Strike dead his loose affections : if that fail, 
 Give liberty to your tongue, and use en- 
 treaties ; 
 
 There cannot be a breast of flesh and blood, 
 Or heart so made of flint, but must receive 
 Impression from your words ; or eyes so 
 
 stern, 
 
 But, from the clear reflection of your tears, 
 Must melt, and. bear them company. Will 
 
 you not 
 Do these good offices to yourself? poor I, 
 
 then, 
 Can only weep your fortune : here he comes. 
 
 Enter Marullo, speaking at the door. 
 
 Mar. He that advances 
 A foot beyond this, comes upon my sword : 
 You have had your ways, disturb not mine. 
 
 Timand. Speak gently, 
 Her fears may kill her else. 
 
 Mar. Now Love inspire me ! 
 Still shall this canopy of envious night 
 Obscure my suns of comfort? and those 
 
 dainties 
 
 Of purest white and red, which I take in at 
 My greedy eyes, denied my famish'd 
 
 senses? 
 
 The organs of your hearing yet are open ; 
 And you infringe no vow, though you vouch- 
 safe 
 
 I To give them warrant to convey unto 
 I Your understanding parts the story of 
 
 A tortured and despairing lover, whom 
 j Not fortune but affection marks your slave : 
 j Shake not, best lady ! for b^liev't, you are 
 As far from danger'as I am from force : 
 Ail violence i shall offer, tends no further 
 
 Which then I could have done with much 
 
 more ease, 
 Than now, in fear to grieve you, I dare 
 
 speak it, 
 
 Love, seconded with duty, boldly told me 
 The man I hated, fair Cleora favour'd : 
 And that was his protection. [Cleora bows. 
 
 Timand. See, she bows 
 Her head in sign of thankfulness. 
 
 Mar. He removed by 
 
 The occasion of the war, (my fires increasing 
 By being closed and stopp'd up,) frantic ' 
 
 affection 
 
 Prompted me to do something in his absence, 
 That might deliver you into my power, 
 Which you see is eftected : and, even now, 
 When my rebellious passions chide my dul- 
 
 ness, 
 
 And tell me how much I abuse my fortunes,. 
 Now it is in my power to bear you hence, 
 
 [Cleora starts. 
 Or take my wishes here, (nay, fear not, 
 
 madam, 
 
 True love's a servant, brutish lust a tyrant,} 
 I dare not touch those viands that ne'er 
 
 taste well, 
 But when they're freely offer 'd : only thus 
 
 much, 
 Be pleased I may speak in my own dear 
 
 cause, 
 
 And think it worthy your consideration, 
 (I have loved truly, cannot say deserved, 
 Since duty must not take the name of merit,) 
 That I so far prize your content, before 
 All blessings that my hope can fashion to me, 
 That willingly I entertain despair, 
 And, for your sake, embrace it : for I know, 
 This opportunity lost, by no endeavour 
 The like can he recover'd. To conclude; 
 Forget not, that I lose myself to save you : 
 
THE BONDMAN. 
 
 For what can I expect but death and torture, 
 The war being ended ? and, what is a task 
 Would trouble Hercules to undertake, 
 I do deny you to myself, to give you, 
 A pure unspotted present, to my rival. 
 I have said : If it distaste not, best of virgins, 
 Reward my temperance with some lawful 
 
 favour, 
 Though you contemn my person. 
 
 [Cleora kneels, then pulls off her glove, 
 
 and offers her hand to Marullo. 
 Timand. See, she kneels ; 
 And seems to call upon the gods to pay 
 The debt she owes your virtue : to perform 
 
 which, 
 
 As a sure pledge of friendship, she vouch- 
 safes you 
 Her fair right hand. 
 
 Mar. I am paid for all my sufferings. 
 Now, when you please, pass to your pri- 
 vate chamber : 
 My love and duty, faithful guards, shall 
 
 keep you 
 From all disturbance ; and when you are 
 
 sated 
 
 With thinking of Leosthenes, as a fee 
 Due to my service, spare one sigh for me. 
 \Exeunt. Cleora makes a low courtesy 
 as she goes off. 
 
 SCENE III. The same. A Room in 
 
 Cleon's House. 
 Enter Gracculo, leading Asotus in an apes 
 
 habit, with a chain about his neck ; Zan- 
 
 thia in Corisca's clothes, she bearing up 
 
 her train. 
 
 Grac. Come on, sir. 
 
 Asot. Oh ! 
 
 Grac. Do you grumble? you were ever 
 A brainless ass ; but if this hold, I'll teach 
 
 you 
 
 To come aloft and do tricks' like an ape. 
 Your morning's lesson : if you miss 
 
 Asot. O no, sir. 
 
 Grac. What for the Carthaginians? 
 
 [Asotus makes moppet.'] A good_beast. 
 
 your lor " 
 Exceeding well. 
 
 What for ourself, yo'ur lord? [Dances.'] 
 
 There's your reward. [Gives him an apple .] 
 
 Not kiss your paw ! So, so, so. 
 Zant. Was ever lady, the first day of her 
 
 honour, 
 So waited on by a wrinkled crone? She 
 
 looks no\v, 
 
 Without her painting, curling, and perfumes, 
 Like the last day of January ; and stinks 
 
 worse 
 Than a hot brache in the dogdays. Further 
 
 off! 
 
 So stand there like an image ; if you stir, 
 Till, with a quarter of a look, I call you, 
 You know what follows. 
 
 Coris. O, what am I fallen to ! 
 But 'tis a punishment for my lust and 
 
 pride, 
 Justly return'd upon me. 
 
 Grac. How dost thou like 
 Thy ladyship, Zanthia? 
 
 Zant. Very well ; and bear it 
 With as much state as your lordship. 
 
 Grac. Give me thy hand : 
 Let us, like conquering Romans, walk in 
 
 triumph, 
 Our captives following ; then mount our 
 
 tribunals, 
 And make the slaves our footstools. 
 
 Zant. Fine, by Jove ! 
 Are your hands clean, minion? 
 
 Coris. Yes, forsooth. 
 
 Zant. Fall off then. 
 So ! now come on ; and having made your 
 
 three duties 
 
 Down, I say are you stiff in the hams? 
 
 now kneel, 
 And tie our shoe : now kiss it, and be happy, 
 
 Grac. This is state, indeed ! 
 
 Zant. It is such as she taught me ; 
 A tickling itch of greatness, your proud ladies 
 Expect from their poor waiters : we have 
 
 changed parts ; 
 She does what she forced me to do in her 
 
 reign, 
 And I must practise it in mine. 
 
 Grac. 'Tis justice : 
 
 ! here come more. 
 
 Enter Cimbrio, Cleon, Poliphron, and 
 Olympia. 
 
 Cimb. Discover to a drachma, 
 Or I will famish thee. 
 
 Cleon. O ! I am pined already. 
 
 Cimb. Hunger shall force thee to cut off 
 
 the brawns 
 From thy arms and thighs, then broil them 
 
 on the coals 
 For carbonadoes. 
 
 Poliph. Spare the old jade, he's founder'd, 
 
 Grac. Cut his throat then, 
 And hang him out for a scarecrow. 
 
 Poliph. You have all your wishes 
 In your revenge, and I have mine. You sea 
 
 1 use no tyranny : when I was her slave, 
 She kept me as a sinner, to lie at her back 
 In f rosi y n ights, and fed me I .igh with dainties, 
 Which 'still she had in her belly again urc 
 
 morning ; 
 And in requital of those courtesies, 
 
THE BONDMAN. 
 
 Having made one another free, we are mar- 
 ried : 
 
 And, if you wish us joy, join with us in 
 A dance at our wedding. 
 
 Grac. Agreed ; for f have thought of 
 A most triumphant one, which shall express 
 We are lords, and these our slaves. 
 
 Poliph. But we shall want 
 A woman. 
 
 Grac. No, here's Jane-of-apes shall serve; 
 Carry your body swimming. Where's the 
 music? 
 
 Poliph. \ have placed it in yon window. 
 
 Grac. Begin then sprightly. 
 
 [Music, and then a dance. 
 
 Enter Marullo behind. 
 
 Poliph. Well done on all sides ! I have 
 
 prepared a banquet ; 
 ! Let's drink and cool us. 
 Grac. A good motion. 
 Cimb. Wait here ; 
 You have been tired with feasting, learn to 
 
 fast now. 
 Grac. I'll have an apple for jack, and may 
 
 be some scraps 
 May fall to your share. 
 
 {Exeunt Grac. Zant Cimb. Poliph. 
 
 and Olymp. 
 
 Coris. Whom can we accuse 
 But ourselves, for what we suffer? Thou art 
 
 just, 
 
 Thou all-creating Power ! and misery 
 Instructs me now, that yesterday acknow- 
 ledged 
 
 No deity beyond my lust and pride, 
 There is a heaven above us, that looks down 
 With the eyes of justice, upon such as number 
 Those blesdngs freely given, in the accompt 
 Of their poor merits : else it could not be, 
 Now miserable I, to please whose palate 
 The elements were ransack'd, yet complain'd 
 Of nature, as not liberal enough 
 In her provision of rarities 
 . To sooth my taste, and pamper my proud flesh, 
 Should wish in vain for bread. 
 
 Cleon. Yes, I do wish too, 
 '. For what I fed my dogs with. 
 
 Cons. I, that forgot 
 I was made of flesh and blood, and thought 
 
 the silk 
 Spun by the diligent worm out of their 
 
 entrails, 
 Too coarse to clothe me, and the softest 
 
 down 
 
 Too hard to sleep on ; that disdain'd to look 
 On virtue being in rags, thatstopp'd my nose 
 At those that did not use adulterate arts 
 
 To better nature ; that from those that served 
 
 me 
 
 Expected adoration, am made justly 
 The scorn of my own bondwoman. 
 
 Asot. I am punish 'd, 
 For seeking to cuckold mine own natural 
 
 father : 
 
 Had I been gelded then, or used myself 
 Like a man, I had not been transform'd, and 
 
 forced 
 
 To play an overgrown ape. 
 Cleon. I know I cannot 
 Last long, that's all my comfort. Come, I 
 
 forgive both : 
 
 'Tis in vain to be angry ; let us, therefore, 
 Lament together like friends. 
 Afar. What a true mirror 
 Were this sad spectacle for secure greatness ! 
 Here they, that never see themselves, but in 
 The glass of servile flattery, might behold 
 The weak foundation upon which they build 
 Their trust in human frailty. Happy are ; 
 
 those, 
 
 That knowing, in their births, they are sub- 
 ject to 
 Uncertain change, are still prepared, and 
 
 arm'd 
 
 For either fortune : a rare principle, 
 And with much labour, learn'd in wisdom's j 
 
 school ! 
 
 For, as these bondmen, by their actions, shew ; 
 That their prosperity, like too large a sail 
 For their small bark of judgment, sinks them | 
 
 with 
 
 A fore-right gale of liberty, ere they reach 
 The port they long to touch at : so these 
 
 wretches, 
 
 Swollen with the false opinion of their worth, 
 And proud of blessings left them, not ac- 
 quired ; 
 
 That did believe they could with giant arms 
 Fathom the earth, and were above their fates, 
 Those borrow'd helps, that did support them, 
 
 vanish'd, 
 
 Fall of themselves, and by unmanly suffering, 
 Betray their proper weakness, and make 
 
 known 
 Their boasted greatness was lent, not their 
 
 own. 
 
 Cleon. O for some meat ! they sit long. 
 Coris. We forgot, 
 When we drew out intemperate feasts till 
 
 midnight ; 
 Their hunger was not thought on, nor their 
 
 watchings ; 
 Nor did we hold ourselves served to the 
 
 height, 
 
 But when we did exact and force their duties 
 Beyond their strength and power. 
 
THE BONDMAN. 
 
 117 
 
 Asot. We pay for 't now : 
 I now could be content to have my head 
 Broke with a rib of beef, or, for a coffin, 
 Be buried in the dripping-pan. 
 
 Re-enter Poliphron, Cimbrio, Gracculo, 
 Zanthia, and Olympia, drunk and quar- 
 relling. 
 
 Cimb. Do not hold me : 
 Not kiss the bride ! 
 
 Poliph. No, sir. 
 
 Cimb. She's common good, 
 And so we'll use her. 
 
 Grac. We'll have nothing private. 
 
 Mar. \coming fonvard.^ Hold 1 
 
 Zant. Here's Marullo. 
 
 Olymp. He's your chief. 
 
 Cimb. We are equals ; 
 I will know no obedience. 
 
 Grac. Nor superior^ 
 Nay, if you are lion drunk, I will make one ; 
 For lightly ever he that parts the fray, 
 Goes away with the blows. 
 
 Mar. Art Ihou mad too ? 
 No more, as you respect me. 
 
 Poliph. I obey, sir. 
 
 Mar. Quarrel among yourselves ! 
 
 Cimb. Yes, in our wine, sir, 
 And for our wenches. 
 
 Grac, How could we be lords else ? 
 
 Mar. Take heed; I've news will cool this 
 
 heat, and make you 
 Remember what you were. 
 
 Cimb. How ! 
 
 Mar. Send off these, 
 And then I'll tell you. 
 
 [Zanthia beats Corisca. 
 
 Olymp. This is tyranny, 
 Now she offends not. 
 
 Zant. 'Tis for exercise, 
 And to help digestion. What is she good 
 
 for else ? 
 To me, it was her language. 
 
 Mar. Lead her off. 
 And take heed, madam minx, the wheel 
 
 may turn. 
 Go to your meat, and rest ; and from this 
 
 hour 
 
 Remember, he that is a lord to-day, 
 May be a slave to-morrow. 
 
 Clean. Good morality ! 
 
 [Exeunt Cleon, Asot. Zant. Olymp. 
 and Coris. 
 
 Cimb. But what would you impart ? 
 
 Mar. What must invite you 
 To stand upon your guard, and leave your 
 
 feasting ; 
 Or but imagine what it is to be 
 
 Most miserable, and rest assured you are so. 
 Our masters are victorious. 
 All. How! 
 Mar. Within 
 
 A day's march of the city, flesh'd with spoil, 
 And proud of conquest ; the armado sunk, 
 1 he Carthaginian admiral, hand to hand, 
 Slain by Leosthenes. 
 
 Cimb. I feel the whip 
 Upon my back already. 
 
 Grac. Every man 
 
 Seek a convenient tree, and hang himself. 
 Poliph. Better die once, than live an age 
 
 to suffer 
 
 New tortures every hour. 
 Cimb. Say, we submit, 
 And yield us to their mercy ? 
 
 Mar. Can you flatter 
 Yourselves with such false hopes ? Or dare 
 
 you think 
 
 That your imperious lords, that never fail'd 
 To punish with severity petty slips 
 In your neglect of labour, may be won 
 To pardon those licentious outrages 
 Which noble enemies forbear to practise 
 Upon the conquer'd? What have yott 
 
 omitted, 
 That may call on their just revenge with 
 
 horror, 
 
 And studied cruelty ? we have gone too far 
 To think now of retiring ; in our courage, 
 And daring, lies our safety : if you are not 
 Slaves in your abject minds, as in your 
 
 fortunes. 
 
 Since to die is the worst, better expose 
 Our naked breasts to their keen swords, 
 
 and sell 
 Our lives with the most advantage, than to 
 
 trust 
 
 In a forestall'd remission, or yield up 
 Our bodies to the furnace of their fury, 
 Thrice heated with revenge. 
 Grac. You led us on. 
 Cimb. And 'tis but justice you should 
 
 bring us off. 
 
 Grac. And we expect it. 
 Mar. Hear then, and obey me ; 
 And I will either save you, or fall with you. 
 Man the walls strongly, and make good the 
 
 ports ; 
 
 Boldly deny their entrance, and rip up 
 Your grievances, and what compell'd you to 
 This desperate course : if they disdain to hear 
 Of composition, we have in our powers 
 Their aged fathers, children, and their wives, 
 Who, to preserve themselves, must willingly 
 Make intercession for us. Tis not time 
 
 now 
 To talk, but do : a glorious end, or freedom, 
 
THE BONDMAN. 
 
 Is now proposed us ; stand resolved for either, 
 And, like good fellows, live or die together. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE IV. The Country near Syracuse. 
 The Camp 0/Timoleon. 
 
 Enter Leosthenes and Timagoras. 
 Timag. lam so far from envy, I am proud 
 You have outstripp'd me in the race of 
 
 honour. 
 
 O 'twas a glorious day, and bravely won ! 
 Your bold performance gave such lustre to 
 Timoleon's wise directions, as the army 
 Rests doubtful, to whom they stand most 
 
 engaged 
 For their so great success. 
 
 Least. The gods first honour 'd, 
 The glory be the general's ; 'tis far from me 
 To be his rival. 
 
 Timag. You abuse your fortune, 
 To entertain her choice and gracious favours 
 With a contracted brow ; plumed Victory 
 Is truly painted with a cheerful look, 
 Equally distant from proud insolence, 
 And base dejection. 
 
 Least. O, Timagoras, 
 You only are acquainted with the cause 
 That loads my sad heart with a hill of lead ; 
 Whose ponderous weight, neither my new- 
 got honour, 
 
 Assisted by the general applause 
 The soldier crowns it with, nor all war's 
 
 glories, 
 
 Can lessen or remove : and, would you please, 
 With fit consideration, to remember 
 How much I wrong'd Cleora's innocence 
 With my rash doubts ; and what a grievous 
 
 penance 
 
 She did impose upon her tender sweetness, 
 To pluck away the vulture, jealousy, 
 That fed upon my liver ; you cannot blame 
 
 me, 
 
 But call it a fit justice on myself, 
 Though I resolve to be a stranger to 
 The thought of mirth or pleasure. 
 
 Tima$. You have redeem'd 
 The forfeit of your fault with such a ransom 
 Of honourable action, as my sister 
 Must of necessity confess her sufferings, 
 Weigh 'd down by your fair merits ; and, 
 
 when she views you, 
 Like a triumphant conqueror, carried 
 
 through 
 
 The streets of Syracusa, the glad people 
 Pressing to meet you, and the senators 
 Contending who shall heap most honours on 
 
 you ; 
 The oxen, crown'd with garlands, led before 
 
 you, 
 
 Appointed for the sacrifice ; and the altars 
 Smoaking with thankful incense to the gods : 
 The soldiers chanting loud hymns to your 
 
 praise, 
 The windows fill'd with matrons and with 
 
 virgins, 
 
 Throwing upon your head, as you pass by, 
 The choicest flowers, and silently invoking 
 The queen of love, with their particular vows, 
 To be thought worthy of you ; can Cleora 
 (Though, in the glass of self-love, she behold 
 Her best deserts) but with all joy acknow- 
 ledge, 
 
 What she endured was but a noble trial 
 You made of her affection ? and her anger, 
 Rising from your too amorous cares, soon 
 
 drench 'd 
 
 In Lethe, and forgotten. 
 Least. If those glories 
 You so set forth were mine, they might plead 
 
 for me ; 
 
 But I can lay no claim to the least honour 
 Which you, with foul injustice, ravish from 
 
 her. 
 
 Her beauty in me wrought a miracle, 
 Taught me to aim at things beyond my 
 
 power, 
 Which her perfections purchased, and gave 
 
 to me 
 
 From her free bounties ; she inspired me with 
 That valour which I dare not call mine own ; 
 And, from the fair reflexion of her mind, 
 My soul received the sparkling beams of 
 
 courage. 
 
 She, from the magazine of her proper good- 
 ness, 
 Stock'd me with virtuous purposes ; sent me 
 
 forth 
 To trade for honour ; and, she being the 
 
 owner 
 Of the bark of my adventures, I must yield 
 
 her 
 
 A just account of all, as fits a factor. 
 And, howsoever others think me happy, 
 And cry aloud, I have made a prosperous 
 
 voyage ; 
 
 One frown of her dislike at my return. 
 Which, as a punishment for my fault, I 
 
 look for, 
 Strikes dead all comfort. 
 
 Timag. Tush ! these fears are needless ; 
 She cannot, must not, shall not, be so cruel. 
 A free confession of a fault wins pardon, 
 But, being seconded by desert, commands it. 
 The general is your own, and, sure, my 
 
 father 
 
 Repents his harshness ; for myself, I am 
 Ever your creature. One day shall be happy 
 In your triumph, and your marriage. 
 
THE BONDMAN. 
 
 119 
 
 Least. May it prove so, 
 With her consent and pardon. 
 
 Timag. Ever touching 
 On that harsh string ! She is your own, 
 
 and you 
 
 Without disturbance seize on what's your 
 due. \Exeunt. 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 SCENE I. Syracuse. A Room in 
 
 Archidamus's House. 
 Enter Marullo and Timandra. 
 Mar. She has her health, then? 
 Timand. Yes, sir ; and as often 
 As I speak of you, lends attentive ear 
 To all that I deliver ; nor seems tired, 
 Though I dwell long on the relation of 
 Your sufferings for her, heaping praise on 
 
 praise 
 
 On your unequall'd temperance, and com- 
 mand 
 You hold o'er your affections. 
 
 Mar. To my wish : 
 
 Have you acquainted her with the defeature 
 Of the Carthaginians, and with what ho- 
 nours 
 
 Leosthenes comes crown 'd home with ? 
 Timand. With all care. 
 Alar. And how does she receive it ? . 
 Timand. As I guess, 
 
 With a seeming kind of joy ; but yet ap- 
 pears not 
 
 Transported, or proud of his happy fortune. 
 But when I tell her of the certain ruin 
 You must encounter with at their arrival 
 In Syracusa, and that death, with torments, 
 Mustfallupon you, which you yet repent not, 
 Esteeming it a glorious martyrdom, 
 And a reward of pure unspotted love, 
 Preserved in the white robe of innocence, 
 Though she were in your power ; and, still 
 
 spurr'd on 
 
 By insolent lust, you rather chose to suffer 
 The fruit untasted, for whose glad possession 
 You have call'd on the fury of your lord, 
 Than that she should be grieved, or tainted 
 in 
 
 Her reputation 
 
 Mar. Doth it work compunction ? 
 Pities she my misfortune ? 
 Timand. She express 'd 
 All signs of sorrow which, her vow observed, 
 Could witness a grieved heart. At the first 
 
 hearing, 
 
 She fell upon her face, rent her fair hair, 
 Her hands held up to heaven, and vented 
 sighs, 
 
 In which she silently seemed to complain 
 Of heaven's injustice. 
 
 Mar. Tis enough : wait carefully, 
 And, on all watched occasions, continue 
 Speech and discourse of me : 'tis time must 
 
 work her. 
 
 Timand. I'll not be wanting, but still 
 strive to serve you. {Exit. 
 
 Enter Poliphron. 
 
 Mar. Now, Poliphron, the news? 
 Poliph. The conquering army 
 Is within ken. 
 
 Mar. How brook the slaves the object ? 
 Poliph. Cheerfully yet ; they do refuse no 
 
 labour, 
 And seem to scoff at danger ; 'tis your 
 
 presence 
 
 That must confirm them : with a full consent 
 You are chosen to relate the tyranny 
 Of our proud masters ; and what you sub- 
 scribe to, 
 
 They gladly will allow of, or hold out 
 To the last man. 
 
 Mar. I'll instantly among them. 
 If we prove constant to ourselves, good 
 
 fortune 
 
 Will not, I hope, forsake us. 
 Poliph. 'Tis our best refuge. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE II. Before the Walls of Syracuse. 
 Enter Timoleon, Archidamus, Diphilus, 
 
 Leosthenes, Timagoras, and Soldiers. 
 Timol. Thusfarwearereturn'd victorious ; 
 
 crown'd 
 With wreaths triumphant, (famine, blood, 
 
 and death, 
 Banish'd your peaceful confines,) and bring 
 
 home 
 
 Security and peace. . 'Tis therefore fit 
 That such as boldly stood the shock of war, 
 And with the dear expense of sweat and 
 
 blood 
 
 Have purchased honour, should with plea- 
 sure reap 
 The harvest of their toil : and we stand 
 
 bound, 
 
 Out of the first file of the best deservers, 
 (Though all must be considered to their 
 
 merits, ) 
 
 To think of you, Leosthenes, that stand, 
 And worthily, most dear in our esteem, 
 For your heroic valour. 
 
 Arch id. When I look on 
 The labour of so many men and ages, 
 This well-built city, not long since design'd 
 To spoil and rapine, by the favour of 
 Th'j gods, and you, their ministers, pre- 
 served, 
 
THE BONDMAN. 
 
 I cannot, in my height of joy, but offer 
 These tears for a glad sacrifice. 
 
 Diph. Sleep the citizens ? 
 Or are they overwhelm'd with the excess 
 Of comfort that flows to them? 
 
 Leost. We receive 
 A silent entertainment. 
 Timag. I long since 
 
 Expected that the virgins and the matrons, 
 The old men striving with their age, the 
 
 priests, 
 Carrying the images of their gods before 
 
 them, 
 Should have met us with procession. Ha ! 
 
 the gates 
 Are shut against us ! 
 
 Archid. And, upon the walls, 
 Arm'd men seem to defy us ! 
 
 Enter above, on the Walls, Marullo, Poli- 
 phron, Cimbrio, Gracculo, and other 
 Slaves. 
 
 Diph. I should know 
 These faces : they are our slaves. 
 
 Timag. The mystery, rascals ! 
 Open the ports, and play not with an anger 
 That will consume you. 
 
 Timol. This is above wonder. 
 
 Archid. Our bondmen stand against us ! 
 
 Grac. Some such things 
 We were in man's remembrance. The 
 
 slaves are turn'd 
 
 Lords of the town, or so nay, be not angry : 
 Perhaps, upon good terms, giving security 
 You will be quiet men, we may allow you 
 Some lodgings in our garrets or outhouses : 
 Your great looks cannot carry it. 
 
 Cimb. The truth is, 
 
 We've been bold with your wives, toy'd with 
 your daughters 
 
 Leost. O my prophetic soul ! 
 
 Grac. Rifled your chests, 
 Been busy with your wardrobes. 
 
 Timag. Can we endure this ? 
 
 Leost. O my Cleora ! 
 
 Grac. A caudle for the gentleman ; 
 He'll die o' the pip else. 
 
 Timag. Scorn'd too ! are you ttirn'd 
 
 stone? 
 Hold parley with our bondmen ! force our 
 
 entrance, 
 Then, villains, expect 
 
 Timol. Hold ! You wear men's shapes, 
 And if, like men, you have reason, shew a 
 
 cause 
 That leads you to this desperate course, 
 
 which must end 
 In your destruction. 
 
 Grac. That, as please the Fates ; 
 
 But we vouchsafe Speak, captain. 
 
 Timag. Hell and furies ! 
 Archid. Bay'd by our own curs ! 
 Cimb. Take heed you be not worried. 
 Poliph. We are sharp set. 
 Cimb. And sudden. 
 Mar. Briefly thus, then, 
 Since I must speak for all Your tyranny 
 Drew us from our obedience. Happy tliose 
 
 times 
 
 When lords were styled fathers of families, 
 And not imperious masters ! when they 
 
 number'd 
 
 Their servants almost equal with their sons. 
 Or one degree beneath them! when their 
 
 labours 
 
 Were cherish'd and rewarded, and a period 
 Set to their sufferings ; when they did not 
 
 press 
 
 Their duties or their wills, beyond the power 
 And strength of their performance ! all 
 
 things order'd 
 
 With such decorum, as wise lawmakers, 
 From each well-govern'd private house de- 
 rived 
 
 The perfect model of a commonwealth. 
 Humanity then lodged in the hearts of men. 
 And thankful masters carefully provided 
 For creatures wanting reason. The noble 
 
 horse, 
 
 That, in his fiery youth, from his wide nostrils 
 Neigh'd courage to his rider, and brake 
 
 through 
 
 Groves of opposed pikes, bearing his lord 
 Safe to triumphant victory ; old or wounded, 
 Was set at liberty, and freed from service. 
 The Athenian mules, that from the quarry 
 
 drew 
 
 Marble, hew'd for the temples of the gods, 
 Thegreat work ended, were dismiss'd, and fed 
 At the public cost ; nay, faithful dogs have 
 
 found 
 Their sepulchres ; but man, to man more 
 
 cruel, 
 Appoints no end] to the sufferings of his 
 
 slave ; 
 
 Since pride stepp'd in and riot, and o'erturn'd 
 This goodly frame of concord, teaching- 
 masters 
 
 To glory in the abuse of such as are 
 Brought under their command ; who, grown 
 
 unuseful, 
 Are less esteem 'd than beasts. This you 
 
 have practised, 
 Practised on us with rigour ; this hath forced 
 
 us 
 
 To shake our heavy yokes off ; and, if redress 
 Of these just grievances be not granted us, 
 
THE BONDMAN. 
 
 ! We'll right ourselves, and by strong hand 
 
 defend 
 What we are now possess'd of. 
 
 Grot. And not leave 
 One house unfired. 
 
 Ci nib. Or throat uncut of those 
 i We have in our power. 
 
 Poliph. Nor will we fall alone ; 
 You shall buy us dearly. 
 Timag. O the gods ! 
 Unheard-of insolence ! 
 
 Timol. What are your demands ? 
 
 Mar. A general pardon first, for all 
 
 offences 
 
 Committed in your absence. Liberty 
 , To all such as desire to make return 
 ! Into their countries ; and, to those that stay, 
 ; A competence of land freely allotted 
 To each man's proper use, no lord acknow- 
 ledged : 
 Lastly, with your consent, to choose them 
 
 wives 
 Out of your families. 
 
 Timag. Let the city sink first. 
 Least. And ruin seize on all, ere we sub- 
 scribe 
 To such conditions. 
 
 Archid. Carthage, though victorious, 
 Could not have torced more from us. 
 
 Least. Scale the walls ; 
 j Capitulate after. 
 
 7 imol. He that wins the top first, 
 Shall wear a mural wreath. {Exeunt. 
 
 Mar. Each to his place. 
 
 [Flourish and alarms. 
 Or death or victory ! Charge them home, 
 and fear not. 
 
 [Exeunt Marullo and Slaves. 
 
 Re-enter Timoleon, Archidamus, and 
 Senators. 
 
 Timol. We wrong ourselves, and we are 
 
 justly punish'd, 
 
 To deal with bondmen, as if we encounter'd 
 An equal enemy. 
 
 Archid. They fight like devils ; 
 And run upon our swords, as if their breasts 
 Were proof beyond their armour. 
 
 Re-enter Leosthenes and Timagoras. 
 
 Timag. Make a firm stand. 
 The slaves, not satisfied they have beat us off, 
 Prepare to sally forth. 
 
 Timol. They are wild beasts, 
 And to be tamed by policy. Each man take 
 A tough whip in his hand, such as you used 
 To punish them with, as masters : in your 
 
 looks 
 Carry severity and awe ; 'twill fright them 
 
 More than your weapons. Savage lions fly 
 
 from 
 
 The sight of fire ; and these, that have forgot 
 That duty you ne'er taught them with your 
 
 swords, 
 
 When, unexpected, they behold those terrors 
 Advanced aloft, that they were made to- 
 
 shake at, 
 
 'Twill force them to remember what they are,. 
 And stoop to due obedience. 
 Archid. Here they come. 
 
 Enter, from the City, Cimbrio, Gracculo, 
 
 and other Slaves. 
 Cimb. Leave not a man alive ; a wound's- 
 
 but a flea-biting, 
 To what we suffer'd, being slaves. 
 
 Grac. O, my heart ! 
 Cimbrio, what do we see? the whip ! our~ 
 
 masters ! 
 Timag. Dare you rebel, slaves ! 
 
 {The Senators shake their whips, the 
 Slaves throw away their weapons, . 
 and run off. 
 
 Cimb. Mercy ! mercy ! where 
 Shall we hide us from their fury ? 
 
 Grac. Fly, they follow. 
 O, we shall be tormented ! 
 Timol. Enter with them, 
 But yet forbear to kill them : still remember 
 They are part of your wealth ; and being.! 
 
 disarm 'd, 
 There is no danger. 
 
 Archid. Let us first deliver 
 Such as they have in fetters, and at leisure i 
 Determine of their punishment. 
 
 Least. Friend, to you 
 I leave the disposition of what's mine : 
 I cannot think I am safe without your sister, 
 She is only worth my thought ; and, till I see 
 What she has suffer'd, I am on the rack, 
 And Furies my tormentors. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE III. Syracuse. A Room in 
 
 Archidamus's House. 
 Enter Marullo and Timandra. 
 Mar. I know I am pursued ; nor would 
 
 I fly 
 
 Although the ports were open, and a convoy , 
 Ready to bring me off: the baseness of 
 These villains, from the pride of all my hopes, 
 Hath thrown me to the bottomless abyss 
 Of horror and despair : had they stood firm, 
 I could have bought Cleora's free consent 
 With the safety of her father's life, and. 
 
 brother's ; 
 
 And forced Leosthenes to quit his claim, 
 And kneel a suitor for me. 
 Titnand. You must not think 
 
THE BONDMAN. 
 
 "What might have been, but what must now 
 
 be practised, 
 And suddenly resolve. 
 
 Mar. All my poor fortunes 
 Are at the stake, and I must run the hazard. 
 Unseen, convey me to Cleora's chamber ; 
 For in her sight, if it were possible, 
 I would be apprehended : do not enquire 
 The reason why, but help me. 
 
 [Knocking within. 
 Timand. Make haste, one knocks. 
 
 [Exit Marullo. 
 Jove turn all to the best ! 
 
 Enter Leosthenes. 
 
 You are welcome, sir. 
 
 Leost. Thou giv'st it in a heavy tone. 
 
 Timand. Alas ! sir, 
 
 We have so long fed on the bread of sorrow, 
 Drinking the bitter water of afflictions, 
 Made loathsome too by our continued fears, 
 Comfort's a stranger to us. 
 
 Leost. Fears ! your sufferings : 
 
 I For which I am so overgone with grief, 
 I dare not ask, without compassionate tears, 
 The villain's name that robbed thee of thy 
 
 honour : 
 
 ! For being train'd up in chastity's cold school, 
 ! And taught by such a mistress as Cleora, 
 j "Twere impious in me to think Timandra 
 
 I Fell with her own consent. 
 Timand. How mean you, fell, sir ? 
 ' I understand you not. 
 
 Leost. I would thou did'st not, 
 ; Or that I could not read upon thy face, 
 i In blushing characters, the story of 
 
 Libidinous rape : confess it, for you stand not 
 I Accountable for a sin, against whose strength 
 i Your o'ermatched innocence could make no 
 
 resistance ; 
 
 I Under which odds, I know, Cleora fell too, 
 ' Heaven's help in vain invoked ; the amazed 
 
 sun 
 
 i Hiding his face behind a mask of clouds, 
 Nor daring to look on it ! In her sufferings 
 All sorrow's comprehended : what Timandra, 
 Or the city, has endured, her loss consider'd, 
 Deserves not to be named. 
 
 Timand. Pray you, do not bring, sir, 
 In the chimeras of your jealous fears, 
 New monsters to affright us. 
 
 Leost. O, Timandra, 
 
 That I had faith enough but to believe thee ! 
 I should receive it with a joy beyond 
 Assurance of Elysian shades hereafter, 
 Or all the blessings, in this life, a mother 
 Could wish her children crown'd with but 
 
 I must not 
 -Credit impossibilities ; yet I strive 
 
 To find out that whose knowledge is a curse, 
 And ignorance a blessing. Come, discover 
 What kind of look he had that forced thy 
 
 lady, 
 
 (Thy ravisher I will enquire at leisure,) 
 That when, hereafter, I behold a stranger, 
 But near to him in aspect, I may conclude, ; 
 Though men and angels should proclaim him 
 
 honest, 
 He is a hell bred villain. 
 
 Timand. You are unworthy 
 To know she is preserved, preserved, un- 
 tainted : 
 
 Sorrow, but ill bestow'd, hath only made 
 A rape upon her comforts in your absence. 
 Come forth, dear madam. [Ltadsin Cleora. 
 Leost. Ha! [Kneels. 
 
 Timand. Nay, she deserves 
 The bending of your heart ; that, to content 
 
 you, 
 
 Has kept a vow, the breach of which a Vestal, 
 Though the infringing it had call'd upon her 
 A living funeral, must of force have shrunk at. 
 No danger could compel her to dispense . 
 
 with 
 Her cruel penance, though hot lust came 
 
 arm'd 
 
 To seize upon her ; when one look or accent 
 Might have redeem *d her. 
 
 Leost. Might ! O. do not shew me 
 A beam of comfort, and straight take it 
 
 from me. 
 The means by which she was freed ? speak, 
 
 O speak quickly ; 
 Each minute of delay's an age of torment ; 
 
 speak, Timandra. 
 
 Timand. Free her from her oath ; 
 Herself can best deliver it. 
 
 Leost. O blest office ! [Unbinds her eyes. 
 Never did galley-slave shake off his chains, 
 Or look'd on his redemption from the oar, 
 With such true feeling of delight, as now 
 
 1 find myself possess'd of. Now I behold 
 True light indeed ; for, since these fairest 
 
 stars, 
 
 Cover 'd with clouds of your determinate will, 
 Denied their influence to my optic sense, 
 The splendour of the sun appear 'd to me 
 But as some little glimpse of his bright beams 
 Convey'd into a dungeon, to remember 
 The dark inhabitants there, how much they 
 
 wanted. 
 Open these long shut lips, and strike mine 
 
 ears 
 
 With music more harmonious than the spheres 
 Yield in their heavenly motions : and if ever ; 
 A true submission for a crime acknowledged, 
 May find a gracious hearing, teach your 
 
 tongue, 
 
THE BONDMAN. 
 
 123 
 
 In the first sweet articulate sounds it utters, 
 To sign my wish'd-for pardon. 
 Cleo. I forgive you. 
 Leost. How greedily I receive this ! Stay, 
 
 best lady, 
 
 And let me by degrees ascend the height 
 Of human happiness ! all at once deliver'd, 
 The torrent of my joys will overwhelm me: 
 So ! now a little more ; and pray excuse me, 
 If, like a wanton epicure, I desire 
 The pleasant taste these cates of comfort 
 
 yield me, 
 Should not too soon be swallow'd. Have 
 
 you not, 
 
 By your unspotted truth I do conjure you 
 To answer truly, suffer 'd in your honour, 
 By force, I mean, for in your will I free you, 
 Since I left Syracusa ? 
 
 Cleo. I restore 
 This kiss, so help me goodness ! which I 
 
 borrow'd, 
 When I last saw you. 
 
 Leost. Miracle of virtue ! 
 One pause more, I beseech you: I am like 
 A man whose vital spirits consumed and 
 
 wasted 
 
 With a long and tedious fever, unto whom 
 Too much of a strong cordial, at once taken, 
 Brings death, and not restores him. Yet I 
 
 cannot 
 
 Fix here ; but must enquire the man to whom 
 I stand indebted for a benefit, 
 Which to requite at full, though in this hand 
 I grasp all sceptres the world's empire bows to, 
 Would leave me a poor bankrupt. Name 
 
 him, lady; 
 
 If of a mean estate, I'll gladly part with 
 My utmost fortunes to him ; but if noble, 
 In thankful duty study how to serve him ; 
 Or if of higher rank, erect him altars, 
 And as a god adore him. 
 Cleo. If that goodness, 
 And noble temperance, the queen of virtues, 
 Bridling rebellious passions, to whose sway, 
 Such as have conquered nations have lived 
 
 slaves, 
 
 Did ever wing great minds to fly to heaven, 
 He, that preserved mine honour, may hope 
 
 boldly 
 
 To fill a seat among the gods, and shake off 
 Our frail corruption. 
 Leost. Forward. 
 Cleo. Or if ever 
 
 The Powers above did mask in human shapes, 
 To teach mortality, not by cold precepts 
 Forgot as soon as told, but by examples, 
 To imitate their pureness, and draw near 
 To their celestial natures, I believe 
 He's more than man. 
 
 Leost. You do describe a wonder. 
 
 Cleo. Which will encrease, when you shall 
 
 understand 
 He was a lover. 
 
 Leost. Not yours, lady? 
 
 Cleo. Yes; 
 
 Loved me, Leosthenes ; nay, more, so doted, 
 (If e'er affections scorning gross desires 
 May without wrong be styled so,) that he 
 
 durst not, 
 
 With an immodest syllable or look, 
 In fear it might take from me, whom he made 
 The object of his better part, discover 
 I was the saint he sued to. 
 
 Leost. A rare temper ! 
 
 Cleo. I cannot speak it to the worth : all 
 
 praise 
 
 I can bestow upon it will appear 
 Envious detraction. Not to rack you further, 
 Yet make the miracle full, though, of all 
 
 men, 
 
 He hated you, Leosthenes, as his rival, 
 So high yet he prized my content, that, 
 
 knowing 
 
 You were a man I favour'd, he disdain'd not, 
 Against himself, to serve you 
 
 Leost. You conceal still 
 The owner of these excellencies. 
 
 Cleo. 'Tis Marullo, 
 My father's bondman. 
 
 Leost. Ha, ha, ha ! 
 
 Cleo. Why do you laugh ? 
 
 Leost. To hear the labouring mountain of 
 
 your praise 
 Deliver'd of a mouse. 
 
 Cleo. The man deserves not 
 This scorn, I can assure you. 
 
 Leost. Do you call 
 What was his duty, merit ? 
 
 Cleo. Yes, and place it 
 As high in my esteem, as all the honours 
 Descended from your ancestors, or the glory, 
 Which you may call your own, got in this 
 
 action, 
 In which, I must confess, you have done 
 
 nobly ; 
 
 And I could add, as I desired, but that 
 I fear 'twould make you proud. 
 
 Leost. Why, lady, can you 
 Be won to give allowance, that your slave 
 Should dare to love you ? 
 
 Cleo. The immortal gods 
 Accept the meanest altars, that are raised 
 By pure devotions ; and sometimes prefer 
 An ounce of frankincense, honey or milk, 
 Before whole hecatombs, or Sabaean gums, 
 Offer'd in ostentation. Are you sick 
 Of your old disease ? I'll fit you. {Aside. 
 
 Leost. You seem moved. 
 
124 
 
 THE BONDMAN. 
 
 Clco. Zealous, I grant, in the defence of 
 
 virtue. 
 
 Why, good Leosthenes, though I endured 
 A penance for your sake, above example ; 
 I have not so far sold myself, I take it, 
 To be at your devotion, but I may 
 Cherish desert in others, where I find it. 
 How would you tyrannize, if you stood 
 
 possess'd of 
 
 That which is only yours in expectation, 
 That now prescribe such hard conditions to 
 
 me? 
 
 Least. One kiss, and I am silenced. 
 Cleo. I vouchsafe it ; 
 Yet, I must tell you 'tis a favour that 
 Marullo, when I was his, not mine own, 
 Durst not presume to ask : no ; when the city 
 Bow'd humbly to licentious rapes and lust, 
 And when I was, of men and gods forsaken, 
 Deliver'd to his power, he did not press me 
 To grace him with one look or syllable, 
 Or urged the dispensation of an oath 
 Made for your satisfaction : the poor 
 
 wretch, 
 
 Having related only his own sufferings, 
 And kiss'd my hand, which I could not 
 
 deny him, 
 
 Defending me from others, never since 
 Solicited my favours. 
 
 Least. Pray you, end : 
 The story does not please me. 
 
 Cleo. Well, take heed 
 Of doubts and fears ; for know, Leosthenes, 
 A greater injury cannot be offer'd 
 To innocent chastity, than unjust suspicion. 
 I love Marullo's fair mind, not his person ; 
 Let that secure you. And I here command 
 
 you, 
 
 If I have any power in you, to stand 
 Between him and all punishment, and 
 
 oppose 
 
 His temperance to his folly ; if you fail 
 
 No more ; I will not threaten. [Exit. 
 
 Least. What a bridge 
 Of glass I walk upon, over a river 
 Of certain ruin, mine own weighty fears 
 Cracking what should support me ! and 
 
 those helps, 
 Which confidence lends to others, are from 
 
 me 
 Ravish'd by doubts, and wilful jealousy. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 SCENE IV. Another Room in tJie same. 
 
 Enter Timagoras, Cleon, Asotus, Corisca, 
 and Olympia. 
 
 Cleon. But are you sure we are safe ? 
 Timag. You need not fear ; 
 
 They are all under guard, their fangs pared 
 
 off: 
 The wounds their insolence gave you, to be 
 
 cured 
 With the balm of your revenge. 
 
 A sot. And shall I be 
 The thing I was born, my lord ? 
 Timag. The same wise thing. 
 'Slight, what a beast they have made thee ! 
 
 Africk never 
 Produced the like. 
 
 Asot. I think so : nor the land 
 Where apes and monkeys grow, like crabs 
 
 and walnuts, 
 
 On the same tree. Not all the catalogue 
 Of conjurers or wise women bound together 
 Could have so soon transform'd me, as my 
 
 rascal 
 
 Did with his whip ; for not in outside only, 
 But in my own belief, I thought myself 
 
 As perfect a baboon 
 
 Timag. An ass thou wert ever. 
 
 Asot. And would have given one leg. 
 
 with all my heart, 
 
 For good security to have been a man 
 After three lives, or one and twenty years, 
 Though I had died on crutches. 
 
 Cleon. Never varlets 
 So triumph'd o'er an old fat man : I was 
 
 famish'd. 
 
 Timag. Indeed you are fallen away. 
 Asot. Three years of feeding 
 On cullises and jelly, though his cooks 
 Lard all he eats with marrow, or his doctors 
 Pour in his mouth restoratives as he sleeps, 
 Will not recover him. 
 
 Timag. But your ladyship looks 
 Sad on the matter, as if you had miss'd 
 Your ten-crown amber possets, good to 
 
 smooth 
 
 The cutis, as you call it, and prepare you 
 Active, and high, for an afternoon's en- 
 counter 
 With a rough gamester, on your couch. 
 
 Fie on't ! 
 You . are grown thrifty, smell like other 
 
 women ; 
 
 The college of physicians have not sat, 
 As they were used, in counsel, how to fill 
 The crannies in your cheeks, or raise a 
 
 rampire 
 
 With mummy, ceruses, or infants' fat, 
 To keep off age and time. 
 
 Coris. Pray you, forbear ; 
 I am an alter 'd woman. 
 Timag. So it seems ; 
 A part of your honour's ruff stands out of 
 
 rank too. 
 Coris. No matter, I have other thoughts. 
 
THE BONDMAN. 
 
 Timag. O strange ! 
 Not ten days since it would have vex'd you 
 
 more 
 Than the loss of your good name : pity, 
 
 this cure 
 For your proud itch came no sooner ! 
 
 Marry, Olympia 
 Seems to bear up still. 
 
 Olymp, I complain not, sir ; 
 I have borne my fortune patiently. 
 
 Timag. Thou wert ever 
 An excellent bearer ; so is all your tribe, 
 If you may choose your carriage. 
 
 Enter Leosthenes and Diphilus with a 
 Guard. 
 
 How now, friend ! 
 Looks our Cleora lovely ? 
 
 Least. In my thoughts, sir. 
 
 Timag. But why this guard ? 
 
 Diph. It is Timoleon's pleasure : 
 The slaves have been examin'd, and confess 
 Their riot took beginning from your house ; 
 And the first mover of them to rebellion, 
 Your slave Marullo. 
 
 {Exeunt Diph. and Guard. 
 
 Least. Ha ! I more than fear. 
 
 7imag. They may search boldly. 
 
 Enter Timandra, speaking to the Guard 
 within. 
 
 Timand. You are unmanner'd grooms, 
 To pry into my lady's private lodgings ; 
 There's no Marullos there. 
 
 Re-enter Diphilus, and Guard wifft 
 Marullo, 
 
 Timag, Now I suspect too. 
 Where found you him ? 
 
 Diph. Close hid in your sister's chamber. 
 
 Timag. Is that the villain's sanctuary? 
 
 Least. This confirms 
 All she deliver 'd, false. 
 
 Timag. But that I scorn 
 To rust my good sword in thy slavish blood, 
 Thou now wert dead. 
 
 Afar. He's more a slave than fortune 
 Or misery can make me, that insults 
 Upon unweapon'd innocence. 
 
 Timag. Prate you, dog ! 
 
 Mar. Curs snap at lions in the toil, whose 
 
 looks 
 Frighted them, being free. 
 
 Timag. As a wild beast, 
 Drive him before you. 
 
 Mar. O divine Cleora ! 
 
 Least. Dar'st thou presume to name her ? 
 
 Mar. Yes. and love her ; 
 And may say, have deserved her. 
 
 Timag. Stop his mouth, 
 Load him with irons too. 
 
 [Exit Guard with Marullo. 
 Clean. I am deadly sick 
 To look on him. 
 
 Asot. If he get loose, I know it, 
 I caper like an ape again : I leel 
 The whip already. 
 
 Timand. This goes to my lady. {Exit. 
 Timag. Come, cheer you, sir ; we'll 
 
 urge his punishment 
 To the full satisfaction of your anger. 
 Leost. He is not worth my thoughts. No 
 
 corner left 
 
 In all the spacious rooms of my vex'd heart, 
 But is fill'd with Cleora : and the rape 
 She has done upon her honour, with my 
 
 wrong, 
 The heavy burthen of my sorrow's song. 
 
 {Exeunt. 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 SCENE I. The same. A Room in 
 
 Archidamus's House. 
 Enter Archidamus and Cleora. 
 Archid. Thou art thine own disposer. 
 
 Were his honours 
 
 And glories centupled, as I must confess, 
 Leosthenes is most worthy, yet I will not, 
 However I may counsel, force affection. 
 Cleo. It needs not, sir ; I prize him to his 
 
 worth, 
 Nay, love him truly ; yet would not live 
 
 slaved 
 To his jealous humours : since, by the hopes 
 
 of heaven, 
 As I am free from violence, in a thought 
 I am not guilty. 
 
 Archid. 'Tis believed, Cleora ; 
 And much the rather, our great gods be 
 
 praised for't ! 
 
 In that I find, beyond my hopes, no sign 
 Of riot in my house, but all things order'd, 
 As if I had been present. 
 
 Cleo. May that move you 
 To pity poor Marullo ! 
 
 Archid. 'Tis my purpose 
 To do him all the good I can, Cleora ; 
 But this offence, being against the state, 
 Must have a public trial. In the mean time, 
 Be careful of yourself, and stand engaged 
 No further to Leosthenes, than you may 
 Come off with honour ; for, being once his 
 
 wife, 
 You are no more your own, nor mine, but 
 
 must 
 Resolve to serve, and suffer his commands, 
 
126 
 
 THE BONDMAN. 
 
 And not dispute them : ere it be too late, 
 Consider it duly. I must to the senate. 
 
 [Exit. 
 Cleo. I am much distracted : in Leos- 
 
 thenes, 
 
 I can find nothing justly to accuse, 
 But his excess of love, which I have 
 
 studied 
 To cure with more than common means ; 
 
 yet still 
 
 It grows upon him. And, if I may call 
 My sufferings merit, I stand bound to think 
 
 on 
 
 Maruiio's dangers though I save his life, 
 His love is unrewarded : I confess, 
 Both have deserved me ; yet, of force, must 
 
 be 
 Unjust to one ; such is my destiny. 
 
 Enter Timandra. 
 
 How now ! whence flow these tears ? 
 
 Timand. I have met, madam, 
 An object of such cruelty, as would force 
 A savage to compassion. 
 
 Cleo. Speak, what is it ? 
 
 Timand. Men pity beasts of rapine, if 
 
 o'ermatch'd, 
 Though baited for their pleasure ; but these 
 
 monsters, 
 
 Upon a man that can make no resistance, 
 Are senseless in their tyranny. Let it be 
 
 granted, 
 
 Marullo is a slave, he's still a man ; 
 A capital offender, yet in justice 
 Not to be tortured, till the judge pronounce 
 His punishment. 
 
 Cieo. Where is he? 
 
 Timand. Dragg'd to prison 
 With more than barbarous violence ; spurn'd 
 
 and spit on 
 
 By the insulting officers, his hands 
 Pinion'd behind his back ; loaden with 
 
 fetters : 
 
 Yet, with a saint-like patience, he still offers 
 His face to their rude buffets. 
 
 Cleo. O my grieved soul ! 
 By whose command ? 
 
 Timand. It seems, my lord your brother's, 
 For he's a looker-on : and it takes from 
 Honour 'd Leosthenes, to suffer it, 
 For his respect to you, whose name in vain 
 The grieved wretch loudly calls on. 
 
 Cleo. By Diana, 
 Tis base in both; and to their teeth I'll 
 
 tell them 
 That I am wrong'd in't. [Going forth. 
 
 Timand. What will you do ? 
 
 Cleo. In person 
 Visit and comfort him. 
 
 Timand. That will bring fuel 
 To the jealous fires which burn too hot 
 
 already 
 In lord Leosthenes. 
 
 Cleo. Let them consume him ! 
 I am mistress of myself. Where cruelty 
 
 reigns, 
 There dwells nor love, nor honour. {Exit. 
 
 Timand. So ! it works. 
 Though hitherto I have run a desperate 
 
 course 
 To serve my brother's purposes, now 'tis fit 
 
 Enter Leosthenes and Timagoras. 
 
 I study mine own ends. They come : assist 
 
 me 
 In these my undertakings, Love's great 
 
 patron, 
 As my intents are honest ! 
 
 Least. 'Tis my fault : 
 Distrust of others springs, Timagoras, 
 From diffidence in ourselves : but I will strive, 
 With the assurance of my worth and merits, 
 To kill this monster, jealousy. 
 
 Timag. 'Tis a guest, 
 In wisdom, never to be entertain'd 
 On trivial probabilities ; but, when 
 He does appear in pregnant proofs, not 
 
 fashion'd 
 
 By idle doubts and fears, to be received : 
 They make their own horns that are too 
 
 secure, 
 
 As well as such as give them growth and being 
 From mere imagination. Though I prize 
 Cleora's honour equal with mine own, 
 And know what large additions of power 
 This match brings to our family, I prefer 
 Our friendship, and your peace of mind so far 
 Above my own respects, or hers, that if 
 She hold not her true value in the test, 
 'Tis far from my ambition, for her cure 
 That you should wound yourself. 
 
 Timand. This argues for me. \Aside. 
 
 Timag. Why she should be so passionate 
 
 for a bondman, 
 
 Falls not in compass of my understanding, 
 But lor some nearer interest : or he raise 
 This mutiny, if he loved her, as, you say, 
 She does confess he did, but to enjoy, 
 By fair or foul play, what he ventured for, 
 To me's a riddle. 
 
 Least. Pray you, no more ; already 
 I have answered that objection, in my strong 
 Assurance of her virtue. 
 
 Timav. "\ is unfit then, 
 That I should press it further. 
 
 Timand. Now I must 
 M.ike in, or all is lost. 
 
 \Rushes forward dill radcdly. 
 
THE BONDMAN. 
 
 127 
 
 Timag. What \vould Timandra? 
 
 Least. How wild she looks ! How is it 
 
 with thy lady ? 
 
 Timag. Collect thyself, and speak. 
 Timand. As you are noble, 
 Have pity, or love piety. Oh ! 
 Leost. Take breath. 
 Timag. Out with it boldly. 
 Timand. O, the best of ladies, 
 I fear, is gone for ever. 
 Leost. Who, Cleora? 
 Timag. Deliver, how ? 'Sdeath, be a man, 
 
 sir ! Speak. 
 
 Timand. Take it then in as many sighs 
 as words, 
 
 My lady 
 
 Timag. What of her? 
 Timand. No sooner heard 
 Marullo was imprison'd, but she fell 
 Into a deadly swoon. 
 
 Timag. But she recover 'd : 
 Say so, or he will sink too ; hold, sir ; fie ! 
 This is unmanly. 
 
 Timand. Brought again to life, 
 But with much labour, she awhile stood 
 
 silent, 
 
 Yet in that interim vented sighs, as if 
 They labour'd, from the prison of her flesh, 
 To give her grieved soul freedom. On the 
 
 sudden, 
 
 Transported on the wings of rage and sorrow, 
 She flew out of the house, and, unattended, 
 Entered the common prison. 
 
 Leost. This confirms 
 What but before I fear'd. 
 
 Timand There you may find her ; 
 
 And, if you love her as a sister 
 
 Timag. Damn her ! 
 
 Timand. Or you respect her safety as a 
 
 lover, 
 Procure Marullo's liberty. 
 
 Timag. Impudence 
 Beyond expression ! 
 
 Leost. Shall I be a bawd 
 To her lust, and my dishonour ? 
 
 . Timand. She'll run mad, else, 
 Or do some violent act upon herself : 
 I My lord, her father, sensible of her sufferings, 
 j Labours to gain his freedom. 
 
 Leost. O, the devil ! 
 Has she bewitch'd him too? 
 Timag. I'll hear no more. 
 ! Come, sir, we'll follow her ; and if no per- 
 suasion 
 
 I Can make her take again her natural form, 
 Which by lust's powerful spell she hascastoff, 
 111 is sword shall disenchant her. 
 Leost. O my heart-stiings ! 
 
 \Exeunt Leosthenes and Timagoras. 
 
 Timand. I knew 'twould take. Pardon 
 
 me, fair Cleora, 
 Though I appear a traitress ; which thou 
 
 wilt do, 
 
 In pity of my woes, when I make known 
 My lawful claim, and only seek mine own. 
 
 {.Exit. 
 
 SCENE II. A Prison. Marullo discovered 
 in chains. 
 
 Enter Cleora and Gaoler. 
 
 Cleo. There's for your privacy. Stay, un- 
 bind his hands. 
 Gaol. I dare not, madam. 
 Cleo. I will buy thy danger : 
 Take more gold ; do not trouble me with,' 
 
 thanks, 
 I do suppose it done. [Exit Gaoler. 
 
 Mar. My better angel 
 Assumes this shape to comfort me, and 
 
 wisely ; 
 
 Since, from the choice of all celestial figures, 
 He could not take a visible form so full 
 Of glorious sweetness. [Kneels. 
 
 Cleo. Rise. I am flesh and blood, 
 And do partake thy tortures. 
 
 Mar. Can it be, 
 
 That charity should persuade you to descend 
 So far from your own height, as to vouchsafe 
 To look upon my sufferings? How I bless 
 My fetters now, and stand engaged to fortune 
 For my captivity no, my freedom, rather ! 
 Forwho dare think that place a prison, which 
 You sanctify with your presence ? or believe. 
 Sorrow has power to use her sting on him, 
 That is in your compassion arm'd, and made 
 Impregnable, though tyranny raise at once 
 All engines to assault him ? 
 
 Cleo. Indeed virtue, 
 With which you have made evident proofs 
 
 that you 
 Are strongly fortified, cannot fall, though 
 
 shaken 
 With the shock of fierce temptations ; but 
 
 still triumphs 
 
 In spite of opposition. For myself, 
 I may endeavour to confirm your goodness, 
 (A sure retreat, which never will deceive you,) 
 And with unfeigned tears express my sorrow 
 For what I cannot help. 
 
 Mar. Do you weep for me I 
 O, save that precious balm for nobler uses : 
 I am unworthy of the smallest drop, 
 Which, in your prodigality of pity, 
 You throw away on me. Ten of these pearls 
 Were a large ransom to redeem a kingdom 
 From a consuming plague, or stop heaven's 
 
 vengeance, 
 
128 
 
 THE BONDMAN. 
 
 Call'd down by crying sins, though, at that 
 
 instant, 
 
 In dreadful flashes falling on the roofs 
 Of bold blasphemers. I am justly punish'd 
 For my intent of violence to such pureness ; 
 And all the torments flesh is sensible of, 
 A soft and gentle penance. 
 
 Clco. Which is ended 
 In this your free confession. 
 
 ' Enter Leosthenes and Timagoras behind. 
 
 Least. What an object 
 i Have I encountered ! 
 
 Timag. I am blasted too : 
 Yet hear a litle further. 
 
 Mar. Could I expire now, 
 i These white and innocent hands closing my 
 
 eyes thus, 
 
 'Twere not to die, but in a heavenly dream 
 To be transported, without the help of 
 
 Charon, 
 
 To the Elysian shades. You make me bold ; 
 And, but to wish such happiness, I fear, 
 May give offence. 
 
 Cleo. No ; for believ't, Marullo, 
 You've won so much upon me, that I know 
 
 not 
 'That happiness in my gift, but you may 
 
 challenge. 
 
 Least. Are you yet satisfied ? 
 Cleo. Nor can you wish 
 But what my vows will second, though it were 
 Your freedom first, and then in me full power 
 To make a second tender of myself, 
 And you receive the present. By this kiss, 
 From me a virgin bounty, I will practise 
 All arts for your deliverance ; and that pur- 
 chased, 
 
 In what concerns your further aims, I 
 speak it, 
 
 Do not despair, but hope 
 
 [Timagoras and Leosthenes come forward. 
 
 Timag. To have the hangman, 
 When he is married to the cross, in scorn 
 To say Gods give you joy ! 
 Least. But look on me, 
 And be not too indulgent to your folly ; 
 And then, but that grief stops my speech, 
 
 imagine 
 What language I should use. 
 
 Cleo. Against thyself : 
 Thy malice cannot reach me. 
 Timag. How? 
 Cleo. No, brother, 
 Though you join in the dialogue to accuse 
 
 me : 
 
 What I have done, I'll justify ; and these 
 favours, 
 
 Which, you presume, will taint me in my 
 
 honour, 
 
 Though jealousy use all her eyes to spy out 
 One stain in my behaviour, or envy 
 As many tongues to wound it, shall appear 
 My best perfections. For, to the world, 
 I can in my defence allege such reasons, 
 As my accusers shall stand dumb to hear 
 
 them ; 
 When in his fetters this man's worth and ! 
 
 virtues, 
 But truly told, shall shame your boasted 
 
 glories, 
 Which fortune claims a share in. 
 
 Timag. The base villain 
 Shall never live to hear it. 
 
 [Draws his sword. 
 Cleo. Murder ! help ! 
 Through me, you shall pass to him. 
 
 i 
 
 Enter Archidamus, Diphilus, and Officers. 
 
 Archid. What's the matter ? 
 On whom is your sword drawn ? are you a 
 
 judge? 
 
 Or else ambitious of the hangman's office, ; 
 Before it bedesign'd you? You are bold, too; 
 Unhand my daughter. 
 
 Least. She's my valour's prize. 
 
 Archid. With her consent, not otherwise. 
 
 You may urge 
 
 Your title in the court ; if it prove good, 
 Possess her freely. Guard him safely off too. 
 
 Timag. You'll hear me, sir? 
 
 Archid. If you have aught to say, 
 Deliver it in public ; all shall find 
 A just judge of Timoleon. 
 
 Diph. You must 
 Of force now use your patience. 
 {Exeunt all but Timagoras and Leosthenes. 
 
 Timag. Vengeance rather ! 
 Whirlwinds of rage possess me : you are 
 
 wrong' d 
 
 Beyond a Stoic sufferance ; yet you stand 
 As you were rooted. 
 
 Least. I feel something here, 
 That boldly tells me, all the love and service 
 I pay Cleora is another's due, 
 And therefore cannot prosper. 
 
 Timag. Melancholy ; 
 Which now you must not yield to. 
 
 Least. Tis apparent : 
 In fact your sister's innocent, however 
 Changed by her violent will. 
 
 Timag. If you believe so, 
 Follow the chase still ; and in open court 
 Plead your own interest : we shall find the 
 
 judge 
 Our friend, I fear not. 
 
THE BONDMAN. 
 
 129 
 
 Least. Something I shall say, 
 
 But what 
 
 Timag. Collect yourself as we walk thither 
 [Exeunt 
 
 SCENE III. T/ie Court of Justice. 
 
 Enter Timoleon, Archidamus, Cleora, an 
 
 Officers. 
 
 Timol. 'Tis wonderous strange ! nor ca 
 
 it fall within 
 
 The reach of my belief, a slave should be 
 The owner of a temperance which this age 
 Can hardly parallel in freeborn lords, 
 Or kings proud of their purple. 
 
 Arch id. 'Tis most true ; 
 And, though at first it did appear a fable, 
 All circumstances meet to give it credit ; 
 Which works so on me, that I am compell'i 
 To be a suitor, not to be denied, 
 He may have equal hearing. 
 
 Cleo. Sir, you graced me 
 With the title of your mistress ; but my fortun 
 Is so far distant from command, that I 
 Lay by the power you gave me, and plead 
 
 humbly 
 
 For the preserver of my fame and honour. 
 And pray you, sir, in charity believe, 
 That, since I had ability of speech, 
 My tongue has been so much inured to 
 
 truth, 
 I know not how to lie. 
 
 Timol. I'll rather doubt 
 The oracles of the gods, than question whal 
 Your innocence delivers ; and, as far 
 As justice and mine honour can give way, 
 He shall have favour. Bring him in unbound 
 [Exeunt Officers. 
 And though Leosthenes may challenge from 
 
 me, 
 
 ? or his late worthy service, credit to 
 All things he can allege in his own cause, 
 "Vlarullo, so, I think, you call his name, 
 shall find I do reserve one ear for him, 
 
 Enter Cleon, Asotus, Diphilus, Olympia, 
 and Corisca. 
 
 "o let in mercy. Sit, and take your places ; 
 "The right of this fair virgin first determined, 
 r our bondmen shall be censured. 
 
 Cleon. With all rigour, 
 /Ve do expect. 
 
 Cor is. Temper'd, I say, with mercy. 
 
 Enter atone door Leosthenes aw^Timagoras; 
 at the other, Officers "with Marullo, and 
 Timandra. 
 Timol. Your hand, Leosthenes : I cannot 
 
 doubt, 
 'ou, that have been victorious in the war, 
 
 Should, in a combat fought with words 
 
 come off 
 But with assured triumph. 
 
 Least. My deserts, sir, 
 If, without arrogance, I may style them such, 
 Arm me from doubt and fear. 
 Timol. 'Tis nobly spoken. 
 Nor be thou daunted (howsoe'er thy fortune 
 Has mark'd thee out a slave) to speak thy 
 
 merits : 
 For virtue, though in rags, may challenge 
 
 more 
 
 Than vice, set off with all the trim of greatness. 
 Mar. I had rather fall under so just a 
 
 judge, 
 
 Than be acquitted by a man corrupt, 
 And partial in his censure. 
 
 Archid. Note his language ; 
 It relishes of better breeding than 
 His present state dares promise. 
 
 Timol. I observe it. 
 
 Place the fair lady in the midst, that both, 
 Looking with covetous eyes upon the prize 
 They are to plead for, may, from the fair 
 
 object, 
 Teach Hermes eloquence. 
 
 Least. Am I fallen so low ? 
 My birth, my honour, and, what's dearest 
 
 to me, 
 
 My love, and, witness of my love, my service, 
 5o undervalued, that I must contend 
 With one, where my excess of glory must 
 Make his o'erthrow a conquest ? Shall my 
 
 fulness 
 
 iupply defects in such a thing, that never 
 <.new anything but want and emptiness, 
 Give him a name, and keep it such, from 
 
 this 
 
 Jnequal competition ? If my pride, 
 Or any bold assurance of my worth, 
 Has pluck'd this mountain of disgrace 
 
 upon me, 
 
 am justly punish 'd, and submit ; but if 
 have been modest, and esteem 'd myself 
 Vlore injured in the tribute of the praise, 
 Vhich no desert of mine, prized by self-love, 
 Lver exacted, may this cause and minute 
 or ever be forgotten ! I dwell long 
 Jpon mine anger, and now turn to you, 
 Jngrateful fair one ; and, since you are such, 
 Tis lawful forme to proclaim myself, 
 Vnd what I have deserved. 
 Cleo. Neglect and scorn 
 rom me, for this proud vaunt. 
 Least. You nourish, lady, 
 our own dishonour in this harsh reply, 
 nd almost prove what some hold of your 
 
 sex, 
 ou are all made up of passion : for, if reason 
 
130 
 
 THE BONDMAN. 
 
 Or judgment could find entertainment with 
 
 you, 
 
 iOr that you would distinguish of the objects 
 1 You look on, in a true glass, not seduced 
 ! By the false light of your too violent will, 
 ! I should not need to plead for that which 
 
 you, 
 "With joy, should offer. Is my high birth a 
 
 blemish ? 
 
 Or does my wealth, which all the vain ex- 
 pense 
 Of women cannot waste, breed loathing in 
 
 you? 
 "The honours I can call mine own, thought 
 
 scandals ? 
 
 J^m I deform 'd, or, for my father's sins, 
 Mulcted by nature? If you interpret these 
 As crimes, 'tis fit I should yield up myself 
 Most miserably guilty. But, perhaps, 
 <{Which yet I would not credit,) you have 
 
 seen 
 
 This gallant pitch the bar, or bear a burthen 
 "Would crack the shoulders of a weaker 
 
 bondman : 
 
 Or any other boisterous exercise, 
 -Assuring a strong back to satisfy 
 "Your loose desires, insatiate as the grave. 
 Cleo. You are foul-mouth'd. 
 Archid. Ill-manner 'd too. 
 Least. I speak 
 
 In the way of supposition, and entreat you, 
 "With all the fervour of a constant lover, 
 "That you would free yourself from these 
 
 aspersions, 
 
 Or any imputation black-tongued slander 
 Could throw on your unspotted virgin white- 
 ness : 
 
 'To which there is no easier way, than by 
 "Vouchsafing him your favour ; him, to whom, 
 :Next to the general, and the gods and 
 
 fautors, 
 The country owes her safety. 
 
 Timag. Are you stupid ? 
 'Slight, leap into his arms, and there ask 
 
 pardon 
 
 Oh ! you expect your slave's reply ; no doubt 
 We shall have a fine oration : I will teach 
 My spaniel to howl in sweeter language, 
 And keep a better method. 
 
 Archid. You forget 
 The dignity of the place. 
 JDiph. Silence! 
 
 Timol. [to Marullo.] Speak boldly. 
 Mar. Tis your authority gives me a 
 
 tongue, 
 
 I should be dumb else ; and I am secure, 
 -I cannot clothe my thoughts, and just 
 
 defence, 
 'in such an abject phrase, but 'twill appear 
 
 Equal, if not above my low condition. 
 
 I need no bombast language stolen from 
 
 such 
 
 As make nobility from prodigious terms 
 The hearers understand not ; I bring with me 
 Mo wealth to boast of, neither can I number 
 Uncertain fortune's favours with my merits ; 
 [ dare not force affection, or presume 
 To censure her discretion, that looks on me 
 As a weak man, and not her fancy's idol. 
 How I have loved, and how much I have 
 
 suffer'd, 
 And with what pleasure undergone the 
 
 burthen 
 
 Of my ambitious hopes, (in aiming at 
 The glad possession of a happiness, 
 The abstract of all goodness in mankind 
 Can at no part deserve,) with my confession 
 Of mine own wants, is all that can plead for 
 
 me. 
 
 But if that pure desires, not blended with 
 Foul thoughts, that, like a river, keeps his 
 
 course, 
 
 Retaining still the clearness of the spring 
 From whence it took beginning, may be 
 
 thought 
 
 Worthy acceptance ; then I dare rise up, 
 And tell this gay man to his teeth, I never 
 Durst doubt her constancy, that, like a rock, 
 Beats off temptations, as that mocks the 
 
 fury 
 Of the proud waves ; nor, from my jealous 
 
 fears, 
 
 Question that goodness to which, as an altar 
 Of all perfection, he that truly loved 
 Should rather bring a sacrifice of service, 
 Than raze it with the engines of suspicion : 
 Of which, when he can wash an ^Ethiop 
 
 white, 
 
 Leosthenes may hope to free himself ; 
 But, till then, never. 
 
 Timag. Bold, presumptuous villain ! 
 Mar. I will go further, and make good 
 
 upon him, 
 I' the pride of all his honours, birth, and 
 
 fortunes, 
 
 He's more unworthy than myself. 
 Least. Thou liest. 
 Timag. Confute him with a whip, and, 
 
 the doubt decided, 
 Punish him with a halter. 
 
 Mar. O the gods ! 
 My ribs, though made of brass, cannot 
 
 contain 
 My heart, swollen big with rage. The lie ! 
 
 a whip ! 
 
 Let fury then disperse these clouds, in v/hich 
 
 I long have march 'd disguised ; [Throws off 
 
 his disguise."\ that, when they know 
 
THE BONDMAN. 
 
 Whom they have injured, they may faint with 
 
 horror 
 Of my revenge, which, wretched men ! 
 
 expect, 
 
 As sure as fate, to suffer. 
 Least. Ha ! Pisander ! 
 Timag. 'Tis the bold Theban ! 
 A sot. There's no hope for me then : 
 I thought I should have put in for a share, 
 And borne Cleora from them both ; but now, 
 This stranger looks so terrible, that I dare 
 
 not 
 
 So much as look on her. 
 Pisan. Now as myself, 
 Thy equal at thy best, Leosthenes. 
 For you, Timagoras, praise heaven you were 
 
 born 
 
 Cleora's brother, 'tis your safest armour. 
 But I lose time, The base lie cast upon me, 
 I thus return : Thou art a perjured man, 
 False, and perfidious, and hast made a tender 
 Of love and service to this lady, when 
 Thy soul, if thou hast any, can bear witness, 
 That thou wert not thine own : for proof of 
 
 this, 
 
 Look better on this virgin, and consider, 
 This Persian shape laid by, and she appear- 
 ing 
 In a Greekish dress, such as when first you 
 
 saw her, 
 
 If she resemble not Pisander's sister, 
 Onecall'dStatilia? 
 
 Least. 'Tis the same ! My guilt 
 So chokes my spirits, I cannot deny 
 My falsehood, nor excuse it. 
 
 Pisan. This is she, 
 To whom thou wert contracted : this the 
 
 lady, 
 That, when thou wert my prisoner, fairly 
 
 taken 
 
 In the Spartan war, that, begg'd thy liberty, 
 And with it gave herself to thee, ungrate- 
 ful ! 
 Statil. No more, sir, I entreat you : I 
 
 perceive 
 
 True sorrow in his looks, and a consent 
 To make me reparation in mine honour ; 
 And then I am most happy. 
 
 Pisan. The wrong done her, 
 Drew me from Thebes, with a full intent to 
 
 kill thee : 
 
 But this fair object met me in my fury, 
 And quite disarm 'd me. Being denied to 
 
 have her, 
 
 By you, my lord Archidamus, and not able 
 To live far from her ; love, the mistress of 
 All quaint devices, prompted me to treat 
 With a friend of mine, who, as a pirate, 
 
 sold me 
 
 For a slave to you, my lord, and crave mv 
 
 sister, 
 
 As a present, to Cleora. 
 Timol. Strange meanders ! 
 Pisan. There how I bare myself, needs no 
 
 relation : 
 
 But. if so far descending from the height 
 Of my then flourishing fortunes, to the 
 
 lowest 
 
 Condition of a man, to have means only 
 To feed my eye with the sight of what I 
 
 honour 'd ; 
 
 The dangers too I underwent, the suffer- 
 ings ; 
 
 The clearness of my interest, may deserve 
 A noble recompense in your lawful favour ; 
 Now 'tis apparent that Leosthenes 
 Can claim no interest in you, you may 
 
 please 
 To think upon my service. 
 
 Cleo. Sir, my want 
 Of power to satisfy so great a debt, 
 Makes me accuse my fortune ; but if that, 
 Out of the bounty of your mind, you think 
 A free surrender of myself full payment, 
 I gladly tender it. 
 
 Archid. With my consent too, 
 All injuries forgotten. 
 
 Timag. I will study, 
 
 In my future service, to deserve your favour, 
 And good opinion. 
 
 Least. Thus I gladly fee 
 This advocate to plead for me. 
 
 {Kissing Statilia. 
 Pisan. You will find me 
 An easy judge. When I have yielded 
 
 reasons 
 Of your bondmen's falling off from their 
 
 obedience, 
 
 Then after, as you please, determine of me. 
 I found their natures apt to mutiny 
 From your too cruel usage, and made trial 
 How far they might be wrought on ; to in- 
 struct you 
 
 To look with more prevention and care 
 To what they may hereafter undertake 
 Upon the like occasions. The hurt's little 
 They have committed ; nor was ever cure, 
 But with some pain, effected. I confess, 
 In hope to force a grant of fair Cleora, 
 I urged them to defend the town against 
 
 you ; 
 
 Nor had the terror of your whips, but that 
 I was preparing for defence elsewhere, 
 So soon got entrance : In this I am guilty ; 
 Now, as you please, your censure. 
 
 Timol. Bring them in ; 
 And, though you've given me power, I do 
 entreat 
 
132 
 
 THE BONDMAN. 
 
 Such as have undergone their insolence, 
 It may not be offensive, though I study 
 Pity, more than revenge. 
 
 Coris. 'Twill best become you. 
 
 Clean. I must consent. 
 
 A sot. For me, I'll find a time 
 To be revenged hereafter. 
 
 Enter Gracculo, Cimbrio, Poliphron, Zan- 
 thia, and the other Slaves, with halters 
 about their necks. 
 
 Grac. Give me leave ; 
 I'll speak for all. 
 
 Timol. What canst thou say, to hinder 
 The course of justice ? 
 
 Grac. Nothing. You may see 
 "We are prepared for hanging, and confess 
 We have deserved it : our most humble 
 
 suit is, 
 We may not twice be executed. 
 
 Timol. Twice ! 
 How meanest thou? 
 
 Grac . At the gallows first, and after in a 
 
 ballad 
 Sung to some villainous tune. There are 
 
 ten-groat rhymers 
 
 About the town, grown fat on these occa- 
 sions. 
 
 Let but a chapel fall, or a street be fired, 
 A foolish lover hang himself for pure love, 
 
 Or any such like accident, and, before 
 They are cold in their graves, some dainn'd. 
 
 ditty's made, 
 Which makes their ghosts walk. Let the 
 
 state take order 
 
 For the redress of this abuse, recording 
 'Twas done by my advice, and, for my part, 
 I'll cut as clean a caper from the ladd'er, 
 As ever merry Greek did. 
 
 Timol. Yet I think 
 
 You would shew more activity to delight 
 Your master for a pardon. 
 
 Grac. O ! I would dance, 
 As I were all air and fire. {Capers. 
 
 Timol. And ever be 
 Obedient and humble ? 
 
 Grac. As his spaniel, 
 
 Though he kick'd me for exercise ; and the 
 like 
 
 promise for all the rest. 
 
 Timol. Rise then, you have it. 
 
 All the Slaves. Timoleon ! Timoleon ! 
 
 Timol. Cease these clamours. 
 And now, the war being ended to our wishes. 
 And such as went the pilgrimage of love, 
 Happy in full fruition of their hopes, 
 Tis lawful, thanks paid to the Powers 
 
 divine, 
 
 To drown our cares in honest mirth and 
 wine. [ExeunL 
 
The Renegade. 
 
 DRAMATIS PERSONS. ACTORS' NAMES. 
 
 Asambeg, viceroy of Tunis John Blanye. 
 
 Mustapha, basha c/" Aleppo John Sumner. 
 
 Vitelli, a Venetian gentleman, disguised as a 
 
 merchant Mich. Bowyer. 
 
 Francisco, a Jesuit Wm. Reignalds. 
 
 Antonio Grimaldi, the RENEGADO Wm. Allen. 
 
 Carazie, an eunuch Wm. Robins. 
 
 Gazet, servant to Vitelli Ed. Shakerley. 
 
 Aga. 
 
 Capiaga. 
 
 Janizaries. 
 
 Master. 
 
 Boatswain. 
 
 Sailors. 
 
 A Gaoler. Turks. 
 
 Donusa, niece to Amurath Ed. Rogers. 
 
 Paulina, sister to Vitelli Theo. Bourne. 
 
 Manto, servant to Donusa, 
 
 SCENE, Tunis. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 SCENE L A Street near the Bazaar. 
 
 Enter Vitelli and Gazet. 
 Vitel. You have hired a shop, then ? 
 Gaz. Yes, sir ; and our wares, 
 Though brittle as a maidenhead at sixteen, 
 Are safe unladen ; not a crystal crack'd, 
 Or China dish needs soldering ; our choice 
 
 pictures, 
 As they came from the workman, without 
 
 blemish : 
 
 And I have studied speeches for each piece, 
 And, in a thrifty tone, to sell them off, 
 Will swear by Mahomet and Termagant, 
 That this is mistress to the great duke of 
 
 Florence, 
 
 That, niece to old king Pepin, and a third, 
 An Austrian princess by her Roman nose, 
 Howe'er my conscience tells me they are 
 
 figures 
 
 Of bawds and common courtezans in Venice. 
 Vitel. You make no scruple of an oath, 
 
 then? 
 
 Gaz. Fie, sir ! 
 
 'Tis out of my indentures ; I am bound there, 
 To swear for my master's profit, as securely 
 As your intelligencer must for his prince, 
 That sends him forth an honourable spy, 
 To serve his purposes. And, if it be lawful 
 In a Christian shopkeeper to cheat his father, 
 
 I cannot find but to abuse a Turk 
 
 In the sale of our commodities, must be 
 
 thought 
 A meritorious work. 
 
 Vitel. I wonder, sirrah, 
 What's your religion ? 
 
 Gaz. Troth, to answer truly, 
 I would not be of one that should command 
 
 me 
 
 To feed upon poor John, when I see pheasants 
 And partridges on the table : nor do I like 
 The other, that allows us to eat flesh 
 In Lent, though it be rotten, rather than be 
 Thought superstitious ; as your zealous 
 
 cobler, 
 
 And learned botcher, preach at Amsterdam, 
 Over a hotchpotch. I would not be confined 
 In my belief: when all your sects and sectaries 
 Are grown of one opinion, if I like it, 
 I will profess myself, in the mean time, 
 Live I in England, Spain, France, Rome, 
 
 Geneva, 
 I'm of that country's faith. 
 
 Vitel. And what in Tunis ? 
 Will you turn Turk here ? 
 
 Gaz. No : so I should lose 
 A collop of that part my Doll enjoin'd me 
 To bring home as she left it : 'tis her venture, 
 Nor dare I barter that commodity, 
 Without her special warrant. 
 Vitel. You are a knave, sir : 
 
134 
 
 THE RENEGADO. 
 
 Leaving your roguery, think upon my busi- 
 ness, 
 
 It is no time to fool now. 
 Remember where you are too : though this 
 
 mart time 
 
 We are allow'd free trading, and with safety, 
 Temper your tongue, and meddle not with 
 
 the Turks, 
 
 Their manners, nor religion. 
 Gas. Take you heed, sir, 
 What colours you wear. Not two hours 
 
 since, there landed 
 An English pirate's whore, with a green 
 
 apron, 
 And, as she walked the streets, one of their 
 
 muftis, 
 
 We call them priests at Venice, with a razor 
 Cuts it off, petticoat, smock and all, and 
 
 leaves her 
 
 As naked as my nail ; the young fry wondering 
 What strange beast it should be. I scaped 
 
 a scouring 
 
 My mistress's busk point, of that forbidden 
 
 colour, 
 Then tied my codpiece ; had I been dis- 
 
 cover'd, 
 I had been capon'd. 
 
 Vitel. And had been well served. 
 Haste to the shop, and set my wares in order, 
 I will not long be absent. 
 
 Gas. Though I strive, sir, 
 To put off melancholy, to which you are ever 
 Too much inclined, it shall not hinder me, 
 With my best care to serve you. [Exit. 
 
 Enter Francisco. 
 
 Vitel. I believe thee. 
 O v.-elcome, sir ! stay of my steps in this life, 
 And guide to all my blessed hopes hereafter. 
 What comforts, sir ? Have your endeavours 
 
 prosper'd ? 
 Have we tired Fortune's malice with our 
 
 sufferings ? 
 
 Is she at length, after so many frowns, 
 Pleased to vouchsafe one chee'rful look upon 
 
 us? 
 Fran. You give too much to fortune and 
 
 your passions, 
 
 O'er which a wise man, if religious, triumphs. 
 That name fools worship ; and those tyrants, 
 
 which 
 
 We arm against our better part, our reason, 
 May add, but never take from our afflictions. 
 Vitel. Sir, as I am a sinful man, I cannot 
 But like one suffer. 
 
 Fran. I exact not from you 
 A fortitude insensible of calamity, 
 To which the saints themselves have bow'd 
 
 and shown 
 
 They are made of flesh and blood ; all that 
 
 I challenge, 
 Is manly patience. Will you, that were 
 
 train'd up 
 
 In a religious school, where divine maxims 
 Scorning comparison with moral precepts, 
 Were daily taught you, bear your con- 
 stancy's trial, 
 
 Not like Vitelli, but a village nurse, 
 With curses in your mouth, tears in your 
 
 eyes? 
 
 How poorly it shows in you. 
 Vitel. I am school'd, sir, 
 And will hereafter, to my utmost strength, 
 Study to be myself. 
 
 Fran. So shall you find me 
 Most ready to assist you ; neither have I 
 Slept in your great occasions : since I left you, 
 I have been at the viceroy's court, and press'd, 
 As far as they allow, a Christian entrance ; 
 And something I have learn'd, that may 
 
 concern 
 
 The purpose of this journey. 
 Vitel. Dear sir, what is 'it? 
 Fran. By the command of Asambeg, the 
 
 viceroy, 
 The city swells with barbarous pomp and 
 
 pride, 
 
 For the entertainment of stout Mustapha, 
 The basha of Aleppo, who in person 
 Comes to receive the niece of Amurath, 
 The fair Donusa, for his bride. 
 
 Vitel. I find not 
 How this may profit us. 
 
 Fran. Pray you, give me leave. 
 Among the rest that wait upon the viceroy, 
 Such as have, under him, command in Tunis, 
 Who, as you've often heard, are all false 
 
 pirates, 
 
 I saw the shame of Venice, and the scorn 
 Of all good men, the perjured RENEQAB t 
 Antonio Grimaldi. 
 
 Vitel. Ha ! his name 
 Is poison to me. 
 Fran. Yet again ? 
 Vitel. I have done, sir. 
 Fran. This debauch'd villain, whom we 
 
 ever thought 
 
 (After his impious scorn done, in St. Mark's, 
 To me, as I stood at the holy altar) 
 The thief that ravish'd your fair sister from, 
 
 you, 
 
 The virtuous Paulina, not long since, 
 As I am truly given to understand, 
 Sold to the viceroy a fair Christian virgin 
 On whom, maugre his fierce and cruel nature, 
 Asambeg dotes extremely. 
 
 Vitel. 'Tis my sister : 
 It must be she, my better angel tells me 
 
THE RENEGADO. 
 
 135 
 
 'Tis poor Paulina. Farewell all disguises ! 
 I'll show, in my revenge, that I am noble. 
 Fran. You are not mad? 
 ViteL No, sir ; my virtuous anger 
 Makes every vein an artery ; I feel in me 
 The strength of twenty men ; and, being 
 
 arm'd 
 With my good cause, to wreak wrong'd 
 
 innocence, 
 
 I dare alone run to the viceroy's court, 
 And with this poniard, before his face, 
 Dig out Grimaldi's heart. 
 Fran. Is this religious? 
 ViteL Would you have me tame now? 
 
 Can I know my sister 
 Mew'd up in his seraglio, and in danger 
 Not alone to lose her honour, but her soul ; 
 The hell-bred villain by too, that has sold 
 
 both 
 To black destruction, and not haste to send 
 
 him 
 
 To the devil, his tutor? To be patient now, 
 Were, in another name, to play the pander 
 To the viceroy's loose embraces, and cry aim ! 
 While he, by force or flattery, compels her 
 To yield her fair name up to his foul lust, 
 And, after, turn apostata to the faith 
 That she was bred in. 
 
 Fran. Do but give me hearing, 
 And you shall soon grant how ridiculous 
 This childish fury is. A wise man never 
 Attempts impossibilities ; 'tis as easy 
 For any single arm to quell an army, 
 As to effect your wishes. We come hither 
 To learn Paulina's fate, and to redeem her : 
 Leave your revenge to heaven. I oft have 
 
 told you 
 
 Of a relic that I gave her, which has power, 
 If we may credit holy men's traditions, 
 To keep the owner free from violence : 
 This on her breast she wears, and does pre- 
 serve 
 
 The virtue of it, by her daily prayers. 
 So, if she fall not by her own consent, 
 Which it were sin to think, I fear no force. 
 Be, therefore, patient ; keep this borrow'd 
 
 shape, 
 
 Till time and opportunity present us 
 With some fit means to see her ; which per- 
 
 form'd, 
 
 I'll join with you in any desperate course 
 For her delivery. 
 
 ViteL You have charm'd me, sir, 
 And I obey in all things : pray you, pardon 
 The weakness of my passion. 
 
 Fran. And excuse it. 
 
 Be cheerful, man; for know that good intents 
 Are, in the end, crown'd with as fair events. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE II. A Room in Donusa's Palace* 
 Enter Donusa, Manto, and Carazie. 
 
 Don. Have you seen the Christian captive, 
 The great basha is so enamour'd of? 
 
 Mant. Yes, and it please your excellency, 
 I took a full view of her, when she was 
 Presented to him. 
 
 Don. And is she such a wonder, 
 As 'tis reported? 
 
 Mant. She was drown'd in tears then, 
 Which took much from her beauty ; yet, ire 
 
 spite 
 
 Of sorrow, she appear 'd the mistress of 
 Most rare perfections ; and, though low or 
 
 stature, 
 
 Her well-proportion'd limbs invite affection ~ 
 And, when she speaks, each syllable is music 
 That does enchant the hearers : but your 
 
 highness, 
 
 That are not to be parallel'd, I yet never- 
 Beheld her equal. 
 
 Don. Come, you flatter me ; 
 But I forgive it. We, that are born great. 
 Seldom distaste our servants, though they 
 
 give us 
 
 More than we can pretend to. I have heard 
 That Christian ladies live with much more 
 
 freedom 
 Than such as are born here. Our jealous 
 
 Turks, 
 
 Never permit their fair wives to be seen, 
 But at the public bagnios, or the mosques, 
 And, even then, veil'd and guarded. Thou,, 
 
 Carazie, 
 Wert born in England ; what's the custom: 
 
 there, 
 Among your women? Come, be free and! 
 
 merry: 
 
 I am no severe mistress ; nor hast thou met with 
 A heavy bondage. 
 
 Car. Heavy ! I was made lighter 
 By two stone weight, at least, to be fit to- 
 
 serve you. 
 But to your question, madam ; women ii> 
 
 England, 
 For the most part, live like queens. Your 
 
 country ladies 
 
 Have liberty to hawk, to hunt, to feast, 
 To give free entertainment to all comers, 
 To talk, to kiss ; there's no such thing known 
 
 there 
 
 As an Italian girdle. Your city dame, 
 Without leave, wears the breeches, has her 
 
 husband 
 At as much command as her 'prentice ; and, 
 
 if need be, 
 
 Can make him cuckold by her father's copy. 
 Don. But your court lady ? 
 
 
THE RENEGADO. 
 
 Car. She, I assure you, madam, 
 Knows nothing but her will ; must be allow'd 
 Her footmen, her caroch, her ushers, pages, 
 Her doctor, chaplains ; and, as I have heard, 
 They're grown of late so learn'd, that they 
 
 maintain 
 
 A strange position, which their lords, with all 
 
 Their wit, cannot confute. 
 
 Don. What's that, I prithee? 
 
 Car. Marry, that it is not only fit, but 
 
 lawful, 
 Your madam there, her much rest and high 
 
 feeding 
 
 Duly consider 'd, should, to ease her husband, 
 Be allow'd a private friend : they have drawn 
 
 a bill 
 To this good purpose, and, the next assem 
 
 bly, 
 Doubt not to pass it. 
 
 Don. We enjoy no more, 
 That are o' the Othoman race, though our 
 
 religion 
 
 Allows all pleasure. I am dull : some music. 
 Take my chapines off. So, a lusty strain. 
 
 [A ga Ilia rd. Kn ock ing w ith in . 
 Who knocks there ? 
 
 [Manto goes to the door, and returns. 
 Mant. 'Tis the basha of Aleppo, 
 Who humbly makes request he may present 
 His service to you. 
 
 Don. Reach a chair. We must 
 Receive him like ourself, and not depart with 
 One piece of ceremony, state, and greatness, 
 That may beget respect and reverence 
 In one that's born our vassal. Now admit 
 him. 
 
 Enter Mustapha ; he puts off his yellow 
 pantoflcs. 
 
 Musta. The place is sacred ; and I am to 
 enter 
 
 The room where she abides, with such de- 
 votion 
 
 As pilgrims pay at Mecca, when they visit 
 
 The tomb of our great prophet. \Kntsls. 
 Don. Rise ; the sign 
 
 [Carazie takes up the pantojles. 
 
 That we vouchsafe your presence. 
 Musta. May those Powers 
 
 That raised the Othoman empire, and still 
 guard it, 
 
 Reward your highness for this gracious favour 
 
 You throw upon your servant ! It hath 
 pleased 
 
 The most invincible, mightiest Amurath, 
 
 (To speak his other titles would take from 
 him 
 
 That in himself does comprehend all great- 
 ness,) 
 
 To make me the unworthy instrument 
 Of his command. Receive, divinest lady, 
 
 [Delivers a letter. 
 
 This letter, sign'd by his victorious hand, 
 And made authentic by the imperial seal. 
 There, when you find me mention'd, far be 
 
 it from you 
 
 To think it my ambition to presume 
 At such a happiness, which his powerful will, 
 From his great mind's magnificence, not my 
 
 merit, 
 
 Hath shower'd upon me. But, if your consent 
 Join with his good opinion and allowance, 
 To perfect what his favours have begun, 
 I shall, in my obsequiousness and duty, 
 Endeavour to prevent all just complaints, 
 Which want of will to serve you may call on me. 
 
 Don. His sacred majesty writes here, that 
 
 your valour 
 
 Against the Persian hath so won upon him, 
 That there's no grace or honour in his gift, 
 Of which he can imagine you unworthy ; 
 And, what's the greatest you can hope, or 
 
 aim at, 
 
 It is his pleasure you should be received 
 Into his royal family provided, 
 For so far I am unconfined, that I 
 Affect and like your person. I expect not 
 The ceremony which he uses in 
 Bestowing of his daughters and his nieces : 
 As that he should present you for my slave, 
 To love you, if you pleased me ; or deliver 
 A poniard, on my least dislike, to kill you. 
 Such tyranny and pride agree not with 
 My softer disposition. Let it suffice, 
 For my first answer, that thus far I grace 
 you : [Gives him her hand to kiss. 
 
 Hereafter, some time spent to make enquiry 
 Of the good parts and faculties of your mind, 
 You shall hear further from me. 
 
 Musta. Though all torments 
 Really suffer'd, or in hell imagined 
 By curious fiction, in one hour's delay 
 Are wholly comprehended ; I confess 
 That I stand bound in duty, not to check at 
 Whatever you command, or please to impose, 
 For trial of my patience. 
 
 Don. Let us find 
 Some other subject ; too much of one theme 
 
 cloys me : 
 Is 't a full mart ? 
 
 Musta. A confluence of all nations 
 Are met together : there's variety, too, 
 Of all that merchants traffic for. 
 
 Don. I know not 
 [ feel a virgin's longing to descend 
 So far from my own greatness, as to be. 
 Though not a buyer, yet a looker on 
 Their strange commodities. 
 
THE RENEGADO. 
 
 137 
 
 Musta. If without a train 
 You dare be seen abroad, I'll dismiss mine, 
 And wait upon you as a common man, 
 And satisfy your wishes. 
 
 Don. I embrace it. 
 
 Provide my veil ; and, at the postern gate, 
 Convey us out unseen. I trouble you. 
 
 Musta. It is my happiness you deign to 
 command me. {Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE III. The Bazar. 
 
 Gazet in his Shop ; Francisco and Vitelli 
 walking before it. 
 
 Gaz. What do you lack? Your choice 
 China dishes, your pure Venetian crystal of 
 all sorts, of all neat and new fashions, from 
 the mirror of the madam, to the private 
 utensil of her chambermaid ; and curious 
 pictures of the rarest beauties of Europe : 
 What do you lack, gentlemen ? 
 Fran. Take heed, I say ; howe'er it may 
 
 appear 
 
 Impertinent, I must express my love, 
 My advice, and counsel. You are young, 
 
 Vitelli, 
 And may be tempted ; and these Turkish 
 
 dames, 
 {Like English mastiffs, that increase their 
 
 fierceness 
 By being chain'd up,) from the restraint of 
 
 freedom, 
 
 If lust once fire their blood from a fair object, 
 Will run a course the fiends themselves would 
 
 shake at, 
 
 To enjoy their wanton ends. 
 . Vitel. Sir, you mistake me : 
 I am too full of woe, to entertain 
 One thought of pleasure, though all Europe's 
 
 queens 
 Kneel'd at my feet, and courted me ; much 
 
 less 
 
 To mix with such, whose difference of faith 
 Must, of necessity, (or I must grant 
 Myself neglectful of all you have taught me,) 
 Strangle such base desires. 
 
 Fran. Be constant in 
 That resolution ; I'll abroad again, 
 And learn, as far as it is possible, 
 What may concern Paulina. Some two hours 
 Shall bring me back. {Exit. 
 
 Vitel. All blessings wait upon you ! 
 Gaz. Cold doings, sir ? a mart do you call 
 
 this ? 'slight ! 
 
 A pudding-wife, or a witch with a thrum cap, 
 That sells ale underground to such as come 
 To know their fortunes in a dead vacation, 
 Have, ten to one, more stirring. 
 Vitel. We must be patient. 
 
 Gaz. Your seller by retail ought to be 
 
 angry, 
 But when he's fingering money. 
 
 Enter Grimaldi, Master, Boatswain, Sailors, 
 and Turks. 
 
 Vitel. Here are company 
 
 Defend me, my good angel, {seeing Gri- 
 maldi.] I behold 
 A basilisk ! 
 
 Gaz. What do you lack? what do you lack? 
 pure China dishes, clear crystal glasses, a 
 dumb mistress to make love to? What do 
 you lack, gentlemen ? 
 
 Grim. Thy mother for a bawd ; or, if thou 
 
 hast 
 
 A handsome one, thy sister for a whore ; 
 Without these, do not tell me of your trash, 
 Or I shall spoil your market. 
 Vitel. Old Grimaldi ! 
 Grim. 'Zounds, wherefore do we put to 
 sea, or stand 
 
 The raging winds, aloft, or p upon 
 
 The foamy waves, when they rage most ; 
 
 deride 
 
 Thethunderof the enemy 'sshot, board boldly 
 A merchant's ship for prize, though we behold 
 The desperate gunner ready to give fire, 
 And blow the deck up ? wherefore shake we off 
 Those scrupulous rags of charity and con- 
 science, 
 
 Invented only to keep churchmen warm, 
 Or feed the hungry mouths of famish 'd 
 
 beggars ; 
 
 But, when we touch the shore, to wallow in 
 All sensual pleasures ? 
 
 Mast. Ay, but, noble captain, 
 To spare a little for an after-clap, 
 Were not improvidence. 
 
 Grim. Hang consideration ! 
 When this is spent, is not our ship the same, 
 Our courage too the same, to fetch in more? 
 The earth, where it is fertilest, returns not 
 More than three harvests, while the glorious 
 
 sun 
 Posts through the zodiac, and makes up the 
 
 year: 
 
 But the sea, which is our mother, (that em- 
 braces 
 Both the rich Indies in her outstretch'd 
 
 arms, ) 
 
 Yields every day a crop, if we dare reap it. 
 No, no, my mates, let tradesmen think of 
 
 thrift, 
 
 And usurers hoard up ; let our expense 
 Be, as our comings in are, without bounds. 
 We are the Neptunes of the ocean, 
 And such as traffic shall pay sacrifice 
 Of their best lading ; I will have this canvass 
 
138 
 
 THE RENEGADO. 
 
 Your boy wears, lined with tissue, and the 
 
 cates 
 You taste, serv'd up in gold : Though we 
 
 carouse 
 
 The tears of orphans in our Greekish wines, 
 The sighs of undone widows paying for 
 The music bought to cheer us, ravish 'd virgins 
 To slavery sold, for coin to feed our riots, 
 We will have no compunction. 
 
 Gaz. Do you hear, sir ? 
 We have paid for our ground. 
 
 Grim. Hum ! 
 
 Gaz. And hum, too ! 
 
 For all your big words, get you further off, 
 And hinder not the prospect of our shop, 
 Or 
 
 Grim. What will you do? 
 
 Gaz. Nothing, sir but pray 
 Your worship to give me handsel. 
 
 Grim. {Seizing him.'] By the ears, 
 Thus, sir, by the ears. 
 
 Mast. Hold, hold ! 
 
 Vitel. You'll still be prating. 
 
 Grim. Come, let's be drunk ; then each 
 
 man to his whore. 
 'Slight, how do you look ? you had best go 
 
 find a corner 
 
 To pray in, and repent : do, do, and cry ; 
 It will shew fine in pirates. {Exit. 
 
 Mast. We must follow, 
 Or he will spend our shares. 
 
 Boatsw. I fought for mine. 
 
 Mast. Nor am I so precise but I can drab 
 
 too: 
 We will not sit out for our parts. 
 
 Boatsw. Agreed. 
 
 [Exeunt Mast. Boatsw. Sailors. 
 
 Gaz. The devil gnaw off his fingers ! If 
 
 he were 
 In London, among the clubs, up went his 
 
 heels, 
 
 For stri king of a prentice. What do you lack? 
 What do you lack, gentlemen ? 
 
 1 Turk. I wonder how the viceroy can 
 endure 
 
 The insolence of this fellow. 
 
 2 Turk. He receives profit 
 
 From the prizes he brings in ; and that excuses 
 Whatever he commits. Ha 1 what are these? 
 
 Enter Mustapha -with Donusa -veiled. 
 
 i Turk. They seem of rank and quality : 
 
 observe them. 
 Gaz. What do you lack ? see what you 
 
 please to buy ; 
 
 Wares of all sorts, most honourable madona. 
 Vitel. Peace, sirrah, make no noise ; 
 
 these are not people 
 To be jested with. 
 
 Don. Is this the Christians' custom, 
 In the venting their commodities ? 
 
 Musta. Yes, best madam. 
 But you may please to keep your way, here's 
 
 nothing 
 But toys and trifles, not worth your observing. 
 
 Don. Yes, for variety's sake : pray you, 
 
 shew us, friend, 
 The chiefest of your wares. 
 
 Vitel. Your ladyship's servant ; 
 And if, in worth, or title you are more, 
 My ignorance plead my pardon ! 
 
 Don. He speaks well. 
 
 Vitel. Take down the looking-glass. Here 
 
 is a mirror 
 
 Steel'd so exactly, neither taking from 
 Nor flattering the object it returns 
 To the beholder, that Narcissus might 
 (And never grow enamour'd of himself) 
 View his fair feature in't. 
 
 Don. Poetical, too ! 
 
 Vitel. Here China dishes to serve in a 
 
 banquet, 
 
 Though the voluptuous Persian sat a guest. 
 Here crystal glasses, such as Ganymede 
 Did fill with nectar to the Thunderer, 
 When he drank to Alcides, and received him 
 In the fellowship of the gods ; true to the 
 
 owners : 
 
 Corinthian plate, studded with diamonds, 
 Conceal'd oft deadly poison ; this pure metal 
 So innocent is, and faithful to the mistress 
 Or master that possesses it, that, rather 
 Than hold one drop that's venomous, of itself 
 It flies in pieces, and deludes the traitor. 
 
 Don. How movingly could this fellow 
 
 treat upon 
 
 A worthy subject, that finds such discourse 
 To grace a trifle ! 
 
 Vitel. Here's a picture, madam ; 
 The master-piece of Michael Angelo, 
 Our great Italian workman ; here's another, 
 So perfect at all parts, that had Pygmalion 
 Seen this, his prayers had been made to 
 
 Venus 
 To have given it life, and his carved ivory 
 
 image 
 
 By poets ne'er remember'd. They are, in- 
 deed, 
 
 The rarest beauties of the Christian world, 
 And no where to be equall'd. 
 
 Don. You are partial 
 In the cause of those you favour ; I believe 
 I instantly could show you one, to theirs 
 Not much inferior. 
 
 Vitel. With your pardon, madam, 
 I am incredulous. 
 
 Don. Can you match me this ? 
 
 {Lifts her veil hastily. 
 
THE RENEGADO. 
 
 139 
 
 Vitcl. What wonder look I on ! I'll search 
 
 above, 
 And suddenly attend you. [Exit. 
 
 Don. Are you amazed ! 
 I'll bring you to yourself. 
 
 [Throws down the glasses. 
 Musta. Ha ! what's the matter ? 
 Gaz. My master's ware ! Weare undone! 
 
 O strange ! 
 
 A lady to turn roarer, and break glasses ! 
 Tis time to shut up shop then. 
 
 Musta. You seem moved : 
 If any language of these Christian dogs 
 Have called your anger on, in a frown shew it, 
 And they are dead already. 
 
 Don. The offence 
 
 Looks not so far. The foolish, paltry fellow, 
 Shew'd me some trifles, and demanded of me, 
 For what I valued at so many aspers, 
 A thousand ducats. I confess he moved me ; 
 Yet I should wrong myself, should such a 
 
 beggar 
 
 Receive least loss from me. 
 Musta. Is it no more? 
 Don. No, I assure you. Bid him bring 
 
 his bill 
 
 To-morrow to the palace, and enquire 
 For one Donusa; that word gives him passage 
 Through all the guard : say, there he shall 
 
 receive 
 
 Full satisfaction. Now, when you please. 
 Musta. I wait you. 
 
 \Exeunt Musta. and Don. 
 
 I Turk. We must not know them. Let's 
 
 shift off, and vanish. \Exeiint Turks. 
 
 Gaz. The swine's-pox overtake you! there's 
 
 a curse 
 For a Turk, that eats no hog's flesh. 
 
 Re-enter Vitelli. 
 
 Vitel. Is she gone ? 
 
 Gaz. Yes : you may see her handywork. 
 
 Vitel. No matter. 
 Said she aught else ? 
 
 Gaz. That you should wait upon her, 
 And there receive court payment ; and, to 
 
 pass 
 
 The guards, she bids you only say you come 
 To one Donusa. 
 
 Vitel. How ! Remove the wares ; 
 Do it without reply. The sultan's niece ! 
 I have heard among the Turks, for any lady 
 To shew her face bare, argues love, or speaks 
 Her deadly hatred. What should I fear ? my 
 
 fortune 
 
 Is sunk so low, there cannot fall upon me 
 Aught worth my shunning. I will run the 
 hazard : 
 
 She may be a means to free distress'd 
 
 Paulina 
 
 Or, if offended, at the worst, to die 
 Is a full period to calamity. [Exeunt. 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 SCENE I. A Room in Donusa's Palace. 
 Enter Carazie and Manto. 
 
 Car. In the name of wonder, Manto, what 
 
 hath my lady 
 Done with herself, since yesterday? 
 
 Mant. I know not. 
 
 Malicious men report we are all guided 
 In our affections by a wandering planet : 
 But such a sudden change in such a person, 
 May stand for an example, to confirm 
 Their false assertion. 
 
 Car. She's now pettish, froward ; 
 Music, discourse, observance, tedious to her. 
 Mant. She slept not the last night ; and 
 
 yet prevented 
 
 The rising sun, in being up before him : 
 Call'd for a costly bath, then will'dthe rooms 
 Should be perfumed ; ransack'd her cabinets 
 For her choice and richest jewels, and 
 
 appears now 
 
 Like Cynthia in full glory, waited on 
 By the fairest of the stars. 
 
 Car. Can you guess the reason, 
 Why the aga of the janizaries, and he 
 That guards the entrance of the inmost port, 
 Were call'd before her ? 
 
 Mant. They are both her creatures, 
 And by her grace preferred : but I am 
 
 ignorant 
 To what purpose they were sent for. 
 
 Enter Donusa. 
 
 Car. Here she comes, 
 Full of sad thoughts : we must stand further 
 
 off. 
 
 What a frown was that ! 
 Mant. Forbear. 
 Car. I pity her. 
 Don. What magic hath transform'd me 
 
 from myself? 
 
 Where is my virgin pride ? how have I lost 
 My boasted freedom? what new fire burns up 
 My scorched entrails ; what unknown desires 
 Invade, and take possession of my soul, 
 All virtuous objects vanish'd ? I, that have 
 
 stood 
 The shock of fierce temptations, stopp'd 
 
 mine ears 
 
 Against all Syren notes lust ever sung, 
 To draw my bark of chastity (that with 
 wonder 
 
T40 
 
 THE RENEGADO. 
 
 Hath kept a constant and an honour'd 
 
 course) 
 
 Into the gulf of a deserved ill-fame, 
 Now fall unpitied ; and, in a moment, 
 With mine own hands, dig up a grave to 
 
 bury 
 
 The monumental heap of all my years, 
 Employ'd in noble actions. O my fate ! 
 But there is no resisting. I obey thee, 
 Imperious god of love, and willingly 
 Put mine own fetters on, to grace thy 
 
 triumph : 
 
 'Twere therefore more than cruelty in thee, 
 To use me like a tyrant. What poor means 
 Must I make use of now ! and flatter such, 
 To whom, till I betray 'd my liberty, 
 One gracious look of mine would have 
 
 erected 
 An altar to my service ! How now, 
 
 Manto ! 
 
 My ever careful woman ; and Carazie, 
 Thou hast been faithful too. 
 
 Car. I dare not call 
 My life mine own, since it is yours, but 
 
 gladly 
 
 Will part with it, whene'er you shall com- 
 mand me ; 
 
 And think I fall a martyr, so my death 
 May give life to your pleasures. 
 
 Mant.. But vouchsafe 
 To let me understand what you desire 
 Should be effected ; I will undertake it, 
 And curse myself for cowardice, if I paused 
 To ask the reason why. 
 Don. I am comforted 
 In the tender of your service, but shall be 
 Confirm'd in my full joys, in the perfor- 
 mance. 
 
 Yet, trust me, I will not impose upon 
 But what you stand engaged for to a mis- 
 tress, 
 
 Such as I have been to you. All I ask, 
 Is faith and secrecy. 
 
 Car. Say but you doubt me, 
 And, to secure you, I'll cut out my tongue ; 
 I am libb'd in the breech already. 
 
 Mant. Do not hinder 
 Yourself, by these delays. 
 
 Don. Thus then I whisper 
 Mine own shame to you. O that I should 
 
 blush 
 
 To speak what I so much desire to do ! 
 And, further [ Whispers, and uses vehement 
 
 action. 
 
 Mant. Is this all? 
 Don. Think it not base ; 
 Although I know the office undergoes 
 A coarse construction. 
 
 Car. Coarse ! 'tis but procuring ; 
 
 A smock employment, which has made more 
 
 knights, 
 In a country I could name, than twenty 
 
 years 
 
 Of service in the field. 
 Don. You have my ends. 
 Mant. Which say you have arrived at : 
 
 be not wanting 
 To yourself, and fear not us. 
 Car. I know my burthen ; 
 I'll bear it with delight. 
 Mant. Talk not, but do. 
 
 [Exeunt Car. and Mant. 
 
 Don. O love, what poor shifts thou dost 
 
 force us to ! [Exit. 
 
 SCENE II. A Court in the same. 
 
 Enter Aga, Capiaga, and Janizaries. 
 
 Aga. She was ever our good mistress, and 
 
 our maker, 
 And should we check at a little hazard for 
 
 her, 
 We were unthankful. 
 
 Cap. I dare pawn my head, 
 Tis some disguised minion of the court, 
 Sent from great Amurath, to learn from her 
 The viceroy's actions. 
 
 Aga. That concerns not us ; 
 His "fall may be our rise : whate'er he be, 
 He passes through my guards. 
 
 Cap. And mine provided 
 He give the word. 
 
 Enter Vitelli. 
 
 Vitel. To faint now, being thus far, 
 Would argue me of cowardice. 
 
 Aga. Stand : the word ; 
 Or, being a Christian, to press thus far, 
 Forfeits thy life. 
 Vitel. Donusa. 
 Aga. Pass in peace. 
 
 [Exeunt Aga and Janizaries. 
 
 Vitel. What a privilege her name bears ! 
 
 'Tis wondrous strange ! If the great officer, 
 
 The guardian of the inner port, deny not 
 
 Cap. Thy warrant : Speak, or thou art 
 
 dead. 
 
 Vitel. Donusa. 
 Cap. That protects thee ; 
 Without fear enter. So : discharge the 
 watch. [Exeunt Vitelli and Capiaga. 
 
 SCENE III. An outer Room in the same. 
 
 Enter Carazie and Manto. 
 Car. Though he hath past the aga and 
 
 chief porter, 
 This cannot be the man. 
 
 Mant. By her description, 
 I am sure it is. 
 
THE RENEGADO. 
 
 141 
 
 Car. O women, women, 
 What are you ? A great lady dote upon 
 A haberdasher of small wares ! 
 
 Mant. Pish ! thou hast none. 
 
 Car. No ; if I had, I might have served 
 
 the turn : 
 
 This 'tis to want munition, when a man 
 Should make a breach, and enter. 
 
 Enter Vitelli. 
 
 Mant. Sir, you are welcome : 
 
 Think what 'tis to be happy, and possess it. 
 
 Car. Perfume the rooms there, and make 
 
 way. Let music 
 With choice notes entertain the man the 
 
 princess 
 Now purposes to honour. 
 
 Vitcl. I am ravish'd. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE IV. A Room of State in the same. 
 
 A table set forth, with jewels and bags oj 
 
 money upon it. 
 
 Loud music. Enter Donusa, {followed 
 Carazie,) and takes her seal. 
 
 Don. Sing o'er the ditty that I last com- 
 
 Upon my love-sick passion : suit your voice 
 To the music that's placed yonder, we shall 
 
 hear you 
 With more delight and pleasure. 
 
 Car. I obey you. [Song. 
 
 During the song, enter Manto and Vitelli. 
 
 Vitel. Is not this Tempe, or the blessed 
 
 shades, 
 
 Where innocent spirits reside? or do I dream, 
 And this a heavenly vision ? Howsoever, 
 It is a sight too glorious to behold, 
 For such a wretch as I am. 
 Car. He is daunted. 
 Mant. Speak to him, madam ; cheer him 
 
 up, or you 
 Destroy what you have built. 
 
 Car. Would I were furnish 'd 
 With his artillery, and if I stood 
 Gaping as he does, hang me. {Aside. 
 
 [Exeunt Carazie and Manto. 
 Vitel. That I might 
 Ever dream thus ! [Kneels. 
 
 Don. Banish amazement : 
 You wake ; your debtor tells you so, your 
 
 debtor. 
 
 And, to assure you that I am a substance, 
 And no aerial figure, thus I raise you. 
 Why do you shake ? my soft touch brings 
 
 no ague ; 
 
 No biting frost is in this palm ; nor are 
 My looks like to the Gorgon's head, that 
 turn 
 
 Men into statues ; rather they have power, 
 Or I have been abused, where they bestow 
 Their influence, (let me prove it truth in you, 
 To give to dead men motion. 
 
 Vitel. Can this be ? 
 
 May I believe my senses ? Dare I think 
 I have a memory, or that you are 
 That excellent creature that of late disdain'd 
 
 not 
 
 To look on my poor trifles ? 
 Don. I am she. 
 Vitel. The owner of that blessed name, 
 
 Donusa, 
 
 Which, like a potent charm, although pro- 
 nounced 
 By my profane, but much unworthier, 
 
 tongue, 
 Hath brought me safe to this forbidden 
 
 place, 
 
 Where Christian ne'er yet trod ? 
 Don. I am the same. 
 Vitel. And to what end, great lady par- 
 don me, 
 
 That I presume to ask, did your command 
 Command me hither? Or what am I, to- 
 
 whom 
 You should vouchsafe your favours ; nay, 
 
 your angers ? 
 
 If any wild or uncollected speech, 
 Offensively deliver'd, or my doubt 
 Of your unknown perfections, have displeased 
 
 you, 
 
 You wrong your indignation to pronounce, 
 Yourself, my sentence : to have seen you only r 
 And to have touch'd that fortune-making 
 
 hand, 
 Will with delight weigh down all tortures, 
 
 that 
 
 A flinty hangman's rage could execute, 
 Or rigid tyranny command with pleasure. 
 Don. How the abundance of good flowing 
 
 to thee, 
 Is wronged in this simplicity ! and these 
 
 bounties, 
 Which all our Eastern kings have kneeled 
 
 in vain for, 
 Do, by thy ignorance, or wilful fear, 
 Meet with a false construction ! Christian, 
 
 know, 
 
 For till thou art mine by a nearer name, 
 That title, though abhorr'd here, takes not 
 
 from 
 
 Thy entertainment) that 'tis not the fashion 
 Among the greatest and the fairest dames 
 This Turkish empire gladly owes and bows to, 
 To punish where there's no offence, or nourish 
 Displeasures against those, without whose 
 
 mercy 
 They part with all felicity. Prithee, be wise, 
 
142 
 
 THE RENEGADO. 
 
 And gently understand me ; do not force her, 
 That ne'er knew aught but to command, nor 
 
 e'er read 
 
 The elements of affection, but from such 
 As gladly sued to her, in the infancy 
 Of her new-born desires, to be at once 
 Importunate and immodest. 
 
 ViteL Did I know, 
 Great lady, your commands ; or, to what 
 
 purpose 
 
 This personated passion tends, (since 'twere 
 A crime in me deserving death, to think 
 It is your own,) I should, to make you sport, 
 Take any shape you please t'impose upon me; 
 And with joy strive to serve you. 
 
 Don. Sport ! thou art cruel, 
 Ir that thou canst interpret my descent 
 From my high birth and greatness, but to be 
 A part, in which I truly act myself : 
 And I must hold thee for a dull spectator, 
 If it stir not affection, and invite 
 Compassion for my sufferings. Be thou 
 
 taught 
 
 By my example, to make satisfaction 
 For wrongs unjustly offer'd. Willingly 
 I do confess my fault ; I injured thee 
 In some poor petty trifles ; thus I pay for 
 The trespass I did to thee. Here receive 
 These bags, stuff'd full of our imperial coin ; 
 Or, if this payment be too light, take here 
 These gems/ for which the slavish Indian 
 
 dives 
 
 To the bottom of the main : or, if thou scorn 
 These as base dross, which take but common 
 
 minds, 
 
 But fancy any honour in my gift, 
 Which is unbounded as the sultan's power, 
 And be possest of it. 
 
 ViteL I am overwhelm'd 
 With the weight of happiness you throw 
 
 upon me : 
 
 Nor can it fall in my imagination, 
 What wrong you e'er have done me ; and 
 
 much less 
 
 How, like a royal merchant, to return 
 Your great magnificence. 
 Don. They are degrees, 
 Not ends, of my intended favours to thee. 
 These seeds of bounty I yet scatter on 
 .A glebe I have not tried: '-but, be thou 
 
 thankful ; 
 'The harvest is to come. 
 
 ViteL What can be added 
 To that which I already have received, 
 I cannot comprehend. 
 Don. The tender of 
 Myself. Why dost thou start ? and in that 
 
 gift, 
 Full restitution of that virgin freedom 
 
 Which thou hast robb'd me of. Yet, I 
 
 profess, 
 
 I so far prize the lovely thief that stole it, 
 That, were it possible thou couldst restore 
 What thou unwittingly hast ravish'dfrom me, 
 I should refuse the present. 
 
 ViteL How I shake 
 
 In my constant resolution ! and my flesh, 
 Rebellious to my better part, now tells me, 
 As if it were a strong defence of frailty, 
 A hermit in a desert, trench'd with prayers, 
 Could not resist this battery. 
 
 Don. Thou an Italian, 
 Nay more, I know't, a natural Venetian, 
 Such as are courtiers born to please fair 
 
 ladies, 
 Yet come thus slowly on ! 
 
 ViteL Excuse me, madam : 
 What imputation soe'er the world 
 Is pleased to lay upon us, in myself 
 I am so innocent, that I know not what 'tis 
 That I should offer. 
 
 Don. By instinct I'll teach thee, 
 And with such ease as love makes me to 
 
 ask it. 
 When a young lady wrings you by the hand, 
 
 thus, 
 
 Or with an amorous touch presses your foot, 
 Looks babies in your eyes, plays with your 
 
 locks, 
 
 Do not you find, without a tutor's help, 
 What 'tis she looks for ? 
 
 ViteL I am grown already 
 Skilful in the mystery. 
 
 Don. Or, if thus she kiss you, 
 
 Then tastes your lips again [Kisses him. 
 
 ViteL That latter blow 
 Has beat all chaste thoughts from me. 
 
 Don. Say, she points to 
 Some private room the sunbeams never 
 
 enter, 
 
 Provoking dishes passing by, to heighten 
 Declined appetite, active music ushering 
 Your fainting steps, the waiters too, as born 
 
 dumb, 
 Not daring to look on you. 
 
 [Exit, inviting him to follow. 
 
 ViteL Though the devil 
 
 Stood by, and roar'd, I follow : Now I find 
 
 That virtue's but a word, and no sure guard, 
 
 If set upon by beauty and reward. [Exit. 
 
 SCENE V. A Hall in Asambeg's Palace. 
 Enter Aga, Capiaga, Grimaldi, Master, 
 
 Boatswain, and Sailors. 
 Aga. The devil's in him, I think. 
 Grim. Let him be damn'd too. 
 I'll look on him, though he stared as wild as 
 hell; 
 
THE RENEGADO. 
 
 143 
 
 Nay, I'll go near to tell him to his teeth, 
 
 If he mends not suddenly, and proves more 
 thankful, 
 
 We do him too much service. Were't not 
 for shame now, 
 
 I could turn honest, and forswear my trade ; 
 
 Which, next to being truss 'd up at the 
 mainyard 
 
 By some low country butterbox, I hate 
 
 As deadly as I do fasting, or long grace 
 
 When meat cools on the table. 
 Cap. But take heed ; 
 
 You know his violent nature. 
 Grim. Let his whores 
 
 And catamites know't ! I understand my- 
 self, 
 
 And how unmanly 'tis to sit at home, 
 
 And rail at us, that run abroad all hazards, 
 
 If every week we bring not home new pillage, 
 
 For the fatting his seraglio. 
 
 Enter Asambeg, Mustapha, and Attendants. 
 
 Aga. Here he comes. 
 Cap. How terrible he looks ! 
 Grim. To such as fear him. 
 The viceroy, Asambeg ! were he the sultan's 
 
 self 
 
 He'll let us know a reason for his fury ; 
 Or we must take leave, without his allowance, 
 To be merry with our ignorance. 
 
 Asam. Mahomet's hell 
 Light on you all ! You crouch and cringe 
 
 now : Where 
 Was the terror of my just frowns, when you 
 
 suffer'd 
 
 Those thieves of Malta, almost in our harbour, 
 To board a ship, and bear her safely off, 
 While you stood idle lookers on? 
 
 Aga. The odds 
 In the men and shipping, and the suddenness 
 Of their departure, yielding us no leisure 
 To send forth others to relieve our own, 
 Deterr'd us, mighty sir. 
 
 Asam. Deterr'd you, cowards ! 
 How durst you only entertain the knowledge 
 Of what fear was, but in the not performance 
 Of our command ? In me great Amurath 
 
 spake ; 
 
 My voice did echo to your ears his thunder 
 .And will'd you, like so many sea-born tritons 
 Arm'donly with the trumpets of your courage 
 To swim up to her, and, like remoras 
 Hanging upon her keel, to stay her flight, 
 Till rescue, sent from us, had fetch'd you off 
 You think you're safe now. Who durst bu 
 
 dispute it, 
 
 Or make it questionable, if, this moment, 
 I charged you, from yon hanging cliff, tha 
 glasses 
 
 3is rugged forehead in the neighbouringlake, 
 To throw yourselves down headlong? or, like 
 
 faggots, 
 
 To fill the ditches of defended forts, 
 rVhile on your backs we march'd up to the 
 
 breach ? 
 
 Grim. What would not I. 
 Asam. Ha ! 
 
 Grim. Yet I dare as much 
 As any of the sultan's boldest sons, 
 Whose heaven and hell hang on his frown 
 
 or smile, 
 His warlike janizaries. 
 
 Asam. Add one syllable more, 
 Thou dost pronounce upon thyself a sentence 
 That, earthquake-like, will swallow thee. 
 
 Grim. Let it open, 
 I'll stand the hazard : those contemned 
 
 thieves, 
 
 bur fellow-pirates, sir, the bold Maltese, 
 Whom with your looks you think to quell, at 
 
 Rhodes 
 Laugh'd at great Solyman's anger : and, if 
 
 treason 
 
 Had not delivered them into his power, 
 He had grown old in glory as in years, 
 At that so fatal siege ; or risen with shame, 
 His hopes and threats deluded. 
 
 Asam. Our great prophet ! 
 How have I lost my anger and my power ! 
 Grim. Find it, and use it on thy flatterers, 
 And not upon thy friends, that dare speak 
 
 truth. 
 
 These knights of Malta, but a handful to 
 Your armies, that drink rivers up, have stood 
 Your fury at the height, and with their 
 
 crosses 
 Struck pale your horned moons ; these men 
 
 of Malta, 
 Since I took pay from you, I've met and 
 
 fought with 
 
 Upon advantage too ; yet, to speak truth, 
 By the soul of honour, I have ever found them 
 As provident to direct, and bold to do, 
 As any train'd up in your discipline, 
 Ravish 'd from other nations. 
 
 Must a. I perceive 
 
 The lightning in his fiery looks ; the cloud 
 Is broke already. [Aside. 
 
 Grim. Think not, therefore,, sir, 
 That you alone are giants, and such pigmies 
 You war upon. 
 
 Asam. Villain ! I'll make thee know 
 Thou hast blasphemed the Othoman power, 
 
 and safer, 
 At noonday, might'st have given fire to St. 
 
 Mark's, 
 
 Your proud Venetian temple. Seize upon 
 him: 
 
144 
 
 THE REXEGADO. 
 
 I am not so near reconciled to him, 
 To bid him die ; that were a benefit 
 The dog's unworthy of. To our use con- 
 fiscate 
 
 All that he stands possess'd of; let him taste 
 The misery of want, and his vain riots, 
 Like to so many walking ghosts, affright 
 
 him, 
 
 Where'er he sets his desperate foot. Who is't 
 That does command you? 
 Grim. Is this the reward 
 For all my service, and the rape I made 
 On fair Paulina ? 
 
 Asam. Drag him hence : he dies, 
 That dallies but a minute. 
 
 [Grimaldi is dragg'd off, his head covered. 
 Boatsw. What's become of 
 Our shares now, master ? 
 
 Mast. Would he had been born dumb ! 
 The beggar's cure, patience, is all that's 
 left us. 
 
 [Exeunt Master, Boatswain, and Sailors. 
 Musta. 'Twas but intemperance of speech, 
 
 excuse him ; 
 
 Let me prevail so far. Fame gives him out 
 For a deserving fellow. 
 
 Asam. At Aleppo, 
 
 I durst not press you so far*: give me leave 
 To use my own will, and command in Tunis ; 
 And, if you please, my privacy. 
 
 Musta. I will see you, 
 When this high wind's blown o'er. [Exit. 
 
 Asam. So shall you find me 
 Ready to do you service. Rage, now leave me ; 
 Stern looks, and all the ceremonious forms 
 Attending on dread majesty, fly from 
 Transformed Asambeg. Why should I hug 
 [Pulls out a key. 
 So near myheart, what leads me tomyprison ; 
 Where she that is inthrall'd, commands her 
 
 keeper, 
 And robs me of the fierceness I was born 
 
 with ? 
 
 Stout men quake at myfrowns, and, in return, 
 I tremble at her softness. Base Grimaldi 
 But only named Paulina, and the charm 
 Had almost choak'd my fury, ere I could 
 Pronounce his sentence. Would, when first 
 
 I saw her, 
 Mine eyes had met with lightning, and, in 
 
 place 
 
 Of hearing her enchanting tongue, the shrieks 
 Of mandrakes had made music to my slum- 
 bers ! 
 
 For now I only walk a loving dream, 
 And, but to my dishonour, never wake ; 
 And yet am blind, but when I see the object, 
 And madly dote on it. Appear, bright spark 
 [Opens a door ; Paulina comes forth. 
 
 Of all perfection ! any simile 
 Borrow'd from diamonds, or the fairest stars, 
 To help me to express how dear I prize 
 Thy unmatch'd graces, will rise up, and 
 
 chide me 
 For poor detraction. 
 
 Paul. I despise thy flatteries : 
 Thus spit at them, and scorn them ; and 
 
 being arm'd 
 
 In the assurance of my innocent virtue, 
 I stamp upon all doubts, all fears, all tortures 
 Thy barbarous cruelty, or, what's worse, thy 
 
 dotage, 
 
 The worthy parent of thy jealousy, 
 Can shower upon me. 
 
 Asam. If these bitter taunts 
 Ravish me from myself, and make me think 
 My greedy ears receive angelical sounds ; 
 How would this tongue, tuned to aloving note, 
 Invade, and take possession of my soul, 
 Which then I durst not call mine own ! 
 
 Paul. Thou art false, 
 
 Falser than thy religion. Do but think me 
 Something above a beast, nay more, a 
 
 monster 
 Would fright the sun to look on, and then 
 
 tell me, 
 
 If this base usage can invite affection ? 
 If to be mewed up, and excluded from 
 Human society ; the use of pleasures ; 
 The necessary, not superfluous duties 
 Of servants, to discharge those offices 
 
 I blush to name 
 
 Asam. Of servants ! Can you think 
 That I, that dare not trust the eye of heaven 
 To look upon your beauties ; that deny 
 Myself the happiness to touch your pureness, 
 Will e'er consent an eunuch, or bought 
 
 handmaid, 
 
 Shall once approach you? There is some- 
 thing in you 
 
 That can work miracles, or I am cozen'd ; 
 Dispose and alter sexes, to my wrong, 
 In spite of nature. I will be your nurse, 
 Your woman, your physician, and your fool ' 
 Till, with your free consent, which I have 
 
 vow'd 
 
 Never to force, you grace me with a name 
 That shall supply all these. 
 Paul. What is it? 
 Asam. Your husband. 
 Paul. My hangman, when thou pleasest. 
 Asam. Thus I guard me 
 Against your further angers. 
 
 [Leads her to the door. 
 Paul. Which shall reach thee, 
 Though I were in the centre. 
 
 [Asambeg closes the door upon her, and 
 locks it. 
 
THE RENEGADO. 
 
 145 
 
 Asam. Such a spirit, 
 
 In such a small proportion, I ne'er read of, 
 Which time must alter. Ravish her I dare not ; 
 The magic that she wears about her neck, 
 I think, defends her : this devotion paid 
 To this sweet saint, mistress of my sour pain, 
 'Tis fit I take mine own rough shape again. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 SCENE VI. A Street near Donusa's 
 
 Palace. 
 
 Enter Francisco and Gazet. 
 Fran. I think he's lost. 
 Gaz. 'Tis ten to one of that ; 
 I ne'er knew citizen turn courtier yet, 
 But he lost his credit though he saved himself. 
 Why, look you, sir, there are so many lobbies, 
 Out-offices, and dispartations here, 
 Behind these Turkish hangings, that a 
 
 Christian 
 Hardly gets off but circumcised. 
 
 Enter Vitelli, richly habited, Carazie, and 
 
 Manto. 
 
 Fran. I am troubled, 
 
 Troubled exceedingly. Ha ! what are these ? 
 Gaz. One, by his rich suit, should be some 
 
 French ambassador : 
 For his train, I think they are Turks. 
 Fran. Peace ! be not seen. 
 Car. You are now past all the guards, 
 
 and, undiscover'd, 
 You may return. 
 
 Vitel. There's for your pains ; forget not 
 My humblest service to the best of ladies. 
 Manl. Deserve her favour, sir, by making 
 
 haste 
 For a second entertainment. 
 
 {Exeunt Carazie and Manto. 
 Vitcl. Do not doubt me ; 
 I shall not live till then. 
 
 Gaz. The train is vanish'd : 
 They have done him some good office, he's 
 
 so free 
 
 And liberal of his gold. Ha ! do I dream, 
 Or is this mine own natural master? 
 
 Fran. 'Tis he : 
 But strangely metamorphosed. You have 
 
 made, sir, 
 .A prosperous voyage ; heaven grant it be 
 
 honest, 
 I shall rejoice then, too. 
 
 Gaz. You make him blush, 
 To talk of honesty : you were but now 
 In the giving vein, and may think of Gazet, 
 Your worship's prentice. 
 
 Vitel. There's gold : be thou free too, 
 And master of my shop, and all the wares 
 We brought from Venice. 
 
 Gaz. Rivo ! then. 
 Vitel. Dear sir, 
 
 This place affords not privacy for discourse ; 
 But I can tell you wonders : my rich habit 
 Deserves least admiration ; there is nothing 
 That can fall in the compass of your wishes, 
 Though it were to redeem a thousand slaves 
 From the Turkish galli'es, or, at home, to 
 
 erect 
 
 Some pious work^to shame all hospitals, 
 But I am master of the means. 
 Fran. 'Tis strange. 
 Vitel. As I walk, I'll tell you more. 
 Gaz. Pray you, a word, sir ; 
 And then I will put on : I have one boon 
 
 more. 
 
 Vitel. Whatis't? speak freely. 
 Gaz. Thus then : As I am master 
 Of your shop and wares, pray you help me 
 
 to some trucking 
 With your last she-customer ; though she 
 
 crack my best piece, 
 I will endure it with patience. 
 Vitel. Leave your prating. 
 Gaz. I may : you have been doing ; we 
 
 will do too. 
 Fran. I am amazed, yet will not blame 
 
 nor chide you, 
 
 Till you inform me further : yet must say, 
 They steer not the right course, nor traffic 
 
 well, 
 
 That seek a passage to reach heaven through 
 hell. [Exeunt. 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 SCENE I. A Room in Donusa's Palace. 
 Enter Donusa and Manto. 
 
 Don. When said he he would come again ? 
 Mant. He swore, 
 Short minutes should be tedious ages to 
 
 him, 
 
 Until the tender of his second service ; 
 So much he seemed transported with the 
 
 first. 
 Don. I'm sure I was. I charge thee, Manto, 
 
 tell me, 
 
 By all my favours, and my bounties, truly, 
 Whether thou art a virgin, or, like me, 
 Hast forfeited that name ? 
 
 Mant. A virgin, madam, 
 At my years ! being a waiting-woman, and 
 
 in court too ! 
 
 That were miraculous. I so long since lost 
 That barren burthen, I almost forget 
 That ever I was one. 
 Don. And could thy friends 
 
 L, 
 
4 6 
 
 THE REXEGADO. 
 
 .ead in thy face, thy maidenhead gone, that 
 
 thou 
 Had'st parted with it? 
 
 Mant. No, indeed : I past 
 r or current many years after, till, by fortune, 
 ^ong and continued practice in the sport 
 Slew up my deck ; a husband then was found 
 
 out 
 
 3y my indulgent father, and to the world 
 All was made whole again. What need you 
 
 fear, then, 
 That, at your pleasure, may repair your 
 
 honour, 
 
 Durst any envious or malicious tongue 
 Presume to taint it ? 
 
 Enter Carazie. 
 
 Don. How now ? 
 
 Car. Madam, the basha 
 dumbly desires access. 
 
 Don. If it had been 
 
 Vly neat Italian, thou hadst met my wishes. 
 Tell him we would be private. 
 
 Car. So I did, 
 But he is much importunate. 
 
 Mant. Best despatch him : 
 His lingering here else will deter the other 
 From making his approach. 
 
 Don. His entertainment 
 Shall not invite a second visit. Go ; 
 Say we are pleased. 
 
 Enter Mustapha. 
 
 Musta. All happiness 
 
 Don. Be sudden. 
 
 'Twas saucy rudeness in you, sir, to press 
 On my retirements ; but ridiculous folly 
 To waste the time, that might be betterspent, 
 In complimental wishes. 
 
 Car. There's a cooling 
 For his hot encounter ! . [Aside. 
 
 Don. Come you here to stare ? 
 If you have lost your tongue, and use of 
 
 speech, 
 Resign your government ; there's a mute's 
 
 place void 
 In my uncle's court, I hear ; and you may 
 
 work me, 
 To write for your preferment. 
 
 Musta. This is strange ! 
 I know not, madam, what neglect of mine 
 Has call'd this scorn upon me. 
 
 Don. To the purpose 
 
 My will's a reason, and we stand not bound 
 To yield account to you. 
 
 Musta. Not of your angers : 
 But with erected ears I should hear from you 
 The story of your good opinion of me, 
 Confirm'd by love and favours. 
 
 Don. How deserved ? 
 [ have considered you from head to foot, 
 And can find nothing in that wainscot face, 
 That can teach me to dote ; nor am I taken 
 With your grim aspect, or tadpole-like 
 
 complexion. 
 
 Those scars you glory in, I fear to look on ; 
 And had much rather hear a merry tale, 
 Than all your battles won with blood and 
 
 sweat, 
 Though you belch forth the stink too in the 
 
 service, 
 
 And swear by your mustachios all is true. 
 You are yet too rough for me : purge and; 
 
 take physic, 
 Purchase perfumers, get me some French 
 
 tailor 
 To new-create you ; the first shape you were 
 
 made with 
 Is quite worn out : let your barber wash 
 
 your face too, 
 
 You look yet like abugbear to fright children ; 
 Till when I take my leave. Wait me, Carazie. 
 \Exeu7it Donusa and Carazie. 
 Musta. Stay you, my lady's cabinet-key. 
 [Seizes Manto. 
 Mant. How's this, sir? 
 Musta. Stay, and stand quietly, or you 
 
 shall fall else, 
 Not to firk your belly up, flounder-like, but 
 
 never 
 
 To rise again. Offer but to unlock 
 These doors that stop your fugitive tongue, 
 
 (observe me,) 
 And, by my fury, I'll fix there this bolt 
 
 [Draws his scimitar. 
 
 To bar thy speech for ever. So! be safe now; 
 And but resolve me, not of what I doubt, 
 But bring assurance to a thing believed, 
 Thou makest thyself a fortune ; not depending 
 On the uncertain favours of a mistress, 
 But art thyself one. I'll not so far question 
 My judgment and observance, as to ask 
 Why I am slighted and contemn'd ; but in 
 Whose favour it is done? I, that have read 
 The copious volumeof all women's falsehood, 
 Commented on by the heart-breaking groans 
 Of abused lovers ; all the doubts wash'd off 
 With fruitless tears, the spider's cobweb veil 
 Of arguments alleged in their defence, 
 Blown off with sighs of desperate men, and, 
 
 they 
 
 Appearing in their full deformity ; 
 Know that some other hath displanted me, 
 With her dishonour. Has she given it up ? 
 Confirm it in two syllables. 
 Mant. She has. 
 
 Musta. 1 cherish thy confession thus, and 
 thus ; [Gives her jewels. 
 
THE RENEGADO. 
 
 Be mine. Again I court thee thus, and thus : 
 Now prove but constant to my ends. 
 
 Mant. By all 
 
 Musta. Enough ; I dare not doubt thee. 
 
 O land crocodiles, 
 
 Made of Egyptian slime, accursed women ! 
 
 But 'tis no time to rail come, my best 
 
 Manto. \_Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE II. A Street. 
 Enter Vitelli and Francisco. 
 
 Vitel. Sir, as you are my confessor, you 
 
 stand bound 
 
 Not to reveal whatever I discover 
 In that religious way ; nor dare I doubt you. 
 Let it suffice you have made me see my follies, 
 And wrought, perhaps, compunction ; for I 
 
 would not 
 
 Appear an hypocrite. But, when you impose 
 A penance on me beyond flesh and blood 
 To undergo, you must instruct me how 
 To put off the condition of a man : 
 Or, if not pardon, at the least, excuse 
 My disobedience. Yet, despair not, sir ; 
 For, though I take mine own way, I shall do 
 Something that may hereafter, to my glory, 
 Speak me your scholar. 
 
 Fran. I enjoin you not 
 To go, but send. 
 
 Vitel. That were a petty trial ; 
 Not worth one, so long taught, and exercised, 
 Under so grave a master. Reverend Fran- 
 cisco, 
 
 My friend, my father, in that word, my all ! 
 Rest confident you shall hear something of 
 
 me, 
 
 That will redeem me in your good opinion ; 
 Or judge me lost for ever. Send Gazet 
 (She shall give order that he may have en- 
 trance) 
 To acquaint you with my fortunes. [Exit. 
 
 Fran. Go, and prosper. 
 Holy saints guide and strengthen thee ! 
 
 however, 
 
 As thy endeavours are, so may they find 
 Gracious acceptance. 
 
 Enter Gazet, and Grimaldi in rags. 
 
 Gaz. Now, you do not roar, sir ; 
 You speak not tempests, nor take ear-rent 
 
 from 
 A poor shop-keeper. Do you remember 
 
 that, sir? 
 I wear your marks here still. 
 
 Fran. Can this be possible ? 
 All wonders are not ceased, then. 
 
 Grim. Do, abuse me, 
 Spit on me. spurn me, pull me by the nose, 
 
 Thrust out these fiery eyes, that yesterday 
 Would have look'd thee dead. 
 Gaz. O save me, sir ! 
 Grim. Fear nothing. 
 I am tame and quiet ; there's no wrong can 
 
 force me 
 
 To remember what I was. I have forgot 
 I e'er had ireful fierceness, a steel'd heart, 
 Insensible of compassion to others ; 
 Nor is it fit that I should think myself 
 Worth mine own pity. Oh ! 
 Fran. Grows this dejection 
 From his disgrace, do you say ? 
 
 Gaz. Why, he's cashier'd, sir ; 
 His ships, his goods, his livery-punks, con- 
 fiscate : 
 And there is such a punishment laid upon 
 
 him ! 
 
 The miserable rogue must steal no more, 
 Nor drink, nor drab. 
 Fran. Does that torment him ? 
 Gaz. O, sir, 
 Should the state take order to bar men of 
 
 acres 
 
 From these two laudable recreations, 
 Drinking and whoring, how should panders 
 
 purchase, 
 
 Or thrifty whores build hospitals ? 'Slid ! if I, 
 That, since I am made free, may write myself 
 A city gallant, should forfeit two such charters, 
 I should be stoned to death, and ne'er be 
 
 pitied 
 By the liveries of those companies. 
 
 Fran. You'll be whipt, sir, 
 If you bridle not your tongue. Haste to the 
 
 palace, 
 Your master looks for you. 
 
 Gaz. My quondam master. 
 Rich sons forget they ever had poor fathers ; 
 In seVvants 'tis more pardonable : as a com- 
 panion, 
 Or so, I may consent : but, is there hope, 
 
 sir, 
 He has got me a good chapwoman ? pray 
 
 you, write 
 
 A word or two in my behalf. 
 Fran. Out, rascal ! 
 Gaz. I feel some insurrections. 
 Fran. Hence ! 
 
 Gaz. I vanish. [Exit. 
 
 Grim. Why should I study a defence or 
 
 comfort, 
 
 In whom black guilt and misery, if balanced, 
 I know not which would turn the scale? 
 
 look upward 
 
 I dare not ; for, should it but be believed 
 That I, died deep in hell's most horrid colours, 
 Should dare to hope for mercy, it would leave 
 No check or feeling in men innocent, 
 
I4 8 
 
 THE REXEGADO. 
 
 To catch at sins the devil ne'er taught man- 
 kind yet. 
 
 No ! I must downward, downward ; though 
 repentance 
 
 Could borrow all the glorious wings of grace, 
 
 My mountainous weight of sins would 
 crack their pinions, 
 
 And sink them to hell with me. 
 Fran. Dreadful ! Hear me, 
 
 Thou miserable man. 
 
 Grim. Good sir, deny not 
 
 But that there is no punishment beyond 
 
 Damnation. 
 
 Enter Master and Boatswain. 
 
 Master, Yonder he is ; I pity him. 
 Boatsw. Take comfort, captain ; we live 
 
 still to serve you. 
 Grim. Serve me ! I am a devil already : 
 
 leave me 
 Stand further off, you are blasted else ! I 
 
 have heard 
 
 Schoolmen affirm man's body is composed 
 Of the four elements ; and, as in league to- 
 gether 
 
 They nourish life, so each of them affords 
 Liberty to the soul, when it grows weary 
 Of this fleshy prison. Which shall I make 
 
 choice of? 
 
 The fire ? no ; I shall feel that hereafter ; 
 The earth will not receive me. Should 
 
 some whirlwind 
 
 Snatch me into the air, and I hang there, 
 Peipetual plagues would dwell upon the earth ; 
 And those superior bodies, that pour down 
 Their cheerful influence, deny to pass it, 
 Through those vast regions I have infected. 
 The sea? ay, that is justice: there I plough'd 
 
 up 
 
 Mischief as deepas hell: there, there, I'll hide 
 This cursed lump of clay. May it turn rocks, 
 Where plummet's weight could never reach 
 
 the sands, 
 
 And grind the ribs of all such barks as press 
 The ocean's breast in my unlawful course ! 
 I haste then to thee ; let thy ravenous womb, 
 Whom all things else deny, be now my tomb! 
 
 {Exit. 
 Master. Follow him, and restrain him. 
 
 {Exit Boatswain. 
 Fran. Let this stand 
 For an example to you. I'll provide 
 A lodging for him, and provide such cures 
 To his wounded conscience, as heaven hath 
 
 lent me. 
 
 He's now my second care ; and my profession 
 Binds me to teach the desperate to repent, 
 As far as to confirm the innocent. {Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE III. A Room in Asambeg sPatace. 
 
 Enter Asambeg, Mustapha, Aga, and. 
 
 Capiaga. 
 
 Asam. Your pleasure ? 
 Musta. 'Twill exact your private ear ; 
 And, when you have received it, you will 
 
 think 
 Too many know it. 
 
 Asam. Leave the room ; but be 
 Within our call. 
 
 {Exeunt Aga, and Capiaga. 
 
 Now, sir, what burning secret 
 
 (With which, it seems, you are turn'd cinders) 
 
 bring you, 
 To quench in my advice or power? 
 
 Musta. The fire 
 Will rather reach you. 
 Asam. Me ! 
 
 Musta. And consume both ; 
 For 'tis impossible to be put out, 
 But with the blood of those that kindle it : 
 And yet one vial of it is so precious, 
 In being borrow'd from the Othoman spring, 
 That better 'tis, I think, both we should 
 
 perish, 
 Than prove the desperate means that must 
 
 restrain it 
 From spreading further. 
 
 Asam. To the point, and quickly : 
 These winding circumstances in relations, 
 Seldom environ truth. 
 
 Musta. Truth, Asambeg ! 
 
 Asam. Truth, Mustapha. I said it, and 
 
 add more, 
 
 You touch upon a string that, to my ear, 
 Does sound Donusa. 
 
 Musta. You then understand 
 Who 'tis I aim at. 
 
 Asam. Take heed, Mustapha ; 
 Remember what she is, and whose we are : 
 'Tis her neglect, perhaps, that you complain 
 
 of; 
 
 And, should you practise to revenge her 
 scorn, 
 
 With any plot to taint her in her honour, 
 
 Musta. Hear me. 
 
 Asam. I will be heard first, there's no 
 
 tongue 
 
 A subject owes, that shall out-thunder mine. 
 Musi a. Well, take your way. 
 Asam. I then again repeat it ; 
 If Mustapha dares with malicious breath, 
 On jealous .suppositions, presume 
 To blast the blossom of Donusa's fame, 
 Because he is denied a happiness 
 Which men of equal, nay, of more desert, 
 
 Have sued in vain for 
 
 Musta. More ! 
 
THE RENEGADO. 
 
 149 
 
 Asam. More. Twas I spake it. 
 The basha of Natolia and myself 
 Were rivals for her ; either of us brought 
 More victories, more trophies, to plead for us 
 To our great master, than you dare lay claim 
 
 to ; 
 
 Yet still, by his allowance, she was left 
 To her election : each of us owed nature 
 As much for outward form and inward worth, 
 To make way for us to her grace and favour, 
 As you brought with you. We were heard, 
 
 repulsed ; 
 
 Yet thought it no dishonour to sit down 
 With the disgrace, if not to force affection 
 May merit such a name. 
 Musta. Have you done yet ? 
 Asam. Be, therefore, more than sure the 
 
 ground on which 
 
 You raise your accusation, may admit 
 No undermining of defence in her : 
 For if, with pregnant and apparent proofs, 
 Such as may force a judge, more than inclined, 
 Or partial in her cause, to swear her guilty, 
 You win not me to set off your belief ; 
 Neither our ancient friendship, nor the rites 
 Of sacred hospitality, to which 
 I would not offer violence, shall protect you : 
 Now, when you please. 
 
 Musta. I will not dwell upon 
 Much circumstance ; yet cannot but profess, 
 With the assurance of a loyalty 
 Equal to yours, the reverence I owe 
 The sultan, and all such his blood makes 
 
 sacred ; 
 
 That there is not a vein of mine, which yet is 
 Unemptied in his service, but this moment 
 Should freely open, so it might wash off 
 The stains of her dishonour. Could you 
 
 think, 
 
 Or, though you saw it, credit your own eyes, 
 That she, the wonder and amazement of 
 Her sex, the pride and glory of the empire, 
 That hath disdain'd you, slighted me, and 
 
 boasted 
 
 A frozen coldness, which no appetite 
 Or height of blood could thaw ; should now 
 
 so far 
 
 Be hurried with the violence of her lust, 
 As, in it burying her high birth, and fame, 
 Basely descend to fill a Christian's arms ; 
 And to him yield her virgin honour up, 
 Nay, sue to him to take it ? 
 Asam. A Christian ! 
 Musta. Temper 
 Your admiration : and what Christian, 
 
 think you ? 
 No prince disguised, no man of mark, nor 
 
 honour ; 
 No daring undertaker in our service, 
 
 But one, whose lips her foot should scorn 
 
 to touch ; 
 A poor mechanic pedlar. 
 
 Asam. He ! 
 . Musta. Nay, more ; 
 Whom do you think she made her scout, 
 
 nay bawd, 
 To find him out, but me? What place 
 
 make choice of 
 To wallow in her foul and loathsome 
 
 pleasures, 
 
 But in the palace ? Who the instruments 
 Of close conveyance, but the captain of 
 Your guard, the aga, and that man of trust, 
 The warden of the inmost port? I'll prove 
 
 this : 
 
 And, though I fail to shew her in the act, 
 Glued like a neighing gennet to her stallion, 
 Your incredulity shall be convinced 
 With proofs I blush to think on. 
 
 Asam. Never yet 
 
 This flesh felt such a fever. By the life 
 And fortune of great Amurath, should our 
 
 prophet 
 (Whose name I bow to) in a vision speak 
 
 this, 
 Twould make me doubtful of my faith ! 
 
 Lead on ; 
 And, when my eyes and ears are, like yours, 
 
 guilty, 
 
 My rage shall then appear ; for I will do 
 Something but what, I am not yet de- 
 
 termin'd. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE IV. An outer room in Donusa's 
 Palace. 
 
 Enter Carazie, Manto, and Gazet gaily 
 dressed. 
 
 Car. They are private to their wishes ? 
 
 Mant. Doubt it not. 
 
 Gaz. A pretty structure this ! a court do 
 
 you call it? 
 Vaulted and arch'd ! O, here has been old 
 
 jumbling 
 Behind this arras. 
 
 Car, Prithee let's have some sport 
 With this fresh codshead. 
 
 Mant. I am out of tune, 
 But do as you please. My conscience ! 
 
 tush ! the hope 
 
 Of liberty throws that burthen off ; I must 
 Go watch, and make discovery. 
 
 [Aside, and exit. 
 
 Car. He is musing, 
 
 And will talk to himself ; he cannot hold : 
 The poor fool's ravish 'd. 
 
 Gaz. I am in my master's clothes, 
 1 hey fit me to a hair too ; let but any 
 
THE REXEGADO. 
 
 Indifferent gamester measure us inch by 
 
 inch, 
 
 Or weigh us by the standard, I may pass : 
 I have been proved and proved again true 
 
 metal. 
 
 Car. How he surveys himself ! 
 Gaz. I have heard, that some 
 Have fooled themselves at court into good 
 
 fortunes, 
 That never hoped to thrive by wit in the 
 
 city, 
 
 Or honesty in the country. If I do not 
 Make the best laugh at me, I'll weep for 
 
 myself, 
 If they give me hearing : 'tis resolved I'll 
 
 try 
 What may be done. By your favour, sir, 
 
 I pray you, 
 Were you born a courtier ? 
 
 Car. No, sir ; why do you ask ? 
 
 Gaz. Because I thought that none could 
 
 be preferred, 
 But such as were begot there. 
 
 Car. O, sir ! many ; 
 And, howsoe'er you are a citizen born, 
 Yet if your mother were a handsome woman, 
 And ever long'd to see a masque at court, 
 It is an even lay, but that you had 
 A courtier to your father ; and I think so, 
 You bear yourself so sprightly. 
 
 Gaz. It may be ; 
 But pray you, sir, had I such an itch upon 
 
 me 
 
 To change my copy, is there hope a place 
 May be had here for money? 
 
 Car. Not without it, 
 That I dare warrant you. 
 
 Gaz. I have a pretty stock, 
 And would not have my good parts undis- 
 
 cover'd : 
 
 What places of credit are there? 
 Car. There's your beglerbeg. 
 . Gaz. By no means that ; it comes too near 
 
 the beggar, 
 
 And most prove so, that come there. 
 Car. Or your sanzacke. 
 Gaz. Sauce-jack ! fie, none of that. 
 Car. Your chiaus. 
 Gaz. Nor that. 
 Car. Chief gardener. 
 Gaz. Out upon't ! 
 Twill put me in mind my mother was an 
 
 herb-woman. 
 
 What is your place, I pray you ? 
 Car. Sir, an eunuch. 
 Gaz. An eunuch ! very fine, i'faith ; an 
 
 eunuch ! 
 
 And what are your employments ? 
 Car. Neat and easy : 
 
 In the day, I wait on my lady when she eats, 
 ~"arry her pantofles, bear up her train ; 
 Sing her asleep at night, and, when she 
 
 pleases, 
 I am her bedfellow. 
 
 Gaz. How! her bedfellow ? 
 And lie with her? 
 
 Car. Yes, and lie with her. 
 
 Gaz. O rare ! 
 
 I'll be an eunuch, though I sell my shop for't, 
 And all my wares. 
 
 Car. It is but parting with 
 A precious stone ortwo: I knowtheprice on't. 
 
 Gaz. I'll part with all my stones ; and 
 
 when I am 
 An eunuch, I'll so toss and touse the 
 
 ladies 
 
 Pray you help me to a chapman. 
 
 Car. The court surgeon 
 Shall do you that favour. 
 
 Gaz. I am made ! an eunuch I 
 
 Enter Manto. 
 
 Mant. Carazie, quit the room. 
 Car. Come, sir ; we'll treat of 
 Your business further. 
 
 Gaz. Excellent ! an eunuch ! \Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE V.An inner Room in tJie same. 
 
 Enter Donusa and Vitelli. 
 Vitel. Leave me, or I am lost again : no 
 
 prayers, 
 No penitence, can redeem me. 
 
 Don. Am I grown 
 Old or deform'd since yesterday ? 
 
 Vitel. You are still, 
 
 (Although the sating of your lust hath sullied 
 The immaculate whiteness of your virgin 
 
 beauties, ) 
 Too fair for me to look on : and, though 
 
 pureness, 
 The sword with which you ever fought and 
 
 conquer'd, 
 
 Is ravish'd from you by unchaste desires, 
 You are too strong for flesh and blood to 
 
 treat with, 
 Though iron grates were interpos'd between 
 
 us, 
 
 To \varrant me from treason. 
 Don. Whom do you fear? 
 Vitel. That human frailty I took from my 
 
 mother, 
 That, as my youth increased, grew stronger 
 
 on me ; 
 That still pursues me, and, though once 
 
 recover'd, 
 
 In scorn of reason, and, what's more, religion, 
 Again seeks to betray me. 
 Don. If you mean, sir, 
 
THE RENEGADO. 
 
 To my embraces, you turn rebel to 
 
 The laws of nature, the great queen and 
 
 mother 
 
 Of all productions, and deny allegiance, 
 Where you stand bound to pay it. 
 
 Vitel. I will stop 
 Mine ears against these charms, which, if 
 
 Ulysses 
 
 Could live again, and hear this second Syren, 
 Though bound with cables to his mast, his 
 
 ship too 
 
 Fasten'd with all her anchors, this enchant- 
 ment 
 
 Would force him, in despite of all resistance, 
 To leap into the sea, and follow her ; 
 Although destruction, with outstretch'd arms, 
 Stood ready to receive him. 
 
 Don. Gentle sir, 
 
 Though you deny to hear me, yet vouchsafe 
 To look upon me: though I use no language, 
 The grief for this unkind repulse will print 
 .Such a dumb eloquence upon my face, 
 As will not only plead but prevail for me. 
 Vitel. I am a coward. I will see and 
 
 hear you, 
 
 The trial, else, is nothing; nor the conquest, 
 My temperance shall crown me with here- 
 after, 
 
 Worthy to be remember'd. Up, my virtue ! 
 And holy thoughts and resolutions arm me 
 Against this fierce temptation ! give me voice 
 Tuned to a zealous anger, to express 
 At what an over-value I have purchased 
 The wanton treasure of your virgin bounties ; 
 That, in their false fruition, heap upon me 
 Despair and horror. That I could with 
 
 that ease 
 
 Redeem my forfeit innocence, or cast up 
 The poison I received into my entrails, 
 From the alluring cup of your enticements, 
 As now I do deliver back the price 
 
 \Returns the jewels. 
 
 And salary of your lust ! or thus unclothe me 
 Of sin's gay trappings, the proud livery 
 
 \Throws off his cloak and doublet. 
 Of wicked pleasure, which but worn and 
 
 heated 
 
 With the fire of entertainment and consent, 
 Like to Alcides' fatal shirt, tears off 
 Our flesh and reputation both together, 
 Leaving our ulcerous follies bare and open 
 To all malicious censure ! 
 Don. You must grant, 
 If you hold that a loss to you, mine equals, 
 If not transcends it. If you then first tasted 
 That poison, as you call it, I brought with 
 
 me 
 
 A palate unacquainted with the relish 
 Of those delights, which most, as I have heard, 
 
 Greedily swallow ; and then the offence, 
 If my opinion may be believed, 
 Is not so great : howe'er, the wrong no more, 
 Than if Hippolitus and the virgin huntress 
 Should meet and kiss together. 
 
 Vitel. What defences 
 Can lust raise to maintain a precipice 
 
 Enter Asambeg and Mustapha, above. 
 To the abyss of looseness ! but affords not 
 The least stair, or the fastening of one foot, 
 To reascend that glorious height we fell from. 
 
 Musta. By Mahomet, she courts him ! 
 
 [Donusa kneels. 
 
 Asam. Nay, kneels to him ! 
 Observe, the scornful villain turns away too, 
 As glorying in his conquest. 
 
 Don. Are you marble ? 
 If Christians have mothers, sure they share in 
 The tigress' fierceness ; for, if you were 
 
 owner 
 
 Of human pity, you could not endure 
 A princess to kneel to you, or look on 
 These falling tears which hardest rocks 
 
 would soften, 
 And yet remain unmoved. Did you but 
 
 give me 
 
 A taste of happiness in your embraces, 
 That the remembrance of the sweetness of it 
 Might leave perpetual bitterness behind it ? 
 Or shew'd me what it was to be a wife, 
 To live a widow ever? 
 
 Asam. She has confest it ! 
 Seize on him, villains. 
 
 Enter Capiaga and Aga, "with Janizaries. 
 
 O the Furies ! 
 
 {Exeunt Asambeg and Mustapha above. 
 
 Don. How! 
 Are we betray 'd ? 
 
 Vitel. The better ; I expected 
 A Turkish faith. 
 
 Don. Who am I, that you dare this? 
 'Tis I that do command you to forbear 
 A touch of violence. 
 
 Aga. We, already, madam, 
 Have satisfied your pleasure further than 
 We know to answer it. 
 
 Cap. Would we were well off ! 
 We stand too far engaged, I fear. 
 
 Don. For us? 
 
 We'll bring you safe off : who dares contra- 
 dict 
 What is our pleasure ? 
 
 Re-enter Asambeg and Mustapha, below. 
 
 Asam. Spurn the dog to prison. 
 I'll answer you anon. 
 
 Vitel. What punishment 
 
152 
 
 THE REXEGADO. 
 
 Soe'er I undergo, I am still a Christian. 
 
 [Exit Guard "with Vitelli. 
 
 Don. What bold presumption's this ? 
 
 Under what law 
 
 Am I to fall, that set my foot upon 
 Your statutes and decrees ? 
 
 Miista. The crime committed, 
 Our Alcoran calls death. 
 
 Don. Tush ! who is here, 
 That is not Amurath's slave, and so, unfit 
 To sit a judge upon his blood ? 
 
 Asam. You have lost, 
 And shamed the privilege of it ; robb'd me 
 
 too 
 
 Of my soul, my understanding, to behold 
 Your base unworthy fall from your high 
 virtue. 
 
 Don, I do appeal to Amurath. 
 
 Asam. We will offer 
 No violence to your person, till we know 
 His sacred pleasure ; till when, under guard 
 You shall continue here. 
 
 Don. Shall! 
 
 Asam. I have said it. 
 
 Don. We shall remember this. 
 
 Asam. It ill becomes 
 Such as are guilty, to deliver threats 
 Against the innocent. 
 
 {The Guard leads ^"Donusa. 
 I could tear this flesh now, 
 But 'tis in vain ; nor must I talk, but do. 
 Provide a well-mann'd galley for Constanti- 
 nople : 
 
 Such sad news never came to our great master. 
 As he directs, we must proceed, and know 
 No will but his, to whom what's ours we owe. 
 {Exeunt. 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 SCENE I. A Room in Grimaldi's House. 
 
 Enter Master and Boatswain. 
 Mast. He does begin to eat ? 
 Boatsw. A little, master ; 
 But our best hope for his recovery is, that 
 His raving leaves him ; and those dreadful 
 
 words, 
 
 Damnation and despair, with which he ever 
 Ended all his discourses, are forgotten. 
 Mast. This stranger is a most religious 
 
 man sure ; 
 
 And I am doubtful, whether his charity 
 In the relieving of our wants, or care 
 To cure the wounded conscience of Grimaldi, 
 Deserves more admiration. 
 Boatsw. Can you guess 
 What the reason should be, that we never 
 mention 
 
 The church, or the high altar, but his 
 
 melancholy 
 Grows and increases on him ? 
 
 Mast. I have heard him, 
 When he gloried to profess himself an atheist, 
 Talk often, and with much delight and 
 
 boasting, 
 
 Of a rude prank he did ere he turn'd pirate p 
 The memory of which, as it appears, 
 Lies heavy on him, 
 
 Boatsw. Pray you, let me understand it. 
 Mast. Upon a solemn day, when the 
 
 whole city 
 
 Join'd in devotion, and with barefoot steps 
 Passed to St. Mark's, the duke, and the 
 
 whole signiory, 
 
 Helping to perfect the religious pomp 
 With which they were received ; when all 
 
 men else 
 Were full of tears, and groan'd beneath the 
 
 weight 
 
 Of past offences, of whose heavy burthen 
 They came to be absolved and freed ; our 
 
 captain, 
 
 Whether in scorn of those so pious rites 
 He had no feeling of, or else drawn to it 
 Out of a wanton, irreligious madness, 
 (I know not which,) ran to the holy man, 
 As he was doing of the work of grace, 
 And snatching from his hands the sanctified 
 
 means, 
 Dash'd it upon the pavement. 
 
 Boatsw. How escaped he, 
 It being a deed deserving death with torture? 
 Mast. Thegeneral amazement of the people 
 Gave him leave to quit the temple, and a 
 
 gondola, 
 Prepared, it seems, before, brought him 
 
 aboard ; 
 
 Since which he ne'er saw Venice. The re- 
 membrance 
 
 Of this, it seems, torments him ; aggravated 
 With astrong belief he cannot receive pardon 
 For this foul fact, but from his hands, 
 
 against whom 
 It was committed. 
 
 Boatsw. And what course intends 
 His heavenly physician, reverend Francisco, 
 To beat down this opinion ? 
 
 Mast. He promised 
 
 To use some holy and religious fineness, 
 To this good end ; and, in the meantime, 
 
 charged me 
 
 To keep him dark, and to admit no visitants ; 
 But on no terms to cross him. Here he comes. 
 
 Enter Grimaldi, with a book. 
 
 Grim. For theft, he that restores treble 
 the value, 
 
THE RENEGADO. 
 
 153 
 
 Makes satisfaction ; and, for want of means 
 
 To do so, as a slave must serve it out, 
 
 Till he hath made full payment. There's 
 
 hope left here. 
 
 Oh ! with what willingness would I give up 
 My liberty to those that I have pillaged ; 
 And wish the numbers of my years, though 
 
 wasted 
 
 In the most sordid slavery, might equal 
 The rapines I have made ; till, with one voice, 
 My patient sufferings might exact, from my 
 Most cruel creditors, a full remission, 
 An eye's loss with an eye, limb's with a limb : 
 A sad account ! yet, to find peace within j 
 
 here, 
 Though all such as I have maim'd and dis- j 
 
 member'd 
 
 In drunken quarrels, or o'ercome with rage, 
 When they were given up to my power, stood 
 
 here now, 
 
 And cried for restitution ; to appease them, 
 I would do a bloody justice on myself : 
 Pull out these eyes, that guided me to ravish 
 Their sight from others ; lop these legs, that 
 
 bore me 
 
 To barbarous violence ; with this hand cut off 
 This instrument of wrong, till nought were 
 
 left me 
 But this poor bleeding limbless trunk, which 
 
 gladly 
 J would divide among them. Ha ! what 
 
 think I 
 
 Enter Francisco in a cope, like a Bishop. 
 Of petty forfeitures ! In this reverend habit, 
 All that I am turn'd into eyes, I look on 
 A deed of mine so fiend-like, that repentance, 
 Though with my tears I taught the sea new 
 
 tides, 
 
 Can never wash off : all my thefts, my rapes, 
 Are venial trespasses, compared to what 
 I offer'd to that shape, and in a place too, 
 Where I stood bound to kneel to 't. [Kneels. 
 
 Fran. 'Tis forgiven : 
 I with his tongue, whom, in these sacred 
 
 vestments, 
 
 With impure hands thou didst offend, pro- 
 nounce it. 
 
 I bring peace to thee ; see that thou deserve it 
 In thy fair life hereafter. 
 
 Grim. Can it be ! 
 Dare I believe this vision, or hope 
 A pardon e'er may find me ? 
 
 Fran. Purchase it 
 
 By zealous undertakings, and no more 
 'Twill be remembered. 
 
 Grim. What celestial balm [Rises. 
 
 I feel now pour'd into my wounded con- 
 science ! 
 
 What penance is there I'll not undergo, 
 Though ne'er so sharp and rugged, with 
 
 more pleasure 
 Than flesh and blood e'er tasted ! show me 
 
 true Sorrow, 
 
 Arm'd with an iron whip, and I will meet 
 The stripes she brings along with her, as if 
 They were the gentle touches of a hand 
 That comes to cure me. Can good deeds 
 
 redeem me? 
 
 I will rise up a wonder to the world, 
 When I have given strong proofs how I am 
 
 alter'd. 
 
 I, that have sold such as profess 'd the faith 
 That I was born in, to captivity, 
 Will make their number equal, that I shall 
 Deliver from the oar ; and win as many 
 By the clearness of my actions, to look on 
 Their misbelief, and loath it. I will be 
 A convoy for all merchants ; and thought 
 
 worthy 
 
 To be reported to the world, hereafter, 
 The child of your devotion ; nurs'd up, 
 And made strong by your charity, to break 
 
 through 
 
 All dangers hell can bring forth to oppose me. 
 Nor am I, though my fortunes were thought 
 
 desperate, 
 
 Now you have reconciled me to myself, 
 So void of worldly means, but, in despite 
 Of the proud viceroy's wrongs, I can do 
 
 something 
 To witness of my change : when you please, 
 
 try me, 
 
 And I will perfect what you shall enjoin me,, 
 Or fall a joyful martyr. 
 Fran. You will reap 
 The comfort of it ; live yet undiscover'd, 
 And with your holy meditations strengthen. 
 Your Christian resolution : ere long, 
 You shall hear further from me. [Exit. 
 
 Grim. I'll attend 
 All your commands with patience ; come,.. 
 
 my mates, 
 
 I hitherto have lived an ill example, 
 And, as your captain, led you on to mischief; 
 But now will truly labour, that good men 
 May say hereafter of me, to my glory, 
 (Let but my power and means hand with my 
 
 will,) 
 
 His good endeavours did weigh down his ill. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 Re-enter Francisco, in his usual habit. 
 
 Fran. This penitence is not counterfeit : 
 
 howsoever, 
 
 Good actions are in themselves rewarded. 
 My travail's to meet with a double crown. 
 
THE REXEGADO. 
 
 If that Vitelli come off safe, and prove 
 Himself the master of his wild affections 
 
 Enter Gazet. 
 O, I shall have intelligence ; how now, 
 
 Gazet, 
 Why these sad looks and tears ? 
 
 Gaz. Tears, sir ! I have lost 
 My worthy master. Your rich heir seems 
 
 to mourn for 
 
 A miserable father, your young widow, 
 Following a bedrid husband to his grave, 
 Would have her neighbours think she cries 
 
 and roars, 
 That she must part with such a goodman 
 
 Do-nothing ; 
 When 'tis, because he stays so long above 
 
 ground, 
 And hinders a rich suitor. All's come out, 
 
 sir. 
 We are smok'd for being coney-catchers : 
 
 my master 
 
 Is put in prison ; his she-customer 
 Is under guard too ; these are things to weep 
 
 for : 
 But mine own loss consider 'd, and what a 
 
 fortune 
 I have had, as they say, snatch'd out of my 
 
 chops, 
 
 Would make a man run mad. 
 Fran. I scarce have leisure, 
 I am so wholly taken up with sorrow 
 For my loved pupil, to enquire thy fate ; 
 Yet I will hear it. 
 
 Gaz. Why, sir, I had bought a place, 
 A place of credit too, an I had gone through 
 
 with it ; 
 I should have been made an eunuch : there 
 
 was honour 
 For a late poor prentice ! when, upon the 
 
 sudden, 
 
 There was such a hurly-burly in the court, 
 That I was glad to run away, and carry 
 The price of my office with me. 
 
 Fran. Is that all? 
 You have made a saving voyage : we must 
 
 think now, 
 
 Though not to free, to comfort sad Vitelli ; 
 My grieved soul suffers for him. 
 Gaz. I am sad too ; 
 
 But had I been an eunuch 
 
 Fran. Think not on it. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE II. A Hall in Assaabegs Palace. 
 Enter As&mbeg ; he unlocks a door, and 
 
 Paulina comes forth. 
 
 Asam. Be your own guard : obsequious- 
 ness and service 
 Shall win you to be mine. Of all restraint 
 
 For ever take your leave, no threats shall 
 
 awe you, 
 No jealous doubts of mine disturb your 
 
 freedom, 
 No fee'd spies wait upon your steps : your 
 
 virtue, 
 
 And due consideration in yourself 
 Of what is noble, are the faithful helps 
 I leave you, as supporters, to defend you 
 From falling basely. 
 
 Paul. This is wondrous strange : 
 Whence flows this alteration ? 
 
 Asam. From true judgment ; 
 And strong assurance, neither grates of iron, 
 Hemm'd in with walls of brass, strict guards, 
 
 high birth, 
 The forfeiture of honour, nor the fear 
 Of infamy or punishment, can stay 
 A woman slaved to appetite, from being 
 False, and unworthy. 
 
 Paul. You are grown satirical 
 Against our sex. Why, sir, I durst produce 
 Myself in our defence, and from you chal- 
 lenge 
 
 A testimony that's not to be denied, 
 All fall not under this unequal censure. 
 I, that have stood your flatteries, your 
 
 threats, 
 Borne up against your fierce temptations ; 
 
 scorn 'd 
 The cruel means you practised to supplant 
 
 me, 
 
 Having no arms to help me to hold out, 
 But love of piety, and constant goodness ; 
 If you are unconfirm'd, dare again boldly, 
 Enter into the lists, and combat with 
 All opposites man's malice can bring forth 
 To shake me in my chastity, built upon 
 The rock of my religion. 
 
 Asam. I do wish 
 I could believe you ; but, when I shall shew 
 
 you 
 
 A most incredible example of 
 Your frailty, in a princess, sued and 
 
 sought to 
 By men of worth, of rank, of eminence ; 
 
 courted 
 
 By happiness itself, and her cold temper 
 Approved by many years ; yet she to fall, 
 Fall from herself, her glories', nay, her safety, 
 Into a gulf of shame and black despair ; ' 
 I think you'll doubt yourself, or, in beholding 
 Her punishment, for ever be deterr'd 
 From yielding basely. 
 
 Paul. I would see this wonder ; 
 Tis, sir, my first petition. 
 
 Asam. And thus granted : 
 Above, you shall observe all. 
 
 \Exil Paulina. 
 
THE RENEGADO. 
 
 155 
 
 Enter Mustapha. 
 Musta. Sir, I sought you, 
 And must relate a wonder. Since I studied, 
 And knew what man was, I was never 
 
 witness 
 
 Of such invincible fortitude as this Christian 
 Shews in his sufferings : all the torments that 
 We could present him with, to fright his 
 
 constancy, 
 Confirm 'd, not shook it ; and those heavy 
 
 chains, 
 
 That eat into his flesh, appear 'd to him 
 Like bracelets made of some loved mistress' 
 
 hairs, 
 
 We kiss in the remembrance of her favours. 
 I am strangely taken with it, and have lost 
 Much of my fury. 
 
 Asam. Had he suffer'd poorly, 
 It had call'd on my contempt ; but manly 
 
 patience, 
 
 And all-commanding virtue, wins upon 
 An enemy. I shall think upon him. Ha ! 
 
 Enter Aga, with a black box. 
 So soon return'd! This speed pleads in 
 
 excuse 
 
 Of your late fault, which I no more remember. 
 What's the grand signior's pleasure ? 
 
 Aga. 'Tis enclosed here. 
 The box too that contains it may inform you 
 How he stands affected : I am trusted with 
 Nothing but this, On forfeit of your head, 
 She must have a speedy trial. 
 
 Asam. Bring her in 
 In black, as to her funeral : {Exit Aga^] 'tis 
 
 the colour 
 Her fault wills her to wear, and which, in 
 
 justice, 
 
 I dare not pity. Sit, and take your place : 
 However in her life she has degenerated, 
 May she die nobly, and in that confirm 
 Her greatness and high blood ! 
 
 Solemn music. Re-enter the Aga, with the 
 Capiaga leading in Donusa in black, her 
 train borne up by Carazie and Manto. A 
 Guard attending. Paulina enters above. 
 
 Musta. I now could melt 
 But soft compassion leave me. 
 
 Mant. I am affrighted 
 With this dismal preparation. Should the 
 
 enjoying 
 
 Of loose desires find ever such conclusions, 
 All women would be Vestals. 
 
 Don. That you clothe me 
 In this sad livery of death, assures me 
 Your sentence is gone out before, and I 
 Too late am call'd for, in my guilty cause 
 To use qualification or excuse 
 
 Yet must I not part so with mine own 
 
 strengths, 
 
 But borrow, from my modesty, boldness, to 
 Enquire by whose authority you sit 
 My judges, and whose warrant digs my grave 
 In the frowns you dart against my life ? 
 
 Asam. See here, 
 
 This fatal sign and warrant ! This, brought to 
 A general, fighting in the head of his 
 Victorious troops, ravishes from his hand 
 His even then conquering sword ; this, 
 
 shewn unto 
 
 The sultan's brothers, or his sons, delivers 
 His deadly anger ; and, all hopes laid by, 
 Commands them to prepare themselves for 
 
 heaven ; 
 
 Which would stand with the quiet of your soul, 
 To think upon, and imitate. 
 
 Don. Give me leave 
 A little to complain ; first, of the hard 
 Condition of my fortune, which may move 
 
 you, 
 
 Though not to rise up intercessors for me, 
 Yet, in remembrance of my former life, 
 (This being the first spot tainting mine 
 
 honour, ) 
 
 To be the means to bring me to his presence : 
 And then I doubt not, but I could allege 
 Such reasons in mine own defence, or plead 
 So humbly, (my tears helping, ) that it should 
 Awake his sleeping pity. 
 
 Asam. 'Tis in vain. 
 If you have aught to say, you shall have 
 
 hearing ; 
 And, in me, think him present. 
 
 Don. I would thus then 
 First kneel, and kiss his feet ; and after, tell 
 
 him 
 How long I had been his darling ; what 
 
 delight 
 
 My infant years afforded him ; how dear 
 He prized his sister in both bloods, my mother : 
 That she, like him, had frailty, that to me 
 Descends as an inheritance ; then conjure 
 
 him, 
 
 By her blest ashes, and his father's soul, 
 The sword that rides upon his thigh, his 
 
 right hand 
 
 Holding the sceptre and the Othoman for- 
 tune, 
 To have compassion on me. 
 
 Asam. But suppose 
 
 (As I am sure) he would be deaf, what then 
 Could you infer? 
 
 Don. I, then, would thus rise up, 
 And to his teeth tell him he was a tyrant, 
 A most voluptuous and insatiable epicure 
 In his own pleasures ; which he hugs so 
 
 dearly, 
 
155 
 
 THE RENEGADO. 
 
 As proper and peculiar to himself, 
 That he denies a moderate lawful use 
 Of all delight to others. And to thee, 
 Unequal judge, I speak as much, and 
 
 charge thee, 
 
 But with impartial eyes to look into 
 Thyself, and then consider with what justice 
 Thou canst pronounce my sentence. Un- 
 kind nature, 
 To make weak women servants, proud men 
 
 masters ! 
 
 Indulgent Mahomet, do thy bloody laws 
 Call my embraces with a Christian death, 
 Having my heat and May of youth, to plead 
 In my excuse? and yet want power to punish 
 These that, with scorn, break through thy 
 
 cobweb edicts, 
 And laugh at thy decrees ? To tame their 
 
 lusts 
 
 There's no religious bit : let her be fair, 
 And pleasing to the eye, though Persian, 
 
 Moor, 
 
 Idolatress, Turk, or Christian, you are privi- 
 leged, 
 
 And freely may enjoy her. At this instant, 
 I know, unjust man, thou hast in thy power 
 A lovely Christian virgin ; thy offence 
 Equal, if not transcending mine : why, then, 
 (We being both guilty, ) dost thou not descend 
 From that usurp'd tribunal, and with me 
 Walk hand in hand to death ? 
 Asam. She raves ; and we 
 Lose time to hear her : Read the law. 
 
 Don. Do, do ; 
 I stand resolved to suffer. 
 
 Ago., [reads.] If any virgin, of what 
 degree, or quality soever, born a natural 
 Turk, shall be convicted of corporal loose- 
 ness, and incontinence with, any Christian, 
 she is, by the decree of our great prophet, 
 Mahomet, to lose her head. 
 
 Asam. Mark that, then tax our justice ! 
 Aga. Ever provided. That if she, the said 
 offender, by any reasons, arguments, or per- 
 suasion, can win and prevail with the said 
 Christian offending with her, to alter his 
 religion, and marry her, that then the win- 
 ning' of a soul to the Mahometan sect, shall 
 acquit her from all shame, disgrace, and 
 Punishment whatsoever. 
 Don. I lay hold on that clause, and chal- 
 lenge from you 
 The privilege of the law. 
 Musta. What will you do ? 
 Don. Grant me access and means, I'll 
 
 undertake 
 
 To turn this Christian Turk, and marry him : 
 This trial you cannot deny. 
 Musta. Obase! 
 
 Can fear to die make you descend so low 
 From your high birth, and brand the Otho- 
 
 man line 
 With such a mark of infamy? 
 
 Asam. This is worse 
 Than the parting with your honour. Better 
 
 suffer 
 Ten thousand deaths, and without hope to 
 
 have 
 
 A place in our great prophet's paradise, 
 Than have an act to aftertimes remember'd, 
 So foul as this is. 
 
 Musta. Cheer your spirits, madam ; 
 To die is nothing, 'tis but parting with 
 A mountain of vexations. 
 
 Asam. Think of your honour : 
 In dying nobly, you make satisfaction 
 For your offence, and you shall live a story 
 Of bold heroic courage. 
 
 Don. You shall not fool me 
 Out of my life : I claim the law, and sue for 
 A speedy trial ; if I fail, you may 
 Determine of me as you please. 
 
 Asam. Base woman ! 
 But use thy ways, and see thou prosper in 
 
 them ; 
 
 For, if thou fall again into my power, 
 Thou shalt in vain, after a thousand tortures, 
 Cry out for death, that death which now 
 
 thou fliest from. 
 Unloose the prisoner's chains. Go, lead 
 
 her on, 
 
 To try the magic of her tongue. I follow : 
 
 [Exeunt all but Asambeg. 
 
 I'm on the rack descend, my best Paulina. 
 
 [Exit with Paulina. 
 
 SCENE III. A Room in the Prison. 
 Enter Francisco and Gaoler. 
 
 Fran. I come not empty-handed ; I will 
 
 purchase 
 
 Your favour at what rate you please. There's 
 gold. 
 
 Gaol. 'Tis the best oratory. I will hazard 
 A check for your content. Below, there ! 
 
 Vitel. [below.} Welcome ! 
 Art thou the happy messenger, that brings 
 
 me 
 News of my death ? 
 
 Gaol. Your hand. [Plucks up Vitelli, 
 
 Fran. Now, if you please, 
 A little privacy. 
 
 Gaol. You have bought it, sir ; 
 Enjoy it freely. [Exit. 
 
 Fran. O, my dearest pupil ! 
 Witness these tears of joy, I never saw you, 
 Till now, look lovely ; nor durst I ever glory 
 In the mind of any man I had built up 
 
THE RENEGADO. 
 
 IS7 
 
 With the hands of virtuous and religious 
 
 precepts, 
 Till this glad minute. Now you have made 
 
 good 
 
 My expectation of you. By my order, 
 All Roman Caesars, that led kings in chains, 
 Fast bound to their triumphant chariots, if 
 Compared with that true glory and full lustre 
 You now appear in ; all their boasted 
 
 honours, 
 Purchased with blood and wrong, would 
 
 lose their names, 
 And be no more remember'd ! 
 
 Vitel. This applause, 
 
 Confirm'd in your allowance, joys me more 
 Than if a thousand full-cramm'd theatres 
 Should clap their eager hands, to witness that 
 The scene I act did please, and they ad- 
 mire it. 
 
 But these are, father, but beginnings, not 
 The ends, of my high aims. I grant, to 
 
 have master'd 
 
 The rebel appetite cf flesh and blood, 
 Was far above my strength ; and still owe 
 
 for it 
 
 To that great Power that lent it : but, when I 
 Shall make't apparent the grim looks of Death 
 Affright me not, and that I can put off 
 The fond desire of life, (that, like a garment, 
 Covers and clothes our frailty, ) hastening to 
 My martyrdom, as to a heavenly banquet, 
 To which I was a choice invited guest ; 
 Then you may boldly say, you did not plough, 
 Or trust the barren and ungrateful sands 
 With the fruitful grain of your religious 
 
 counsels. 
 Fran. You do instruct your teacher. Let 
 
 the sun 
 Of your clear life, that lends to good men 
 
 light, 
 
 But set as gloriously as it did rise, 
 (Though sometimes clouded,) you may write 
 
 nil ultra 
 To human wishes. 
 
 Vitel. I have almost gain'd 
 The end o' the race, and will not faint or 
 
 tire now. 
 
 He-enter Gaoler with Aga. 
 
 Aga. Sir, by your leave, nay, stay not, 
 
 \to the Gaoler, -who goes out.'] I bring 
 
 comfort. 
 
 The viceroy, taken with the constant bearing 
 Of your afflictions ; and presuming too 
 You will not change your temper, does 
 
 command 
 Your irons should be ta'en off. [They take 
 
 off his irons.] Now arm yourself 
 With your old resolution ; suddenly 
 
 You shall be visited. You must leave the 
 
 room too, 
 And do it without reply. 
 
 Fran. There's no contending : 
 Be still thyself, my son. 
 
 {Exeunt Aga and Francisco. 
 Vitel. 'Tis not in man 
 
 Enter Donusa, followed at a distance by 
 Asambeg, Mustapha, and Paulina. 
 
 To change or alter me. 
 
 Paul. Whom do I look on? 
 
 My brother ? 'tis he ! but no more, my 
 tongue ; 
 
 Thou wilt betray all. [Aside. 
 
 Asam. Let us hear this temptress : 
 
 The fellow looks as he would stop his ears 
 
 Against her powerful spells. 
 
 Paul. He is undone else. [Aside. 
 
 Vitel. I'll stand the encounter charge 
 
 me home. 
 Don. I come, sir, [Bows herself. 
 
 A beggar to you, and doubt not to find 
 
 A good man's charity, which if you deny, 
 
 You are cruel to yourself; a crime a wise man 
 
 (And such I hold you) would not willingly 
 
 Be guilty of : nor let it find less welcome, 
 
 Though I, a creature you contemn, now 
 shew you 
 
 The way to certain happiness ; nor think it 
 
 Imaginary or fantastical, 
 
 And so not worth the acquiring, in respect 
 
 The passage to it is nor rough nor thorny ; 
 
 No steep hills in the way which you must 
 climb up, 
 
 No monsters to be conquer'd, no enchant- 
 ments 
 
 To be dissolved by counter charms, before 
 
 You take possession of it. 
 Vitel. What strong poison 
 
 Is wrapp'd up in these sugar'd pills ? 
 Don. My suit is, 
 
 That you would quit your shoulders of a 
 burthen, 
 
 Under whose ponderous weight you wilfully 
 
 Have too long groan'd, to cast those fetters 
 off, 
 
 With which, with your own hands, you 
 chain your freedom : 
 
 Forsake a severe, nay, imperious mistress, 
 
 Whose service does exact perpetual cares, 
 
 Watchings, and troubles ; and give enter- 
 tainment 
 
 To one that courts you, whose least favours 
 are 
 
 Variety, and choice of all delights 
 
 Mankind is capable of. 
 
 Vitel. You speak in riddles. 
 
158 
 
 THE RENEGADO. 
 
 What burthen, or what mistress, or what 
 
 fetters, 
 Are those you point at ? 
 
 Don. Those which your religion, 
 The mistress you too long have served, com- 
 pels you 
 To bear with slave-like patience. 
 Vitel. Ha! 
 Paul. How bravely 
 That virtuous anger shews ? 
 Don. Be wise, and weigh 
 The prosperous success of things ; if bless- 
 ings 
 Are donatives from heaven, (which, you 
 
 must grant, 
 Were blasphemy to question, ) and that 
 They are call'd down and pour'd on such as 
 
 are 
 Most gracious with the great Disposer of 
 
 them, 
 Look on our flourishing empire, if the 
 
 splendor, 
 
 The majesty, and glory of it dim not 
 Your feeble sight ; and then turn back, and 
 
 see 
 The narrow bounds of yours, yet that poor 
 
 remnant 
 
 Rent in as many factions and opinions 
 As you have petty kingdoms ; and then, if 
 You are not obstinate against truth and 
 
 reason, 
 
 You must confess the Deity you worship 
 Wants care or power to help you. 
 
 Pa:il. Hold out now, 
 
 And then thou art victorious. [Aside. 
 
 Asam. How he eyes her ! 
 Musta. As if he would look through her. 
 Asam. His eyes flame too, 
 As threatening violence. 
 
 Vitel. But that I know 
 The devil, thy tutor, fills each part about thee, 
 And that I cannot play the exorcist 
 To dispossess thee, unless I should tear 
 Thy body limb by limb, and throw it to 
 The Furies, that expect it ; I would now 
 Pluck out that wicked tongue, that hath 
 
 blasphemed 
 
 The great Omnipotency, at whose nod 
 The fabric of the world shakes. Dare you 
 
 bring 
 
 Your juggling prophet in comparison with 
 That most inscrutable and infinite Essence, 
 That made this All, and comprehends his 
 
 work ! 
 
 The place is too profane to mention him 
 Whose only name is sacred. O Donusa ! 
 How much, in my compassion, I suffer, 
 That thou, on whom this most excelling 
 form, 
 
 And faculties of discourse, beyond a woman. 
 Were by his liberal gift conferr'd, shouldst 
 
 still 
 
 Remain in ignorance of him that gave it ! 
 I will not foul my mouth to speak the sorceries 
 Of your seducer, his base birth, his whore- 
 doms, 
 
 His strange impostures ; nor deliver how 
 He taught a pigeon to feed in his ear, 
 Then made his credulous followers believe 
 It was an angel, that instructed him 
 In the framing of his Alcoran pray you, 
 
 mark me. 
 Asam. These words are death, were he in 
 
 nought else guilty. 
 Vitel. Your intent to win me . 
 To be of your belief, proceeded from 
 Your fear to die. Can there be strength in 
 
 that 
 
 Religion, that suffers us to tremble 
 At that which every day, nay hour, we 
 
 haste to? 
 Don. This is unanswerable, and there's 
 
 something tells me 
 I err in my opinion. 
 Vitel. Cherish it, 
 
 It is a heavenly prompter ; entertain 
 This holy motion, and wear on your forehead 
 The sacred badge he arms his servants with ; 
 You shall, like me, with scorn look down 
 
 upon 
 
 All engines tyranny can advance to batter 
 Your constant resolution. Then you shall 
 Look truly fair, when your mind's pureness 
 
 answers 
 Your outward beauties. 
 
 Don. I came here to take you, 
 But I perceive a yielding in myself 
 To be your prisoner. 
 
 Vitel. 'Tis an overthrow, 
 That will outshine all victories. O Donusa, 
 Die in my faith, like me ; and 'tis a marriage 
 At which celestial angels shall be waiters, 
 And such as have been sainted welcome us :. 
 Are you confirm 'd ? 
 
 Don. I would be ; but the means 
 That may assure me ? 
 
 Vitel. Heaven is merciful, 
 And will not suffer you to want a man 
 To do that sacred office, build upon it. 
 Don. Then thus I spit at Mahomet. 
 Asam. \coming forward.} Stophermouth: 
 In death to turn apostata ! I'll not hear 
 One syllable from any. Wretched creature ! 
 With the next rising sun prepare to die. 
 Yet, Christian, in reward of thy brave courage, 
 Be thy faith right or wrong, receive this 
 
 favour ; 
 In person I'll attend thee to thy death : 
 
THE RENEGADO. 
 
 159- 
 
 And boldly challenge all that I can give, 
 But what's not in my grant, which is to 
 live. [Exeunt. 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 SCENE I. A Room in the Prison. 
 Enter Vitelli and Francisco. 
 
 Fran. You are wondrous brave and jo- 
 cund. 
 
 Vitel. Welcome, father. 
 Should I spare cost, or not wear cheerful 
 
 looks 
 
 Upon my wedding day, it were ominous, 
 And shew'd 1 did repent it ; which I dare 
 
 not, 
 
 It being a marriage, howsoever sad 
 In the first ceremonies that confirm it, 
 That will for ever arm me against fears, 
 Repentance, doubts, or jealousies, and bring 
 Perpetual comforts, peace of mind, and quiet 
 To the glad couple. 
 
 Fran. I well understand you ; 
 And my full joy to see you so resolved 
 Weak words cannot express. What is the 
 
 hour 
 Design'd for this solemnity? 
 
 Vitel. The sixth: 
 
 Something before the setting of the sun, 
 We take our last leave of his fading light, 
 And with our soul's eyes seek for beams 
 
 eternal. 
 
 Yet there's one scruple with which I am much 
 Perplex'd and troubled, which I knowyou can 
 Resolve me of. 
 Fran. Whatis't? 
 Vitel. This, sir ; my bride, 
 Whom I first courted, and then won, not with 
 Loose lays, poor flatteries, apish compliments, 
 But sacred and religious zeal, yet wants 
 The holy badge that should proclaim her fit 
 For these celestial nuptials : willing she is, 
 I know, to wear it, as the choicest jewel, 
 On her fair forehead ; but to you, that well 
 Could do that work of grace, I know the 
 
 viceroy 
 
 Will never grant access. Now, in a case 
 Of this necessity, I would gladly learn, 
 Whether, in me, a layman, without orders, 
 It may not be religious and lawful, 
 As we go to our deaths, to do that office? 
 Fran. A question in itself with much 
 
 ease answer'd : 
 
 Midwives, upon necessity, perform it ; 
 And knights that, in the Holy Land, fought 
 
 tor 
 The freedom of Jerusalem, when full 
 
 Of sweat and enemies' blood, have made 
 
 their helmets 
 
 The fount, out of which, with theirholy hands. 
 They drew that heavenly liquor ; 'twas ap- 
 proved then 
 
 By the holy church, nor must I think it now,. 
 In you, a work less pious. 
 
 Vitel. You confirm me ; 
 I will find a way to do it. In the mean time,. 
 Your holy vows assist me ! 
 
 Fran. They shall ever 
 Be present with you. 
 
 Vitel. You shall see me act 
 This last scene to the life. 
 
 Fran. And though now fall, 
 Rise a bless'd martyr. 
 
 Vitel. That's my end, my all. \Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE II. A Street. 
 Enter Grimaldi, Master, Boatswain, and 
 
 Sailors. 
 
 Boatsw. Sir, if you slip this opportunity, 
 Never expect the like. 
 
 Mast. With as much ease now 
 We may steal the ship out of the harbour, 
 
 captain, 
 
 As ever gallants, in a wanton bravery, 
 Have set upon a drunken constable, 
 And bore him from a sleepy rug-gown'd 
 
 watch : 
 Be therefore wise. 
 
 Grim. I must be honest too. 
 And you shall wear that shape, you shall 
 
 observe me, 
 
 If that you purpose to continue mine. 
 Think you ingratitude can be the parent 
 To our unfeign'd repentance ? Do I owe 
 A peace within here, kingdoms could not 
 
 purchase, 
 
 To my religious creditor, to leave him 
 Open to danger, the great benefit 
 Never remembered ! no ; though in her 
 
 bottom 
 
 We could stow up the tribute of the Turk ; 
 Nay, grant the passage safe too ; I will never 
 Consent to weigh an anchor up, till he, 
 That only must, commands it. 
 
 Boatsw. This religion 
 Will keep us slaves and beggars. 
 
 Mast. The fiend prompts me 
 To change my copy : plague upon't ! we 
 
 are seamen ; 
 What have we to do with't, but for a snatch 
 
 or so, 
 At the end of a long Lent ? 
 
 Enter Francisco. 
 Boatsw. Mum : see who is here. 
 Grim. My father ! 
 
THE RENEGADO. 
 
 Fran. My good convert. I am full 
 Of serious business which denies me leave 
 To hold long conference with you : only 
 
 thus much 
 
 Briefly receive ; a day or two, at the most, 
 Shall make me fit to take my leave of Tunis, 
 Or give me lost for ever. 
 
 Grim. Days nor years, 
 Provided that my stay may do you service, 
 But to me shall be minutes. 
 
 Fran. I much thank you : 
 In this small scroll you may in private read 
 'What my intents are ; and, as they grow ripe, 
 I will instruct you further : in the mean time 
 Borrow your late distracted looks and gesture ; 
 The more dejected you appear, the less 
 The viceroy must suspect you. 
 ' Grim. I am nothing, 
 But what you please to have me be. 
 
 Fran. Farewell, sir. 
 
 Be cheerful, master, something we will do, 
 That shall reward itself in the performance ; 
 And that's true prize indeed. 
 
 Mast. I am obedient. 
 
 Boatsiu. And I : there's no contending. 
 
 {Exeunt Grim. Mast. Boatsw. and 
 Sailors. 
 
 Fran. Peace to you all ! 
 Prosper, thou Great Existence, my en- 
 deavours, 
 As they religiously are undertaken, 
 And distant equally from servile gain, 
 
 Enter Paulina, Carazie, and Manto. 
 
 Or glorious ostentation ! I am heard, 
 In this blest opportunity, which in vain 
 I long have waited for. I must show myself. 
 O, she has found me ! now if she prove right, 
 All hope will not forsake us. 
 
 Paul. Further off; 
 
 And in that distance know your duties too. 
 You were bestow'd on me as slaves to serve me, 
 And not as spies to pry into my actions, 
 And after, to betray me. You shall find 
 If any look of mine be unobserved, 
 I am not ignorant of a mistress' power, 
 And from whom I receive it. 
 
 Car. Note this, Manto, 
 The pride and scorn with which she enter- 
 tains us, 
 
 Now we are made hers by the viceroy's gift ! 
 Our sweet condition'd princess, lair Donusa, 
 Rest in her death wait on her ? never used us 
 With such contempt. I would he had sent me 
 To the gallies, or the gallows, when he 
 
 gave me 
 To this proud little devil. 
 
 Mniit. I expect 
 All tyrannous usage, but I must be patient ; 
 
 And though, ten times a day, she tears these 
 
 locks, 
 Or makes this face her footstool, 'tis but 
 
 justice. 
 Paul. 'Tis a true story of my fortunes, 
 
 father. 
 
 My chastity preserved by miracle, 
 Or your devotions for me ; and, believe it, 
 What outward pride soe'er I counterfeit, 
 Or state, to these appointed to attend me, 
 I am not in my disposition alter'd, 
 But still your humble daughter, and share 
 
 with you 
 In my poor brother's sufferings : all hell's 
 
 torments 
 
 Revenge it on accurs'd Grimaldi's soul, 
 That, in his rape of me, gave a beginning 
 To all the miseries that since have follow'd I 
 Fran. Be charitable, and forgive him, 
 
 gentle daughter. 
 He's a changed man, and may redeem his 
 
 fault 
 
 In his fair life hereafter. You must bear too 
 Your forced captivity, for 'tis no better, 
 Though you wear golden fetters, and of him, 
 Whom death affrights not, learn to hold 
 
 out nobly. 
 
 Paul. You are still the same good coun- 
 sellor. 
 
 Fran. And who knows, 
 (Since what above is purposed, is inscru- 
 table,) 
 
 But that the viceroys's extreme dotage on you 
 May be the parent of a happier birth 
 Than yet our hopes dare fashion. Longer 
 
 conference 
 
 May prove unsafe for you and me ; however 
 
 (Perhaps for trial) he allows you freedom. 
 
 [Delivers a paper. 
 
 From this learn therefore what you must 
 
 attempt, 
 Though with the hazard of yourself : heaven 
 
 guard you, 
 
 And give Vitelli patience ! then I doubt not 
 But he will have a glorious uay, since some 
 Hold truly, such as suffer, overcome. 
 
 \Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE III. A HallinAsxmbzgs Palace. 
 Enter Asambeg, Mustapha, Aga, and 
 
 Capiaga. 
 
 Asam. What we commanded, see per- 
 form 'd ; and fail not 
 In all things to be punctual. 
 Aga. We shall, sir. 
 
 [Exeunt Aga and Capiaga. 
 Musta. Tis strange, that you should use 
 
 such circumstance 
 To a delinquent of so mean condition. 
 
THE RENEGADO. 
 
 Asam. Had he appeared in a more sordid 
 
 shape 
 Than disguised greatness ever deign'd to 
 
 mask in, 
 
 The gallant bearing of his present fortune 
 Aloud proclaims him noble. 
 Musta. If you doubt him 
 To be a man built up for great employments, 
 And, as a cunning spy, sent to explore 
 The city's strength or weakness, you by 
 
 torture 
 May force him to discover it. 
 
 Asam. That were base ; 
 Nor dare I do such injury to virtue 
 And bold assured courage ; neither can I 
 Be won to think, but if I should attempt it, 
 I shoot against the moon. He that hath 
 
 stood 
 
 The roughest battery, that captivity 
 Could ever bring to shake a constant temper ; 
 Despised the fawnings of a future greatness, 
 By beauty, in her full perfection, tender'd ; 
 That hears of death as of a quiet slumber, 
 And from the surplusage of his own firmness, 
 Can spare enough of fortitude, to assure 
 A feeble woman ; will not, Mustapha, 
 Be alter'd in his soul for any torments 
 We can afflict his body with. 
 Musta. Do your pleasure : 
 I only offer'd you a friend's advice, 
 But without gall or envy to the man 
 That is to suffer. But what do you determine 
 Of poor Grimaldi? the disgrace call'd on him, 
 I hear, has run him mad. 
 
 Asam. There weigh the difference 
 In the true temper of their minds. The one, 
 A pirate, sold to mischiefs, rapes, and all 
 That make a slave relentless and obdurate, 
 Yet, of himself wanting the inward strengths 
 That should defend him, sinks beneath 
 
 compassion 
 
 Or pity of a man : whereas this merchant, 
 Acquainted only with a civil life ; 
 Arm'd in himself, intrench'd and fortified 
 With his own virtue, valuing life and death 
 At the same price, poorly does not invite 
 A favour, but commands us to do him right ; 
 Which unto him, and her we both once 
 
 honour'd 
 
 As a just debt, I gladly pay ; they enter. 
 Now sit we equal hearers. 
 
 A dreadful music. Enter at one door, the 
 Aga, Janizaries, Vitelli, Francisco, and 
 Gazet ; at the other, Donusa, (her train 
 borne -up], Paulina, Carazie, and Manto. 
 
 Musta. I shall hear 
 
 And see, sir, without passion ; my wrongs 
 arm me. 
 
 Vitel. A joyful preparation ! To whose 
 
 bounty 
 Owe we our thanks for gracing thus our 
 
 hymen ? 
 The notes, though dreadful to the ear, sound 
 
 here 
 
 As our epithalamium were sung 
 By a celestial choir, and a full chorus 
 Assured us future happiness. These that 
 
 lead me 
 
 Gaze not with wanton eyes upon my bride, 
 Nor for their service are repaid by me 
 With jealousies or fears ; nor do they envjr 
 My passage to those pleasures from which 
 
 death 
 
 Cannot deter me. Great sir, pardon me :- 
 Imagination of the joys I haste to 
 Made me forget my duty ; but the form 
 And ceremony past, I will attend you, 
 And with our constant resolution feast you ;: 
 Not with coarse cates, forgot as soon as 
 
 tasted, 
 
 But such as shall, while you have memory, 
 Be pleasing to the palate. 
 
 Fran. Be not lost 
 In what you purpose. \_Exit. 
 
 Gaz. Call you this a marriage ! 
 It differs little from hanging ; I cry at it. 
 Vitel. See, where my bride appears ! in 
 
 what full lustre ! 
 
 As if the virgins that bear up her train 
 Had long contended to receive an honour 
 Above their births, in doing her this service* 
 Nor comes she fearful to meet those delights, 
 Which, once past o'er, immortal pleasures 
 
 follow. 
 
 I need not, therefore, comfort or encourage 
 Her forward steps ; and I should offer wrong 
 To her mind's fortitude, should I but ask 
 How she can brook the rough high-going 
 
 sea, 
 
 Over whose foamy back our ship, well rigg'd 
 With hope and strong assurance, must 
 
 transport us. 
 
 Nor will I tell her, when we reach the haven, 
 Which tempests shall not hinder, what loud 
 
 welcome 
 
 Shall entertain us ; nor commend the place, 
 To tell whose least perfection would strike 
 
 dumb 
 
 The eloquence of all boasted in story, 
 Though join'd together. 
 
 Don. 'Tis enough, my dearest, 
 I dare not doubt you ; as your humble 
 
 shadow, 
 Lead where you please, I follow. 
 
 Vitel. One suit, sir, 
 And willingly I cease to be a beggar ; 
 And that you may with more security hear it, 
 
162 
 
 THE RENEGADO. 
 
 Know, 'tis not life I'll ask, nor to defer . 
 Our deaths, but a few minutes. 
 
 Asam. Speak ; 'tis granted. 
 
 Vitel. We being now to take our latest 
 
 leave, 
 
 And grown of one belief, I do desire 
 I may have your allowance to perform it, 
 But in the fashion which we Christians use 
 Upon the like occasions. 
 
 Asam. 'Tis allow'd of. 
 
 Vitel. My service : haste, Gazet, to the 
 
 next spring, 
 And bring me of it. 
 
 Gaz. Would I could as well 
 Fetch you a pardon ; I would not run but fly, 
 And be here in a moment. [Exit. 
 
 Musta. What's the mystery 
 Of this ? discover it. 
 
 Vitel. Great sir, I'll tell you. 
 Each country hath its own peculiar rites : 
 Some, when they are to die, drink store of 
 
 wine, 
 
 Which, pour'd in liberally, does oft beget 
 A bastard valour, with which arm'd, they bear 
 The not-to-be declined charge of death 
 With less fear and astonishment : others take 
 Drugs to procure a heavy sleep, that so 
 They may insensibly receive the means 
 That casts them in an everlasting slumber ; 
 Others 
 
 Re-enter Gazet, with water, 
 
 O welcome ! 
 
 Asam. Now the use of yours ? 
 Vitel. The clearness of this is a perfect sign 
 Of innocence : and as this washes off 
 Stains and pollutions from the things we 
 
 wear; 
 Thrown thus upon the forehead, it hath 
 
 power 
 
 To purge those spots that cleave upon the 
 mind, [Sprinkles it on her face. 
 
 If thankfully received. 
 Asam. 'Tis a strange custom. 
 Vitel. How do you entertain it, my 
 
 Donusa? 
 
 Feel you no alteration, no new motives, 
 No unexpected aids, that may confirm you 
 In that to which you were inclined before ? 
 Don. I am another woman; till this 
 
 minute 
 
 I never lived, nor durst think how to die. 
 How long have I been blind ! yet on the 
 
 sudden, 
 
 By this blest means, I feel the films of error 
 I Ta'en from my soul's eyes. O divine phy- 
 sician ! 
 
 That hast bestow'd a sight on me, which 
 Death, 
 
 Though ready to embrace me in his arms, 
 Cannot take from me : let me kiss the hand 
 That did this miracle, and seal my thanks 
 Upon those lips from whence these sweet 
 
 words vanish'd, 
 
 That freed me from the cruellest of prisons, 
 Blind ignorance and misbelief. False pro- 
 phet ! 
 Impostor Mahomet ! 
 
 Asam. I'll hear no more, 
 You do abuse my favours ; sever them : 
 Wretch, if thou hadst another life to lose, 
 This blasphemy deserved it ; instantly 
 Carry them to their deaths. 
 
 Vitel. We part now, blest one, 
 To meet hereafter in a kingdom, where 
 Hell's malice shall not reach us. 
 
 Paul. Ha ! ha ! ha ! 
 
 Asam. What means my mistress ? 
 
 Paul. Who can hold her spleen, 
 When such ridiculous follies are presented, 
 The scene, too, made religion ? O, my lord, 
 How from one cause two contrary effects 
 Spring up upon the sudden ! 
 
 Asam. This is strange. 
 
 Paul. That which hath fool'd her in her 
 
 death, wins me, 
 That hitherto have barr'd myself from 
 
 pleasure, 
 To live in all delight. 
 
 Asam. There's music in this. 
 
 Paul. I now will run as fiercely to your 
 
 arms 
 
 As ever longing woman did, borne high 
 On the swift wings of appetite. 
 
 Vitel. O devil ! 
 
 Paul. Nay, more ; for there shall be no 
 
 odds betwixt us, 
 I will turn Turk. 
 
 Gaz. Most of your tribe do so, 
 When they begin in whore. [Aside. 
 
 Asam. You are serious, lady ? 
 
 Paul. Serious ! but satisfy me in a suit 
 That to the world may witness that I have 
 Some power upon you, and to-morrow 
 
 challenge 
 
 Whatever's in my gift ; for I will be 
 At your dispose. 
 
 Gaz. That's ever the subscription 
 To a damn'd whore's false epistle. [Aside. 
 
 Asam. Ask this hand, 
 Or, if thou wilt, the heads of these. I am 
 
 rapt 
 
 Beyond myself with joy. Speak, speak, 
 what is it ? 
 
 Paul. But twelve short hours' reprieve 
 for this base couple. 
 
 Asam. The reason, since you hate them ? 
 
 Paul. That I may 
 
THE REN EG ADO. 
 
 Have time to triumph o'er this wretched 
 
 woman. 
 
 I'll be myself her guardian ; I will feast, 
 Adorned in her choice and richest jewels : 
 Commit him to what guards you please. 
 
 Grant this, 
 I am no more mine own, but yours. 
 
 Asam. Enjoy it ; 
 
 Repine at it who dares : bear him safe off 
 To the black tower, but give him all things 
 
 useful : 
 
 The contrary was not in your request ? 
 Paul. I do contemn him. 
 Don. Peace in death denied me ! 
 Paul. Thou shalt not go in liberty to thy 
 
 grave ; 
 
 For one night a sultana is my slave. 
 Musta. A terrible little tyranness ! 
 Asam. No more ; 
 
 Her will shall be a law. Till now ne'er happy ! 
 
 \Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE IV. A Street. 
 Enter Francisco, Grimaldi, Master, Boat- 
 swain, and Sailors. 
 Grim. Sir, all things are in readiness ; 
 
 the Turks, 
 That seized upon my ship, stow'd under 
 
 hatches ; 
 My men resolved and cheerful. Use but 
 
 means 
 
 To get out of the ports, we will be ready 
 To bring you aboard, and then (heaven be 
 
 but pleased) 
 This, for the viceroy's fleet ! 
 
 Fran. Discharge your parts ; 
 In mine I'll not be wanting: Fear not, 
 
 master ; 
 Something will come along to fraught your 
 
 bark, 
 That you will have just cause to say you 
 
 never 
 Made such a voyage. 
 
 Must. We will stand the hazard. 
 Fran. What's the best hour ? 
 Boatsw. After the second watch. 
 Fran. Enough ; each to his charge. 
 Grim. We will be careful. \Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE V. A Room in Asambeg's Palace. 
 Enter Paulina, Donusa, Carazie, and 
 
 Manto. 
 Paul. Sit, madam, it is fit that I attend 
 
 you ; 
 And pardon, I beseech you, my rude 
 
 language, 
 
 To which the sooner you will be invited, 
 When you shall understand, no way was 
 left me 
 
 To free you from a present execution, 
 But by my personating that which never 
 My nature was acquainted with. 
 
 Don. I believe you. 
 
 Paul. You will, when you shall under- 
 
 stand I may 
 
 Receive the honour to be known unto you 
 By a nearer name : and, not to rack you 
 
 further, 
 
 The man you please to favour is my brother ; 
 No merchant, madam, but a gentleman 
 Of the best rank in Venice. 
 
 Don. I rejoice in't ; 
 
 But what's this to his freedom ? for myself, 
 Were he well off, I were secure. 
 
 Paul. I have 
 
 A present means, not plotted by myself, 
 But a religious man, my confessor, 
 That may preserve all, if we had a sen-ant 
 Whose faith we might rely on. 
 
 Don. She, that's now 
 Your slave, was once mine ; had I twenty 
 
 lives, 
 I durst commit them to her trust. 
 
 Mant. O madam ! 
 
 I have been false, forgive me : I'll re- 
 deem it 
 
 By anything, however desperate, 
 You please to impose upon me. 
 
 Paul. Troth, these tears, 
 I think, cannot be counterfeit ; I believe 
 
 her, 
 And, if you please, will try her. 
 
 Don. At your peril ; 
 
 There is no further danger can look towards 
 me. 
 
 Paul. This only then canst thou use 
 
 means to carry 
 This bake-meat to Vitelli? 
 
 Mant. With much ease ; 
 I am familiar with the guard ; beside, 
 It being known it was I that betray'd him, 
 My entrance hardly will of them be ques- 
 tion'd. 
 
 Paul. About it then. Say, that 'twas 
 
 sent to him 
 From his Donusa ; bid him search the midst 
 
 of it, 
 He there shall find a cordial. 
 
 Mant. What I do 
 Shall speak my care and faith. [Exit. 
 
 Don. Good fortune with thee ! 
 
 Paul. You cannot eat ? 
 
 Don. The time we thus abuse 
 We might employ much better. 
 
 Paul. I am glad 
 
 To hear this from you. As for you, Carazie, 
 If our intents do prosper, make choice, 
 whether 
 
 M2 
 
i6 4 
 
 THE REN EGA DO. 
 
 You'll steal away with your two mistresses, 
 Or take your fortune. 
 
 Car. I'll be gelded twice first ; 
 Hang him that stays behind. 
 
 Paul. I wait you, madam. 
 Were but my brother off, by the command 
 Of the doting viceroy there's no guard dare 
 
 stay me ; 
 
 And I will safely bring you to the place, 
 Where we must expect him. 
 
 Don. Heaven be gracious to us ! [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE VI. A Room in the Black Tower. 
 Enter Vitelli, Aga, and Guard, at the door. 
 Vitel. Paulina to fall off thus ! 'tis to me 
 More terrible than death, and, like an earth- 
 quake, 
 
 Totters this walking building, such I am ; 
 And in my sudden ruin would prevent, 
 By choaking up at once my vital spirits, 
 This pompous preparation for my death. 
 But I am lost ; that good man, good Fran- 
 cisco, 
 
 Deliver'd me a paper, which till now 
 I wanted leisure to peruse. [Reads the paper. 
 
 Aga. This Christian 
 
 Fears not, it seems, the near approaching sun, 
 Whose second rise he never must salute. 
 
 Enter Manto -with the baked-meat. 
 
 1 Guard. Who's that ? 
 
 2 Guard. Stand. 
 Aga. Manto ! 
 
 Mant. Here's the viceroy's ring, 
 Gives warrant to my entrance ; yet you may 
 Partake of anything I shall deliver. 
 'Tis but a present to a dying man, 
 Sent from the princess that must suffer with 
 
 him. 
 
 Aga. Use your own freedom. 
 Mant. I would not disturb 
 This his last contemplation. 
 
 Vitel. O, 'tis well ! 
 
 He has restored all, and I at peace again 
 With my Paulina. 
 
 Mant. Sir, the sad Donusa, 
 Grieved for your sufferings, more than for 
 
 her own, 
 
 Knowing the long and tedious pilgrimage 
 You are to take, presents you with this 
 
 cordial, 
 Which privately she wishes you should taste 
 
 of; 
 And search the middle part, where you 
 
 shall find 
 
 Something that hath the operation to 
 Make death look lovely. 
 
 Vitel. I will not dispute 
 What she commands, but serve it. [Exit. 
 
 Aga. Prithee, Manto, 
 How hath the unfortunate princess spent 
 
 this night, 
 Under her proud new mistress? 
 
 Manl. With such patience 
 As it o'ercomes the other's insolence, 
 Nay, triumphs o'er her pride. My much: 
 
 haste now 
 Commands me hence ; but, the sad tragedy 
 
 past, 
 
 I'll give you satisfaction to the full 
 Of all hath pass'd, and a true character 
 Of the proud Christian's nature. [Exit, 
 
 Aga. Break the watch up ; 
 What should we fear i' the midst of our own 
 
 strengths ? 
 
 'Tis but the basha's jealousy. Farewell, 
 soldiers ! [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE VII. An upper Room in the same. 
 
 Enter Vitelli with the baked-meat. 
 Vitel. There's something more in this 
 
 than means to cloy 
 
 A hungry appetite, which I must discover. 
 She will'd me search the midst : thus, thus 
 
 I pierce it. 
 Ha ! what is this ? a scroll bound up ia 
 
 packthread ! 
 
 What may the mystery be ? [Reads. 
 
 Son, let down this packthread at the west 
 window of the castle. By it you shall draw 
 up a ladder of ropes, by which you may 
 descend : your dearest Donusa with the rest 
 of your friends below attend you. Heaven 
 prosper you ! 
 
 best of men ! he that gives up himself 
 To a true religious friend, leans not upon 
 A false deceiving reed, but boldly builds 
 Upon a rock ; which now with joy I find 
 In reverend Francisco, whose good vows, 
 Labours, and watchings, in my hoped-for 
 
 freedom, 
 Appear a pious miracle. I come, 
 
 1 come with confidence ; though the descent 
 Were steep as hell, I know I cannot slide, 
 Being call'd dpwn by such a faithful guide. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 SCENE VIII. A Room in Asambeg's 
 
 Palace. 
 
 Enter Asambeg, Mustapha, and Janizaries. 
 Asam. Excuse me, Mustapha, though 
 
 this night to me 
 
 Appear as tedious as that treble one 
 Was to theworld, when Jove on fair Alcmena 
 Begot Alcides. Were you to encounter 
 Those ravishing pleasures, which the slow- 
 paced hours 
 
THE RENEGADO. 
 
 165 
 
 (To me they are such) bar me from, you 
 would, 
 
 With your continued wishes, strive to imp 
 
 New feathers to the broken wings of time, 
 
 And chide the amorous sun, for too long 
 dalliance 
 
 In Thetis' watery bosom. 
 Musta. You are too violent 
 
 In your desires, of which you are yet un- 
 certain ; 
 
 Having no more assurance to enjoy them, 
 
 Than a weak woman's promise, on which 
 wise men 
 
 Faintly rely. 
 Asam. Tush ! she is made of truth ; 
 
 And what she says she will do, holds as firm 
 
 As laws in brass, that know no change : 
 
 [A chamber shot off. 
 
 What's this? 
 
 Some new prize brought in, sure 
 
 Enter Aga hastily. 
 
 Why are thy looks 
 So ghastly? Villain, speak ! 
 
 Aga. Great sir, hear me, 
 Then after, kill me : we are all betray f d. 
 The false Grimaldi, sunk in your disgrace, 
 With his confederates, has seized his ship, 
 
 And those that guarded it stowed under 
 
 hatches. 
 With him the condemn'd princess, and the 
 
 merchant, 
 
 That, with a ladder made of ropes, descended 
 From the black tower, in which he was en- 
 closed, 
 
 And your fair mistress 
 
 Asam. Ha! 
 
 Aga. With all their train, 
 And choicest jewels, are gone safe aboard : 
 Their sails spread forth, and with a fore- 
 right gale 
 
 Leaving our coast, in scorn of all pursuit, 
 As a farewell, they shew'd a broadside to us. 
 Asam. No more. 
 
 Micsta. Now note your confidence ! 
 Asam. No more. 
 O my credulity ! I am too full 
 Of grief and rage to speak. Dull, heavy fool ! 
 Worthy of all the tortures that the frown 
 Of thy incensed master can throw on thee, 
 Without one man's compassion ! I will 
 
 hide 
 
 This head among the desarts, or some cave 
 Fill'd with my shame and me ; where I alone 
 May die without a partner in my moan. 
 
 {Exeunt. 
 
The Parliament of Love. 
 
 DRAMATIS 
 
 AS FAR AS THEY APPEAR IN THE 
 
 Charles VIII. king of France. 
 Duke of Orleans. 
 Duke of Nemours. 
 
 Chamont, a nobleman ; once guardian to 
 Bellisant. 
 
 PERSONS, 
 
 REMAINING SCENES OF THIS PLAY. 
 
 Montrose, a noble gentleman, in love with 
 
 Bellisant. 
 
 Cleremond, in love with Leonora. 
 Clarindore, a wild courtier. 
 
 Dinant, physician to the court. 
 
 Bellisant, a noble lady. 
 
 Lamira, wife to Chamont. 
 
 Beaupre, (supposed Calista, ) -wife to Clarin- 
 
 dore. 
 Leonora. 
 
 : Clarinda, wife to Dinant. 
 ' Other Courtiers, Priest, Officers, Servants, 
 frc. 
 
 SCENE, Paris, and the adjacent country. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 SCENE IV. A Room in Bellisant's House. 
 
 Enter Chamont and Bellisant. 
 Cham. ....... 
 
 I did discharge the trust imposed upon me, 
 Being your guardian. 
 Bell. 'Tis with truth acknowledged. 
 Cham. The love I then bore to you, and 
 
 desire 
 
 To do you all good offices of a friend, 
 Continues with me, nay, increases, lady ; 
 And, out of this assurance, I presume, 
 What, from a true heart, I shall now deliver, 
 Will meet a gentle censure. 
 
 Bell. When you speak, 
 Whate'er the subject be, I gladly hear. 
 Chain. To tell you of the greatness of 
 
 your state, 
 
 And from what noble stock you are derived, 
 Were but impertinence, and a common 
 
 theme, 
 Since you well know both. What I am to 
 
 speak of, 
 Touches you nearer ; therefore, give me 
 
 leave 
 
 To say, that, howsoever your great bounties, 
 Continual feasting, princely entertainments, 
 May gain you the opinion of some few 
 Of a brave generous spirit, (the best harvest 
 That you can hope for from such costly 
 
 seed,) 
 You cannot yet, amongst the multitude, 
 
 (Since, next unto the princes of the blood, 
 The eyes of all are fix'd on you,) but give 
 Some wounds, which will not close without 
 
 a scar, 
 
 To your fair reputation, and good name ; 
 In suffering such a crew of riotous gallants, 
 Not of the best repute, to be so frequent 
 Both in your house and presence : this, 'tis 
 
 rumour'd, 
 
 Little agrees with the curiousness of honour, 
 Or modesty of a maid. 
 
 Bell. Not to dwell long 
 Upon my answer, I must thank your good- 
 ness, 
 
 And provident care, that have instructed me 
 What my revenues are, by which I measure 
 How far I may expend ; and yet I find not 
 That I begin to waste ; nor would I add 
 To what I now possess. I am myself ; 
 And for my fame, since I am innocent here, 
 This, for the world's opinion ! 
 Cham. Take heed, madam. 
 That [world's] opinion, which you slight, 
 
 confirms 
 
 This lady for immodest, and proclaims 
 Another for a modest ; whereas the first 
 Ne'er knew what loose thoughts were, ami 
 
 the praised second 
 Had never a cold dream. 
 Bell. I dare not argue : 
 But what means to prevent this ? 
 Cham. Noble marriage. 
 Bell. Pardon me, sir ; and do not think I 
 scorn 
 
THE PARLIAMENT OF LOVE. 
 
 167 
 
 Your grave advice, which I have ever fol- 
 lowed, 
 
 Though not pleased in it. 
 
 Would you have me match with wealth ? I 
 
 need it not : 
 
 Or hunt for honour, and increase of titles ? 
 In truth, I rest ambitious of no greater 
 Than what my father left. Or do you judge 
 My blood to run so high, that 'tis not in 
 Physic to cool me ? I yet feel no such heat : 
 But when, against my will, it grows upon me, 
 I'll think upon your counsel. 
 
 Cham. If you resolve, then, 
 To live a virgin, you have 
 To which you may retire, and ha- . 
 
 To 
 
 In 
 
 And live cont- 
 
 Bell. What proof 
 
 Should I give of my continence, if I lived 
 Not seen, nor seeing any ? Spartan Helen, 
 Corinthian Lais, or Rome's Messaline, 
 So mew'd up, might have died as they were 
 
 born, 
 
 By lust un tempted : no, it is the glory 
 Of chastity to be tempted, tempted home too, 
 The honour else is nothing ! I would be 
 The first example to convince, for liars, 
 Those poets, that with sharp and bitter 
 
 rhymes 
 
 Proclaim aloud, that chastity has no being, 
 But in a cottage : and so confident 
 I am in this to conquer, that I will 
 Expose myself to all assaults ; see masques, 
 And hear bewitching sonnets ; change dis- 
 course 
 With one that, for experience, could teach 
 
 Ovid 
 
 To write, a better way, his Art of Love : 
 Feed high, and take and give free entertain- 
 ment, 
 
 Lend Cupid eyes, and new artillery, 
 Deny his mother for a deity ; 
 Yet every burning shot he made at me, 
 Meeting with my chaste thoughts, should 
 
 lose their ardour ; 
 Which when I have o'ercome, malicious 
 
 men 
 
 Must, to their shame, confess it's possible, 
 For a young lady, (some say fair,) at court, 
 To keep her virgin honour. 
 Cham. May you prosper 
 In this great undertaking ! I'll not use 
 A syllable to divert you : but must be 
 A suitor in another kind. 
 
 Bell. Whate'er it be, 
 'Tis granted. 
 
 Cham. It is only to accept 
 A present from me. 
 
 Bell. Call you this a suit ? 
 Cham. Come in, Calista. 
 
 Enter Beaupre, disguised a* i Moorish. 
 Stove. 
 
 This is one I would 
 Bestow upon you. 
 
 Bell. 'Tis the handsomest, 
 I e'er saw of her country ; she hath neither 
 Thick lips, nor rough curl'd hair. 
 
 Cham. Her manners, lady, 
 Upon my honour, better her good shape : 
 She speaks our language too, for being sur- 
 prised 
 
 In Barbary, she was bestow'd upon 
 A pirate of Marseilles, with whose wife 
 She lived five years, and learn'd it ; there I 
 
 bought her, 
 
 As pitying her hard usage ; if you please 
 To make her yours, you may. 
 
 Bell. With many thanks. 
 Come hither, pretty one ; fear not, you shall 
 
 find me 
 A gentle mistress. 
 
 Beau. With my care and service, 
 I'll study to preserve you such. 
 
 Bell. Well answered. 
 Come, follow me ; we'll instantly to court, 
 And take my guests along. 
 
 Chamb. They wait you, madam. 
 
 [Exeunt, 
 
 SCENE V. A State-room in the Palace. 
 Flourish. Enter Charles, Orleans, Nemours, 
 
 Philamour, and Lafort. 
 Char. What solitude does dwell about our 
 
 court ! 
 Why this dull entertainment? Have I 
 
 march'd 
 
 Victorious through Italy, enter'd Rome, 
 Like a triumphant conqueror, set my foot 
 Upon the neck of Florence, tamed the pride 
 Of the Venetians, scourged those petty 
 
 tyrants, 
 
 That . . . den of the world, to be 
 home, nay, my house neglected ! 
 (New Speaker.) . . the courtiers 
 would appear 
 
 therefore they presumed 
 
 (New Speaker.) . . the ladies, sir, 
 that glad time 
 the choice. 
 
 Enter Bellisant, Leonora, Lamira, Cla- 
 rinda, Chamont, Montrose, Cleremond, 
 Clarindore, Perigot, Novall, and other 
 Courtiers. 
 
 Phil. Here they come. 
 
i68 
 
 THE PARLIAMENT OF LOVE. 
 
 Ladies. All happiness to your majesty ! 
 Courtiers. And victory sit ever on your 
 
 sword ! 
 
 Char. Our thanks to all. 
 But wherefore come you in divided troops, 
 As if the mistresses would not accept 
 Their servants' guardship, or the servants, 
 
 slighted, 
 
 Refuse to offer it ? You all wear sad looks : 
 ' On Perigot appears not that blunt mirth 
 ! Which his face used to promise ; on Mon- 
 
 trose 
 
 I There hangs a heavy dulness ; Cleremond 
 Droops e'en to death, and Clarindore hath 
 
 lost 
 
 Much of his sharpness ; nay, these ladies too, 
 Whose sparkling eyes did use to fire the court 
 i With various inventions of delight, 
 Part with their splendour. What's the cause? 
 
 from whence 
 Proceeds this alteration ? 
 
 Peri. I am troubled 
 With the toothache, or with love, I know 
 
 hot whether ; 
 
 There is a worm in both. [Aside. 
 
 Clarin. It is their pride. 
 Bell. Or your unworthiness. 
 Cler. The honour that 
 
 i The French dames held for courtesy, above 
 1 All ladies of the earth, dwells not in these, 
 That glory in their cruelty. 
 
 Leon. The desert 
 
 The chevaliers of France were truly lords of, 
 And which your grandsires really did possess, 
 At no part you inherit. 
 Bell. Ere they durst 
 Presume to offer service to a lady, 
 In person they perform'd some gallant acts 
 The fame of which prepared them gracious 
 
 hearing, 
 Ere they made their approaches : what coy 
 
 she, then, 
 
 1 Though great in birth, not to be parallel'd 
 : For nature s liberal bounties, both set off 
 With fortune's trappings, wealth ; but, with 
 
 delight, 
 Gladly acknowledged such a man her 
 
 servant, 
 
 To whose heroic courage, and deep wisdom, 
 The flourishing commonwealth, and thank- 
 ful king, 
 Confess'd themselves for debtors ? Whereas, 
 
 now, 
 If you have travelled Italy, and brought 
 
 home 
 
 Some remnants of the language, and can set 
 Your faces in some strange and ne'er-seen 
 
 posture, 
 Dance a lavolta, and be rude and saucy ; 
 
 Protest, and swear, and damn, (for these are ! 
 
 acts 
 That most think grace them,) and then view , 
 
 yourselves 
 
 In the deceiving mirror of self-love, 
 You do conclude there hardly is a woman 
 That can be worthy of you. 
 
 Mont. We would grant 
 We are not equal to our ancestors 
 In noble undertakings, if we thought, 
 In us a free confession would persuade you, 
 Not to deny your own most wilful errors : 
 And where you tax us for unservice, lady, 
 I never knew a soldier yet, that could 
 Arrive into your favour : we may suffer 
 The winter's frost, and scorching summer's 
 
 heat, 
 
 When the hot lion's breath singeth the fields, 
 To seek out victory ; yet, at our return, 
 Though honour'd in our manly wounds, well 
 
 taken, 
 
 You say they do deform us, and the loss 
 Of much blood that way, renders us unfit 
 To please you in your chambers. 
 
 Clarin. I must speak 
 
 A little in the general cause : Your beauties 
 Are charms that do enchant so . 
 
 Knowing that we are fastened in your toils ; 
 In which to struggle, or strive to break out, 
 Increases the captivity. Never Circe, 
 Sated with such she purposed to transform, 
 Or cunning Siren, for whose fatal music 
 Nought but the hearer's death could satisfy, 
 Knew less of pity. Nay, I dare go further, 
 And justify your majesty hath lost 
 More resolute and brave courageous spirits 
 In this same dull and languishing fight of 
 
 love, 
 Than e'er your wars took from you. 
 
 Char. No reply : 
 
 This is a cause we will determine of, 
 And speedily redress : Tamed Italy, 
 With fear, confesses me a warlike king, 
 And France shall boast I am a prince of 
 
 love. 
 
 Shall we, that keep perpetual parliaments 
 For petty suits, or the least injury 
 Offer'd the goods or bodies of our subjects, 
 Not study a cure for the sickness of the mind, 
 Whose venomous contagion hath infected 
 Our bravest servants, and the choicest 
 
 beauties 
 Our court is proud of? These are wounds 
 
 require 
 
 A kingly surgeon, and the honour worthy 
 By us to be accepted. 
 Phil. It would add 
 To the rest of your great actions. 
 
THE PARLIAMENT OF LOVE. 
 
 169 
 
 Laf. But the means 
 Most difficult, I fear. 
 
 Cham. You shall do more, sir, 
 If you perform this, than I e'er could read 
 The sons of Saturn, that by lot divided 
 The government of the air, the sea, and hell, 
 Had spirit to undertake. 
 
 Char. Why, this more fires me ; 
 And now partake of my design. With speed 
 Erect a place of justice near the court, 
 Which we'll have styled, the PARLIAMENT 
 
 OF LOVE : 
 Here such whose humble service is not con- 
 
 sider'd 
 
 By their proud mistresses, freely may com- 
 plain ; 
 
 And shall have hearing and redress. 
 Nov. O rare ! 
 Peri. I like this well. 
 Char. And ladies that are wrong'd 
 By such as do profess themselves their ser- 
 vants, 
 May cite them hither, and their cause de- 
 
 liver'd 
 
 Or by their own tongues, or fee'd advocates, 
 Find sudden satisfaction. 
 
 Nov. What a rascal 
 
 j Was I to leave the law ! I might have had 
 I Clients and clients. Ne'er was such a time 
 For any smooth-chinn'd advocate. 
 
 Peri. They will get the start 
 , Of the ladies' spruce physicians, starve their 
 
 chaplains, 
 Though never so well timber'd. 
 
 Char. 'Tis our will, 
 
 Nor shall it be disputed. Of this court, 
 Or rather, sanctuary of pure lovers, 
 My lord of Orleans, and Nemours, assisted 
 By the messieurs Philamour and Lafort, are 
 
 judges. 
 1 You have worn Venus's colours from your 
 
 youth, 
 
 j And cannot, therefore, but be sensible 
 I Of all her mysteries : what you shall deter- 
 mine, 
 j In the way of penance, punishment, or 
 
 reward, 
 
 j Shall . the trial ; a month we grant you 
 j . . . amours, which expired, 
 
 j . make your complaints, and be assured 
 . impartial hearing ; this determined, 
 . . rest of our affairs. \Exeunt. 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 SCENE I. A Room in Clarindore's House. 
 Enter Clarindore, Montrose, Perigot, and 
 
 Novall. 
 Peri. I do not relish 
 
 The last part of the king's speech, though I 
 
 was 
 
 Much taken with the first. 
 Nov. Your reason, tutor? 
 Peri. Why, look you, pupil ; the decree, 
 
 that women 
 Should not neglect the service of their 
 
 lovers, 
 But pay them from the exchequer they were 
 
 born with, 
 
 Was good and laudable ; they being created 
 To be both tractable and tactable, 
 When they are useful : but to have it order 'd, 
 All women that have stumbled in the dark, 
 Or given, by owl-light, favours, should com- 
 plain, 
 
 Is most intolerable : I myself shall have, 
 Of such as trade in the streets, and scaped 
 
 my pockets, 
 
 Of progress laundresses, and marketwomen, 
 When the king's pleasure's known, a thou- 
 sand bills 
 Preferr'd against me. 
 
 Clarin. This is out of season : 
 Nothing to madam Bellisant, that, in public. 
 Hath so inveigh'd against us. 
 
 Nov. She's a Fury, 
 I dare no more attempt her. 
 
 Peri. I'll not venture 
 To change six words with her for half her 
 
 state, 
 Or stay, till she be trimm'd, from wine and 
 
 women, 
 For any new monopoly. 
 
 Mont. I will study 
 
 How to forget her, shun the tempting poison 
 Her looks, and magic of discourse, still offer, 
 And be myself again : since there's no hope, 
 Twere madness to pursue her. 
 
 Peri. There are madams 
 Better brought up, 'tis thought, and wives 
 
 that dare not 
 Complain in parliament ; there'ssafe trading, 
 
 pupil : 
 
 And, when she finds she is of all forsaken, 
 Let my lady Pride repent in vain, and mump, 
 And envy others' markets. 
 
 Clarin. May I ne'er prosper 
 But you are three of the most fainting spirits, 
 That ever I conversed with ! You do well 
 To talk of progress laundresses, punks, and 
 
 beggars ; 
 The wife of some rich tradesman with three 
 
 teeth, 
 And twice so many hairs : truck with old: 
 
 ladies, 
 That nature hath given o'er, that owe their 
 
 doctors 
 For an artificial life, that are so frozen. 
 
170 
 
 THE PARLIAMENT OF LOVE. 
 
 That a sound plague cannot thaw them ; 
 
 but despair, 
 
 I give you over : never hope to take 
 A velvet petticoat up, or to commit 
 With an Italian cutwork smock, when torn 
 
 too. 
 
 Mont. And what hopes nourish you? 
 Clarin. Troth, mine are modest. 
 j I am only confident to win the lady 
 I You dare not look on, and now, in the height 
 i Of her contempt and scorn, to humble her, 
 ! And teach her at what game her mother 
 
 play'd, 
 ! When she was got ; and, cloy'd with those 
 
 poor toys, 
 
 ! As I find her obedient and pleasing, 
 I may perhaps descend to marry her : 
 Then, with a kind of state, I take my chair, 
 j Command a sudden muster of my servants, 
 And, after two or three majestic hums, 
 It being known all is mine, peruse my 
 
 writings, 
 
 Let out this manor, at an easy rate, 
 To such a friend, lend this ten thousand 
 
 crowns, 
 
 For the redemption of his mortgaged land, 
 Give to each by-blow I know mine, a farm, 
 Erect . . . this in conse- . 
 
 That pleased me in my youth, but now 
 
 grown stale. 
 
 These things first ordered by me, and con- 
 firm 'd 
 
 By Bellisant, my wife, I care not much 
 If, out of her own lands, I do assign her 
 1 Some pretty jointure. 
 
 Peri. Talk'st thou in thy sleep? 
 Nov. Or art thou mad ? 
 i Clarin. A little elevated 
 i With the assurance of my future fortune : 
 Why do you stare and grin ? I know this 
 
 must be, 
 
 And I will lay three thousand crowns, within 
 A month I will effect this. 
 Mont. How! 
 Clarin. Give proof 
 
 I have enjoy 'd fair Bellisant, evident proof 
 I have pluck'd her virgin rose, so long pre- 
 served, 
 
 Not, like a play-trick, with a chain or ring 
 Stolen by corruption, but, against her will, 
 Make her confess so much. 
 Mont. Impossible. 
 Clarin. Then the disgrace be mine, the 
 
 profit yours. 
 
 If that you think her chastity a rock 
 Not to be moved or shaken," or hold me 
 A flatterer of myself, or overweener, 
 Let me pay for my foolery. 
 
 Peri. I'll engage 
 Myself for a thousand. 
 
 Nov. I'll not out for a second. 
 
 Mont. I would gladly lose a third part for 
 
 assurance 
 No virgin can stand constant long. 
 
 Clarin. Leave that 
 To the trial : let us to a notary, 
 Draw the conditions, see the crowns de- 
 posited, 
 
 And then I will not cry, St. Dennis for me ! 
 But Love, blind archer, aid me ! 
 
 Peri. Look you thrive ; 
 I would not be so jeer'd and hooted at, 
 As you will be else. 
 
 Clarin. I will run the hazard. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE II. A Room in Leonora's House. 
 Enter Leonora and a Servant. 
 
 Serv. He will not be denied. 
 
 Leon. Slave, beat him back. 
 I feed such whelps ! 
 
 Serv. Madam, I rattled him, 
 Rattled him home. 
 
 Leon. Rattle him hence, you rascal, 
 Or never see me more. 
 
 Enter Cleremond. 
 
 Serv. He comes : a sword ! 
 What would you have me do ? Shall I cry 
 
 murder, 
 Or raise the constable ? 
 
 Leon. Hence, you shaking coward ! 
 Serv. I am glad I am so got off : here's 
 a round sum [Looking at his money. 
 For a few bitter words ! Be not shook off, 
 
 sir ; 
 I'll see none shall disturb you. [Exit. 
 
 Cler. You might spare 
 These frowns, good lady, on me ; they are 
 
 useless, 
 I am shot through and through with your 
 
 disdain, 
 
 And on my heart the darts of scorn so thick, 
 That there's no vacant place left to receive 
 Another wound : their multitude is grown 
 My best defence, and do confirm me that 
 You cannot hurt me further. 
 
 Leon. Wert thou not 
 
 Made up of impudence, and slaved to folly, 
 Did any drop of noble blood remain 
 In thy lustful veins, hadst thou or touch, or 
 
 relish, 
 
 Of modesty, civility, or manners, 
 Or but in thy deformed outside only 
 Thou didst retain the essence of a man, 
 . so many 
 
THE PARLIAMENT OF LOVE. 
 
 171 
 
 And loathing to thy person, thou wouldst 
 
 not 
 Force from a blushing woman that rude 
 
 language, 
 
 Thy baseness first made me acquainted with. 
 tier. Now saint-like patience guard me ! 
 Leon. I have heard 
 Of mountebanks, that to vent their drugs 
 
 and oils, 
 
 Have so enured themselves to poison, that 
 They could digest a venom'd toad, or spider, 
 Belter than wholesome viands : in the list 
 Of such I hold thee ; for that bitterness 
 Of speech, reproof, and scorn, by her de- 
 livered 
 
 Whom thou prof essest to adore, and shake at, 
 Which would deter all mankind but thyself, 
 Do nourish in thee saucy hopes, with 
 
 pleasure. 
 
 Cler. Hear but my just defence. 
 Leon. Yet, since thou art 
 So spaniel-like affected, and thy dotage 
 Increases from abuse and injury, 
 That way I'll once more feast thee. Of all 
 
 men 
 
 I ever saw yet, in my settled judgment, 
 Spite of thy barber, tailor, and perfumer, 
 And thine adulterate and borrow'd helps, 
 Thou art the ugliest creature ; and when 
 
 trimm'd up 
 To the height, as thou imagin'st, in mine 
 
 eyes, 
 
 A leper with a clap-dish, (to give notice 
 He is infectious,) in respect of thee, 
 Appears a young Adonis. 
 Cler. You look on me 
 In a false glass, madarn. 
 - Leon. Then thy dunghill mind, 
 Suitable to the outside, never yet 
 Produced one gentle thought, knowing her 
 
 want 
 
 Of faculties to put it into act. 
 Thy courtship, as absurd as any zany's, 
 After a practised manner ; thy discourse, 
 Though full of bombast phrase, never 
 
 brought matter 
 W T orthy the laughing at, much less the 
 
 hearing. 
 
 But I grow weary ; for, indeed, to speak thee, 
 Thy ills I mean, and speak them to the full, 
 Would tire a thousand women's voluble 
 
 tongues, 
 
 And twice so many lawyers' for a farewell, 
 I'll sooner clasp an incubus, or hug 
 A fork'd-tongued adder, than meet thy em- 
 braces, 
 Which, as the devil, I fly from. 
 
 Cler. Now you have spent 
 The utmost of your spleen, I would not say 
 
 Your malice, set off to the height with fiction, 
 Allow me leave, (a poor request, which judges 
 Seldom deny unto a man condemn d,) 
 A little to complain : for, being censured, 
 Or to extenuate, or excuse my guilt, 
 Were but to wash an Ethiop. How oft, 
 
 with tears, 
 
 When the inhuman porter has forbid 
 My entrance by your most severe commands, 
 Have these eyes wash'd your threshold ! 
 
 Did there ever 
 
 Come novelty to Paris, rich or rare, 
 Which but as soon as known was not pre- 
 sented, 
 Howe'er with frowns refused ? Have I not 
 
 brought 
 
 The braveries of France before your window, 
 To fight at barriers, or to break a lance, 
 Or, in their full career, to take the ring, 
 To do you honour ? and then, being refused 
 To speak my grief, my arms, my impresses, 
 The colours that I wore, in a dumb sorrow 
 Express'd how much I suffer'd in the rigour 
 Of your displeasure. 
 Leon. Two months hence I'll have 
 
 The 
 
 Cler. Stay, best madam, 
 I am growing to a period. 
 
 Leon. Pray you do ; 
 
 I here shall take a nap else, 'tis so pleasing. 
 Cler. Then only this : the voice you now 
 
 contemn, 
 You once did swear was musical ; you have 
 
 met too 
 These lips in a soft encounter, and have 
 
 brought 
 
 An equal ardour with you : never lived 
 A happier pair of lovers. I confess, 
 After you promised marriage, nothing want- 
 ing 
 
 But a few days expired, to make me happy, 
 My violent impatience of delay 
 Made me presume, and with some amorous- 
 
 force, 
 
 To ask a full fruition of those pleasures 
 Which sacred Hymen to the world makes^ 
 
 lawful, 
 
 Before his torch was lighted ; in this only, 
 You justly can accuse me. 
 Leon. Dar'st thou think 
 That this offence can ever find a pardon, 
 Unworthy as thou art ! 
 
 Cler. But you most cruel, 
 That, in your studied purpose of revenge, 
 Cast both divine and human laws behind you,. 
 And only see their rigour, not their mercy. 
 Offences of foul shape, by holy writ 
 Are warranted remission, provided 
 That the delinquent undergo the penance 
 
172 
 
 THE PARLIAMENT OF LOVE. 
 
 Imposed upon him by his confessor : 
 
 But you, that should be mine, and only can 
 
 Or punish or absolve me, are so far 
 
 From doing me right, that you disdain to 
 
 hear me. 
 
 Leon. Now I may catch him in my long- 
 wish 'd toils ; 
 My hate help me to work it ! [Aside.] To 
 
 what purpose, 
 
 Poor and pale spirited man, should I expect 
 From thee the satisfaction of a wrong, 
 Compared to which, the murder of a brother 
 Were but a gentle injury? 
 Cler. Witness, heaven, 
 All blessings hoped by good men, and all 
 
 tortures 
 The wicked shake at, no saint left unsworn 
 
 by, 
 
 That, uncompell'd, I here give up myself 
 Wholly to your devotion : if I fail 
 To do whatever you please to command, 
 To expiate my trespass to your honour, 
 So that, the task perform 'd, you likewise 
 
 swear, 
 
 First to forgive, and after marry me, 
 May I endure more sharp and lingering 
 
 torments 
 
 Than ever tyrants found out ! maymyfriends 
 With scorn, not pity, look upon my suffer- 
 ings, 
 
 And at my last gasp, in the place of hope., 
 Sorrow, despair, possess me ! 
 
 Leon. You are caught, 
 Most miserable fool, but fit to be so ; 
 And 'tis but justice that thou art delivered 
 Into her power that's sensible of a wrong, 
 And glories to revenge it. Let me study 
 What dreadful punishment, worthy my fury, 
 I shall inflict upon thee ; all the malice 
 Of injured women help me ! Death ? that's 
 
 nothing, 
 
 'Tis, to a conscious wretch, a benefit, 
 And not a penance ; else, on the next tree, 
 For sport's sake I would make thee hang 
 
 thyself. 
 
 Cler. What have I done? 
 Leon. What cannot be recall'd. 
 To row for seven years in the Turkish gallies ? 
 A flea-biting ! To be sold to a brothel, 
 Or a common bagnio ? that's a trifle too ! 
 
 Furies, 
 The lashes of their whips pierce through the 
 
 mind. 
 I'll imitate them : I have it too. 
 
 Cler. Remember 
 You are a woman. 
 
 Leon. I have heard thee boast, 
 That of all blessings in the earth next me, 
 The number of thy trusty, faithful friends, 
 
 Made up thy happiness : out of these, I 
 
 charge thee, 
 
 And by thine own repeated oaths conjure thee, 
 To kill the best deserver. Do not start ; 
 I'll have no other penance. Then to practise, 
 To find some means he that deserves thee 
 
 best, 
 
 By undertaking something others fly from : 
 This done, I am thine. 
 Cler. But hear me. 
 Leon. Not a syllable : 
 And till then, ne"ver see me. [Exit. 
 
 Cler. I am lost, 
 
 j Foolishly lost and sunk by mine own base- 
 ness : 
 
 I'll say only, 
 
 With a heart-breaking patience, yet not rave, 
 Better the devil's than a woman's slave. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 SCENE III. A Room in Bellisant's 
 
 House. 
 
 Enter Clarindore and Beaupre". 
 Clarin. Nay, prithee, good Calista 
 Beau. As I live, sir, 
 She is determined to be private, and charged 
 
 me, 
 
 Till of herself she broke up her retirement, 
 Not to admit a visitant. 
 
 Clarin. Thou art a fool, 
 And I must have thee learn to know thy 
 
 strength ; 
 
 There never was a sure path to the mistress, 
 But by her minister's help, which I will pay 
 for : [Gives her his purse. 
 
 But yet this is but trash ; hark in thine ear 
 By love ! I like thy person, and will make 
 Full payment that way ; be thou wise. 
 
 Beau. Like me, sir ! 
 One of my dark complexion ! 
 
 Clarin. I am serious : 
 The curtains drawn, and envious light shut 
 
 out, 
 The soft touch heightens appetite, and takes 
 
 more 
 
 Than colour, Venus 'dressing, in the day time, 
 But never thought on in her midnight revels. 
 Come, I must have thee mine. 
 Beau. But how to serve you ? 
 Clarin. Be speaking still my praises to thy 
 
 lady, 
 How much I love and languish for her 
 
 bounties : 
 
 You may remember too, how many madams 
 Are rivals for me, and, in way of caution, 
 Say you have heard, when I was wild, how 
 
 dreadful 
 
 My name was to a profess'd courtezan, 
 Still asking more than she could give 
 
THE PARLIAMENT OF LOVE. 
 
 173- 
 
 Enter Bellisant. 
 
 Beau. My lady ! 
 
 Bell. Be within call : 
 
 [Aside, to the Servants within. 
 How now, Clarindore, 
 
 Courting my servant ! Nay, 'tis not my envy 
 You now express yourself a complete lover, 
 That, for variety's sake, if she be woman, 
 Can change discourse with any. 
 
 Clarin. All are foils 
 
 I practise on, but when you make me happy 
 In doing me that honour : I desired 
 To hear her speak in the Morisco tongue ; 
 Troth, 'tis a pretty language. 
 
 Bell. Yes, to dance to : 
 Look to those sweetmeats. \Exit Beaupre. 
 
 Clarin. How ! by heaven, she aims 
 To speak with me in private ! {Aside. 
 
 Bell. Come, sit down ; 
 Let's have some merry conference. 
 
 Clarin. In which 
 
 It 
 
 That my whole life employ 'd to do you 
 
 service, 
 At no part can deserve. 
 
 Bell. If you esteem it 
 At such a rate, do not abuse my bounty, 
 Or comment on the granted privacy, further 
 Than what the text may warrant ; so you shall 
 Destroy what I have built. 
 
 Clarin. I like not this. [Aside. 
 
 Bell. This new-erected Parliament of 
 
 Love, 
 
 It seems, has frighted hence my visitants : 
 HowspendMontroseandPerigottheirhours? 
 NovallandCleremond vanish'dinamoment ; 
 I like your constancy yet. 
 
 Clarin. That's good again ; 
 She hath restored all : [Aside.] Pity them, 
 
 good madam ; 
 The splendour of your house and entertain - 
 
 ment, 
 
 Enrich'd with all perfections by yourself, 
 Is too, too glorious for their dim eyes : 
 You are above their element ; modest fools, 
 That only dare admire ! and bar them from 
 Comparing of these eyes to the fairest flowers, 
 Giving you Juno's majesty, Pallas' wit, 
 Diana's hand, and Thetis' pretty foot ; 
 Or, when you dance, to swear that Venus leads 
 The Loves and Graces from the Idalian green, 
 And such hyperboles stolen out of playbooks, 
 They would stand all day mute, and, as you 
 
 were 
 
 Some curious picture only to be look'd on, 
 Presume no further. 
 
 Bell. Pray you, keep your distance, 
 And grow not rude. 
 
 Clarin. Rude, lady ! manly boldness 
 Cannot deserve that name ; 1 have studied- 
 
 you, 
 
 And love hath made an easy gloss upon 
 The most abstruse and hidden mysteries 
 Which you may keep conceal'd. You well 
 
 may praise 
 
 A bashful suitor, that is ravish 'd with 
 A feather of your fan, or if he gain 
 A riband from your shoe, cries out, Nil 
 
 ultra ! 
 
 Bell. And what would satisfy you ? 
 Clarin. Not such poor trifles, 
 I can assure you, lady. Do not I see 
 You are gamesome, young, and active? that 
 
 you love 
 
 A man that, of himself, comes boldly on, 
 That will not put your modesty to trouble, 
 To teach him how to feed, when meat's 
 
 before him ! 
 That knows that you are flesh and blood, a 
 
 creature, 
 
 And born with such affections, that, like me, 
 Now I have opportunity, and your favour, 
 Will not abuse my fortune ? Should I stand 
 
 now 
 
 Licking my fingers, cry Ah me ! then kneel, 
 And swear you were a goddess, kiss the- 
 
 skirts 
 Of your proud garments, when I were gone, 
 
 I am sure 
 
 I should be kindly laugh'd at for a coxcomb ; 
 The story made the subject of your mirth, 
 At your next meeting, when you sit in 
 
 council, 
 Among the beauties. 
 
 Bell. Is this possible ? 
 All due respect forgotten ! 
 Clarin. Hang respect ! 
 Are we not alone ? See, I dare touch this 
 
 hand, 
 
 And without adoration unglove it. 
 A spring of youth is in this palm ; here 
 
 Cupid, 
 The moisture turn'd to diamonds, heads his 
 
 arrows : 
 
 The far-famed English Bath, or German- 
 Spa, 
 One drop of this will purchase. Shall this 
 
 nectar 
 Run useless, then, to waste? or 
 
 these lips, 
 
 That open like the morn, breathing perfumes 
 On such as dare approach them, be un- 
 
 touch'd ? 
 
 They must, nay, 'tis in vain to make resis- 
 tance, 
 
 Be often kiss'd and tasted : You seem angry 
 At ... I have displeased you. 
 
[ 74 
 
 THE PARLIAMENT OF LOVE. 
 
 Bell, [to the Servants within.'] . . 
 And come prepared, as if someAfrick monster, 
 By force, had broke into my house. 
 
 Enter Servants with drawn swords. 
 
 Clarin. How's this ? 
 
 Bell. Circle him round with death, and if 
 
 he stir, 
 
 Or but presume to speak, till I allow it, 
 His body be the navel to the wheel, 
 In which your rapiers, like so many spokes, 
 Shall meet and fix themselves. 
 Clarin. Were I off with life, 
 This for my wager ! [Aside. 
 
 Bell. Villain, shake and tremble 
 At my just anger ! Which, of all my actions, 
 Confined in virtuous limits, hath given life 
 And birth to this presumption ? Hast thou 
 
 ever 
 
 Observed in me a wanton look or gesture, 
 Not suiting with a virgin ? Have I been 
 Prodigal in my favours, or given hopes, 
 To nourish such attempts ? swear, and swear 
 
 truly, 
 What in thy soul thou think'st of me. 
 
 Clarin. As of one 
 
 Made up of chastity ; and only tried, 
 Which I repent, what this might work upon 
 
 you. 
 Bell. The intent deserves not death ; but, 
 
 sirrah, know 
 
 Tis in my power to look thee dead. 
 Clarin. 'Tis granted. 
 Bell. I am not so cruel ; yet, for this 
 
 insolence, 
 
 Forbear my house for ever : if you are hot, 
 You, ruffian-like, may force a parting kiss, 
 As from a common gamester. 
 
 Clarin. I am cool : 
 She's a virago. [Aside. 
 
 Bell. Or you may go boast, 
 How bravely you came on, to your com- 
 panions ; 
 
 I will not bribe your silence : no reply. 
 Now thrust him headlong out of doors, and 
 
 see 
 He never more pass my threshold. [Exit. 
 
 Clarin. This comes of 
 My daring : all hell's plagues light on the 
 proverb 
 
 That says, Faintheart but it is stale. 
 
 Serv. Pray you walk, sir, 
 We must shew you the way else. 
 
 Clarin. Be not too officious. 
 I am no bar for you to try your strength on. 
 Sit quietly by this disgrace I cannot : 
 Some other course I must be forced to take, 
 Not for my wager now, but honour's sake. 
 \Exeuni. 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 SCENE I. A Room in Chamont's House. 
 Enter Chamont, Perigot, Novall, Dinant, 
 
 Lamira, and Clarinda. 
 Peri. Twas prince-like entertainment. 
 Cham. You o'erprize it. 
 Din. Your cheerful looks made every dish 
 
 a feast, 
 And 'tis that crowns a welcome. 
 
 Lam. For my part, 
 I hold society and honest mirth 
 The greatest blessing of a civil life. 
 
 Cla. Without good company, indeed, all 
 
 dainties 
 Lose their true relish, and, like painted 
 
 grapes, 
 Are only seen, not tasted. 
 
 Nov. By this light, 
 She speaks well, too ! I'll have a fling at 
 
 her: 
 
 She is no fit electuary for a doctor : 
 A coarser julap may well cool his worship ; 
 This cordial is for gallants. [Aside. 
 
 Cham. Let me see, 
 The night grows old : pray you often be my 
 
 guests. 
 Such as dare come unto a ... 
 
 table, 
 
 Although not crack'd with curious delicates, 
 Have liberty to command it as their own : 
 I may do the like with you, when you are 
 
 married. 
 
 Peri. Yes, 'tis likely, 
 
 When there's no forage to be had abroad, 
 Nor credulous husbands left to father chil- 
 dren 
 
 Of bachelors' begetting; when court wives 
 Are won to grant variety is not pleasing, 
 And that a friend at a pinch is useless to 
 
 them, 
 I but till then 
 
 Cham. You have a merry time oft ; 
 But we forget ourselves ; Gallants, good 
 
 night. 
 Good master doctor, when your leisure 
 
 serves, 
 Visit my house ; when we least need their 
 
 art, 
 Physicians look most lovely. 
 
 Din. All that's in me, 
 Is at your lordship's service. Monsieur 
 
 Perigot, 
 
 Monsieur Novall, in what I may be useful, 
 Pray you command me. 
 Nov. We'll wait on you home. 
 Din. By no means, sir ; good night. 
 [Exeunt all but Novall and Perigot. 
 
THE PARLIAMENT OF LOVE. 
 
 '73 
 
 Nov. The knave is jealous. 
 
 Peri. 'Tis a disease few doctors cure 
 themselves of. 
 
 Nov. I would he were my patient ! 
 
 Peri. Do but practise 
 To get his wife's consent, the way is easy. 
 
 Nov. You may conclude so ; for myself, 
 
 I grant 
 
 I never was so taken with a woman, 
 Nor ever had less hope. 
 
 Peri. Be not dejected ; 
 Follow but my directions, she's your own : 
 I'll set thee in a course that shall not fail. 
 I like thy choice ; but more of that here- 
 after : 
 
 Adultery is a safe and secret sin ; 
 The purchase of a maidenhead seldom quits 
 The danger and the labour : build on this, 
 He that puts home shall find all women 
 
 coming, 
 
 The frozen Bellisant ever excepted. 
 Could you believe the fair wife of Chamont, 
 A lady never tainted in her honour, 
 Should, at the first assault, (for till this night 
 I never courted her,) yield up the fort 
 That she hath kept so long ? 
 
 Nov. 'Tis wondrous strange. 
 What winning language used you? 
 
 Peri. Thou art a child ; 
 'Tis action, not fine speeches, take a woman. 
 Pleasure's their heaven ; and he that gives 
 
 assurance 
 That he hath strength to tame their hot 
 
 desires, 
 
 Is the prevailing orator : she but saw me 
 Jump over six join'd stools, and after cut 
 Some forty capers ; tricks that never miss, 
 In a magnificent masque, to draw the eyes 
 Of all the beauties in the court upon me, 
 But straight she wrung my hand, trod on 
 
 my toe, 
 
 And said my mistress could not but be happy 
 In such an able servant. I replied 
 Bluntly, I was ambitious to be hers ; 
 And she, nor coy, nor shy, straight enter- 
 
 tain'd me : 
 
 I begg'd a private meeting, it was granted, 
 The time and place appointed. 
 
 Nov. But remember, 
 Chamont is your friend. 
 
 > Peri. Now out upon thee, puisne ! 
 As if a man so far e'er loved that title, 
 But 'twas much more delight and tickling to 
 
 him, 
 
 To hug himself, and say, This is my cuckold ! 
 Nov. But did he not observe thee ? 
 Peri. Though he did, 
 As I am doubtful, I will not desist ; 
 The danger will endear the sport. 
 
 Enter Clarindore. 
 
 Nov. Forbear ; 
 Here's Clarindore. 
 
 Peri. We will be merry with him ; 
 I have heard his entertainment. Join but 
 
 with me, 
 
 And we will jeer this self-opinion 'd fool 
 Almost to madness. 
 
 Nov. He's already grown 
 Exceeding melancholy, and some say 
 That's the first step to frenzy. 
 
 Peri. I'll upon him. 
 Save you, good monsieur ! no reply ? grown 
 
 proud 
 Of your success ? it is not well 
 
 Clar. 'Tis come out ; these goslings 
 Have heard of my 
 
 Nov. We gratulate, 
 
 Though we pay i'or't, your happy entrance to 
 The certain favours, nay, the sure possession, 
 Of madam Bellisant. 
 
 Clar in. The young whelp too ! 
 'Tis well, exceeding well. 
 
 Peri. 'Tis so, with you, sir ; 
 But bear it modestly, faith it will become you: 
 And being arrived at such a lordly revenue, 
 As this your happy match instates you with, 
 Two thousand crowns from me, and from 
 
 Novall, 
 
 Though we almost confess the wager lost, 
 Will be a small addition. 
 
 Nov. You mistake him ; 
 Nor do I fear, out of his noble nature, 
 But that he may be won to license us 
 To draw our venture. 
 
 Clarin. Spend your frothy wits, 
 Do, do ; you snarl, but hurt not. 
 
 Nov. O, give leave 
 To losers for to speak. 
 
 Peri. 'Tis a strange fate 
 Some men are born to, and a happy star 
 That reigned at your nativity ! it could not 
 
 be else, 
 
 A lady of a constancy like a rock, 
 Not to be moved, and held impregnable, 
 Should yield at the first assault ! 
 
 Nov. Tis the reward 
 Of a brave daring spirit. 
 
 Peri. Tush ! we are dull ; 
 Abuse our opportunities. 
 
 Clarin. Have you done yet ? 
 
 Peri. When he had privacy of discourse, 
 
 he knew 
 
 How to use that advantage ; did he stand 
 Fawning, and crouching? no; he ran up 
 
 boldly, 
 
 Told her what she was born to, ruffled her, 
 Kiss'd her, and toused her : all the passages 
 
i 7 6 
 
 THE PARLIAMENT OF LOVE. 
 
 Are at court already ; and, 'tis said, a patent 
 Is granted him, if any maid be chaste, 
 For him to humble 'her, and a new name 
 
 given him, 
 The scornful-virgin tamer. 
 
 Clarin. I may tame 
 Your buffoon tongues, if you proceed. 
 
 Nov. No anger. 
 
 I have heard that Bellisant was so taken with 
 Your manly courage, that she straight pre- 
 pared you 
 A sumptuous banquet. 
 
 Peri. Yet his enemies 
 Report it was a blanket. 
 
 Nov. Malice ! malice ! 
 She was shewing him her chamber too, and 
 
 call'd for 
 Perfumes, and cambric sheets. 
 
 Peri. When, see the luck on't ! 
 Against her will, her most unmannerly 
 
 grooms, 
 For so 'tis rumour'd, took him by the 
 
 shoulders, 
 And thrust him out of doors. 
 
 Nov. Faith, sir, resolve us ; 
 How was it? we would gladly know the truth, 
 To stop the mouth of calumny. 
 
 Clarin. Troth, sir, I'll tell you : 
 One took me by the nose thus, and a second 
 Made bold with me thus but one word 
 
 more, you shall 
 Feel new expressions and so, my gentle 
 
 boobies, 
 Farewell, and be hang'd. [Exit. 
 
 Nov. We have nettled him. 
 
 Peri. Had we stung him to death, it were 
 
 but justice, 
 An overweening braggard ! 
 
 Nov. This is nothing 
 To the doctor's wife. 
 
 Peri. Come, we'll consult of it, 
 And suddenly. 
 
 Nov. I feel a woman's longing 
 Till I am at it. 
 
 Peri. Never fear ; she's thine own, boy. 
 \Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE II. A Street. 
 
 Enter Cleremond. 
 Cler. What have my sins been, heaven ? 
 
 yet thy great pleasure 
 
 Must not be argued. Was wretch ever bound 
 On such a black adventure, in which only 
 To wish to prosper is a greater cm se 
 
 Than to me 
 
 Of reason, understanding, and true ju igment. 
 'Twere a degree of comfort to myse'f 
 I were stark mad ; or, like a beast c f prey, 
 Prick'd on by griping hunger, all my th nights 
 
 And faculties were wholly taken up 
 
 To cloy my appetite, and could look no 
 
 further : 
 
 But I rise up a new example of 
 Calamity, transcending all before me ; 
 And I should gild my misery with false com- 
 forts, 
 
 If I compared it with an Indian slave's, 
 That, with incessant labour to search out 
 Some unknown mine, dives almost to the 
 
 centre ; 
 And, if then found, not thank'd of his proud 
 
 master. 
 
 But this, if put into an equal scale 
 With my unparalleled fortune, will weigh 
 
 nothing ; 
 
 For from a cabinet of the choicest jewels 
 That mankind e'er was rich in, whose least 
 
 gem 
 
 All treasure of the earth, or what is hid 
 In Neptune's watery bosom, cannot pur- 
 chase, 
 
 I must seek out the richest, fairest, purest, 
 And when by proof 'tis known it holds the- 
 
 value, 
 
 As soon as found destroy it. O most cruel ! 
 And yet, when I consider of the many 
 That have professed themselves my friends, 
 
 and vow'd 
 
 Their lives were not their own, when my en- 
 gagements 
 
 Should summon them to be at my devotion, 
 Not one endures the test ; I almost grow 
 Of the world's received opinion, that holds 
 Friendship but a mere name, that binds no- 
 further 
 
 Than to the altar to retire with safety. 
 Here comes Montrose. 
 
 Enter Montrose and Beaupre. 
 
 What sudden joy transports him ? 
 I never saw man rapt so. 
 
 Mon. Purse and all, 
 
 And 'tis too little, though it were cramm'd full 
 With crowns of the sun. O blessed, blessed 
 
 paper ! 
 
 But made so by the touch of her fair hand. 
 What shall I answer ? Say, I am her creature. 
 Or, if thou canst find out a word, that may 
 Express subjection in an humbler style, 
 Use it, I prithee ; add too, her commands 
 Shall be with as much willingness perform'd, 
 As I in this fold, this, receive her favours. 
 
 Beau. I shall return so much. 
 
 Mont. And that two hours 
 Shall bring me to attend her. 
 
 Beau. With all care 
 
 And circumstance of service from yourself, 
 I will deliver it. 
 
THE PARLIAMENT OF LOVE. 
 
 177 
 
 Mont. I am still your debtor. 
 
 \_Exit Beaupre. 
 Cler. I read the cause now clearly ; I'll 
 
 slip by : 
 For though, even at this instant, he should 
 
 prove 
 Himself, which others' falsehood makes me 
 
 doubt, 
 
 That constant and best friend I go in quest of, 
 It were inhuman in their birth to strangle 
 His promising hopes of comfort. 
 
 Mont. Cleremond 
 
 Pass by me as a stranger ! at a time too 
 When I am filled with such excess of joy, 
 So swollen and surfeited with true delight, 
 That had I not found out a friend, to whom 
 I might impart them, and so give them vent, 
 In their abundance they would force a paV 
 
 sage, 
 
 And let out life together ! Prithee, bear, 
 For friendship's sake, a part of that sweet 
 
 burthen 
 Which I shrink under ; and when thou hast 
 
 read 
 Fair Bellisant subscribed, so near my name 
 
 too, 
 Observe but that, thou must, with me, 
 
 confess, 
 
 There cannot be room in one lover's heart 
 Capacious enough to entertain 
 Such multitudes of pleasures. 
 
 Cler. I joy with you, 
 
 Let that suffice, and envy not your blessings ; 
 May they increase ! Farewell, friend. 
 
 Mont. How ! no more ? 
 By the snow white hand that writ these 
 
 characters, 
 
 It is a breach to courtesy and manners, 
 So coldly to take notice of his good, 
 Whom you call friend ! See further : here 
 
 she writes 
 
 That she is truly sensible of my sufferings, 
 And not alone vouchsafes to call me servant, 
 But to employ me in a cause that much 
 Concerns her in her honour ; there's a favour i 
 Are you yet stupid? and that, two hours 
 
 hence, 
 
 She does expect me in the private walks 
 Neighbouring the Louvre : cannot all this 
 
 move you ? 
 
 I could be angry. A tenth of these bounties 
 But promised to you from Leonora, 
 To witness my affection to my friend, 
 In his behalf had taught me to forget, 
 All mine own miseries. 
 
 Cler. Do not misinterpret 
 This coldness in me ; for alas ! Montrose, 
 I am a thing so made up of affliction, 
 So every way contemn'd, that I conclude 
 
 My sorrows are infectious ; and my company, 
 Like such as have foul ulcers running on them, 
 To be with care avoided. M ay your happiness , 
 In the favour of the matchless Bellisant, 
 Hourly increase ! and my best wishes guard 
 
 you ! 
 
 "Tis all that I can give. 
 Mont. You must not leave me. 
 Cler. Indeed I must and will ; mine own 
 
 engagements 
 Call me away. 
 
 Mont. What are they ? I presume 
 There cannot be a secret of that weight, 
 You dare not trust me with ; and should you 
 
 doubt me, 
 
 I justly might complain that my affection 
 Is placed unfortunately. 
 
 Cler. I know you are honest ; 
 And this is such a business, and requires 
 Such sudden execution, that it cannot 
 Fall in the compass of your will, or power, 
 To do me a friend's office. In a word, 
 On terms that near concern me in mine 
 
 honour, 
 
 I am to fight the quarrel, mortal too, 
 The time some two hours hence, the place 
 
 ten miles 
 
 Distant from Paris ; and when you shall know 
 I yet am unprovided qf a second, 
 You will excuse my sudden parting from you. 
 Farewell, Montrose ! 
 
 Mont. Not so ; I am the man 
 Will run the danger with you ; and must 
 
 tell you, 
 
 That, while I live, it was a wrong to seek 
 Another's arm to second you. Lead the way ; 
 My horse stands ready. 
 
 Cler. I confess 'tis noble, 
 For you to offer this, but it were base 
 In me to accept it. 
 Mont. Do not scorn me, friend. 
 Cler. No ; but admire and honour you ; 
 
 and from that 
 
 Serious consideration, must refuse 
 The tender of your aid. France knows you 
 
 valiant, 
 
 And that you might, in single opposition, 
 Fight for a crown ; but millions of reasons 
 Forbid me your assistance. You forget 
 Your own designs ; being, the very minute 
 I am to encounter with mine enemy, 
 To meet your mistress, such a mistress too, 
 Whose favouryou so many years have sought : 
 And will you then, when she vouchsafes 
 
 access, 
 
 Nay more, invites you, check at her fair offer? 
 Or shall it be repeated, to my shame, 
 For my own ends I robb'd you of a fortune 
 Princes might envy ? Can you even hope 
 
 N 
 
I 7 8 
 
 THE PARLIAMENT OF LOVE. 
 
 She ever will receive you to her presence, 
 If you neglect her now? Be wise, dearfriend, 
 And, in your prodigality of goodness, 
 i Do not undo yourself. Live long and happy, 
 ! And leave me to my dangers. 
 
 Mont. Cleremond, 
 
 I have with patience heard you, and con- 
 sider' d 
 The strength of ycur best arguments ; 
 
 weigh'd the dangers 
 I run in mine own fortunes : but again, 
 When I oppose the sacred name of friend 
 Against those joys I have so long pursued, 
 Neither the beauty of fair Bellisant, 
 Her wealth, her virtues, can prevail so far, 
 In such a desperate case- as this, to leave 
 
 you. 
 
 To have it to posterity recorded, 
 At such a time as this I proved true gold, 
 And current in my friendship, shall be to me 
 A thousand mistresses, and such embraces 
 As leave no sting behind them ; therefore, 
 
 on : 
 
 I am resolved, unless you beat me off, 
 I will not leave you. 
 
 Cler. Oh ! here is a jewel 
 Fit for the cabinet of the greatest monarch ! 
 
 But I of all men miserable 
 
 Mont. Come, be cheerful ; 
 Good fortune will attend us. 
 
 Cler. That, to me, 
 
 i To have the greatest blessing, a true friend, 
 . Should be the greatest curse ! Be yet advised. 
 Mont. It is in vain. 
 Cler. That e'er I should have cause 
 To wish you had loved less ! 
 
 A font. The hour draws on : 
 We'll talk more as we ride. 
 
 Cler. Of men most wretched ! [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE III. A Room in Bellisant's House. 
 Enter Bellisant and Beaupre. 
 
 Bell. Nay, pray you, dry your eyes, or 
 
 your sad story, 
 
 Whose every accent still, methinks, I hear, 
 'Twas with such passion, and such grief de- 
 
 liver'd, 
 Will make mine bear yours company. All 
 
 my fear is, 
 
 The rigorous repulse this worst of men, 
 False, perjured Clarindore I am sick to 
 
 name him 
 
 Received at his last visit, will deter him 
 From coming again. 
 
 Beau. No ; he's resolved to venture ; 
 And has bribed me, with hazard of your anger, 
 To get him access, but in anothe'r shape : 
 The time prefix 'd draws near too. 
 
 Bell. 'Tis the better. {Knocking within. 
 One knocks. 
 Beau. I am sure 'tis he. 
 Bell. Convey him in ; 
 But do it with 'a face of fear : 
 
 [Exit Beaupr. 
 
 I cannot 
 
 Resolve yet with what looks to entertain him. 
 You Powers that favour innocence, and 
 
 revenge 
 
 Wrongs done by such as scornfully deride 
 Your awful names, inspire me ! 
 
 [ Walks aside. 
 
 Re-cntcr'Bza.viprewith Clarindore disguised. 
 
 Beau. Sir, I hazard 
 My service, in this action. 
 Clarin. Thou shalt live 
 To be the mistress of thyself and others, 
 If that my projects hit : all's at the stake nowr 
 And as the die falls, I am made most happy, 
 Or past expression wretched. 
 
 Bell. Ha! who's that? 
 What bold intruder usher you? This rude- 
 ness ! 
 From whence ? what would he ? 
 
 BeaUi He brings letters, madam, 
 As he says, from lord Chamont. 
 
 Clarin. How her frowns fright me !* 
 Bell. From lord Chamont ? Are they of 
 
 such import, 
 
 That you, before my pleasure be enquired, 
 Dare bring the bearer to my private chamber ? 
 No more of this : your packet, sir? 
 
 Clarin. The letters 
 Deliver'd to my trust and faith are writ 
 In such mysterious and dark characters, 
 As will require the judgment of your soul, 
 More than your eye, to read and understand 
 
 them. 
 Bell. What riddle's this? [Discovering 
 
 Clarin.] Ha ! am I then contemn'd? 
 Dare you do this, presuming on my soft 
 And gentle nature? Fear not, I must shew 
 A seeming anger. [Aside to Beaupre.} 
 
 What new boist'rous courtship, 
 After your late loose language, and forced 
 
 kiss, 
 
 Come you to practise? I know none be- 
 yond it. 
 
 If you imagine that you may commit 
 A rape in mine own house, and that my 
 servants 
 
 Will stand tame lookers on- 
 
 Clarin. If I bring with me 
 One thought, but of submission and sorrow, 
 Or nourish any hope, but that your goodness 
 May please to sign my pardon, may I perish 
 In your displeasure ! which, to me, is more 
 
THE PARLIAMENT OF LOVE. 
 
 179 
 
 Than fear of hell hereafter. I confess, 
 The violence I offered to your sweetness, 
 In my presumption, with lips impure, 
 To force a touch from yours, a greater crime 
 Than if I should have mix'd lascivious flames 
 With those chaste fires that burn at Dian's 
 
 altar. 
 
 That 'twas a plot of treason to your virtues, 
 To think you could be tempted, or believe 
 You were not fashion'd in a better mould, 
 And made of purer clay, than other women. 
 Since you are, then, the phoenix of your time, 
 And e'en now, while you bless the earth, 
 
 partake 
 
 Of their angelical essence, imitate 
 Heaven's aptness to forgive, when mercy's 
 
 sued for, 
 And once more take me to ycur grace and 
 
 favour. 
 Bell, What charms are these ! What an 
 
 enchanting tongue ! 
 
 What pity 'tis, one that can speak so well, 
 Should, in his actions, be so ill ! 
 
 Beau. Take heed, 
 Lose not yourself. 
 
 Bell. So well, sir, you have pleaded, 
 And like an advocate, in your own cause, 
 That, though your guilt were greater, I ac- 
 quit you, 
 
 The fault no more remember'd ; and for proof, 
 My heart partakes in my tongue, thus seal 
 
 your pardon ; [Kisses him. 
 
 And with this willing favour (which forced 
 
 from me, 
 Call'd on my anger) make atonement with 
 
 you. 
 Clarin. If I dream now, O, may I never 
 
 wake, 
 But slumber thus ten ages ! 
 
 Bell. Till this minute, 
 You ne'er to me look'd lovely. 
 Clarin. How ! 
 Bell. Nor have I 
 
 E'er seen a man, in my opinion, worthy 
 The bounty I vouchsafe you ; therefore fix 
 
 here, 
 
 And make me understand that you can bear 
 Your fortune modestly. 
 
 Clarin. I find her coming : 
 This kiss was but the prologue to the play, 
 And not to seek the rest, were cowardice. 
 Help me, dissimulation ! [Aside.] Pardon, 
 
 madam, 
 Though now, when I should put on cheerful 
 
 looks, 
 
 In being blest with what I durst not hope for, 
 I change the comic scene, and do present 
 
 you 
 With a most tragic spectacle. 
 
 Bell. Heaven avert 
 This prodigy ! What mean you ? 
 
 Clarin. To confirm, 
 
 In death, how truly I have loved. I grant 
 Your favours done me, yield this benefit, 
 As to make way for me to pass in peace 
 To my long rest ; what I have tasted from you, 
 Informs me only of the much I want : 
 For in your pardon, and the kiss vouchsafed 
 
 me, 
 
 You did but point me out a fore-right way 
 To lead to certain happiness, and then will'd 
 
 me 
 To move no further. Pray you, excuse me, 
 
 therefore, 
 
 Though I desire to end a lingering torment. 
 And, if you please, with your fair hand, to. 
 
 make me 
 
 A sacrifice to your chastity, I will meet 
 The instrument you make choice of, with 
 
 more fervour 
 
 Than ever Cassar did, to hug the mistress, 
 He doated on, plumed Victory : but if that 
 You do abhor the office, as too full 
 Of cruelty, and horror, yet give leave, 
 That, in your presence, I myself may be 
 Both priest and offering. {Draws his sword. 
 
 Bell. Hold, hold, frantic man ! 
 The shrine of love shall not be bathed in blood. 
 Women, though fair, were made to bring 
 
 forth men, 
 
 And not destroy them ; therefore, hold, I say ! 
 I had a mother, and she look'd upon me 
 As on a true epitome of her youth : 
 Nor can I think I am forbid the comfort 
 To bring forth little models of myself, 
 If heaven be pleased (my nuptial joys per- 
 
 form'd) 
 To make me fruitful. 
 
 Clarin. Such celestial music 
 Ne'er blest these ears. O ! you have argued 
 
 better 
 For me, than I could for myself. 
 
 Bell. For you ! 
 
 What, did I give you hope to be my husband? 
 
 Clarin. Fallen off again ! [Aside. 
 
 Bell. Yet since you have given sure proof 
 
 Of love and constancy, I'll unmask those 
 
 thoughts, 
 That long have been conceal'd ; I am yours, 
 
 but how ? 
 In an honourable way. 
 
 Clarin. I were more than base, 
 Should I desire you otherwise. 
 
 Bell. True affection 
 
 Needs not a contract : and it were to doubt me, 
 To engage me further ; yet, my vow expired, 
 Which is, to live a virgin for a year, 
 Challenge my promise. 
 
 Kft 
 
i3o 
 
 THE PARLIAMENT OF LOVE. 
 
 Clarin. For a year ! O, madam ! 
 Play not the tyranness ; do not give me hopes, 
 And in a moment change them to despair. 
 A year ! alas, this body, that's all fire, 
 If you refuse to quench it with your favour, 
 Will in three days be cinders ; and your mercy 
 Will come too late then. Dearest lady, 
 
 marriage 
 
 Is but a ceremony ; and a hurtful vow 
 Is in the breach of it better commended, 
 Than in the keeping. O ! I burn, I burn ; 
 And if you take not pity, I must fly 
 To my last refuge. [Offers to stab himself. 
 
 Bell. Hold ! Say I could yield 
 This night, to satisfy you to the full, 
 And you should swear, until the wedding day, 
 To keep the favours I now grant conceal'd ; 
 You would be talking. 
 
 Clarin. May my tongue rot out, then ! 
 
 Bell. Or boast to your companions of 
 
 your conquest, 
 And of my easiness. 
 
 Clarin. I'll endure the rack first. 
 
 Bell. And, having what you long for, cast 
 
 me off, 
 AS you did madam Beaupre*. 
 
 Clarin. May the earth 
 First gape, and swallow me ! 
 
 Bell. I'll press you no further. 
 GO in, your chamber's ready : if you have 
 A bedfellow, so : but silence I enjoin you, 
 And liberty to leave you when I please : 
 I blush, if you reply. 
 
 Clarin. Till now ne'er happy ! [Exit. 
 
 Beau. What means your ladyship ? 
 
 Bell. Do not ask, but do 
 As I direct you : though as yet we tread 
 A rough and thorny way, faint not ; the ends 
 I hope to reach shall make a large amends. 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 SCENE I. A Room in Dinant's House. 
 
 Enter Novall and Dinant. 
 Din. You are welcome first, sir ; and that 
 
 spoke, receive 
 
 A faithful promise, all that art, or long 
 Experience, hath taught me, shall enlarge 
 Themselves for your recovery. 
 
 Nov. Sir, I thank you, 
 As far as a weak, sick, and unable man 
 Has power to express ; but what wants in 
 
 my tongue, 
 
 My hand (for yet my fingers feel no gout) 
 Shall speak in this dumb language. 
 
 [Gives him his purse. 
 Din. You are too magnificent. 
 
 Nov. Fie ! no, sir ; health is, sure, a 
 
 precious jewel, 
 We cannot buy it too dear. 
 Din. Take comfort, sir ; 
 I find not, by your urine, nor your pulse, 
 Or any outward symptom, that you are 
 In any certain danger. 
 
 Nov. Oh ! the more my fear : 
 Infirmities that are known are . 
 
 cured, 
 
 But when the causes of them are conceal'd, 
 As these of mine are, doctor, they prove 
 
 mortal : 
 
 Howe'er, I'll not forget you while I live, 
 Do but your parts. 
 
 Din. Sir, they are at your service. 
 I'll give you some preparatives, to instruct me 
 Of your inward temper ; then, as I find 
 
 cause, 
 Some gentle purge. 
 
 Nov. Yes, I must purge ; I die else : 
 But where, dear doctor, you shall not find 
 
 out. 
 
 This is a happy entrance, may it end well ! 
 I'll mount your nightcap, Doddipol. [Aside. 
 
 Din. In what part, 
 (We are sworn to secrecy, and you must be 
 
 free,) 
 Do you find your greatest agony? 
 
 Nov. Oh ! I have 
 Strange motions on the sudden ; villainous 
 
 tumours, 
 That rise, then fall, then rise again ; oh, 
 
 doctor ! 
 Not to be shewn or named. 
 
 Din. Then, in my judgment, 
 You had best leave Paris : choose some 
 
 fresher air ; 
 That does help much in physic. 
 
 Nov. By no means. 
 Here, in your house, or no where, you must 
 
 cure me : 
 The eye of the master fats the horse ; and 
 
 when 
 
 His doctor's by, the patient may drink wine 
 In a fit of a burning fever : for your presence 
 Works more than what you minister. Take 
 
 physic, 
 Attended on by ignorant grooms, mere 
 
 strangers 
 
 To your directions, I must hazard life, 
 And you your reputation ! whereas, sir, 
 I hold your house a college of your art, 
 And every boy you keep, by you instructed, 
 A pretty piece of a Galenist : then the 
 
 females, 
 From your most fair wife to your kitchen 
 
 drudge, 
 Are so familiar with your learned courses, 
 
THE PARLIAMENT OF LOVE. 
 
 181 
 
 That, to an herb, they know to make thin 
 
 broth ? 
 
 Or, when occasion serves, to cheer the heart, 
 And such ingredient I shall have most need of, 
 How many cocks o' the game make a strong 
 
 cullis, 
 Or pheasant's eggs a caudle. 
 
 Din. I am glad 
 To hear you argue with such strength. 
 
 Enter Clarinda, and whispers Dinant. 
 
 Nov. A flash, sir : 
 But now I feel my fit again. She is 
 Made up of all perfection ; any danger 
 That leads to the enjoying so much sweetness 
 Is pleasure at the height : I am ravish'd with 
 The mere imagination. O happiness ! 
 
 [Aside. 
 Din. How's this ! One from the duke 
 
 Nemours ? 
 Cla. Yes, sir. 
 Din. 'Tis rank : 
 The sight of my wife hath forced him to 
 
 forget 
 
 To counterfeit : [Aside.] I now guess at 
 your sickness, 
 
 And if I fit you not 
 
 Cla. The gentleman stays you. 
 
 Din. I come to him presently ; in the 
 
 meantime, wife, 
 
 Be careful of this monsieur ; nay, no coyness, 
 You may salute him boldly ; his pale lips 
 Enchant not in the touch. 
 Nov. Hers do, I'm sure. 
 Din. Kiss him again. 
 Cla. Sir, this is more than modest. 
 Din. Modest ! why, fool, desire is dead 
 
 in him : 
 
 Call it a charitable, pious work, 
 If it refresh his spirits. 
 
 Nov. Yes, indeed, sir. 
 I find great ease in it. 
 
 Din. Mark that ! and would you 
 Deny a sick man comfort ? meat's against 
 physic, must be granted too, 
 wife . . you shall, 
 In person, wait on him ; nay, hang not off, 
 I say you shall : this night, with your own 
 
 hands, 
 
 I'll have you air his bed, and when he eats 
 Of what you have prepared, you shall sit by 
 
 him, 
 
 And, with some merry chat, help to repair 
 Decayed appetite ; watch by him when he 
 
 slumbers ; 
 Nay, play his page's part : more, I durst 
 
 trust you, 
 
 Were this our wedding day, you yet a virgin, 
 To be his bedfellow ; for well I know 
 
 Old Priam's impotence, or Nestor's hernia is 
 Herculean activeness, if but compared 
 To his debility : put him to his oath, 
 He'll swear he can do nothing. 
 
 Nov. Do ! O no, sir ; 
 I am past the thought of it. 
 Din. But how do you like 
 The method I prescribe? 
 
 Nov. Beyond expression : 
 Upon the mere report I do conceive 
 Hope of recovery. 
 Cla. Are you mad? 
 Din. Peace, fool. 
 This night you shall take a cordial to 
 
 strengthen 
 Your feeble limbs : 'twill cost ten crowns a 
 
 draught. 
 
 Nov. No matter, sir. 
 Din. To-morrow you shall walk 
 To see my garden ; then my wife shall show 
 
 you 
 The choice rooms of my house ; when you' 
 
 are weary, 
 
 Cast yourself on her couch. 
 Nov. Oh, divine doctor ! 
 What man in health would not be sick, on 
 
 purpose 
 To be your patient ? 
 
 Din. Come, sir, to your chamber ; 
 And now I understand where your disease' 
 
 lies, 
 
 (Nay, lead him by the hand,) doubt not I'll 
 cure you. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE II. An open part of the Country 
 near Paris. 
 
 Enter Cleremond and Montrose. 
 
 Cler. This is the place. 
 
 Mont. An even piece of ground, 
 Without advantage ; but be jocund, friend: 
 The honour to have entered first the field, 
 However we come off, is ours. 
 
 Cler. I need not, 
 
 So well I am acquainted with your valour, 
 To dare, in a good cause, as much as man, 
 Lend you encouragement ; and should I add, 
 Your power to do, which Fortune, howe'er 
 
 blind, 
 
 Hath ever seconded, T cannot doubt 
 But victory still sits upon your sword, 
 And must not now forsake you. 
 
 Mont. You shall see me 
 Come boldly up ; nor will I shame your 
 
 cause, 
 By parting with an inch of ground not 
 
 bought 
 With blood on my part. 
 
 Cler. Tis not to be question'd : 
 
i8a 
 
 THE PARLIAMENT OF LOVE. 
 
 That which I would entreat, (and pray you 
 
 grant it,) 
 
 Is, that you would forget your usual softness, 
 Your foe being at your mercy ; it hath been 
 A custom in you, which I dare not praise, 
 Having disarm'd your enemy of his sword, 
 To tempt your fate, by yielding it again ; 
 Then run a second hazard. 
 
 Mont. When we encounter 
 A noble foe, we cannot be too noble. 
 
 Cler. That I confess ; but he that's now 
 
 to oppose you, 
 
 1 know for an archvillain ; one that hath lost 
 All feeling of humanity, one that hates 
 Goodness in others, 'cause he's ill himself ; 
 A most ungrateful wretch, (the name's too 
 
 gentle, 
 All attributes of wickedness cannot reach 
 
 him,) 
 
 Of whom to have deserved, beyond example, 
 Or precedent of friendship, is a wrong 
 Which only death can satisfy. 
 
 Mont. You describe 
 A monster to me. 
 
 Cler. True, Montrose, he is so. 
 Afric, though fertile of strange prodigies, 
 Never produced his equal ! be wise, therefore, 
 And if he fall into your hands, dispatch him : 
 Pity to him is cruelty. The sad father, 
 That sees his son stung by a snake to death, 
 May, with more justice, stay his vengeful 
 
 hand, 
 
 And let the worm escape, than you vouch- 
 safe him 
 
 A minute to repent : for 'tis a slave 
 So sold to hell and mischief ; that a traitor 
 To his most lawful prince, a church-robber, 
 A parricide, who, when his garners are 
 Cramm'd with the purest grain, suffers his 
 
 parents, 
 Beinsr old, and weak, to starve for want of 
 
 bread ; 
 Compared to him, are innocent. 
 
 Mont. I ne'er heard 
 Of such a cursed nature ; if long-lived, 
 He would infect mankind : rest you aspired, 
 He finds from me small courtesy. 
 
 Cler. And expect 
 As little from him : blood is that he thirsts 
 
 for, 
 Not honourable wounds. 
 
 Mont. I would I had him 
 Within my sword's length ! 
 
 Cler. Have thy wish : Thou hast ! 
 
 [Cleremond draws his sword. 
 Nay, draw thy sword, and suddenly ; I am 
 That monster, temple-robber, parricide, 
 Ingrateful wretch ; friend-hater, or what else 
 Makes up the perfect figure of the devil, 
 
 Should he appear like man. Banish amaze- 
 ment, 
 
 And call thy ablest spirits up to guard thee 
 From him that's turn'd a Fury. I am made 
 Her minister, whose cruelty but named. 
 Would with more horror strike the pale- 
 
 cheek'd stars, 
 
 Than all those dreadful words which con- 
 jurers use, 
 To fright their damn'd familiars. Look not 
 
 on me 
 
 As I am Cleremond ; I have parted with 
 The essence that was his, and entertain 'd 
 The soul of some fierce tigress, or a wolf's 
 Xew-hang'd for human slaughter, and 'tis fit: 
 I could not else be an apt instrument 
 To bloody Leonora. 
 
 Mont. To my knowledge 
 I never wrong 'd her. 
 
 Cler. Yes, in being a friend 
 To me she hated, my best friend ; her malice 
 Would look no lower : and for being such , 
 By her commands, Montrose, I am to kill 
 
 thee. 
 Oh, that thou hadst, like others, been all 
 
 words, 
 And no performance ! or that thou hadst 
 
 made 
 
 Some little stop in thy career of kindness ! 
 Why would'st thou, to confirm the name of 
 
 friend, 
 
 Despise the favours of fair Bellisant, 
 And all those certain joys that waited for 
 
 thee? 
 
 Snatch at this fatal offer of a second, 
 Which others fled from? 'Tis in vain to 
 
 mourn now, 
 When there's no help ; and therefore, good 
 
 Montrose, 
 Rouse thy most manly parts, and think thou 
 
 stand'st now 
 
 A champion for more than king or country ; 
 Since, in thy fall, goodness itself must suffer. 
 Remember too, the baseness of the wrong 
 
 . friendship ; let it edge thy sword, 
 And kill compassion in thee ; and fo'rge: not 
 I will take all advantages : and so, 
 Without reply have at thee ! 
 
 [They fight. Cleremond falls. 
 Mont. See, how weak 
 An ill cause is ! you are already fallen : 
 W T hat can you look for now ? 
 
 Cler. Fool, use thy fortune : 
 And so he counsels thee, that, if we had 
 Changed places, instantly would have cut 
 
 thy throat, 
 
 Or digg'd thy heart out. 
 Mont. In requital of 
 | That savage purpose, I must pity you ; 
 
THE PARLIAMENT OF LOVE. 
 
 Witness these tears, not tears of joy for con- 
 quest, 
 
 But of true sorrow for your misery. 
 Live, O live, Cleremond, 'and, like a man, 
 Make use of reason, as an exorcist 
 To cast this devil out, that does abuse you ; 
 This fiend of false affection. 
 
 Cler. Will you not kill me ? 
 You are then more tyrannous than Leonora. 
 An easy thrust will do it : you had ever 
 A charitable hand ; do not deny me, 
 For our old friendship's sake : no ! will 't 
 
 not be ? 
 
 There are a thousand doors to let out life ; 
 You keep not guard of all : and I shall find, 
 By falling headlong from some rocky cliff, 
 Poison, or fire, that long rest which your 
 
 sword 
 Discourteously denies me. [Exit. 
 
 Mont. I will follow ; 
 And something I must fancy, to dissuade 
 
 him 
 
 From doing sudden violence on himself : 
 That's now my only aim ; and that to me, 
 Succeding well, is a true victory. [Exit. 
 
 SCENE III. Paris. An outer Room in 
 
 Chamont's Hoiise. 
 
 Enter Chamont disguised, and Dinant. 
 Din. Your lady tempted too ! 
 Cham. And tempted home ; 
 Summon'd to parley, the fort almost yielded, 
 Had not I stepp'd in to remove the siege : 
 But I have countermined his works, and if 
 You second me, will blow the letcher up, 
 And laugh to see him caper. 
 
 Din. Anything : 
 Command me as your servant, to join with 
 
 you ; 
 
 All ways are honest we take, to revenge us 
 On these lascivious monkies of the court, 
 That make it their profession to dishonour 
 Grave citizens' wives ; nay, those of higher 
 
 rank, 
 As 'tis, in yours, apparent. My young 
 
 rambler, 
 That thought to cheat me with a feign'd 
 
 disease, 
 
 I have in the toil already ; I have given him, 
 Under pretence to make him high and active, 
 A cooler : I dare warrant it will yield 
 Rare sport to see it work ; I would your lord- 
 ship 
 Could be a spectator. 
 
 Cham. It is that I aim at : 
 And might I but persuade you to dispense 
 A little with your candour, and consent 
 To make your house the stage, on which 
 we'll act 
 
 A comic scene ; in the pride of all their hopes, 
 We'll show these shallow fools sunk-eyed 
 
 despair, 
 And triumph in their punishment. 
 
 Din. My house, 
 
 Or whatsoever else is mine, shall serve 
 As properties to grace it. 
 
 Cham. In this shape, then, 
 Leave me to work the rest. 
 
 Din. Doubt not, my lord, 
 You shall find all things ready. [Exit. 
 
 Enter Perigot. 
 
 Cham. This sorts well 
 With my other purposes. Perigot ! to my | 
 
 wish. 
 Aid me, invention ! 
 
 Peri. Is the quean fallen off? 
 I hear not from her? 'tis the hour and place 
 That she appointed. 
 
 What have we here? This fellow has a 
 pimp's face, 
 
 And looks as if he were her call, her fetch ' 
 
 With me? 
 
 Cham. Sir, from the party, 
 The lady you should truck with, the lord's 
 
 wife 
 
 Your worship is to dub, or to make free 
 Of the company of the horners. 
 
 Peri. Fair Lamira? 
 
 Cham. The same, sir. 
 
 Peri. And how, my honest squire o' 
 
 dames? I see 
 Thou art of her privy council. 
 
 Cham. Her grant holds, sir. 
 
 Peri. O rare ! But when ? 
 
 Cham. Marry, instantly. 
 
 Peri. But where? 
 
 Cham. She hath outgone the cunning of 
 
 a woman, 
 
 In ordering it both privately and securely : 
 You know Dinant, the doctor? 
 
 Peri. Good. 
 
 Cham. His house 
 
 And him s'he has made at her devotion, sir. 
 Nay, wonder not ; most of these empirics 
 Thrive better by connivance in such cases, 
 Than their lame practice ; framing some dis- 
 temper, 
 The fool, her lord 
 
 Peri. Lords may be what they please ; 
 I question not their patent. 
 
 Cham. Hath consented, 
 That this night, privately, she shall take a 
 
 clyster ; 
 
 Which he believes the doctor ministers, 
 And never thinks of you. 
 
 Peri. A good wench still. 
 
 Cham. And there, without suspicion 
 
i8 4 
 
 THE PARLIAMENT OF LOVE. 
 
 Peri. Excellent! 
 I make this lord my cuckold ? 
 
 Cham. True ; and write 
 The reverend drudging doctor, my copartner, 
 And fellow bawd : next year we will have 
 
 him warden 
 Of our society. 
 
 Peri. There ! there ! I shall burst, 
 I am so swollen with pleasure ; no more 
 
 talking, 
 Dear keeper of the vaulting door ; lead on. 
 
 Cham. Charge you as boldly. 
 
 Peri. Do not fear ; I have 
 A staff to taint, and bravely. 
 
 Cham. Save the splinters, 
 If it break in the encounter. 
 
 Peri. Witty rascal ! - [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE IV. A room in Bellisant's House. 
 Enter Clarindore, Bellisant, and Beaupre". 
 
 Clarin. Boast of your favours, madam ! 
 
 Bell. Pardon, sir, 
 
 My fears, since it is grown a general custom, 
 In our hot youth, to keep a catalogue 
 Of conquests this way got ; nor do they think 
 Their victory complete, unless they publish, 
 To their disgrace, that are made captives to 
 
 them, 
 How far they have prevail'd. 
 
 Clarin. I would have such rascals 
 First gelded, and then hang'd. 
 
 Bell. Remember too, sir, 
 To what extremities your love had brought 
 
 you ; 
 And, since I saved your life, I may, with 
 
 justice, 
 By silence charge you to preserve mine 
 
 honour ; 
 
 Which, howsoever to my conscious self 
 I am tainted, foully tainted, to the world 
 I am free from all suspicion. 
 
 Clarin. Can you think 
 I'll do myself that wrong? although I had 
 A lawyer's mercenary tongue, still moving, 
 . le this precious carcanet, these jewels, 
 . of your magnificence, would keep me 
 A Pythagorean, and ever silent. 
 No, rest secure, sweet lady ; and excuse 
 My sudden and abrupt departure from you : 
 And if the fault makes forfeit of your grace, 
 A quick return shall ransome and redeem it. 
 
 Bell. Be mindful of your oaths. 
 
 [ Walks aside with Beaupre. 
 
 Clarin. I am got off. 
 
 And leave the memory of them behind me. 
 Now, if I can find out my scoffing gulls, 
 Novalland Perigot, besides my wager, 
 Which is already sure, I shall return 
 
 i 
 
 Their bitter jests, and wound them with my 
 
 tongue, 
 Much deeper than my sword. Oh ! but the 
 
 oaths 
 
 I have made to the contrary, and her credit, 
 Of which I should be tender : tush ! both 
 
 hold 
 
 With me an equal value. The wise sa) r , 
 That the whole fabric of a woman's lighter 
 Than wind or feathers : what is then her 
 
 fame? 
 
 A kind of nothing ; not to be preserved 
 With the loss of so much money : 'tis sound 
 
 doctrine 
 And I will follow it. [Exit. 
 
 Bell. Prithee, be not doubtful ; 
 Let the wild colt run his course. 
 
 Beau. I must confess 
 
 I cannot sound the depth of what you pur- 
 pose, 
 
 But I much fear 
 
 Bell. That he will blab ; I know it, 
 And that a secret scalds him : that he suffers 
 Till he hath vented what I seem to wish 
 He should conceal ; but let him, I am 
 
 arm'd for't. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE V. A Room in Dinant's House. 
 
 Enter Chamont, Dinant, Lamira, Clarinda, 
 and Servants. 
 
 Cham. For Perigot, he's in the toil ne'er 
 
 doubt it. " 
 O, had you seen how his veins swell'd with 
 
 lust, 
 When I brought him to the chamber ! how 
 
 he gloried, 
 And stretch 'd his limbs, preparing them for 
 
 action ; 
 
 And, taking me to be a pander, told me 
 'Twas more delight to have a lord his cuckold, 
 Than to enjoy my lady ! there I left him 
 In contemplation, greedily expecting 
 Lamira's presence ; but, instead of her, 
 
 I have prepared him other visitants. 
 
 You know what you have to do? 
 
 1 Serv. Fear not, my lord, 
 
 He shall curvet, I warrant him, in a blanket. 
 
 2 Serv. We'll discipline him with dog- 
 whips, and take off 
 
 His rampant edge. 
 
 Cham. His life ; save that remember, 
 You cannot be too cruel. 
 
 Din. For his pupil, 
 My wife's Inamorato, if cold weeds, 
 Removed but one degree from deadly poison, 
 Have not forgot their certain operation, 
 You shall see his courage cool'd ; and in 
 that temper, 
 
THE PARLIAMENT OF LOVE. 
 
 185 
 
 Till he have howl'd himself into my pardon, 
 I vow to keep him. 
 
 Nov. [within.'] Ho, doctor! masterdoctor ! 
 
 Din. The game's afoot ; we will let slip : 
 
 conceal 
 Yourselves a little. [Exeunt all but Dinant. 
 
 Enter Novall. 
 
 Nov. Oh ! a thousand agues 
 Play at barley-break in my bones ; my blood's 
 
 a pool 
 
 On the sudden frozen, and the isicles 
 Cut every vein : 'tis here, there, everywhere ; 
 Oh dear, dear, master doctor ! 
 
 Din. I must seem 
 
 Not to understand him ; 'twill increase his 
 
 torture. {Aside. 
 
 How do you, sir? has the potion wrought? 
 
 do you feel 
 
 An alteration? have your swellings left you? 
 Is your blood still rebellious ? 
 
 Nov. Oh, good doctor, 
 I am a ghost ! I have nor flesh, nor blood, 
 Nor heat, nor warmth, about me. 
 
 Din. Do not dissemble ; 
 I know you are high and jovial. 
 
 Nov. Jovial ! doctor ; 
 No, I am all amort, as if I had lain 
 Three days in my grave already. 
 
 Din. I will raise you : 
 For, look you, sir, you are a liberal patient, 
 Nor must I, while you can be such, part with 
 
 you; 
 'Tis against the laws of our college. Pray 
 
 you, mark me ; 
 
 I have with curiosity consider 'd 
 Your constitution to be hot and moist, 
 And that at your nativity Jupiter 
 And Venus were in conjunction, w r hence it 
 
 follows, 
 
 By necessary consequence, you must be 
 A most insatiate letcher. 
 
 Nov. Oh ! I have been, 
 I have been, I confess : but now I cannot 
 Think of a woman. 
 
 Din. For your health you must, sir, 
 Both think, and see, and touch ; you're but 
 a dead man else. 
 
 Nov. That way, I am already. 
 
 Din. You must take, 
 And suddenly ('tis a conceal'd receipt), 
 A buxom, juicy wench. 
 
 Nov. Oh ! 'twill not down, sir ; 
 I have no swallow for't. 
 
 Din. Now, since I would 
 Have the disease as private as the cure, 
 (For 'tis a secret,) I have wrought my wife 
 To be both physic and physician, 
 To give you ease : will you walk to her ? 
 
 Nov. Oh! doctor, 
 
 I cannot stand ; in every sense about me 
 I have the palsy, but my tongue. 
 
 Din. Nay then, 
 
 You are obstinate, and refuse my gentle offer; 
 Or else 'tis foolish modesty : Come hither; 
 Come, my Clarinda, 
 
 Re-enter Clarinda. 
 
 'tis not common courtesy ; 
 Comfort the gentleman. 
 Nov. This is ten times worse. 
 Cham, [within.'] He does torment hirm 
 
 rarely. 
 
 Din. She is not coy, sir. 
 What think you, is not this a pretty foot, 
 And a clean instep ? I will leave the calf 
 For you to find and judge of : here's a hand 
 
 too; 
 
 Try it, the palm is moist ; the youthful blood 
 Runs strong in every azure vein : the face too 
 Ne'er knew the help of art ; and, all together, 
 May serve the turn, after a long sea-voyage, 
 For the captain's self. 
 
 Nov. I am a swabber, doctor, 
 A bloodless swabber ; have not strength 
 
 enough 
 To cleanse her poop. 
 
 Din. Fie ! you shame yourself, 
 And the profession of your rutting gallants, 
 That hold their doctors' wives as free for 
 
 them, 
 
 As some of us do our apothecaries' ! 
 Nov. Good sir, no more. 
 Din. Take her aside ; cornute me ; 
 I give you leave : what should a quacksalve, 
 A fellow that does deal with drugs, as I do, 
 That has not means to give her choice of 
 
 gowns, 
 
 Jewels, and rich embroidered petticoats, 
 Do with so fair a bedfellow? she being- 
 
 fashion'd 
 To purge a rich heir's reins, to be tha 
 
 mistress 
 
 Of a court gallant ? Did you not tell her so ? 
 Nov. I have betray'd myself ! I did, I did. 
 Din. And that rich merchants, advocates, . 
 
 and doctors, 
 
 Howe'er deserving from the commonwealth,.. 
 On forfeit of the city's charter, were 
 Predestined cuckolds ? 
 
 Nov. Oh, some pity, doctor ! 
 I was an heretic, but now converted. 
 Some little, little respite ! 
 Din. No, you town-bull ; 
 
 venge all good men's wrongs, 
 And now will play the tyrant. To dissect 
 
 thee, 
 Eat thy flesh off with burning corrosives, 
 
.186 
 
 THE PARLIAMENT OF LOVE. 
 
 \ Or write with aquafortis in thy forehead, 
 Thy last intent to wrong my bed, were justice ; 
 And to do less were foolish pity in me : 
 I speak it, ribald ! 
 
 Nov. Perigot ! Perigot ! 
 Woe to thy cursed counsel. 
 
 Re-enter Chamont and Lamira. 
 
 Cham. Perigot ! 
 
 Did he advise you to this course ? 
 Nan. He did. 
 
 Cham. And he has his reward for't. 
 Peri. \within.\ Will you murder me ! 
 Serv. \withinA Once more, aloft with him. 
 Peri, [within.} Murder! murder! murder! 
 
 Re-enter Serv ante, with Perigot in a blanket. 
 
 Cham. What conceal'd bake-meats have 
 
 you there ? a present ? 
 Is it goat's flesh ? It smells rank. 
 
 i Serv. We have had 
 Sweet work of it, my lord. 
 
 !2 Serv. I warrant you 'tis tender, 
 It wants no cooking ; yet, if you think fit, 
 j We'll bruise it again. 
 
 Peri. As you are Christians, spare me ! 
 i I am jelly within already, and without 
 I Embroidered all o'er with statute lace. 
 What would you more ? 
 
 Nov. My tutor in the gin, too ! 
 1 This is some comfort : he is as good as 
 
 drench'd ; 
 And now we'll both be chaste. 
 
 Cham. What, is't a cat 
 You have encounter'd, monsieur, you are 
 
 scratch'd so? 
 
 j My lady, sure, forgot to pare her nails, 
 i Be'fore your soft embraces. 
 
 Din. He has ta'en great pains : 
 . What a sweat he's in ! 
 
 Cham. O ! he's a master-dancer, 
 ; Knows how to caper into a lady's favour : 
 One lofty trick more, dear monsieur. 
 
 Nov. That I had 
 But strength enough to laugh at him 
 
 blanketted like a dog, 
 And like a cut-purse whipt ! I am sure thai 
 
 now, 
 He cannot jeer me. 
 
 Peri. May not a man have leave 
 To hang himself ! 
 
 Cham. Xo ; that were too much mercy. 
 Live to be wretched ; live to be the talk 
 Of the conduit, and the bakehouse. I wil 
 
 have thee 
 
 Pictured as thou art now, and thy whole story 
 Sung to some villainous tune in alewd ballad' 
 And make thee so notorious to the world, 
 
 That boys in the streets shall hoot at thee : 
 
 come, Lamira, 
 And triumph o'er him. Dost thou see this 
 
 lady, 
 My wife, whose honour foolishly thou 
 
 thought's! 
 To undermine, and make a servant to 
 Thy brutish lusts, laughing at thy affliction? 
 And, as a sign she scorns thee, set her foot 
 Upon thy head? Do so : 'Sdeath ! but 
 
 resist, 
 Once more you caper. 
 
 Peri. I am at the s:ake, 
 And must endure it. 
 Cham. Spurn him, too. 
 Lam. Troth, sir, 
 I do him too much grace. 
 
 Cham. Now, as a schoolboy 
 Does kiss the rod that gave him chastisement, 
 To prove thou art a slave, meet, with thy lips, 
 This instrument that corrects thee. 
 Peri. Have you done yet ? 
 Din. How like a pair of crest-fallen jades 
 
 they look now ! 
 
 Cla. They are not worth our scorn. 
 Peri. O pupil, pupil ! 
 Nov. Tutor, I am drench'd : let us con- 
 dole together. 
 Cham. And where's the tickling itch now, 
 
 my dear monsieur, 
 
 To say, This lord's my cuckold! I am tired: 
 That we had fresh dogs to hunt them ! 
 
 Enter Clarindore. 
 Clarin. ....... 
 
 I am acquainted with the story ; 
 The doctor's man has told me all. 
 
 Din. Upon them. 
 
 Peri. Clarindore ! worst of all : for him 
 
 to know this, 
 Is a second blanketting to me. 
 
 Nov. I again 
 Am drench'd to look on him. 
 
 Clarin. How is't? nay, bear up ; 
 You that commend adultery, I am glad 
 To see it thrive, so well. Fie, Perigot ! 
 Dejected? Haply thou wouldst have us 
 
 think, 
 
 This is the first time that thou didst curvet. 
 And come aloft in a blanket. By St. Dennis ! 
 Here are shrewd scratches too; but nothing to 
 A man of resolution, whose shoulders 
 Are of themselves armour of proof, against 
 A bastinado, and will tire ten beadles. 
 
 Peri. Mock on ; know no mercy. 
 
 Clarin. Thrifty young men ! 
 What a charge is saved in wenching ! and 
 'tis timely 
 
THE PARLIAMENT OF LOVE. 
 
 187 
 
 A certain wager of three thousand crowns 
 Is lost, and must be paid, my pair of puppies: 
 The coy dame, Bellisant, hath stoop'd ! bear 
 
 witness 
 
 This chain and jewels you have seen her wear. 
 The fellow, that her grooms kick'd down 
 
 the stairs, 
 
 Hath crept into her bed ; and, to assure you 
 There's no deceit, she shall confess so much, 
 I have enjoy'd her. 
 
 Cham. Are you serious ? 
 Clarin. Yes, and glory in it. 
 
 Cham. Nay then, give over fooling. 
 
 Thou liest, and art a villain, a base villain, 
 To slander her. 
 
 Clarin. You are a lord, and that 
 Bids me forbear you ; but I will make good 
 Whatever I have said. 
 
 Cham. I'll not lose time 
 To change words with thee. The king hath 
 
 ordain'd 
 
 .A Parliament of Love to right her wrongs, 
 To which I summon thee. [Exit. 
 
 Clarin. Your worst : I care not. Fare- 
 well, babions ! [Exit. 
 Din. Here was a sudden change ! 
 :Nay, you must quit my house : shog on, 
 
 kind patient, 
 
 And, as you like my physic, when you are 
 Rampant again, you know I have that can 
 
 cool you. 
 Nay, monsieur Perigot, help your pupil off 
 
 too, 
 
 Your counsel broughthim on. Ha ! no reply? 
 Are you struck dumb? If you are wrong'd, 
 
 complain. 
 
 Peri. We shall find friends to right us. 
 Din. And I justice, 
 
 The cause being heard ; I ask no more. 
 Hence ! vanish ! \Exeunt. 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 SCENE I. A Court of Justice. 
 Enter Chamont, Philamour, and Lafort. 
 
 Phil. Montrose slain ! and by Cleremond ! 
 
 Cham. 'Tis too true. 
 
 Laf. But wondrous strange, that any dif- 
 ference, 
 
 Especially of such a deadly nature, 
 Should e'er divide so eminent a friendship. 
 
 Phil. The miracle is greater, that a lady, 
 His most devoted mistress, Leonora, 
 Against the usual softness of her sex, 
 :Should with such violence and heat pursue 
 Her amorous servant ; since I'm inform 'd 
 That he was apprehended by her practice, 
 
 And, when he comes t6 trial for his life, 
 She'll rise up his accuser. 
 
 Cham. So 'tis rumour'd : 
 And that's the motive that young Cleremond 
 Makes it his humble suit, to have his cause 
 Decided in the Parliament of Love ; 
 For he pretends the bloody quarrel grew 
 From grounds that claim a reference to that 
 
 place : 
 
 Nor fears he, if you grant him equal hearing, 
 But, with unanswerable proof, to render 
 The cruel Leonora tainted with 
 A guilt beyond his. 
 
 Laf. The king is acquainted 
 Already with the accident ; besides, 
 He hath vouchsafed to read divers petitions 
 Preferr'd on' several causes ; one against 
 Monsieur Dinant, his doctor, by Novall ; 
 A second, in which madam Bellisant 
 Complains 'gainst Clarindore ; there is a 
 
 bill too, 
 
 Brought in by Perigot, against your lordship ; 
 All which, in person, he resolves to hear, 
 Then, as a judge, to censure. 
 
 \Aflourish -within. 
 
 Phil. See the form ! 
 Choice musick ushers him. 
 
 Cham. Let us meet the troop, 
 And mix with them. 
 
 Phil. 'Twill poize your expectation. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 Loud Music. Enter Charles followed by 
 Orleans, Nemours, Chamont, Lafort, and 
 Philamour. A Priest with the image of 
 Cupid : then enter Cleremond, Clarin- 
 dore, Perigot, Novall, Bellisant, Leonora, 
 Beaupre, Lamira, Clarinda, and Officers. 
 Montrose is brought forward on a bier, 
 and placed before the bar. 
 
 Char. Let it not seem a wonder, nor beget 
 An ill opinion in this fair assembly, 
 That here I place this statue ; 'tis not done, 
 Upon the forfeit of our grace, that you 
 Should, with a superstitious reverence, 
 Fall down and worship it : nor can it be 
 Presumed, we hope, young Charles, that 
 
 justly holds 
 
 The honour'd title of most Christian King, 
 Would ever nourish such idolatrous thoughts. 
 'Tis rather to instruct deceived mankind, 
 How much pure Love, that has his birth in 
 
 heaven, 
 
 And scorns to be received a guest, but in 
 A noble heart prepared to entertain him, 
 Is, by the gross misprision of weak men, 
 Abused and injured. That celestial fire, 
 Which hieroglyphically is described 
 In this his bow, his quiver, and his torch, 
 
i88 
 
 THE PARLIAMENT OF LOVE. 
 
 First warm'd their bloods, and after gave a 
 
 name 
 
 To the old heroic spirits : such as Orpheus, 
 That drew men, differing little then from 
 
 beasts, 
 
 To civil government ; or famed Alcides, 
 The tyrant-queller, that refused the plain 
 And easy path leading to vicious pleasures, 
 And ending in a precipice deep as hell, 
 To scale the ragged cliff, on whose firm top 
 Virtue and Honour, crown'd with wreaths 
 
 of stars, 
 
 Did sit triumphant. But it will be answer'd, 
 (The world decaying in her strength,) that 
 
 now 
 
 We are not equal to those ancient times, 
 And therefore 'twere impertinent and tedious 
 To cite more precedents of that reverend age, 
 But rather to endeavour, as we purpose, 
 To give encouragement, by reward, to such 
 As with their best nerves imitate that old 
 
 goodness ; 
 
 And, with severe correction, to reform 
 The modern vices. Begin ; read the bills. 
 Peri. Let mine be first, my lord ; 'twas 
 
 first preferr'd. 
 Bell. But till my cause be heard, our 
 
 whole sex suffers 
 
 Off. Back ! keep back, there \ 
 Nov. Prithee, gentle officer, 
 Handle me gingerly, or I fall to pieces, 
 Before I can plead mine. 
 Peri. I am bruised 
 Omnes. Justice ! justice ! 
 Char. Forbear these clamours, you shall 
 
 all be heard : 
 And, to confirm I am no partial judge, 
 
 By lottery decide it ; here's no favour. 
 
 Whose bill is first, Lafort? 
 
 \The names are drawn. 
 Laf. Tis Cleremond's. 
 Char. The second? 
 Laf. Perigot's ; the third Novall's. 
 Nov. Our cases are both lamentable, tutor. 
 Peri. And I am glad they shall be heard 
 
 together ; 
 
 We cannot stand asunder. 
 Char. What's the last ? 
 Laf. The injured lady Bellisant's. 
 Char. To the first, then ; 
 And so proceed in order. 
 Phil. Stand to the bar. 
 
 [Cler. comes forward. 
 Leon. Speak, Cleremond, thy grief, as I 
 
 will mine. 
 Peri. A confident little pleader 1 were I in 
 
 case, 
 
 I would give her a double fee. 
 Nov. So would I, tutor. 
 
 Off. Silence ! silence ! 
 Cler. Should I rise up to plead my inno- 
 cence, 
 
 Though, with the favour of the court, I stood 
 Acquitted to the world, yea, though the 
 
 wounds 
 Of my dead friend, (which, like so many 
 
 mouths 
 With bloody tongues, cry out aloud against 
 
 me,) 
 
 By your authority, were closed ; yet here, 
 A not to be corrupted judge, my conscience, 
 Would not alone condemn me, but inflict 
 Such lingering tortures on me, as the hang- 
 man, 
 
 Though witty in his malice, could not equal. 
 I therefore do confess a guilty cause, 
 Touching the fact, and, uncompell'd, ac- 
 knowledge 
 
 Myself the instrument of a crime the sun, 
 Hiding his face in a thick mask of clouds, 
 As frighted with the horror, durst not look on. 
 But if your laws with greater rigour punish 
 Such as invent a mischief, than the organs 
 By whom 'tis put in act, (they truly being 
 The first great wheels by which the lesser 
 
 move, ) 
 
 Then stand forth, Leonora; and I'll prove 
 The white robe of my innocence tainted with 
 But one black spot of guilt, and even that one 
 By thy hand cast on me ; but thine, dyed o'er, 
 Ten times ingrain, in hell's most ugly colours. 
 Leon. The fellow is distracted : see how 
 
 he raves ! 
 
 Now as I live, if detestation of 
 His baseness would but give me leave, I should 
 Begin to pity him. 
 
 Cler. Frontless impudence, 
 And not to be replied be ! Sir, to you, 
 And these subordinate ministers of yourself, 
 I turn my speech,: to her I do repent 
 I e'er vouchsafed a syllable. My birth 
 Was noble as 'tis ancient, nor let it relish 
 Of arrogance, to say my father's care, 
 With curiousness and cost, did train me up 
 In all those liberal qualities that commend 
 A gentleman : and when the tender down 
 Upon my chin told me I was a man, 
 I came to court ; there youth, ease, and ex- 
 ample, 
 
 First made me feel the pleasing pangs of love : 
 And there I saw this woman ; saw, and loved 
 
 her 
 With more than common ardour : for that 
 
 deity, 
 
 (Such our affection makes him,) whose dread 
 power 
 
 . the choicest arrow, headed with 
 
THE PARLIAMENT OF LOVE. 
 
 189 
 
 Not loose but loyal flames, which aim'd at 
 
 me, 
 Who came with greedy haste to meet the 
 
 shaft, 
 
 . ing, that my captive heart was made 
 Love's divine artillery, 
 . preserved . . no relation. 
 But the shot made at her was not, like mine, 
 Of gold, nor of pale lead that breeds disdain ; 
 Cupid himself disclaims it : I think rather, 
 As by the sequel 'twill appear, some Fury 
 From burning Acheron snatch'd a sulphur 
 
 brand, 
 That smoak'd with hate, the parent of red 
 
 murder, 
 
 And threw it in her bosom. Pardon me, 
 Though 'I dwell long upon the cause that did 
 Produce such dire effects ; and, to omit, ' 
 For your much patience' sake, the cunning 
 
 trap 
 In which she caught me, and, with horrid 
 
 oaths, 
 Embark 'd me in a sea of human blood, 
 
 I come to the last scene 
 
 Leon. 'Tis time ; for this 
 Grows stale and tedious. 
 
 Cler. When, I say, she had, 
 To satisfy her fell rage, as a penance, 
 Forced me to this black deed, her vow, too, 
 
 given, 
 That I should marry her, and she conceal 
 
 me ; 
 When to her view I brought the slaughter'd 
 
 body 
 Of my dear friend, and labour 'd with my 
 
 tears 
 
 To stir compunction in her, aided too 
 By the sad object, which might witness for 
 
 me, 
 
 At what an over-rate I had made purchase 
 Of her long-wish'd embraces ; then, great 
 
 sir, 
 
 But that I had a mother, and there may be 
 Some two or three of her . . . sex 
 
 less faulty, 
 
 I should affirm she was the perfect image 
 Of the devil, her tutor, that had left hell empty, 
 To dwell in wicked woman. 
 Leon. Do ; rail on. 
 Cler. For not alone she gloried in my 
 
 sufferings, 
 Forswore what she had vow'd, refused to 
 
 touch me, 
 
 Much less to comfort me, or give me harbour ; 
 But, instantly, ere I could recollect 
 My scatter'd sense, betray'd me to your 
 
 justice, 
 
 Which I submit to ; hoping, in yourwisdom, 
 That as, in me, you lop a limb of murder, 
 
 You will, in her, grub up the root. I have 
 
 said, sir. 
 Leon. Much, I confess, but much to little 
 
 purpose. 
 
 And though, with your rhetorical flourishes, 
 You strive to gild a rotten cause, the touch 
 Of reason, fortified by truth, delivered 
 From my unletter'd tongue, shall shew it 
 
 dust; 
 
 And so to be contemn' d : Youhavetrimm'dup 
 All your deservings, should I grant them 
 
 such, 
 
 With more care than a maiden of threescore 
 Does hide her wrinkles, which, if she en- 
 counter 
 
 The rain, the wind, or sun, the paint wash'd off, 
 Are to dim eyes discover'd. I forbear 
 The application, and in a plain style 
 Come roundly to the matter. 'Tis confess 'd, 
 This pretty, handsome, gentleman, (for 
 
 thieves 
 
 Led to the gallows are held proper men, 
 And so I now will call him,) would needs 
 
 make me 
 The mistress of his thoughts ; nor did I 
 
 scorn, 
 
 For truth is truth, to grace him as a servant. 
 Nay, he took pretty ways to win me too, 
 For a court novice ; every year I was 
 His Valentine, and, in an anagram, 
 My name worn in his hat ; he made me 
 
 banquets, 
 
 As if he thought that ladies, like to flies, 
 Were to be caught with sweetmeats ; quar- 
 
 rell'd with 
 
 My tailor, if my gown were not the first 
 Of that edition ; beat my shoemaker, 
 If the least wrinkle on my foot appear 'd, 
 As wronging the proportion ; and, in time, 
 Grew bolder, usher'd me to masques, and . 
 Or else paid him that wrote them ; 
 With such a deal of p 
 And of good rank, are taken with such 
 
 gambols : 
 
 In a word, I was so ; and a solemn contract 
 Did pass betwixt us ; and the day appointed, 
 That should make our embraces warrantable, 
 And lawful to the world : all things so car- 
 ried, 
 
 As he meant nought but honourable love. 
 Char. A pretty method. 
 Phil. Quaintly, too, deliver'd. 
 Leon. But, when he thought me sure, he 
 
 then gave proof 
 
 That foul lust lurk'd in the fair shape of love ; 
 For, valuing neither laws divine, nor human, 
 His credit, nor my fame, with violence born 
 On black-sail'd wings of loose and base de- 
 sires, 
 
THE PARLIAMENT OF LOVE. 
 
 As if his natural parts had quite forsook him, 
 And that the pleasures of the marriage bed 
 Were to be reaped with no more ceremony 
 Than brute beasts couple, I yet blush to 
 
 speak it, 
 
 He tempted me to yield my honour up 
 To his libidinous twines ; and, like an 
 
 atheist, 
 
 Scoff' d at the form and orders of the church ; 
 Nor ended so, but, being by me reproved, 
 He offered violence ; but was prevented. 
 Char. Note, a sudden change. 
 Laf. 'Twas foul in Cleremond. 
 Leon. I, burning then with a most vir- 
 tuous anger, 
 Razed from my heart the memory of his 
 
 name, 
 Reviled, and spit at him ; and knew 'twas 
 
 justice 
 
 That I should take those deities he scorn'd, 
 Hymen and Cupid, into my protection, 
 And be the instrument of theii; revenge : 
 And so I cast him off, scorn'd his submission, 
 His poor and childish whinings, will'd my 
 
 servants 
 To shut my gates against him : but, when 
 
 neither 
 Disdain, hate, or contempt, could free me 
 
 from 
 
 His loathsome importunities, (and fired too, 
 To wreak mine injured honour,) I took 
 
 gladly 
 
 Advantage of his execrable oaths 
 To undergo what penance I enjoin'd him ; 
 Then, to the terror of all future ribalds, 
 That make no difference between love and 
 
 lust, 
 Imposed this task upon him. I have said, 
 
 too: 
 Now, when you please, a censure. 
 
 Char. She has put 
 The judges to their whisper. 
 Nov. What do you think of these pro- 
 ceedings, tutor? 
 Peri. The truth is, 
 I like not the severity of the court ; 
 Would I were quit, and in an hospital, 
 I could let fall my suit ! 
 Nov. 'Tis still your counsel. 
 Char. We are resolved, and with an 
 
 equal hand 
 
 Will hold the scale of justice ; pity shalTnot 
 Rob us of strength and will to draw her sword, 
 Nor passion transport us : let a priest 
 And headsman be in readiness ; do you 
 
 start, 
 To hear them named ? Some little pause 
 
 we grant you, 
 To take examination of yourselves, 
 
 What either of you have deserved, and why 
 These instruments of our power are now 
 
 thought useful : 
 You shall hear more, anon. 
 
 Cler. I like not this. [Aside. 
 
 Leon. A dreadful preparation ! I confess 
 It shakes my confidence. [Aside. 
 
 Clarin. I presumed this court 
 Had been in sport erected ; but now find, 
 With sorrow to the strongest hopes I built on, 
 That 'tis not safe to be the subject of 
 The . . of kings. 
 
 (New Speaker.} To the second cause. 
 
 Laf. ' . . Perigot's. 
 
 Nov. Nay, take me along too ; 
 And, since that our complaints differ not 
 
 much, 
 
 Dispatch us both together. I accuse 
 This devilish doctor. 
 
 Peri. I, this wicked lord. 
 
 Nov. 'Tis known I was an able, lusty man. 
 Fit to get soldiers to serve my king 
 And country in the wars ; and howsoever 
 'Tis said I am not valiant of myself, 
 I was a striker, one that could strike home 
 
 too; 
 
 And never did beget a girl, though drunk. 
 To make this good, I could produce brave 
 
 boys, 
 
 That others father, twigs of mine own graft- 
 ing, 
 
 That loved a drum at four, and ere full ten, 
 Fought battles for the parish they were born 
 
 in ; 
 And such by-blows, old stories say, still 
 
 proved 
 
 Fortunate captains : now, whereas, injustice, 
 I should have had a pension from the state 
 For my good service, this ingrateful doctor, 
 Having no child, and never like to have one,. 
 Because, in pity of his barrenness, 
 I plotted how to help him to an heir, 
 Has, with a drench, so far disabled me, 
 That the great Turk may trust me with his 
 
 virgins, 
 
 And never use a surgeon. Now consider, 
 If this be not hard measure, and a wrong to 
 Little Dan Cupid, if he be the god 
 Of coupling, as 'tis said ; and will undo, 
 If you give way to this, all younger brothers 
 That carry the'ir revenue in their breeches. 
 Have I not nick'd it, tutor? [Aside to Peri. 
 
 Peri. To a hair, boy : 
 Our bills shall pass, ne'er fear it. [Aside.~[ 
 
 For my case, 
 
 It is the same, sir ; my intent as noble 
 As was my pupil's. 
 
 Cham. Plead it not again, then : 
 It takes much from the dignity of the court 
 
THE PARLIAMENT OF LOVE. 
 
 191 
 
 But to give audience to such things as these, 
 That do, in their defence, condemn them- 
 selves, 
 
 And need not an accuser. To be short, sir, 
 And in a language as far from obsceneness, 
 As the foul cause will give me leave, be 
 
 pleased 
 To know thus much : This hungry pair of 
 
 flesh-flies, 
 
 And most inseparable pair of coxcombs, 
 Though born of divers mothers, twins in 
 
 baseness, 
 
 Were frequent at my table, had free welcome 
 And entertainment fit for better men ; 
 In the return of which, this thankful monsieur 
 Tempted my wife, seduced her, at the least 
 To him it did appear so ; which discover'd, 
 And with what treacheries he did abuse 
 My bounties, treading underneath his feet 
 All due respect of hospitable rights, 
 Or the honour of my family; though the 
 
 intent 
 
 Deserved a stab, and at the holy altar, 
 I borrrow'd so much of your power to right 
 
 me, 
 As to make him caper. 
 
 Din. For this gallant, sir, 
 I do confess I cool'd him, spoil'd his ram- 
 bling ; 
 
 Would all such as delight in it, were served so ! 
 And since you are acquainted with the 
 
 motives 
 
 That did induce me to it, I forbear 
 A needless repetition. 
 
 Cham. 'Tis not worth it. 
 The criminal judge is fitter to take . 
 Of pleas of this base nature. Be 
 An injured lady, for whose wrong 
 I see the statue of the god of love 
 Drop down tears of compassion, his sad 
 
 mother, 
 
 And fair cheek'd Graces, that attend on her, 
 Weeping for company, as if that all 
 The ornaments upon the Paphian shrine 
 Were, with one gripe, by sacrilegious hands, 
 Torn from the holy altar : 'tis a cause, sir, 
 That justly may exact your best attention ; 
 Which if you truly understand and censure, 
 You not alone shall right the present times, 
 But bind posterity to be your debtor. 
 Stand forth, dear madam : 
 
 [Bellisant comes forward. 
 Look upon this face, 
 Examine every feature and proportion, 
 And you with me must grant, this rare piece 
 
 fmish'd, 
 
 Nature, despairing e'er to make the like, 
 Brake suddenly the mould in which 'twas 
 fashion'd. 
 
 Yet, to increase your pity, and call on 
 Your justice with severity, this fair outside 
 Was but the cover of a fairer mind. 
 Think, then, what punishment he must 
 
 deserve, 
 
 And justly suffer, that could arm his heart 
 With such impenetrable flinty hardness, 
 To injure so much sweetness' 
 
 Clarin. I must stand 
 The fury of this tempest, which already 
 Sings in my ears. 
 
 Bell. Great sir, the too much praise 
 This lord, my guardian once, has shower 'd 
 
 upon me, 
 
 Could not but spring up blushes in my cheeks, 
 If grief had left me blood enough to speak 
 My humble modesty : and so far I am 
 From being litigious, that though I were 
 
 robb'd 
 
 Of my whole estate, provided my fair name 
 Had beenunwounded, I had now been silent, 
 But since the wrongs I undergo, if smother' d, 
 Would injure our whole sex, I must lay by 
 My native bashfulness, and put on boldness, 
 Fit to encounter with the impudence 
 Of this bad man, that from his birth hath been 
 So far from nourishing an honest thought, 
 That the abuse of virgins was his study, 
 And daily practice. His forsaking of 
 His wife, distressed Beaupre ; his lewd wager 
 With these, companions like himself, to 
 
 abuse me ; 
 
 His desperate resolution, in my presence, 
 To be his own assassin ; to prevent which, 
 Foolish compassion forced me to surrender 
 The life of life, my honour, I pass over : 
 I'll only touch his foul ingratitude, 
 To scourge which monster, if jour laws 
 
 provide not 
 
 A punishment with rigour, they are useless. 
 Or if the sword, the gallows, or the wheel, 
 Be due to such as spoil us of our goods ; 
 Perillus' brazen bull, the English rack, 
 The German pincers, or the Scotch oil'd- 
 
 boots, 
 Though join'd together, yet come short of 
 
 torture, 
 
 To their full merit, those accursed wretches, 
 That steal our reputations, and good names, 
 As this base villain has done mine : 
 
 Forgive me, 
 
 If rage provoke me to uncivil language ; 
 The cause requires it. Was it not enough 
 That, to preserve thy life, I lost my honour, 
 in recompense of such a gift 
 . publish it, to my disgrace ? 
 
 whose means, unfortunate I, 
 Whom, but of late, the city, nay, all France, 
 Durst bring in opposition for chaste life, 
 
IQ2 
 
 THE PARLIAMENT OF LOVE. 
 
 With any woman in the Christian world, 
 Am now become a by-word, and a scorn, 
 In mine own country. 
 
 Char. As I live, she moves me. 
 Is this true, Clarindore? 
 
 Nov. Oh ! 's very true, sir ; 
 He bragg'd of it to me. 
 
 Peri. And me. 
 Nay, since we must be censured, we'll give 
 
 evidence ; 
 
 'Tis comfort to have fellows in affliction : 
 You shall not 'scape, fine monsieur. 
 
 Clarin. Peace, you dog-bolts ! 
 Sir, I address myself to you, and hope 
 You have preserved one ear for my defence, 
 The other freely given to my accuser : 
 This lady, that complains of injury, 
 If she have any, was herself the cause 
 That brought it to her ; for being young, 
 
 and rich, 
 
 And fair too, as you see, and from that proud, 
 She boasted of her strength, as if it were not 
 In the power of love to undermine the fort 
 On which her chastity was strongly raised : 
 I, that was bred a courtier, and served 
 Almost my whole life under Cupid's ensigns, 
 Could not, in justice, but interpret this 
 As an affront to the great god of love, 
 And all his followers, if she were not brought 
 To due obedience : these strong reasons, sir, 
 Made me to undertake her. How I woo'd, 
 Or what I swore, it skills not ; (since 'tis said, 
 And truly, Jupiter and Venus smile 
 At lovers' perjuries ;) to be brief, she yielded, 
 And I enjoy 'd her : if this be a crime, 
 And all such as offend this pleasant way 
 Are to be punish'd, I am sure you would 
 
 have 
 Tew followers in the court : you are young 
 
 yourself, sir, 
 And what would you in such a cause ? 
 
 Laf. Forbear. 
 
 Phil. You are rude and insolent. 
 
 Clarin. Good words, gentle judges. 
 I have no oil'd tongue ; and I hope my 
 
 bluntness 
 Will not offend. 
 
 Char. But did you boast your conquest 
 Got on this lady? 
 
 Clarin. After victory ; 
 A little glory in a soldier's mouth 
 Is not uncomely ; love being a kind of war 
 
 too : 
 
 And what I did achieve, was full of labour 
 As his that wins strong towns, and merits 
 
 triumphs. 
 I thought it could not but take from my 
 
 honour, 
 (BesfcTesTfie wager of three thousand crowns 
 
 Made sure by her confession of my service,) 
 If it had been conceal'd. 
 
 Char. Who would have thought 
 That such an impudence could e'er have 
 
 harbour 
 
 In the heart of any gentleman ? In this, 
 Thou dost degrade thyself of all the honours 
 Thy ancestors left thee, and, in thy base 
 
 nature, 
 
 'Tis too apparent that thou art a peasant. 
 Boast of a lady's favours ! this confirms 
 Thou art the captain of that 
 That glory in their sins, and 
 With name of courtship ; such as dare bely 
 Great women's bounties, and repuls'd and 
 
 scorn 'd, 
 
 Commit adultery with their good names, 
 And never touch their persons. I am sorry, 
 For your sake, madam, that I cannot make 
 Such reparation for you in your honour 
 As I desire ; for, if I should compel him 
 To marry you, it were to him a blessing, 
 To you a punishment ; he being so unworthy : 
 I therefore do resign my place to you ; 
 Be your own judge ; whate'er you shall de- 
 termine, 
 By my crown, I'll see perform'd. 
 
 Clarin. I am in a fine case, 
 To stand at a woman's mercy. {Aside. 
 
 Bell. Then thus, sir : 
 I am not bloody, nor bent to revenge ; 
 And study his amendment, not his ruin : 
 Yet, since you have given up your power to 
 
 me, 
 
 For punishment, I do enjoin him to 
 Marry this Moor. 
 
 Clarin. A devil ! hang me rather. 
 
 Char. It is not to be alter 'd. 
 
 Clarin. This is cruelty 
 Beyond expression, . . I have a wife. 
 
 Cham. Ay, too good for thee. View her 
 
 well, 
 And then, this varnish from her face wash'd 
 
 off, 
 Thou shalt find Beaupre". 
 
 Clarin. Beaupre ! 
 
 Bell. Yes, his wife, sir, 
 But long by him with violence cast off : 
 And in this shape she serv'd me ; all my 
 
 studies 
 
 Aiming to make a fair atonement for her, 
 To which your majesty may now constrain 
 him. 
 
 Clarin. It needs not ; I receive her, and 
 
 ask pardon 
 Of her and you. 
 
 Bell. On both our parts 'tis granted. 
 This was your bedfellow, and fill'd your 
 arms, 
 
THE PARLIAMENT OF LOVE. 
 
 When you thought you embraced me ; I am 
 
 yet 
 
 A virgin ; nor had ever given consent, 
 In my chaste house, to such a wan ton passage, 
 But that I knew that her desires were lawful. 
 But now no more of personated passion : 
 This is the man I loved, [pointing to the 
 
 bier,~] that I loved truly, 
 However I dissembled ; and, with him, 
 Dies all affection in me. So, great sir, 
 Resume your seat. 
 
 Char. An unexpected issue, 
 Which I rejoice in. Would 'twere in our 
 
 power 
 
 To give a period to the rest, like this, 
 And spare our heavy censure ! but the death 
 Of good Montrose forbids it. Cleremond, 
 Thou instantly shall marry Leonora ; 
 Which done, as suddenly thy head cut off, 
 And corpse interr'd, upon thy grave I'll build 
 A room of eight feet square, in which this 
 
 lady, 
 
 For punishment of her cruelty, shall die 
 An anchoress. 
 
 Leon. I do repent, and rather 
 Will marry him, and forgive him. 
 
 Clarin. Bind her to 
 Her word, great sir ; Montrose lives ; this a 
 
 plot 
 To catch this obstinate lady. 
 
 Leon. I am glad 
 To be so cheated. 
 
 Mont, [rises from the bier\. . . Lady, 
 
 deceived ; do not repent 
 Your good opinion of me when thought dead. 
 Nor let not my neglect to wait upon you, 
 Considering what a business of import 
 Diverted me, be thought unpardonable. 
 
 Bell. For my part 'tis forgiven ; and thus 
 
 I seal 
 
 Char. Nor are we averse 
 To your desires ; may you live long, and 
 
 happy : 
 
 Nov. Mercy to us, great sir. 
 Peri. We will become 
 Chaste and reform 'd men. 
 
 Cham, and Din. We both are suitors, 
 On this submission, for your pardon, sir. 
 Cham. Which we in part will grant : but, 
 
 to deter 
 
 Others, by their example, from pursuing 
 Unlawful' lusts, that think adultery 
 A sport to be oft practised ; fix on them 
 Two satyrs' heads ; and so, in capital letters- 
 Their foul intents writ on their breasts, we'll 
 
 have them 
 Led thrice through Paris ; then, at the court 
 
 gate, 
 To stand three hours, where Clarindore shall 
 
 make 
 
 His recantation for the injury 
 Done to the lady Bellisant ; and read 
 A sharp invective, ending with a curse 
 Against all such as boast of ladies' favours : 
 Which done, both truly penitent, my doctor 
 Shall use his best art to restore your strength, 
 And render Perigot a perfect man. 
 So break we up LOVE'S PARLIAMENT, 
 
 which, we hope, 
 Being for mirth intended, shall not meet 
 
 with 
 
 An ill construction ; andif then, fair ladies r 
 You please to approve it, we hope you It 
 
 invite 
 Your friends to see it ften t with delight. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
The Roman Actor. 
 
 DRAMATIS PERSONS. ACTORS' NAMES. 
 
 Domitianus Caesar J. Lowin. 
 
 Paris, the ROMAN ACTOR J. Taylor. 
 
 ./Elius Lamia, ^ fT. Pollard. 
 
 Junius Rusticus, f J Rob. Benfield, 
 
 Palphurius Sura, \ s&nators < W . Pa tricke. 
 
 Fulcinius, ) (. 
 
 Parthenius, Caesar 's freedman R. Sharpe. 
 
 Aretinus, Caesar's sty E. Swanstone. 
 
 Stephanos, Domitil\a.'s freed man. 
 
 .'Esopus, \+j avers fR. Robinson. 
 
 Latinus, }P la y ers jc. Greville. 
 
 Philargus, a rich miser ; father to Parthenius . . . A. Smith. 
 Ascletario, an astrologer. 
 
 I 
 
 Domitia, wife of/Elius Lamia J. Tompson. 
 
 Domitilla, cousin-german to Caesar I. Hunnieman. 
 
 Julia, daughter of Titus W. Trigge. 
 
 Caenis, Vespasian's concubine A. Gough. 
 
 A Lady. 
 
 Tribunes, Lictors, Centurions, Soldiers, Hangmen, Servants, Captives. 
 SCENE, Rome. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 SCENE I. The Theatre. Enter Paris, 
 Latinus, and JEsopus. 
 
 sEsop. What do we act to-day? 
 
 Lat. Agave's frenzy, 
 With Pentheus' bloody end. 
 
 Par. It skills not what ; 
 The times are dull, and all that we receive 
 Will hardly satisfy the day's expense. 
 The Greeks, to whom we owe the first in- 
 vention 
 
 Both of the buskin'd scene, and humble sock, 
 That reign in every noble family, 
 Declaim against us ; and our theatre, 
 Great Pompey's work, that hath given full 
 
 delight 
 
 Both to the eye and ear of fifty thousand 
 Spectators in one day, as if it were 
 Some unknown desart, or great Rome un- 
 peopled, 
 Is quite forsaken. 
 
 Lat. Pleasures of worse natures 
 Are gladly entertain'd ; and they that shun us, 
 Practise, in private, sports the stews would 
 
 blush at. 
 A litter borne by eight Liburnian slaves. 
 
 To buy diseases from a glorious strumpet, 
 The most censorious of our Roman gentry, 
 Nay, of the garded robe, the senators, 
 Esteem an easy purchase. 
 
 Par. Yet grudge us, 
 
 That with delight join profit, and endeavour 
 To build their minds up fair, and on the stage 
 Decipher to the life what honours wait 
 On good and glorious actions, and the shame 
 That treads upon the heels of vice, the salary 
 Of six sestertii. 
 
 sEsop. For the profit, Paris, 
 And mercenary gain, they are things be- 
 neath us ; 
 Since, while you hold your grace and power 
 
 with Caesar, 
 
 We, from your bounty, find a large supply, 
 Nor can one thought of want ever approach 
 us. 
 
 Par. Our aim is glory, and to leave our 
 
 names 
 To aftertime. 
 
 Lat. And, would they give us leave, 
 There ends all our ambition. 
 
 *Esop. We have enemies, 
 And great ones too, I fear. Tis given out 
 lately, 
 
THE ROMAN ACTOR. 
 
 195 
 
 The consul Aretinus, Caesar's spy, 
 Said at his table, ere a month expired, 
 For being gall'd in our last comedy, 
 He'd silence us for ever. 
 
 Par. I expect 
 
 No favour from him ; my strong Aventine is, 
 That great Domitian, whom we oft have 
 
 cheer'd 
 
 In his most sullen moods, will once return, 
 Who can repair, with ease, the consul's ruins. 
 
 Lat. 'Tis frequent in the city, he hath 
 
 subdued 
 
 The Catti and the Daci, and, ere long, 
 The second time will enter Rome in triumph. 
 
 Enter two Lictors. 
 
 Par. Jove hasten it? With us? I now 
 
 believe 
 The consul's threats, ^Esopus. 
 
 1 Lict. You are summon 'd 
 To appear to-day in senate. 
 
 2 Lict. And there to answer 
 What shall be urged against you. 
 
 Par. We obey you. 
 Nay, droop not, fellows ; innocence should 
 
 be bold. 
 
 We, that have personated in the scene 
 The ancient heroes, and the falls of princes, 
 With loud applause ; being to act ourselves, 
 Must do it with undoubted confidence. 
 Whate'er our sentence be, think 'tis in sport : 
 And, though condemn'd, let's hear it without 
 
 sorrow, 
 
 As if we were to live again to-morrow, 
 i Lict. 'Tis spoken like yourself. 
 
 Enter ^Elius Lamia, Junius Rusticus, and 
 Palphurius Sura. 
 
 Lam. Whither goes Paris ? 
 i Lid. He's cited to the senate. 
 Lat. I am glad the state is 
 So free from matters of more weight and 
 
 trouble, 
 
 That it has vacant time to look on us. 
 Par. That reverend place, in which the 
 
 affairs of kings 
 
 And provinces were determined, to descend 
 To the censure of a bitter word, or jest, 
 Dropp'd from a poet's pen ! Peace to your 
 
 lordships ! 
 We are glad that you are safe. 
 
 {Exeunt Lictors, Paris, Latinus, and 
 
 ^Esopus. 
 
 Lam. What times are these ! 
 To what 's Rome fallen ! may we, being 
 
 alone, 
 Speak our thoughts freely of the prince and 
 
 state, 
 And not fear the informer? 
 
 Rust. Noble Lamia, 
 
 So dangerous the age is, and such bad acts 
 Are practised every where, we hardly sleep, 
 Nay, cannot dream with safety. All our 
 
 actions 
 
 Are call'd in question ; to be nobly born 
 Is now a crime ; and to deserve too well, 
 Held capital treason. Sons accuse their 
 
 fathers, 
 
 Fathers their sons ; and, but to win a smile 
 From one in grace at court, our chastest 
 
 matrons 
 Make shipwreck of their honours. To be 
 
 virtuous 
 
 Is to be guilty. They are only safe 
 That know to sooth the prince's appetite, 
 And serve his lusts. 
 
 Sura. 'Tis true ; and 'tis my wonder, 
 That two sons of so different a nature 
 Should spring from good Vespasian. We 
 
 had a Titus, 
 
 Styl'd, justly, "the Delight of all Man- 
 kind," 
 
 Who did esteem that day lost in his life 
 In which some one or other tasted not 
 Of his magnificent bounties. One that had 
 A ready tear, when he was forced to sign 
 The death of an offender : and so far 
 From pride, that he disdain'd not the con- 
 verse 
 Even of the poorest Roman. 
 
 Lam. Yet his brother, 
 Domitian, thatnowsways the power of things, 
 Is so inclined to blood, that no day passes 
 In which some are not fasten'd to the hook, 
 Or thrown down from the Gemonies. His 
 
 freed men 
 
 Scorn the nobility, and he himself, 
 As if he were not made of flesh and blood, 
 Forgets he is a man. 
 
 Rust. In his young years, 
 He shew'd what he would be when grown 
 
 to ripeness : 
 
 His greatest pleasure was, being a child, 
 With a sharp-pointed bodkin to kill flies, 
 Whose rooms now men supply. For his 
 
 escape 
 
 In the Vitellian war, he raised a temple 
 To Jupiter, and proudly placed his figure 
 In the bosom of the god : and, in his edicts, 
 He does not blush, or start, to style himself 
 (As if the name of emperor were base) 
 Great Lord and God Domitian. 
 
 Sura. I have letters 
 He's on his way to Rome, and purposes 
 To enter with all glory. The flattering senate 
 Decrees him divine honours ; and to cross it, 
 Were death with studied torments : for 
 my part, 
 
 O 8 
 
i 9 6 
 
 THE ROMAN ACTOR. 
 
 I will obey the time ; it is in vain 
 To strive against the torrent. 
 
 Rust. Let's to the curia, 
 And, though unwillingly, give our suffrages, 
 Before we are compell'd. 
 
 Lam. And since we cannot 
 With safety use the active, let's make use of 
 The passive fortitude, with this assurance, 
 That the state, sick in him, the gods to friend, 
 Though attheworst, will now begin to mend. 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE II. A Room in Lamia's House. 
 
 Enter Domitia and Parthenius. 
 Dom. To me this reverence ! 
 Parth. I pay it, lady, 
 
 As a debt due to her that's Caesar's mistress: 
 For understand with joy, he that commands 
 All that the sun gives warmth to, is your 
 
 servant ; 
 
 Be not amazed, but fit you to your fortunes. 
 Think upon state and greatness, and the 
 
 honours 
 
 That wait upon Augusta, for that name 
 Ere long, comes to you : still you doubt 
 
 your vassal [Presents a letter, 
 
 But, when you've read this letter, writ and 
 
 sign'd 
 
 With his imperial hand, you will be freed 
 From fear and jealousy; and, I beseech you, 
 When all the beauties of the earth bow to 
 
 you, 
 
 And senators shall take it for an honour, 
 As I do now, to kiss these happy feet ; 
 
 [Kneels. 
 
 When every smile you give is a preferment, 
 And you dispose of provinces to your crea- 
 tures, 
 Think on Parthenius. 
 
 Dom. Rise. I am transported, 
 And hardly dare believe what is assured here. 
 The means, my good Parthenius, that 
 
 wrought Caesar, 
 
 Our god on earth, to cast an eye of favour 
 Upon his humble handmaid? 
 
 Parth. What, but your beauty ? 
 When nature framed you for her masterpiece, 
 As the pure abstract of all rare in woman, 
 She had no other ends but to design you 
 To the most eminent place. I will not say 
 (For it would smell of arrogance, to insinuate 
 The service I have done you) with what zeal 
 I oft have made relation of your virtues, 
 Or how I've sung your goodness, or how 
 
 Caesar 
 
 Was fired with the relation of your story : 
 I am rewarded in the act, and happy 
 In that my project prosper'd. 
 Dom. You are modest : 
 
 And were it in my power, I would be thankful. 
 If that, when I was mistress of myself, 
 And in my way of youth, pure and untainted, 
 The emperor had vouchsafed to seek my 
 
 favours, 
 
 I had with joy given up my virgin fort, 
 At the first summons, to his soft embraces ; 
 But I am now another's, not mine own. 
 You know I have a husband : for my 
 
 honour, 
 
 I would not be his strumpet ; and how law 
 Can be dispensed with to become his wife, 
 To me's a riddle. 
 
 Parth. I can soon resolve it : 
 When power puts in his plea the laws are 
 
 silenced. 
 The world confesses one Rome, and one 
 
 Caesar, 
 
 And as his rule is infinite, his pleasures 
 Are unconfined ; this syllable, his will, 
 Stands for a thousand reasons. 
 
 Dom. But with safety, 
 
 Suppose I should consent, how can I do it ? 
 My husband is a senator, and of a temper 
 Not to be jested with. 
 
 Enter Lamia. 
 
 Parth. As if he durst 
 
 Be Caesar's rival ! here he comes ; with ease 
 I will remove this scruple. 
 Lam. How ! so private ! 
 My own house made a brothel ! [Aside.] 
 
 Sir, how durst you, 
 Though guarded with your power in court, 
 
 and greatness, 
 Hold conference with my wife ? As for you, 
 
 minion, 
 
 I shall hereafter treat 
 
 Parth. You are rude and saucy, 
 Nor know to whom you speak. 
 
 Lam. This is fine, i'faith ! 
 Is she not my wife ? 
 Parth. Your wife ! But touch her, that 
 
 respect forgotten 
 That's due to her whom mightiest Caesar 
 
 favours, 
 
 And think what 'tis to die. Not to lose time, 
 She's Caesar's choice : it is sufficient honour 
 You were his taster in this heavenly nectar ; 
 But now must quit the office. 
 
 Lam. This is rare ! 
 Cannot a man be master of his wife 
 Because she's young and fair, without a 
 
 patent? 
 
 I in my own house am an emperor, 
 And will defend what's mine. Where are 
 
 my knaves ? 
 If such an insolence escape unpunish'd 
 
THE ROMAN ACTOR. 
 
 197 
 
 Parth. In yourself, Lamia Caesar hath 
 
 forgot 
 
 To use his power, and I, his instrument, 
 In whom, though absent, his authority 
 
 speaks, 
 Have lost my faculties ! [Stamps. 
 
 Enter a Centurion -with Soldiers. 
 
 Lam. The guard ! why, am I 
 Design'd for death ? 
 
 Dom. As you desire my favour 
 Take not so rough a course. 
 
 Parth. All your desires 
 Are absolute commands : Yet give me leave 
 To put the will of Caesar into act. 
 Here's a bill of divorce between your lordship 
 And this great lady: if you refuse to sign it, 
 And so as if you did it uncompell'd, 
 Won to 't by reasons that concern yourself, 
 Her honour too untainted, here are clerks, 
 Shall in your best blood write it new, till 
 
 torture 
 
 Compel you to perform it. 
 Lam. Is this legal? 
 
 Parth. Monarchs that dare not do unlaw- 
 ful things, 
 
 Yet bear them out, are constables, not kings. 
 Will you dispute ? 
 
 Lam. I know not what to urge 
 Against myself, but too much dotage on her, 
 Love, and observance. 
 
 Parth. Set it under your hand, 
 That you are impotent, and cannot pay 
 The duties of a husband ; or, that you are 
 
 mad ; 
 Rather than want just cause, we'll make 
 
 you so. 
 
 Dispatch, you know the danger else ; de- 
 liver it, 
 Nay, on your knee. Madam, you now are 
 
 free, 
 And mistress of yourself. 
 
 Lam. Can you, Domitia, 
 Consent to this ? 
 
 Dom. 'Twould argue a base mind 
 To live a servant, when I may command. 
 I now am Caesar's : and yet, in respect 
 I once was yours, when you come to the 
 
 palace, 
 
 Provided you deserve it in your service, 
 You shall find me your good mistress. Wait 
 
 me, Parthenius ; 
 And now farewell, poor Lamia ! 
 
 \Exeuni all but Lamia. 
 Lam. To the gods 
 
 I bend my knees, (for tyranny hath banish'd 
 Justice from men,) and as they would deserve 
 Their altars, and our vows, humbly invoke 
 them, 
 
 That this my ravish'd wife may prove as fatal 
 To proud Domitian, and her embraces 
 Afford him, in the end, as little joy 
 As wanton Helen brought to him of Troy ! 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 SCENE III. The Curia or Senate-house. 
 
 EnterlActQrs, Aretinus, Fulcinius, Rusticus, 
 
 Sura, Paris, Latinus, and ^Esopus. 
 
 Aret. Fathers conscript, may this our 
 
 meeting be 
 Happy to Caesar and the commonwealth ! 
 
 Lict. Silence! 
 
 Aret. The purpose of this frequent senate 
 Is, first, to give thanks to the gods of Rome, 
 That, for the propagation of the empire, 
 Vouchsafe us one to govern it, like themselves. 
 In height of courage, depth of understanding, 
 And all those virtues, and remarkable graces, 
 Which make a prince most eminent, our 
 
 Domitian 
 
 Transcends the ancient Romans : I can never 
 Bring his praise to a period. What good man, 
 That is a friend to truth, dares make it 
 
 doubtful, 
 That he hath Fabius' staidness, and the 
 
 courage 
 
 Of bold Marcellus, to whom Hannibal gave 
 The style of Target, and the Sword of Rome? 
 But he has more, and every touch more 
 
 Roman ; 
 
 As Pompey's dignity, Augustus' state, 
 Antony's bounty, and great Julius' fortune, 
 With Cato's resolution. I am lost 
 In the ocean of his virtues : in a word, 
 All excellencies of good men meet in him, 
 But no part of their vices. 
 
 Rust. This is no flattery ! 
 
 Sura. Take heed, you'll be observed. 
 
 Aret. 'Tis then most fit 
 That we, (as to the father of our country, 
 Like thankful sons, stand bound to pay true 
 
 service 
 For all those blessings that he showers upon 
 
 us,) 
 
 Should not connive, and see his government 
 Depraved and scandalized by meaner men, 
 That to his favour and indulgence owe 
 Themselves and being. 
 
 Par. Now he points at us. 
 
 Aret. Cite Paris, the tragedian. 
 
 Par. Here. 
 
 Aret. Stand forth. 
 
 In thee, as being the chief of thy profession, 
 I do accuse the quality of treason, 
 As libellers against the state and Caesar. 
 
 Pat. Mere accusations are not proofs, my 
 
 lord; 
 In what are we delinquents ? 
 
z 9 3 
 
 THE ROMAN ACTOR. 
 
 A ret. You are they 
 
 That search into the secrets of the time, 
 And, under feign'd names, on the stage,- 
 
 present 
 
 Actions not to be touch 'd at ; and traduce 
 Persons of rank and quality of both sexes, 
 And, with satirical, and bitter jests, 
 Make even the senators ridiculous 
 To the plebeians. 
 
 Par. If I free not myself, 
 And. in myself, the rest of my profession, 
 From these false imputations, and prove 
 That they make that a libel which the poet 
 Writ for a comedy, so acted too ; 
 It is but justice that we undergo 
 The heaviest censure. 
 
 A ret. Are you on the stage, 
 You talk so boldly? 
 
 Par. The whole world being one, 
 This place is not exempted ; and I am 
 So confident in the justice of our cause, 
 That I could wish Caesar, in whose great 
 
 name 
 
 All kings are comprehended, sat as judge, 
 To hear our plea, and then determine of us. 
 If, to express a man sold to his lusts, 
 Wasting the treasure of his time and fortunes 
 In wanton dalliance, and to what sad end 
 A wretch that's so given over does arrive at ; 
 Deterring careless youth, by his example, 
 From such licentious courses ; laying open 
 The snares of bawds, and the consuming arts 
 Of prodigal strumpets, can deserve reproof ; 
 Why are not all your golden principles, 
 Writ down by grave philosophers to instruct 
 
 us 
 To choose fair virtue for our guide, not 
 
 pleasure, 
 Condemn 'd unto the fire ? 
 
 Sura. There's spirit in this. 
 
 Par. Or if desire of honour was the base 
 On which the building of the Roman empire 
 Was raised up to this height ; if, to inflame 
 The noble youth with an ambitious heat 
 T' endure the frosts of danger, nay, of death, 
 To be thought worthy the triumphal wreath 
 By glorious undertakings, may deserve 
 Reward, or favour from the commonwealth ; 
 Actors may put in for as large a share 
 As all the sects of the philosophers : 
 They with cold precepts (perhaps seldom 
 
 read) 
 
 Deliver, what an honourable thing 
 The active virtue is : but does that fire 
 The blood, or swell the veins with emulation, 
 To be both good and great, equal to that 
 Which is presented on our theatres ? 
 Let a good actor, in a lofty scene, 
 Show great Alcides honour'd in the sweat 
 
 Of his twelve labours ; or a bold Camillus, 
 Forbidding Rome to be redeem'd with gold 
 From the insulting Gauls ; or Scipio, 
 After his victories, imposing tribute 
 On conquer 'd Carthage : if done to the life, 
 As if they saw their dangers, and their glories, 
 And did partake with them in their rewards, 
 All that have any spark of Roman in them, 
 The slothful arts laid by, contend to be 
 Like those they see presented. 
 
 Rust. He has put 
 The consuls to their whisper. 
 
 Par. But, 'tis urged 
 
 That we corrupt youth, and traduce superiors, 
 When do we bring a vice upon the stage, 
 That does go off un punish 'd ? Do we teach, 
 By the success of wicked undertakings, 
 Others to tread in their forbidden steps ? 
 We shew no arts of Lydian panderism, 
 Corinthian poisons, Persian flatteries, 
 But mulcted so in the conclusion, that 
 Even those spectators that were so inclined, 
 Go home changed men. And, for traducing 
 
 such 
 
 That are above us, publishing to the world 
 Their secret crimes, we are as innocent 
 As such as are born dumb. When we present 
 An heir, that does conspire against the life 
 Of his dear parent, numbering every hour 
 He lives, as tedious to him ; if there be, 
 Among the auditors, one whose conscience 
 
 tells him 
 He is of the same mould, WE CANNOT 
 
 HELP IT. 
 
 Or, bringing on the stage a loose adulteress, 
 
 That does maintain the riotous expense 
 
 Of him that feeds her greedy lust, yet suffers 
 
 The lawful pledges of a former bed 
 
 To starve the while for hunger ; if a matron, 
 
 However great in fortune, birth, or titles, 
 
 Guilty of such a foul unnatural sin, 
 
 Cry out, 'Tis writ for me, WE CANNOT 
 
 HELP IT. 
 
 Or, when a covetous man's express'd, whose 
 wealth 
 
 Arithmetic cannot number, and whose lord- 
 ships 
 
 A falcon in one day cannot fly over ; 
 
 Yet he so sordid in his mind, so griping, 
 
 As not to afford himself the necessaries 
 
 To maintain life ; if a patrician, 
 
 (Though honour'd with a consulship,) find 
 himself 
 
 Touch'd to the quick in this, WE CANNOT 
 
 HELP IT. 
 
 Or, when we shew a judge that is corrupt,' 
 And will give up his sentence, as he favours 
 The person, not the cause ; saving the guilty, 
 If of his faction, and as oft condemning 
 
THE ROMAN ACTOR. 
 
 199 
 
 The innocent, out of particular spleen ; 
 
 If any in this reverend assembly, 
 
 Nay, even yourself, my lord, that are the 
 
 image 
 Of absent Caesar, feel something in your 
 
 bosom 
 That puts you in remembrance of things 
 
 past, 
 Or things intended, 'TIS NOT IN US TO 
 
 HELP IT. 
 
 I have said, my lord : and now, as you find 
 
 cause, 
 
 Or censure us, or free us with applause. 
 Lat. Well pleaded, on my life ! I never 
 
 saw him 
 Act an orator's part before. 
 
 sEsop. We might have given 
 Ten double fees to Regulus, and yet 
 Our cause deliver'd worse. [A shout within. 
 
 Enter Parthenius. 
 
 Aret. What shout is that? 
 Parth. Caesar, our lord, married to con- 
 quest, is 
 
 Return'd in triumph. 
 Ful. Let's all haste to meet him. 
 Aret. Break up the court ; we will reserve 
 
 to him 
 The censure of this cause. 
 
 All. Long life to Caesar ! [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE IV. The Approach to the Capitol. 
 Enter Julia, Casnis, Domitilla, and Domitia. 
 
 Ccenis. Stand back the place is mine. 
 
 Jul. Yours ! Am I not 
 Great Titus' daughter, and Domitian's niece? 
 Dares any claim precedence? 
 
 Ccenis. I was more : . 
 The mistress of your father, and, in his 
 
 right, 
 Claim duty from you. 
 
 Jul. I confess, you were useful 
 To please his appetite. 
 
 Dom. To end the controversy, 
 For I'll have no contending, I'll be bold 
 To lead the way myself. 
 
 Domitil. You, minion ! 
 
 Dom. Yes ; 
 
 And all, ere long, shall kneel to catch my 
 favours. 
 
 Jul. Whence springs this flood of great- 
 ness? 
 
 Dom. You shall know 
 Too soon, for your vexation, and perhaps 
 Repent too late, and pine with envy, when 
 You see whom Caesar favours. 
 
 Jul. Observe the sequel. 
 
 Enter Captains with laurels, Domitian in 
 his triumphant chariot, Parthenius, Paris, 
 Latinus, and ^Esopus, met by Aretinus. 
 Sura, Lamia, Rusticus, Fulcinius, Soldiers, 
 and Captives. 
 
 Cces. As we now touch the height of human 
 
 glory, 
 
 Riding in triumph to the capitol. 
 Let these, whom this victorious arm hath. 
 
 made 
 
 The scorn of fortune, and the slaves of Rome, 
 Taste the extremes of misery. Bear them off 
 To the common prisons, and there let them 
 
 prove 
 How sharp our axes are. 
 
 [Exeunt Soldiers with Captives. 
 Rust. A bloody entrance ! [Aside. 
 
 Cces. To tell you you are happy in your 
 
 prince, 
 
 Were to distrust your love, or my desert ; 
 And either were distasteful : or to boast 
 How much, not by my deputies, but myself, 
 I have enlarged the empire ; or what horrors 
 The soldier, in our conduct, hath broke 
 
 through, 
 Would better suit the mouth of Plautus' 
 
 braggart, 
 
 Than the adored monarch of the world. 
 Sura. This is no boast ! [Aside. 
 
 Cces. When I but name the Daci, 
 And gray-eyed Germans, whom I have sub- 
 dued, 
 
 The ghost of Julius will look pale with envy, 
 And great Vespasian's and Titus' triumph, 
 (Truth must take place of father and of 
 
 brother,) 
 
 Will be no more remember'd. I am above 
 All honours you can give me : and the style 
 Of Lord and God, which thankful subjects 
 
 give me, 
 Not my ambition, is deserved. 
 
 Aret. At all parts 
 Celestial sacrifice is fit for Cassar, 
 In our acknowledgment. 
 
 Cces. Thanks, Aretinus ; 
 Still hold our favour. Now, the god of war, 
 And famine, blood, and death, Bellona's 
 
 pages, 
 Banish'd from Rome to Thrace, in our good 
 
 fortune, 
 
 With justice he may taste the fruits of peace, 
 Whose sword hath plough'd the ground, and 
 
 reap'd the harvest 
 
 Of your prosperity. Nor can I think 
 That there is one among you so ungrateful, 
 Or such an enemy to thriving virtue, 
 That can esteem the jewel he holds dearest, 
 Too good for Caesar's use. 
 
200 
 
 THE ROMAN ACTOR. 
 
 Sura. All we possess 
 
 Lam. Our liberties 
 
 Ful. Our children 
 
 Par. Wealth 
 
 Aret. And throats, 
 Fall willingly beneath his feet. 
 
 Rust. Base flattery ! 
 What Roman can endure this? 
 
 Cess. This calls on 
 
 [Aside. 
 
 My love to all, which spreads itself among 
 
 you. 
 The beauties of the time! [seeing the ladies.} 
 
 Receive the honour 
 To kiss the hand which, rear'd up thus, 
 
 holds thunder ; 
 
 To you 'tis an assurance of a calm. 
 Julia, my niece, and Caenis, the delight 
 Of old Vespasian ; Domitilla, too, 
 A princess of our blood. 
 
 Rust. Tis strange his pride 
 Affords no greater courtesy to ladies 
 Of such high birth and rank. 
 
 Sura. Your wife's forgotten. 
 
 Lam. No, she will be remember'd, fear it 
 
 not ; 
 She will be graced and greased. 
 
 Cess. But, when I look on 
 Divine Domitia, methinks we should meet 
 {The lesser gods applauding the encounter) 
 As Jupiter, the Giants lying dead 
 On the Phlegraean plain, embraced his Juno. 
 Lamia, it is your honour that she's mine. 
 
 Lam. You are too great to be gainsaid. 
 
 Cess. Let all 
 
 That fear our frown, or do affect our favour, 
 Without examining the reason why, 
 Salute her (by this kiss I make it good) 
 With the title of Augusta. 
 
 Dom. Still your servant. 
 
 All. Long live Augusta, great Domitian's 
 empress ! 
 
 Cess. Paris, my hand. 
 
 Par. [kissing it.} The gods still honour 
 Caesar! 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 SCENE I. A State Room in the Palace. 
 Enter Philargus in rags, and Parthenius. 
 
 Phil. My son to tutor me ! Know your 
 
 obedience, 
 
 And question not my will. 
 Parth. Sir, were I one, 
 Whom want compell'd to wish a full pos- 
 session 
 
 Of what is yours : or had I ever number'd 
 Your years, or thought you lived too long, 
 
 with reason 
 
 You then might nourish ill opinions of me : 
 Or did the suit that I prefer to you 
 Concern myself, and aim'd not at your good, 
 Youmightdeny, and I sit down with patience, 
 Arid after never press you. 
 
 Phil. In the name of Pluto, 
 What wouldst thou have me do ? 
 
 Parth. Right to yourself ; 
 Or suffer me to do it. Can you imagine 
 This nasty hat, this tatter'd cloak, rent shoe 
 This sordid linen, can become the master 
 Of your fair fortunes? whose superfluous 
 
 means, 
 Though I were burthensome, could clothe 
 
 you in 
 The costliest Persian silks, studded with 
 
 jewels, 
 
 The spoils of provinces, and every day 
 Fresh change of Tyrian purple. 
 
 Phil. Out upon thee ! 
 My monies in my coffers melt to hear thee. 
 Purple ! hence, prodigal ! Shall I make my 
 
 mercer, 
 
 Or tailor heir, or see my jeweller purchase ? 
 No, I hate pride. 
 
 Parth. Yet decency would do well. 
 Though, for your outside, you will not be 
 
 alter'd, 
 
 Let me prevail so far yet, as to win you 
 I Not to deny your belly nourishment ; 
 
 Cess. The wars are ended, and, our arms | Neither to think you've feasted, when 'tis 
 
 laid by, cramm'd 
 
 We are forsoft delights. Command the poets ; With mouldy barley-bread, onions, and leeks, 
 To use their choicest and most rare invention, 
 To entertain the time ; nor be you careful 
 
 To give it action : we'll provide the people 
 
 And the drink of bondmen, water. 
 
 Phil. Wouldst thou have me 
 Be an Apicius, or a Lucullus, 
 
 Pleasures of all kinds. My Domitia, think ! And riot out my state in curious sauces ? 
 
 not 
 
 I flatter, though thus fond. On to the capitol: 
 'Tis death to him that wears a sullen brow. 
 This 'tis to be a monarch, when alone 
 He can commar-d all, but is awed by none. 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 Wise nature with a little is contented 
 And, following her, my guide, I cannot err. 
 Parth. But you destroy her in your want 
 
 of care 
 
 (I blush to see, and speak it) to maintain her 
 In perfect health and vigour ; when you suffer, 
 Frighted with the charge of physic, rheums, 
 
 catarrhs, 
 
THE ROMAN ACTOR. 
 
 201 
 
 The scurf, ach in your bones, to grow upon 
 
 you, 
 And hasten on your fate with too much 
 
 sparing : 
 
 When a cheap purge, a vomit, and good diet, 
 May lengthen it. Give me but leave to send 
 The emperor's doctor to you. 
 
 Phil. I'll be borne first, 
 Half rotten, to the fire that must consume me ! 
 His pills, his cordials, his electuaries, 
 His syrups, julaps, bezoar stone, nor his 
 Imagined unicorn's horn, comes in my belly ; 
 My mouth shall be a draught first, 'tis re- 
 solved. 
 
 No ; I'll not lessen my dear golden heap, 
 Which, every hour increasing, does renew 
 My youth and vigor ; but, if lessen 'd, then, 
 Then my poor heart-strings crack. Let me 
 
 enjoy it, 
 
 And brood o'er't, while I live, it being my life, 
 My soul, my all : but when I turn to dust, 
 And part from what is more esteem'd, by me, 
 Than all the gods Rome's thousand altars 
 
 smoke to, 
 
 Inherit thou my adoration of it, 
 And, like me, serve my idol. {Exit. 
 
 Parth. What a strange torture 
 Is avarice to itself ! what man, that looks on 
 Such a penurious spectacle, but must 
 Know what the fable meant of Tantalus, 
 Or the ass whose back is crack'd with curious 
 
 viands, 
 
 Yet feeds on thistles. Some course I must take, 
 To make my father know what cruelty 
 He uses on himself. 
 
 Enter Paris. 
 
 Par. Sir, with your pardon, 
 I make bold to enquire the emperor's pleasure ; 
 For, being by him commanded to attend, 
 Your favour may instruct us what's his will 
 Shall be this night presented. 
 
 Parth. My loved Paris, 
 Without my intercession, you well know, 
 You may make your own approaches, since 
 
 his ear 
 To you is ever open. 
 
 Par. I acknowledge 
 
 His clemency to my weakness, and, if ever 
 I do abuse it, lightning strike me dead ! 
 The grace he pleases to confer upon me, 
 (Without boast I may say so much,) was never 
 Employ'd to wrong the innocent, or to incense 
 His fury. 
 
 Parth. 'Tis confess'd : many men owe you 
 For provinces they ne'er hoped for ; and 
 
 their lives, 
 
 Forfeited to his anger : you being absent, 
 I could say more. 
 
 Par. You still are my good patron ; 
 And, lay it in my fortune to deserve it, 
 You should perceive the poorest of your clients 
 To his best abilities thankful. 
 
 Parth. I believe so. 
 Met you my father ? 
 
 Par. Yes, sir, with much grief, 
 To see him as he is. Can nothing work him 
 To be himself? 
 
 Parth. O, Paris, 'tis a weight 
 Sits heavy here ; and could this right hand's 
 
 loss 
 
 Remove it, it should off : but he is deaf 
 To all persuasion. 
 
 Par. Sir, with your pardon, 
 I'll offer my advice : I once observed, 
 In a tragedy of ours, in which a murder 
 Was acted to the life, a guilty hearer, 
 Forced by the terror of a wounded conscience, 
 To make discovery of that which torture 
 Could not wringfrom him. Nor can it appear 
 Like an impossibility, but that 
 Your father, looking on a covetous man 
 Presented on the stage, as in a mirror, 
 May see his own deformity, and loath it. 
 Now, could you but persuade the emperor 
 To see a comedy we have, that's styled 
 The Cure of Avarice, and to command 
 Your father to be a spectator of it, 
 He shall be so anatomized in the scene, 
 And see himself so personated, the baseness 
 Of a self-torturing miserable wretch 
 Truly described, that I much hope the object 
 Will work compunction in him. 
 
 Parth. There's your fee ; 
 I ne'er bought better counsel. Be you in 
 
 readiness, 
 I will effect the rest. 
 
 Par. Sir, when you please ; 
 We'll be prepar'd to enter. Sir, the emperor. 
 
 \_Exit. 
 
 nterCsesar, Aretinus, and Guard. 
 
 Cces. Repine at us ! 
 Aret. 'Tis more, or my informers, 
 That keep strict watch upon him, are deceived 
 In their intelligence : there is a list 
 Of malcontents, as Junius Rusticus, 
 Palphurius Sura, and this ^Elius Lamia, 
 That murmur at your triumphs, as mere 
 
 pageants ; 
 And, at their midnight meetings, tax your 
 
 justice, 
 
 (For so I style what they call tyranny,) 
 For Paetus Thrasea's death, as if in him 
 Virtue herself were murdered : nor iorget 
 
 they 
 
 Agricola, who, for his service done 
 In the reducing Britain to obedience, 
 
202 
 
 THE ROMAN ACTOR. 
 
 They dare affirm to be removed \vith poison 
 And he compell'd to write you a coheir 
 With his daughter, that his testament might 
 
 stand, 
 Which, else, you had made void. Then 
 
 your much love 
 
 To Julia your niece, censured as incest, 
 And done in scorn of Titus, your dead 
 
 brother : 
 
 But the divorce Lamia was forced to sign 
 To her you honour with Augusta's title, 
 Being only named, they do conclude there was 
 A Lucrece once, a Co'llatine, and a Brutus ; 
 But nothing Roman left now but, in you, 
 The lust of Tarquin. 
 
 C&s. Yes, his fire, and scorn 
 Of such as think that our unlimited power 
 Can be confined. Dares Lamia pretend 
 An interest to that which I call mine ; 
 Or but remember she was ever his, 
 That's now in our possession? Fetch him 
 
 hither. [Exit Guard. 
 
 I'll give him cause to wish he rather had 
 Forgot his own name, than e'er mention'd 
 
 hers. 
 Shall we be circumscribed? Let such as 
 
 cannot 
 By force make good their actions, though 
 
 wicked, 
 
 Conceal, excuse, or qualify their crimes ! 
 What our desires grant leave and privilege to, 
 Though contradicting all divine decrees, 
 Or laws confirm'd by Romulus and Numa, 
 Shall be held sacred. 
 
 Aret. You should, else, take from 
 The dignity of Caesar. 
 
 Cess. Am I master 
 Of two and thirty legions, that awe 
 All nations of the triumphed world, 
 Yet tremble at our frown, to yield account 
 Of what's our pleasure, to a private man ! 
 Rome perish first, and Atlas's shoulders 
 
 shrink, 
 Heaven's fabric fall, (the sun, the moon, 
 
 the stars 
 
 Losing their light and comfortable heat,) 
 Ere I confess that any fault of mine 
 May be disputed ! 
 
 A ret. So you preserve your power, 
 As you should, equal and omnipotent here, 
 With Jupiter's above. 
 
 [Parthenius kneeling, whispers Caesar. 
 CCBS. Thy suit is granted, 
 Whate'er it be, Parthenius, for thy service 
 
 Done to Augusta. Only so ? a trifle : 
 
 Command him hither. If the comedy fail 
 Tocure him, I will minister something tohim 
 That shall instruct him to forget his gold, 
 And think upon himself. 
 
 Parth. May it succeed well, 
 Since my intents are pious ! {Exit. 
 
 C&s. We are resolved 
 What course to take; and, therefore, 
 
 Aretinus, 
 
 Enquire no further. Go you to my empress, 
 And say I do entreat (for she rules him 
 Whom all men else obey) she would 
 
 vouchsafe 
 
 The music of her voice at yonder window, 
 When I advance my hand, thus. I will 
 
 blend [Exit Aretinus. 
 
 My cruelty with some scorn, or else 'tis lost. 
 Revenge, when it is unexpected, falling 
 With greater violence ; and hate clothed in 
 
 smiles, 
 Strikes, and with horror, dead the wretch 
 
 that comes not 
 Prepared to meet it. 
 
 Re-enter Guard with Lamia. 
 
 Our good Lamia, welcome. 
 So much we owe you for a benefit, 
 With willingness on your part conferr'd 
 
 upon us, 
 
 That 'tis our study, we that would not live 
 Engaged to any for a courtesy, 
 How to return 'it. 
 
 Lam. 'Tis beneath your fate 
 To be obliged, that in your own hand grasp 
 The means to be magnificent. 
 
 Cces. Well put off; 
 
 But yet it must not do : the empire, Lamia, 
 Divided equally, can hold no weight, 
 
 If balanced with your gift in fair Domitia 
 
 You, that could part with all delights at 
 
 once, 
 The magazine of rich pleasures being con- 
 
 tain'd 
 
 In her perfections, uncompell'd, deliver'd 
 As a present fit for Ccesar. In your eyes, 
 With tears of joy, not sorrow, 'tis confirm'd 
 You glory in your act. 
 Lam. Derided too ! 
 
 Sir, this is more 
 
 CCBS. More than I can requite ; 
 It is acknowledged, Lamia. There's no drop 
 Of melting nectar I taste from her lip, 
 But yields a touch of immortality 
 To the blest receiver ; every grace and 
 
 feature, 
 
 Prized to the worth, bought at an easy rate, 
 If purchased for a consulship. Her dis- 
 course 
 
 So ravishing, and her action so attractive, 
 That I would part with all my other senses, 
 Provided I might ever see and' hear her. 
 The pleasures of her bed I dare not trust 
 
THE ROMAN ACTOR. 
 
 203 
 
 The winds or air with ; for that would draw 
 
 down, 
 
 In envy of my happiness, a war 
 From all the gods upon me. 
 
 Lam. Your compassion 
 To me, in your forbearing to insult 
 On mycalamity, which you make your sport, 
 Would more appease those gods you have 
 
 provoked, 
 
 Than all the blasphemous comparisons 
 You sing unto her praise. 
 
 Domitia appears at the "window, 
 
 Cas. I sing her praise ! 
 'Tis far from my ambition to hope it ; 
 It being a debt she only can lay down, 
 And no tongue else discharge. 
 
 [He raises his hand. Music above. 
 
 Hark ! I think, prompted 
 
 With my consent that you once more should 
 
 hear her, 
 
 She does begin. An universal silence 
 Dwell on this place ! 'Tis death, with linger- 
 ing torments, 
 To all that dare disturb her. 
 
 A SONG by Domitia. 
 
 Who can hear this, 
 
 And fall not down and worship ? In my fancy, 
 Apollo being judge, on Latinos' hill 
 Fair-hair'd Calliope, on her ivory lute, 
 (But something short of this,) sung Ceres' 
 
 praises, 
 
 And grisly Pluto's rape on Proserpine. 
 The motions of the spheres are out of time, 
 Her musical notes but heard. Say, Lamia, 
 
 say, 
 Is not her voice angelical? 
 
 Lam. To your ear : 
 But I, alas ! am silent. 
 
 Cces. Be so ever, 
 
 That without admiration canst hear her ! 
 Malice to my felicity strikes thee dumb, 
 And, in thy hope, or wish, to repossess 
 What I love more than empire, I pronounce 
 
 thee 
 Guilty of treason. Off with his head ! do 
 
 you stare ? 
 
 By her that is my patroness, Minerva, 
 Whose statue I adore of all the gods, 
 If he but live to make reply, thy life 
 Shall answer it ! 
 
 [ The Guard leads off Lamia, 
 stopping his mouth. 
 My fears of him are freed now ; 
 And he that lived to upbraid me with my 
 
 wrong, 
 For an offence he never could imagine, 
 
 In wantonness removed. Descend, my 
 
 dearest ; 
 
 Plurality of husbands shall no more 
 Breed doubts or jealousies in you : [Exit 
 
 Dom. above.~\ 'tis dispatch'd, 
 And with as little trouble here, as if 
 I had kill'd a fly. 
 
 Enter Domitia, ushered in by Aretinus, her 
 train borne -up by Julia, Caenis, and Domi- 
 tilla. 
 
 Now you appear, and in 
 That glory you deserve ! and these, that stoop 
 To do you service, in the act much honour'd ! 
 Julia, forget that Titus was thy father ; 
 Caenis, and Domitilla, ne'er remember 
 Sabinus or Vespasian. To be slaves 
 To her is more true liberty, than to live 
 Parthian or Asian queens. As lesser stars, 
 That wait on Phoebe in her full of brightness, 
 Compared to her, you are. Thus, thus I 
 
 seat you 
 By Caesar's side, commanding these, that 
 
 once 
 
 Were the adored glories of the time, 
 To witness to the world they are your vassals, 
 At your feet to attend you. 
 Dom. 'Tis your pleasure, 
 And not my pride. And yet, when I consider 
 That I am yours, all duties they can pay 
 I do receive as circumstances due 
 To her you please to honour. 
 
 Re-enter Parthenius with Philargus. 
 
 Parth. Caesar's will 
 
 Commands you hither, nor must you gain- 
 say it. 
 
 Phil. Lose time to see an interlude ! must 
 I pay too, 
 
 For my vexation? 
 Parth. Not in the court : 
 
 It is the emperor's charge. 
 Phil. I shall endure 
 
 My torment then the bettei 
 Cas. Can it be 
 
 This sordid thing, Parthenius, is thy father? 
 
 No actor can express him : I had held 
 
 The fiction for impossible in the scene, 
 
 Had I not seen the substance. Sirrah, sit 
 still, 
 
 And give attention ; if you but nod, 
 
 You sleep for ever. Let them spare the 
 prologue, 
 
 And all the ceremonies proper to ourself, 
 
 And come to the last act there, where the 
 cure 
 
 By the doctor is made perfect. The swift 
 minutes 
 
 Seem years to me, Domitia, that divorce thee 
 
20 4 
 
 THE ROMAN ACTOR. 
 
 From my embraces : my desires increasing 
 As they are satisfied, all pleasures else 
 -Are tedious as dull sorrows. Kiss me again : 
 If I now wanted heat of youth, these fires, 
 In Priam 's veins, would thaw his frozen blood, 
 Enabling him to get a second Hector 
 !For the defence of Troy. 
 
 Dom. You are wanton ! 
 Pray you, forbear. Let me see the play. 
 Ctss. Begin there. 
 
 JSnter Paris, like a doctor of physic, and 
 ^Esopus : Latinus is brought forth asleep 
 in a chair, a key in his mouth, 
 
 JEsop. O master doctor, he is past recovery ; 
 ^4 lethargy hath seized him ; and, however 
 JHis sleep resemble death, his watchful care 
 To guard that treasure he dares make no 
 
 use of, 
 Works strongly in his soul. 
 
 Par. What' s that he holds 
 .So fast between his teeth f 
 
 .Esop. The key that opens 
 His iron chests, cramm'dwith accursed gold, 
 Rusty with long imprisonment. There's no 
 
 duty 
 
 .In me, his son, nor confidence in friends, 
 That can persuade him to deliver up 
 That to the trust of any. 
 
 Phil. He is the wiser : 
 We were fashion'd in one mould. 
 
 JEsop. He eats with it; 
 And when devotion calls him to the temple 
 Of Mammon, whom, of all the gods, he 
 
 kneels to, 
 
 THAT held thus still, his orisons are paid : 
 Nor will he, though the wealth of Rome 
 
 were pawn d 
 
 For tJie restoring of 't, for one short hour 
 Be won to part with it. 
 
 Phil. Still, still myself! 
 And if like me he love his gold, no pawn 
 Is good security. 
 
 Par. /'// try if I can force it 
 
 // will not be. His avaricious mind, 
 Like men in rivers drown d, make him 
 
 gripe fast, 
 
 To his last gasp, what he in life held dearest; 
 And, if that it were possible in nature, 
 Would carry it with him to the other world. 
 
 Phil. As I would do to hell, rather than 
 leave it. 
 
 JEsop. Is he not dead ? 
 
 Par. Long since to all good actions, 
 Or to himself, or others, for which wise men 
 Desire to live. You may with safety pinch 
 
 him, 
 
 Or under his nails stick needles, yet he stirs 
 not; 
 
 Anxious fear to lose what his soul doats on, 
 Renders his flesh insensible. We must use 
 Some means to rouse the sleeping faculties 
 Of his mind ; there lies the lethargy. Take 
 
 a trumpet, 
 
 And blow it into his ears; 'tis to no purpose ; 
 The roaring noise of thunder cannot wake 
 
 him : 
 And yet despair not; I haveonetrick left yet. 
 
 JEsop. What is it? 
 
 Par. / will cause a fearful dream 
 To steal into his fancy, and disturb it 
 With the horror it brings with it, and so free 
 His body's organs. 
 
 Dom. 'Tis a cunning fellow ; 
 If he were indeed a doctor, as the play says, 
 He should be sworn my servant ; govern 
 
 my slumbers, 
 And minister to me waking. 
 
 Par. If this fail, \A chest brought in. 
 JT II give him o'er. So ; with all violence 
 Rend ope this iron chest, for here his life lies 
 Bound up in fetters, and in the defence 
 Of what he values higher, 'twill return, 
 And fill each vein and artery. Louder yet I 
 ' Tis open, and already he begins 
 To stir ; mark with what trouble. 
 
 [Latinus stretches himself. 
 
 Phil. As you are Caesar, 
 Defend this honest, thrifty man ! they are 
 
 thieves, 
 And come to rob him. 
 
 Parth. Peace ! the emperor frowns. 
 
 Par. So ; now pour out the bags upon the 
 
 table; 
 
 Remove his jewels, and his bonds. Again, 
 Ring a second golden peal. His eyes areopen ; 
 He stares as he had seen Medusa's head, 
 And were turn'd marble. Once more. 
 
 Lat. Murder ! murder I 
 They come to murder me. My son in the 
 
 plot? 
 
 Thou worse than parricide ! if it be death 
 To strike thy father's body, can all tortures 
 The Furies in hell practise, be sufficient 
 For thee, that dost assassinate my soul ? 
 My gold / my bonds ! my jewels / dost thou 
 
 envy 
 
 My glad possession of them for a day ; 
 Extinguishing the taper of my life 
 Consumed uiito the snuff ; 
 
 Par. Seem not to mind him. 
 
 Lat. Have I, to leave thee rich, denied 
 
 myself 
 The joys of human being ; scraped and 
 
 hoarded 
 
 A mass of treasure, which had Solon seen, 
 The Lydian Crozsus had appeared to him 
 Poor as the beggar Irus ? And yet I, 
 
THE ROMAN ACTOR. 
 
 205 
 
 Solicitous to increase it, when -my entrails 
 Were clemm'd with keeping a perpetual fast, 
 Wasdeaftotheirloudwindy cries, as fearing, 
 Should I disburse one penny to their use, 
 My heir might curse me. And, to save 
 
 expense 
 
 In outward ornaments, I did expose 
 My naked body to the winter's cold, 
 And summers scorching heat : nay, when 
 
 diseases 
 
 Grew thick upon me, and a little cost 
 Had purchased my recovery, I chose rather 
 To have my ashes closed up in my Tirn, 
 By hasting on my fate, than to diminish 
 The gold my prodigal son, while I am living, 
 Carelessly scatters. 
 ^Esop. Would you'd dispatch and die 
 
 once! 
 Your ghost should fee litt hell, THAT is my 
 
 slave 
 
 Which was your master. 
 Phil. Out upon thee, varlet ! 
 Par. A nd what then follows all your carke 
 
 and caring, 
 And self -affliction ? When your starved 
 
 trunk is 
 
 Turn'd to forgotten dust, this hopeful youth 
 Urines upon yo^lr monument, ne'er remem- 
 bering 
 How much for him you suffer d ; and then 
 
 tells, 
 
 To the companions of his lusts and riots, 
 The hell you did endure on earth, to leave 
 
 him 
 
 Large means to be an epicure, and to feast 
 His senses all at once, a happiness 
 You never granted to yourself . Yo^tr gold, 
 
 then, 
 Got with vexation, and preserved with 
 
 trouble, 
 Maintains the public stews, panders, and 
 
 ruffians, 
 
 That qiiaff damnations to your memory, 
 For living so long here. 
 
 Lat. // -will be so ; I see it 
 O, that I could redeem the time that's past ! 
 I would live and die like myself ; and make 
 
 true use 
 Of what my industry purchased. 
 
 Par. Covetous men, 
 
 Having one foot in the grave, lament so ever : 
 But grant that I by art could yet recover 
 Your desperate sickness, lengthen out your 
 
 life 
 
 A dozen of years ; as I restore your body 
 To perfect health, will you with care en- 
 deavour 
 
 To rectify your mind f 
 Lat. / should so live then, 
 
 As neither my heir should have just cause to 
 
 think 
 
 I lived too long, for being close-handed to him,. 
 Or cruel to myself. 
 
 Par. Have your desires. 
 Phcebits assisting me, I will repair 
 The ruin'd building of your health; and 
 
 think not 
 
 You have a son that hates you ; the truth is, 
 This means, with his consent, I practised on 
 
 you 
 
 To this good end : it being a device, 
 In you to shew the Cure of Avarice. 
 
 [Exeunt Paris, Latinus, and JEsopns. 
 
 Phil. An old fool, to be gull'd thus ! had, 
 
 he died 
 
 As I resolve to do, not to be alter'd, 
 It had gone off twanging. 
 
 Cess. How approve you, sweetest, 
 Of the matter and the actors? 
 
 Dom. For the subject, 
 I like it not ; it was filch'd out of Horace. 
 Nay, I have read the poets : but the fellow 
 That play'd the doctor, did it well, by Venus : 
 He had a tuneable tongue, and neat de- 
 livery : 
 
 And yet, in my opinion, he would perform 
 A lover's part much better. Prithee, Caesar, 
 For I grow weary, let us see, to-morrow, 
 Iphis and Anaxarete. 
 
 Cces. Any thing 
 
 For thy delight, Domitia ; to your rest, 
 Till I come to disquiet you : wait upon her. 
 There is a business that I must dispatch, 
 And I will straight be with you. [Exeunt. 
 Aret. Dom. Julia, Caenis, and Domitil. 
 
 Parth. Now, my dread sir, 
 Endeavour to prevail. 
 
 Cces. One way or other 
 We'll cure him, never doubt it. Now, 
 
 Philargus, 
 Thou wretched thing, hast thou seen thy 
 
 sordid baseness, 
 And but observed what a contemptible 
 
 creature 
 
 A covetous miser is ? Dost thou in thyself 
 Feel true compunction, with a resolution 
 To be a new man? 
 
 Phil. This crazed body's Caesar's ; 
 But for my mind 
 
 Cces. Trifle not with my anger. 
 Canst thou make good use of what was now 
 
 presented ; 
 
 And imitate, in thy sudden change of life, 
 The miserable rich man, that express'd 
 What thou art to the life ? 
 
 Phil. Pray you, give me leave 
 To die as I have lived. I must not part with 
 My gold ; it is my life : I am past cure. 
 
:o8 
 
 THE ROMAN ACTOR. 
 
 .nd all those glorious constellations 
 That do adorn the firmament, appointed, 
 ike grooms, with their bright influence to 
 
 attend 
 
 The actions of kings and emperors, 
 They being the greater wheels that move 
 
 the less. 
 Bring forth those condemn'd wretches ; 
 
 [Exit Parthenius.] let me see 
 )ne man so lost, as but to pity them, 
 .nd though there lay a million of souls 
 mprison'd in his flesh, my hangmen's hooks 
 should rend it off, and give them liberty, 
 aesar hath said it. 
 
 Re-enter Parthenius, with Aretinus, and 
 
 Guard ; Executioners dragging in Junius 
 
 Rusticus and Palphurius Sura, bound back 
 
 to back. 
 
 Aret. 'Tis great Caesar's pleasure, 
 That with fix'd eyes you carefully observe 
 The people's looks. Charge upon any man 
 That with a sigh or murmur does express 
 A seeming sorrow for these traitors' deaths. 
 You know his will, perform it. 
 
 Cess. A good bloodhound, 
 And fit for my employments. 
 
 Sura. Give us leave 
 To die, fell tyrant. 
 
 Rust, For, beyond our bodies, 
 Thou hast no power. 
 
 Cces. Yes ; I'll afflict your souls, 
 And force them groaning to the Stygian lake, 
 Prepared for such to howl in, that blaspheme 
 The power of princes, that are gods on earth. 
 Tremble to think how terrible the dream is 
 After this sleep of death. 
 
 Rttst. To guilty men 
 It may bring terror : not to us, that know 
 What 'tis to die, well taught by his example 
 For whom we suffer. In my thought I see 
 The substance of that pure untainted soul 
 Of Thrasea, our master, made a star, 
 That with melodious harmony invites us 
 (Leaving this dunghill Rome, made hell by 
 
 thee) 
 
 To trace his heavenly steps, and fill a sphere 
 Above yon crystal canopy. 
 
 Cces. Do invoke him 
 With all the aids his sanctity of life 
 Have won on the rewarders of his virtue ; 
 Theyshall not save you. Dogs, do you grin 
 torment them. 
 
 [ The Executioners torment them, they 
 
 still smiling. 
 
 So, take a leaf of Seneca now, and prove 
 If it can render you insensible 
 Of that which but begins here. Now an oil, 
 Drawn from the Stoic's frozen principles, 
 
 Predominant over fire, were useful for you. 
 Again, again. You trifle. Not a groan ! 
 ts my rage lost ? What cursed charms defend 
 
 them ! 
 Search deeper, villains. Who looks pale, or 
 
 thinks 
 That I am cruel ? 
 
 Aret. Over-merciful : 
 Tis all your weakness, sir. 
 Parth. I dare not shew 
 A sign of sorrow ; yet my sinews shrink, 
 The spectacle is so horrid. [Aside. 
 
 Cess. I was never 
 
 O'ercome till now. For my sake roar a little, 
 And shew you are corporeal, and not turn'd 
 Aerial spirits. Will it not do ? By Pallas, 
 It is unkindly done to mock his fury 
 Whom the world styles Omnipotent ! I am, 
 
 tortured 
 In their want of feeling torments. Marius' 
 
 story, 
 
 That does report him to have sat unmoved, 
 When cunning surgeons ripp'd his arteries 
 And veins, to cure his gout, compared to this, 
 Deserves not to be named. Are they not 
 
 dead? 
 
 If so, we wash an ^Ethiop. 
 Sura. No ; we live. 
 
 Rust. Live to deride thee, our calm pa- 
 tience treading 
 
 Upon the neck of tyranny. That securely,. 
 As 'twere a gentle slumber, we endure 
 Thy hangman's studied tortures, is a debt 
 We owe to grave philosophy, that instructs us. 
 The flesh is but the clothing of the soul, 
 Which growing out of fashion, though it be 
 Cast off, or rent, or torn, like ours, 'tis then. 
 Being itself divine, in her best lustre. 
 But unto such as thou, that have no hopes 
 Beyond the present, every little scar, 
 The want of rest, excess of heat or cold, 
 That does inform them only they are mortal, 
 Pierce through and through them. 
 Cces. We will hear no more. 
 Rust. This only, and I give thee warning- 
 
 of it : 
 
 Though it is in thy will to grind this earth 
 As small as atoms, they thrown in the sea 
 
 too, 
 
 They shall seem re-collected to thy sense : 
 And, when the sandy building of thy greatness 
 Shall with its own weight totter, look to see 
 
 me 
 
 As I was yesterday, in my perfect shape ^ 
 For I'll appear in horror. 
 
 Cces. By my shaking 
 I am the guilty man, and not the judge, 
 Drag from my sight these cursed ominous 
 wizards, 
 
THE ROMAN ACTOR. 
 
 209 
 
 That, as they are now, like to double-faced 
 
 Janus, 
 
 Which way soe'er I look, are Furies to me. 
 Away with them ! first shew them death, 
 
 then leave 
 
 No memory of their ashes. I'll mock Fate. 
 
 \Exeunt Executioners with 
 
 Rusticus and Sura. 
 
 Shall words fright him victorious armies 
 
 circle ? 
 No, no ; the fever does begin to leave me ; 
 
 uter Domitia., Julia, andCzenis', Stephanos 
 following. 
 
 Or, were it deadly, from this living fountain 
 I could renew the vigour of my youth, 
 And be a second Virbius. O my glory ! 
 My life ! command ! my all ! 
 
 Dom. As you to me are. 
 
 [^Embracing and kissing. 
 I beard you were sad : I have prepared you 
 
 sport 
 
 Will banish melancholy. Sirrah, Caesar, 
 (I hug myself fort,) I have been instructing 
 The players how to act ; and to cut off 
 All tedious impertinence, have contracted 
 The tragedy into one continued scene. 
 I have the art oft, and am taken more 
 With my ability that way, than all knowledge 
 I have but of thy love. 
 
 Cess. Thou art still thyself, 
 The sweetest, wittiest, 
 
 Dom. When we are abed 
 I'll thank your good opinion. Thou shalt see 
 Such an Iphis of thy Paris ! and, to humble 
 The pride of Domitilla, that neglects me, 
 ^Howe'er she is your cousin,) I have forced 
 her 
 
 To play the part of Anaxarete 
 
 You are not offended with it ? 
 
 Cess. Any thing 
 
 That does content thee yields delight to me : 
 My faculties and powers are thine. 
 
 Dom. I thank you : 
 
 Prithee let's take our places. Bid them enter 
 Without more circumstance. 
 
 After a short flourish, enter Paris as Iphis. 
 
 How do you like 
 
 That shape ? methinks it is most suitable 
 To the aspect of a despairing lover 
 The seeming late-fallen, counterfeited tears 
 That hang upon his cheeks, was my device. 
 
 CCBS. And all was excellent. 
 
 Dom. Now hear him speak. 
 
 Iphis. That she is fair, (and that an 
 
 epithet 
 
 Too foul to express her,} or descended nobly, 
 Or rich, or fortunate, are certain truths 
 
 In which poor Iphis glories. But that these 
 Perfections, in no other -virgin found, 
 Abused, should nourish cruelty and pride 
 In the divinest Anaxarete, 
 Is, to my love-sick, languishing soul, a riddle; 
 And with more difficulty to be dissolvd, 
 Than that the monster Sphinx, from the 
 
 steep rock, 
 
 Offer d to (Edipus. Imperious Love, 
 As at thy ever/laming altars Iphis, 
 Thy never-tired votary, hath presented, 
 With scalding tears, whole hecatombs of 
 
 sighs, 
 Preferring thy power, and thy Paphian 
 
 mother s, 
 
 Before the Thunderer's, Neptune's, or Pluto's 
 ( That, after Saturn, did divide the world, 
 And had the sway of things, yet were com- 
 
 pell'd 
 
 By thy inevitable shafts to yield, 
 And fight under thy ensigns) be auspicious 
 To this last trial of my sacrifice 
 Of love and service ! 
 
 Dom. Does he not act it rarely ? 
 Observe with what a feeling he delivers 
 His orisons to Cupid ; I am rapt with't. 
 Iphis. And from thy never-emptied quiver 
 
 take 
 
 A golden arrow, to transfix her heart, 
 And force her love like me; or cure my wound 
 With a leaden one, that may beget in me 
 Hate and forgetfulness of what's noiu my 
 
 idol 
 
 But I call back my prayer ; I have blas- 
 phemed 
 
 In my rash wish : 'tis I that am unworthy ; 
 But she all merit, and may in justice chal- 
 lenge, 
 
 From the assurance of her excellencies, 
 Not love but adoration. Yet, bear witness, 
 All-knowing Powers ! I bring along with me, 
 As faithful advocates to make intercession, 
 A loyal heart with pure and holy flames, 
 With the foul fires of hist never polluted. 
 And, as I touch her threshold, which with 
 
 tears, 
 My limbs benumb' d with cold, I oft have 
 
 wash'd, 
 With my glad lips I kiss this earth, grown 
 
 proud 
 
 With frequent favours from her delicate feet. 
 Dom. By Caesar's life he weeps ! and I 
 
 forbear 
 Hardly to keep him company. 
 
 Iphis. Blest ground, thy pardon, 
 If I profane it with forbidden steps. 
 I must presume to knock and yet attempt it 
 With such a trembling reverence, as if 
 My hands [were now\ held up for expiation 
 
THE ROMAN ACTOR. 
 
 To the incensed gods to spare a kingdom. 
 Within there, ho! something divine come 
 
 forth 
 To a distressed mortal. 
 
 Enter Latinus as a Porter. 
 
 Port. Ha! Who knocks there ? 
 Dom. What a churlish look this knave has ! 
 Port. Is 't you, sirrah ? 
 Are you come to pule and whine ? Avaunt, 
 
 and quickly ; 
 Dog-whips shall drive you hence, else. 
 
 Dom. Churlish devil ! 
 
 But that I should disturb the scene, as I live 
 I would tear his eyes out. 
 Cess. 'Tis in jest, Domitia. 
 Dom. I do not like such jesting : if he 
 
 were not 
 
 A flinty-hearted slave, he could not use 
 One of his form so harshly. How the toad 
 
 swells 
 At the other's sweet humility ! 
 
 Cess. 'Tis his part : 
 Let them proceed. 
 
 Dom. A rogue's part will ne'er leave him. 
 Iphis. As you have, gentle sir, the happi- 
 ness 
 
 ( When you please] to behold the figure of 
 The masterpiece of nature, limn d to the life, 
 \ In more than human Anaxarete, 
 Scorn not your servant, that with suppliant 
 
 hands 
 Takes hold -upon your knees, conjuring 
 
 you, 
 
 As you are a. man, and did not suck the milk 
 Of wolves, and tigers, or a mother of 
 A tougher temper, use some means these eyes, 
 Before they are wept out, may see your lady. 
 Will you be gracious, sir? 
 
 Port. Though I lose my plaeefort, 
 I can hold out no longer. 
 
 Dom. Now he melts, 
 
 There is some little hope he may die honest. 
 Port. Madam! 
 
 Enter Domitilla as Anaxarete. 
 
 Anax. Who calls ? What object have we 
 
 here* 
 Dom. Your cousin keeps her proud state 
 
 still ; I think 
 I have fitted her for a part. 
 
 Anax. Did I not charge thee 
 I ne'er might see this thing more ? 
 
 Iphis. / am, indeed, 
 What thing you please ; a worm that you 
 
 may tread on : 
 
 Lower I cannot fall to show my duty, 
 Till your disdain hath digg'd a grave to 
 
 This body with forgotten dust ; and, when 
 I know your sentence, cruellest of women ! 
 I'll, by a willing death, remove the object 
 That is an eyesore to you. 
 
 Anax. Wretch, ihou dar'st not : 
 That were the last and greatest service to me 
 Thy doting love could boast of. What dull 
 
 fool 
 
 But thott could nourish any flattering hope, 
 One of my height in youth, in birth and for- 
 tune, 
 
 Could e'er descend to look upon thy lowness, 
 Much less consent to make my lord of one 
 I'd not accept, though offer d for my slave t 
 My thoughts stoop not so low. 
 
 Dom. There's her true nature : 
 No personated scorn. 
 
 Anax. / wrovg my worth, 
 Or to exchange a syllable or look 
 With one so far beneath me. 
 
 Iphis. Yet take heed, 
 
 Take heed of pride, and curiously consider, 
 How brittle the foundation is, on which 
 You labour to advance it. Niobe, 
 Proud of her numerous issue, durst contemn 
 Latona's double burthen ; but what follow' d? 
 She was left a childless mother, and mourn d 
 
 to marble. 
 
 The beauty you o'erprize so, time or sickness 
 Can change to loath' d deformity; your wealth 
 The prey of thieves ; queen Hecuba, Troy 
 
 fired, 
 Ulysses bondwoman : but the love I bring 
 
 you 
 Nor time, nor sickness, violent thieves, nor 
 
 fate, 
 Can ravish from you. 
 
 Dom. Could the oracle 
 Give better counsel ! 
 
 Iphis. Say, will you relent yet, 
 Revoking your decree that I should die ? 
 Or, shall I do what you command ? resolve ,- 
 I am impatient of delay. 
 
 Anax. Dispatch then : 
 I shall look on your tragedy unmoved, 
 Peradventure laugh at it ; for it will prove 
 A comedy to me. 
 
 Dom. O devil ! devil ! 
 
 Iphis. Then thus I take my last leave. 
 
 A II the curses 
 
 Of lovers fall upon you ; and, hereafter, 
 When any man, like me contemn d, shall 
 
 study, 
 
 In the anguish of his sou/, to give a name 
 To a scornful, cruel mistress, let him only 
 Say, This most bloody woman is to me. 
 
 As Anaxarete was to wretched Iphis ! 
 
 Now feast your tyrannous mind, and glory 
 
THE ROMAN ACTOR. 
 
 The ruins you have made: for Hymens 
 
 bands, 
 That should have made us one, this fatal 
 
 halter 
 
 For ever shall divorce us : at your gate, 
 As a trophy of your pride and my affliction, 
 I'll presently hang myself. 
 
 Dom. Not for the world 
 
 {Starts from her seat. 
 Restrain him, as you love your lives ! 
 
 Cess. Why .are you 
 
 Transported thus, Domitia ? 'tis a play ; 
 Or, grant it serious, it at no part merits 
 This passion in you. 
 
 Par. I ne'er purposed, madam, 
 To do the deed in earnest ; though I bow 
 To your care and tenderness of me. 
 
 Dom. Let me, sir, 
 
 Entreat your pardon ; what I saw presented, 
 Carried me beyond myself. 
 
 Cess. To your place again, 
 And see what follows. 
 
 Dom. No, I am familiar 
 With the conclusion ; besides, upon the 
 
 sudden 
 I feel myself much indisposed. 
 
 Cces. To bed then ; 
 I'll be thy doctor. 
 
 Arel. There is something more 
 In this than passion, which I must find out, 
 Or my intelligence freezes. 
 
 Dom. Come to me, Paris, 
 To-morrow, for your reward. 
 {Exeunt all but Domitilla and Stephanos. 
 
 Steph. Patroness, hear me ; 
 Will you not call for your share ? Sit down 
 
 with this, 
 And, the next action, like a Gaditane 
 
 strumpet, 
 I shall look to see you tumble ! 
 
 Domitil. Prithee be patient. 
 I, that have suffer'd greater wrongs, bear 
 
 this ; 
 And that, till my revenge, my comfort is. 
 
 {Exeunt. 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 SCENE I. A Room in the Palace. 
 
 Enter Parthenius, Julia, Domitilla, and 
 Caenis. 
 
 Parth. Why, 'tis impossible. Paris ! 
 
 Jul. You observed not, 
 As it appears, the violence of her passion, 
 When personating Iphis, he pretended, 
 For your contempt, fair Anaxarete, 
 To hang himself. 
 
 Parth. Yes, yes, I noted that ; 
 
 But never could imagine it could work her 
 To such a strange intemperance of affection. 
 As to doat on him. 
 
 Domitil. By my hopes, I think not 
 That she respects, though all here saw, and 
 
 mark'd it ; 
 
 Presuming she can mould the emperor's will 
 Into what form she likes, though we, and all 
 The informers of the world, conspired to 
 cross iti 
 
 Can. Then with what eagerness, this 
 
 morning, urging 
 
 The want of health and rest, she did entreat 
 Caesar to leave her ! 
 
 Domitil. Who no sooner absent, 
 But she calls, Dwarf! (so in her scorn she 
 
 styles me,) 
 
 Put on my pantofles ; fetch pen and paper, 
 I am to write : and with distracted looks, 
 In her smock, impatient of so short delay 
 As but to have a mantle thrown upon her, 
 She seal'd I know not what, but 'twas in- 
 dorsed, 
 To my loved Paris. 
 
 Jul. Add to this, I heard her 
 Say, when a page received it, Let him -wait me t 
 A nd carefully, in thewalk call'd our Retreat, 
 Where Ctesar, in his fear to give offence, 
 Unsent for, never enters. 
 
 Parth. This being certain, 
 (For these are more than jealous supposi- 
 tions,) 
 
 Why do not you, that are so near in blood. 
 Discover it ? 
 
 Domitil. Alas ! you know we dare not. 
 'Twill be received for a malicious practice, 
 To free us from that slavery which her pride^ 
 Imposes on us. But, if you would please 
 To break the ice, on pain to be sunk ever. 
 We would aver it. 
 
 Parth. I would second you, 
 But that I am commanded with all speed 
 To fetch in Ascletario the Chaldsean ; 
 Who, in his absence, is condemn'd of treason. 
 For calculating the nativity 
 Of Caesar, with all confidence foretelling, 
 In every circumstance, when he shall die 
 A violent death. Yet, if you could approve 
 Of my directions, I would have you speak 
 As much to Aretinus, as you have 
 To me deliver 'd : he in his own nature 
 Being a spy, on weaker grounds, no doubt, 
 Will undertake it ; not for goodness' sake, 
 (With which he never yet held correspon- . 
 
 dence, ) 
 
 But to endear his vigilant observings 
 Of what concerns the emperor, and a little 
 To triumph in the ruins of this Paris, 
 That cross 'd him in the senate-house. 
 
 P2 
 
THE ROMAN ACTOR. 
 
 Enter Aretinus. 
 
 Here he comes, 
 His nose held up ; he hath something in the 
 
 wind, 
 
 Or I much err, already. My designs 
 Command mehence, great ladies ; but I leave 
 My wishes with you. [Exit. 
 
 Aret. Have I caught your Greatness 
 Jn the trap, my proud Augusta ! 
 
 Domitil. What is't raps him ? 
 
 Aret. And my fine Roman Actor ! Is't 
 
 even so? 
 
 No coarser dish to take your wanton palate, 
 Save that which, but the emperor, none 
 
 durst taste of ! 
 
 'Tis very well. I needs must glory in 
 This rare discovery : but the rewards 
 Of my intelligence bid me think, even now, 
 By an edict from Caesar, I have power 
 To tread upon the neck of slavish Rome, 
 Disposing offices and provinces 
 To my kinsmen, friends, and clients. 
 
 Domitil. This is more 
 Than usual with him. 
 
 Jul. Aretinus ! 
 
 Aret. How! 
 No more respect and reverence tender'd to 
 
 me, 
 
 But Aretinus! Tis confess'd that title, 
 When you were princesses, and commanded 
 
 all, 
 
 Had been a favour ; but being, as you are, 
 Vassals to aproud woman, the worst bondage, 
 You stand obliged with as much adoration 
 To entertain him, that comes arm'd with 
 
 strength 
 
 To break your fetters, as tann'd galley-slaves 
 Pay such as do redeem them from the oar. 
 I come not to entrap you ; but aloud 
 Pronounce that you are manumized : and 
 
 to make 
 
 Your liberty sweeter, you shall see her fall, 
 This empress, this Domitia, what you 
 
 will, 
 That triumph 'd in your miseries. 
 
 Domitil. Were you serious, 
 To prove your accusation I could lend 
 Some help. 
 
 Can. And I. 
 
 Jul. And I. 
 
 Aret. No atom to me. 
 My eyes and ears are every where ; I know all, 
 To the line and action in the play that took 
 
 her: 
 
 Her quick dissimulation to excuse 
 Her being transported, with her morning 
 
 passion. 
 . I bribed the boy that did convey the letter, 
 
 And, having perused it, made it up again : 
 Your griefs and angers are to me familiar. 
 That Paris is brought to her, and how far 
 He shall be tempted. 
 
 Domitil. This is above wonder. 
 
 Aret. My gold can work much stranger 
 
 miracles, 
 
 Than to corrupt poor waiters. Here, join 
 with me {Takes out a petition. 
 
 'Tis a complaint to Caesar. This is that 
 Shall ruin her, and raise you. Have you 
 
 set your hands 
 To the accusation ? 
 
 Jul. And will justify 
 What we've subscribed to. 
 
 C<zn. And with vehemence. 
 
 Domitil. I will deliver it. 
 
 Aret. Leave the rest to me then. 
 
 Enter Caesar, with his Guard. 
 
 C<zs. Let our lieutenants bring us victory, 
 While we enjoy the fruits of peace at home : 
 And being secured from our intestine foes, 
 (Far worse than foreign enemies,) doubts 
 
 and fears, 
 Though all the sky were hung with blazing 
 
 meteors, 
 
 Which fond astrologers give out to be 
 Assured presages of the change of empires, 
 And deaths of monarchs, we, undaunted yet, 
 Guarded with our own thunder, bid defiance 
 To them and fate ; we being too strongly 
 
 arm'd 
 For them to wound us. 
 
 Aret. Caesar ! 
 
 Jul. As thou art 
 More than a man 
 
 Can. Let not thy passions be 
 Rebellious to thy reason 
 
 Domitil. But receive 
 
 [Delivers the petition. 
 This trial of your constancy, as unmoved 
 As you go to or from the capitol, 
 Thanks given to Jove for triumphs. 
 
 C(BS. Ha! 
 
 Domitil. Vouchsafe 
 
 A while to stay the lightning of your eyes, 
 Poor mortals dare not look on. 
 
 Aret. There's no vein 
 Of yours that rises with high rage, but is 
 An earthquake to us. 
 
 Domitil. And, if not kept closed 
 With more than human patience, in a 
 
 moment 
 Will swallow us to the centre. 
 
 Ccen. Not that \ve 
 Repine to serve her, are we her accusers. 
 
 Jul. But that she's fallen so low. 
 
THE ROMAN ACTOR. 
 
 213 
 
 Aret. Which on sure proofs 
 We can make good. 
 
 Domitil. And shew she is unworthy 
 Of the least spark of that diviner fire 
 You have conferr'd upon her. 
 
 C<zs. I stand doubtful, 
 And unresolved what to determine of you. 
 In this malicious violence you have offer'd 
 To the altar of her truth and pureness tome, 
 You have but fruitlessly labour'd to sully 
 A white robe of perfection, black-mouth'd 
 
 envy 
 
 Could belch no spot on. But I will put off 
 The deity you labour to take from me, 
 And argue out of probabilities with you, 
 As if I were a man. Can I believe 
 That she, that borrows all her light from me, 
 And knows to use it, would betray her 
 
 darkness 
 
 To your intelligence; and make that ap- 
 parent, 
 
 Which, by her perturbations in a play, 
 Was yesterday but doubted, and find none 
 But you, that are her slaves, and therefore 
 
 hate her, 
 Whose aids she might employ to make way 
 
 for her? 
 
 Or Aretinus, whom long since she knew 
 To be the cabinet counsellor, nay, the key 
 Of Caesar's secrets? Could her beauty raise 
 
 her 
 
 To this unequall'd height, to make her fall 
 The more remarkable ? or must my desires 
 To her, and wrongs to Lamia, be revenged 
 By her, and on herself, that drew on both ? 
 Or she leave our imperial bed to court 
 A public actor ? 
 
 Aret. Who dares contradict 
 These more than human reasons, that have 
 
 power 
 To clothe base guilt in the most glorious 
 
 shape 
 Of innocence ? 
 
 Domitil. Too well she knew the strength 
 And eloquence of her patron to defend her, 
 And thereupon presuming, fell securely ; 
 Not fearing an accuser, nor the truth 
 Produced against her, which your love and 
 
 favour 
 Will ne'er discern from falsehood. 
 
 Cces. I'll not hear 
 
 A syllable more that may invite a change 
 In my opinion of her. You have raised 
 A fiercer war within me by this fable, 
 Though with your lives you vow to make it 
 
 story, 
 
 Than if, and at one instant, all my legions 
 Revolted from me, and came arm'd against 
 
 me. 
 
 Here in this paper are the swords pre- 
 destined 
 
 For my destruction ; here the fatal stars 
 That threaten more than ruin ; this the 
 
 Death's head 
 
 That does assure me, if she can prove false, 
 That I am mortal, which a sudden fever 
 Would prompt me to believe, and faintly 
 
 yield to. 
 But now in my full confidence what she 
 
 suffers, 
 
 In that, from any witness but myself, 
 I nourish a suspicion she's untrue, 
 My toughness returns to me. Lead on, 
 
 monsters, 
 
 And, by the forfeit of your lives, confirm 
 She is all excellence, as you all baseness ; 
 Or let mankind, for her fall, boldly swear 
 There are no chaste wives now, nor ever" 
 were. {Exeunt, 
 
 SCENE II. A private Walk in the 
 Gardens of the Palace. 
 
 Enter Domitia, Paris, and Servants. 
 
 Dom. Say we command, that none pre- 
 sume to dare, 
 
 On forfeit of our favour, that is life, 
 Out of a saucy curiousness, to stand 
 Within the distance of their eyes or ears, 
 Till we please to be waited on. 
 
 \E.xe^^nt Servants. 
 
 And, sirrah, 
 
 Howe'er you are excepted, let it not 
 Beget in you an arrogant opinion 
 'Tis done to grace you. 
 
 Par. With my humblest service 
 I but obey your summons, and should blush 
 
 else, 
 To be so near you. 
 
 Dom. "Twould become you rather 
 To fear the greatness of the grace vouch- 
 safed you 
 
 May overwhelm you ; and 'twill do no less, 
 If, when you are rewarded, in your cups 
 You boast this privacy. 
 
 Par. That were, mightiest empress, 
 To play with lightning. 
 
 Dom. You conceive it right. 
 The means to kill or save is not alone 
 In Caesar circumscribed ; for, if incensed, 
 We have our thunder too, that strikes as 
 
 deadly. 
 Par. 'Twould ill become the lowness of 
 
 my fortune, 
 
 To question what you can do, but with all 
 Humility to attend what is your will, 
 And then to serve it. 
 Dom. And would not a secret, 
 
214 
 
 THE ROMAN ACTOR. 
 
 Suppose we should commit it to your trust, 
 Scald you to keep it ? 
 
 Par. Though it raged within me 
 Till I turn'd cinders, it should ne'er have vent. 
 To be an age a dying, and with torture. 
 Only to be thought worthy of your counsel, 
 Or actuate what you command to me, 
 A wretched obscure thing, not worth your 
 
 knowledge, 
 Were a perpetual happiness. 
 
 Dom. We could wish 
 That we could credit thee, and cannot find 
 In reason, but that thou, whom oft I have 
 
 seen 
 
 To personate a gentleman, noble, wise, 
 Faithful, and gainsome, and what virtues else 
 The poet pleases to adorn you with ; 
 But that (as vessels still partake the odour 
 Of the sweet precious liquors they contain'd) 
 Thou must be really, in some degree, 
 The thing thou dost present. Nay, do not 
 
 tremble ; 
 
 We seriously believe it, and presume 
 Our Paris is the volume in which all 
 Those excellent gifts the stage hath seen 
 
 him graced with, 
 Are curiously bound up. 
 
 Par. The argument 
 
 Is the same, great Augusta, that I, acting 
 A fool, a coward, a traitor, or cold cynic, 
 Or any other weak and vicious person, 
 Of force I must be such. O, gracious madam, 
 How glorious soever, or deform 'd, 
 I do appear in the scene, my part being 
 
 ended, 
 
 And all my borrow'd ornaments put off, 
 I am no more, nor less, than what I was 
 Before I enter 'd. 
 
 Dom. Come, you would put on 
 A wilful ignorance, and not understand 
 What 'tis we point at. Must we in plain 
 
 language, 
 
 Against the decent modesty of our sex, 
 Say that we love thee, love thee to enjoy thee ; 
 Or that in our desires thou art preferr'd, 
 And Caesar but thy second ? Thou in justice, 
 If from the height of majesty we can 
 Look down upon thy lowness, and embrace it, 
 Art bound with fervor to look up to me. 
 Par. O, madam ! hear me with a patient 
 
 ear, 
 
 And be but pleased to understand the reasons 
 That do deter me from a happiness 
 Kings would be rivals for. Can I, that owe 
 My life, and all that's mine, to Caesar's 
 
 bounties, 
 Beyond my hopes or merits, shower'd upon 
 
 me, 
 Make payment for them with ingratitude. 
 
 Falsehood, and treason ! Though you have 
 
 a shape 
 
 Might tempt Hippolitus, and larger power 
 To help or hurt than wanton Phaedra had, 
 Let loyalty and duty plead my pardon, 
 Though I refuse to satisfy. 
 
 Dom. You are coy, 
 Expecting I should court you. Let mean 
 
 ladies 
 
 Use prayers and entreaties to their creatures 
 To rise up instruments to serve their 
 
 pleasures ; 
 
 But for Augusta so to lose herself, 
 That holds command o'er Caesar and the 
 
 world, 
 Were poverty of spirit. Thou must thou 
 
 shalt : 
 
 The violence of my passion knows no mean, 
 And in my punishments, and my rewards, 
 I'll use no moderation. Take this only, 
 As a caution from me ; threadbare chastity 
 Is poor in the advancement of her servants, 
 But wantonness magnificent ; and 'tis fre- 
 quent 
 
 To have the salary of vice weigh down 
 The pay of virtue. So, without more trifling, 
 Thy sudden answer. 
 
 Par. In what a strait am I brought in ! 
 Alas ! I know that the denial's death ; 
 Nor can my grant, disco ver'd, threaten 
 
 more. 
 
 Yet, to die innocent, and have the glory 
 For all posterity to report, that I 
 Refused an empress, to preserve my faith 
 To my great master ; in true judgment, must 
 Show fairer, than to buy a guilty life 
 With wealth and honour. 'Tis the base I 
 
 build on : 
 I dare not, must not, will not. 
 
 Dom. How ! contemn'd? 
 Since hopes, nor fears, in the extremes, pre- 
 vail not, 
 I must use a mean. \_Aside.} Think who 
 
 'tis sues to thee. 
 
 Deny not that yet, which a brother may 
 Grant to a sister : as a testimony 
 
 Enter Caesar, Aretinus, Julia, Domitilla, 
 Caenis, and a Guard behind. 
 
 I am not scorn'd, kiss me ; kiss me again : 
 Kiss closer. Thou art now my Trojan Paris, 
 And I thy Helen. 
 
 Par. Since it is your will. 
 
 Cces. And I am Menelaus : but I shall be 
 Something I know not yet. 
 
 Dom. Why lose we time 
 And opportunity? These are but salads 
 To sharpen appetite : let us to the feast, 
 
 [Courting Paris wantonly. 
 
THE ROMAN ACTOR. 
 
 215 
 
 Where I shall wish that thou wert Jupiter, 
 And I Alcmena ; and that I had power 
 To lengthen out one short night into three, 
 And so beget a Hercules. 
 
 Cess. [Comes forward '.] While Amphitrio 
 Stands by, and draws the curtains. 
 
 Par. Oh ! [Falls on his face. 
 
 Dom. Betray 'd ! 
 
 Cess. No ; taken in a net of Vulcan's 
 
 filing, 
 
 Where, in myself, the theatre of the gods 
 Are sad spectators, not one of them daring 
 To witness, with a smile, he does desire 
 To be so shamed for all the pleasure that 
 You've sold your being for ! What shall I 
 
 name thee ? 
 
 Ingrateful, treacherous, insatiate, all 
 Invectives which, in bitterness of spirit, 
 Wrong'd men have breathed out against 
 
 wicked women, 
 -Cannot express thee ! Have I raised thee 
 
 from 
 
 Thy low condition to the height of greatness, 
 Command, and majesty, in one base act 
 To render me, that was, before I hugg'd 
 
 thee, 
 
 An adder, in my bosom, more than man, 
 A thing beneath a beast ! Did I force these 
 Of mine own blood, as handmaids to kneel to 
 Thy pomp and pride, having myself no 
 
 thought 
 
 But how with benefits to bind thee mine ; 
 And am I thus rewarded ! Not a knee, 
 Nor tear, nor sign of sorrow for thy fault ? 
 Break, stubborn silence : what canst thou 
 
 allege 
 To stay my vengeance ? 
 
 Dom. This. Thy lust compell'd me 
 To be a strumpet, and mine hath return'd it 
 In my intent and will, though not in act, 
 To cuckold thee. 
 
 Cess. O, impudence ! take her hence, 
 And let her make her entrance into hell, 
 By leaving life with all the tortures that 
 Flesh can be sensible of. Yet stay. What 
 
 power 
 Her beauty still holds o'er my soul, that 
 
 wrongs 
 
 Of this unpardonable nature cannot teach me 
 To right myself, and hate her ! Kill her. 
 
 Hold! 
 
 O that my dotage should increase from that 
 Which should breed detestation. By 
 
 Minerva, 
 
 If I look on her longer, I shall melt, 
 And sue to her, my injuries forgot, 
 Again to be received into her favour ; 
 Could honour yield to it ! Carry her to her 
 
 chamber ; 
 
 Be that her prison, till in cooler blood 
 I shall determine of her. 
 
 [Exit Guard with Domitia. 
 Aret. Now step I in, 
 
 While he's in this calm mood, for my re- 
 ward. 
 
 Sir, if my service hath deserved 
 
 Cess. Yes, yes : 
 And I'll reward thee. Thou hast robb'd 
 
 me of 
 All rest and peace, and been the principal 
 
 means 
 
 To make me know that, of which if again 
 I could be ignorant of, I would purchase it 
 
 Re-enter Guard. 
 
 With the loss of empire : Strangle him ; 
 
 take these hence too, 
 And lodge them in the dungeon. Could 
 
 your reason, 
 
 Dull wretches, flatter you with hope to think 
 That this discovery, that hath shower'd 
 
 upon me 
 
 Perpetual vexation, should not fall 
 Heavy on you ? Away with them ! stop 
 
 their mouths ; 
 I will hear no reply. 
 
 {Exit Guard -with Aretinus, Julia, 
 Caenis, and Domitilla. 
 
 O, Paris, Paris ! 
 
 How shall I argue with thee ? how begin 
 To make thee understand, before I kill thee, 
 With What grief and unwillingness 'tis forced 
 
 from me? 
 
 Yet, in respect I have favour'd thee, I'll hear 
 What thou canst speak to qualify or excuse 
 Thy readiness to serve this woman's lust ; 
 And wish thou couldst give me such satis- 
 faction, 
 
 As I might bury the remembrance of it. 
 Look up : we stand attentive. 
 
 Par. O, dread Caesar ! 
 To hope for life, or plead in the defence 
 Of my ingratitude, were again to wrong you. 
 I know I have deserved death ; and my 
 
 suit is, 
 That you would hasten it : yet, that your 
 
 highness, 
 
 When I am dead, (as sure I will not live,) 
 May pardon me, I'll only. urge my frailty, 
 Her will, and the temptation of that beauty 
 Which you could not resist. How could 
 
 poor I, then, 
 Fly that which follow'd me, and Caesar sued 
 
 for? 
 This is all. And now your sentence. 
 
 Cess. Which I know not 
 How to pronounce. O that thy fault had been 
 But such as I might pardon ! if thou hadst 
 
216 
 
 THE ROMAN ACTOR. 
 
 In wantonness, like Nero, fired proud Rome, 
 
 Betray 'd an army, butcher'd the whole senate, 
 
 Committed sacrilege, or any crime 
 
 The justice of our Roman laws calls death, 
 
 I had prevented any intercession, 
 
 And freely sign'd thy pardon. 
 
 Par. But for this, 
 
 Alas ! you cannot, nay, you must not, sir ; 
 Nor let it to posterity be recorded, 
 That Caesar, unrevenged, surfer 'd a wrong, 
 Which, if a private man should sit down 
 
 with it, 
 Cowards would baffle him. 
 
 Cess. With such true feeling 
 Thou arguest against thyself, that it 
 Works more upon me, than if my Minerva, 
 The grand protectress of my life and empire, 
 On forfeit of her favour, cried aloud, 
 Caesar, show mercy ! and, I know not how, 
 I am inclined to it. Rise. I'll promise 
 
 nothing ; 
 
 Yet clear thy cloudy fears, and cherish hopes. 
 What we must do, we shall do : we remember 
 A tragedy we oft have seen with pleasure, 
 Call'd the False Servant. 
 
 Par. Such a one we have, sir. 
 
 Cess. In which a great lord takes to his 
 
 protection 
 
 A man forlorn, giving him ample power 
 To order and dispose of his estate 
 In's absence, he pretending then a journey : 
 But yet with this restraint that, on no terms, 
 (This lord suspecting his wife's constancy, 
 She having play 'd false to a former husband, ) 
 The servant, though solicited, should con- 
 sent, 
 
 Though she commanded him to quench her 
 flames. 
 
 Par. That was, indeed, the argument. 
 
 Cess. And what 
 Didst thou play in it ! 
 
 Par. The False Servant, sir. 
 
 Cces. Thou didst, indeed. Do the players 
 wait without ? 
 
 Par. They do, sir, and prepared to act 
 
 the story 
 Your majesty mention'd. 
 
 Cces. Call them in. Who presents 
 The injured lord ! 
 
 Enter ^Esopus, Latinus, and a Lady. 
 
 ALsop. 'Tis my part, sir. 
 CCES. Thou didst not 
 
 Do it to the life ; we can perform it better. 
 Off with my robe and wreath : since Nero 
 
 scorn'd not 
 The public theatre, we in private may 
 Disport ourselves. This cloak and hat, 
 without 
 
 Wearing a beard, or other property, 
 Will fit the person. 
 
 sEsop. Only, sir, a foil, 
 The point and edge rebated, when you act r 
 To do the murder. If you please to use this, 
 And lay aside your own sword. 
 
 Cces. By no means. 
 
 In jest nor earnest this parts never from me, 
 We'll have but one short scene That, where 
 
 the lady 
 
 In an imperious way commands the servant 
 To be unthankful to his patron : when 
 My cue's to enter, prompt me : Nay, begin, 
 And do it sprightly : though but a new actor, 
 When I come to execution, you shall find 
 No cause to laugh at me. 
 
 Lat. In the name of wonder, 
 WTiat's Caesar's purpose ! 
 
 sEsop. There is no contending. 
 
 Cces. Why, when? 
 
 Par. I am arm'd : 
 And, stood grim Death now in my view, 
 
 and his 
 
 Inevitable dart aim'd at my breast, 
 His cold embraces should not bring an ague 
 To any of my faculties, till his pleasures 
 Were served and satisfied ; which done, 
 
 Nestor's years 
 To me would be unwelcome. \Aside. 
 
 Lady. Must -we entreat, 
 That were born to comma?id? or court a 
 
 sen'ant, 
 
 That owes his food and clothing to our bounty, 
 For that, which, thou ambitiously shouldst 
 
 kneel for? 
 
 Urge not in thy excuse, the favours of 
 Thy absent lord, or that thou stand' st engaged 
 For thy life to his charity; nor thy fears 
 Of what may follow, it being in my power 
 To mould him any way. 
 
 Par. As you may me, 
 In what his reputation is not wounded, 
 Nor I, his creature, in my thankfulness suffer. 
 I know you 're young and 'fair; bevirtuous too, 
 And loyal to his bed, that hath advanced you 
 To the height of happiness. 
 
 Lady. Can my love-sick heart 
 Be cured with counsel? or durst reason ever 
 Offer to put in an exploded plea 
 In the court of Venus? My desires admit not 
 The least delay ; and therefore instantly 
 Give me to under stand what I must trust to: 
 For, if I am refused, and not enjoy 
 Those ravishing pleasures from thee, I run 
 
 mad/or, 
 
 Til swear unto my lord, at his return, 
 (Making what I deliver good with tears,) 
 That brutishly thou wouldst have forced 
 from me 
 
THE ROMAN ACTOR. 
 
 2x7 
 
 What I make suit for. And then but imagine 
 What 'tis to die, with these -words, slave and 
 
 traitor, 
 
 With burning corsives writ upon thy fore- 
 head, 
 And live prepared for t. 
 
 Par. This he will believe 
 Upon her information, 'tis apparent; 
 And then I'm nothing : and of two extremes, 
 Wisdom says, choose the less. [Aside.] 
 
 Rather than fall 
 
 Under your indignation, I will yield: 
 This kiss, and this, confirms it. 
 sEsop. Now, sir, now. 
 Cces. I must take them at it? 
 sEsop. Yes, sir ; be but perfect. 
 Cces. O villain ! thankless -villain /I 
 
 should talk now ; 
 
 But I've forgot my part. But I can do : 
 Thus, thus, and thus ! [Stabs Paris. 
 
 Par. Oh ! I am slain in earnest. 
 Cces. 'Tis true; and 'twas my purpose, 
 
 my good Paris : 
 
 And yet, before life leave thee, let the honour 
 I've done thee in thy death bring comfort to 
 
 thee. 
 
 If it had been within the power of Caesar, 
 His dignitypreserved, he had pardon'd thee : 
 But cruelty of honour did deny it. 
 Yet, to confirm I loved thee, 'twas my study, 
 To make thy end more glorious, to dis- 
 tinguish 
 
 My Paris from all others ; and in that 
 Have shewn my pity. Nor would I let 
 
 thee fall 
 
 By a centurion's sword, or have thy limbs 
 Rent piecemeal by the hangman's hook, 
 
 however 
 Thy crime deserved it : but, as thou didst 
 
 live 
 Rome's bravest actor, 'twas my plot that 
 
 thou 
 
 Shouldst die in action, and to crown it, die, 
 With an applause enduring to all times, 
 By our imperial hand. His soul is freed 
 From the prison of his flesh ; let it mount 
 
 upward ! 
 
 And for this trunk, when that the funeral pile 
 Hath made it ashes, we'll see it enclosed 
 In a golden urn ; poets adorn his hearse 
 With their most ravishing sorrows, and the 
 
 stage 
 
 For ever mourn him, and all such as were 
 His glad spectators, weep his sudden death, 
 The cause forgotten in his epitaph. 
 
 [Sad music ; the Players bear off Paris 
 body, Caesar and the rest following. 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 SCENE I. A Room in the Palace, with 
 
 an image of Minerva. 
 Enter Parthenius, Stephanos, and Guard. 
 Parth. Keep a strong guard upon him, . 
 
 and admit not 
 
 Access to any, to exchange a word 
 Or syllable with him, till the emperor pleases 
 To call him to his presence. [Exit Guard.] 
 
 The relation 
 That you have made me, Stephanos, of 
 
 these late 
 
 Strange passions in Caesar, much amaze me. 
 The informer Aretinus put to death 
 For yielding him a true discovery 
 Of the empress' wantonness ; poor Paris 
 
 kill'd first, 
 And now lamented ; and the princesses 
 Confined to several islands ; yet Augusta, 
 The machine on which all this mischief 
 
 moved, 
 Received again to grace ! 
 
 Steph. Nay, courted to it : 
 Such is the impotence of his affection ! 
 Yet, to conceal his weakness, he gives out 
 The people made suit for her, whom they 
 
 hate more 
 
 Than civil war or famine. But take heed, 
 My lord, that, nor in your consent nor wishes, 
 You lend or furtherance or favour to 
 The plot contrived against her : should she 
 
 prove it, 
 
 Nay, doubt it only, you are a lost man, 
 Her power o'er doating Caesar being now 
 Greater than ever. 
 Parth. Tis a truth I shake at ; 
 
 And, when there's opportunity 
 
 Steph. Say but, Do, 
 I am yours, and sure. 
 
 Parth. I'll stand one trial more, 
 And then you shall hear from me. 
 
 Steph. Now observe 
 
 The fondness of this tyrant, and her pride. 
 [They stand aside. 
 
 Enter Caesar and Domitia. 
 Cces. Nay, all's forgotten. 
 Dom. It may be, on your part. 
 Cces. Forgiven too, Domitia : 'tis a 
 
 favour 
 
 That you should welcome with more cheer- 
 ful looks. 
 Can Caesar pardon what you durst not hope 
 
 for, 
 
 That did the injury, and yet must sue 
 To her, whose guilt is wash'd off by his 
 
 mercy, 
 Only to entertain it ? 
 
2l8 
 
 THE ROMAN ACTOR. 
 
 Dom. I ask'd none ; 
 
 And I should be more wretched to receive 
 Remission for what I hold no crime, 
 But by a bare acknowledgment, than if, 
 By slighting and contemning it, as now, 
 I dared thy utmost fury. Though thy 
 
 flatterers 
 Persuade thee, that thy murders, lusts, and 
 
 rapes, 
 
 Are virtues in thee ; and what pleases Caesar, 
 Though never so unjust, is right and lawful ; 
 Or work in thee a false belief that thou 
 Art more than mortal ; yet I to thy teeth, 
 When circled with thy guards, thy rods, thy 
 
 axes, 
 
 And all the ensigns of thy boasted power, 
 Will say, Domitian, nay, add to it Caesar, 
 Is a weak, feeble man, a bondman to 
 His violent passions, and in that my slave ; 
 Nay, more my slave than my affections 
 
 made me 
 To my loved Paris. 
 
 Ctss. Can I live and hear this ? 
 Or hear, and not revenge it ? Come, you 
 
 know 
 The strength that you hold on me, do not 
 
 use it 
 With too much cruelty ; for though 'tis 
 
 granted 
 
 That Lydian Omphale had less command 
 O'er Hercules, than you usurp o'er me, 
 Reason may teach me to shake off the yoke 
 Of my fond dotage. 
 
 Dom. Never ; do not hope it : 
 It cannot be. Thou being my beauty's 
 
 captive, 
 
 And not to be redeem'd, my empire's larger 
 Than thine, Domitian, which I'll exercise 
 With rigour on thee, for my Paris' death. 
 And, when I've forced those eyes, now red 
 
 with fury, 
 
 To drop down tears, in vain spent to ap- 
 pease me, 
 
 I know thy fervour such to my embraces, 
 Which shall be, though still kneel'd for, 
 
 still denied thee, 
 That thou with languishment shalt wish my 
 
 actor 
 Did live again, so thou mightst be his 
 
 second 
 To feed upon those delicates, when he's 
 
 sated. 
 
 Cess. O my Minerva. 
 Dom. There she is, [Points to the statue.] 
 
 invoke her : 
 
 She cannot arm thee with ability 
 To draw thy sword on me, my power being 
 
 greater : 
 Or only say to thy centurions, 
 
 Darenoneof youdowhat I shake to think on, 
 And, in this woman's death, remove the 
 
 Furies 
 That every hour afflict me? Lamia's 
 
 wrongs, 
 When thy lust forced me from him, are, in 
 
 me, 
 
 At the height revenged ; nor would I out- 
 live Paris, 
 
 But that thy love, increasing with my hate, 
 May add unto thy torments ; so, with all 
 Contempt I can, I leave thee. [Exit. 
 
 Cces. I am lost ; 
 
 Nor am I Caesar. When I first betray 'd 
 The freedom of my faculties and will 
 To this imperious siren, I laid down 
 The empire of the world, and of myself, 
 At her proud feet. Sleep all my ireful 
 
 powers ? 
 
 Or is the magic of my dotage such, 
 That I must still make suit to hear those 
 
 charms 
 That do increase my thraldom ! Wake, my 
 
 anger ! 
 For shame, break through this lethargy, and 
 
 appear 
 
 With usual terror, and enable me, 
 Since I wear not a sword to pierce her heart, 
 Nor have a tongue to say this, Let her die, 
 Though 'tis done with a fever-shaken hand, 
 [Pulls out a table-book. 
 To sign her death. Assist me, great 
 
 Minerva, 
 And vindicate thy votary ! [writes] So ; she's 
 
 now 
 
 Among the list of those I have proscribed, 
 And are, to free me of my doubts and fears, 
 To die to-morrow. 
 
 Steph. That same fatal book 
 Was never drawn yet, but some men of rank 
 Were mark'd out for destruction. [Exit. 
 
 Parth. I begin 
 To doubt myself. 
 
 Cats. Who waits there ? 
 Parth. [coming forward.] Caesar. 
 Cces. So! 
 These, that command arm'd troops, quake 
 
 at my frowns, 
 And yet a woman slights them. Where's the 
 
 wizard 
 We charged you to fetch in ? 
 
 Parth. Ready to suffer 
 What death you please to appoint him. 
 
 Cces. Bring him in. 
 We'll question him ourself. 
 
 Enter Tribunes, and Guard with 
 Ascletario. 
 
 Now, you, that hold 
 
THE ROMAN ACTOR. 
 
 219 
 
 Intelligence with the stars, and dare prefix 
 The day and hour in which we are to part 
 With life and empire, punctually foretelling 
 The means and manner of our violent end ; 
 As you would purchase credit to your art, 
 Resolve me, since you are assured of us, 
 What fate attends yourself? 
 
 Ascle. I have had long since 
 A certain knowledge, and as sure as thou 
 Shalt die to-morrow, being the fourteenth of 
 The kalends of October, the hour five ; 
 Spite of prevention, this carcass shall be 
 Torn and devoured by dogs ; and let that 
 
 stand 
 For a firm prediction. 
 
 Cces. May our body, wretch, 
 Find never nobler sepulchre, if this 
 Fall ever on thee ! Are we the great disposer 
 Of life and death, yet cannot mock the stars 
 In such a trifle ? Hence with the impostor ; 
 And having cut his throat, erect a pile, 
 Guarded with soldiers, till his cursed trunk 
 Be turn'd to ashes : upon forfeit of 
 Your life, and theirs, perform it. 
 
 Ascle. Tis in vain ; 
 
 When what I have foretold is made apparent, 
 Tremble to think what follows. 
 
 Cces. Drag him hence, 
 [ The Tribunes and Guard bear ^Ascletario. 
 And do as I command you. I was never 
 Fuller of confidence ; for, having got 
 The victory of my passions, in my freedom 
 From proud Domitia, (who shall cease to live, 
 Since she disdains to love, ) I rest unmoved : 
 And, in defiance of prodigious meteors, 
 Chaldeans' vain predictions, jealous fears 
 Of my near friends andfreedmen, certain hate 
 Of kindred and alliance, or all terrors 
 The soldiers' doubted faith, or people's rage 
 Can bring to shake my constancy, I am 
 
 arm'd. 
 That scrupulous thing styled conscience is 
 
 sear'd up, 
 
 And I insensible of all my actions, 
 For which, by moral and religious fools, 
 I stand condemn'd, as they had never been. 
 And, since I have subdued triumphant love, 
 I will not deify pale captive fear, 
 Nor in a thought receive it : for, till thou, 
 Wisest Minerva, that from my first youth 
 Hast been my sole protectress, dost forsake 
 
 me, 
 
 Not Junius Rusticus' threaten 'd apparition, 
 Nor what this soothsayer but even now fore- 
 told, 
 
 Being things impossible to human reason, 
 Shall in a dream disturb me. Bring my 
 
 couch, there : 
 A sudden but a secure drowsiness 
 
 Invites me to repose myself. \A couch 
 
 brought in.~\ Let music, 
 With some choice ditty, second it : [Exit 
 
 Parthenius.] The mean time, 
 Rest there, dear book, which open'd, when 
 I wake, 
 
 [Lays the book under his pillow. 
 Shall make some sleep for ever. 
 
 [Music and a song. Caesar sleeps. 
 
 Re-enter Parthenius and Domitia. 
 Dom. Write my name 
 In his bloody scroll, Parthenius ! the fear's 
 
 idle: 
 He durst not, could not. 
 
 Parth. I can assure nothing ; 
 But I observed, when you departed from him, 
 After some little passion, but much fury, 
 He drew it out : whose death he sign'd, I 
 
 know not ; 
 
 But in his looks appear 'd a resolution 
 Ofwhatbeforehestagger'dat. What hehath 
 Determined of is uncertain, but too soon 
 Will fall on you, or me, or both, or any, 
 His pleasure known to the tribunes and cen- 
 
 turions, 
 
 Who never use to enquire his will, but serve it. 
 Now, if, out of the confidence of your power, 
 The bloody catalogue being still about him, 
 As he sleeps you dare peruse it, or remove it, 
 You may instruct yourself, or what to suffer, 
 Or how to cross it. 
 
 Dom. I would not be caught 
 With too much confidence. By your leave, 
 
 sir. Ha ! 
 
 No motion ! you lie uneasy, sir, 
 Let me mend your pillow. 
 
 [ Takes away the book. 
 Parth. Have you it ? 
 Dom. 'Tis here. 
 Cas. Oh ! 
 Parth. You have waked him : softly, 
 
 gracious madam, 
 
 While we are unknown ; and then consult 
 at leisure. [Exeunt. 
 
 Dreadful m usic. The Apparitions ^J 
 Rusticus and Palphurius Sura rise, -with 
 bloody swords in their hands ; they wave 
 them over the head of Caesar, who seems 
 troubled in his sleep, and as if praying to 
 the image of Minerva, which they scorn- 
 fully seize, and then disappear with it. 
 
 Cces. [starling.'] Defend me, goddess, or 
 
 this horrid dream 
 
 Will force me to distraction ! whither have 
 These furies borne thee ? Let me rise and 
 
 follow. 
 I am bathed o'erwith the cold sweat of death, 
 
THE ROMAN ACTOR. 
 
 And am deprived of organs to pursue 
 These sacrilegious spirits. Am I at once 
 Robb'd of my hopes and being ? No, I live 
 {.Rises distractedly. 
 
 Yes, live, and have discourse, to know myself 
 Of gods and men forsaken. What accuser 
 Within me ciies aloud, I have deserved it, 
 In being just to neither? Who dares speak 
 
 this? 
 
 Am I not Caesar? How ! again repeat it? 
 Presumptuous traitor, thou shalt die ! 
 
 What traitor? 
 
 He that hath been a traitor to himself, 
 And stands convicted here. Yet who can sit 
 A competent judge o'er Caesar? Caesar. Yes, 
 Caesar by Caesar's sentenced, and mustsufter; 
 Minerva cannot save him. Ha ! where is she? 
 Where is my goddess ? vanish 'd ! I am lost 
 
 then. 
 
 No ; 'twas no dream, but a most real truth, 
 That Junius Rusticus and Palphurius Sura, 
 Although their ashes were cast in the sea, 
 Were by their innocence made up again, 
 And in corporeal forms but now appear'd, 
 Waving their bloody swords above my head, 
 As at their deaths they threaten 'd. And 
 
 methought, 
 
 Minerva, ravish'd hence, whisper'd that she 
 Was, for my blasphemies, disarm'd by Jove, 
 And could no more protect me. Yes, 'twas so, 
 [Thunder and lightning. 
 His thunder does confirm it, against which, 
 Howe'er it spare the laurel, this proud wreath 
 
 Enter three Tribunes. 
 
 Is no assurance. Ha ! come you resolved 
 To be my executioners ? 
 
 1 Trib. Allegiance 
 
 And faith forbid that we should lift an arm 
 Against your sacred head. 
 
 2 Trib. We rather sue 
 For mercy. 
 
 3 Trib. And acknowledge that in justice 
 Our lives are forfeited for not performing 
 What Caesar charged us. 
 
 I Trib. Nor did we transgress it 
 In our want of will or care ; for, being but 
 
 men, 
 
 It could not be in us to make resistance, 
 The gods fighting against us. 
 
 Cces. Speak, in what 
 
 Did they express their anger? we will hear it, 
 But dare not say, undaunted. 
 
 i Trib. In brief thus, sir : 
 The sentence given by your imperial tongue, 
 For the astrologer Ascletario's death, 
 With speed was put in execution. 
 
 Cess. Well. 
 
 i Trib. For, his throat cut, his legs bound, 
 
 and his arms 
 
 Pinion 'd behind his back, thebreathless trunk 
 Was with all scorn dragg'd to the field of 
 
 Mars, 
 
 And there, a pile being raised of old dry wood,. 
 Smear 'd o'er with oil and brimstone, or what 
 
 else 
 
 Could help to feed or to increase the fire, 
 The carcass was thrown on it ; but no sooner 
 The stuff, that was most apt, began to flame. 
 But suddenly, to the amazement of 
 The fearless soldier, a sudden flash 
 Of lightning, breaking through the scatter'd 
 
 clouds, 
 
 With such a horrid violence forced itspassage. 
 And, as disdaining all heat but itself, 
 In a moment quench 'd the artificial fire : 
 And before we could kindle it again, 
 A clap of thunder ibllow'd with such noise. 
 As if then Jove, incensed against mankind, 
 Had in his secret purposes determined 
 An universal ruin to the world. 
 This horror past, not at Deucalion's flood 
 Such a stormy shower of rain (and yet that 
 
 word is 
 
 Too narrow to express it) was e'er seen : 
 Imagine rather, sir, that with less fury 
 The waves rush down the cataracts of Nile ; 
 Or that the sea, spouted into the air 
 By the angry Ore, endangering tall ships 
 
 But sailing near it, so falls down again. 
 
 Yet here the wonder ends not, but begins : 
 For, as in vain we labour'd to consume 
 The wizard's body, all the dogs of Rome, 
 Howling and yelling like to famish 'd wolves, 
 Brake in upon us ; and though thousands were 
 Kill'd in th' attempt, some did ascend the pile, 
 And with their eager fangs seized on the 
 
 carcass. 
 
 CCES. But have they torn it? 
 i Trib. Torn it, and devour'd it. 
 Cces. I then am a dead man, since all 
 
 predictions 
 
 Assure me I am lost. O, my loved soldiers, 
 Your emperor must leave you ! yet, however 
 I cannot grant myself a short reprieve, 
 I freely pardon you. The fatal hour 
 Steals fast upon me : I must die this morning 
 By five, my soldiers ; that's the latest hour 
 You e'er must see me living. 
 
 i Trib. Jove avert it ! 
 In our swords lies your fate, and we will 
 
 guard it. 
 
 Cess. O no, it cannot be ; it is decreed 
 Above, and by no strength here to be alter'd. 
 Let proud mortality but look on Caesar, 
 Compass'd of late with armies, in his eyes 
 Carrying both life and death, and in his arms 
 
THE 
 
 Fathoming the earth ; that would be styled 
 
 a God, 
 
 And is, for that presumption, cast beneath 
 The low condition of a common man, 
 Sinking with mine own weight. 
 
 1 Trib. Do not forsake 
 Yourself, we'll never leave you. 
 
 2 Trib. We'll draw up 
 
 More cohorts of your guard, if you doubt 
 
 treason. 
 CCBS. They cannot save me. The offended 
 
 gods, 
 
 That now sit judges on me, from their envy 
 Of my power and greatness here, conspire 
 
 against me. 
 
 i Trib. Endeavour to appease them. 
 Cces. 'Twill be fruitless : 
 I am past hope of remission. Yet, could I 
 Decline this dreadful hour of five, these 
 
 terrors, 
 
 That drive me to despair, would soon fly 
 from me : 
 
 And could you but till then assure me 
 
 i Trib. Yes, sir ; 
 
 Orwe'll fall with you, and make Rome the urn 
 Iri which we'll mix our ashes. 
 
 Cess. 'Tis said nobly : 
 
 I am something comforted : howe'er, to die 
 Is the full period of calamity. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE II. Another Room in the Palace. 
 
 Enter Parthenius, Domitia, Julia, Casnis, 
 ' Domitilla, Stephanos, Sejeius, and En- 
 tellus. 
 
 Parth. You see we are all condemn'd ; 
 
 there's no evasion ; 
 We must do, or suffer. 
 
 Steph. But it must be sudden ; 
 The least delay is mortal. 
 
 Dom. Would I were 
 A man, to give it action ! 
 
 Domitil. Could I make my approaches, 
 
 though my stature 
 
 Does promise little, I have a spirit as daring 
 As hers that can reach higher. 
 
 Steph. I will take 
 That burthen from you, madam. All the 
 
 art is, 
 To draw him from the tribunes that attend 
 
 him ; 
 For, could you bring him but within my 
 
 sword's reach, 
 The world should owe her freedom from a 
 
 tyrant 
 To Stephanos. 
 
 Sej. You shall not share alone 
 The glory of a deed that will endure 
 To all posterity. 
 
 Ent. I will put in 
 For a part, myself. 
 
 Parth. Be resolv'd, and stand close. 
 I have conceived a way, and with the hazard 
 Of my life I'll practise it, to fetch him hither. 
 But then no trifling. 
 
 Steph. We'll dispatch him, fear not : 
 A dead dog never bites. 
 
 Parth. Thus then at all. 
 
 [Exit; the rest conceal themselves. 
 
 Enter Caesar and the Tribunes. 
 
 Cess. How slow-paced are these minutes ! 
 
 in extremes, 
 
 How miserable is the least delay ! 
 Could I imp feathers to the wings of time, 
 Or with as little ease command the sun 
 To scourge his coursers up heaven's eastern 
 
 hill, 
 
 Making the hour to tremble at, past re- 
 calling, 
 
 As I can move this dial's tongue to six ; 
 My veins and arteries, emptied with fear, 
 Would fill and swell again. How do I look ? 
 Do you yet see Death about me ? 
 
 i Trib. Think not of him ; 
 There is no danger : all these prodigies 
 That do affright you, rise from natural causes ; 
 And though you do ascribe them to yourself, 
 Had you ne'er been, had happened. 
 
 CCBS. 'Tis well said, 
 
 Exceeding well, brave soldier. Can it be, 
 That I, that feel myself in health and 
 
 strength, 
 
 Should still believe I am so near my end, 
 And have my guards about me ? perish all 
 Predictions ! I grow constant they are false, 
 And built upon uncertainties. 
 
 i Trib. This is right ; 
 Now Caesar's heard like Caesar. 
 
 Cess. We will to 
 The camp, and having there confirm'd the 
 
 soldier 
 
 With a large donative, and increase of pay, 
 Some shall 1 say no more. 
 
 Re-enter Parthenius. 
 
 Parth. All happiness, 
 Security, long life, attend upon 
 The monarch of the world ! 
 
 Cces. Thy looks are cheerful. 
 
 Parth. And my relation full of joy and 
 
 wonder. 
 
 Why is the care of your imperial body, 
 My lord, neglected, the fear'd hour being 
 
 past, 
 In which your life was threaten'd ? 
 
 CCES. Is't past five ? 
 
THE ROMAN ACTOR. 
 
 Parth. Past six, upon my knowledge ; 
 
 and, in justice, 
 Your clock-master should die, that hath de- 
 
 ferr'd 
 Your peace so long. There is a post new 
 
 lighted, 
 That brings assured intelligence, that your 
 
 legions 
 
 In Syria have won a glorious day, 
 And much enlarged your empire. I have 
 
 kept him 
 Conceal'd, that you might first partake the 
 
 pleasure 
 
 In private, and the senate from yourself 
 Be taught to understand how much they owe 
 To you and to your fortune. 
 
 Cess. Hence, pale fear, then ! 
 Lead me, Parthenius. 
 
 1 Trib. Shall we wait you ? 
 Cess. No. 
 
 After losses guards are useful. Know your 
 distance. 
 
 [Exeunt Caesar and Parthenius. 
 
 2 Trib. How strangely hopes delude men ! 
 as I live, 
 
 The hour is not yet come. 
 
 i Trib. Howe'er, we are 
 To pay our duties, and observe the sequel. 
 '[Exeunt Tribunes. Domitia and the 
 
 rest come forward. 
 Dom. I hear him coming. Be constant. 
 
 Re-enter Caesar and Parthenius. 
 
 Cess. Where, Parthenius, 
 Is this glad messenger? 
 
 Steph. Make the door fast. Here ; 
 A messenger of horror. 
 
 Cess. How ! betray 'd ? 
 
 Dom. No ; taken, tyrant. 
 
 Cess. My Domitia 
 In the conspiracy ! 
 
 Parth. Behold this book. 
 
 Cess. Nay, then I am lost. Yet, though 
 
 I am unarm'd, 
 I'll not fall poorly. [Overthrows Stephanos. 
 
 Steph. Help me. 
 
 Ent. Thus, and thus ! ) They stab 
 
 Sej. Are you so long a falling? j him. 
 
 Cess. 'Tis done basely. [Falls, and dr'es. 
 
 Parth. This for my father's death. 
 
 Dom. This for my Paris. 
 
 Jul. This for thy incest. 
 
 Domitil. This for thy abuse 
 Of Domitilla. [ They severally stab him . 
 
 Tribunes. \within.\ Force the doors ! 
 
 Enter Tribunes. 
 
 OMars! 
 
 What have you done ? 
 Parth. WhatRomeshallgiveusthanksfor. 
 Steph. Dispatch'd a monster, 
 i Trib. Yet he was our prince, 
 However wicked ; and, in you, this mur- 
 der, 
 
 Which whosoe'er succeeds him will revenge : 
 Nor will we, that serv'd under his command,- 
 Consent that such a monster as thyself, 
 (For in thy wickedness Augusta's title 
 Hath quite forsook thee,) thou, that wert 
 
 the ground 
 Of all these mischiefs, shall go hence un- 
 
 punish'd. 
 
 Lay hands on her, and drag her to her sen- 
 tence. 
 
 We will refer the hearing to the senate, 
 Who may at their best leisure censure you. 
 Take up his body : he in death hath paid 
 For all his cruelties. Here's the difference ; 
 Good kings are mourn 'd for after life ; but ill, 
 And such as govern'd only by their will, 
 And not their reason, unlamented fall ; 
 No good man's tear shed at their funeral. 
 [Exeunt ; the Tribunes bearing the body of 
 Caesar. 
 
The Great Duke of Florence. 
 
 DRAMATIS PERSONS. 
 
 Cozimo, duke of Florence. 
 
 Giovanni, nephew to the duke. 
 
 Sanazarro, the duke s favourite. 
 
 Carolo Charomonte, Giovanni's tutor. 
 
 Contarino, secretary to the duke. 
 
 Alphonso, ~l 
 
 Hippolito, ^counsellors of state. 
 
 Hieronimo, J 
 
 Calandrino, a merry fellow, servant to Gio- 
 
 Bernardo, "1 
 
 Caponi, ^servants to Charomonte, 
 
 Petruchio, J 
 
 A Gentleman. 
 
 Fiorinda, duchess fl/'Urbin. 
 
 Lidia, daughter to Charomonte. 
 
 Calaminta, servant to Fiorinda. 
 
 Petronella, a foolish servant to Lidia. 
 
 Attendants, Servants, &c. 
 
 SCENE, Partly in Florence, and partly at the residence 0/" Charomonte in the country. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 SCENE I. The Country. A Room in 
 Charomonte's House. 
 
 Enter Charomonte and Contarino. 
 Char. You bring your welcome with you. 
 Cont. Sir, I find it 
 In every circumstance. 
 
 Char. Again most welcome. 
 Yet, give me leave to wish (and pray you, 
 
 excuse me, 
 
 For I must use the freedom I was born with) 
 The great duke's pleasure had commanded 
 
 you 
 
 To my poor house upon some other service; 
 Not this you are design'd to : but his will 
 Must be obey'd, howe'er it ravish from me 
 The happy conversation of one 
 As dear to me as the old Romans held 
 Their household Lars, whom they believed 
 
 had power 
 To bless and guard their families. 
 
 Cont. 'Tis received so 
 On my part, signior ; nor can the duke 
 But promise to himself as much as may 
 Be hoped for from a nephew. And 'twere 
 
 weakness 
 In any man to doubt, that Giovanni, 
 Train'd up by your experience and care 
 In all those arts peculiar and proper 
 To future greatness, of necessity 
 Must in his actions, being grown a man, 
 Make good the princely education 
 Which he derived from you. 
 Char. I have discharged, 
 To the utmost of my power, the trust the 
 
 duke 
 
 Committed to me, and with joy perceive 
 The seed of my endeavours was not sown 
 Upon the barren sands, but fruitful glebe, 
 Which yields a large increase : my noble 
 
 charge, 
 
 By hissharp wit, and pregnant apprehension, 
 Instructing those that teach him ; making 
 
 use, 
 
 Not in a vulgar and pedantic form, 
 Of what s read to him, but 'tis straight di- 
 gested, 
 
 And truly made his own. His grave dis- 
 course, 
 
 In one no more indebted unto years, 
 Amazes such as hear him : horsemanship, 
 And skill to use his weapon, are by practice 
 Familiar to him : as for knowledge in 
 Music, he needs it not, it being born with 
 
 him ; 
 All that he speaks being with such grace 
 
 deliver'd, 
 That it makes perfect harmony. 
 
 Cont. You describe 
 A wonder to me. 
 
 Char. Sir, he is no less ; 
 And that there may be nothing wanting that 
 May render him complete, the sweetness of 
 His disposition so wins on all 
 Appointed to attend him, that they are 
 Rivals, even in the coarsest office, who 
 Shall get precedency to do him service ; 
 Which they esteem a greater happiness, 
 Than if they had been fashion'd and built up 
 To hold command o'er others. 
 
 Cont. And what place 
 Does he now bless with his presence ? 
 Char. He is now 
 
4224 
 
 THE GREAT DUKE OF FLORENCE. 
 
 Running at the ring, at which he's excellent. 
 He does allot for every exercise 
 A several hour ; for sloth, the nurse of vices, 
 And rust of action, is a stranger to him. 
 But I fear I am tedious, let us pass, 
 j If you please, to some other subject, though 
 
 I cannot 
 Deliver him as he deserves. 
 
 Cont. You have given him 
 A noble character. 
 
 Char. And how, I pray you, 
 1 <For we, that never look beyond our villas, 
 i Must be inquisitive,) are state affairs 
 Carried in court ? 
 
 Cont. There's little alteration : 
 Some rise, and others fall, as it stands with 
 The pleasure of the duke, their great dis- 
 poser. 
 
 Char. Does Lodovico Sanazarro hold 
 Weight, and grace with him ? 
 
 Cont. Every day new honours 
 Are shower'd upon jhim, and without the 
 
 envy 
 I Of such as are good men ; since all confess 
 
 The service done our master in his wars 
 ; 'Gainst Pisa and Sienna may with justice 
 Claim what's conferr'd upon him. 
 
 Char. 'Tis said nobly ; 
 For princes never more make known their 
 
 wisdom, 
 Than when they cherish goodness where 
 
 they find it : 
 
 They being men, and not gods, Contarino, 
 They can give wealth and titles, but no 
 
 virtues ; 
 That is without their power. When they 
 
 advance, 
 
 Not out of judgment, but deceiving fancy, 
 An undeserving man, howe'er set off 
 With all the trim of greatness, state, and 
 
 power, 
 
 And of a creature even grown terrible 
 To him from whom he took his giant form, 
 This thing is still a comet, no true star ; 
 And when the bounties feeding his false fire 
 Begin to fail, will of itself go out, 
 And what was dreadful, proves ridiculous. 
 But in our Sanazarro 'tis not so, 
 He being pure and tried gold; and any stamp 
 Of grace, to make him current to the world, 
 The duke is pleased to give him, will add 
 
 honour 
 To the great bestower; for he, though 
 
 allow'd 
 
 Companion to his master, still preserves 
 His majesty in full lustre. 
 
 Cont. He, indeed, 
 
 At no part does take from it, but becomes 
 A partner of his cares, and eases him, 
 
 With willing shoulders, of a burthen which 
 He should alone sustain. 
 Char. Is he yet married ? 
 Cont. No, signior, still a bachelor; 
 
 howe'er 
 
 It is apparent that the choicest virgin 
 For beauty, bravery, and wealth, in Florence, 
 Would, with her parents' glad consent, be 
 
 won, 
 
 Were his affection and intent but known, 
 To be at his devotion. 
 
 Char. So I think too. 
 
 But break we off here comes my princely 
 charge. 
 
 Enter Giovanni and Calandrino. 
 
 Make your approaches boldly ; you will find 
 A courteous entertainment. [Cont. kneels. 
 
 Giov. Pray you, forbear 
 My hand, good signior ; 'tis a ceremony 
 Not due to me. 'Tis fit we should embrace 
 With mutual arms. 
 
 Cont. It is a favour, sir, 
 I grieve to be denied. 
 
 Giov. You shall o'ercome : 
 But 'tis your pleasure, not -my pride, that 
 
 grants it. 
 Nay, pray you, guardian, and good sir, 
 
 put on : 
 
 How ill it shews to have that reverend head 
 Uncover 'd to a boy ! 
 
 Char. Your excellence 
 Must give me liberty to observe the distance 
 And duty that I owe you. 
 
 Giov . Owe me duty ! 
 I do profess (and when I do deny it, 
 Good fortune leave me !) you have been tome 
 A second father, and may justly challenge, 
 For training up my youth in arts and arms, 
 As much respect and service, as was due 
 To him that gave me life. And did you 
 
 know, sir, 
 
 Or will believe from me, how many sleeps 
 Good Charomonte hath broken, in his care 
 To build me up a man, you must confess 
 Chiron, the tutor to the great Achilles, 
 Compared with him, deserves not to be named. 
 And if my gracious uncle, the great duke, 
 Still holds me worthy his consideration, 
 Or finds in me aught worthy to be loved, 
 That little rivulet flow'd from this spring ; 
 And so from me report him. 
 
 Cont. Fame already 
 Hath fill'd his highness' ears with the true 
 
 story 
 Of what you are, and how much better'd by 
 
 him. 
 
 And 'tis his purpose to reward the travail 
 Of this grave sir, with a magnificent hand. 
 
THE GREAT DUKE OF FLORENCE. 
 
 225 
 
 For, though his tenderness hardly could con- 
 sent 
 
 To have you one hour absent from his sight, 
 For full three years he did deny himself 
 The pleasure he took in you, that you, here, 
 From this great master, might arrive unto 
 The theory of those high mysteries 
 Which you, by action, must make plain in 
 
 court. 
 'Tis, therefore, his request, (and that, from 
 
 him, 
 
 Your excellence must grant a strict command, ) 
 That instantly (it being not five hours riding) 
 You should take horse and visit him. These 
 
 his letters 
 Will yield you further reasons. 
 
 [Delivers a packet. 
 Cal. To the court ! 
 Farewell the flower, then, of the country's 
 
 garland. 
 
 This is our sun, and when he's set, we must not 
 Expect or spring or summer, but resolve 
 For a perpetual winter. 
 Char. Pray you, observe 
 
 [Giovanni reading the letters. 
 The frequent changes in his face. 
 
 Cont. As if 
 
 His much unwillingness to leave your house 
 Contended with his duty. 
 
 Char. Now he appears 
 Collected and resolved. 
 Giov. It is the duke ! 
 
 The duke, upon whose favour all my hopes 
 And fortunes do depend. Nor must I check 
 At his commands for any private motives 
 That do invite my stay here, though they are 
 Almost not to be master'd. My obedience, 
 In my departing suddenly, shall confirm 
 I am his highness" creature ; yet, I hope 
 A little stay to take a solemn farewell 
 Of all those ravishing pleasures I have tasted 
 In this my sweet retirement, from my 
 
 guardian, 
 
 And his incomparable daughter, cannot meet 
 An ill construction. 
 
 Cont. I will answer that : 
 Use your own will. 
 
 Giov. I would speak to you, sir, 
 In su'ch a phrase as might express the thanks 
 
 My heart would gladly pay ; but 
 
 Char. I conceive you : 
 And something I would say ; but I must not 
 
 do it 
 
 In that dumb rhetoric which you make 
 use of ; 
 
 For I do wish you all 1 know not how, 
 
 My toughness melts, and, spite of my dis- 
 cretion, 
 I must turn woman. {Embraces Giovanni. 
 
 Cont. What a sympathy 
 There is between them ! 
 
 Cal. Were I on the rack, 
 I could not shed a tear. But I am mad, 
 And, ten to one, shall hang myself for sorrow,' 
 Before I shift my shirt. But hear you, sir, 
 (I'll separate you,) when you are go'ne, what 
 
 will 
 Become of me ? 
 
 Giov. Why, thou shalt to court with me. 
 [TVz&tfChar. aside.- 
 Cal. To see you worried ? 
 Cont. Worried, Calandrine ! 
 Cal. Yes, sir : for, bring this sweet face 
 
 to the court, 
 There will be such a longing 'mong the 
 
 madams, 
 Who shall engross it first, nay, fight and- 
 
 scratch for't, 
 
 That, if they be not stopp'd, for entertainment 
 They'll kiss his lips off. Nay, if you'll scape so, 
 And not be tempted to a further danger, 
 These succubae are so sharp set, that you must 
 Give out you are an eunuch. 
 
 Cont. Have a better 
 Opinion of court-ladies, and take care 
 Of your own stake. 
 
 Cal. For my stake, 'tis past caring. 
 I would not have a bird of unclean feathers 
 Handsel his lime twig, and so much for him : 
 There's something else that troubles me. 
 Cont. What's that? 
 Cal. Why, how to behave myself in court, 
 
 and tightly. 
 I have been told the very place transforms 
 
 men, 
 
 And that not one of a thousand, that before 
 Lived honestlyin the country on plain salads, 
 But bring him thither, mark me that, and 
 
 feed him 
 But a month or two with custards and court 
 
 cake-bread, 
 And he turns knave immediately. I'd be 
 
 honest ; 
 
 But I must follow the fashion, or die a beggar. 
 Giov. And, if I ever reach my hopes, 
 
 believe it, 
 We will share fortunes. 
 
 Char. This acknowledgement 
 
 Enter Lidia. 
 
 Binds me your debtor ever. Here comes one 
 In whose sad looks you easily may read 
 What her heart suffers, in that she is forced 
 To take her last leave of you. 
 
 Cont. As I live, 
 A beauty without parallel ! 
 
 Lid. Must you go, then, 
 So suddenly ? 
 
 
 
THE GREAT DUKE 6F FLORENCE. 
 
 Giov. There's no evasion, Lidin, 
 To gain the least delay, though I would buy it 
 At any rate. Greatness, with private men 
 Esteem'd a blessing, is to me a curse ; 
 And we, whom, for our high births, they 
 
 conclude 
 
 The only freemen, are the only slaves. 
 Happy the golden mean ! had I been born 
 In a poor sordid cottage, not nurs'd up 
 With expectation to command a court, 
 I might, like such of your condition, sweetest, 
 Have ta'en a safe and middle course, and 
 
 not, 
 
 As I am now, against my choice, compell'd 
 Or to lie grovelling on the earth, or raised 
 So high upon the pinnacles of state, 
 That I must either keep my height with 
 
 danger, 
 Or fall with certain ruin. 
 
 Lid. Your own goodness 
 Will bu your faithful guard. 
 
 Giov. O, Lidia ! 
 
 Co fit. So passionate ! [Aside. 
 
 Giov. For, had I been your equal, 
 I might have seen and liked with mine own 
 
 eyes, 
 
 And not, as now, with others ; I might still, 
 And without observation, or envy, 
 As I have done, continued my delights 
 With you, that are alone, in my esteem, 
 The abstract of society : we might walk 
 In solitary groves, or in choice gardens ; 
 From the variety of curious flowers 
 Contemplate nature's workmanship, and 
 
 wonders : 
 
 And then, for change, near to the murmur of 
 Some bubbling fountain, I might hear you 
 
 sing, 
 And, from the well-tuned accents of your 
 
 tongue, 
 
 In my imagination conceive 
 With what melodious harmony a quire 
 Of angels sing above their Maker's praises. 
 And then with chaste discourse, as we re- 
 
 turn'd, 
 
 Imp feathers to the broken wings of time : 
 And all this I must part from. 
 
 Cent. You forget 
 The haste imposed upon us. 
 
 Giov . One word more, 
 And then I come. And after this, when, with 
 Continued innocence of love and service, 
 I had grown ripe for Hymeneal joys, 
 Embracing you, but with a lawful flame, 
 I might have been your husband. 
 
 Lid. Sir, I was, 
 
 And ever am, your sen-ant ; but it was, 
 And 'tis, far from me in a thought to cherish 
 Such saucy hopes. If I had been the heir 
 
 Of all the globes and sceptres mankind 
 
 bows to, 
 
 At my best you had deserved me ; as I am, 
 Howe'er unworthy, in my virgin zeal 
 I wish you, as a partner of your bed, 
 A princess equal to you ; such a one 
 That may make it the study of her life, 
 With all 'the obedience of 'a wife, to please 
 
 you. 
 
 May you have happy issue, and I live 
 To be their humblest handmaid ! 
 
 Giov. I am dumb, 
 And can make no reply. 
 
 Co nt. Your excellence 
 Will be benighted. 
 
 Giov. This kiss, bathed in tears, 
 May learn you what I should say. 
 
 Lid. Give me leave 
 To wait on you to your horse. 
 
 Char. And me to bring you 
 To the one half of your journey. 
 
 Giov. Your love puts 
 Your age to too much trouble. 
 
 Char. I grow young, 
 When most I serve you. 
 
 Cont. Sir, the duke shall thank you. 
 
 \Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE II. Florence. A Room in Hie 
 
 Palace. 
 
 Enter Alphonso, Hippolito, d-7/rfHieronimo. 
 A Iph. His highness cannot take it ill. 
 Hip. However, 
 
 We with our duties shall express our care 
 For the safety of his dukedom. 
 Hicr. And our loves 
 
 Enter Cozimo. 
 To his person. Here he comes : present it 
 
 boldly. 
 
 \They kneel, Alphonso tenders a paper. 
 Coz. What needs this form ? We are not 
 
 grown so proud 
 
 As to disdain familiar conference 
 With such as are to counsel and direct us. 
 This kind of adoration showed not well 
 In the old Roman emperors, who, forgetting 
 That they were flesh and blood, would be 
 
 styled gods : 
 In us 'to suffer it, were worse. Pray you, 
 
 rise. [Reads. 
 
 Still the old suit ! With too much curious- 
 ness 
 You have too often search'd this wound, 
 
 which yields 
 
 Security and rest, not trouble to me. 
 For here you grieve, that my firm resolution 
 Continues me a widower; and that 
 Mv want of issue to succeed me in 
 
THE GREAT DUKE OF FLORENCE. 
 
 227 
 
 My government, when I am dead, may 
 
 breed 
 
 Distraction in the state, and make the name 
 And family of the Medici, now admired, ( 
 Contemptible. 
 
 Hip, And with strong reasons, sir. 
 Alph. For, were you old, and past hope 
 
 to beget 
 
 The model of yourself, we should be silent. 
 Hier. But, being in your height and pride 
 
 of years, 
 
 As you are now, great sir, and having, too, 
 In your possession the daughter of 
 The deceased duke of Urbin, and his heir, 
 Whose guardian you are made ; were you 
 
 but pleased 
 
 To think her worthy of you, besides chil- 
 dren, 
 The dukedom she brings with her for a 
 
 dower 
 Will yield a large increase of strength and 
 
 power 
 
 To those fair territories which already 
 Acknowledge you their absolute lord. 
 
 Coz. You press us 
 
 With solid arguments, we grant ; and, though 
 We stand not bound to yield account to any 
 Why we do this or that, (the full consent 
 Of our subjects being included in our will,) 
 We, out of our free bounties, will deliver 
 The motives that divert us. You well know 
 That, three years since, to our much grief, 
 
 we lost 
 Our dutchess; such a dutchess, that the 
 
 world, 
 
 In her whole course of life, yields not a lady 
 That can with imitation deserve 
 To be her second : in her grave we buried 
 All thoughts of woman : let this satisfy 
 For any second marriage. Now, whereas 
 You name the heir of Urbin, as a princess 
 Of great revenues, 'tis confess'd she is so : 
 But for some causes private to ourself, 
 We have disposed her otherwise. Yet despair 
 
 not ; 
 
 For you, ere long, with joy shall understand 
 That in our princely care we have provided 
 One worthy to succeed us. 
 
 Enter Sanazarro. 
 
 Hip. We submit, 
 
 And hold the counsels of great Cozimo 
 Oraculous. 
 
 Coz, My Sanazarro ! Nay, 
 Forbear all ceremony. You look sprightly, 
 
 friend, 
 
 And promise in your clear aspect some novel 
 That may delight us. 
 
 Sanaz. O sir, I would not be 
 
 The harbinger of aught that might distaste 
 
 you : 
 
 And therefore know (for 'twere a sin to torture 
 Your highness' expectation) your vice-ad- 
 miral, 
 
 By my directions, hath surprised the gallies 
 Appointed to transport the Asian tribute 
 Of the great Turk ; a richer prize was never 
 Brought into Florence. 
 
 Coz. Still my nightingale, 
 That with sweet accents dost assure me that ~ 
 My spring of happiness comes fast upon me ! 
 Embrace me boldly. I pronounce that wretch 
 An enemy to brave and thriving action, 
 That dares believe but in a thought, we are 
 Too prodigal in our favours to this man, 
 Whose merits, though with him ive should 
 
 divide 
 
 Our dukedom, still continue us his debtor. 
 Hip. 'Tis far from me. 
 Alph. We all applaud it. 
 Coz. Nay, blush not, Sanazarro, we are 
 
 proud 
 
 Df what we build up in thee ; nor can our 
 Election be disparaged, since we have not 
 Received into our bosom and our grace 
 A glorious lazy drone, grown fat with feeding 
 On others' toil, but an industrious bee, 
 That crops the sweet flowers of our enemies, 
 And every happy evening returns 
 Loaden with wax and honey to our hive. 
 Sanaz. My best endeavours never can 
 
 discharge 
 The service I should pay. 
 
 Coz. Thou art too modest ; 
 But we will study how to give, and when, 
 
 Enter Giovanni and Contarino. 
 
 Before it be demanded. Giovanni ! 
 
 My nephew ! let me eye thee better, boy. 
 In thee, methinks, my sister lives again'; 
 For her love I will be a father to thee, 
 For thou art my adopted son. 
 
 Giov. Your servant, 
 And humblest subject. 
 
 Coz. Thy hard travel, nephew, 
 Requires soft rest, and therefore we forbear, 
 For the present, an account how thou hast 
 
 spent 
 
 Thy absent hours. See, signiors, see, our care, 
 Without a second bed, provides you of 
 A hopeful prince. Carry him to his lodgings, 
 And, for his further honour, Sanazarro, 
 With the rest, do you attend him. 
 
 Giov. All true pleasures 
 Circle your highness ! 
 
 Sanaz. As the rising sun, 
 We do receive you. 
 
 Giov. May this never set, 
 
 O2 
 
228 
 
 THE GREAT DUKE OF FLORENCE. 
 
 But shine upon you ever ! 
 \Exeunt Giovanni, Sanazarro, Hieronimo, 
 Alphonso, and HippoUto. 
 
 Coz. Contarino ! 
 
 Cont. My gracious lord. 
 
 Coz. What entertainment found you 
 From Carolo de Charomonte ? 
 
 Cont. Free, 
 
 And bountiful. He's ever like himself, 
 Noble and hospitable. 
 
 Coz. But did my nephew 
 Depart thence willingly ? 
 
 Cont. He obey'd your summons 
 As did become him. Yet it was apparent, 
 But that he durst not cross your will, lie would 
 Have sojourn'd longer there, he ever finding 
 Variety of sweetest entertainment. 
 But there was something else ; nor can I blame 
 His youth, though with some trouble he 
 
 took leave 
 Of such a sweet companion. 
 
 Coz. Who was it ? 
 
 Cont. The daughter, sir, of signior Carolo, 
 Fair Lidia, a virgin, at all parts, 
 But in her birth and fortunes, equal to him. 
 The rarest beauties Italy can make boast of, 
 Are but mere shadows to her, she the sub- 
 stance 
 
 Of all perfection. And what increases 
 The wonder, sir, her body's matchless form 
 Is betttr'd by the pureness of her soul. 
 Such sweet discourse, such ravishing be- 
 haviour, 
 Such charming language, such enchanting 
 
 manners, 
 
 With a simplicity that shames all courtship, 
 Flow hourly from her, that I do believe 
 Had Circe or Calypso her sweet graces, 
 Wandering Ulysses never had remember 'd 
 Penelope, or Ithaca. 
 
 Coz. Be riot rapt so. 
 
 Cont. Your Excellence would be so, had 
 you seen her. 
 
 Coz. Take up, take up. But did your 
 
 observation 
 
 Note any passage of affection 
 Between her and my nephew ? 
 
 Cont. How it should 
 Be otherwise between them, is beyond 
 My best imagination. Cupid's arrows 
 Were useless there ; for, of necessity, 
 Their years and dispositions do accord so, 
 They must wound one another. 
 
 Coz. Umph ! Thou art 
 My secretary, Contarino, and more skill'd 
 In politic designs of state, than in 
 Thy judgment of a beauty ; give me leave, 
 In this, todoubt it. Here. Go tomycabinet, 
 You shall find there letters newly received, 
 
 Touching the state of Uibin. 
 
 Pray you, with care peruse them : leave the ; 
 
 search 
 Of this to us. 
 
 Cont. I do obey in all things. [Exit, 
 
 Coz. Lidia ! a diamond so long conceal'd, 
 
 And never worn in court ! of such sweet 
 
 feature ! 
 
 And he on whom I fix my dukedom's hopes 
 Made captive to it ! Umph ! 'tis somewhat 
 
 strange. 
 
 Our eyes are everywhere, and we will make 
 A strict inquiry. Sanazarro ! 
 
 Re-enter Sanazarro. 
 
 Sanaz. Sir. 
 
 Coz. Is my nephew at his rest? 
 
 Sanaz. I saw him in bed, sir. 
 
 Coz. Tis well ; and does the princess 
 
 Fiorinda, 
 
 Nay, do not blush, she is rich Urbin's heir, 
 Continue constant in her favours to you ? 
 
 Sanaz. Dread sir, she may dispense them 
 
 as she pleases ; 
 
 But I look up to her as on a princess 
 I dare not be ambitious of, and hope 
 Her prodigal graces shall not render me 
 Offender to your highness. 
 
 Coz. Not a scruple. 
 He whom I favour, as I do my friend, 
 May take all lawful graces that become him : 
 But touching this hereafter. I have now 
 (And though perhaps it may appear a trifle) 
 Serious employment for thee. 
 
 Sanaz. I stand ready 
 For any act you please. 
 
 Coz. I know it, friend. 
 Have you ne'er heard of Lidia, the daughter 
 Of Carolo Charomonte ? 
 
 Sanaz. Him I know, sir, 
 For a noble gentleman, and my worthy friend; 
 But never heard of her. 
 
 Coz. She is deliver 'd, 
 And feelingly to us by Contarino, 
 For a masterpiece in nature. I would have 
 
 you 
 
 Ride' suddenly thither to behold this wonder, 
 But not as sent by us ; that's our first caution : 
 The second is, and carefully observe it, 
 That, though you are a bachelor, and en- 
 
 dow'd with 
 
 All those perfections that may take a virgin, 
 On forfeit of our favour do not tempt her : 
 It may be her fair graces do concern us. 
 Pretend what business you think fit, to gain 
 Access unto her father's house, and, there, 
 Make full discovery of her, and return me 
 A true relation : I have some ends in it, 
 With which we will acquaint you. 
 
THE GREAT DUKE OF FLORENCE. 
 
 229 
 
 Sanaz. This is, sir, 
 An easy task. 
 
 Coz. Yet one that must exact 
 Your secrecy and diligence. Let not 
 Your stay be long. 
 
 Sanaz. It shall not, sir. 
 
 Coz. Farewell, 
 
 And be, as you would keep our favour, 
 careful. [Exeunt. 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 SCENE I. The same. A Room in 
 
 Fiorinda's House. 
 Enter Fiorinda and Calaminta. 
 Fior. How does this dressing shew ? 
 Calam. 'Tis of itself 
 
 Curious and rare ; but, borrowing ornament, 
 As it does from your grace, that deigns 
 
 to wear it, 
 Incomparable. 
 Fior. Thou flatter'st me. 
 Calam. I cannot, 
 Your excellence is above k. 
 
 Fior. Were we less perfect, 
 Yet, being as we are, an absolute princess, 
 We of necessity must be chaste, wise, fair, 
 By our prerogative ! yet all these fail 
 To move where I would have them. How 
 
 received 
 
 Count Sanazarro the rich scarf I sent him 
 For his last visit? 
 
 Calam. With much reverence, 
 I dare not say affection. He express'd 
 More ceremony in his humble thanks, 
 Than feeling of the favour ; and appear'd 
 Wilfully ignorant, in my opinion, 
 Of what it did invite him to. 
 
 Fior. No matter ; 
 He's blind with too much light. Have you 
 
 not heard 
 
 Of any private mistress he's engaged to ? 
 Calam. Not any ; and this does amaze 
 
 me, madam, 
 
 That he, asoldier, one that drinks rich wines, 
 Feeds high, and promises as much as Venus 
 Could wish to find from Mars, should in his 
 
 manners 
 Be so averse to women. 
 
 Fior. Troth, I know not ; 
 He's man enough, and, if he has a haunt, 
 He preys, far off, like a subtle fox. 
 
 Calam. And that way 
 I do suspect him : for I learnt last night, 
 When the great duke went to rest, attended 
 
 by 
 
 One private follower, he took horse ; but 
 whither 
 
 He's rid, or to what end, I cannot guess at, 
 But I will find it out. 
 Fior. Do, faithful servant ; 
 
 Enter Calandrino. 
 
 We would not be abused. Who have we 
 here? 
 
 Calam. How the fool stares ! 
 
 Fior. And looks as if he were 
 Conning his neck-verse. 
 
 Cal. If I now prove perfect 
 In my A B C of courtship, Calandrino 
 Is made for ever. I am sent let me see, 
 On a How d'ye, as they call't. 
 
 Calam. What wouldst thou say? 
 
 Cal. Let me see my notes. These are 
 her lodgings ; well. 
 
 Calam. Art thou an ass? 
 
 Cal. Peace ! thou art a court wagtail, 
 
 [Looking on his instructions. 
 To interrupt me. 
 
 Fior. He ^ias given it you. 
 
 Cal. And then say to the illustrious Fi-o- 
 
 rin-da 
 I have it. Which is she ? 
 
 Calam. Why this ; fop-doodle. 
 
 Cal. Leave chattering, bull-finch ; you 
 
 would put me out, 
 
 But 'twfll not do. Then, after you have made 
 Your three obeisances to her, kneel and kiss 
 The skirt Q/ her gtnun. I am glad it is no 
 worse. 
 
 Calam. And why so, sir? 
 
 Cal. Because I was afraid 
 That, after the Italian garb, I should 
 Have kiss'd her backward. 
 
 Calam. This is sport unlocked for. 
 
 Cal. Are you the princess ? 
 
 Fior. Yes, sir. 
 
 Cal. Then stand fair, 
 For I am choleric ; and do not nip 
 A hopeful blossom. Out again : Three low 
 Obeisances. 
 
 Fior. I am ready. 
 
 Cal. I come on, then. 
 
 Calam. With much formality. 
 
 Cal. Umph ! One, two, three. 
 
 \_Makes antic cnrtesies. 
 Thus far I am right. Now for the last. 
 [Kisses the skirt ofhcrgoii>n.~\ O, rare ! 
 She is perfumed all over ! Sure great women, 
 Instead of little dogs, are privileged 
 To carry musk-cats. 
 
 Fior. Now the ceremony 
 Is pass'd, what is the substance ? 
 
 Cal. I'll peruse 
 My instructions, and then tell you. Her 
 
 skirt kiss'd, 
 Inform her highness that your lord 
 
230 
 
 THE GREAT DUKE OF FLORENCE. 
 
 Calam. Who's that ? 
 
 Cal. Prince Giovanni, who entreats your 
 
 grace, 
 That he, with your good favour, may have 
 
 leave 
 To present his service to you. I think I 
 
 have nick'd it 
 
 For a courtier of the first form. 
 Fior. To my wonder. 
 
 Enter Giovanni and a Gentleman. 
 
 Return unto the prince but he prevents 
 My answer. Galaminta, take him off ; 
 ' And, for the neat delivery of his message, 
 j Give him ten ducats : such rare parts as yours 
 Are to be cherish 'd. 
 
 Cal. We will share : I know 
 i It is the custom of the court, when ten 
 Are promised, five is fair. Fie ! fie ! the 
 
 princess 
 Shall never know it, so you dispatch me 
 
 quickly, 
 
 And bid me not come to-morrow. 
 Calam. Very good, sir. 
 
 [Exeunt Calandrino and Calaminta. 
 Giov. Pray you, friend, 
 Inform the duke I am putting into act 
 ' What he commanded. 
 
 Gent. I am proud to be employ'd, sir. 
 
 [Exit. 
 Giov. Madam, that, without warrant, I 
 
 presume 
 
 To trench upon your privacies, may argue 
 Rudeness of manners ; but the free access 
 Your princely courtesy vouchsafes to all 
 That come to pay theifservices, gives me hope 
 To find a gracious pardon. 
 Fior. If you please, not 
 To make that an offence in your construction, 
 Which I receive as a large favour from you, 
 There needs not this apology. 
 
 Giov. You continue, 
 
 As you were ever, the greatest mistress of 
 Fair entertainment. 
 
 Fior. You are, sir, the master ; 
 And in the country have learnt to outdo 
 j All that in court is practised. But why 
 
 should we 
 
 Talk atsuch distance? You are welcome, sir. 
 ! We have been more familiar, and since 
 J You will impose the province (you should 
 
 govern) 
 
 Of boldness on me, give me leave to say 
 You are too punctual. Sit, sir, and discourse 
 As we were used. 
 
 Giov. Your excellence knows so well 
 How to command, that I can never err 
 When I obey you. 
 
 Fior. Nay, no more of this. 
 
 You shall o'ercome ; no more, I pray you, 
 
 sir. 
 
 And what delights, pray you be liberal 
 In your relation, hath the country life 
 Afforded you ? 
 
 Giov. All pleasures, gracious madam, 
 But the happiness to converse with your 
 
 sweet virtues. 
 
 I had a grave instructor, and my hours 
 Design'd to serious studies yielded me 
 Pleasure with profit in the knowledge of 
 What before I was ignorant in ; the signior, 
 Carolo de Charomonte, being skilful 
 To guide me through the labyrinth of wild 
 
 passions, 
 
 That labour'd to imprison my free soul 
 A slave to vicious sloth. 
 Fior. You speak him well. 
 Giov. But short of his deserts. Then for 
 
 the time 
 
 Of recreation, I was allow'd 
 (Against the form follow'd by jealous parents 
 In Italy) full liberty to partake 
 His daughter's sweet society. She's a virgin 
 Happy in all endowments which a poet 
 Could fancy in his mistress ; being herself 
 A school of goodness, where chaste maids 
 
 may learn, 
 Without the aid of foreign principles, 
 By the example of her life and pureness, 
 To be as she is, excellent. I but give you 
 A brief epitome of her virtues, which, 
 Dilated on at large, and to their merit, 
 Would make an ample story. 
 
 Fior. Your whole age, 
 So spent with such a father, and a daughter, 
 Could not be tedious to you. 
 
 Giov. True, great princess : 
 And now, since you have pleased to grant 
 
 the hearing 
 Of my time's expense in the country, give 
 
 me leave 
 
 To entreat the favour to be made acquainted 
 What service, or what objects in the court, 
 Have, in your excellency's acceptance, proved 
 Most gracious to you. 
 
 Fior. I'll meet your demand, 
 And make a plain discovery. The duke's 
 
 care 
 
 For my estate and person holds the first 
 And choicest place : then, the respect the 
 
 courtiers 
 
 Pay gladly to me, not to be contemn'd. 
 But that which raised in me the most delight, 
 (For I am a friend to valour,) was to hear 
 The noble actions truly reported 
 Of the brave count Sanazarro. I profess 
 When it hath been, and fervently, deliver'd, 
 How boldlv, in the horror of a fight, 
 
THE GREAT DUKE OF FLORENCE. 
 
 Cover'd with fire and smoke, and, as if 
 
 nature 
 Had lent him wings, like lightning he hath 
 
 fallen 
 
 Upon the Turkish gallies, I have heard it 
 With a kind of pleasure, which hath whis- 
 
 per'd to me, 
 This worthy must be cherish'd. 
 
 Giov. 'Twas a bounty 
 You never can repent. 
 
 Fior. I glory in it. 
 
 And when he did return, (but still with con- 
 quest,) 
 
 His armour off, not young Antinous 
 Appcar'd more courtly ; all the graces that 
 Render a man's society dear to ladies, 
 Like pages waiting on him ; and it does 
 Work strangely on me. 
 
 Giov. To divert your thoughts, 
 Though they are fix'd upon a noble subject, 
 I am a suitor to you. 
 
 Fior. You will ask, 
 
 I do presume, what I may grant, and then 
 It must not be denied. 
 
 Giov. It is a favour 
 
 For which I hope your excellence will thank 
 me. 
 
 Fior. Nay, without circumstance. 
 
 Giov. That you would please 
 To take occasion to move the duke, 
 That you, with his allowance, may com- 
 mand 
 
 This matchless virgin, Lidia, (of whom 
 I/cannot speak tco much,) to wait upon you. 
 She's such a one, upon the forfeit of 
 /Your good opinion of me, that will not 
 Be a blemish to your train. 
 
 Fior. 'Tis rank ! he loves her : 
 But I will fit him with a suit. [Aside.] I 
 
 pause not, 
 
 As if it bred or doubt or scruple in me 
 To do what you desire, for I'll effect it, 
 And make use of a fair and fit occasion ; 
 Yet, in return, I ask a boon of you, 
 And hope to find you, in your grant to me, 
 I As I have been to you. 
 
 Giov. Command me, madam. 
 
 Fior. 'Tis near allied to yours. That 
 
 you would be 
 
 A suitor to the duke, not to expose, 
 ! After so many trials of his faith, 
 j The noble Sanazarro to all dangers, 
 | As if he were a wall to stand the fury 
 i Of a perpetual battery : but now 
 To grant him, after his long labours, rest 
 And liberty to live in court ; his arms 
 And his victorious sword and shield hung up 
 For monuments. 
 
 Giov. Umph ! I'll embrace, fair princess, 
 
 Enter Cozimo. 
 
 The soonest opportunity. The duke ! 
 Coz. Nay, blush not ; we smile on your 
 
 privacy, 
 And come not to disturb you. You are 
 
 equals, 
 
 And, without prejudice to either's honours, 
 May make a mutual change of love and 
 
 courtship, 
 
 Till you are made one, and with holy rites, 
 And we give suffrage to it. 
 Giov. You are gracious. 
 Coz. To ourself in this : but now break 
 
 oft'; too much 
 
 Taken at once of the most curious viands. 
 Dulls the sharp edge of appetite. We are 
 
 now 
 
 For other sports, in which our pleasure is 
 That you shall keep us company. 
 
 Fior. We attend you. \Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE II. The Country. A Hall in 
 
 Charomonte's House. 
 Enter Bernardo, Caponi, and Petruchio. 
 Bern. Is my lord stirring? 
 Cap. No ; he's fast. 
 Pet. Let us take, then, 
 Our morning draught. Such as eat store of 
 
 beef, 
 Mutton, and capons, may preserve their 
 
 healths 
 
 With that thin composition call'd small beer, 
 As, 'tis said, they do in England. But Italians, 
 That think when they have supp'd upon an 
 
 olive, 
 
 A root, or bunch of raisins, 'tis a feast, 
 Must kill those crudities rising from cold herbs, 
 With hot and lusty wines. 
 
 Cap. A happiness 
 Those tramontanes ne'er tasted. 
 
 Bern. Have they not 
 Store of wine there ? 
 
 Cap. Yes, and drink more in two hours 
 Than the Dutchmen or the Dane in four and" 
 
 twenty. 
 Pet. But what is't ? French trash, made 
 
 of rotten grapes, 
 And dregs and lees of Spain, with Welsh 
 
 metheglin, 
 
 A drench to kill a horse ! But this pure nectar, 
 Being proper to our climate, is too fine 
 To brook the roughness of the sea ; the spirit 
 Of this begets in us quick apprehensions, 
 And active executions ; whereas their 
 Gross feeding makes their understanding 
 
 like it : 
 They can fight, and that's their all. 
 
 [They drink. 
 
THE GREAT DUKE OF FLORENCE. 
 
 Enter Sanazarro and Servant. 
 
 Sanaz. Security 
 Dwells about this house, I think ; the gate's 
 
 wide open, , 
 
 And not a servant stirring. See the horses 
 Set up, and clothed. 
 
 Serv. I shall, sir. {Exit. 
 
 Sanaz. I'll make bold 
 To press a little further. 
 
 Bern. Who is this, 
 Count Sanazarro? 
 
 Pet. Yes, I know him. Quickly 
 fiemove the flaggon. 
 
 Sanaz. A good day to you, friends. 
 Nay, do not conceal your physic ; I approve it, 
 And, if you please, will be a patient with you. 
 
 Pet. My noble lord. [Drinks. 
 
 Sanaz. A health to yours. [Drinks.'} Well 
 
 done ! 
 
 I see you love yourselves, and I commend you ; 
 'Tis the best wisdom. 
 
 Pet. May it please your honour 
 To walk a turn in the gallery, I'll acquaint 
 My lord with your being here. [Exit. 
 
 Sanaz. Tell him I come 
 For a visit only. 'Tis a handsome pile this. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Cap. Why here is a brave fellow, and a 
 
 right one ; 
 Nor wealth nor greatness makes him proud. 
 
 Bern. There are 
 Too few of them ; for most of our new 
 
 courtiers, 
 
 {Whose fathers were familiar with the prices 
 Of oil and corn, with when and where to 
 
 vent them, 
 
 And left their heirs rich, from their know- 
 ledge that way,) 
 Like gourds shot up in a night, disdain to 
 
 speak 
 But to cloth of tissue. 
 
 Enter Charomonte in a nightgown, 
 Petruchio following. 
 
 Char. Stand you prating, knaves, 
 When such a guest is under my roof ! See all 
 The rooms perfumed. This is the man that 
 
 carries 
 The sway and swing of the court ; and I 
 
 had rather 
 Preserve him mine with honest offices, 
 
 than 
 
 But I'll make no comparisons. Bid my 
 
 daughter 
 Trim herself up to the height ; I know this 
 
 courtier 
 Must have a smack at her ; and, perhaps, 
 
 by his place, 
 
 Expects to wriggle further ; if he does, 
 I shall deceive his hopes ; for I'll not taint 
 My honour for the dukedom. Which way 
 
 went he? 
 
 Cap. To the round gallery. 
 Char. I will entertain him 
 As fits his worth and quality, but no further. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE III. A Gallery in the same. 
 Enter Sanazarro. 
 
 Sanaz. I cannot apprehend, yet I have 
 
 argued 
 
 All ways I can imagine, for what reasons 
 The great duke does employ me hither ; and, 
 What does increase the miracle, I must 
 
 render 
 
 A strict and true account, at my return, 
 Of Lidia, this lord's daughter, and describe 
 In what she's excellent, and where defective. 
 'Tis a hard task : he that will undergo 
 To make a judgment of a woman's beauty, 
 And see through all her plasterings and 
 
 paintings, 
 Had need of Lynceus' eyes, and with more 
 
 ease 
 May look, like him, through nine mud walls, 
 
 than make 
 
 A true discovery of her. But the intents 
 And secrets of my prince's heart must be 
 Served, and not search'd into. 
 
 Enter Charomonte. 
 
 Char. Most noble sir, 
 
 Excuse my age, subject to ease and sloth, 
 
 That with no greater speed I have presented 
 
 My service with your welcome. 
 Sanaz. 'Tis more fit 
 
 That I should ask your pardon, for dis- 
 turbing 
 
 Your rest at this unseasonable hour. 
 
 But my occasions carry me so near 
 
 Your hospitable house, my stay being short 
 too, 
 
 Your goodness, and the name of friend, 
 which you 
 
 Are pleased to grace me with, gave me 
 assurance 
 
 A visit would not oftend. 
 Char. Offend, my lord ! 
 
 I feel myself much younger for the favour. 
 
 How is it with our gracious master ? 
 Sanaz. He, sir, 
 
 Holds still his wonted greatness, and con- 
 fesses 
 
 Himself your debtor, for your love and care 
 
 To the prince Giovanni ; and had sent 
 
 Particular thanks by me, had his grace known 
 
THE GREAT DUKE OF FLORENCE. 
 
 233 
 
 The quick dispatch of what I was design'd to 
 Would have licensed me to see you. 
 
 Char. I am rich 
 In his acknowledgment. 
 
 Sanaz. Sir, I have heard 
 Your happiness in a daughter. 
 
 Char. Sits the wind there ? [Aside. 
 
 Sanaz. Fame gives her out for a rare 
 masterpiece. 
 
 Char. Tis a plain village girl, sir, but 
 
 obedient ; 
 That's her best beauty, sir. 
 
 Sanaz. Let my desire 
 
 To see her, find a fair construction from you : 
 I bring no loose thought with me. 
 
 Char. You are that way, 
 My lord, free from suspicion. Her own 
 
 manners, 
 
 Without an imposition from me, 
 I hope, will prompt her to it. 
 
 Enter Lidia and Petronella. 
 
 As she is, 
 
 She comes to make a tender of that service 
 Which she stands bound to pay. 
 
 Sanaz. With your fair leave, 
 I make bold to salute you. 
 
 Lid. Sir, you have it. 
 
 Petron. I am her gentlewoman, will he 
 
 not kiss me too ? 
 This is coarse, i'faith. [Aside. 
 
 Char. How he falls off ! 
 
 Lid. My lord, though silence best becomes 
 
 a maid, 
 
 And to be curious to know but what 
 Concerns myself, and with becoming dis- 
 tance, 
 
 May argue me of boldness, I must borrow 
 So much of modesty, as to inquire 
 Prince Giovanni's health. 
 
 Sanaz. He cannot want 
 What you are pleased to wish him. 
 
 Lid. Would 'twere so ! 
 And then there is no blessing that can make 
 A hopeful and a noble prince complete, 
 But should fall on him. O ! he was our 
 
 north star, 
 The light and pleasure of our eyes. 
 
 Sanaz. Where am I ? 
 I feel myself another thing ! Can charms 
 Be writ on such pure rubies ? her lips melt 
 As soon as touch'd ! Not those smooth 
 
 gales that glide 
 
 O'er happy Araby, or rich Sabaea, 
 Creating in their passage gums and spices, 
 Can serve for a weak simile to express 
 The sweetness of her breath. Such a brave 
 stature 
 
 Homer bestow'd on Pallas, every limb 
 Proportion 'd to it ! 
 
 Char. This is strange. My lord ! 
 
 Sanaz. I crave your pardon, and yours, 
 
 matchless maid, 
 For such I must report you. 
 
 Petron. There's no notice 
 Taken all this while of me. [Aside. 
 
 Sanaz. And I must add, 
 If your discourse and reason parallel 
 The rareness of your more than human form, 
 You are a wonder. 
 
 Char. Pray you, my lord, make trial : 
 She can speak, I can assure you ; and that 
 
 my presence 
 May not take from her freedom, I will leave 
 
 you : 
 
 For know, my lord, my confidence dares trust 
 her 
 
 Where, and with whom, she pleases. 
 
 If he be 
 
 Taken the right way with her, I cannot fancy 
 A better match ; and, for false play, I know 
 The tricks, and can discern them. Petro- 
 nella ! 
 
 Petron. Yes, my good lord. 
 
 Char. I have employment for you. 
 
 [Exeunt Charomonte and Petronella. 
 
 Lid. What's your will, sir ? 
 
 Sanaz. Madam, you are so large a theme 
 
 to treat of, 
 
 And every grace about you offers to me 
 Such copiousness of language, that I stand 
 Doubtful which first to touch at. If I err, 
 As in my choice I may, let me entreat you, 
 Before I do offend, to sign my pardon : 
 Let this, the emblem of your innocence, 
 Give me assurance. 
 
 Lid. My hand join'd to yours, 
 Without this superstition, confirms it. 
 Nor need I fear you will dwell long upon me, 
 The barrenness of the subject yielding nothing 
 That rhetoric, with all her tropes and figures, 
 Can amplify. Yet since you are resolved 
 To prove yourself a courtier in my praise, 
 As I'm a woman (and you men affirm 
 Our sex loves to be flatter'd) I'll endure it. 
 
 Enter Charomonte above. 
 
 Now, when you please, begin. 
 Sanaz. [turning from her.'] Such Laeda's 
 
 paps were, 
 (Down pillows styled by Jove,) and their 
 
 pure whiteness 
 Shames the swan's down, or snow. No heat 
 
 of lust 
 
 Swells up her azure veins ; and yet I feel 
 That this chaste ice but touch'd fans fire in 
 
234 
 
 THE GREAT DUKE OF FLORENCE. 
 
 Lid. You need not, noble sir, be thus 
 
 transported, 
 
 Or trouble your invention to express 
 Your thought of me : the plainest phrase 
 
 and language 
 
 That you can use, will be too high a strain 
 For such an humble theme. 
 
 Sanaz. If the great duke 
 Made this his end to try my constant temper, 
 Though I am vanquish'd, 'tis his fault, not 
 
 mine : 
 
 For I am flesh and blood, and have affections 
 Like other men. Who can behold the 
 
 temples, 
 
 Or holy altars, but the objects work 
 Devotion in him ? And I may as well 
 Walk over burning iron with bare feet, 
 And be unscorch'd, as look upon this beauty 
 Without desire, and that desire pursued too, 
 Till it be quench'd with the enjoying those 
 Delights, which to achieve, danger is nothing, 
 And loyalty but a word. 
 
 Lid. I ne'er was proud ; 
 Nor can find I am guilty of a thought 
 Deserving this neglect and strangeness from 
 
 you : 
 Nor am I amorous. 
 
 Sanaz. Suppose his greatness 
 Loves her himself, why makes he choice of me 
 To be his agent ? It is tyranny 
 To call one pinch'd with hunger to a feast, 
 And at that instant cruelly deny him 
 To taste of what he sees. Allegiance 
 Tempted too far is like the trial of 
 A good sword on an anvil ; as that often 
 Flies in pieces without service to the owner, 
 So trust enforced too far proves treachery, 
 And is too late repented. 
 
 Lid. Pray you, sir, 
 Or license me to leave you, or deliver 
 The reasons which invite you to command 
 My tedious waiting on you. 
 
 Char. As I live, 
 
 I know not what to think on't. Is't his pride, 
 Or his simplicity ? 
 
 Sanaz. Whither have my thoughts 
 Carried me from myself? In this my dulness, 
 
 I've lost an opportunity 
 
 f Turns to her; she falls off. 
 
 Lid. Tistrue, 
 
 I was not bred in court, nor live a star there ; 
 Nor shine in rich embroideries and pearl, 
 As they, that are the mistresses of great 
 
 fortunes, 
 Are every day adorn'd with 
 
 Sanaz. Will you vouchsafe 
 Your ear, sweet lady ? 
 
 Lid. Yet I may be bold, 
 For my integrity and fame, to rank 
 
 With such as are more glorious. Though I 
 
 never 
 
 Did injury, yet I am sensible 
 When I'm c'ontemn'd and scorn'd. 
 
 Sanaz. W T ill you please to hear me? 
 
 Lid. O the difference of natures ! Giovanni, 
 A prince in expectation, when he lived here, 
 Stole courtesy from heaven, and would not to 
 The meanest servant in my father's house 
 Have kept such distance. 
 
 Sanaz. Pray you, do not think me 
 Unworthy of your ear ; it was your beauty 
 That turn'd me statue. I can speak, fair lady. 
 
 Lid. And I can hear. The harshness of 
 
 your courtship 
 Cannot corrupt my courtesy. 
 
 Sanaz. Will you hear me, 
 If I speak of love ? 
 
 Lid. Provided you be modest ; 
 I were uncivil, else. 
 
 Char. They are come to parley : 
 I must observe this nearer. \He retires. 
 
 Sanaz. You are a rare one, 
 And such (but that my haste commands me 
 
 hence) 
 
 I could converse with ever. Will you grace me 
 With leave to visit you again ? 
 
 Lid. So you, 
 
 At your return to court, do me the favour 
 To make a tender of my humble service 
 To the prince Giovanni. 
 
 Sanaz. Ever touching 
 Upon that string ! [AsideJ] And will you 
 
 give me hope 
 Of future happiness ? 
 
 Lid. That, as I shall find you : 
 The fort that's yielded at the first assault 
 Is hardly worth the taking. 
 
 Re-enter Charomonte below. 
 
 Char. O, they are at it. 
 
 Sanaz. She is a magazineof all perfection, 
 And 'tis death to part from her, yet I must 
 A parting kiss, fair maid. 
 
 Lid. That custom grants you. 
 
 Char. A homely breakfast does- attend: 
 
 your lordship, 
 Such as the place affords. 
 
 Sanaz. No ; I have feasted 
 Already here ; my thanks, and so I leave you : 
 I will see you again. Till this unhappy hour 
 I was never lost, and what to do, or say, 
 I have not yet determined. 
 
 \Aside and exit. 
 
 Char. Gone so abruptly ! 
 'Tis very strange. 
 
 Lid. Under your favour, sir, 
 His coming hither was to little purpose, 
 For anything I heard from him. 
 
THE GREAT DUKE OF FLORENCE. 
 
 235 
 
 Char. Take heed, Lidia ! 
 I do advise you with a father's love, 
 And tenderness of your honour ; as I would not 
 Have you coarse and harsh in giving enter- 
 tainment, 
 So by no means to be credulous : for great 
 
 men, 
 
 Till they have gain'd their ends, are giants in 
 Their promises, but, those obtain'd, weak 
 
 pigmies 
 
 In their performance. And it is a maxim 
 Allow'd among them, so they may deceive, 
 They may swear any thing ; for the queen of 
 
 love, 
 
 As they hold constantly, does never punish, 
 But smile, at lovers' perjuries. Yet be wise 
 
 too, 
 
 And when you are sued to in a noble way, 
 Be neither nice nor scrupulous. 
 
 Lid. All you speak, sir, 
 I hear as oracles ; nor will digress 
 From your directions. 
 
 Char. So shall you keep 
 Your fame untainted. 
 Lid, As I would my life, sir. [Exeunt. 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 SCENE I. Florence. An Atiteroom 
 in the Palace. 
 
 Enter Sanazarro and Servant. 
 
 Sanaz. Leave the horses with my grooms ; 
 
 but be you careful, 
 With your best diligence and speed, to find 
 
 out 
 
 The prince, and humbly, irimyname, entreat 
 I may exchange some private conference with 
 
 him 
 Before the great duke know of my arrival. 
 
 Serv. I haste, my lord. 
 
 Sanaz. Here I'll attend his coming : 
 And see you keep yourself, as much as maybe, 
 Conceal'd from all men else. 
 
 Scrv. To serve your lordship, 
 I wish I were invisible. [Exit. 
 
 Sanaz. I am driven 
 
 Into a desperate strait, and cannot steer 
 A middle course ; and of the two extremes 
 Which I must make election of, I know not 
 Which is more full of horror. Never servant 
 Stood more engaged to a magnificent master, 
 Than I to Cozimo : and all those honours 
 And glories by his grace conferr'd upon me, 
 Or by my prosperous services deserved, 
 If now I should deceive his trust, and make 
 A shipwreck of my loyalty, are ruin'd. 
 And, on the other side, if I discover 
 Lidia's divine perfections, all my hopes 
 
 In her are sunk, never to be buoy'd up : 
 For 'tis impossible, but, as soon as seen, 
 She must with adoration be sued to. 
 A hermit at his beads but looking on her, 
 Or the cold cynic, whom Corinthian Lais 
 (Not moved with her lust's blandishments) 
 
 call'd a stone, 
 At this object would take fire. Nor is the 
 
 duke 
 
 I Such an Hippolytus, but that this Phoedra, 
 But seen, must force him to forsake the 
 
 groves, 
 i And Dian's huntmanship, proud to serve 
 
 under 
 
 j Venus' soft ensigns. No, there is no way 
 I For me to hope fruition of my ends, 
 j But to conceal her beauties ; and how that 
 May be effected, is as hard a task 
 ' As with a veil to cover the sun's beams, 
 Or comfortable light. Three years the prince - 
 Lived in her company, and Contarino, 
 The secretary, hath possess'd the duke 
 What a rare piece she is : but he's my 
 
 creature, 
 
 And may with ease be frighted to deny 
 What he hath said ! and, if my long ex- 
 perience, 
 With some strong reasons I have thought 
 
 upon, 
 Cannot o'er-reach a youth, my practice 
 
 yields me 
 But little profit. 
 
 Enter Giovanni with the Servant. 
 
 Giov. You are well return'd, sir. 
 
 Sanaz. Leaveus. r.-tv/Servant.] When 
 that your grace shall know the motives 
 That forced me to invite you to this trouble, 
 You will excuse my manners. 
 
 Giov. Sir, there needs not 
 This circumstance between us. You are ever 
 My noble friend. 
 
 Sanaz. You shall have further cause 
 To assure you of my faith and zeal to serve 
 
 you. 
 
 A.nd, when I have committed to your trust 
 (Presuming still on your retentive silence) 
 A secret of no less importance than 
 My honour, nay, my head, it will confirm 
 
 hat value you hold with me. 
 
 Giov. Pray you, believe, sir, 
 What you deliver to me shall be lock'd up 
 In a strong cabinet, of which you yourself 
 Shall keep the key: for here I pawn my 
 
 honour, 
 
 Which is the best security I can give yet, 
 It shall not be discover'd. 
 
 Sanaz. This assurance 
 Is more than 1 with modesty could demand 
 
 My 
 
 Wh 
 
236 
 
 THE GREAT DUKE OF FLORENCE. 
 
 ] From such a paymaster ; but I must be 
 i sudden : 
 And therefore, to the purpose. Can your 
 
 Excellence, 
 
 In your imagination, conceive 
 On what design, or whither, the duke's will 
 'Commanded me hence last night? 
 
 Giov. No, I assure you ; 
 And it had been a rudeness to enquire 
 Of that I was not call'd to. 
 
 Sanaz. Grant me hearing, 
 And I will truly make you understand 
 'It only did concern you. 
 Giov. Me, my lord ! 
 Sanaz. You, in your present state, and 
 
 future fortunes ; 
 'For both lie at the stake. 
 
 Giov. You much amaze me. 
 Pray you, resolve this riddle. 
 
 Sanaz. You know the duke, 
 If he die issueless, as yet he is, 
 Determines you his heir. 
 
 Giov. It hath pleased his highness 
 Oft to profess so much. 
 
 Sanaz. But say, he should 
 Be won to prove a second wife, on whom 
 He may beget a son, how, in a moment, 
 With all those glorious expectations, which 
 Render you reverenced and remarkable, 
 *3e in a moment blasted, howe'er you are 
 His much-lov'd sister's son ! 
 
 Giov. I must bear it 
 With patience, and in me it is a duty 
 That I was born with ; and 'twere much 
 
 unfit 
 
 For the receiver of a benefit 
 To offer, for his own ends, to prescribe 
 Laws to the giver's pleasure. 
 Sanaz. Sweetly answer'd, 
 And like your noble self. This your rare 
 
 temper 
 
 So wins upon me, that I would not live 
 ( If that by honest arts I can prevent it) 
 To see your hopes made frustrate. And but 
 
 think 
 How you shall be transform'd from what 
 
 you are, 
 
 Should this (as heaven avert it !) ever happen. 
 It must disturb your peace : for whereas now, 
 Being, as you are, received for the heir ap- 
 parent, 
 
 You are no sooner seen, but wonder 'd at ; 
 The signiors making it a business to 
 Enquire how you have slept ; and, as you 
 
 walk 
 
 The streets of Florence, the glad multitude 
 In throngs press but to see you ; and, with 
 
 joy. 
 The father, pointing with his finger, tells 
 
 His son, This is the prince, the hopeful 
 
 prince, 
 That must hereafter rule, and you obey 
 
 him. 
 
 Great ladies beg your picture, and make love 
 To that, despairing to enjoy the substance. 
 And, but the last night, when 'twas only 
 
 .mmour'd 
 
 That you were come to court, as if you had 
 By sea past hither from another world, 
 What general shouts and acclamations fol- 
 io w'd ! 
 The bells rang loud, the bonfires blazed, 
 
 and such 
 
 As loved not wine, carousing to your health, 
 Were drunk, and blush 'd not at it. And is 
 
 this 
 A happiness to part with ? 
 
 Giov. I allow these 
 
 As flourishes of fortune, with which princes 
 Are often sooth'd ; but never yet esteem'd 
 
 them 
 For real blessings. 
 
 Sanaz. Yet all these were paid 
 To what you may be, not to what you are ; 
 For if the Great Duke but shew to his ser- 
 vants 
 
 A son of his own, you shall, like one ob- 
 scure, 
 Pass unregarded. 
 
 Giov. I confess, command 
 Is not to be contemn'd, and if my fate 
 Appoint me to it, as I may, I'll bear it 
 With willing shoulders. But, my lord, as yet, 
 You've told me of a danger coming towards 
 
 me, 
 But have not named it. 
 
 Sanaz. That is soon deliver 'd. 
 Great Cozimo, your uncle, as I more 
 Than guess, for 'tis no frivolous circumstance 
 That does persuade my judgment to believe it. 
 Purposes to be married. 
 
 Giov. Married, sir ! 
 With whom, and on what terms? pray you, 
 
 instruct me. 
 
 Sanaz. With the fair Lidia. 
 Giov. Lidia! 
 Sanaz. The daughter 
 Of signior Charomonte. 
 
 Giov. Pardon me 
 
 Though I appear incredulous ; for, on 
 My knowledge, he ne'er saw her. 
 
 Sanaz. That is granted : 
 But Contarino hath so sung her praises, 
 And given her out for such a masterpiece, 
 That he's transported with it, sir : and love 
 Steals sometimes through the ear into the 
 
 heart, 
 As well as by the eye. The duke no sooner 
 
THE GREAT DUKE OF FLORENCE. 
 
 237 
 
 Heard her described, but I was sent in post 
 To see her, and return my judgment of her. 
 
 Giov. And what's your censure ? 
 
 Sanaz. 'Tis a pretty creature. 
 
 Giov. She's very fair. 
 
 Sanaz. Yes, yes, I have seen worse faces. 
 
 Giov. Her limbs are neatly ibrm'd. 
 
 Sanaz. She hath a waist 
 Indeed sized to love's wish. 
 
 Giov. A delicate hand too. 
 
 Sanaz. Then for a leg and foot 
 
 Giov. And there I leave you, 
 For I presumed no further. 
 
 Sanaz. As she is, sir, 
 
 I know she wants no gracious part that may 
 Allure the duke ; and, if he only see her, 
 She is his own ; he will not be denied, 
 And then you are lost ; yet, if you'll second me, 
 (As you have reason, for it most concerns you,) 
 I can prevent all yet. 
 
 Giov. I would you could, 
 A noble way. 
 
 Sanaz. I will cry down her beauties ; 
 Especially the beauties of her mind, 
 As much as Contarino hath advanced them ; 
 And this, I hope, will breed forgetfulness, 
 And kill affection in him : but you must join 
 With me in my report, if you be question'd. 
 
 Giov. I never told a lie yet ; and I hold it 
 In some degree blasphemous to dispraise 
 What's worthy admiration : yet, for once, 
 I will dispraise a little, and not vary 
 From your relation. 
 
 Sanaz. Be constant in it. 
 
 Enter Alphonso. 
 
 Alph. My lord, the duke hath seen your 
 man, and wonders 
 
 Enter Cozimo, Hippolito, Contarino, and 
 Attendants. 
 
 You come not to him. See, if his desire 
 To have conference with you hath not 
 
 brought him hither 
 In his own person ! 
 
 Coz. They are comely coursers, 
 And promise swiftness. 
 
 Cont. They are, of my knowledge, 
 Of the best race in Naples. 
 
 Coz. You are, nepbew, 
 As I hear, an excellent horseman, and we 
 
 like it : 
 "Pis a fair grace in a prince. Pray you, make 
 
 trial 
 Of their strength and speed ; and, if you 
 
 think them fit 
 
 For your employment, with a liberal hand 
 Reward the gentleman that did present them 
 From the viceroy of Naples. 
 
 Giov. I will use 
 My best endeavour, sir. 
 Coz. Wait on my nephew. 
 
 {Exeunt Giovanni, Alphonso, 
 Hippolito, and Attendants. 
 Nay, stay you, Contarino : be within call ; 
 It may be we shall use you. 
 
 [Exit Contarino. 
 You have rode hard, sir, 
 And we thank you for it : every minute seems 
 Irksome, and tedious to us, till you have 
 Made your discovery. Say, friend, have you 
 
 seen 
 This phoenix of our age ? 
 
 Sanaz. I have seen a maid, sir ; 
 But, if that I have judgment, no such wonder 
 As she was deliver'd to you. 
 Coz. This is strange. 
 Sanaz. But certain truth. It may be, she 
 
 was look'd on 
 
 With admiration in the country, sir ; 
 But, if compared with many in your court, 
 She would appear but ordinary. 
 
 Coz. Contarino 
 Reports her otherwise. 
 
 Sanaz. Such as ne'er saw swans, 
 May think crows beautiful. 
 Coz. How is her behaviour ? 
 Sanaz. 'Tis like the place she lives in. 
 Coz. How her wit, 
 Discourse, and entertainment ? 
 
 Sanaz. Very coarse ; 
 I would not willingly say poor, and rude : 
 But, had she all the beauties of fair women,. 
 The dullness of her soul would fright me 
 
 from her. 
 
 Coz. You are curious, sir. I know not 
 what to think on't. [Aside. 
 
 Contarino ! 
 
 Rc-cnicr Contarino. 
 
 Cont. Sir. 
 
 Coz. Where was thy judgment, man, 
 To extol a virgin Sanazarro telfs me 
 Is nearer to deformity? 
 
 Sanaz. I saw her, 
 
 And curiously perused her ; and I wonder 
 That she, that did appear to me, that know 
 What beauty is, not worthy the observing, 
 Should so transport you. 
 
 Cont. Troth, my lord, I thought then 
 
 Coz. Thought ! Didst thou not affirm it ? 
 
 Cont. I confess, sir, 
 I did believe so then ; but now, I hear 
 My lord's opinion to the contrary, 
 I am ot another faith : for 'tis not fit 
 That I should contradict him. I am dim, sir ; 
 But he's sharp-sighted. 
 
 Sanaz. This is to my wish. [Aside. 
 
THE GREAT DUKE* OF FLORENCE. 
 
 Coz. We know not what to think of this ; 
 yet would not 
 
 Re-enter Giovanni, Hippolito, and 
 Alphonso. 
 
 Determine rashly of it. [Aside] How do you 
 
 like 
 
 My nephew's horsemanship? 
 'Hip. In my judgment, sir, 
 It is exact and rare. 
 
 IAlph. And, to my fancy, 
 He did present great Alexander mounted 
 On his Bucephalus. 
 
 Coz. You are right courtiers, 
 And know it is your duty to cry up 
 All actions of a prince. 
 
 Sanaz. Do not betray 
 
 Yourself, you're safe ; 1 have done my part. 
 [As/de to Giovanni. 
 Giov. I thank you ; 
 Nor will I fail. 
 
 Coz. What's your opinion, nephew, 
 Of the horses? " 
 
 Giov. Two of them are, in my judgment, 
 The best I ever back'd ; I mean the roan, sir, 
 And the brown bay : but for the chesnut- 
 
 colour'd, 
 
 Though he be full of metal, hot, and fiery, 
 He treads weak in his pasterns. 
 
 Coz. So : come nearer ; 
 I This exercise hath put you into a sweat ; 
 ; Take this and dry it : and now I command you 
 j To tell me truly what's your censure of 
 ' Charomonte's daughter, Lidia. 
 
 Giov. I am, sir, 
 
 A novice in my judgment of a lady ; 
 But such as 'tis, your grace shall have it freely. 
 I would not speak ill of her, and am sorry, 
 If I keep myself a friend to truth, I cannot 
 Report her "as I would, so much I owe 
 Her reverend father ; but I'll give you, sir, 
 As near as I can, her character in little. 
 She's of a goodly stature, and her limbs 
 Not disproportion'd ; for her face, it is 
 Far from deformity ; yet they flatter her, 
 That style it excellent : her manners are 
 Simple and innocent ; but her discourse 
 And wit deserve my pity, more than praise : 
 At the best, my lord, she is a handsome 
 
 picture, 
 And, that said, all is spoken. 
 
 Coz. I believe you : 
 I ne'er yet found you false. 
 
 Giov . Nor ever shall, sir. 
 Forgive me, matchless Lidia! too much love, 
 And jealous fear to lose thee, do compel me, 
 Against my will, my reason, and my know- 
 ledge, 
 To be a poor detractor of that beauty, 
 
 Which fluent Ovid, if he lived again, 
 Would want words to express. [Aside. 
 
 Coz. Pray you, make choice of 
 The richest of our furniture for these horses, 
 [ To Sanazarro. 
 And take my nephew with you ; we in this 
 Will follow his directions. 
 
 Giov. Could I find now 
 The princess Fiorinda, and persuade her 
 To be silent in the suit that I moved to her, 
 All were secure. 
 
 Sanaz. In that, my lord, I'll aid you. 
 
 Coz. We will be private ; leave us. 
 
 [Exeunt all but Cozimo. I 
 All my studies ! 
 
 And serious meditations aim no further 
 Than this young man's good. He was my j 
 
 sister's son, 
 
 And she was such a sister, when she lived, j 
 I could not prize too much ; nor can I better i 
 Make known how dear I hold her memory, j 
 Than in my cherishing the only issue 
 Which she hath left behind her. Who's that ? 
 
 Enter Fiorinda. 
 
 Fior. Sir. 
 
 Coz. My fair charge ! you are welcome to 
 us. 
 
 Fior. I have found it, sir. 
 
 Coz. All things go well in Urbin. 
 
 Fior. Your gracious care to me, an orphan , 
 
 frees me 
 
 From all suspicion that my jealous fears 
 Can drive into my fancy. ' 
 
 Coz. The next summer, 
 In our own person, we will bring you thither, 
 And seat you in your own. 
 
 Fior. When you think fit, sir. 
 But in the meantime, with your highness' 
 
 pardon, 
 I am a suitor to you. 
 
 Coz. Name it, madam, 
 With confidence to obtain it. 
 
 Fior. That you would please 
 To lay a strict command on Charomonte, 
 To bring his daughter Lidia to the court : 
 And pray you, think, sir, that 'tis not my 
 
 purpose 
 
 To employ her as a servant, but to use her 
 As a most wish'd companion. 
 
 Coz. Ha ! your reason ? 
 
 Fior. The hopeful prince, your nephew, 
 
 sir, hath given her 
 
 To me for such an abstract of perfection 
 In all that can be wish'd for in a virgin, 
 As beauty, music, ravishing discourse, 
 Quickness of apprehension, with choice 
 
 manners 
 And learning too, not usual with women, 
 
THE GREAT DUKE OF FLORENCE. 
 
 That I am much ambitious (though I shall 
 Appear but as a foil to set her off) 
 To be by her ir.structed, and supplied 
 In what" I am defective. 
 Coz. Did my nephew 
 -Seriously deliver this ? 
 
 Fior. I assure your grace, 
 With zeal and vehemency ; and, even when, 
 With his best words, he strived to set her 
 
 forth, 
 
 (Though the rare subject made him eloquent,) 
 He would complain, all he could say came 
 
 short 
 Of her deservings. 
 
 Coz. Pray you have patience. 
 
 \\Valks aside. 
 This was strangely carried. Ha ! are we 
 
 trifled with ? 
 
 Dare they do this ? Is Cozimo's fury, that 
 Of late was terrible, grown contemptible ? 
 Well ; we will clear our brows, and under- 
 mine 
 Their secret works, though they have digg'd 
 
 like moles, 
 
 And crush them with the tempest of my wrath 
 When 1 appear most calm. He is unfit 
 To command others, that knows not to use it, 
 And with all rigour : yet my stern looks 
 
 shall not 
 Discover my intents : for I will strike 
 
 When I begin to frown. You are the 
 
 mistress 
 Of that you did demand. 
 
 Fior. I thank your highness ; 
 But speed in the "performance of the grant 
 Doubles the favour, sir. 
 Coz. You shall possess it 
 
 I Sooner than you expect : 
 
 , Only be pleased to be ready when my secre- 
 tary 
 i Waits on you to take the fresh air. My 
 
 nephew, 
 
 And my bosom friend, so to cheat me ! 'tis 
 not lair. {Aside. 
 
 Re-enter Giovanni and Sanazarro. 
 
 Sanaz. Where should this princess be? 
 
 nor in her lodgings, 
 
 Nor in the private walks, her own retreat, 
 Which she so much frequented ! 
 
 Giov. By my life, 
 She's with the duke ! and I much more than 
 
 fear 
 Her forwardness to prefer my suit hath 
 
 ruin'd 
 What with such care we built up. 
 
 Coz. Have you furnish 'd 
 Those coursers, as we will'd you? 
 
 Sanaz. There's no sign 
 Of anger in I. is looks. 
 
 Giov. They are complete, sir. 
 
 Coz. 'Tis well : to your rest. Soft sleeps 
 
 wait on you, madam. 
 To morrow, with the rising of the sun, 
 Be ready to ride with us. They with more 
 
 safety 
 
 Had trod on fork-tongued adders, than pro- 
 voked me. [Aside and exit. 
 
 Fior. I come not to be thank'd, sir, for 
 
 the speedy 
 
 j Performance of my promise touching Lidia : 
 I It is effected. 
 
 Sanaz. We are undone. [Aside. 
 
 Fior. The duke 
 
 No sooner heard me with my best of lan- 
 guage 
 
 Describe her excellencies, as you taught me, 
 But he confirm'd it. You look sad, as if 
 You wish'd it were undone. 
 
 Giov. No, gracious madam, 
 I am your servant for't. 
 
 Fior. Be you as careful 
 For what I moved toyou. Count Sanazarro, 
 Now I perceive you honour me, in vouch- 
 safing 
 To wear so slight a favour. 
 
 Sanaz. 'Tis a grace 
 I am unworthy of. 
 
 Fior. You merit more, 
 In prizing so a trifle. Take this diamond ; 
 I'll second what I have begun ; for know, 
 Your valour hath so won upon me, that 
 'Tis not to be resisted : I have said, sir, 
 And leave you to interpret it. [Exit. 
 
 Sanaz. This to me 
 
 Is wormwood. 'Tis apparent we are taken 
 In our own noose. What's to be done? 
 
 Giov. I know not. 
 
 And 'tis a punishment justly fallen upon me, 
 For leaving truth, a constant mistress, that 
 Ever protects her servants, to become 
 A slave to lies and falsehood. What excuse 
 Can be made to the duke, what mercy hope 
 
 for, 
 Our packing being laid open? 
 
 Sanaz. 'Tis not to 
 
 Be qucstion'd but his purposed journey is 
 To see fair Lidia. 
 
 Giov. And to divert him 
 Impossible. 
 
 Sanaz. There's now no looking backward. 
 
 Giov . And which way to go on with safety, 
 
 not 
 To be imagined. 
 
 Sanaz. Give me leave : I have 
 An embryon in my brain, which, I despair 
 not, 
 
240 
 
 THE GREAT DUKE DF FLORENCE. 
 
 May be brought to form and fashion, pro- j Giov. You must ride post with letters 
 
 vided This night to Lidia. 
 
 You will be open-breasted. 
 
 Giov. 'Tis no time now, 
 Our dangers being equal, to conceal 
 A thought from you. 
 
 Sanaz. What power hold you o'er Lidia? 
 Do you think that, with some hazard of her 
 
 life, 
 She would prevent your ruin ? 
 
 Giov. I presume so : 
 If, in the undertaking it, she stray not 
 
 Cat. An it please your grace, 
 Shall I use my coach, or footcloth mule ? 
 
 Sanaz. You widgeon, 
 
 You are to make all speed ; think not of 
 pomp. 
 
 Giov. Follow for your instructions, sirrah. 
 
 Cal. I have 
 One suit to you, my good lord. 
 
 Sanaz. What is't? 
 
 Cal. That you would give me 
 
 From what becomes her innocence ; and to A subtle court-charm, to defend me from 
 
 that 
 
 Tis far from me to press her : I myself 
 Will rather suffer. 
 
 Sanaz. 'Tis enough ; this night 
 Write to her by your servant Calandrino, 
 As I shall give directions ; my man 
 
 Enter Calandrino, fantastically dressed. 
 
 Shall bear him company. See, sir, to my wish 
 He does appear ; but much transform'd 
 
 from what 
 He was when he came hither. 
 
 Cal. I confess 
 
 I am not very wise, and yet I find 
 A fool, so he be parcel knave* in court 
 May flourish and grow rich. 
 
 Giov. Calandrino. 
 
 Cal. Peace! 
 I am in contemplation. 
 
 Giov. Do not you know me? 
 
 Cal. I tell thee, no ; on forfeit of my place, 
 I must not know myself, much less my father, 
 But by petition ; that petition lined too 
 With golden birds, that sing to the tune of 
 
 profit, 
 Or I am deaf. 
 
 Giov. But you've your sense of feeling. 
 
 [Offering to strike him. 
 
 Sanaz. Nay, pray you, forbear. 
 
 Cal. I have all that's requisite 
 To the making up of a signior : my spruce 
 
 ruff, 
 My hooded cloak, long stocking, and paned 
 
 hose, 
 
 My case of toothpicks, and my silver fork, 
 To convey an olive neatly to my mouth ; 
 And, what is all in all, my pockets ring 
 A golden peal. O that the peasants in the 
 
 country, 
 
 My quondam fellows, but saw me as I am, 
 How they would admire and worship me ! 
 
 Giov. As they shall ; 
 For instantly you must thither. 
 
 Cal. My grand signior, 
 Vouchsafe a beso la manos, and a cringe 
 Of Hie last edition. 
 
 The infectious air of the country. 
 Giov. What's the reason ? 
 Cal. Why, as this court-air taught me 
 
 knavish wit, 
 
 By which I am grown rich, if that again 
 Should turn me fool and honest, vain hopes 
 
 farewell ! 
 For I must die a beggar. 
 
 Sanaz. Go to, sirrah. 
 You'll be whipt for this. 
 
 Giov. Leave fooling, and attend us. 
 
 {Exeunt. 
 
 ACT IV. 
 SCENE I. The Country. A Hall in 
 
 Charomonte's House. 
 Enter Charomonte, and Lidia. 
 Char. Daughter, I have observed, since 
 
 the prince left us, 
 (Whose absence I mourn with you,} and the 
 
 visit 
 
 Count Sanazarro gave us, you have nourish 'd 
 Sad and retired thoughts, and parted with 
 That freedom and alacrity of spirit 
 With which you used to cheer me. 
 
 Lid. For the count, sir, 
 All thought of him does with his person die ; 
 But I confess ingenuously, I cannot 
 So soon forget the choice and chaste delights, 
 The courteous conversation of the prince, 
 And without stain, I hope, afforded me 
 \Vhen he made this house a court. 
 
 Char. It is in us 
 To keep it so without him. Want we kno\v 
 
 not, 
 And all we can complain of, heaven be 
 
 praised for't, 
 Is too much plenty ; and we will make use cf 
 
 Enter Caponi, Bernardo, Petruchio, and 
 other Sen-ants. 
 
 All lawful pleasures. How now, fellows f 
 
 when 
 Shall we have this lusty dance? 
 
THE GREAT DUKE OF FLORENCE. 
 
 2.J I 
 
 Cap. In the afternoon, sir. 
 'Tis a device, I wis, of my own making, 
 And such a one as shall make your signior- 
 
 ship know 
 
 I have not been your butler for nothing, but 
 Have crotchets in my head. We'll trip it 
 
 tightly, 
 And make my sad young mistress merry 
 
 again, 
 Or I'll forswear the cellar. 
 
 Bern. If we had 
 
 Our fellow Calandrino here, to dance 
 His part, we were perfect. 
 
 Pel. O ! he was a rare fellow ; 
 But I fear the court hath spoil'd him. 
 
 Cap. When I was young, 
 I could have cut a caper on a pinnacle : 
 JBut now I'm old and wise. Keep your 
 
 figure fair, 
 
 And follow but the sample I shall set you, 
 The duke himself will send for us, and laugh 
 
 at us ; 
 And that were credit. 
 
 Enter Calandrino. 
 
 Lid. Who have we here? 
 CaL I find 
 | What was brawn in the country, in the court 
 
 grows tender. 
 : The bots on these jolting jades ! I am bruised 
 
 to jelly. 
 
 | A coach for my money ! and that the courte- 
 zans know well ; 
 Their riding so makes them last three years 
 
 longer 
 
 ' Than such as are hacknied. 
 Char. Calandrino ! 'tis he. 
 Cal. Now to my postures. Let my hand 
 
 have the honour 
 
 ; To convey a kiss from my lips to the cover of 
 i Tour foot, dear signior. 
 
 Char. Fie ! you stoop too low, sir. 
 
 Cal. The hem of your vestment, lady : 
 
 your glove is for princes ; 
 ; Nay, I have conn'd my distances. 
 Lid. 'Tis most courtly. 
 Cap. Fellow Calandrino ! 
 CaL Signior de Caponi, 
 Grand botelier of the mansion. 
 Bern. How is't, man? 
 
 [Claps him on the shoulder. 
 Cal. Be not so rustic in your salutations, 
 I Signior Bernardo, master of the accounts. 
 j Signior Petruchio, may you long continue 
 | Your function in the chamber ! 
 
 Cap. When shall we learn 
 j Such gambols in our villa? 
 Lid. Sure he's mad. 
 
 Char. 'Tis not unlike, for most of such 
 
 mushrooms are so. 
 What news at court ? 
 
 Cal. Basta! they are mysteries, 
 And not to be reveal'd. With your favour, 
 
 signior ; 
 
 I am, in private, to confer awhile 
 With this signora : but I'll pawn my honour, 
 That neither my terse language, nor my habit, 
 Howe'erit may convince, nor mynewshrugs, 
 Shall render her enamour'd. 
 
 Char. Take your pleasure ; 
 A little of these apish tricks may pass, 
 Too much is tedious. {Exit. 
 
 Cal. The prince, in this paper, 
 Presents his service. Nay, it is not courtly 
 To see the seal broke open ; so I leave you. 
 Signiors of the villa, I'll descend to be 
 Familiar with you. 
 
 Cap. Have you forgot to dance ? 
 
 Cal. No, I am better'd. 
 
 Pet. Will you join with us ? 
 
 Cal. As I like the project. 
 Let me warm my brains first with the richest 
 
 grape, 
 And then I'm for you. 
 
 Cap. We will want no wine. 
 
 [Exeunt all but Lidia. 
 
 Lid. That this comes only from the best 
 
 of princes, 
 
 With a kind of adoration does command me 
 To entertain it ; and the sweet contents 
 
 [Kissing the letter. 
 That are inscribed here by his hand must be 
 Much more than musical tome. All the service 
 Of my life at no part can deserve this favour. 
 O what a virgin longing I feel on me 
 To unrip the seal, and read it ! yet, to break 
 What he hath fastened, rashly, may appear 
 A saucy rudeness in me. I must do it, 
 (Nor can I else learn his commands, or serve 
 
 them,) 
 
 But with such reverence, as I would open 
 Some holy writ, whose grave instructions 
 
 beat down 
 
 Rebellious sins, and teach my better part 
 How to mount upward. So, [opens the 
 
 letter} 'tis done, and I 
 With eagle's eyes will curiously peruse it. 
 
 [Reads. 
 
 Chaste Lidia, the favours are so great 
 
 On me by you conferrd, that to entreat 
 
 The least addition to them, in true sense 
 
 May argue me ofblushless impudence. 
 
 But, such are my extremes, if you deny 
 
 A further grace, I must unpitied die. 
 
 Haste cuts ojf circumstance. As you're ad- 
 mired 
 
 For beauty, the report of it haihfrred 
 R 
 
242 
 
 THE GREAT DUKE OF FLORENCE. 
 
 The duke my uncle, and, I fear, you'll 
 
 prove, 
 
 Not with a sacred, but unlawful love. 
 If he see you as you are, my hoped for light 
 Is changed into an everlasting night ; 
 HOVJ to prevent it, if your goodness find, 
 You save two lives, and me you ever bind, 
 The honourer of your virtues, 
 GIOVANNI. 
 
 Were I more deaf than adders, these sweet 
 
 charms 
 Would through my ears find passage to my 
 
 soul, 
 
 And soon enchant it. To save such a prince, 
 Who would not perish ? virtue in him must 
 
 suffer, 
 
 And piety be forgotten. The duke's lust, 
 j Though it raged more than Tarquin's, shall 
 
 not reach me. 
 
 \ All quaint inventions of chaste virgins aid me ! 
 , My prayers are heard ; I have't. The duke 
 
 ne'er saw me 
 
 Or, if that fail, I am again provided 
 But for the sen-ants ! They will take what 
 
 form 
 
 , I please to put upon them. Giovanni, 
 
 Be safe ; thy servant Lidia assures it. 
 
 ' Let mountains of afflictions fall on me, 
 
 Their weight is easy, so I set thee free. 
 
 \Exit. 
 
 SCENE II. Another Room in the same. 
 Enter Cozimo, Giovanni, Sanazarro, 
 
 Charomonte, and Attendants. 
 Sanaz. Are you not tired with travel, sir ? 
 Coz. No, no ; 
 I am fresh and lusty. 
 
 Char. This day shall be ever 
 i A holiday to me, that brings my prince 
 Under my humble roof. [ Weeps. 
 
 Gioi 1 . See, sir, my good tutor 
 , Sheds tears for joy. 
 
 Coz. Dry them up, Charomonte ; 
 And all forbear the room, while we exchange 
 Some private words together. 
 
 Giov. O, my lord, 
 
 Hovr grossly have we overshot ourselves ! 
 Sanaz. In what, sir ? 
 Giov. In forgetting to acquaint 
 My guardian with our purpose : all that Lidia 
 Can do avails us nothing, if the duke 
 Find out the truth from him. 
 Sanaz. 'Tis now past help, 
 And we must stand the hazard : hope the 
 best, sir. 
 
 [Exeunt Giovanni, Sanazarro, and 
 
 Attendants. 
 Char. My loyalty doubted, sir ! 
 
 Coz. 'Tis more. Thou hast 
 Abused our trust, and in a high degree 
 Committed treason. 
 
 Char. Treason ! 'Tis a word 
 My innocence understands not. Were my 
 
 breast 
 Transparent, and my thoughts to be dis- 
 
 cern'd, 
 Not one spot shall be found to taint the 
 
 candour 
 
 Of my allegiance : and I must be bold 
 To tell you, sir, (for he that knows no guilt 
 Can know no fear, ) 'tis tyranny to o'ercharge 
 An honest man ; and such, till now, I've 
 
 lived, 
 And such, my lord, I'll die. 
 
 Coz. Sir, do not flatter 
 Yourself with hope, these great and glo- 
 rious words, 
 
 Which every guilty wretch, as well as you, 
 That's arm'd with impudence, can with ease 
 
 deliver, 
 
 And with as full a mouth, can work on us : 
 Nor shall gay flourishes of language clear 
 What is in fact apparent. 
 
 Char. Fact! what fact? 
 You, that know only what it is, instruct me, 
 For I am ignorant. 
 
 Coz. This, then, sir : We gave up, 
 On our assurance of your faith and care, 
 Our nephew Giovanni, nay, our heir 
 In expectation, to be train'd up by you 
 As did become a prince. 
 
 Char. And I discharg'd it : 
 Is this the treason ? 
 
 Coz. Take us with you, sir. 
 And, in respect we knew his youth was prone 
 To women, and that, living in our court, 
 He might make some unworthy choice, 
 
 before 
 
 His weaker judgment was confirm'd, we did 
 Remove him from it ; constantly presuming, 
 You, with your best endeavours, 'rather would 
 Have quench'd those heats in him, than 
 
 light a torch, 
 As you have done, to his looseness. 
 
 Char. I ! my travail 
 Is ill-requited, sir ; for, by my soul, 
 I was so curious that way, that I granted 
 Access to none could tempt him ; nor did 
 
 ever 
 
 One syllable, or obscene accent, touch 
 His ear, that might corrupt him. 
 
 Coz. No ! Why, then, 
 With your allowance, did you give free way 
 To all familiar privacy between 
 My nephew and your daughter ? Or win- 
 did you 
 (Had you no other ends in'tbut our service) 
 
THE GREAT DUKE OF FLORENCE. 
 
 243 
 
 Read to them, and together, as they had 
 
 been 
 
 Scholars of one form, grammar, rhetoric, 
 Philosophy, story, and interpret to them 
 The close temptations of lascivious poets ? 
 Or wherefore, for we still had spies upon you, 
 Was she still present, when, by your advice, 
 He was taught the use of his weapon, horse- 
 manship, 
 
 Wrestling, nay, swimming, but to fan in her 
 A hot desire of him ? and then, forsooth, 
 His exercises ended, cover'd with 
 A fair pretence of recreation for him, 
 (When Lidia was instructed in those graces 
 That add to beauty,) he, brought to admire 
 
 her, 
 Must hear her sing, while to her voice her 
 
 hand 
 Made ravishing music ; and, this applauded, 
 
 dance 
 A light lavolta with her. 
 
 Char. Have you ended 
 All you can charge me with ? 
 Coz. Nor stopt you there, 
 But they must unattended walk into 
 The silent groves, and hear the amorous 
 
 birds 
 Warbling their wanton notes ; here, a sure 
 
 shade 
 
 Of barren sicamores, which the all-seeing sun 
 Could not pierce through ; near that, an 
 
 arbour hung 
 With spreading eglantine ; there, a bubbling 
 
 spring 
 
 Watering a bank of hyacinths and lilies ; 
 With all allurements that could move to lust. 
 And could this, Charomonte, (should I grant 
 They had been equals both in birth and 
 
 fortune,) 
 
 Become your gravity ? nay, 'tis clear as air, 
 That your ambitious hopes to match your 
 
 daughter 
 
 Into our family, gave connivance to it : 
 And this, though not in act, in the intent 
 I call high treason. 
 
 Char. Hear my just defence, sir ; 
 And, though you are my prince, it will not 
 
 take from 
 
 Your greatness, to acknowledge with a blush, 
 In this my accusation you have been 
 More sway'd by spleen, and jealous suppo- 
 sitions, 
 Than certain grounds of reason. You had 
 
 a father, 
 (Blest be his memory !) that made frequent 
 
 proofs 
 
 Of my loyalty and faith, and, would I boast 
 The dangers I have broke through in his 
 
 service, 
 
 I could say more. Nay, you yourself, dread 
 
 sir, 
 
 Whenever I was put unto the test, 
 Found me true gold, and not adulterate 
 
 metal ; 
 And am I doubted now ? 
 
 Coz. This is from the purpose. 
 
 Char. I will come to it, sir : Your grace 
 
 well knew, 
 
 Before the prince's happy presence made 
 My poor house rich, the chiefest blessing 
 
 which 
 
 I gloried in, though now it prove a curse, 
 Was an only daughter. Nor did you com- 
 mand me, 
 
 As a security to your future fears, 
 To cast her off : which had you done, 
 
 howe'er 
 
 She was the light of my eyes, and comfort of 
 My feeble age, so far I prized my duty 
 Above affection, she now had been 
 A stranger to my care. But she is fair ! 
 Is that her fault, or mine ? Did ever father 
 Hold beauty in his issue' for a blemish ? 
 Her education and her manners tempt too ! 
 If these offend, they are easily removed : 
 You may, if you think fit, before my face, 
 In recompense of all my watchings for you, 
 With burning corrosives transform her to 
 An ugly leper ; and, this done, to taint 
 Her sweetness, prostitute her to a brothel. 
 This I will rather suffer, sir, and more, 
 Than live suspected by you. 
 
 Coz. Let not passion 
 Carry you beyond your reason. 
 
 Char. I am calm, sir ; 
 Yet you must give me leave to grieve I find 
 My actions misinterpreted. Alas ! sir, 
 Was Lidia's desire to serve the prince 
 Call'd an offence ? or did she practise to 
 Seduce his youth, because with her best zeal 
 And fervour she endeavoured to attend him ? 
 "Tis a hard construction. Though she be 
 
 my daughter, 
 
 I may thus far speak her : from her infancy 
 She was ever civil, her behaviour nearer 
 Simplicity than craft ; and malice dares not 
 Affirm, in one loosegesture, or light language, 
 She gave a sign she was in thought unchaste. 
 I'll fetch her to you, sir ; and but look on her 
 With equal eyes, you must in justice grant 
 That your suspicion wrongs her. 
 
 Coz. It may be ; 
 
 But I must have stronger assurance of it 
 Than passionate words : and, not to trifle. 
 
 time, 
 
 As we came unexpected to your house, 
 We will prevent all means that may pre-f 
 
 pare her 
 
244 
 
 THE GREAT DUKE OF FLORENCE. 
 
 How to answer that, with which we come to 
 
 charge her. 
 
 And howsoever it may be received 
 As a foul breach to hospitable rites, 
 On thy allegiance and boasted faith, 
 Nay, forfeit of thy head, we do confine thee 
 Close prisoner to thy chamber, till all doubts 
 Are clear'd, that do concern us. 
 
 Char. I obey, sir, 
 
 And wish your 'grace had followed my hearse 
 To my sepulchre, my loyalty unsuspected, 
 Rather than now tjut I am silent, sir, 
 And let that speak my duty. [Exit. 
 
 Coz. If this man 
 
 Be false, disguised treachery ne'er put on 
 A shape so near to truth. Within, there ! 
 
 Re-enter Giovanni and Sanazarro, ushering 
 in Petronella. Calandrino and others 
 setting forth a banquet. 
 
 Sanaz. Sir. 
 
 Coz. Bring Lidia forth. 
 Giov. She comes, sir, of herself, 
 To present her sen-ice to you. 
 
 Coz. Ha ! this personage 
 Cannot invite affection. 
 Sanaz. See you keep state. 
 Petron. I warrant you. 
 Coz. The manners of her mind 
 Must be transcendent, if they can defend 
 Her rougher outside. May we with your 
 
 liking 
 Salute you, lady ? 
 
 Petron. Let me wipe my mouth, sir, 
 With my cambric handkerchief, and then 
 
 have at you. 
 
 Coz. Can this be possible ? 
 Sanaz. Yes, sir ; you will find her 
 Such as I gave her to you. 
 
 Petron. Will your dukeship 
 Sit down and eat some sugar-plums? Here's 
 
 a castle 
 
 Of march-pane too ; and this quince-mar- 
 malade was 
 
 Of my own making ; all summ'd up together, 
 Did cost the setting on : and here is wine too, 
 As good as e'er was tapp'd. I'll be your 
 
 taster, 
 For I know the fashion. [Drinks all off. 
 
 Now you must do me right, sir ; 
 You shall nor will nor choose. 
 Giov. She's very simple. 
 Coz. Simple ! 'tis worse. Do you drink 
 
 thus often, lady? 
 Petron. Still when I am thirsty, and eat 
 
 when I am hungry : 
 Such junkets come not every day. Once 
 
 more to you, 
 With a heart and a half, i 'faith. 
 
 Coz. Pray you, pause a little ; 
 If I hold your cards, I shall pull down the 
 
 side ; 
 I am not good at the game, 
 
 Petron. Then I'll drink for you. 
 
 Coz. Nay, pray you stay : I'll find you out 
 
 a pledge 
 
 That shall supply myplace ; what think you of 
 This complete signior ? You are a Juno, 
 And in such state must feast this Jupiter : 
 What think you of him ? 
 
 Petron. I desire no better. 
 
 Coz. And you will undertake this service 
 
 for me ? 
 You are good at the sport. 
 
 Cal. Who, I ? a piddler, sir. 
 
 Coz. Nay, you shall sit enthroned, and 
 
 drink 
 As you were a duke. 
 
 Cal. If your grace will have me, 
 I'll eat and drink like an emperor. 
 
 Coz. Take your place then : 
 
 [Calandrino takes the Duke's chair. 
 We are amazed. 
 
 Giov. This is gross : nor can the imposture 
 But be discover'd. 
 
 Sanaz. The duke is too sharp-sighted, 
 To be deluded thus. 
 
 Cal. Nay, pray you eat fair, 
 Or divide, and I will choose. Cannot you use 
 Your fork, as I do ? Gape, and I will feed 
 you. [Feeds her. 
 
 Gape wider yet ; this is court-like. 
 
 Petron. To choke daws with : 
 
 I like it not. 
 
 Cal. But you like this ? 
 
 Petron. Let it come, boy. {They drink. 
 
 Coz. What a sight is this ! We could be 
 
 angry with you. 
 
 How much you did belie her when you told us 
 She was only simple ! this is barbarous rude- 
 ness, 
 Beyond belief. 
 
 Giov. I would not speak her, sir, 
 Worse than she was. 
 
 Sanaz. And I, my lord, chose rather 
 To deliver her better parted than she is, 
 Than to take from her. 
 
 Enter Caponi, with his fellow Servants for 
 the dance. 
 
 Cap. Ere I'll lose my dance, 
 I'll speak to the purpose. I am, sir, no 
 
 prologue ; 
 But in plain terms must tell you, we are 
 
 provided 
 Of a lusty hornpipe. 
 
 Coz. Prithee, let us have it, 
 For we grow dull. 
 
THE GREAT DUKE OF FLORENCE. 
 
 245 
 
 Cap. But to make up the medley, 
 For it is of several colours, \ve must borrow 
 Your grace's ghost here. 
 
 Cal. Pray you, sir, depose me ; 
 It will not do else. I am, sir, the engine 
 
 [Rises, and resigns his chair. 
 By which it moves. 
 
 Pctron. I will dance with my duke too; 
 I will not out. 
 
 Coz. Begin then. [They dance. ~\ There's 
 
 more in this, 
 
 Than yet I have discover'd. Some CEdipus 
 Resolve this riddle. 
 
 Petron. Did I not foot it roundly. [Falls. 
 Cos. As I live, stark drunk ! away with her. 
 We'll reward you, 
 
 [Exeunt Servants with Petronella. 
 When you have cool'd yourselves in the cellar. 
 Cap. Heaven preserve you ! 
 Coz. We pity Charomonte's wretched 
 
 fortune 
 In a daughter, nay, a monster. Good old 
 
 man ! 
 
 The place grows tedious ; our remove shall be 
 With speed : we'll only, in a word or two, 
 Take leave, and comfort him. 
 
 Sanaz. 'Twill rather, sir, 
 Increase your sorrow, that you know his 
 
 shame ; 
 Your grace may do it by letter. 
 
 Coz. W T ho sign'd you 
 A patent to direct us ? Wait our coming 
 In the garden. 
 Giov. All will out. 
 Sanaz. I more than fear it. 
 
 [Exeunt Giovanni and Sanazarro. 
 QOZ. These are strange chimeras to us : 
 
 what to judge oft, 
 
 Is past our apprehension. One command 
 Charomonte to attend us. 
 
 [Exit an Attendant. 
 
 Can it be 
 
 That Contarino could be so besotted, 
 As to admire this prodigy ! or her father 
 To doat upon it ! Or does she personate, 
 For some ends unknown to us, this rude be- 
 haviour, 
 
 Which, in the scene presented, would appear 
 Ridiculous and impossible ! O, you are 
 welcome. 
 
 Enter Charomonte. 
 
 We now acknowledge the much wrong we 
 
 did you 
 
 In our unjust suspicion. We have seen 
 The wonder, sir, your daughter. 
 
 Char. And have found her 
 Such as I did report her. What she wanted 
 
 In courtship, was, I hope, supplied in civil 
 And modest entertainment. 
 
 Coz. Pray you, tell us, 
 And truly, we command you Did you never 
 Observe she was given to drink ? 
 
 Char. To drink, sir ! 
 
 Coz. Yes, nay more, to be drunk ? 
 
 Char. I had rather see her buried. 
 
 Coz. Dare you trust your own eyes, if you' 
 
 find her now 
 More than distemper'd ? 
 
 Char. I will pull them out, sir, 
 If your grace can make this good. And if 
 
 'you please 
 
 To grant me liberty, as she is I'll fetch her, 
 And in a moment. 
 
 Coz. Look you do, and fail not, 
 On the peril of your head. 
 
 Char. Drunk ! She disdains it. [Exit. 
 
 Coz. Such contrarieties were never read of, 
 Charomonte is no fool ; nor can I think 
 His confidence built onsand. Weareabused, 
 'Tis too apparent. 
 
 Re-enter Charomonte with Lidia. 
 
 Lid. I am indisposed, sir : 
 And that life you once tender'd, much en^ 
 
 danger'd 
 In forcing me from my chamber. 
 
 Char. Here she is, sir : 
 Suddenly sick, I grant ; but, sure, not drunk: 
 Speak to my lord the duke. 
 
 Lid. All is discover'd. [Kneels, 
 
 Coz. Is this your only daughter ? 
 
 Char. And my heir, sir ; 
 Nor keep I any woman in my house 
 (Unless for sordid offices) but one 
 I do maintain, trimm'd up in her cast habits, 
 To make her sport : and she, indeed, loves 
 
 wine, 
 And will take too rmich of it ; and, perhaps, 
 
 for mirth, 
 She was presented to you. 
 
 Coz. It shall yield 
 
 No sport to the contrivers. 'Tis too plain now. 
 Her presence does confirm what Contarino 
 Deliver'd of her ; nor can sickness dim 
 The splendour of her beauties : being her-' 
 
 self, then, 
 She must exceed his praise. 
 
 Lid. Will your grace hear me ? 
 I'm faint, and can say little. 
 
 Cos. Here are accents 
 Whose every syllable is musical ! 
 Pray you, let me raise you, and awhile rest 
 
 here. 
 
 False Sanazarro, treacherous Giovanni ! 
 But stand we talking ! 
 
 Char. Here's a storm soon raised. 
 
246 
 
 THE GREAT DUKE OF FLORENCE. 
 
 Coz. As thou art our subject, Charomonte, 
 
 swear 
 To act what we command. 
 
 Char. That is an oath 
 I long since took. 
 
 Coz. Then, by that oath we charge thee, 
 Without excuse, denial, or delay, 
 1 o apprehend, and suddenly, Sanazarro, 
 
 And our ingrateful nephew. We have 
 
 said it. 
 
 Do it without reply, or we pronounce thee, 
 Like them, a traitor to us. See them guarded 
 In several lodgings, and forbid access 
 
 To all, but when we warrant. Is our will 
 1 Heard sooner than obey'd ? 
 
 Char. These are strange turns ; 
 But I must not dispute them. [Exit. 
 
 Coz. Be severe in't. 
 O my abused lenity ! from what height 
 Is my power fall'n ! 
 
 Lid. O me most miserable ! 
 That, being innocent, makes others guilty. 
 
 Most gracious prince 
 
 Coz. Pray you rise, and then speak to me. 
 Lid. My knees shall first be rooted in this 
 
 earth, 
 
 And, Myrrha-like, I'll grow up to a tree, 
 Dropping perpetual tears of sorrow, which 
 Harden 'd by the rough wind, and turn'd to 
 
 amber, 
 
 Unfortunate virgins like myself shall wear ; 
 Before I'll make petition to your greatness, 
 But with such reverence, my hands held up 
 
 thus, 
 
 As I would do to heaven. You princes are 
 As gods on earth to us, and to be. sued to 
 With such humility, as his deputies 
 May challenge from their vassals. 
 
 Coz. Here's that form 
 
 ; Of language I expected ; pray you, speak : 
 \\*hat is your suit ? 
 
 Lid. That you would look upon me 
 As an humble thing, that millions of degrees 
 Is placed beneath you : for what am I, dread 
 
 sir. 
 Or what can fall in the whole course of my 
 
 life, 
 That may be worth your care, much less 
 
 your trouble ? 
 
 As the lowly shrub is to the lofty cedar, 
 Or a molehill to Olympus, if compared, 
 I am to you, sir. Or, suppose the prince, 
 (Which cannot find belief in me, ) forgetting 
 The greatness of his birth and hopes, hath 
 
 thrown 
 
 An eye of favour on me, in me punish, 
 That am the cause, the rashness of his youth. 
 Shall the queen of the inhabitants of the air, 
 The eagle, that bears thunder on her wings, 
 
 [n her angry mood destroy her hopeful young, 
 For suffering a wren to perch too near them? 
 Such is our disproportion. 
 Coz. With what fervour 
 She pleads against herself ! 
 Lid. For me, poor maid, 
 I know the prince to be so far above me, 
 That my wishes cannot reach him. Yet I am 
 5o much his creature, that, to fix him in 
 Your wonted grace and favour, I'll abjure 
 His sight for ever, and betake myself 
 To a religious life, (where in my prayers 
 I may remember him,) and ne'er see man 
 
 more, 
 But my ghostly father. W r ill you trust me, 
 
 sir? 
 
 In truth I'll keep my word ; or, if this fail, 
 A little more of fear what may befall him 
 Will stop my breath for ever.' 
 
 Coz. Had you thus argued {Raises her. 
 As you were yourself, and brought as advo- 
 cates 
 
 Your health and beauty, to make way for you, 
 Xo crime of his could put on such a shape 
 But I should look with the eyes of mercy on it. 
 What would I give to see this diamond 
 In her perfect lustre, as she was before 
 The clouds of sickness dimm'd it ! Yet, 
 
 take comfort ; 
 And, as you would obtain remission for 
 His treachery to me, cheer your drooping 
 
 spirits, 
 
 And call the blood again into your cheeks, 
 And then plead for him ; and in such a habit 
 As in your highest hopes you would put on, 
 If we were to receive you for our bride. 
 Lid. I'll do my best, sir. 
 Coz. And that best will be 
 A crown of all felicity to me. [Exeunt. 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 SCENE I. The same. An upper Chamber 
 in Charomonte's House. 
 
 Enter Sanazarro. 
 Sanaz. 'Tis proved in me : the curse of 
 
 human frailty, 
 
 Adding to our afflictions, makes us know 
 What's good ; and yet our violent passions 
 
 force us 
 
 To follow what is ill. Reason assured me 
 It was not safe to shave a lion's skin ; 
 And that to trifle with a sovereign was 
 To play with lightning : yet imperious beauty, 
 Treading upon the neck of understanding, 
 Compell'd me to put off my natural shape 
 Of loyal duty, to disguise myself 
 In the adulterate and cobweb-mask 
 
THE GREAT DUKE OF FLORENCE. 
 
 247 
 
 Of disobedient treachery. Where is now 
 My borrow'd greatness, or the promised lives 
 Of following courtiers echoing my will? 
 In a moment vanish'd ! Power that stands 
 
 not on 
 
 Its proper base, which is peculiar only 
 To absolute princes, falls or rises with 
 Their frown or favour. The great duke, 
 
 my master, 
 
 (Who almost changed me to his other self, ) 
 No sooner takes his beams of comfort from 
 
 me, 
 
 But I, as one unknown, or unregarded, 
 | Unpitied suffer. Who makes intercession 
 ! To his mercy for me, now? who does re- 
 member 
 
 The service I have done him? not a man : 
 And such as spake no language but my lord 
 ' The favourite of Tuscany 's grand duke, 
 Deride my madness. Ha ! what noise of 
 
 horses ? 
 
 \He looks out at the back wind<nu. 
 A goodly troop ! This back part of my prison 
 Allows me liberty to see and know them. 
 Contarino ! yes, 'tis he, and Lodovico : 
 And the dutchess Fiorinda, Urbin's heir, 
 A princess I have slighted : yet I wear 
 Her favours ; and, to teach me what I am, 
 She who.n I scorn'd can only mediate for me. 
 This way she makes, yet speak to her I dare 
 
 not : 
 
 And how to make suit to her is a task 
 Of as much difficulty. Yes, thou blessed 
 
 pledge [Takes off the ring. 
 
 Of her affection, aid me ! This supplies 
 The want of pen and ink ; and this, of paper. 
 [ Takes a pane of glass. 
 It must be so ; and I in my petition 
 Concise and pithy. 
 
 SCENE II. The Court before Charo- 
 monte's Hotise. 
 
 Enter Contarino leading in Fiorinda, Al- 
 phonso, Hippolito, Hieronimo, andCalz- 
 minta. 
 
 Fior. Tis a goodly pile, this. 
 
 Hier. But better by the owner. 
 
 Alph. But most rich 
 In the great states it covers. 
 
 Fior. The duke's pleasure 
 Commands us hither. 
 
 Cont. Which was laid on us 
 To attend you to it. 
 
 Hip. Signior Charomonte, 
 To see your excellence his guest, will think 
 Himself most happy. 
 
 Fior.. lit my shoe. {The pane falls 
 down.'} What's that ? 
 
 A pane thrown from the window, no wind 
 
 stirring ! 
 Calam. And at your feet too fall'n : 
 
 there's something writ on't. 
 Cont. Some courtier, belike, would have 
 
 it known 
 He wore a diamond. 
 
 Calam. Ha ! it is directed 
 To the princess Fiorinda. 
 Fior. We will read it. 'Reads. 
 
 He, whom you pleased to favour, is cast down 
 Past hope of rising, by the- great duke s frown, 
 If, by your gracious means, he cannot have 
 A pardon ; and that got, lie lives your slave. 
 Of men the most distressed, 
 
 SANAZARRO. 
 
 Of me the most beloved ; and I will save thee, 
 Or perish with thee. Sure, thy fault must be 
 Of some prodigious shape, if that my prayers 
 And humble intercession to the duke 
 
 Enter Cozimo and Charomonte. 
 
 Prevail not with him. Here he comes ; delay 
 Shall not make less my benefit. 
 
 Coz. What we purpose 
 Shall know no change, and therefore move 
 
 me not : 
 We were made as properties, and what we 
 
 shall 
 
 Determine of them cannot be call'd rigour, 
 But noble justice. When they proved disloyal, 
 They were cruel to themselves. The prince 
 
 that pardons 
 
 The first affront offer 'd to majesty, 
 Invites a second, rendering that power 
 Subjects should tremble at, contemptible. 
 Ingratitude is a monster, Carolo, 
 To be strangled in the birth, not to be 
 
 cherish 'd. 
 Madam, you're happily met with. 
 
 Fior. Sir, I am 
 
 An humble suitor to you ; and the rather 
 Am confident of a grant, in that your grace, 
 When I made choice to be at your devotion, 
 Vow'd to deny me nothing. 
 
 Coz. To this minute 
 We have confirm'd it. What's your boon? 
 
 Fior. It is, sir, 
 
 That you, in being gracious to your servant, 
 The ne'er sufficiently praised Sanazarro, 
 That now under your heavy displeasure 
 
 suffers, 
 
 Would be good unto yourself. His services, 
 So many, and so great, (your storm of fury 
 Calm'd by your better judgment,) must in- 
 form you 
 
 Some little slip, for sure it is no more, 
 From his loyal duty, with your justice cannot 
 
246 
 
 THE GREAT DUKE OF FLORENCE. 
 
 Coz. As thou art our subject, Charomonte, 
 
 swear 
 To act what we command. 
 
 Char. That is an oath 
 I long since took. 
 
 Coz. Then, by that oath we charge thee, 
 Without excuse, denial, or delay, 
 To apprehend, and suddenly, Sanazarro, 
 And our ingrateful nephew. We have 
 
 said it. 
 
 Do it without reply, or we pronounce thee, 
 i Like them, a traitor to us. See them guarded 
 In several lodgings, and forbid access 
 
 To all, but when we warrant. Is our will 
 1 Heard sooner than obey'd ? 
 
 Char. These are strange turns ; 
 But I must not dispute them. {Exit. 
 
 Coz. Be severe in't. 
 
 O my abused lenity ! from what height 
 Is my power fall'n ! 
 
 Lid. O me most miserable ! 
 ' That, being innocent, makes others guilty. 
 
 Most gracious prince 
 
 ' Coz. Pray you rise, and then speak to me. 
 Lid. My knees shall first be rooted in this 
 
 earth, 
 
 ' And, Myrrha-like, I'll grow up to a tree, 
 Dropping perpetual tears of sorrow, which 
 Harden 'd by the rough wind, and turn'd to 
 
 amber, 
 
 Unfortunate virgins like myself shall wear ; 
 Before I'll make petition to your greatness, 
 But with such reverence, my hands held up 
 
 thus, 
 
 As I would do to heaven. You princes are 
 As gods on earth to us, and to be, sued to 
 With such humility, as his deputies 
 May challenge from their vassals. 
 
 Coz. Here's that form 
 Of language I expected ; pray you, speak : 
 What is your suit ? 
 
 Lid. That you would look upon me 
 As an humble thing, that millions of degrees 
 Is placed beneath you : for what am I, dread 
 
 sir, 
 Or what can fall in the whole course of my 
 
 life, 
 That may be worth your care, much less 
 
 your trouble ? 
 
 As the lowly shrub is to the lofty cedar, 
 Or a molehill to Olympus, if compared, 
 I am to you, sir. Or, suppose the prince, 
 (Which cannot find belief in me,) forgetting 
 The greatness of his birth and hopes, hath 
 
 thrown 
 
 An eye of favour on me, in me punish, 
 That am the cause, the rashness of his youth 
 Shall the queen of the inhabitants of the air, 
 The eagle, that bears thunder on her wings, 
 
 n her angry mood destroy her hopeful young, 
 For suffering a wren to perch too near them? 
 Such is our disproportion. 
 Coz. With what fervour 
 She pleads against herself ! 
 Lid. For me, poor maid, 
 I know the prince to be so far above me, 
 That my wishes cannot reach him. Yet I am 
 So much his creature, that, to fix him in 
 Your wonted grace and favour, I'll abjure 
 His sight for ever, and betake myself 
 To a religious life, (where in my prayers 
 I may remember him,) and ne'er see man 
 
 more, 
 But my ghostly father. Will you trust me, j 
 
 sir? 
 
 In truth I'll keep my word ; or, if this fail, j 
 A little more of fear what may befall him 
 Will stop my breath for ever. 
 
 Coz. Had you thus argued {Raises her. \ 
 As you were yourself, and brought as advo- \ 
 
 cates 
 
 Your health and beauty, to make way for you, , 
 No crime of his could put on such a shape j 
 But I should look with the eyes of mercy on it. 
 What would I give to see this diamond 
 In her perfect lustre, as she was before 
 The clouds of sickness dimm'd it ! Yet, 
 
 take comfort ; 
 And, as you would obtain remission for 
 His treachery to me, cheer your drooping 
 
 spirits, 
 
 And call the blood again into your cheeks, 
 And then plead for him ; and in such a habit 
 As in your highest hopes you would put on, 
 If we were to receive you for our bride. 
 Lid. I'll do my best, sir. 
 Coz. And that best will be 
 A crown of all felicity to me. {Exeunt. 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 SCENE I. The same. An upper Chamber 
 in Charomonte's House. 
 
 Enter Sanazarro. 
 Sanaz. Tis proved in me : the curse of 
 
 human frailty, 
 
 Adding to our afflictions, makes us know 
 What's good ; and yet our violent passions 
 
 force us 
 
 To follow what is ill. Reason assured me 
 It was not safe to shave a lion's skin ; 
 And that to trifle with a sovereign was 
 To play with lightning : yet imperious beauty, 
 Treading upon the neck of understanding, 
 Compell'd me to put off my natural shape 
 Of loyal duty, to disguise myself 
 In the adulterate and cobweb-mask 
 
THE GREAT DUKE OF FLORENCE. 
 
 247 
 
 Of disobedient treachery. Where is now 
 My borrow' d greatness, or the promised lives 
 Of following courtiers echoing my will ? 
 In a moment vanish'd ! Power that stands 
 
 not on 
 
 Its proper base, which is peculiar only 
 To absolute princes, falls or rises with 
 Their frown or favour. The great duke, 
 
 my master, 
 
 (Who almost changed me to his other self, ) 
 No sooner takes his beams of comfort from 
 
 me, 
 
 But I, as one unknown, or unregarded, 
 Unpitied suffer. Who makes intercession 
 To his mercy for me, now? who does re- 
 member 
 
 The service I have done him ? not a man : 
 And such as spake no language but my lord 
 The favourite of Tuscany 's grand duke, 
 Deride my madness. Ha ! what noise of 
 
 horses ? 
 
 [He looks out at the back window. 
 A goodly troop ! This back part of my prison 
 Allows me liberty to see and know them. 
 Contarino ! yes, 'tis he, and Lodovico : 
 And the dutchess Fiorinda, Urbin's heir, 
 A princess I have slighted : yet I wear 
 Her favours ; and, to teach me what I am, 
 She who.n I scorn'd can only mediate for me. 
 This way she makes, yet speak to her I dare 
 
 not : 
 
 : And how to make suit to her is a task 
 Of as much difficulty. Yes, thou blessed 
 
 pledge [Takes off the ring. 
 
 Of her affection, aid me ! This supplies 
 The want of pen and ink ; and this, of paper. 
 [Takes a pane of glass. 
 It must be so ; and I in my petition 
 , Concise and pithy. 
 
 SCENE II. The Court before Charo- 
 monte's House. 
 
 Enter Contarino leading in Fiorinda, Al- 
 phonso, Hippolito, Hieronimo, andCala.- 
 minta. 
 
 Fior. Tis a goodly pile, this. 
 
 Hier. But better by the owner. 
 
 Alph. But most rich 
 In the great states it covers. 
 
 Fior. The duke's pleasure 
 Commands us hither. 
 
 Cont. Which was laid on us 
 To attend you to it. 
 
 Hip. Signior Charomonte, 
 To see your excellence his guest, will think 
 Himself most happy. 
 
 Fior. Tie my shoe. [The pane falls 
 down.~\ What's that? 
 
 A pane thrown from the window, no wind 
 
 stirring ! 
 Calam. And at your feet too fall'n : 
 
 there's something writ on't. 
 Cont. Some courtier, belike, would have 
 
 it known 
 He wore a diamond. 
 
 Calam. Ha ! it is directed 
 To the princess Fiorinda. 
 Fior. We will read it. Reads. 
 
 He, whom you pleased to favour, is cast down. 
 Past hope of rising, by the- great duke sfro-wn, 
 If, by your gracious means, he cannot have 
 A pardon ; and that got, lie lives your slave. 
 Of men the most distressed, 
 
 SANAZARRO. 
 
 Of me the most beloved ; and I will save thee, 
 Or perish with thee. Sure, thy fault must be 
 Of some prodigious shape, if that my prayers 
 And humble intercession to the duke 
 
 Enter Cozimo and Charomonte. 
 
 Prevail not with him. Here he comes ; delay 
 Shall not make less my benefit. 
 
 Coz. What we purpose 
 Shall know no change, and therefore move 
 
 me not : 
 We were made as properties, and what we 
 
 shall 
 
 Determine of them cannot be call'd rigour, 
 But noble justice. When they proved disloyal, 
 They were cruel to themselves. The prince 
 
 that pardons 
 
 The first affront offer 'd to majesty, 
 Invites a second, rendering that power 
 Subjects should tremble at, contemptible. 
 Ingratitude is a monster, Carolo, 
 To be strangled in the birth, not to be 
 
 cherish'd. 
 Madam, you're happily met with. 
 
 Fior. Sir, I am 
 
 An humble suitor to you ; and the rather 
 Am confident of a grant, in that your grace, 
 When I made choice to be at your devotion, 
 Vow'd to deny me nothing. 
 
 Coz. To this minute 
 We have confirm'd it. What's your boon? 
 
 Fior. It is, sir, 
 
 That you, in being gracious to your servant, 
 The ne'er sufficiently praised Sanazarro, 
 That now under your heavy displeasure 
 
 suffers, 
 
 Would be good unto yourself. His services, 
 So many, and so great, (your storm of fury 
 Calm'd by your better judgment,) must in- 
 form you 
 
 Some little slip, for sure it is no more, 
 From his loyal duty, with your justice cannot 
 
248 
 
 THE GREAT DUKE OF FLORENCE. 
 
 Make foul his fair deservings. Great sir, 
 
 therefore, 
 Look backward on his former worth, and 
 
 turning 
 Your eye from his offence, what 'tis I know 
 
 not, 
 
 And, I am confident, you will receive him 
 Once more into your favour. 
 
 Coz. You say well, 
 
 You are ignorant in the nature of his fault ; 
 Which when you understand, as we'll instruct 
 
 you, 
 
 Your pity will appear a charity, 
 It being conferr'd on an unthankful man, 
 To be repented. He's a traitor, madam, 
 To you, to us, to gratitude ; and in that 
 All crimes are comprehended. 
 
 Fior. If his offence 
 Aim'd at me only, whatsoe'er it is, 
 Tis freely pardon'd. 
 
 Coz. This compassion in you 
 Must make the colour of his guilt more ugly. 
 The honours we have hourly heap'd upon 
 
 him, 
 
 The titles, the rewards, to the envy of 
 The old nobility, as the common people, 
 We now forbea'r to touch at, and will only 
 Insist on his gross wrongs to you. You were 
 
 pleased, 
 
 Forgetting both 3'ourself and proper great- 
 ness, 
 
 To favour him, nay, to court him to embrace 
 A happiness, which, on his knees, with joy 
 He should have sued for. Who repined not at 
 The grace you did him ? yet, in recompense 
 Of your large bounties, tjje disloyal wretch 
 Makes you a stale ; and, what he might be 
 
 by you 
 
 Scorn'd and derided, gives himself up wholly 
 To the service of another. If you can 
 Bear this with patience, we must say you 
 
 have not 
 
 The bitterness of spleen, or ireful passions 
 Familiar to women. Pause upon it, 
 And when you seriously have weigh 'd his 
 
 carriage, 
 
 Move us again, if your reason will allow it, 
 His treachery known : and then, if you con- 
 tinue 
 
 An advocate for him, we, perhaps, because 
 We would deny you nothing, may awake 
 Our sleeping mercy. Carolo ! 
 
 Char: My lord. ' [They talk aside. 
 
 Fior. To endure a rival that were equal to 
 
 me, 
 
 Cannot but speak my poverty of spirit ; 
 But an inferior, more : yet true love must not 
 Know or degrees, or distances. Lidia may be 
 As far above me in her form, as she 
 
 Is in her birth beneath me ; and what I 
 In Sanazarro liked, he loves in her. 
 But, if I free him now, the benefit 
 Being done so timely, and confirming too 
 My strength and power, my soul's best 
 
 faculties being 
 
 Bent wholly to preserve him, must supply me 
 With all I am defective in, and bind him 
 My creature ever. It must needs be so, 
 Nor will I give it o'er thus. 
 
 Cos. Does our nephew 
 Bear his restraint so constantly, as you 
 Deliver it to us ? 
 
 Char. In my judgment, sir, 
 He suffers more for his offence to you, 
 Than in his fear of what can follow it. 
 For he is so collected, and prepared 
 To welcome that you shall determine of him, 
 As if his doubts and fears were equal to him. 
 And sure he's not acquainted with much 
 
 guilt, 
 
 That more laments the telling one untruth, 
 Under your pardon still, for 'twas a fault, sir r 
 Than others, that pretend to conscience, do 
 Their crying secret sins. 
 
 Coz. No more ; this gloss 
 Defends not the corruption of the text : 
 Urge it no more. 
 
 [Charomonte and ihe others talk aside, 
 
 Fior. I once more must make bold, sir, 
 To trench upon your patience. I have 
 Consider'd my wrongs duly : yet that cannot 
 Divert my intercession for a man 
 Your grace, like me, once favour'd. I am. 
 
 still 
 
 A suppliant to you, that you would vouchsafe 
 The hearing h'is defence, and that I may, 
 With your allowance, see and comfort him. 
 Then, having heard all that he can allege 
 In his excuse, for being false to you, 
 Censure him as you please. 
 
 Coz. You will o'ercome ; 
 There's no contending with you. Pray you, 
 
 enjoy 
 
 What you desire, and tell him, he shall hare 
 A speedy trial ; in which, we'll forbear 
 To sit a judge, because our purpose is 
 To rise up his accuser. 
 
 Fior. All increase 
 Of happiness wait on Cozimo ! 
 
 [Exeunt Fiorinda and Calaminta. 
 
 Alph. Was it no more? 
 
 Char. My honour's pawn'd for it. 
 
 Cont. I'll second you. 
 
 Hip. Since it is for the service and the 
 
 safety 
 Of the hopeful prince, fall what can fall, 
 
 I'll run 
 The desperate hazard. 
 
THE GREAT DUKE OF FLORENCE. 
 
 249 
 
 Hier. He's no friend to virtue 
 That does decline it. 
 
 {They all come forward and kneel. 
 Coz. Ha ! what sue you for ? 
 Shall we be ever troubled ? Do not tempt 
 That anger may consume you. 
 
 Char. Let it, sir : 
 
 The loss is less, though innocents we perish, 
 Than that your sister's son should fall, un- 
 heard, 
 
 Under your fury. Shall we fear to entreat 
 That grace for him, that are your faithful 
 
 servants, 
 Which you vouchsafe the count, like us a 
 
 subject ? 
 Coz. Did not we vow, till sickness had 
 
 forsook 
 
 Thy daughter Lidia, and she appear'd 
 In her perfect health and beauty to plead for 
 
 him, 
 We were deaf to all persuasion ? 
 
 Char. And that hope, sir, 
 Hath wrought a miracle. She is recover'd, 
 And, if you please to warrant her, will bring 
 The penitent prince before you. 
 
 Coz. To enjoy 
 
 Such happiness, what would we not dis- 
 pense with ? 
 Alph. Hip. Hier. We all kneel for the 
 
 prince. 
 
 Cont. Nor can it stand 
 With your mercy, that are gracious to 
 
 strangers, 
 To be cruel to your own. 
 
 Coz. But art thou certain 
 I shall behold her at che best ? 
 
 Char. If ever 
 
 She was handsome, as it fits not me to say so, 
 She is now much better'd. 
 
 Coz. Rise ; thou art but dead 
 If this prove otherwise. Lidia, appear 
 And feast an appetite almost pined to death 
 With longing expectation to behold 
 Thy excellencies : thou, as beauty's queen, 
 Shalt censure the detractors. Let my nephew 
 Be led in triumph under her command ; 
 We'll have it so ; and Sanazarro tremble 
 To think whom he hath slander'd. We'll 
 
 retire 
 
 Ourselves a little, and prepare to meet 
 A blessing, which imagination tells us 
 We are not worthy of: and then come 
 
 forth, 
 
 But with such reverence, as it I were 
 Myself the priest, the sacrifice my heart, 
 To oft'er at the altar of that goodness 
 That must or kill or save me. {Exit. 
 
 Char. Are not these 
 Strange gambols in the duke ! 
 
 Alph. Great princes have, 
 Like meaner men, their weakness. 
 
 Hip. And may use it 
 Without control or check. 
 
 Cont. 'Tis fit they should : 
 Their privilege were less else, than their 
 
 subjects'. 
 
 Hier. Let them have their humours; there's 
 no crossing them. {Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE III. A State-room in the same. 
 Enter Fiorinda, Sanazarro, and Calaminta. 
 Sanaz. And can it be, your bounties 
 
 should fall down 
 
 In showers on my ingratitude, or the wrongs 
 Your greatness should revenge, teach you to 
 
 pity? 
 
 What retribution can I make, what service 
 Pay to your goodness, that, in some pro- 
 portion, 
 
 May to the world express I would be thankful? 
 Since my engagements are so great, that all 
 My best endeavours to appear your creature 
 Can but proclaim my wants, and what I owe 
 To your magnificence. 
 
 Fior. All debts are discharged 
 In this acknowledgment : yet, since you 
 
 please 
 
 I shall impose some terms of satisfaction 
 For that which you profess yourself obliged 
 
 for, 
 
 They shall be gentle ones, and such as will not, 
 I hope, afflict you. 
 
 Sanaz. Make me understand, 
 Great princess, what they are, and my 
 
 obedience 
 
 Shall, with all cheerful willingness, subscribe 
 To what you shall command. 
 
 Fior. I will bind you to 
 Make good your promise. First, I then 
 
 enjoin you 
 
 To love a lady, that, a noble way, 
 Truly affects you ; and that you would take 
 To your protection and care the dukedom 
 Of Urbin, which no more is mine, but yours. 
 And that, when you have full possession of 
 M y person as my fortune, you would use me, 
 Not as a princess, but instruct me in 
 The duties of an humble wife, for such, 
 The privilege of my birth no more re- 
 
 member'd, 
 
 I will be to you. This consented to, 
 All injuries forgotten, on your lips 
 I thus sign your quietus. 
 Sanaz. I am wretched, 
 In having but one life to be employ'd 
 As you please to dispose it. And, believe it, 
 If it be not already forfeited 
 To the fury of my prince, as 'tis your gift, 
 
250 
 
 THE GREAT DUKE'OF FLORENCE. 
 
 With all the faculties of my soul I'll study, 
 In what I may to serve you. 
 Fior. I am happy 
 
 Enter Giovanni, and Lidia. 
 In this assurance. What sweet lady's this ? 
 
 Sanaz. 'Tis Lidia, madam, she 
 
 Fior. I understand you. 
 Nay, blush not ; by my'life, she is a rare one ! 
 And, if I were your judge, I would not 
 
 blame you 
 To like and love her. But, sir, you are 
 
 mine now ; 
 
 And I presume so on your constancy, 
 That I dare not be jea'lous. 
 
 Sanaz. All thoughts of her 
 Are in your goodness buried* 
 
 Lid. Pray you, sir, 
 Be comforted ; your innocence should not 
 
 know 
 
 What 'tis to fear ; and if that you but look on 
 The guards that you have in yourself, you 
 
 cannot. 
 The duke's your uncle, sir, and, though a 
 
 little 
 Incensed against you, when he sees your 
 
 sorrow, 
 
 He must be reconciled. What rugged Tartar, 
 Or cannibal, though bath'd in human gore, 
 But, looking on your sweetness, would forget 
 His cruel nature, and let fall his weapon, 
 Though then aim'd at your throat? 
 
 Gioz-. O Lidia, 
 
 Of maids the honour, and your sex's glory ! 
 It is not fear to die, but to'lose you, 
 That brings this fever on me. I will now 
 Discover to you, that which, till this minute, 
 I durst not trust the air with. Ere you knew 
 What power the magic of your beauty had, 
 I was enchanted by it, like'd, and loved it, 
 My fondness still increasing with my years ; 
 And, flattered by false hopes, I did attend 
 Some blessed opportunity to move 
 The duke with his consent to make you mine: 
 But now, such is my star-cross'd destiny, 
 WTien he beholds you as you are, he cannot 
 Deny himself the happiness to enjoy you. 
 And' I as well in reason may entreat him 
 To give away his crown, as to part from 
 A jewel of more value, such you are. 
 Yet, howsoever, when you are his dutchess, 
 And I am turn'd into forgotten dust, 
 Pray you, love my memory : I should say 
 
 more, 
 
 But I'm cut off. 
 
 Enter Cozimo, Charomonte, Contarino, 
 Hieronimo, Hippolito, and Alphonso. 
 Sanaz. The duke ! That countenance, 
 
 once, 
 
 When it was clothed in smiles, shew'd like 
 
 an angel's, 
 
 But, now 'tis folded up in clouds of fury, 
 'Tis terrible to look on. 
 Lid. Sir. 
 Coz. Awhile 
 
 Silence your musical tongue, and let me feast 
 My eyes with the most ravishing object that 
 They ever gazed on. There's no miniature 
 In her fair face, but is a copious theme 
 Which would, discours'd at large of, make 
 
 a volume. 
 What clear arch'd brows ! what sparkling 
 
 eyes ! the lilies 
 
 Contending with the roses in her cheeks, 
 Who shall most set them off. What ruby 
 
 lips ! 
 
 Or unto what can I compare her neck, 
 But to a rock of crystal ! every limb 
 Proportion'd to love's wish, and in their 
 
 neatness 
 
 Add lustre to the riches of her habit, 
 Not borrow from it. 
 
 Lid. You are pleased to shew, sir, 
 The fluency of your language, in advancing 
 A subject much unworthy. 
 Coz. How ! unworthy ? 
 By all the vows which lovers offer at 
 The Cyprian goddess' altars, eloquence 
 Itself presuming, as you are, to speak you, 
 Would be struck dumb ! And what have 
 
 you deserved then, 
 
 [Giovanni and Sanazarro kneel. 
 (Wretches, you kneel too late,) that have 
 
 endeavour'd 
 
 To spout the poison of your black detraction 
 On this immaculate whiteness ? was it malice 
 
 To her perfections ? or 
 
 Fior. Your highness promised 
 A gracious hearing to the count. 
 
 Lid. And prince too ; 
 Do not make void so just a grant. 
 
 Coz. We will not : 
 
 Yet, since their accusation must be urged, 
 And strongly, ere their weak defence have 
 
 hearing, 
 
 We seat you here, as judges, to determine 
 Of your gross wrongs and ours. 
 
 [Seats tJic Ladies in the chairs of state. 
 And now, remembering 
 Whose deputies you are, be neither sway'd 
 Or with particular spleen, or foolish pity, 
 For neither can become you. 
 
 Char. There's some hope yet, 
 Since they have such gentle judges. 
 Coz. Rise, and stand forth, then, 
 And hear, with horror to your guilty souls, 
 What we will prove against you. Could this 
 
 princess, 
 
THE GREAT DUKE OF FLORENCE. 
 
 Thou enemy to thyself, [To Sanazarro.] 
 
 stoop her high flight 
 
 Of towering greatness to invite thy lowness 
 To look up to it, and with nimble wings 
 Of gratitude couldst thou forbear to meet it ? 
 Were her favours boundless in a noble way, 
 And warranted by our allowance, yet, 
 In thy acceptation, there appear'd no sign 
 Of a modest thankfulness ? 
 
 Fior. Pray you forbear 
 To press that further ; 'tis a fault we have 
 Already heard, and pardon'd. 
 
 Coz. We will then 
 
 Pass over it, and briefly touch at that 
 Which does concern ourself, in which both 
 
 being 
 
 Equal offenders, what we shall speak points 
 Indifferently at either. How we raised thee, 
 Forgetful Sanazarro ! of our grace, 
 To a full possession of power and honours, 
 It being too well known, we'll not remember. 
 And what thou wert, rash youth, in expecta- 
 tion, [To Giovanni. 
 And from which headlong thou hast thrown 
 
 thyself, 
 
 Not Florence, but all Tuscany can witness, 
 With admiration. To assure thy hopes, 
 We did keep constant to a widowed bed, 
 And did deny ourself those lawful pleasures 
 Our absolute power and height of blood 
 
 allow'd us ; 
 Made both, the keys that open'd our heart's 
 
 secrets, 
 
 And what you spake, believed as oracles : 
 But you, in recompense of this, to him 
 That gave you all, to whom you owed your 
 
 being, 
 
 With treacherous lies endeavour'd to con- 
 ceal 
 
 This jewel from our knowledge, which ourself 
 Could only lay just claim to. 
 Giov. 'Tis most true, sir. 
 Sanaz. We both confess a guilty cause. 
 Coz. Look on her. 
 Is this a beauty fit to be embraced 
 By any subject's arms ? can any tire 
 Become that forehead, but a diadem ? 
 Or, should we grant your being false to us 
 Could be excused, your treachery to her, 
 In seeking to deprive her of that greatness 
 {Her matchless form consider'd) she was 
 
 born to, 
 Must ne'er find pardon. We have spoken, 
 
 ladies, 
 
 Like a rough orator, that brings more truth 
 Than rhetoric to make good his accusation ; 
 And now expect your sentence. 
 
 [ The Ladies descend front the state. 
 Lid. In your birth, sir, 
 
 You were mark'd out the judge of life and 
 
 death, 
 
 And we, that are your subjects, to attend, 
 With trembling fear, your doom. 
 
 Fior. We do resign 
 This chair, as only proper to yourself. 
 Giov. And, since in justice we are lost, 
 
 we fly 
 Unto your saving mercy. [All kneeling. 
 
 Sanaz. Which sets off 
 A prince, much more than rigour. 
 
 Char. And becomes him, 
 When 'tis express'd to such as fell by weak- 
 ness, 
 
 That being a twin-born brother to affection, 
 Better than wreaths of conquest. 
 
 Hier. Hip. Cont. Alph. We all speak 
 Their language, mighty sir. 
 
 Coz. You know our temper, 
 And therefore with more boldness venture 
 
 on it : 
 
 And, would not our consent to your demands 
 Deprive us of a happiness hereafter 
 Ever to be despair'd of, we, perhaps, 
 Might hearken nearer to you ; and could 
 
 wish 
 
 With some qualification, or excuse, 
 You might make less the mountains of your 
 
 crimes, 
 And so invite our clemency to feast with 
 
 you. 
 
 But you, that knew with what impatiency 
 Of grief we parted from the fair Clarincla, 
 Our dutchess, (let her memory still be 
 
 sacred !) 
 
 And with what imprecations on ourself 
 We vowed, not hoping e'er to see her equal, 
 Ne'er to make trial of a second choice, 
 If nature framed not one that did excel her, 
 As this maid's beauty prompts us that she 
 
 does : 
 And yet, with oaths then mix'd with tears, 
 
 upon 
 Her monument we swore our eye should 
 
 never 
 
 Again be tempted ; 'tis true, and those vows 
 Are register'd above, something here tells 
 
 me. 
 
 Carolo, thou heardst us swear. 
 Char. And swear so deeply, 
 That if all women's beauties were in this, 
 (As she's not to be named with the dead 
 
 dutchess,) 
 
 Nay, all their virtues bound up in one story, 
 (Of which mine is scarce an epitome,) 
 If you should take her as a wife, the weight 
 Of your perjuries would sink you. If I durst, 
 I had told you this before. 
 
 Coz. 'Tis strong truth, Carolo : 
 
252 
 
 THE GREAT DUKE OF FLORENCE. 
 
 And yet, what was necessity in us, 
 Cannot free them from treason. 
 
 Char, There's your error ; 
 The prince, in care to have you keep your 
 
 vows 
 Made unto heaven, vouchsafed to love my 
 
 daughter. 
 
 Lid. He told me so, indeed, sir. 
 Fior. And the count 
 Averr'd as much to me. 
 Coz. You all conspire, 
 To force our mercy from us. 
 
 Char. Which given up, 
 To aftertimes preserves you unforsworn : 
 An honour which will live upon your tomb, 
 When your greatness is forgotten. 
 
 Coz. Though we know 
 All this is practice, and that both are false : 
 Such reverence we will pay to dead Clarinda, 
 And to our serious oaths, that we are 
 
 pleased 
 With our own hand to blind our eyes, and 
 
 not 
 
 Know what we understand. Here, Giovanni, 
 We pardon thee ; and take from us, in this, 
 More than our dukedom : love her. As I 
 
 part 
 With her, all thoughts of women fly fast 
 
 from us ! 
 
 Sanazarro, we forgive you : in your service 
 To this princess, merit it. Yet let not 
 
 others 
 
 That are in trust and grace, as you have been, 
 By the example of our lenity, 
 Presume upon their sovereign's clemency. 
 
 Enter Calandrino and Petronella. 
 All. Long live great Cozimo ! 
 Cal. Sure the duke is 
 
 In the giving vein, they are so loud. Come- 
 on, spouse ; 
 We have heard all, and we will have our 
 
 boon too. 
 Coz. What is it ? 
 
 Cal. That your grace, in remembrance of 
 My share in a dance, and that I play'd your 
 
 part, 
 When you should have drunk hard, would 
 
 get this signior's grant 
 To give this damsel to me in the church, 
 For we are contracted. In it you shall do 
 Your dukedom pleasure. 
 Coz. How? 
 
 Cal. Why the whole race 
 Of such as can act naturally fools' parts, 
 Are quite worn out ; and they that do survive, 
 Do only zany us : and we will bring you, 
 If we die not without issue, of both sexes 
 Such chopping mirth-makers, as shall pre- 
 serve 
 
 Perpetual cause of sport, both to your grace 
 And your posterity ; that sad melancholy 
 Shall ne'er approach you. 
 
 Coz. We are pleased in it,. 
 And will pay her portion. {^Comes forward. 
 
 May the passage prove, 
 Of what's presented, worthy ofyortr love, 
 And favour, as was aim'd; and we have all 
 
 > That can in compass of our wishes fall. 
 
 \ [Exeunt*. 
 
The Maid of Honour. 
 
 DRAMATIS PERSONS. 
 
 Roberto, king of Sicily. 
 
 Ferdinand, duke o/Urb'm. 
 
 Bertoldo, the king's naturalbrother, a knight 
 
 of Malta. 
 Gonzaga, a knight of Malta, general to the 
 
 dutchess of Sienna. 
 Astutio, a counsellor of state. 
 Fulgentio, the minion of Roberto. 
 Adorni, a follower of 'Camiola's father. 
 Signior Sylli, a foolish self-lover. 
 
 JSE} ****** 
 
 Pierio, a colonel to Gonzaga. 
 
 SCENE, Partly in Sicily 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 SCENE I. Palermo. A State-room in 
 
 the Palace. 
 
 Enter Astutio and Adorni, 
 Ador. Good day to your lordship. 
 Ast. Thanks, Adorni. 
 Ador. May I presume to ask if the am- 
 bassador 
 
 Employ 'd by Ferdinand, the Duke of Urbin, 
 Hath audience this morning? 
 
 Enter Fulgentio. 
 
 Ast. Tis uncertain ; 
 
 For, though a counsellor of state, I am not 
 Of the cabinet council : but there's one, if 
 
 he please, 
 That may resolve you. 
 
 Ador. I will move him. Sir ! 
 
 Ful. If you've a suit, shew water, I am 
 blind else. 
 
 Ador. A suit ; yet of a nature not to prove 
 The quarry that you hawk for ; if your words 
 Are not like Indian wares, and every scruple 
 To be weigh'd and rated, one poor syllable, 
 Vouchsafed in answer of a fair demand, 
 Cannot deserve a fee. 
 
 Ful. It seems you are ignorant, 
 I neither speak nor hold my peace for 
 
 nothing ; 
 
 And yet, for once, I care not if I answer 
 One single question, gratis. 
 
 Ador. I much thank you. 
 Hath the ambassador audience, sir, to-day? 
 
 Ful. Yes. 
 
 j . . ' > captains to duke Ferdinand. 
 
 Father Paulo, a priest, Camiola's confessor. 
 
 Ambassador from the duke of Urbin. 
 
 A Bishop. 
 
 A Page. 
 
 Aurelia, dutchess of Sienna. 
 
 Camiola, thj MAID OF HONOUR. 
 
 Clarinda, her woman. 
 
 Scout, Soldiers, Gaoler, Attendants, 
 
 Servants, &c. 
 and partly in the Siennese. 
 
 Ador. At what hour? 
 Ful. I promised not so much. 
 A syllable you begg'd, rny charity gave it ; 
 Move me no further. [Exit. 
 
 Ast. This you wonder at : 
 With me, 'tis usual. 
 Ador. Pray you, sir, what is he? 
 A st. A gentleman, yet no lord. He hath 
 
 some drops 
 Of the king's blood running in his veins, 
 
 derived 
 
 Some ten degrees off. His revenue lies 
 In a narrow compass, the king's ear ; and 
 
 yields him 
 
 Every hour a fniitful harvest. Men may talk 
 Of three crops in a year in the Fortunate 
 
 Islands, 
 Or profit made by wool ; but, while there 
 
 are suitors, 
 
 His sheepshearing, nay, shaving to the quick, 
 Is in every quarter of the moon, and constant. 
 In the time of trussing a point, he can undo, 
 Or make a man : his play or recreation, 
 Is to raise this up, or pull down that ; and, 
 
 though 
 He never yet took orders, makes more 
 
 bishops 
 In Sicily, than the pope himself. 
 
 Enter Bertoldo, Gasparo, Antonio, and 
 a Servant. 
 
 Ador. Most strange ! 
 
 Ast. The presence fills. He in the Malta 
 
 habit 
 Is the natural brother of the king a by-blow. 
 
254 
 
 THE MAID OF HONOUR. 
 
 Ador. I understand you. 
 
 Gasp. Morrow to my uncle. 
 
 Ant. And my late guardian : but at length 
 
 I have 
 The reins in my own hands. 
 
 A st. Pray you, use them well, 
 Or you'll too late repent it. 
 
 Bert. With this jewel 
 Presented to Camiola, prepare 
 This night, a visit for me. [Exit Servant.] I 
 
 shall have 
 
 Your company, gallants, I perceive, if that 
 The king will" hear of war. 
 
 Ant. Sir, I have horses 
 Of the best breed in Naples, fitter far 
 To break a rank than crack a lance ; and are, 
 In their career, of such incredible swiftness, 
 They outstrip swallows. 
 
 Bert. And such may be useful 
 To run away with, should we be defeated : 
 You are well provided, signior. 
 
 Ant. Sir, excuse me ; 
 
 All of their race, by instinct, know a coward, 
 And scorn the burthen : they come on, like 
 
 lightning ; 
 Founder'd in a retreat. 
 
 Bert. By no means back them ; 
 Unless you know your courage sympathize 
 With the daring of your horse. 
 
 Ant. My lord, this is bitter. 
 
 Gasp. I will raise me a company of foot ; 
 And, when at push of pike I am to enter 
 A breach, to shew my valour, I have bought 
 
 me 
 An armour cannon proof. 
 
 Bert. You will not leap, then, 
 O'er an outwork in your shirt ? 
 
 Gasp. I do not like 
 Activity that way. 
 
 Bert. You had rather stand 
 A mark to try their muskets on ? 
 
 Gasp. If fdo 
 No good, I'll do no hurt. 
 
 Bert. 'Tis in you, signior, 
 A Christian resolution, and becomes you ! 
 But I will not discourage you. 
 
 Ant. You are, sir, 
 
 A knight of Malta, and, as I have heard, 
 Have serv'd against the Turk. 
 
 Bert. 'Tis true. 
 
 Ant. Pray you, shew us 
 The difference between the city valour, 
 And service in the field. 
 
 Bert. Tis somewhat more 
 Than roaring in a tavern or a brothel, 
 Or to steal a constable from a sleeping watch , 
 Then burn their halberds ; or, safe guarded 
 
 by 
 Your tenants' sons, to carry away a May-pole 
 
 From a neighbour village. You will not find 
 
 there, 
 
 Your masters of dependencies, to take up 
 A drunken brawl, or, to get you the names 
 Of valiant chevaliers, fellows' that will be, 
 For a cloak with thrice-dyed velvet, and a 
 
 cast suit 
 Kick'd down the stairs. A knave with half 
 
 a breech there, 
 
 And no shirt, (being a thing superfluous 
 And worn out of his memory,) if you bear not 
 Yourselves both in, and upright, with a 
 
 provant sword 
 Will slash your scarlets and your plush a 
 
 new way ; 
 
 Or, with the hilts, thunder about your ears 
 Such music as will make your worships dance 
 To the doleful tune of Lachryma. 
 
 Gasp. I must tell you 
 In private, as you are my princely friend, 
 I do not like such fiddlers. 
 
 Bert. No ! they are useful 
 For your imitation ; I remember you, 
 When you came first to the court, and 
 
 talk d of nothing 
 But your rents and your entradas, ever 
 
 chiming 
 
 The golden bells in your pockets ; you be- 
 lieved 
 
 The taking of the wall as a tribute due to 
 Your gaudy clothes ; and could not walk at 
 
 midnight 
 
 Without a causeless quarrel, as if men 
 Of coarser outsides were in duty bound 
 To suffer your affronts : but, when you had 
 
 been 
 Cudgell'd well twice or thrice, and from the 
 
 doctrine 
 
 Made profitable uses, you concluded 
 The sovereign means to teach irregular heirs 
 Civility, with conformity of manners, 
 Were two or three sound beatings. 
 
 Ant. I confess 
 They did much good upon me. 
 
 Gasp. And on me : 
 The principles that they read were sound. 
 
 Bert. You'll find 
 
 The like instructions in the camp. 
 Ast. The king! 
 
 A flourish. Enter Roberto, Fulgentio, 
 Ambassadors, and Attendants. 
 
 Rob. [ascends the throne."] We sit prepared. 
 
 to hear. 
 
 Amb. Your majesty 
 
 Hath been long since familiar, I doubt not, 
 With the desperate fortunes of my lord ; and 
 pity 
 
THE MAID OF HONOUR. 
 
 25 s 
 
 Of the much that your confederate hath 
 
 suffer'd, 
 
 You being his last refuge, may persuade you 
 Not alone to compassionate, but to lend 
 Your royal aids to stay him in his fall 
 To certain ruin. He, too late, is conscious 
 That his ambition to encroach upon 
 His neighbour's territories, with the danger 
 
 of 
 His liberty, nay, his life, hath brought in 
 
 question 
 
 His own inheritance : but youth, and heat 
 Of blood, in your interpretation, may 
 Both plead and mediate for him. I must 
 
 grant it 
 
 An error in him, being denied the favours 
 Of the fair princess of Sienna, (though 
 He sought her in a noble way,) to endeavour 
 To force affection, by surprisal of 
 Her principal seat, Sienna. 
 Rob. Which now proves 
 The seat of his captivity, not triumph : 
 Heaven is still just. 
 
 Amb. And yet that justice is 
 To be with mercy temper'd, which heaven's 
 
 deputies 
 Stand bound to minister. The injured 
 
 dutchess, 
 
 By reason taught, as nature could not, with 
 The reparation of her wrongs, but aim at 
 A brave revenge ; and my lord feels, too late, 
 That innocence will find friends. The great 
 
 Gonzaga, 
 
 The honour of his order, (I must praise 
 Virtue, though in an enemy,) he whose fights 
 And conquests hold one number, rallying up 
 Her scatter'd troops, before we could get 
 
 time 
 
 To victual or to man the conquer'd city, 
 Sat down before it ; and, presuming that 
 'Tis not to be relieved, admits no parley, 
 Our flagsof truce hungoutin vain : nor will he 
 Lend an ear to composition, but exacts, 
 With the rendering up the town, the goods 
 
 and lives 
 
 Of all within the walls, and of all sexes, 
 To be at his discretion. 
 Rob. Since injustice 
 In your duke meets this correction, can you 
 
 press us, 
 
 With any seeming argument of reason, 
 In foolish pity to decline his dangers, 
 To draw them on ourself ? Shall we not be 
 Warn'd by his harms? The league pro- 
 claim 'd between us, 
 
 Bound neither of us further than to aid 
 Each other, if by foreign force invaded ; 
 And so far in my honour I was tied. 
 But since, without our counsel, or allowance, 
 
 He hath ta'en arms ; with his good leave, he 
 
 must 
 
 Excuse us if we steer not on a rock 
 We see and may avoid. Let other monarchs 
 Contend to be made glorious by proud war, 
 And, with the blood of their poor subjects! 
 
 purchase 
 
 Increase of empire, and augment their cares 
 In keeping that which was by wrongs ex- 
 torted, 
 
 Gilding unjust invasions with the trim 
 Of glorious conquests ; we, that would be 
 
 known 
 
 The father of our people, in our study 
 And vigilance for their safety, must not change 
 Their ploughshares into swords, and force 
 
 them from 
 
 The secure shade of their own vines, to be 
 Scorch'd with the flames of war : or, for our 
 
 sport, 
 Expose their lives to ruin. 
 
 Amb. Will you, then, 
 In his extremity, forsake your friend ? 
 
 Rob. No ; but preserve ourself. 
 
 Bert. Cannot the beams 
 Of honour thaw your icy fears ? 
 
 Rob. Who's that ? 
 
 Bert. A kind of brother, sir, howe'er your 
 
 subject ; 
 
 Your father's son, and one who blushes that 
 You are not heir to his brave spirit and 
 
 vigour, 
 As to his kingdom. 
 
 Rob. How's this ! 
 
 Bert. Sir, to be 
 
 His living chronicle, and to speak his praise,, 
 Cannot deserve your anger. 
 
 Rob. Where's your warrant 
 For this presumption ? 
 
 Bert. Here, sir, in my heart : 
 Let sycophants, that feed upon your favours, 
 Style coldness in you caution, and prefer 
 Your ease before your honour ; and conclude, 
 To eat and sleep'supinely is the end 
 Of human blessings : I must tell you, sir, 
 Virtue, if not in action, is a vice ; 
 And, when we move not forward, we go 
 
 backward : 
 Nor is this peace, the nurse of drones and 
 
 cowards, 
 Our health, but a disease. 
 
 Gasp. Well urged, my lord. 
 
 Ant. Perfect what is so well begun. 
 
 Amb. And bind 
 My lord your servant. 
 
 Rob. Hair-brain 'd fool .' what reason 
 Canst thou infer to make this good ? 
 
 Bert. A thousand, 
 Not to be contradicted. But consider 
 
2 5 6 
 
 THE MAID OF HONOUR. 
 
 Where your command lies : 'tis not, sir, in 
 
 France, 
 
 Spain, Germany, Portugal, but in Sicily ; 
 An island, sir. Here are no mines of gold 
 Or silver to enrich you ; no worm spins 
 Silk in her womb, to make distinction 
 Between you and a peasant in your habits ; 
 No fish lives near our shores, whose blood 
 
 can dye 
 
 Scarlet or purple ; all that we possess, 
 With beasts we have in common : nature did 
 Design us to be warriors, and to break 
 
 through 
 
 Our ring, the sea, by which we are environ'd ; 
 And we by force must fetch in what is 
 
 wanting, 
 
 Or precious to us. Add to this, we are 
 A populous nation, and increase so fast, 
 That, if we by our providence are not sent 
 Abroad in colonies, or fall by the sword, 
 Not Sicily, though now it were more fruitful 
 Than when 'twas styled the Granary of great 
 
 Rome, 
 Can yield our numerous fry bread : we must 
 
 starve, 
 Or eat up one another. 
 
 Ador. The king hears 
 With much attention. 
 
 Asf. And seems moved with what 
 Bertoldo hath delivered. 
 
 Bert. May you live long, sir, 
 The king of peace, so you deny not us 
 The glory of the war ; let not our nerves 
 Shrink up with sloth, nor, for want of em- 
 ployment, 
 Make younger brothers thieves : it is their 
 
 swords, sir, 
 
 Must sow and reap their harvest. If examples 
 May move you more than arguments, look 
 
 on England, 
 
 "The empress of the European isles, 
 And unto whom alone ours yields precedence : 
 When did she flourish so, as when she w r as 
 The mistress of the ocean, her navies 
 Putting a girdle round about the world? 
 When the Iberian quaked, her worthies 
 
 named ; 
 
 And the fair flower-de-luce grew pale, set by 
 The red rose and the white ! Let not our 
 
 armour 
 
 Hung up, or our unrigg'd armada, make us 
 Ridiculous to the late poor snakes our 
 
 neighbours, 
 
 Warm'd in our bosoms, and to whom again 
 We may be terrible ; while we spend our 
 
 hours 
 
 Without variety, confined to drink, 
 Dice, cards, or whores. Rouse us, sir, from 
 
 the sleep 
 
 Of idleness, and redeem our mortgaged 
 
 honours. 
 Your birth, and justly, claims my father's 
 
 kingdom ; 
 
 But his heroic mind descends to me : 
 I will confirm so much. 
 
 Ador. In his looks he seems 
 To break ope Janus' temple. 
 
 Asf. How these younglings 
 Take fire from him ! 
 
 Ador. It works an alteration 
 Upon the king. 
 
 Ant. I can forbear no longer : 
 War, war, my sovereign ! 
 
 Ful. The king appears 
 Resolv'd, and does prepare to speak. 
 
 Rob. Think not 
 
 Our counsel's built upon so weak a base, 
 As to be overturn'd, or shaken, with 
 Tempestuous winds of words. As I, my lord, 
 Before resolv'd you, I will not engage 
 My person in this quarrel ; neither press 
 My subjects to maintain it : yet, to shew , 
 My rule is gentle, and that I have feeling 
 O' your master's sufferings, since these 
 
 gallants, weary 
 
 Of the happiness of peace, desire to taste 
 The bitter sweets of war, we do consent 
 That, as adventurers and volunteers, 
 No way compell'd by us, they may make trial 
 Of their boasted valours. 
 
 Bert. We desire no more. 
 
 Rob. 'Tis well ; and, but my grant in this, 
 
 expect not 
 
 Assistance from rne. Govern, as you please, 
 The province you make choice of; for, I vow 
 By all things sacred, if that thou miscarry 
 In this rash undertaking, I will hear it 
 No otherwise than as a sad disaster, 
 Fallen on a stranger : nor will I esteem 
 That man my subject, who, in thy extremes, 
 In purse or person aids thee. Take your 
 
 fortune : 
 
 You know me ; I have said it. So, my lord, 
 You have my absolute answer. 
 
 Amb. My prince pays, 
 In me, his duty. 
 
 Rob. Follow me, Fulgentio, 
 And you, Astutio. 
 
 [Flourish. Exeunt Roberto, Fulgen- 
 tio, Astutio, and Attendants. 
 
 Gasp. What a frown he threw, 
 At his departure, on you ! 
 
 Bert. Let him keep 
 His smiles for his state catamite, I care not. 
 
 Ant. Shall we aboard to-night ? 
 
 Amb. Your speed, my lord, 
 Doubles the benefit. 
 
 Bert. I have a business 
 
THE MAID OF HONOUR. 
 
 257 
 
 Requires dispatch ; some two hours hence 
 I'll meet you. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE II. The same. A Room in 
 
 Camiola's House. 
 
 Enter Signior Sylli, walking fantastically, 
 followed by Camiola and Clarinda. 
 
 Cam. Nay, signior, this is too much 
 
 ceremony, 
 In my own house. 
 
 Syl. What's gracious abroad, 
 Must be in private practised. 
 
 Clar. For your mirth's sake 
 Let him alone ; he has been all this morning 
 In practise with a peruked gentleman-usher, 
 To teach him his true amble, and his postures, 
 [Sylli walking by, and practising. 
 When he walks before a lady. 
 
 Syl. You may, madam, 
 Perhaps, believe that I in this use art, 
 To make you dote upon me, by exposing 
 My more than most rare features to your view : 
 But I, as I have ever done, deal simply ; 
 A mark of sweet simplicity, ever noted 
 In the family of the Syllis. Therefore, lady, 
 Look not with too much contemplation on 
 
 me ; 
 If you do, you are in the suds. 
 
 Cam. You are no barber ? 
 
 Syl. Fie, no ! not I ; but my good parts 
 
 have drawn 
 
 More loving hearts out of fair ladies' bellies, 
 Than the whole trade have done teeth. 
 
 Cam. Is't possible ? 
 
 Syl. Yes, and they live too : marry, much 
 
 condoling 
 
 The scorn of their Narcissus, as they call me, 
 Because I love myself 
 
 Cam. Without a rival. 
 What philters or love-powders do you use, 
 To force affection ? I see nothing in 
 Your person but I dare look on, yet keep 
 My own poor heart still. 
 
 Syl. You are warn'd be arm'd ; 
 And do not lose the hope of such a husband, 
 In being too soon enamour'd. 
 
 Clar. Hold in your head, 
 Or you must have a martingal. 
 
 Syl. I have sworn 
 Never to take a wife, but such a one, 
 
 may your ladyship prove so strong ! as can 
 Hold out a month against me. 
 
 Cam. Never fear it ; 
 
 Though your best taking part, your wealth, 
 were trebled, 
 
 1 would not woo you. But since in your pity 
 You please to give me caution, tell me what 
 Temptations I must fly from. 
 
 Syl. The first is, 
 
 That you never hear me sing, for I'm a Syren : 
 If you observe, when I warble, the dogs howl, 
 As ravish'd with my ditties ; and you will 
 Run mad to hear me. 
 
 Cam. I will stop my ears, 
 And keep my little wits. 
 
 Syl. Next, when I dance, 
 And come aloft thus, [capers.~\ cast not a 
 
 sheep's eye 
 
 Upon the quivering of my calf. 
 Cam. Proceed, sir. 
 Syl. But on no terms, for 'tis a main point, 
 
 dream not 
 O' th' strength of my back, though it will 
 
 bear a burthen 
 With any- porter. 
 
 Cam. I mean not to ride you. 
 Syl. Nor I your little ladyship, till you have 
 Perform'd the covenants. Be not taken with 
 My pretty spider-fingers, nor my eyes, 
 That twinkle on both sides. 
 
 Cam. Was there ever such 
 A piece of motley heard of! [A knocking 
 within.] Who's that? [Exit Clarinda. J 
 You may spare 
 The catalogue of my dangers. 
 
 Syl. No, good madam ; 
 I have not told you half. 
 
 Cam. Enough, good signior ; 
 If I eat more of such sweetmeats, I shall 
 surfeit. 
 
 Re-enter Clarinda. 
 Who is 't ? 
 
 Clar. The brother of the king. 
 Syl. Nay, start not. 
 
 The brother of the king ! is he no more ? 
 Were it the king himself, I'd give him leave 
 To speak his mind to you, for I am not 
 
 jealous ; 
 
 And, to assure your ladyship of so much, 
 I'll usher him in, and, that done hide my- 
 self. [Aside, and exit. 
 Cam. Camiola, if ever, now be constant : 
 This is, indeed, asuitor, whose sweet presence, 
 Courtship, and loving language, would have 
 
 stagger'd 
 
 The chaste Penelope ; and, to increase 
 The wonder, did not modesty forbid it, 
 I should ask that from him he sues to me for : 
 And yet my reason, like a tyrant, tells me 
 I must nor give nor take it. 
 
 Re-enter Sylli with Bertoldo. 
 
 Syl. I must tell you, 
 
 You lose your labour. 'Tis enough to prove it, 
 Signior Sylli came before you ; and you know, 
 First come first serv'd : yet you shall have my 
 countenance 
 
253 
 
 THE MAID OF HONOUR. 
 
 To parley with her, and I'll take special care 
 That none shall interrupt you. 
 Bert. You are courteous. 
 Syl. Come, wench, wilt thou hear wisdom? 
 Clar. Yes, from you, sir. 
 
 [ They walk aside. 
 
 Bert. If forcing this sweet favour from your 
 lips, . [Kisses her. 
 
 Fair madam, argue me of too much boldness, 
 When you are pleased to understand I taka 
 A parti'ng kiss, if not excuse, at least 
 Twill qualify the offence. 
 
 Cam. A parting kiss, sir ! 
 What nation, envious of the happiness 
 Which Sicily enjoys in your sweet presence, 
 Can buy you from her? or what climate yield 
 Pleasures transcending those which you enjoy 
 
 here, 
 
 Being both beloved and honour'd ; the north- 
 star 
 
 And guider of all hearts ; and, to sum up 
 Your full accompt of happiness in a word, 
 The brother of the king ? 
 
 Bert. Do you, alone, 
 And with an unexampled cruelty, 
 Enforce my absence, and deprive me of 
 Those blessings which you, with a polish'd 
 
 phrase, 
 
 Seem to insinuate that I do possess, 
 And yet tax me as being guilty of 
 My wilful exile ? What are titles to me, 
 Or popular suffrage, or my nearness to 
 The king in blood, or fruitful Sicily, 
 Though it confess'd no sovereign but myself, 
 When you, that are the essence of my being, 
 The anchor of my hopes, the real substance 
 Of my felicity, in your disdain, 
 Turn all to fading and deceiving shadows ? 
 Cam. You tax me without cause. 
 Bert. You must confess it. 
 But answer love with love, and seal the con- 
 tract 
 
 In the uniting of our souls, how gladly 
 [Though now I were in action, and assured, 
 Following my fortune, that plumed Victory 
 Would make her glorious stand upon my 
 
 tent) 
 
 Would I put off my armour, in my heat 
 Of conquest, and, like Antony, pursue 
 My Cleopatra ! Will you yet look on me, 
 With an eye of favour ? 
 
 Cam. Truth bear witness for me, 
 That, in the judgment of my soul, you are 
 A man so absolute, and circular, 
 In all those wish'd-for rarities that may 
 
 take 
 
 A virgin captive, that, though at this instant 
 All scepter' d monarchs of our western world 
 Were rivals with you, and Camiola worthy 
 
 Of such a competition, you alone 
 Should wear the garland. 
 
 Bert. If so, what diverts 
 Your favour from me ? 
 
 Cam. No mulct in yourself, 
 Or in your person, mind, or fortune. 
 
 Bert . What then ? 
 
 Cam. The consciousness of mine own 
 
 wants : alas ! sir. 
 
 We are not parallels ; but, like lines divided, 
 Can ne'er meet in one centre. Your birth, sir, 
 Without addition, were an ample dowry 
 For one of fairer fortunes ; and this shape, 
 Were you ignoble, far above all value : 
 To this so clear a mind, so furnish'd with 
 Harmonious faculties moulded from heaven, 
 That though you were Thersites in your 
 
 features, 
 
 Of no descent, and Irus in your fortunes, 
 Ulysses-like, you'd force all eyes and ears 
 To love, but seen ; and, when heard, won- 
 der at 
 
 Your matchless story : but all these bound up 
 Together in one volume ! give me leave, 
 With admiration to look upon them ; 
 But not presume, in my own flattering hopes, 
 I may or can enjoy them. 
 
 Bert. How you ruin 
 
 What you would seem to build up ! I know no 
 Disparity between us ; you're an heir, 
 Sprung from a noble family ; fair, rich, young, 
 And every way my equal. 
 
 Cam. Sir, excuse me ; 
 One aerie with proportion ne'er discloses 
 The eagle and the wren : tissue and frieze 
 In the same garment, monstrous ! But 
 
 suppose 
 
 That what's in you excessive were diminish 'd, 
 And my desert supplied ; the stronger bar, 
 Religion, stops our entrance : you are, sir, 
 A knight of Malta, by your order bound 
 To a single life ; you cannot marry me ; 
 And, I assure myself, you are too noble 
 To seekme, though my frailtyshould consent, 
 In a base path. 
 
 Bert. A dispensation, lady, 
 Will easily absolve me. 
 
 Cam. O take heed, sir ! 
 When what is vow'd to heaven is dispens'd 
 
 with, 
 To serve our ends on earth, a curse must 
 
 follow, 
 And not a blessing. 
 
 Bert. Is there no hope left me ? 
 
 Cam. Nor to myself, but is a neighbour to 
 Impossibility. True love should walk 
 On equal feet ; in us it does not, sir : 
 But rest assured, excepting this, I shall be 
 Devoted to your service. 
 
THE MAID OF HONOUR. 
 
 259 
 
 Bert. And this is your 
 Determinate sentence ? 
 Cam. Not to be revoked. 
 Bert. Farewell then, fairest cruel ! all 
 
 thoughts in me 
 
 Of women perish. Let the glorious light 
 Of noble war extinguish Love's dim taper, 
 That only lends me light to see my folly : 
 Honour, be thou my ever-living mistress, 
 And fond affection, as thy bond-slave, serve 
 thee ! [Exit. 
 
 Cam. How soon my sun is set, he being 
 
 absent, 
 
 Never to rise again ! What a fierce battle 
 Is fought between my passions ! methinks 
 We should have kiss'd at parting. 
 
 Syl. I perceive 
 
 He has his answer : now must I step in 
 To comfort her. \comes forward.] You have 
 
 found, I hope, sweet lady, 
 Some difference between a youth of my pitch, 
 And this bugbear Bertoldo : men are men, 
 The king's brother is no more ; good parts 
 
 will do it, 
 
 When titles fail. Despair not ; I may be 
 In time entreated. 
 
 Cam. Be so now, to leave me. 
 Lights for my chamber. O my heart ! 
 
 [Exeunt Camiola and Clarinda. 
 Syl. She now, 
 
 I know, is going to bed, to ruminate 
 Which way to glut herself upon my person : 
 But, for my oath's sake, I will keep her 
 
 hungry ; 
 
 And, to grow full myself, I'll straight to 
 supper. ____ [Exit. 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 SCENE I. The same. A Room in the 
 Palace. 
 
 Enter Roberto, Fulgentio, and Astutio. 
 
 Rob. Embark'd to-night, do you say ? 
 
 Ful. I saw him aboard, sir. 
 
 Rob. And without taking of his leave ? 
 
 Ast. 'Twas strange ! 
 
 Rob. Are we grown so contemptible ? 
 
 Ful. 'Tisfar 
 
 From me, sir, to add fuel to your anger, 
 That, in your ill opinion of him, burns 
 Too hot already ; else, I should affirm, 
 It was a gross neglect. 
 
 Rob. A wilful scorn 
 Of duty and allegiance ; you give it 
 Too fair a name : but we shall think on't. 
 
 Can you 
 Guess what the numbers were, that follow'd 
 
 him 
 In his desperate action ? 
 
 Ful. More than you think, sir. 
 All ill-affected spirits in Palermo, 
 Or to your government or person, with 
 The turbulent swordmen, such whose po- 
 verty forced them 
 
 To wish a change, are gone along with him ; 
 Creatures devoted to his undertakings, 
 In right or wrong : and, to express their zeal 
 And readiness to serve him, ere they went, 
 Profanely took the sacrament on their knees, 
 To live and die with him. 
 
 Rob. O most impious ! 
 Their loyalty to us forgot ? 
 
 Ful. I fear so. 
 
 Ast. Unthankful as they are ! 
 
 Ful. Yet this deserves not 
 One troubled thought in you, sir ; with your 
 
 pardon, 
 I hold that their remove from hence makes 
 
 more 
 For your security than danger. 
 
 Rob. True ; 
 
 And, as I'll fashion it, they shall feel it too. 
 Astutio, you shall presently be dispatch'd 
 With letters, writ and sign'd with our own 
 
 hand, 
 
 To the dutchess of Sienna, in excuse 
 Of these forces sent against her. If you spare 
 An oath, to give it credit, that we never 
 Consented to it, swearing for the king 1 , 
 Though false, it is no perjury. 
 
 Ast. I know it. 
 
 They are not fit to be state agents, sir, 
 That without scruple of their conscience, 
 
 cannot 
 Be prodigal in such trifles. 
 
 Ful, Right, Astutio. 
 
 Rob. You must, beside, from us take 
 
 some instructions, 
 
 To be imparted, as you judge them useful, 
 To the general Gonzaga. Instantly 
 Prepare you for your journey. 
 
 Ast. With the wings 
 Of loyalty and duty. [Exit. 
 
 Ful. I am bold 
 To put your majesty in mind 
 
 Rob. Of my promise, 
 And aids, to further you in your amorous 
 
 project 
 
 To the fair and rich Camiola? there's myring; 
 Whatever you shall say that I entreat, 
 Or can command by power, I will make good. 
 
 Ful. Ever your majesty's creature. 
 
 Rob. Venus prove 
 Propitious to you ! [Exit. 
 
 Ful. All sorts to my wishes : 
 Bertoldo was my hindrance ; he removed, 
 I now will court her in the conqueror's style ; 
 " Come, see, and overcome." Boy ! 
 S-2 
 
260 
 
 THE MAID OF HONOUR. 
 
 Enter Page. 
 
 Page. Sir ; your pleasure ? 
 
 Ful. Haste to Camiola ; bid her prepare 
 An entertainment suitable to a fortune 
 She could not hope for. Tell her, I vouchsafe 
 To honour her with a visit. 
 
 Page. 'Tis a favour 
 Will make her proud. 
 
 Ful. I know it. 
 
 Page. I am gone, sir. \Exit. 
 
 Ful. Entreaties fit not me ; a man in grace 
 
 May challenge awe and privilege, by his 
 
 place. \Exit. 
 
 SCENE II. The same. A Room in 
 
 Camiola's House. 
 
 Enter Adorni, Sylli, and Clarinda. 
 A dor. So melancholy, say you ! 
 Clar. Never given 
 To such retirement. 
 
 A dor. Can you guess the cause? 
 
 Clar. If it hath not its birth and being 
 
 from 
 
 The brave Bertoldo's absence, I confess 
 'Tis past my apprehension. 
 
 Syl. You are wide, 
 
 The whole field wide. I, in my understanding, 
 Pity your ignorance ; yet, if you will 
 Swear to conceal it, I will let you know 
 Where her shoe wrings her. 
 
 Clar. I vow, signior, 
 By my virginity. 
 
 Syl. A perilous oath, 
 
 In a waiting- woman of fifteen ! and is, indeed, 
 A kind of nothing. 
 
 Ador. I'll take one of something, 
 If you please to minister it. 
 
 Syl. Nay, you shall not swear : 
 I had rather take your word ; for, should 
 
 you vow, 
 D n me, I'll do this ! you are sure to 
 
 break. 
 
 Ador. I thank you, signior ; but resolve us. 
 Syl. Know, then, 
 Here walks the cause. She dares not look 
 
 upon me ; 
 
 My beauties are so terrible and enchanting, 
 She cannot endure my sight. 
 Ador. There I believe you. 
 Syl. But the time will come, be comforted, 
 
 when I will 
 
 Put off this vizor of unkindness to her, 
 And shew an amorous and yielding face : 
 And, until then, though Hercules himself 
 Desire to see her, he had better eat 
 His club, than pass her threshold ; for I 
 
 will be 
 Her Cerberus, to guard her. 
 
 Ador. A good dog ! 
 
 Clar. Worth twenty porters. 
 
 Enter Page. 
 
 Page. Keep you open house here ? 
 No groom to attend a gentleman ! O, I 
 
 spy one. 
 
 Syl. He means not me, I am sure. 
 Page. You, sirrah sheep's-head, 
 With a face cut on a cat-stick, do you hear? 
 You, yeoman fewterer, conduct me to 
 The lady of the mansion, or my poniard 
 Shall disembogue thy soul. 
 
 Syl. O terrible ! disembogue! 
 I talk'd of Hercules, and here is one 
 Bound up in decimo sexto. 
 Page. Answer, wretch. 
 Syl. Pray you, little gentleman, be not so 
 
 furious : 
 The lady keeps her chamber. 
 
 Page. And we present, 
 Sent in an embassy to her ! but here is 
 Her gentlewoman. Sirrah ! hold my cloak. 
 While I take a leap at her lips : do it, and 
 
 neatly ; 
 Or, having first tripp'd up thy heels, I'll 
 
 make 
 Thy back my footstool. [Kisses Clarinda. 
 
 Syl. Tamberlane in little ! 
 Am I turn'd Turk ! What an office am I 
 
 put to ! 
 
 Clar. My lady, gentle youth, is indis- 
 posed. 
 Page. Though she were dead and buried, 
 
 only tell her, 
 The great man in the court, the brave Ful- 
 
 gentio, 
 
 Descends to visit her, and it will raise her 
 Out of the grave for joy. 
 
 Enter Fulgentio. 
 Syl. Here comes another ! 
 The devil, I fear, in his holiday clothes. 
 
 Page. So soon ! 
 My part is at an end then. Cover my 
 
 shoulders ; 
 When I grow great, thou shalt serve me. 
 
 Ful. Are you, sirrah, 
 An implement of the house ? [ To Sylli. 
 
 Syl. Sure he will make 
 A jointstool of me ! 
 
 Ful. Or, if you belong [To Ador. 
 
 To the lady of the place, command her 
 
 hither. 
 
 Ador. I do not wear her livery, yet ac- 
 knowledge 
 
 A duty to her ; and as little bound 
 To serve your peremptory will, as she is 
 
THE MAID OF HONOUR. 
 
 261 
 
 To obey your summons. 'Twill become 
 
 you, sir, 
 To wait her leisure ; then, her pleasure 
 
 known, 
 You may present your duty. 
 
 Ful. Duty! Slave, 
 I'll teach you manners. 
 
 Ador. I'm past learning ; make not 
 A tumult in the house. 
 
 Ful. Shall I be braved thus ? 
 
 [Thev draw, 
 Syl. O, I am dead ! and now I swoon. 
 
 \Falls on his face. 
 Clar. Help ! murder ! 
 Page. Recover, sirrah ; the lady's here. 
 
 Enter Camiola. 
 
 Syl. Nay, then 
 I am alive again, and I'll be valiant. 
 
 [Rises. 
 Cam. What insolence is this? Adorni, 
 
 hold, 
 
 Hold, I command you. 
 Ful. Saucy groom ! 
 Cam. Not so, sir ; 
 
 However, in his life, he had dependence 
 Upon my father, he's a gentleman, 
 As well born as yourself. Put on your hat. 
 Ful. In my presence, without leave ! 
 Syl. He has mine, madam. 
 Cam. And I must tell you, sir, and in plain 
 
 language, 
 Howe'er your glittering outside promise 
 
 gentry, 
 
 The rudeness of your carriage and behaviour 
 Speaks you a coarser thing. 
 
 Syl. She means a clown, sir ; 
 I am her interpreter, for want of a better. 
 Cam. I am a queen in mine own house ; 
 
 nor must you 
 Expect an empire here. 
 
 Syl. Sure, I must love her 
 Before the day, the pretty soul's so valiant. 
 Cam. What are you? and what would 
 
 you with me ? 
 Ful. Proud one, 
 When you know what I am, and what I 
 
 came for, 
 
 And may, on your submission, proceed to, 
 You, in your reason, must repent the coarse- 
 ness 
 Of my entertainment. 
 
 Cam. Why, fine man? what are you? 
 Ful. A kinsman of the king's. 
 Cam. I cry you mercy, 
 For his sake, not your own. But grant you 
 
 are so, 
 'Tis not impossible but a king may have 
 
 A fool to his kinsman, no way meaning 
 
 you, sir. 
 
 Ful. You have heard of Fulgentio ? 
 Cam. Long since, sir ; 
 A suit-broker in court. He has the worst 
 Report among good men I ever heard of, 
 For bribery and extortion : in their prayers, 
 Widows and orphans curse him for a canker 
 And caterpillar in the state. I hope, sir, 
 You are not the man ; much less employ 'd 
 
 by him, 
 As a smock-agent to me. 
 
 Ful. I reply not 
 
 As you deserve, being assured you know me ; 
 Pretending ignorance of my person, only 
 To give me a taste of your wit : 'tis well, and 
 
 courtly ; 
 I like a sharp wit well. 
 
 Syl. I cannot endure it ; 
 Nor any of the Syllis. 
 
 Ful. More ; I know too, 
 This harsh induction must serve as a foil 
 To the well-tuned observance and respect 
 You will hereafter pay me, being made 
 Familiar with my credit with the king, 
 And that (contain your joy) I deign to love 
 
 you. 
 
 Cam. Love me ! I am not rapt with it. 
 Ful. Hear't again ; 
 
 I love you honestly : now you admire me. 
 Cam. I do, indeed ; it being a word so 
 
 seldom 
 Heard from a courtier's mouth. But, pray 
 
 you, deal plainly, 
 Since you find me simple ; what might be 
 
 the motives 
 
 Inducing you to leave the freedom of 
 A bachelor's life, on your soft neck to wear 
 The stubborn yoke of marriage ; and, of all 
 The beauties in Palermo, to choose me, 
 Poor me ? that is the main point you must 
 
 treat of. 
 
 Ful. Why, I will tell you. Of a little thing 
 You are a pretty peat, indifferent fair too ; 
 And, like a new-rigg'd ship, both tight and 
 
 yare, 
 
 Well truss'd to bear : virgins of giant size 
 Are sluggards at the sport ; but, for my 
 
 pleasure, 
 Give me a neat well-timber 'd gamester like 
 
 you ; 
 Such need no spurs, the quickness of your 
 
 eye 
 Assures an active spirit. 
 
 Cam. You are pleasant, sir ; 
 Yet I presume that there was one thing in me, 
 Unmention'd yet, that took you more than all 
 Those parts you have remember 'd. 
 Ful. What? 
 
252 
 
 THE MAID OF 'HONOUR. 
 
 Cam. My wealth, sir. 
 Ful. You are in the right 
 beauty is 
 
 without that, 
 
 Ful. Yes, 'tis very likely, 
 His dying mother's gift, prized at 
 crown ! 
 
 A flower worn in the morning, at night trod \ By this he does command you to be mi 
 
 But beauty, youth, and fortune meeting in 
 
 you, * 
 I will vouchsafe to marry you. 
 
 Cam. You speak well ; 
 And, in return, excuse me, sir, if I 
 Deliver reasons why, upon no terms, 
 I'll marry you : I fable not. 
 
 Syl. I am glad 
 
 To hear this ; I began to have an ague. 
 Ful. Come, your wise reasons. 
 Cam. Such as they are, pray you take 
 
 them : 
 
 First, I am doubtful whether you are a man, 
 Since, for your shape, trimm'd up in a lady's 
 
 dressing, 
 
 You might pass for a woman ; now I love 
 To deal on certainties : and, for the fairness 
 Of your complexion, which you think will 
 
 "take me, 
 
 The colour, I must tell you, in a man, 
 Is weak and faint, and never will hold out, 
 If put to labour : give me the lovely brown, 
 A thick curl'd hair of the same dye, broad 
 
 shoulders, 
 
 A brawny arm full of veins, a leg without 
 An artificial calf ; I suspect yours ; 
 But let that pass. 
 
 Syl. She means me all this while, 
 For I have every one of those good parts ; 
 O Sylli ! fortunate Sylli ! 
 Cam. You are mo'ved, sir. 
 Ful. Fie ! no ; go on. 
 Cam. Then, as you are a courtier, 
 A graced one too, I fear you have been too 
 
 forward ; 
 
 And so much for your person. Rich you are, 
 Devilish rich, as ; tis reported, and sure have 
 The aids of Satan's little fiends to get it ; 
 And what is got upon his back, must be 
 Spent, you know where ; the proverb's 
 
 stale One word more, 
 And I have done. 
 
 Fnl. I'll ease you of the trouble, 
 Coy and disdainful ! 
 
 Cam. Save me, or else he'll beat me. 
 Ful. No, your own folly shall ; and, since 
 
 you put 'me 
 
 To my last charm, look upon this, and 
 
 tremble. \Shcws the king's ring. 
 
 Cam. At the sight of a fair ring ! the 
 
 king's, I take it ? 
 I have seen him wear the like : if he hath 
 
 sent it, 
 As a favour, to me 
 
 By his gift you are so : you may yet re- 
 deem all. 
 Cam. You are in a wrong account still. 
 
 Though the king may 
 Dispose of my life and goods, my mind's 
 
 mine own, 
 And never shall be yours. The king, 
 
 heaven bless him ! 
 
 Is good and gracious, and, being in himself 
 Abstemious from base and goatish loose- 
 ness, 
 Will not compel, against their wills, chaste 
 
 maidens 
 
 To dance in his minion's circles. I be- 
 lieve, 
 Forgetting it when he wash'd his hands,. 
 
 you stole it, 
 With an intent to awe me. But you are 
 
 cozen 'd ; 
 I am still myself, and will be. 
 
 Ful. A proud haggard, 
 And not to be reclaim'd ! which of your 
 
 grooms, 
 
 Your coachman, fool, or footman, ministers 
 Xight-physic to you? 
 
 Cam. You are foul-mouth'd. 
 Ful. Much fairer 
 Than thy black soul ; and so I will proclaim 
 
 thee. 
 Cam. Were I a man, thou durst not speak 
 
 this. 
 
 Ful. Heaven 
 
 So prosper me, as I resolve to do it 
 To all men, and in every place : scorn 'd by 
 A tit of ten-pence ! 
 
 [Exeunt Fulgentio and Page 
 Syl. Now I begin to be valiant : 
 Nay, I will draw my sword. O for a brother ! 
 Do a friend's part ; pray you, carry him the 
 
 length oft. 
 I give him three years and a day to match 
 
 my Toledo, 
 
 And then we'll fight like dragons. 
 Ador. Pray, have patience. 
 Cam. I may live to have vengeance : my 
 
 Bertoldo 
 Would not have heard this. 
 
 Ador. Madam 
 
 Cam. Pray you, spare 
 Your language. Prithee fool, and make me 
 merry. [To Sylli. 
 
 Syl. That is my office ever. 
 Ador. I must do. 
 
 Not talk ; this glorious gallant shall hear 
 from me. \_Exeunt. 
 
THE MAID OF HONOUR. 
 
 263 
 
 SCENE III. The Siennese. A Camp 
 before the Walls ^Sienna. 
 
 Chambers shot off : a flourish as to an As- 
 sault: after which, enter GonzagSL, Pierio, 
 Roderigo, Jacomo, and Soldiers. 
 
 Gonz. Is the breach made assaultable ? 
 
 Pier. Yes, and the moat 
 Fill'd up ; the cannoneer hath done his parts ; 
 We may enter six abreast. 
 
 Rod. There's not a man 
 Dares shew himself upon the wall. 
 
 Jac. Defeat not 
 The soldiers' hoped-for spoil. 
 
 Pier. If you, sir, 
 
 Delay the assault, and the city be given up 
 To your discretion, you in honour cannot 
 Use the extremity of war, but, in 
 Compassion to them, you to us prove cruel. 
 
 Jac. And an enemy to yourself. 
 
 Rod. A hindrance to 
 The brave revenge you have vow'd. 
 
 Gonz. Temper your heat, 
 And lose not, by too sudden rashness, that 
 Which, be but patient, will be offer'd to you. 
 Security ushers ruin ; proud contempt 
 Of an enemy three parts vanquish'd, with 
 
 desire 
 
 And greediness of spoil, have often wrested 
 A certain victory from the conqueror's gripe. 
 Discretion is the tutor of the war, 
 Valour the pupil ; and, when we command 
 With lenity, and our direction's follow 'd 
 With cheerfulness, a prosperous end must 
 
 crown 
 Our works well undertaken. 
 
 Rod. Ours are finish'd 
 
 Pier. If we make use of fortune. 
 
 Gonz. Her false smiles 
 Deprive you of your judgments. The con- 
 dition 
 
 Of our affairs exacts a double care, 
 And, like bifronted Janus, we must look 
 Backward, as forward : though a flattering 
 
 calm 
 
 Bids us urge on, a sudden tempest raised, 
 Not feared, much less expected, in our rear, 
 May foully fall upon us, and distract us 
 To our confusion. 
 
 Enter a Scout, hastily. 
 
 Our scout ! what brings 
 Thy ghastly looks, and sudden speed ? 
 
 Sco2it. The assurance 
 Of a new enemy. 
 
 Gonz. This I foresaw and fear'd. 
 What are they, know'st thou ? 
 
 Scorn. They are, by their colours, 
 
 Sicilians, bravely mounted, andthebrightness 
 Of their rich armours doubly gilded with 
 Reflection of the sun. 
 
 Gonz. From Sicily? 1 
 
 The king in league ! no war proclaim'd ! 
 
 'tis foul : 
 
 But this must be prevented, not disputed. 
 Ha, how is this ? your estridge plumes, that 
 
 but 
 Even now, like quills of porcupines, seem'd 
 
 to threaten 
 
 The stars, drop at the rumour of a shower, 
 And, like to captive colours, sweep the earth ! 
 Bear up ; but in great dangers, greater minds 
 Are never proud. Shall a few loose troops, 
 
 untrain'd 
 
 But in a customary ostentation, 
 Presented as a sacrifice to your valours, 
 Cause a dejection in you ? 
 Pier. No dejection. 
 Rod. However startled, where you lead 
 
 we'll follow. 
 Gonz. 'Tis bravely said. We will not stay 
 
 their charge, 
 But meet them man to man, and horse 
 
 horse. 
 
 Pierio, in our absence hold our place, 
 And with our foot men, and those sickly 
 
 troops, 
 
 Prevent a sally : I in mine own person, 
 With part of the cavallery, will bid 
 These hunters welcome to a bloody break- 
 fast : 
 
 But I lose time. 
 
 Pier. I'll to my charge. [Exit, 
 
 Gonz. And we 
 To ours : I'll bring you on. 
 
 Jac. If we come off, 
 It's not amiss ; if not, my state is settled. 
 
 \Excunt. Alarum within. 
 
 SCENE IV. The Same. The Citadel of 
 
 Sienna. 
 Enter Ferdinand, Druso, and Livio, on the 
 
 Walls. 
 Per. No aids from Sicily ! Hath hope 
 
 forsook us ; 
 
 And that vain comfort to affliction, pity, 
 By our vow'd friend denied us ? we can nor 
 
 live 
 
 Nor die with honour : like beasts in a toil, 
 We wait the leisure of the bloody hunter, 
 Who is not so far reconciled unto us, 
 As in one death to give a period 
 To our calamities ; but in delaying, 
 The fate we cannot fly from, starv'd with 
 
 wants, 
 
 We die this night, to live again to-morrow, 
 And suffer greater torments. 
 
THE MAID OF HONOUR. 
 
 Dru. There is not 
 
 Three days provision for every soldier, 
 At an ounce of bread a day, left in the city. 
 
 Liv. To die the beggar's death, with 
 
 hunger made 
 
 Anatomies while we live, cannot but crack 
 Our heart-strings with vexation. 
 
 Per. Would they would break, 
 Break altogether ! How willingly, like Cato, 
 Could I tear out my bowels, rather than 
 Look on the conqueror's insulting face ; 
 But that religion, and the horrid dream 
 To be suffer'd in the other world, denies it ! 
 
 Enter a Soldier. 
 
 What news with thee ? 
 
 Sold. From the turret of the fort, 
 
 By the rising clouds of dust, through which, 
 like lightning, 
 
 The splendour of bright arms sometimes 
 brake through, 
 
 I did descry some forces making towards us ; 
 
 And, from the camp, as emulous of their glory, 
 
 The general, (for I know him by his horse,) 
 
 And bravely seconded, encounter'd them. 
 
 Their greetings were too rough for friends ; 
 their swords, 
 
 And not their tongues, exchanging cour- 
 tesies. 
 
 By this the main battalias are join'd ; 
 
 And, if you please to be spectators of 
 
 The horrid issue, I will bring you where, 
 
 As in a theatre, you may see their fates 
 
 In purple gore presented. 
 Fer. Heaven, if yet 
 
 Thou art appeased for my wrong done to 
 Aurelia, 
 
 Take pity of my miseries ! Lead the way, 
 friend. {Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE V.The same. A Plain near the 
 Camp. 
 
 A long Charge : after which, a Flourish for 
 victory; then enter Gonzaga, Jacomo, and 
 Roderigo wounded; Bertoldo, Gasparo, 
 and Antonio Prisoners. Officers and 
 Soldiers. 
 Gonz. We have them yet, though they 
 
 cost us dear. This was 
 Charged home, and bravely follow'd. Be 
 to yourselves 
 
 [ To Jacomo and Roderigo. 
 True mirrors to each other's worth ; and, 
 
 looking 
 With noble emulation on his wounds, 
 
 [Points to Bert. 
 
 The glorious livery of triumphant war, 
 Imagine these with equal grace appear 
 
 Upon yourselves. The bloody sweat you 
 
 have suffer'd 
 
 In this laborious, nay, toilsome harvest, 
 Yields a rich crop of conquest ; and the spoil, 
 Most precious balsam to a soldier's hurts, 
 Will ease and cure them. Let me look upon 
 [Gasparo and Antonio are brought 
 
 forward. 
 
 The prisoners' faces. Oh, how much trans- 
 form 'd 
 From what they were ! O Mars ! were these 
 
 toys fashion'd 
 
 To undergo the burthen of thy service ? 
 The weight of their defensive armour bruised 
 Their weak effeminate limbs, and would 
 
 have forced them, 
 
 In a hot day, without a blow to yield. 
 Ant. This insultation shews not manly in 
 
 you. 
 Gonz. To men I had forborne it ; you 
 
 are women, 
 Or, at the best, loose carpet-knights. What 
 
 fury 
 
 Seduced you to exchange your ease in court, 
 For labour in the field ? perhaps, you thought 
 To charge, through dust and blood, an 
 
 armed foe, 
 
 Was but like graceful running at the ring 
 For a wanton mistress' glove ; and the en- 
 counter, 
 
 A soft impression on her lips : but you 
 Are gaudy butterflies, and I wrong myself 
 In parling with you. 
 
 Gasp. V<z victis ! now we prove it. 
 Rod. But here's one fashion'd in another 
 
 mould, 
 And made of tougher metal. 
 
 Gonz. True ; I owe him 
 For this wound bravely given. 
 
 Bert. O that mountains 
 Were heap'd upon me, that I might expire, 
 A wretch no more remember'd ! {Aside. 
 
 Gonz. Look up, sir ; 
 
 To be o'ercome deserves no shame. If you 
 Had fallen ingloriously, or could accuse 
 Your want of courage in resistance, 'twere 
 To be lamented : but, since you perform'd 
 As much as could be hoped for from a man, 
 (Fortune his enemy,) you wrong yourself 
 In this dejection. I am honour'd in 
 My victory over you ; but to have these 
 My prisoners, is, in my true judgment, rather 
 Captivity than a triumph : you shall find 
 Fair quarter from me, and your many 
 
 wounds, 
 
 Which I hope are not mortal, with such care 
 Look'd to and cured, as if your nearest friend 
 Attended on you. 
 
 Bert. When you know me better, 
 
THE MAID OF HONOUR. 
 
 265 
 
 You will make void this promise : can you 
 
 call me 
 Into your memory? 
 
 Gonz. The brave Bertoldo ! 
 A brother of our order ! By St. John, 
 Our holy patron, I am more amazed, 
 Nay, thunderstruck with thy apostacy, 
 And precipice from the most solemn vows 
 Made unto heaven, when this, the glorious 
 
 badge 
 
 Of our Redeemer, was conferr'd upon thee 
 By the great master, than if I had seen 
 A reprobate Jew, an atheist, Turk, or Tartar, 
 Baptized in our religion ! 
 
 Bert. This I look'd for ; 
 And am resolv'd to suffer. 
 
 Gonz. Fellow-soldiers, 
 Behold this man, and, taught by his example, 
 Know that 'tis safer far to play with light- 
 ning, 
 Than trifle in things sacred. In my rage 
 
 [ Weeps. 
 
 I shed these at the funeral of his virtue, 
 Faith, and religion : why, I will tell you ; 
 He was a gentleman so train'd up and 
 
 fash ion" d 
 
 For noble uses, and his youth did promise 
 Such certainties, more than hopes, of great 
 
 achievements, 
 
 As if the Christian world had stood opposed 
 Against the Othoman race, to try the fortune 
 Of one encounter, this Bertoldo had been, 
 For his knowledge to direct, and matchless 
 
 courage 
 
 To execute, without a rival, by 
 The votes of good men, chosen general ; 
 As the prime soldier, and most deserving 
 Of all that wear the cross : which now, in 
 
 justice, 
 I thus tear from him. 
 
 Bert. Let me die with it 
 Upon my breast. 
 
 Gonz. No ; by this thou wert sworn, 
 On all occasions, as a knight, to guard 
 Weak ladies from oppression, and never 
 To draw thy sword against them ; whereas 
 
 thou, 
 
 In hope of gain or glory, when a princess, 
 And such a princess as Aurelia is, 
 Was dispossess'd by violence, of what was 
 Her true inheritance ; against thine oath 
 Hast, to thy uttermost, labour 'd to uphold 
 Her falling enemy. But thou shalt pay 
 A heavy forfeiture, and learn too late, 
 Valour employ 'd in an ill quarrel, turns 
 To cowardice, and Virtue then puts on 
 Foul Vice's visor. This is that which cancels 
 All friendship's bands between us. Bear 
 
 them off; 
 
 I will hear no reply : and let the ransome 
 Of these, for they are yours, be highly rated. 
 In this I do but right, and let it be 
 Styled justice, and not wilful cruelty. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 SCENE I. The same. A Camp before the 
 Walls of Sienna.. . 
 
 Enter Gonzaga, Astutio, Roderigo, and 
 Jacomo. 
 
 Gonz. What I have done, sir, by the law 
 
 of arms 
 I can and will make good. 
 
 Ast. I have no commission 
 To expostulate the act. These letters speak 
 The king my master's love to you, and his 
 Vow'd service to the dutchess, on whose 
 
 person 
 I am to give attendance. 
 
 Gonz. At this instant, 
 
 She's at Fienza : you may spare the trouble 
 Of riding thither : I have advertised her 
 Of our success, and on what humble terms 
 Sienna stands : though presently I can 
 Possess it, I defer it, that she may 
 Enter her own, and, as she please, dispose of 
 The prisoners and the spoil. 
 
 Ast. I thank you, sir. 
 In the mean time, if I may have your license, 
 I have a nephew, and one once my ward, 
 For whose liberties and ransomes I would 
 
 gladly 
 Make composition. 
 
 Gonz. They are, as I take it, 
 Call'd Gasparo and Antonio. 
 
 Ast. The same, sir. 
 
 Gonz. For them, you must treat with 
 
 these : but, for Bertoldo, 
 He is mine own ; if the king will ransom him, 
 He pays down fifty thousand crowns ; if not, 
 He lives and dies my slave. 
 
 Ast. Pray you, a word : [Aside to Gonz. 
 The king will rather thank you to detain him, 
 Than give one crown to free him. 
 
 Gonz. At his pleasure. 
 I'll send the prisoners under guard : my 
 
 business 
 Calls me another way. [Exit. 
 
 Ast. My service waits you. 
 Now, gentlemen, do not deal like merchants 
 
 with me, 
 But noble captains ; you know, in great 
 
 minds, 
 Posse et nolle, nobile. 
 
 Rod. Pray you, speak 
 Our language. 
 
265 
 
 THE MAID OF- HONOUR. 
 
 Jac. I find not, in my commission, 
 An officer's bound to speak or understand 
 " lore than his mother-tongue. 
 
 Rod. If he speak that 
 After midnight, 'tis remarkable. 
 
 Ast. In plain terms, then, 
 Antonio is your prisoner ; Gasparo, yours. 
 Jac. You are in the right. 
 Ast. At what sum do you rate 
 Their several ransomes ? 
 
 Rod. I must make my market 
 As the commodity cost me. 
 
 Ast. As it cost you ! 
 You did not buy your captainship? your 
 
 desert, 
 [ hope, advanced you. 
 
 Rod. How ! It well appears 
 You are no soldier. Desert in these days ! 
 Desert may make a serjeant to a colonel, 
 And it may hinder him from rising higher ; 
 But, if it ever get a company, 
 A company, pray you mark me, without 
 
 money, 
 Or private service done for the general's 
 
 mistress, 
 
 With a com mendatory epistle from her, 
 I will turn lanceprezado. 
 
 Jac . Pray you observe, sir : 
 I serv'd two prenticeships, just fourteen years, 
 Trailing the puissant pike, and half so long 
 Had the right-hand file ; and I fought well, 
 
 'twas said, too : 
 But I might have serv'd, and fought, and 
 
 serv'd till doomsday, 
 And ne'er have carried a flag, but for the 
 
 legacy 
 A bucksonie widow of threescore bequeath d 
 
 me ; 
 And that too, my back knows, I labour'd 
 
 hard for, 
 But was better paid. 
 
 Ast. You are merry with yourselves : 
 But this is from the purpose. 
 
 Rod. To the point then. 
 Prisoners are not ta'en every day ; and, when 
 We have them, we must make'the best use 
 
 of them. 
 
 Our pay is little to the port we should bear, 
 And that so long a coming, that 'tis spent 
 Before we have it, and hardly wipes off 
 
 scores 
 At the tavern and the ordinary. 
 
 Jac. You may add, too, 
 Our sport ta'en up on trust. 
 
 Rod. Peace, thou smock vermin ! 
 Discover commanders' secrets ! In a word 
 
 sir, 
 
 We have inquired, and found our prisoners 
 rich: 
 
 Two thousand crowns apiece our companies 
 
 cost us ; 
 
 \nd so much each of us will have, and that 
 n present pay. 
 
 Jac. It is too little : yet, 
 Since you have said the word, I am content ; 
 But will not go a gazet less. 
 
 Ast. Since you are not 
 To be brought lower, there is no evading ; 
 I'll be your paymaster. 
 
 Rod. We desire no better. 
 
 Ast. But not a word of what's agreed be- 
 tween us, 
 Till I have school'd my gallants. 
 
 Jac. I am dumb, sir. 
 
 Enter a Guard with Bertoldo, Antonio, and 
 Gasparo, in irons. 
 
 Bert. And where removed now ? hath the 
 
 tyrant found out 
 Worse usage for us ? 
 
 Ant. Worse it cannot be. 
 My greyhound has fresh straw, and scraps, 
 
 in his kennel ; 
 But we have neither. 
 
 Gasp. Did I ever think 
 To wear such garters on silk stockings ? or 
 That my too curious appetite, that turn'd 
 At the sight of godwits, pheasant, partridge, 
 
 quails, 
 Larks, woodcocks, calver'd salmon, as 
 
 coarse diet, 
 Would leap at a mouldy crust ? 
 
 Ant. And go without it, 
 So oft as I do ? Oh ! how have I jeer'd 
 The city entertainment ! A huge shoulder 
 Of glorious fat ram-mutton, seconded 
 With a pair of tame cats or conies, a crab- 
 tart, 
 
 With a worthy loin of veal, and valiant capon, 
 Mortified to grow tender ! these I scorn'd, 
 From their plentiful horn of abundance, 
 
 though invited : 
 But now I could carry my own stool to a 
 
 tripe, 
 And call their chitterlings charity, and bless 
 
 the founder. 
 
 Bert. O that I were no further sensible 
 Of my miseries than you are ! you, like 
 
 beasts, 
 
 Feel only stings of hunger, and complain not 
 But when you're empty : but your narrow 
 
 souls 
 
 (If you have any) cannot comprehend 
 How insupportable the torments are, 
 Which a free and noble soul, made captive, 
 
 suffers. 
 Most miserable men ! and what am I, 
 
 then, 
 
THE MAID OF HONOUR. 
 
 That envy you ? Fetters, though made of 
 
 gold, 
 
 Express base thraldom : and all delicates 
 Prepared by Median cooks for epicures, 
 When not our own, are bitter ; quilts fill'd 
 
 high 
 
 With gossamere and roses, cannot yield 
 The body soft repose, the mind kept waking 
 With anguish and affliction. 
 
 Ast. My good lord 
 
 Bert. This is no time nor place for flat- 
 tery, sir : 
 
 Pray you, style me as I am, a wretch for- 
 saken 
 
 Of the world, as myself. 
 Ast. I would it were 
 In me to help you. 
 
 Bert. If that you want power, sir, 
 Lip-comfort cannot cure me. Pray you, 
 
 leave me 
 
 To mine own private thoughts. [ Walks by. 
 Ast. [Comes fotward.} My valiant ne- 
 phew ! 
 And my more than warlike ward ! I am 
 
 glad to see you, 
 After your glorious conquests. Are these 
 
 chains, 
 
 Rewards for your good service ? if they are 
 You should wear them on your necks, since 
 
 they are massy, 
 Like aldermen of the war. 
 Ant. You jeer us too ! 
 Gasp. Good uncle, name not, as you are 
 
 a man of honour, 
 
 That fatal word of war ; the very sound of it 
 Is more dreadful than a cannon. 
 
 Ant. But redeem us 
 
 From this captivity, and I'll vow hereafter 
 Never to wear a sword, or cut my meat 
 With a knife that has an edge or point ; I'll 
 
 starve first. 
 Gasp. I will cry broom, or cat's-meat, in 
 
 Palermo ; 
 
 Turn porter, carry burthens, anything, 
 Rather than live a soldier. 
 Ast. This should have 
 Been thought upon before. At what price, 
 
 think you, 
 Your two wise heads are rated ? 
 
 Ant. A calf's head is 
 More worth than mine ; I'm sure it has more 
 
 brains in't, 
 Or I had ne'er come here. 
 
 Rod. And I will eat it 
 With bacon, if I have not speedy ransom e. 
 Ant. And a little garlick too, for your 
 
 own sake, sir : 
 
 Twill boil in your stomach else. 
 Gasp. Beware of mine, 
 
 Or the horns may choak you ; I am married, 
 sir. 
 
 Ant. You shall have my row of houses 
 near the palace. 
 
 Gasp. And my villa ; all 
 
 Ant. All that we have. 
 
 Ast. Well, have more wit hereafter ; for 
 
 this time, 
 You are ransomed. 
 
 Jac. Off with their irons. 
 
 Rod. Do, do : 
 If you are ours again, you know your price. 
 
 Ant. Pray you dispatch us : I shall ne'er 
 
 believe 
 
 I am a free man, till I set my foot 
 In Sicily again, and drink Palermo, 
 And in Palermo too. 
 
 Ast. The wind sits fair, 
 You shall aboard to-night : with the rising sun 
 You may touch upon the coast. But take 
 
 your leaves 
 Of the late general first. 
 
 Gasp. I will be brief. 
 
 Ant. And I. My lord, heaven keep you ! 
 
 Gasp. Yours, to use 
 
 In the way of peace ; but as your soldiers, 
 never. 
 
 Ant. A pox of war ! no more of war. 
 
 [Exeunt Rod. Jac. Ant. and Gasp. 
 
 Bert. Have you 
 
 Authority to loose their bonds, yet leave 
 The brother of your king, whose worth dis- 
 dains 
 
 Comparison with such as these, in irons? 
 If ransome may redeem them, I have lands, 
 A patrimony of mine own, assign'd me 
 By my deceased sire, to satisfy 
 Whate'er can be demanded for my freedom. 
 
 Ast. I wish you had, sir ; but the king,. 
 
 who yields 
 
 No reason for his will, in his displeasure 
 Hathseized on all you had ; nor will Gonzaga, 
 Whose prisoner now you are, accept of less 
 Than fifty thousand crowns. 
 
 Bert. I find it now, 
 
 That misery never comes alone. But, grant \ 
 The king is yet inexorable, time 
 May work him to a feeling of my sufferings, j 
 I have friends that swore their lives and for- ! 
 
 tunes were 
 
 At my devotion, and, among the rest, 
 Yourself, my lord, when forfeited to the law 
 For a foul murder, and in cold blood done, 
 I made your life my gift, and reconciled you 
 To this incensed king, and got your pardon. 
 Beware ingratitude. I know you are rich, 
 And may pay down the sum. 
 
 Ast. I might, my lord ; 
 But pardon me. 
 
THE MAID OF HONOUR. 
 
 
 Bert. And will Astutio prove, then, 
 To please a passionate man, (the king's no 
 
 more,) 
 
 False to his maker, and his reason, which 
 Commands more than I ask ? O summer- 
 friendship, 
 Whose flattering leaves, that shadow'd us in 
 
 our 
 
 Prosperity, with the least gust drop off 
 In the autumn of adversity ! How like 
 A prison is to a grave ! when dead, we are 
 With solemn pomp brought thither, and our 
 
 heirs, 
 
 Masking their joy in false, dissembled tears, 
 Weep o'er the herse ; but earth no sooner 
 
 covers 
 The earth brought thither, but they turn 
 
 away, 
 With inward smiles, the dead no more re- 
 
 member'd : 
 
 So, enter'd in a prison 
 
 Ast. My occasions 
 Command me hence, my lord. 
 
 Bert. Pray you, leave me, do ; 
 And tell the cruel king, that I will wear 
 These fetters till my flesh and they are one 
 Incorporated substance. [Exit Astutio.] In 
 
 myself, 
 
 As in a glass, I'll look on human frailty, 
 And curse the height of royal blood : since I, 
 In being born near to Jove, am near his 
 
 thunder. 
 
 Cedars once shaken with a storm, their own 
 Weight grubs their roots out. Lead me 
 
 where you please ; 
 
 I am his, not fortune's martyr, and will die 
 The great example of his cruelty. 
 
 [Exit guarded. 
 
 SCENE II. Palermo. A Grove near 
 
 the Palace. 
 Enter Adorni. 
 Ador. He undergoes my challenge, and 
 
 A tributary duty. 
 To give, if my in 
 
 I'll have something 
 telligence prove true, 
 
 contemns it, 
 
 And threatens me with the late edict made 
 'Gainst duellists, the altar cowards fly to. 
 But I, that am engaged, and nourish in me 
 A higher aim than fair Camiola dreams of, 
 Must not sit down thus. In the court I 
 
 dare not 
 
 Attempt him ; and in public, he's so guarded, 
 With a herd of parasites, clients, fools, and 
 
 suitors, 
 That a musket cannot reach 
 
 designs 
 
 Admit of no delay. This is her birthday, 
 Which, with a fit and due solemnity, 
 Camioia celebrates : and on it, all such 
 As love or serve her usually present 
 
 Shall find acceptance. I am told, near this 
 
 grove 
 
 Fulgentio, every morning, makes his markets 
 With his petitioners ; I may present him 
 With a sharp petition ! Ha ! 'tis he : my 
 
 fate 
 Be ever bless'd for't ! 
 
 Enter Fulgentio and Page. 
 Ful. Command such as wait me 
 Not to presume, at the least for half an hour, 
 To press on my retirements. 
 
 Page. I will say, sir, 
 You are at your prayers. 
 
 Ful. That will not find belief ; 
 Courtiers have something else to do : be 
 gone, sir. [Exit Page. 
 
 Challenged ! 'tis well ; and by a groom ! still 
 
 better. 
 Was this shape made to fight? I have a 
 
 tongue yet, 
 
 Howe'er no sword, to kill him ; and what way, 
 This morning I'll resolve of. [Exit. 
 
 Ador. I shall cross 
 Your resolution, or suffer for you. 
 
 [Exit following him. 
 
 SCENE III. The same. A Room in 
 
 Camiola's House. 
 Enter Camiola, followed by Servants with 
 
 Presents ; Sylli, and Clarinda. 
 Syl. What are all these ? 
 Clar. Servants with several presents, 
 And rich ones too. 
 
 1 Serv. With her best wishes, madam, 
 Of many such days to you, the lady Petula 
 Presents you with this fan. 
 
 2 Serv. This diamond, 
 From your aunt Honoria. 
 
 3 Serv. This piece of plate 
 
 From your uncle, old Vicentio, with your 
 
 arms 
 Graven upon it. 
 
 Cam. Good friends, they are too 
 Munificent in their love and favour to me. 
 Out of my cabinet return such jewels 
 As this directs you: [To Clarinda.] for 
 
 your pains ; and yours ; 
 Nor must you be forgotten. 
 
 [Gives them money. 
 Honour me 
 him : my With the drinking of a health. 
 
 1 Serv. Gold, on my life ! 
 
 2 Serv. She scorns to give base silver. 
 
 3 Serv. Would she had been 
 Born every month in the year ! 
 
 i Serv. Month ! every day. 
 
THE MAID OF HONOUR. 
 
 269. 
 
 2 Serv. Shew such another maid. 
 
 3 Serv. All happiness wait you ! 
 Clar. I'll see your will done. 
 
 [Exeunt Sylli, Clarinda, and Servants. 
 
 Enter Adorni wounded. 
 
 Cam. How, Adorni wounded ! 
 
 A dor. A scratch got in your service, else 
 
 not worth 
 
 Your observation : I bring not, madam, 
 In honour of your birthday, antique plate, 
 Or pearl, for which, the savage Indian dives 
 Into the bottom of the sea ; nor diamonds 
 Hewn from steep rocks with danger. Such 
 
 as give 
 To those that have, what they themselves 
 
 want, aim at 
 
 A glad return with profit : yet, despise not 
 My offering at the altar of your favour ; 
 Nor let the lowness of the giver lessen 
 The height of what's presented ; since it is 
 A precious jewel, almost forfeited, 
 And dimm'd with clouds of infamy, redeem'd, 
 And, in its natural splendour, with addition 
 Restored to the true owner. 
 Cam. How is this ? 
 Ador. Not to hold you in suspense, I 
 
 bring you, madam, 
 
 Your wounded reputation cured, the sting 
 Of virulent malice, festering your fair name, 
 Pluck'd out and trod on. That proud man, 
 
 that was 
 
 Denied the honour of your bed, yet durst, 
 With his untrue reports, strumpet your fame, 
 Compell'd by me, hath given himself the lie, 
 And in his own blood wrote it : you may 
 
 read 
 
 Fulgentio subscribed. [Offering a paper. 
 Cam. I am amazed ! 
 Ador. It does deserve it, madam. Common 
 
 service 
 
 Is fit for hinds, and the reward proportion'd 
 To their conditions : therefore, look not on me 
 As a follower of your father's fortunes, or 
 One that subsists on yours : you frown ! 
 
 my service 
 Merits not this aspect. 
 
 Cam. Which of my favours, 
 I might say bounties, hath begot and 
 
 nourish'd 
 This more than rude presumption ? Since 
 
 you had 
 
 An itch to try your desperate valour, where- 
 fore 
 Went you not to the war? Couldst thou 
 
 suppose 
 
 My innocence could ever fall so low 
 As to have need of thy rash sword to guard it 
 Against malicious slander? O how much 
 
 Those ladies are deceived and cheated, when 
 The clearness and integrity of their actions 
 Do not defend themselves, and stand secure 
 On their own bases ! Such as in a colour 
 Of seeming service give protection to them, 
 Betray their own strengths. Malice scorn'd, 
 
 puts out 
 
 Itself ; but argued, gives a kind of credit 
 To a false accusation. In this, your 
 Most memorable service, you believed 
 You did me right ; but you have wrong'd ma- 
 more 
 
 In your defence of my undoubted honour,. 
 Than false Fulgentio could. 
 
 Ador. I am sorry what was 
 So well intended is so ill received ; 
 
 Re-enter Clarinda. 
 
 Yet, under your correction, you wish'd 
 Bertoldo had been present. 
 
 Cam. True, I did : 
 But he and you, sir, are not parallels, 
 Nor must you think yourself so. 
 
 Ador. I am what 
 You'll please to have me. 
 Cam. If Bertoldo had 
 Punish'd Fulgentio's insolence, it had shewn 
 His love to her whom, in his judgment, he 
 Vouchsafed to make his wife ; a height, I 
 
 hope, 
 Which you dare not aspire to. The same 
 
 actions 
 
 Suit not all men alike ; but I perceive 
 Repentance in your looks. For this time,, 
 
 leave me ; 
 
 I may forgive, perhaps forget, your folly : 
 Conceal yourself till this storm be blown over. 
 You will be sought for ; yet, if my estate 
 
 [Gives him her hand to kiss. 
 Can hinder it, shall not suffer in my service. 
 Ador. This is something yet, though I 
 miss'd the mark I shot at. 
 
 [Aside, and exit. 
 
 Cam. This gentleman is of anoble temper ; 
 And I too harsh, perhaps, in my reproof : 
 Was I not, Clarinda? 
 
 Clar. I am not to censure 
 Your actions, madam ; but there are a 
 
 thousand 
 
 Ladies, and of good fame, in such a cause 
 Would be proud of such a servant. 
 Cam. It may be ; 
 
 Enter a Servant. 
 Let me offend in this kind. Why, uncall'd 
 
 for? 
 
 Serv. The signiors, madam, Gasparo and 
 Antonio, 
 
THE MAID OF HONOUR. 
 
 Selected friends of the renown'd Bertoldo, 
 Put ashore this morning. 
 
 Cam. Without him ? 
 
 Serv. I think so. 
 
 Cam. Never think more then. 
 
 Scrv. They have been at court, 
 Kiss'd the king's hand ; and, their first duties 
 
 done 
 
 To him, appear ambitious to tender 
 j To you their second service. 
 
 Cam. Wait them hither. [Exit Servant. 
 Fear, do not rack me ! Reason, now, if ever, 
 Haste with thy aids, and tell me, such a 
 
 wonder 
 
 As my Bertoldo, is, with such care fashion 'd, 
 Must not, nay, cannot, in heaven's providence 
 
 Enter Antonio and Gasparo. 
 
 So soon miscarry ! pray you, forbear ; ere 
 
 you take 
 
 The privilege, as strangers, to salute me, 
 (Excuse my manners,) make me first under- 
 stand 
 How it is with Bertoldo. 
 
 Gasp. The relation 
 Will not, I fear, deserve your thanks. 
 
 Ant. I wish 
 : Some other should inform you. 
 
 Cam. Is he dead ? 
 'You see, though with some fear, I dare 
 
 enquire it. 
 Gasp. Dead ! Would that were the worst ; 
 
 a debt were paid then, 
 Kings in their birth owe nature. 
 
 Cam. Is there aught 
 More terrible than death ? 
 
 Ant. Yes, to a spirit 
 j Like his ; cruel imprisonment, and that 
 Without the hope of freedom. 
 
 Cam. You abuse me : 
 The royal king cannot, in love to virtue, 
 (Though all springs of affection were dried 
 
 "P.) 
 But pay his ransome. 
 
 Gasp. When you know what 'tis, 
 You will think otherwise : no less will do it 
 Than fifty thousand crowns. 
 
 Cam. A petty sum, 
 The price weigh'd with the purchase : fifty 
 
 thousand ! 
 To the king 'tis nothing. He that can spare 
 
 more 
 To his minion for a masque, cannot but 
 
 ransome 
 
 Such a brother at a million. You wrong 
 The king's magnificence. 
 Ant. In your opinion ; 
 But 'tis most certain : he does not alone 
 
 In himself refuse to pay it, but forbids 
 All other men. 
 
 Cam. Are you sure of this ? 
 Gasp. You may read 
 
 The edict to that purpose, publish 'd by him; 
 That will resolve you. 
 
 Cam. Possible ! pray you, stand off. 
 If I do not mutter treason to myself, 
 My heart will break ; and yet I will not 
 
 curse him ; 
 He is my king. The news you have de- 
 
 liver'd 
 Makes me weary of your company ; we'll 
 
 salute 
 When we meet next. I'll bring you to the 
 
 door. 
 Nay, pray you, no more compliments. 
 
 Gasp. One thing more, 
 And that's substantial : let your Adorni 
 Look to himself. 
 
 Ant. The king is much incensed 
 Against him for Fulgentio. 
 
 Cam. As I am, 
 For your slowness to depart. 
 Both. Farewell, sweet lady. 
 
 [Exeunt Gasparo and Antonio. 
 Cam. O more than impious times ! when 
 
 not alone 
 
 Subordinate ministers of justice are 
 Corrupted and seduced, but kings themselves, 
 The greater wheels by which the lesser move, 
 Are broken, or disjointed ! could it be, else, 
 A king, to sooth his politic ends, should so 
 
 far 
 
 Forsake his honour, as at once to break 
 The adamant chains of nature and religion, 
 To bind up atheism, as a defence 
 To his dark counsels ? Will it ever be, 
 That to deserve too much is dangerous, 
 And virtue, when too eminent, a crime ? 
 Must she serve fortune still, or, when 
 
 stripp'd of 
 Her gay and glorious favours, lose the 
 
 beauties 
 
 Of her own natural shape? O, my Bertoldo, 
 Thou only sun in honour's sphere, how soon 
 Art thou eclipsed and darken'd ! not the 
 
 nearness 
 
 Of blood prevailing on the king ; nor all 
 The benefits to the general good dispens'd, 
 Gaining a retribution ! But that 
 To owe a courtesy to a simple virgin 
 Would take from the deserving, I find in me 
 Some sparks of fire, which, fann'd with 
 
 honour's breath, 
 
 Might rise into a flame, and in men darken 
 Their usurp'd splendour. Ha ! my aim is 
 
 high, 
 And, for the honour of my sex, to fall so, 
 
THE MAID OF HONOUR. 
 
 271 
 
 Can never prove inglorious. Tis resolv'd : 
 Call in Adorrii. 
 
 Clar. I am happy in 
 Such an employment, madam. {Exit. 
 
 Cam. He's a man, 
 
 I know, that at a reverent distance loves me ; 
 And such are ever faithful. What a sea 
 Of melting ice I walk on ! what strange 
 
 censures 
 
 Am I to undergo ! but good intents 
 Deride all future rumours. 
 
 Re-enter Clarinda with Adorni. 
 
 A dor. I obey 
 | Your summons^ madam. 
 
 Cam. Leave the place, Clarinda ; 
 One woman, in a secret of such weight, 
 Wise men may think too much : {Exit 
 
 Clarinda.] nearer, Adorni. 
 I warrant it with a smile. 
 
 Ador. I cannot ask 
 j :Safer protection ; what's your will ? 
 
 Cam. To doubt 
 ; Your ready desire to serve me, or prepare you 
 
 With the repetition of former merits, 
 i Would, in my diffidence, wrong you : but I 
 
 will, 
 
 i And without circumstance, in the trust that I 
 Impose upon you, free you from suspicion. 
 Ador. I foster none of you. 
 Cam. I know you do not. 
 
 You are, Adomi, by the love you owe me 
 
 Ador. The surest conjuration. 
 
 Cam. Take me with you, 
 
 | Love born of duty ; but advance no further. 
 ! You are, sir, as I said, to do me service, 
 i To undertake a task, in which your faith, 
 Judgment, discretion in a word, your all 
 That's good, must be engaged ; nor must 
 
 you study, 
 
 i In the execution, but what may make 
 For the ends I aim at. 
 Ador. They admit no rivals. 
 Cam. You answer well. You have heard 
 
 of Bertoldo's 
 
 Captivity, and the king's neglect ; the great- 
 ness 
 Of his ransom ; fifty thousand crowns, 
 
 Adorni ; 
 Two parts of my estate ! 
 
 Ador. To what tends this ? [Aside. 
 
 Cam. Yet I so love the gentleman, for to 
 
 you 
 
 I will confess my weakness, that I purpose 
 Now, when he is forsaken by the king, 
 And his own hopes, to ransom him, and 
 receive him 
 
 Into my bosom, as my lawful husband 
 
 Why change you colour? 
 
 Ador. 'Tis in wonder of 
 Your virtue, madam. 
 
 Cam. You must, therefore, to 
 Sienna for me, and pay to Gonzaga 
 This ransome for his liberty ; you shall 
 Have bills of exchange along with you.' 
 
 Let him swear 
 
 A solemn contract to me ; for you must be 
 My principal witness, if he should but why 
 Do I entertain these jealousies ? You will 
 
 do this ? 
 
 Ador. Faithfully, madam but not live 
 
 long after. [Aside. 
 
 Cam. One thing I had forgot : besides 
 
 his freedom, 
 
 He may want accommodations ; furnish him 
 According to his birth : and from Camiola 
 Deliver this kiss, printed on your lips, 
 
 {Kisses him. 
 Seal'd on his hand. You shall not see my 
 
 blushes : 
 I'll instantly dispatch you. {Exit. 
 
 Ador. I am half 
 Hang'd out o' the way already. Was there 
 
 ever 
 
 Poor lover so employ'd against himself, 
 To make way for his rival ? I must do it. 
 Nay, more, I will. If loyalty can find 
 Recompense beyond hope or imagination, 
 Let it fall on me in the other world, 
 As a reward, for in this I dare not hope it. 
 
 {Exit. 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 SCENE 1. The Siennese. A Camp before 
 
 the Walls fl/" Sienna 
 Enter Gonzaga, Pierio, Roderigo, and 
 
 Jacomo. 
 Gonz. You have seized upon the citadel, 
 
 and disarm'd 
 All that could make resistance ? 
 
 Pier. Hunger had 
 Done that, before we came ; nor was the 
 
 soldier 
 Compell'd to seek for prey; the famish 'd 
 
 wretches, 
 
 In hope of mercy, as a sacrifice offer'd 
 All that was worth the taking. 
 
 Gonz. You proclaim'd, 
 On pain of death, no violence should be 
 
 offer'd 
 To any woman ? 
 
 Rod. But it needed not ; 
 For faminehad so humbled them, and ta'en off 
 The care of their sex's honour, that there 
 
 was not 
 So coy a beauty in the town, but would, 
 
272 
 
 THE MAID OF'HONOUR, 
 
 For half a. mouldy biscuit, sell herself 
 To a poor bisognion, and without shrieking. 
 Gonz. Where is the duke of Urbin ? 
 Jac. Under guard, 
 As you directed. 
 
 Gonz. See the soldiers set 
 In rank and file, and, as the dutchess passes, 
 Bid them vail their ensigns ; and charge 
 
 them on their lives, 
 Not to cry Whores ! 
 
 Jac. The devil cannot fright them 
 From their military license. Though they 
 
 know 
 They are her subjects, and will part with 
 
 being, 
 
 To do her service ; yet, since she's a woman, 
 They will touch at her breech with their 
 
 tongues ; and that is all 
 That they can hope for. 
 
 [A shout, and a general cry within, 
 
 Whores ! whores ! 
 Gonz. O the devil ! they are at it. 
 Hell stop their brawling throats. Again! 
 
 make up, 
 And cudgel them into jelly. 
 
 Rod. To no purpose, 
 
 Though their mothers were there, they 
 would have the same name for them. 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE II. The same. Another Part of 
 
 the Camp. 
 
 i Loud music. Enter Roderigo, Jacomo, 
 Pierio, Gonzaga, and Aurelia under a 
 Canopy. Astutio presents her -with letters. 
 Gonz. I do beseech your highness not to 
 
 ascribe, 
 To the want of discipline, the barbarous 
 
 rudeness 
 
 Of the soldier, in his profanation of 
 Your sacred name and virtues. 
 
 Aurel. No, lord general ; 
 I've heard my father say oft, 'twas a custom 
 Usual in the camp ; nor are they to be 
 
 punish'd 
 For words, that have, in fact, deserved so 
 
 well : 
 
 Let the one excuse the other. 
 All. Excellent princess ! 
 Aurel. But for these aids from Sicily sent 
 
 against us, 
 
 To blast our spring of conquest in the bud ; 
 I cannot find, my lord ambassador, 
 How we should entertain't but as a wrong, 
 With purpose to detain us from our own, 
 Howe'er the king endeavours, in his letters, 
 To mitigate the affront. 
 
 Ast. Your grace hereafter 
 May hear from me such strong assurances 
 
 Of his unlimited desires to serve you, 
 As will, I hope, drown in forgetfulness 
 The memory of what's past. 
 
 Aurel. We shall take time 
 To search the depth of 't further, and pro- 
 ceed 
 As our council shall direct us. 
 
 Gonz. We present you 
 
 With the keys of the city ; all lets are remov'd,. 
 Your way is smooth and easy ; at your feet 
 Your proudest enemy falls. 
 
 Aurel. We thank your valours : 
 A victory without blood is twice achieved, 
 And the disposure of it, to us tender'd, 
 The greatest honour. Worthy captains, 
 
 thanks ! 
 
 My love extends itself to all. 
 Gonz. Make way there. 
 
 \A Guard drawn up; Aurelia passes, 
 through them. Loud music. 
 
 \Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE III. Sienna. A Room in the 
 Prison. 
 
 Bertoldo is discovered in fetters, reading. 
 
 Bert. Tis here determined, (great ex- 
 amples, arni'd 
 
 With arguments, produced to make it good,)' 
 That neither tyrants, nor the wrested laws, 
 The people's frantic rage, sad exile, want, 
 Nor that which I endure, captivity, 
 Can do a wise man any injury. 
 Thus Seneca, when he wrote, thought. But 
 
 then 
 
 Felicity courted him ; his wealth exceeding 
 A private man's ; happy in the embraces 
 Of his chaste wife Paulina ; his house full 
 Of children, clients, servants, flattering- 
 friends, 
 
 Soothing his lip-positions ; and created 
 Prince of the senate, by the general voice, 
 At his new pupil's suffrage : then, no doubt, 
 He held, and did believe, this. But no sooner 
 The prince's frowns and jealousies had thrown 
 
 him 
 
 Out of security's lap, and a centurion 
 Had offer'd him what choice of death he 
 
 pleased, 
 But told him, die he must ; when straight the 
 
 armour 
 Of his so boasted fortitude fell oft', 
 
 [ Throws away the book.. 
 Complaining of his frailty. Can it then 
 Be censured womanish weakness in me, if, 
 Thus clogg'd with irons, and the period 
 To close up all calamities denied me, ^ 
 Which was presented Seneca, I wish 
 I ne'er had being ; at least, never knew 
 
THE MAID OF HONOUR. 
 
 27S 
 
 What happiness was ; or argue with heaven's 
 
 justice, 
 
 Tearing my locks, and, in defiance, throwing 
 Dust in the air ? or, falling on the ground, 
 
 thus 
 With my nails and teeth to dig a grave, or 
 
 rend 
 
 The bowels of the earth, my step-mother, 
 And not a natural parent ? or thus practise 
 To die, and, as I were insensible, 
 Believe I had no motion? [Falls on his face. 
 
 Enter Gonzaga, Adorni, and Gaoler. 
 
 Gonz. There he is : 
 
 I'll not enquire by whom his ransome's paid, 
 I am satisfied that I have it ; nor allege 
 One reason to excuse his cruel usage, 
 As you may interpret it ; let it suffice 
 It was my will to have it so. He is yours now, 
 Dispose of him as you please. [Exit. 
 
 A dor. Howe'er I hate him, 
 As one preferr'd before me, being a man, 
 He does deserve my pity. Sir ! he sleeps : 
 Or is he dead? would he were a saint in 
 
 heaven ! 
 
 'Tis all the hurt I wish him. But, I was not 
 Born to such happiness [AsideJ] Kneels by 
 
 Aim.'] no, he breathes come near, 
 
 And, if 't be possible, without his feeling, 
 Take off his irons. [His irons taken off.'} 
 
 So ; now leave us private. 
 
 [Exit Gaoler. 
 
 He does begin to stir ; and, as transported 
 With a joyful dream, how he stares ! and 
 
 feels his legs, 
 
 As yet uncertain whether it can be 
 True or fantastical. 
 
 Bert. '[rising.'] Ministers of mercy, 
 Mock not calamity. Ha ! 'tis no vision ! 
 Or, if it be, the happiest that ever 
 Appear'd to sinful flesh ! Who's here? his face 
 Speaks him Adorni ; but some glorious 
 
 angel, 
 
 Concealing its divinity in his shape, 
 Hath done this miracle, it being not an act 
 For wolfish man. Resolve me, if thou 
 
 look'st for 
 
 Bent knees in adoration ? 
 A dor. O forbear, sir ! 
 I am Adorni, and the instrument 
 Of your deliverance ; but the benefit 
 You owe another. 
 
 Bert. If he has a name, 
 As soon as spoken, 'tis writ on my heart 
 I am his bondman. 
 
 A dor. To the shame of men, 
 This great act is a woman's. 
 
 Bert. The whole sex 
 For her sake must be deified. How I wander 
 
 In my imagination, yet cannot 
 Guess who this phoenix should be 
 
 A dor. 'Tis Camiola. 
 
 Bert. Pray you, speak't again ; there's music 
 
 in her name. 
 Once more, I pray you, sir. 
 
 A dor. Camiola, 
 
 The MAID OF HONOUR. 
 
 Bert. Curs'd atheist that I was, 
 Only to doubt it could be any other ; 
 Since she alone, in the abstract of herself, 
 That small but ravishing substance, com- 
 prehends 
 
 Whatever is, or can be wish'd, in the 
 Idea of a woman ! O what service, 
 Or sacrifice of duty, can I pay her, 
 If not to live and die her charity's slave, 
 Which is resolved already ! 
 
 Ador. She expects not 
 Such a dominion o'er you : yet, ere I 
 Deliver her demands, give me your hand : 
 On this, as she enjoin'd me, with my lips 
 I print her love and service, by me sent you. 
 
 Bert. I am o'erwhelmed with wonder ! 
 
 Ador. You must now, 
 Which is the sum of all that she desires, 
 By a solemn contract bind yourself, when she 
 Requires it, as a debt due for your freedom, 
 To marry her. 
 
 Bert. This does engage me further ; 
 A payment ! an increase of obligation. 
 To marry her ! 'twas my nil ultra ever : 
 The end of my ambition. O that now 
 The holy man, she present, were prepared 
 To join our hands, but with that speed my 
 
 heart 
 Wishes mine eyes might see her ! 
 
 Ador. You must swear this. 
 
 Bert. Swear it ! Collect all oaths and im- 
 precations, 
 
 Whose least breach is damnation, and those 
 Minister'd to me in a form more dreadful ; 
 Set heaven and hell before me, I will take 
 
 them : 
 
 False to Camiola ! never. Shall I now 
 Begin my vows to you ? 
 
 Ador. I am no churchman ; 
 Such a one must file it on record : you are 
 
 free; 
 
 And, that you may appear like to yourself, 
 (For so she wish'd,) here's gold, with which 
 
 you may 
 Redeem your trunks and servants, and 
 
 whatever 
 
 Of late you lost. I have found out the captain 
 Whose spoil they were ; his name isRoderigo. 
 
 Bert. I know him. 
 
 Ador. I have done my parts. 
 
 Bert. So much, sir, 
 
 T 
 
274 
 
 THE MAID OF -HONOUR. 
 
 As I am ever yours for't. Now, methinks, 
 
 I walk in air ! Divine Camiola 
 
 But words cannot express thee : I'll build to 
 
 thee 
 
 An altar in my soul, on which I'll offer 
 A still-increasing sacrifice of duty. [Exit. 
 Ador. What \vill become of me. now is 
 
 apparent. 
 
 Whether a poniard or a halter be 
 The nearest way to hell, (for I must thither, 
 After I 've kill'd myself, ) is somewhat doubtful. 
 This Roman resolution of self-murder, 
 Will not hold water at the high tribunal, 
 When it comes to be argued ; my good Genius 
 Prompts me to this consideration. He. 
 That kills himself to avoid misery, fears it, 
 And, at the best, shews but a bastard valour. 
 This life's a fort committed to my trust, 
 Which I must not yield up till it be forced : 
 Nor will I. He's not valiant that dares die, 
 But he that boldly bears calamity. [Exit. 
 
 SCENE IV. T/ie same. A State-room 
 
 in the Palace. 
 
 A Flourish. Enter Pierio, Roderigo, 
 Jacomo, Gonzaga, Aurelia, Ferdinand, 
 Astutio, and Attendants. 
 Aurel. A seat here for the duke. It is 
 
 our glory 
 
 To overcome with courtesies, not rigour ; 
 The lordly Roman, who hsld it the height 
 Of human happiness to have kings and queens 
 To wait by his triumphant chariot-wheels, 
 In his insulting pride, deprived himself 
 Of drawing near the nature of the gods, 
 Best known for such, in being merciful. 
 Yet, givr me leave, but still with gentle 
 
 language, 
 
 And with the freedom of a friend, to tell you, 
 To seek by force, what courtship could not 
 
 win, 
 Was harsh, and never taught in Love's mild 
 
 school. 
 
 Wise poets feign that Venus' coach is drawn 
 By doves and sparrows, not by bears and 
 
 tigers. 
 
 I spare the application. 
 Per. In my fortune, 
 Heaven's justice hath confirm'd it ; yet, 
 
 great lady, 
 
 Since my offence grew from excess of love, 
 And not to be resisted, having paid, too, 
 With loss of liberty, the forfeiture 
 Of my presumption, in your clemency 
 It may find pardon. 
 
 Aurel. You shall have just cause 
 To say it hath. The charge of the long siege 
 Defray 'd, and the loss my subjects have sus- 
 
 tain'd 
 
 Made good, since so far I must deal with 
 
 caution, 
 You have your liberty. 
 
 Per. I could not hope for 
 Gentler conditions. 
 
 Aurel. My lord Gonzaga, 
 Since my coming to Sienna, I've heard much 
 
 of 
 Your prisoner, brave Bertoldo. 
 
 GOJIZ. Such an one, 
 Madam, I had. 
 
 Ast. And have still, sir, I hope. 
 
 Gonz. Your hopes deceive you. He is 
 ransomed, madam. 
 
 Ast. By whom, I pray you, sir? 
 
 Gonz. You had best enquire 
 Of your intelligencer : I am no informer. 
 
 Ast. I like not this. [Aside. 
 
 Aurel. He is, as 'tis reported, 
 A goodly gentleman, and of noble parts ; 
 A brother of your order. 
 
 Gonz. He was, madam, 
 Till he, against his oath, wrong'd you, a 
 
 princess, 
 Which his religion bound him from. 
 
 Aurel. Great minds, 
 For trial of their valours, oft maintain 
 Quarrels that are unjust, yet without malice ; t 
 And such a fair construction I make of him : ; 
 I would see that brave enemy. 
 
 Gonz. My duty 
 Commands me to seek for him. 
 
 Aurel. Pray you do ; 
 And bring him to our presence. 
 
 [Exit Gonzaga. 
 
 Ast. I must blast 
 His entertainment. [Aside.'] May it please 
 
 your excellency, 
 
 He is a man debauch'd, and, for his riots, 
 Cast off by the king my master ; and that, I 
 
 hope, is 
 A crime sufficient. 
 
 Per. To you, his subjects, 
 That like as your king likes. 
 
 Aurel. But not to us ; 
 We must weigh with our own scale. 
 
 Re-enter Gonzaga, with Bertoldo, richly 
 Jiabitcd, and Adorni. 
 
 This is he, sure. 
 How soon mine eye had found him ! what a 
 
 port 
 He bears ! how well his bravery becomes 
 
 him! 
 
 A prisoner ! nay, a princely suitor, rather ! 
 But I'm too sudden. [Aside. 
 
 Gonz. Madam, 'twas his suit, 
 Unsent for, to present his service to you, 
 Ere his departure. 
 
THE MAID OF HONOUR. 
 
 275 
 
 AursL With what majesty 
 He bears himself ! [Aside. 
 
 Ast. The devil, I think, supplies him. 
 Ransomed, and thus rich too ! 
 
 Aurel. You ill deserve 
 
 [Bertoldo kneeling; kisses her hand. 
 
 The favour of our hand we are not well, 
 
 Give us more air. [Descends suddenly. 
 
 Gonz. What sudden qualm is this ? 
 
 Aurel. That lifted yours against me. 
 
 Bert. Thus, once more, 
 I sue for pardon. 
 
 Aurel. Sure his lips are poison'd, 
 And through these veins force passage to 
 
 my heart, 
 Which is already seized on. [A side. 
 
 Bert. I wait, madam, 
 
 To know what your commands are ; my de- 
 signs 
 Exact me in another place. 
 
 Aurel. Before 
 
 You have our license to depart ! If manners, 
 Civility of manners, cannot teach you 
 To attend our leisure, I must tell you, sir, 
 That you are still our prisoner ; nor had you 
 Commission to free him. 
 
 Gonz. How's this, madam ? 
 
 Aurel. You were my substitute, and 
 
 wanted power, 
 
 Without my warrant, to dispose of him : 
 I will pay back his ransom ten times over, 
 Rather than quit my interest. 
 
 Bert. This is 
 Against the law of arms. 
 
 Aurel. But not of love. [Aside. 
 
 Why, hath your entertainment, sir, been 
 
 such, 
 
 In your restraint, that, with the wings of fear, 
 You would fly from it ? 
 
 Bert. I know no man, madam, 
 Enamour'd of his fetters, or delighting 
 In cold or hunger, or that would in reason 
 Prefer straw in a dungeon, before 
 A down-bed in a palace. 
 
 Aurel. How ! Come nearer : 
 Was his usage such ? 
 
 Gonz. Yes ; and it had been worse, 
 Had I forseen this. 
 
 Aurel. O thou mis-shaped monster ! 
 In thee it is confirm'd, that such as have 
 No share in nature's bounties, know no pity 
 To such as have them. Look on him with 
 
 my eyes, 
 
 And answer, then, whether this were a man 
 Whose cheeks of lovely fulness should be 
 
 made 
 
 A prey to meagre famine? or these eyes, 
 Whose every glance store Cupid's emptied 
 
 To be dimm'd with tedious watching ? or 
 
 these lips, 
 These ruddy lips, of whose fresh colour 
 
 cherries 
 
 And roses were but copies, should grow pale 
 For want of nectar? or these legs, that bear 
 A burthen of more worth than is supported 
 By Atlas' wearied shoulders, should be 
 
 cramp 'd 
 With the weight of iron ? O, I could dwell 
 
 ever 
 On this description ! 
 
 Bert. Is this in derision, 
 Or pity of me ? 
 
 Aurel. In your charity 
 Believe me innocent. Now you are my- 
 
 prisoner, 
 
 You shall have fairer quarter? you will shame 
 The place where you have been, should you 
 
 now leave it, 
 
 Before you are recover'd. I'll conduct you 
 To more convenient lodgings, and it shall be 
 My care to cherish you. Repine who dare ; 
 It is our will. You'll follow me ? 
 
 Bert. To the centre, 
 Such a Sybilla guiding me. 
 
 [Exeunt Aurelia, Bertoldo, and 
 
 Attendants. 
 
 Gonz. Who speaks first ? 
 Per. We stand as we had seen Medusa's 
 
 head. 
 Pier. I know not what to think, I am so. 
 
 amazed. 
 
 Rod. Amazed ! I am thunderstruck. 
 Jac. We are enchanted, 
 And this is some illusion. 
 A dor. Heaven forbid ! 
 In dark despair it shews a beam of hope : 
 Contain thy joy, Adorni. [A side.. 
 
 Ast. Such a princess, 
 And of so long-experienced reserv'dness, 
 Break forth, and on the sudden, into flashes. 
 Of more than doubted looseness ! 
 
 Gonz. They come again, 
 Smiling, as I live ! his arm circling her waist. 
 I shall run mad : Some fury hath possess'd 
 
 her. 
 If I speak, I may be blasted. Ha ! I'll 
 
 mumble 
 
 A prayer or two, and cross myself, and then,. 
 Though the devil fart fire, have at him. 
 
 Rc-cnier Bertoldo, and Aurelia. 
 
 A^lrel. Let not, sir, 
 
 The violence of my passion nourish in you 
 An ill opinion ; or, grant my carriage 
 Out of the road and garb of private women, 
 'Tis still done with decorum. As I am 
 
 T2. 
 
27 6 
 
 THE MAID OF HONOUR. 
 
 A princess, what I do is above censure, 
 And to be imitated. 
 
 Bert. Gracious madam, 
 Vouchsafe a little pause ; for I am so rapt 
 Beyond myself, that, till I have collected 
 My scatter'd faculties, I cannot tender 
 My resolution. 
 
 Aurel. Consider of it, 
 J will not be long from you. 
 
 [Bertoldo walks by musing. 
 
 Gonz. Pray I cannot, 
 This cursed object strangles my devotion : 
 I must speak, or I burst. Pray you, fair lady, 
 If you can, in courtesy direct me to 
 The chaste Aurelia. 
 
 Aurel. Are you blind? who are we? 
 
 Gonz. Another kind of thing. Her blood 
 
 was govern'd 
 
 By her discretion, and not ruled her reason : 
 The reverence and majesty of Juno 
 Shined in her looks, and, coming to the camp, 
 Appear'd a second Pallas. I can see 
 No such divinities in you : if I, 
 Without offence, may speak my thoughts, 
 
 you are, 
 As 'twere, a wanton Helen. 
 
 Aurel. Good ! ere long 
 You shall know me better. 
 
 Gonz. Why, if you are Aurelia, 
 How shall I dispose of the soldier ? 
 
 Ast. May it please you 
 To hasten my dispatch ? 
 
 Aurel. Prefer your suits 
 Unto Bertoldo ; we will give him hearing, 
 And you'll find him your best advocate. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Ast. This is rare ! 
 
 Gonz. What are we come to ? 
 
 Rod. Grown up in a moment 
 A favourite ! 
 
 Ferd. He does take state already. 
 
 Bert. No, no ; it cannot be : yet, but 
 
 Camiola, 
 
 There is no step between me and a crown. 
 Then my ingratitude ! a sin in which 
 All sins are comprehended ! Aid me, Virtue, 
 Or I am lost. 
 
 Gonz. May it please your excellence 
 
 Second me, sir. 
 
 Bert. Then my so horrid oaths, 
 And hell-deep imprecations made against it ! 
 
 Ast. The king, your brother, will thank 
 
 you for the advancement 
 Of his affairs. 
 
 Bert. And yet who can hold out 
 Against such batteries as her power and 
 
 greatness 
 Raise up against my weak defences ! 
 
 Gonz. Sir, 
 
 Re-enter Aurelia. 
 
 Do you dream waking ? 'Slight, she's here 
 
 again ! 
 Walks she on woollen feet ! 
 
 Aurel. You dwell too long 
 In your deliberation, and come 
 With a cripple's pace to that which you 
 
 should fly to. 
 Bert. It is confess'd : yet why should I, 
 
 to win 
 
 From you, that hazard all to my poor nothing, 
 By false play send you off a loser from me ? 
 I am already too, too much engaged 
 To the king my brother's anger ; and who 
 
 knows 
 But that his doubts and politic fears, should 
 
 you 
 
 Make me his equal, may draw war upon 
 Your territories? Were that breach made up, 
 I should with joy embrace what now I fear 
 To touch but with due reverence. 
 
 Aurel. That hinderance 
 Is easily removed. I owe the king 
 For a royal visit, which I straight will pay 
 
 him ; 
 
 And having first reconciled you to his favour, 
 A dispensation shall meet with us. 
 Bert. I am wholly yours. 
 Aurel. On this book seal it. 
 
 Gonz. What, hand and lip too ! then the 
 
 bargain's sure. 
 
 You have no employment for me? 
 
 Aurel. Yes, Gonzaga ; 
 Provide a royal ship. 
 
 Gonz. A ship ! St. John, 
 Whither are we bound now ? 
 
 Aurel. You shall know hereafter. 
 My lord, your pardon, for my too much 
 
 trenching 
 
 Upon your patience. 
 
 Ador. Camiola ! \Aside to Bertolda. 
 
 Aurel. How do you ? 
 Bert. Indisposed ; but I attend you. 
 
 [Exeunt all bzit Adorni. 
 Ador. The heavy curse that waits on per- 
 jury, 
 
 And foul ingratitude, pursue thee ever ! 
 Yet why from me this ? in his breach of 
 
 faith 
 
 My loyalty finds reward : what poisons him, 
 Proves mithridate to me. I have perform'd 
 All she commanded, punctually ; and now, 
 In the clear mirror of my truth, she may 
 Behold his falsehood. O that I had wings 
 To bear me to Palermo ! This once known, 
 Must change her love into a just disdain, 
 And work her to compassion of my pain. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
THE MAID OF HONOUR. 
 
 277 
 
 SCENE V. Palermo. A Room in Ca- 
 miola's House. 
 
 Enter Sylli, Camio'.a, and Clarinda, at 
 several doors. 
 
 Syl. Undone! undone! poor I, that 
 
 whilome was 
 The top and ridge of my house, am, on the 
 
 sudden, 
 
 Turn'd to the pitifullest animal 
 O' the lineage of the Syllis ! 
 Cam. What's the matter ? 
 Syl. The king break, girdle, break ! 
 Cam. Why, what of him ? 
 Syl. Hearing how far you doated on my 
 
 person, 
 Growing envious of my happiness, and 
 
 knowing 
 
 His brother, nor his favourite, Fulgentio, 
 Could get a sheep's eye from you, I being 
 
 present, 
 
 Is come himself a suitor, with the awl 
 Of his authority to bore my nose, 
 And take you from me Oh, oh, oh ! 
 
 Cam. Do not roar so : 
 The king ! 
 
 Syl. The king. Yet loving Sylli is not 
 So sorry for his own, as your misfortune ; 
 If the king should carry you, or you bear him, 
 What a loser should you be ! He can but 
 
 make you 
 
 A queen, and what a simple thing is that, 
 To the being my lawful spouse ! the world 
 
 can never 
 Afford you such a husband. 
 
 Cam. I believe you. 
 
 But how are you sure the king is so inclined ? 
 Did not you dream this ? 
 
 Syl. With these eyes I saw him 
 Dismiss his train, and lighting from his 
 
 coach, 
 Whispering Fulgentio in the ear. 
 
 Cam. If so, 
 I guess the business. 
 
 Syl. It can be no other, 
 But to give me the bob, that being a matter 
 Of main importance. Yonder they are ; I 
 dare not 
 
 Enter Roberto, and Fulgentio. 
 
 Be seen, I am so desperate : if you forsake me, 
 Send me word, that I may provide a willow 
 
 garland, 
 
 To wear when I drown myself. O Sylli, Sylli ! 
 
 {Exit crying. 
 
 Fill. It will be worth your pains, sir, to 
 
 observe 
 The constancy and bravery of her spirit. 
 
 Though great men tremble at your frown Sj. 
 
 I dare 
 
 Hazard my head, your majesty, set off 
 With terror, cannot fright her. 
 
 Rob. May she answer 
 My expectation ! {Aside. 
 
 Ful. There she is. 
 
 Cam. My knees thus 
 Bent to the earth, while my vows are sent 
 
 upward 
 
 For the safety of my sovereign, pay the duty 
 Due for so great an honour, in this favour 
 Done to your humblest handmaid. 
 
 Rob. You mistake me ; 
 I come not, lady, that you may report 
 The king, to do you honour, made your house 
 (He being there) his court ; but to correct 
 Your stubborn disobedience. ' A pardon 
 For that, could you obtain it, were well 
 
 purchased 
 With this humility. 
 
 Cam. A pardon, sir ! 
 Till I am conscious of an offence, 
 I will not wrong my innocence to beg one. 
 What is my crime, sir ? 
 
 Rob. Look on him I favour, 
 By you scorn'd and neglected. 
 
 Cam. Is that all, sir ? 
 
 Rob. No, minion ; though that were too 
 
 much. How can you 
 
 Answer the setting on your desperate bravo 
 To murder him ? 
 
 Cam. With your leave, I must not kneel, 
 
 sir, 
 
 While I reply to this : but thus rise up 
 In my defence, and tell you, as a man, 
 (Since, when you are unjust, the deity, 
 Which you may challenge as a king, parts 
 
 from you, ) 
 
 'Twas never read in holy writ, or moral, 
 That subjects on their loyalty, were obliged 
 To love their sovereign's vices ; your grace, 
 
 sir, 
 To such an undeserver is no virtue. 
 
 Ful. What think you now, sir? 
 
 Cam. Say, you should love wine, 
 You being the king, and, 'cause I am your 
 
 subject, 
 
 Must I be ever drunk ? Tyrants, not kings, 
 By violence, from humble vassals force 
 The liberty of their souls. I could not love 
 
 him ; 
 
 And to compel affection, as I take it, 
 Is not found in your prerogative. 
 
 Rob. Excellent virgin ! 
 How I admire her confidence ! [Aside. 
 
 Cam. He complains 
 
 wrong done him : but, be no more a king, 
 Unless you do me right. Burn your decrees, 
 
2 7 8 
 
 THE MAID OF HONOUR. 
 
 And of your laws and statutes make a fire 
 To thaw the frozen numbness of delinquents, 
 If he escape unpunish'd. Do your edicts 
 Call it death in any man that breaks into 
 Another s house, torobhim, though of trifles; 
 And shall Fulgentio, your Fulgentio, live, 
 Who hath committed more than sacrilege, 
 In the pollution of my clear fame, 
 By his malicious slanders ? 
 
 Rob. Have you done this ' 
 Answer truly, on your life. 
 
 Ful. In the heat of blood, 
 Some such thing I reported. 
 
 Rob. Out of my sight ! 
 For I vow, if by true penitence thou win not 
 This injured virgin to sue out thy pardon, 
 Thy grave is digg'd already. 
 
 Ful. By my own folly 
 I have made a fair hand of 't. 
 
 [Aside, and exit. 
 
 Rob. You shall know, lady, 
 While I wear a crown, justice shall use her 
 
 sword 
 To cut offenders off, though nearest to us. 
 
 Cam. Ay, now you shew whose deputy 
 
 you are : 
 
 If now I bathe your feet with tears, it cannot 
 Be censured superstition. 
 
 Rob. You must rise ; 
 Rise in our favour and protection ever. 
 
 [Kisses her. 
 
 Cam. Happy are subjects, when the prince 
 
 is still 
 Guided by justice, not his passionate will. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 SCENE I. The same. A Room in 
 Camiola's House. 
 
 Enter Camiola and Sylli. 
 
 Cam. You see how tender i am of the 
 
 quiet 
 And peace of your affection, and what great 
 
 ones 
 I put off in your favour. 
 
 Syl. You do wisely, 
 
 Exceeding wisely ; and when I have said, 
 I thank you for't, be happy. 
 
 Cam. And good reason, 
 In having such a blessing. 
 Syl. When you have it ; 
 But the bait is not yet ready. Stay the time, 
 While I triumph by myself. King, by your 
 
 leave, 
 
 I have wiped your royal nose without a 
 napkin ; 
 
 You may cry, Willow, willow f for your 
 
 brother, 
 
 I'll only say, Go by ! for my fine favourite, 
 He may graze where he please ; his lips may 
 
 water 
 
 Like a puppy "so'erafurmenty pot, whileSylli, 
 Out of his two-leaved cherry-stone dish, 
 
 drinks nectar ! 
 
 I cannot hold out any longer ; heaven for- 
 give me ! 
 'Tis not the first oath I have broke ; I must 
 
 take 
 A little for a preparative. 
 
 [Offers to kiss and embrace her. 
 Cam. By no means. 
 
 If you forswear yourself, we shall not prosper : 
 I'll rather lose my longing. 
 
 Syl. Pretty soul ! 
 
 How careful it is of me ! let me buss yet 
 Thy little dainty foot for't : that, I'm sure, is 
 Out of my oath. 
 
 Cam. Why, if thou canst dispense with't 
 So far, I'll not be scrupulous ; such a favour 
 My amorous shoe-maker steals. 
 Syl. O most rare leather ! 
 
 [Kisses her shoe often. 
 I do begin at the lowest, but in time 
 I may grow higher. 
 
 Cam. Fie ! you dwell too long there : 
 Rise, prithee rise. 
 Syl. O, I am up already. 
 
 Enter Clarinda, hastily. 
 
 Cam. How I abuse my hours! What 
 
 news with thee, now ? 
 Clar. Off with that gown, 'tis mine ; mine 
 
 by your promise : 
 
 Signior Adorni is return'd ! now upon en- 
 trance ! 
 Off with it, off with it, madam ! 
 
 Cam. Be not so hasty : 
 W r hen I go to bed, 'tis thine. 
 
 Syl. You have my grant too ; 
 But, do you hear, lady, though I give way 
 
 to this, 
 
 You must hereafter ask my leave, before 
 You part with things of moment. 
 
 Cam. Very good ; 
 When I'm yours I'll be govern'd. 
 Syl. Sweet obedience ! 
 
 Enter Adorni. 
 
 Cam. You are well return'd. 
 
 A dor. I wish that the success 
 Of my service had deserved it. 
 
 Cam. Lives Bertoldo ? 
 
 A dor. Yes, and return'd with safety. 
 
 Cam. Tis not then 
 In the power of fate to add to, or take from 
 
THE MAID OF HONOUR. 
 
 279 
 
 My perfect happiness ; and yet he should 
 Have made me his first visit. 
 
 A dor. So I think too ; 
 But he 
 
 Syl. Durst not appear, I being present ; 
 That's his excuse, I warrant you. 
 
 Cam. Speak, where is he? 
 With whom ? who hath deserved more from 
 
 him ? or 
 
 Can be of equal merit ? I in this 
 Do not except the king. 
 
 A dor. He's at the palace, 
 With the dutchess of Sienna. One coach 
 
 brought them hither, 
 
 Without a third : he's very gracious with her ; 
 You may conceive the rest. 
 
 Cam. My jealous fears 
 Make me to apprehend. 
 
 Ador. Pray you dismiss 
 Signior Wisdom, and I'll make relation to you 
 Of the particulars. 
 
 Cam. Servant, I would have you 
 To haste unto the court. 
 
 Syl. I will outrun 
 A footman for your pleasure. 
 
 Cam. There observe 
 The dutchess' train, and entertainment. 
 
 Syl. Fear not ; 
 
 I will discover all that is of weight, 
 To the liveries of her pages and her footmen. 
 This is fit employment for me. [Exit. 
 
 Cam. Gracious with 
 The dutchess ! sure, you said so ? 
 
 Ador. I will use 
 
 All possible brevity to inform you, madam, 
 Of what was trusted to me, and discharged 
 With faith and loyal duty. 
 
 Cam. I believe it ; 
 You ransomed him, and supplied his wants 
 
 imagine 
 
 That is already spoken ; and what vows 
 Of service he made to me, is apparent ; 
 His joy of me, and wonder too, perspicuous ; 
 Does not your story end so ? 
 
 Ador. Would the end 
 Had answered the beginning"! In a word, 
 Ingratitude and perjury at the height 
 Cannot express him. 
 
 Cam. Take heed. 
 
 Ador. Truth is arm'd, 
 And can defend itself. It must out, madam : 
 I saw (the presence full) the amorous dutchess 
 Kiss and embrace him ; on his part ac- 
 cepted 
 
 With equal ardour ; and their willing hands 
 No sooner join'd, but a removewas publish'd, 
 And put in execution. 
 
 Cam. The proofs are 
 Too pregnant. O Bertoldo ! 
 
 Ador. He's not worth 
 Your sorrow, madam. 
 
 Cam. Tell me, when you saw this, 
 Did not you grieve, as I do now to hear it ? 
 Ador. His precipice from goodness raising 
 
 mine, 
 
 And serving as a foil to set my faith off, 
 I had little reason. 
 
 Cam. In this you confess 
 The devilish malice of your disposition. 
 As you were a man, you stood bound to 
 
 lament it ; 
 And not, in flattery of your false hopes, 
 To glory in it. When good men pursue 
 The path mark'd out by virtue, the blest saints 
 With joy look on it, and seraphic angels 
 Clap their celestial wings in heavenly plau- 
 dits, 
 
 To see a scene of grace so well presented, 
 The fiends, and men made up of envy, 
 
 mourning. 
 
 Whereas now, on the contrary, as far 
 As their divinity can partake of passion, 
 With me they weep, beholding a fair temple, 
 Built in Bertoldo's loyalty, turn'd to ashes 
 By the flames of his inconstancy, the damn'd 
 Rejoicing in the object. "Tis not well 
 In you, Adorni. 
 
 Ador. What a temper dwells 
 In this rare virgin ! [Aside.'] Can you pity 
 
 him, 
 That hath shewn none to you ? 
 
 Cam. I must not be 
 Cruel by his example. You, perhaps, 
 Expect now I should seek recovery 
 Of what I have lost, by tears, and with bent 
 
 knees 
 Beg his compassion. No ; my towering 
 
 virtue, 
 
 From the assurance of my merit, scorns 
 To stoop so low. I'll take a nobler course, 
 And, confident in the justice of my cause, 
 The king his brother, and new mistress, 
 
 Ravish him from her arms. You have the 
 
 contract, 
 
 In which he swore to marry me ? 
 Ador. 'Tis here, madam. 
 Cam. He shall be, then, against his will, 
 
 my husband ; 
 And when I have him, I'll so use him ! 
 
 Doubt not, 
 
 But that, your honesty being unquestion'd, 
 This writing, with your testimony, clears all. 
 Ador. And buries me in the dark mists of 
 
 error. 
 Cam. I'll presently to court ; pray you, 
 
 give order 
 For my caroch. 
 
280 
 
 THE MAID OF HONOUR. 
 
 Ador. A cart for me were fitter, 
 To hurry me to the gallows. 
 
 \Aside, and exit. 
 Cam. O false men ! 
 Inconstant ! perjured ! My good angel help 
 
 me, 
 In these my extremities ! 
 
 Re-enter Sylli. 
 
 Syl. If you e'er will see brave sight, 
 Lose it not now. Bertoldo and the dutchess 
 Are presently to be married : there's such 
 
 pomp, 
 And preparation ! 
 
 Cam. If I marry, 'tis 
 This day, or never. 
 
 Syl. Why, with all my heart ; 
 Though I break this, I'll keep the next oath 
 
 I make, 
 And then it is quit. 
 
 Cam. Follow me to my cabinet ; 
 You know my confessor, father Paulo? 
 
 Syl. Yes : shall he 
 Do the feat for us ? 
 
 Cam. I will give in writing 
 Directions to him, and attire myself 
 Like a virgin bride ; and something I will do, 
 That shall deserve men's praise, and wonder 
 
 too. 
 Syl. And I, to make all know I am not 
 
 shallow, 
 
 Will have my points of cochineal and yellow. 
 
 {Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE II. The Same. A State-room in 
 
 the Palace. 
 Loud music. Enter Roberto, Bertoldo, 
 
 Aurelia, Ferdinand, Astutio, Gonzaga, 
 
 Roderigo, Jacomo, Pierio, a Bishop, and 
 
 Attendants. 
 
 Rob. Had our division been greater, 
 
 madam, 
 
 Your clemency, the wrong being done to you, 
 In pardon of it, like the rod of concord, 
 Must make a perfect union. Once more, 
 With a brotherly affection, we receive you 
 Into our favour : let it be your study 
 Hereafter to deserve this blessing, far 
 Beyond your merit. 
 
 Bert. As the princess' grace 
 To me is without limit, my endeavours, 
 With all obsequiousness to serve her plea- 
 sures, 
 Shall know no bounds : nor will I, being 
 
 made 
 
 Her husband, e'er forget the duty that 
 I owe her as a servant. 
 
 Aurel. I expect not 
 But fair equality, since I well know, 
 
 If that superiority be due, 
 
 'Tis not to me. When you are made my 
 
 consort, 
 All the prerogatives of my high birth can- 
 
 cell'd, 
 
 i I'll practice the obedience of a wife, 
 ! And freely pay it. Queens themselves, if they 
 1 Make choice of their inferiors, only aiming 
 I To feed their sensual appetites, and to reign 
 I Over their husbands, in some kind commit 
 i Authorized whoredom ; nor will I be guilty, 
 j In my intent of such a crime. 
 
 Gonz. This done, 
 
 As it is promised, madam, may well stand for 
 A precedent to great women : but, when once 
 The griping hunger of desire is cloy'd, 
 And the poor fool advanced, brought on his 
 
 knees, 
 
 Most of your eagle breed, I'll not say all, 
 Ever excepting you, challenge again 
 What, in hot blood, they parted from. 
 
 Aurel. You are ever 
 
 An enemy of our sex ; but you, I hope, sir,. 
 Have better thoughts. 
 
 Bert. I dare not entertain 
 An ill one of your goodness. 
 
 Rob. To my power 
 
 I will enable him, to prevent all danger 
 Envy can raise against your choice. One 
 
 word more 
 Touching the articles. 
 
 nterFulgentio, Camiola, Sylli, andAdomi. 
 
 Ful. In you alone 
 
 Lie all my hopes ; you can or kill or save me ; 
 But pity in you will become you better 
 (Though I confess in justice 'tis denied me) 
 Than too much rigour. 
 
 Cam. I will make your peace 
 As far as it lies in me' ; but must first 
 Labour to right myself. 
 
 Aurel. Or add or alter 
 What you think fit ; in him I have my all : 
 Heaven make me thankful for him ! 
 
 Rob. On to the temple. 
 
 Cam. Stay,' royal sir ; and as you are a 
 
 king, 
 
 Erect one here, in doing justice to 
 An injured maid. 
 
 Aurel. How's this? 
 
 Bert. O, I am blasted ! 
 
 Rob. I have given some proof, sweet lady, 
 
 of my promptness 
 To do you right, you need not, therefore, 
 
 doubt me ; 
 And rest assured, that, this great work dis- 
 
 patch'd, 
 
 You shall have audience, and satisfaction 
 To all you can demand. 
 
THE MAID OF HONOUR. 
 
 28r 
 
 Cam. To do me justice 
 Exacts your present care, and can admit 
 Of no delay. If, ere my cause be heard, 
 In favour of your brother you go on, sir, 
 Your sceptre cannot right me. He's the man, 
 The guilty man, whom I accuse ; and you 
 Stand bound in duty, as you are supreme, 
 To be impartial. Since you are a judge, 
 As a delinquent look on him, and not 
 As on a brother : Justice painted blind, 
 Infers her ministers are obliged to hear 
 The cause, and truth, the judge, determine 
 
 of it : 
 
 And not s\vay'd or by favour or affection, 
 By a false gloss, or wrested comment, alter 
 The true intent and letter of the law. 
 
 Rob. Nor will I, madam. 
 
 Aurel. You seem troubled, sir. 
 
 Gonz. His colour changes too. 
 
 Cam. The alteration 
 Grows from his guilt. The goodness of my 
 
 cause 
 
 Begets such confidence in me, that I bring 
 No hired tongue to plead for me, that with 
 
 gay 
 
 'Rhetorical flourishes may palliate 
 That which, stripp'd naked, will appear de- 
 
 form'd. 
 I stand here mine own advocate ; and my 
 
 truth, 
 
 Deliver'd in the plainest language, will 
 Make good itself ; nor will I, if the king 
 Give suffrage to it, but admit of you, 
 My greatest enemy, and this stranger prince, 
 To sit assistants with him. 
 
 Aurel. I ne'er wrong'd you. 
 
 Cam. In your knowledge of the injury, I 
 
 believe it ; 
 
 Nor will you, in your justice, when you are 
 Acquainted with my interest in this man, 
 Which I lay claim to. 
 
 Rob. Let us take our seats. 
 What is your title to him ? 
 
 Cam. By this contract, 
 Seal'd solemnly before a reverend man, 
 
 [Presents a paper to the king. 
 I challenge him for my husband. 
 
 Syl. Ha ! was I 
 
 Sent for the friar for this? O Sylli ! Sylli ! 
 Some cordial, or I faint. 
 
 Rob. This writing is 
 Authentical. 
 
 Aurel. But, done in heat of blood, 
 Charm'd by her flatteries, as no doubt, he was, 
 To be dispens'd with. 
 
 Fer. Add this, if you please, 
 The distance and disparity between 
 Their births and fortunes. 
 
 Cam. What can Innocence hope for, 
 
 When such as sit her judges are corrupted ! 
 Disparity of birth or fortune, urge you ? 
 Or Syren charms ? or, at his best, in me 
 Wants to deserve him ? Call some few days 
 
 back, 
 
 And, as he was, consider him, and you 
 Must grant him my inferior. Imagine 
 You saw him now in fetters, with his honour, 
 His liberty lost ; with her black wings Despair 
 Circling his miseries, and this Gonzaga 
 Trampling on his afflictions ; the great sum 
 Proposed for his redemption ; the king 
 Forbidding payment of it ; his near kinsmen, 
 With his protesting followers and friends, 
 Falling off from him ; by the whole world 
 
 forsaken ; 
 
 Dead to all hope, and buried in the grave 
 Of his calamities ; and then weigh duly 
 What she deserv'd, whose merits now are 
 
 doubted, 
 
 That, as his better angel, in her bounties 
 Appear' d unto him, his great ransom paid, 
 His wants, and with a prodigal hand, sup- 
 plied ; 
 
 Whether, then, being my manumised slave, 
 He owed not himself to me ? 
 
 Aurel. Is this true? 
 
 Rob. In his silence 'tis acknowledged. 
 
 Gonz. If you want 
 A witness to this purpose, I'll depose it. 
 
 Cam. If I have dwelt too long on my 
 
 deservings 
 
 To this unthankful man, pray you pardon me ; 
 The cause required it. And though now I add 
 A little, in my painting to the life 
 His barbarous ingratitude, to deter 
 Others from imitation, let it meet with 
 A fair interpretation. This serpent. 
 Frozen to numbness, was no sooner warm'd 
 In the bosom of my pity and compassion, 
 But, in return, he ruin'd his preserver, 
 The prints the irons had made in his flesh 
 Still ulcerous ; but all that I had done, 
 My benefits, in sand or water written, 
 As they had never been, no more re- 
 
 member'd ! 
 And on what ground, but his ambitious hopes 
 To gain this dutchess" favour? 
 
 Aurel. Yes ; the object, 
 Look on it better, lady, may excuse . 
 The change of his affection. 
 
 Cam. The object ! 
 
 In \\hat? forgive me, modesty, if I say 
 You look upon your form in the false glass 
 Of flattery and self-love, and th at deceives you . 
 That you were a dutchess, as I take it, was not 
 Character 'd on your face ; and, that not seen, , 
 For other feature, make all these, that are 
 Experienced in women, judges of them. 
 
THE MAID OF HONOUR. 
 
 And, if they are not parasites, they must 
 
 grant, 
 For beauty without art, though you storm 
 
 at it, 
 I may take the right-hand file. 
 
 Gonz. Well said, i' faith ! 
 j I see fair women on no terms will yield 
 Priority in beauty. 
 
 Cam. Down, proud heart ! 
 Why do I rise up in defence of that, 
 Which, in my cherishing of it, hath undone 
 
 me ! 
 
 No, madam, I recant, you are all beauty, 
 Goodness, and virtue ; and poor I not worthy 
 As a foil to set you off: enjoy your conquest ; 
 But do not tyrannize. Yet, as I am, 
 In my lowness, from your height you may 
 
 look on me, 
 
 And, in your suffrage to me, make him know 
 That, though to all men else I did appear 
 The shame and scorn of women, he stands 
 
 bound 
 To hold me as the masterpiece. 
 
 Rob. By my life, 
 You have shewn yourself of such an abject 
 
 temper, 
 
 So poor and low-condition'd, as I grieve for 
 Your nearness to me. 
 
 Per. I am changed in my 
 Opinion of you, lady ; and profess 
 The virtues of your mind an ample fortune 
 For an absolute monarch. 
 
 Gonz. Since you are resolved 
 To damn yourself, in your forsaking of 
 Your noble order for a woman, do it 
 For this. You may search through the 
 
 world, and meet not 
 With such another phoenix. 
 
 Aurel. On the sudden 
 I feel all fires of love quench'd in the water 
 Of my compassion. Make your peace ; you 
 
 have 
 
 My free consent ; for here I do disclaim 
 All interest in you : and, to further your 
 Desires, fair maid, composed of worth and 
 
 honour, 
 
 The dispensation procured by me, 
 Freeing Bertoldo from his vow, makes way 
 To your embraces. 
 
 Bert. Oh, how have I stray'd, 
 And wilfully, out of the noble track 
 Mark'd me'by virtue ! till now, I was never 
 Truly a prisoner. To excuse my late 
 Captivity, I might allege the malice 
 Of fortune ; you, that conquer 'd me, con- 
 fessing 
 
 Courage in my defence was no way wanting. 
 But now I have surrender'd up my strengths 
 Into the power of Vice, and on my forehead 
 
 Branded, with mine own hand, in capital 
 
 letters, 
 DISLOYAL, and INGRATEFUL. Though 
 
 barr'd from 
 
 Human society, and hiss'd into 
 Some desart ne'er yet haunted with the curses 
 Of men and women, sitting as a judge 
 Upon my guilty self, I must confess 
 It justly falls upon me ; and one tear, 
 Shed in compassion of my sufferings, more 
 Than I can hope for. 
 
 Cam. This compunction 
 For the wrong that you have done me, 
 
 though you should 
 Fix here, and your true sorrow move no 
 
 further, 
 
 Will, in respect I loved once, make these eyes 
 Two springs of sorrow for you. 
 
 Bert. In your pity 
 My cruelty shews more monstrous : yet I 
 
 am no't, 
 Though most ingrateful, grown to such a 
 
 height 
 
 Of impudence, as, in my wishes only, 
 To ask your pardon. If, as now I fall 
 Prostrate before your feet, you will vouchsafe 
 To act your own revenge, treading upon me 
 As a viper eating through the bowels of 
 Your benefits, to whom, with liberty, 
 I owe my being, 'twill take from the burthen 
 That now is insupportable. 
 
 Cam. Pray you, rise ; 
 As I wish peace and quiet to my soul, 
 I do forgive you heartily : yet, excuse me, 
 Though I deny myself a blessing that, 
 By the favour of the dutchess, seconded 
 With your submission, is offer 'd to me ; 
 Let not the reason I allege for't grieve you, 
 You have been false once. I have done : 
 
 and if, 
 
 When I am married, as this day I will be, 
 As a perfect sign of your atonement with me, 
 You wish me joy, I will receive it for 
 Full satisfaction of all obligations 
 In which you stand bound to me. 
 
 Bert. I will do it, 
 
 And, what's more, in despite of sorrow, live 
 To see myself undone, beyond all hope 
 To be made up again. 
 
 Syl. My blood begins 
 To come to my heart again. 
 
 Cam. Pray you, signior Sylli, 
 Call in the holy friar : he's prepared 
 P"or finishing the work. 
 
 Syl. I knew I was 
 
 The man : heaven make me thankful ! 
 Rob. Who is this ? 
 
 Ast. His father was the banker of Pa- 
 lermo, 
 
THE MAID OF HONOUR. 
 
 283 
 
 And this the heir of his great wealth ; his 
 
 wisdom 
 Was not hereditary. 
 
 Syl. Though you know me not, 
 Your majesty owes me a round sum ; I have 
 A seal or two to witness ; yet, if you please 
 To wear my colours, and dance at my 
 
 wedding, 
 I'll never sue you. 
 
 Rob. And I'll grant your suit. 
 
 Syl. Gracious madonna, noble general, 
 
 Brave captains, and my quondam rivals, wear 
 
 them, [Gives them favours. 
 
 Since I am confident you dare not harbour 
 
 A thought but that way current. [Exit. 
 
 Aurel. For my part 
 I cannot guess the issue. 
 
 Re-enter Sylli with. Father Paulo. 
 
 Syl. Do your duty ; 
 
 And with all speed you can, you may dis- 
 patch us. 
 
 Paul. Thus, as a principal ornament to 
 
 the church, 
 I seize her. 
 
 All. How! 
 
 Rob. So young, and so religious ! 
 
 Paul. She has forsook the world. 
 
 Syl. And Sylli too ! 
 I shall run mad. 
 
 Rob. Hence with the fool ! [Sylli is thrust 
 off."\ Proceed, sir. 
 
 Paul. Look on this MAID OF HONOUR, now 
 Truly honour d in her vow 
 She pays to heaven: vain delight % 
 
 By day, or pleasure of the night- 
 She no more thinks of. This fair hair 
 (Favours for great kings to wear] 
 Must now be shorn ; her rich array 
 Changed into a homely gray : 
 The dainties with which she was fed, 
 And her proud flesh pampered, 
 Must not be tasted ; from the spring, 
 For wine, cold water we will bring ; 
 And with fasting mortify 
 The feasts of sensuality. 
 Her jewels, beads; and she must look 
 Not in a glass, but holy book, 
 To teach her the ne'er-erring way 
 To immortality. O may 
 She, as she purposes to be 
 A child new-born to piety, 
 Perslver in it. and good men, 
 With saints and angels, say, Amen ! 
 
 Cam. This is the marriage ! this the port 
 
 to which 
 My vows must steer me ! Fill my spreading 
 
 sails 
 
 With the pure wind of your devotions for me, 
 That I may touch the secure haven, where 
 Eternal happiness keeps her residence, 
 Temptations to frailty never entering ! 
 I am dead to the world, and thus dispose 
 Of what I leave behind me ; and, dividing 
 My state into three parts, I thus bequeath it : 
 The first to the fair nunnery, to which 
 I dedicate the last and better part 
 Of my frail life ; a second portion 
 To pious uses ; and the third to thee, 
 Adorni, for thy true and faithful service. 
 And, ere I take my last farewell, with hope 
 To find a grant, my suit to you is, that 
 You would, for my sake, pardon this young 
 
 man, 
 
 And to his merits love him, and no further. 
 Rob. I thus confirm it. 
 
 [Gives his hand to Fulgentio. 
 Cam. And, as e'er you hope, 
 
 [To Bertoldo. 
 
 Like me, to be made happy, I conjure you 
 To reassume your order ; and in fighting 
 Bravely against the enemies of our faith, 
 Redeem your mortgaged honour. 
 Gonz. I restore this : 
 
 [Gives him the while cross. 
 Once more brothers in arms. 
 Bert. I'll live and die so. 
 Cam. Toyou my piouswishes ! And, toend 
 All differences, great sir, I beseech you 
 To be an arbitrator, and compound 
 The quarrel long continuing between 
 The duke and dutchess. 
 
 Rob. I will take it into 
 My special care. 
 
 Cam. I am then at rest. Now, father, 
 Conduct me where you please. 
 
 [Exeunt Paulo and Camiola. 
 Rob. She well deserves 
 Her name, THE MAID OF HONOUR ! May 
 
 she stand, 
 
 To all posterity, a fair example 
 For noble maids to imitate ! Since to live 
 In wealth and pleasure's common, but to 
 
 part with 
 Such poison 'd baits is rare ; there being 
 
 nothing 
 
 Upon this stage of life to be commended, 
 Though well begun, till it be iully ended. 
 
 [Flourish. Exeunt, 
 
The Picture. 
 
 DRAMATIS PERSONS. ACTORS' NAMES. 
 
 Ladislaus, king of Hungary ......... R. Benfield. 
 
 Ferdinand, general of the army ....... R. Sharpe. 
 
 Eubulus, an old counsellor ......... J. Lowin. 
 
 Mathias, a knight of Bohemia ........ J.Taylor. 
 
 Ubaldo > . f T. Pollard. 
 
 Ricardo, ^ causers ......... | E . Swanstone. 
 
 Julio Baptista, a great scholar ........ W. Pen. 
 
 Hilario, servant to Sophia ......... J. Shancke. 
 
 Two Boys, representing Apollo and Pallas. 
 
 Two Couriers. 
 
 A Guide. 
 
 Servants to the queen. 
 
 Servants to Mathias. 
 
 Honoria, the queen ............ J. Thomson. 
 
 J. Hunnieman. 
 
 A ' G 
 
 Sophia, wife to Mathias 
 
 Corisca, Sophia's woman ......... W. Trigge. 
 
 Maskers, Attendants, Officers, Captains, &c. 
 
 SCENE, Partly in Hungary, and partly in Bohemia. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 SCENE \.-The Frontiers of Bohemia. 
 Enter Mathias, Sophia, Corisca, Hilario, 
 
 with other Servants. 
 Math. Since we must part, Sophia, to 
 
 pass further 
 
 Is not alone impertinent, but dangerous. 
 We are not distant from the Turkish camp 
 Above five leagues, and who knows but 
 
 some party 
 
 Of his Timariots, that scour the country, 
 May fall upon us? be now, as thy name, 
 Truly interpreted, hath ever spoke thee, 
 Wise, and discreet ; and to thy understanding 
 Marry thy constant patience. 
 
 Soph. You put me, sir, 
 To the utmost trial of it. 
 
 Math. Nay, no melting ; 
 Since the necessity that now separates us, 
 We have long since disputed, and the reasons 
 Forcing me to it, too oft wash'd in tears. 
 I grant that you, in birth, were far above me, 
 And great men, my superiors, rivals for you ; 
 But mutual consent of heart, as hands, 
 Join'd by true love, hath made us one, and 
 
 equal : 
 
 Nor is it in me mere desire of fame, 
 Or to be cried up by the public voice, 
 
 For a brave soldier, that puts on my armour : 
 Such airy tumours take not me. You know 
 How narrow our demeans are, and what's 
 
 more, 
 
 Having as yet no charge of children on us r 
 We hardly can subsist. 
 
 Soph. In you alone, sir, 
 I have all abundance. 
 
 Math. For my mind's content, 
 In your own language I could answer you. 
 You have been an obedient wife, a right one ; 
 And to my power, though short of your 
 
 desert, 
 
 I have been ever an indulgent husband. 
 We have long enjoy 'd the sweets of love, 
 
 and though 
 
 Not to satiety, or loathing, yet 
 We must not live such dotards on our 
 
 pleasures, 
 
 As still to hug them, to the certain loss 
 Of profit and preferment. Competent means 
 Maintains a quiet bed ; want breeds dis- 
 
 sention, 
 Even in good women. 
 
 Soph. Have you found in me, sir, 
 Any distaste, or sign of discontent, 
 For want of what's superfluous ? 
 
 Math. No, Sophia ; 
 Nor shalt thou ever have cause to repent 
 
THE PICTURE. 
 
 285 
 
 Thy constant course in goodness, if heaven 
 
 bless 
 
 My honest undertakings. 'Tis for thee 
 That I turn soldier, and put forth, dearest, 
 Upon this sea of action, as a factor, 
 To trade for rich materials to adorn 
 Thy noble parts, and shew them in full lustre. 
 I blush that other ladies, less in beauty 
 And outward form, but in the harmony 
 Of the soul's ravishing music, the same age 
 Not to be named with thee, should so out- 
 shine thee 
 
 In jewels, and variety of wardrobes ; 
 While you, to whose sweet innocence both 
 
 Indies 
 
 Compared are of no value, wanting these, 
 Pass unregarded. 
 
 Soph. If I am so rich, or 
 In your opinion, why should you borrow 
 Additions for me ? 
 
 Math. Why ! I should be censured 
 Of ignorance, possessing such a jewel 
 Above all price, if I forbear to give it 
 The best of ornaments : therefore, Sophia, 
 In few words know my pleasure, and obey 
 
 me, 
 As you have ever done. To your discretion 
 
 leave the government of my family, 
 And our poor fortunes ; and from these com- 
 mand 
 
 Obedience to you, as to myself : 
 To the utmost of what's mine, live plenti- 
 fully ; 
 
 And, ere the remnant of our store be spent, 
 With my good sword I hope I shall reap for 
 
 you 
 
 A harvest in such full abundance, as 
 Shall make a merry winter. 
 Soph. Since you are not 
 To be diverted, sir, from what you purpose, 
 All arguments to stay you here are useless : 
 Go when you please, sir. Eyes, I charge 
 
 you waste not 
 
 One drop of sorrow ; look you hoard all up 
 Till in my widow'd bed I call upon you, 
 But then be sure you fail not. You blest 
 
 angels, 
 
 Guardians of human life, I at this instant 
 Forbear t'invoke you : at our parting, 'twere 
 To personate devotion. My soul 
 Shall go along with you, and, when you are 
 Circled with death and horror, seek and 
 
 find you ; 
 
 And then I will not leave a saint unsued to 
 For your protection. To tell you what 
 I will do in your absence, would shew 
 
 poorly ; 
 
 My actions shall speak for me : 'twere to 
 doubt you, 
 
 To beg I may hear from you ; where you are 
 You cannot live obscure, nor shall one post, 
 By night or day, pass unexamined by me. 
 If I dwell long upon your lips, consider, 
 
 [Kisses him. 
 
 After this feast, the griping fast that follows, 
 And it will be excusable ; pray turn from me. 
 All that I can, is spoken. [Exit. 
 
 Math. Follow your mistress. 
 Forbear your wishes for me ; let me find them, 
 At my return, in your prompt will to serve 
 
 her. 
 Hil. For my part, sir, I will grow lean 
 
 with study 
 To make her merry. 
 
 Coris. Though you are my lord, 
 Yet being her gentlewoman, by my place 
 I may take my leave ; your hand, or, if you 
 
 please 
 
 To have me fight so high, I'll not be coy, 
 But stand a-tip-toe for't. 
 Math. O. farewell, girl ! \Kisses her. 
 Hil. A kiss well begg'd, Corisca. 
 Coris. 'Twas my fee ; 
 Love, how he melts ! I cannot blame my 
 
 lady's 
 Unwillingness to part with such marmalade 
 
 lips. 
 There will be scrambling for them in the 
 
 camp ; 
 And were it not for my honesty, I could 
 
 wish now 
 
 I were his leaguer laundress ; I would find 
 Soap of mine own, enough to wash his linen, 
 Or I would strain hard for't. 
 
 Hil. How the mammet twitters ! 
 Come, come ; my lady stays for us. 
 
 Coris. Would I had been 
 Her ladyship the last night ! 
 Hil. No more of that, wench. 
 
 \Exeunt Hilario, Corisca, and the rest. 
 Math. I am strangely troubled, yet why I 
 
 should nourish 
 
 A fury here, and with imagined food, 
 Having no real grounds on which to raise 
 A building of suspicion she was ever 
 Or can be false hereafter. I in this 
 But foolishly enquire the knowledge of 
 A future sorrow, which, if I find out, 
 My present ignorance were a cheap purchase, 
 Though with my loss of being. I have al- 
 ready 
 Dealt with a friend of mine, a general 
 
 scholar, 
 
 One deeply read in nature's hidden secrets, 
 And, though with much unwillingness, have 
 
 won him 
 
 To do as much as art can, to resolve me 
 My fate that follows To my wish, he's come. 
 
286 
 
 THE PICTURE. 
 
 Enter Baptista. 
 
 Julio Baptista, now I may affirm 
 
 Your promise and performance walk 
 
 together ; 
 And therefore, without circumstance, to the 
 
 point : 
 Instruct me what I am. 
 
 Bapt. I could wish you had 
 Made trial of my love some other way. 
 Math. Nay, this is from the purpose. 
 Bapt. If you can 
 
 Proportion your desire to any mean, 
 I do pronounce you happy ; I have found 
 By certain rules of art, your matchless wife 
 Is to this present hour from all pollution 
 Free, and untainted. 
 Math. Good. 
 
 Bapt. In reason, therefore, 
 You should fix here, and make no further 
 
 search 
 Of what may fall hereafter. 
 
 Math. O, Baptista, 
 
 'Tis not in me to master so my passions ; 
 I must "know further, or you have made good 
 But half your promise. While my love stood 
 
 by, 
 
 Holding her upright, and my presence was 
 A watch upon her, her desires being met 
 
 too 
 
 With equal ardour from me, what one proof 
 Could she give of her constancy, being un- 
 
 tempted ? 
 
 But when I am absent, and my coming back 
 Uncertain, and those wanton heats in women, 
 Not to be quench 'd by lawful means, and she 
 The absolute disposer of herself, 
 Without control or curb ; nay, more, invited 
 By opportunity, and all strong temptations, 
 If then she hold out 
 Bapt. As, no doubt, she will. 
 Math. Those doubts must be made cer- 
 tainties, Baptista, 
 
 By your assurance ; or your boasted art 
 Deserves no admiration. How you trifle, 
 And play with my affliction ! I am on 
 The rack, till you confirm me. 
 
 Bapt. Sure, Mathias, 
 I am no god, nor can I dive into 
 Her hidden thoughts, or know what her 
 
 intents are ; 
 
 That is denied to art, and kept conceal'd 
 E'en from the devils themselves : they can 
 
 but guess, 
 
 Out of long observation, what is likely ; 
 But positively to fortel that shall be, 
 You may conclude impossible. All I can, 
 I will do for you ; when you are distant from 
 
 her 
 
 A thousand leagues, as if you then were with. 
 
 her, 
 
 You shall know truly when she is solicited, 
 And how far wrought on. 
 
 Math. I desire no more. 
 
 Bapt. Take then this little model of Sophia, 
 With more than human skill limn'd to the 
 life ; [Gives him a picture. 
 
 Each line and lineament of it, in the drawing, 
 So punctually observed, that, had it motion, 
 In so much 'twere herself. 
 
 Math. It is, indeed, 
 An admirable piece ! but if it have not 
 Some hidden virtue that I cannot guess at, 
 In what can it advantage me ? 
 
 Bapt. I'll instruct you : 
 Carry it still about you, and as oft 
 As you desire to know how she's affected, 
 With curious eyes peruse it : while it keeps 
 The figure it now has, entire and perfect, 
 She is not only innocent in fact, 
 But unattempted ; but if once it vary 
 From the true form, and what's now white 
 
 and red 
 
 Incline to yellow, rest most confident 
 She's with all violence courted, but uncon- 
 
 quer'd ; 
 
 But if it turn all black, 'tis an assurance 
 The fort, by composition or surprise, 
 Is forced, or with her free consent sur- 
 render'd. 
 
 Math. How much you have engaged me 
 
 for this favour, 
 The service of my whole life shall make good. 
 
 Bapt. We will not part so, I'll along with 
 
 you, 
 
 And it is needful : with the rising sun, 
 The armies meet ; yet, ere the fight begin,. 
 In spite of opposition, I will place you 
 In the head of the Hungarian general's troop. 
 And near his person. 
 
 Math. As my better angel, 
 You shall direct and guide me. 
 
 Bapt. As we ride 
 I'll tell you more. 
 
 Math. In all things I'll obey you. 
 
 [Exevnt. 
 
 SCENE II. Hungary. Alba Rcgalis. 
 A State-room in the Palace. 
 Enter Ubaldo and Ricardo. 
 Ric. When came the post ? 
 Ubald. The last night. 
 Ric. From the camp ? 
 Ubald. Yes, as 'tis said, and the letter 
 
 writ and sign'd 
 By the general, Ferdinand. 
 
 Ric. Nay, then, sans question, 
 It is of moment. 
 
THE PICTURE. 
 
 287 
 
 Ubald. It concerns the lives 
 Of two great armies. 
 
 Ric. Was it cheerfully 
 Received by the king? 
 
 Ubald. Yes ; for being assured 
 The armies were in view of one another, 
 Having proclaim'd a public fast and prayer 
 For the good success, [he] dispatch'd a gen- 
 tleman 
 
 Of his privy chamber to the general 
 With absolute authority from him, 
 To try the fortune of a day. 
 
 Ric. No doubt then 
 The general will come on, and fight it 
 
 bravely. 
 
 Heaven prosper him ! This military art, 
 I grant to be the noblest of professions ; 
 And yet, I thank my stars for't, I was never 
 Inclined to learn it : since this bubble honour 
 (Which is, indeed, the nothing soldiers fight 
 
 for,) 
 With the loss of limbs or life, is, in my 
 
 judgment, 
 Too dear a purchase. 
 
 Ubald. Give me our court warfare : 
 The danger is not great in the encounter^ 
 Of a fair mistress. 
 
 Ric. Fair and sound together 
 Do very well, Ubaldo ; but such are, 
 With difficulty, to be found out ; and when 
 
 they know 
 Their value, prized too high. By thy own 
 
 report, 
 Thou wast at twelve a gamester, and since 
 
 that, 
 Studied all kinds of females, from thenight- 
 
 trader 
 
 I' the street, with certain danger to thy pocket, 
 To the great lady in her cabinet ; 
 That spent upon thee more in cullises, 
 To strengthen thy weak back, than would 
 
 maintain 
 Twelve Flanders mares, and as many 
 
 running horses : 
 
 Besides apothecaries and surgeons' bills, 
 Paid upon all occasions, and those frequent. 
 Ubald. You talk, Ricardo, as if yet you 
 
 were 
 A novice in those mysteries. 
 
 Ric. By no means ; 
 My doctor can assure the contrary : 
 I lose no time. I have felt the pain and 
 
 pleasure, 
 
 As he that is a gamester, and plays often, 
 Must sometimes be a loser. 
 Ubald. Wherefore, then, 
 Do you envy me ? 
 
 Ric. It grows not from my want, 
 Nor thy abundance ; but being, as I am, 
 
 The likelier man, and of much more ex- 
 perience, 
 
 My good parts are my curses : there's no 
 beauty, 
 
 But yields ere it be summon'd ; and, as 
 nature 
 
 Had sign'd me the monopoly of maidenheads, 
 
 There's none can buy till I have made my 
 market. 
 
 Satiety cloys me ; as I live, I would part 
 with 
 
 Half my estate, nay, travel o'er the world, 
 
 To find that only phcenix in my search, 
 
 That could hold out against me. 
 Ubald. Be not rapt so ; 
 
 You may spare that labour. As she is a. 
 woman, 
 
 What think you of the queen? 
 Ric. I dare not aim at 
 
 The petticoat royal, that is still excepted : 
 
 Yet, were she not my king's, being the ab- 
 stract. 
 
 Of all that's rare, or to bewish'd in woman, 
 
 To write her in my catalogue, having en- 
 joy 'd her, 
 
 I would venture my neck to a halter but 
 we talk of 
 
 Impossibilities : as she hath a beauty 
 
 Would make old Nestor young ; such 
 majesty 
 
 Draws forth a sword of terror to defend it, 
 
 As would fright Paris, though the queen of 
 love 
 
 Vow'd her best furtherance to him. 
 Ubald. Have you observed 
 
 The gravity of her language, mix'd with 
 
 sweetness ? 
 
 Ric. Then, at what distance she reserves 
 herself, 
 
 When theking himself makes his approaches 
 
 to her 
 
 Ubald. As she were still a virgin, and his 
 life 
 
 But one continued wooing. 
 Ric. She well knows 
 
 Her worth, and values it. 
 
 Ubald. And so far the king is 
 
 Indulgent to her humours, that he forbears 
 
 The duty of a husband, but when she calls 
 
 for't. 
 Ric. All his imaginations and thoughts 
 
 Are buried in her ; the loud noise of war 
 
 Cannot awake him. 
 
 Ubald. At this very instant, 
 
 When both his life and crown are at the 
 stake, 
 
 He only studies her content, and when 
 
 She's pleased to show herself, music and. 
 masques 
 
^288 
 
 THE PICTURE. 
 
 Are with all care and cost provided for 
 her. 
 
 Ric. This night she promised to appear. 
 
 Ubald. You may 
 
 Believe it by the diligence of the king, 
 As if he were her harbinger. 
 
 Enter Ladislaus, Eubulus, and Attendants 
 with perfumes. 
 
 Ladis. These rooms 
 Are not perfumed, as we directed, 
 
 Eubu. Not, sir ! 
 I know not what you would have ; I am 
 
 sure the smoak 
 Cost treble the price of the whole week's 
 
 provision 
 Spent in your majesty's kitchens. 
 
 Ladis. How I scorn 
 
 Thy gross comparison ! When my Honoria, 
 The amazement of the present time, and envy 
 Of all succeeding ages, does descend 
 To sanctify a place, and in her presence 
 Makes it a temple to me, can I be 
 Too curious, much less prodigal to receive 
 
 her? 
 
 But that the splendour of her beams of beauty 
 Hath struck thee blind 
 Eubu. As dotage hath done you. 
 Ladis. Dotage ? O blasphemy ! is it in me 
 To serve her to her merit ? Is she not 
 The daughter of a king? 
 
 Eubu. And you the son 
 Of ours, I take it ; by what privilege else, 
 Do you reign over us ? for my part, I know not 
 I Where the disparity lies. 
 
 Ladis. Her birth, old man, 
 i 'Old in the kingdom's service, which protects 
 
 thee, 
 Is the least grace in her : and though her 
 
 beauties 
 
 Might make the Thunderer a rival for her, 
 They are but superficial ornaments, 
 And faintly speak her : from her heavenly 
 
 mind, 
 
 Were all antiquity and fiction lost, 
 Our modern poets could not, in their fancy, 
 But fashion a Minerva far transcending 
 The imagined one whom Homer only dreamt 
 
 of. 
 
 But then add this, she's mine, mine, Eubulus ! 
 And though she knows one glance from her 
 
 fair eyes 
 
 Must make all gazers her idolaters, 
 She is so sparing of their influence 
 That, to shun superstition in others, 
 She shoots her powerful beams only at me. 
 And can I, then, whom she desires to hold 
 Her kingly captive above all the world, 
 Whose nations and empires, if she pleased, 
 
 She might command as slaves, but gladly pay 
 The humble tribute of my love and service, 
 Nay, if I said of adoration, to her, 
 I did not err ? 
 
 Eubu. Well, since you hug your fetters, 
 In Love's name wear them ! You are a king, 
 
 and that 
 Concludes you wise : your will a powerful 
 
 reason, 
 Which we, that are foolish subjects, must 
 
 not argue. 
 
 And what in a mean man I should call folly, 
 Is in your majesty remarkable wisdom : 
 But for me, I subscribe. 
 
 Ladis. Do, and look up, 
 Upon this wonder. 
 
 Loud music. Enter Honoria in state, under 
 a Canopy ; her train borne rip by Sylvia 
 and Acanthe. 
 
 Ric. Wonder ! It is more, sir. 
 
 Ubald. A rapture, an astonishment. 
 
 Ric. W r hat think you, sir? 
 
 Eubu. As the king thinks ; that is the 
 
 surest guard 
 
 We courtiers ever lie at. Was prince ever 
 So'drown'd in dotage? Without spectacles 
 I can see a handsome woman, and she is so : 
 But yet to admiration look not on her. 
 Heaven, how he fawns ! and, as it were his 
 
 duty, 
 
 With what assured gravity she receives it ! 
 Her hand again ! O she at length vouchsafes 
 Her lip, and as he had sucked nectar from it, 
 How he's exalted ! Women in their natures 
 Affect command ; but this humility 
 In a husband and a king, marks her the way 
 To absolute tyranny. 
 
 \T'he king seats her on his throne. 
 
 So ! Juno's placed 
 
 In Jove's tribunal : and, like Mercury, 
 (Forgetting his own greatness,) he attends 
 For her employments. She prepares to 
 
 speak ; 
 What oracles shall we hear now? [Aside. 
 
 Hon. That you please, sir, 
 With such assurances of love and favour, 
 To grace your handmaid, but in being 
 
 yours, sir, 
 A matchless queen, and one that knows 
 
 herself so, 
 
 Binds me in retribution to deserve 
 The grace conferr'd upon me. 
 
 Ladis. You transcend 
 In all things excellent : and it is my glory, 
 Your worth weigh'd truly, to depose myself 
 From absolute command, surrendering up 
 My will and faculties to your disposure : 
 And here I vow, not for a day or year, 
 
THE PICTURE. 
 
 289 
 
 But my whole life, which I wish long, to 
 
 serve you, 
 
 That whatsoever I, in justice, may 
 Exact from these my subjects, you from me 
 May boldly challenge : and when you re- 
 quire it, 
 
 In sign of my subjection, as your vassal, 
 Thus I will pay my homage. 
 
 Hon. O forbear, sir ! 
 Let not my lips envy my robe ; on them 
 Print your allegiance often : I desire 
 No other fealty. 
 
 Ladis. Gracious sovereign ! 
 Boundless in bounty ! 
 
 Eubit. Is not here fine fooling ! 
 He's questionless, bewitch'd. Would I were 
 
 gelt, 
 So that would disenchant him ! though I 
 
 forfeit 
 
 My life for't, I must speak. By your good 
 leave, sir [Passing before the king. 
 I have no suit to you, nor can you grant one, 
 Having no power : you are like me, a subject, 
 Her more than serene majesty being present. 
 And I must tell you, 'tis ill manners in you, 
 Havingdeposed yourself, to keep yourhaton, 
 And not stand bare, as we do, being no king, 
 But a fellow-subject with us. Gentlemen- 
 ushers, 
 
 It does belong to your place, see it reform'd ; 
 He has given away his crown, and cannot 
 
 challenge 
 
 The privilege of his bonnet. 
 Ladis. Do not tempt me. 
 Eubu. Tempt you ! in what? in following 
 
 your example ? 
 
 If you are angry, question me hereafter, 
 As Ladislaus should do Eubulus, 
 On equal terms. You were of late my sove- 
 reign, 
 
 But weary of it, I now bend my knee 
 To her divinity, and desire a boon 
 From her more than magnificence. 
 
 Hon. Take it freely. 
 Nay, be not moved ; for our mirth's sake let 
 
 us hear him. 
 Eubu. 'Tis but to ask a question : Have 
 
 you ne'er read 
 
 The story of Semiramis and Ninus ? 
 Hon. Not as I remember. 
 Eubu. I will then instruct you, 
 And 'tis to the purpose : This Ninus was a 
 
 king, 
 
 And such an impotent loving king as this was, 
 But now he's none ; this Ninus (pray you 
 
 observe me) 
 
 Doted on this Semiramis, a smith's wife ; 
 (I must confess, there the comparison holds 
 not, 
 
 You are a king's daughter, yet, under your 
 
 correction, 
 
 Like her, a woman ;) this Assyrian monarch, 
 Of whom this is a pattern, to express 
 His love and service, seated her, as you are, 
 In his regal throne, and bound by oath his 
 
 nobles, 
 
 Forgetting all allegiance to himself, 
 One day to be her subjects, and to put 
 In execution whatever she 
 Pleased to impose upon them : pray you 
 
 command him 
 
 To minister the like to us, and then 
 You shall hear what follow'd. 
 
 Ladis. Well, sir, to your story. 
 
 Eubu. You have no warrant, stand by ; 
 
 let me know 
 Your pleasure, goddess. 
 
 Hon. Let this nod assure you. 
 
 Eubu. Goddess-like, indeed ! as I live, a 
 
 pretty idol ! 
 
 She knowing her power, wisely made use of it ; 
 And fearing his inconstancy, and repentance 
 Of what he had granted, (as, in reason, 
 
 madam, 
 
 You may do his, ) that he might never have 
 Power to recall his grant, or question her 
 For her short government, instantly gave 
 
 order 
 To have his head struck off. 
 
 Ladis. Is't possible ? 
 
 Eubu. The story says so, and commends 
 
 her wisdom 
 
 For making use of her authority. 
 And it is worth your imitation, madam : 
 He loves subjection, and you are no queen, 
 Unless you make him feel the weight of it. 
 You are more than all the world to him, 
 
 and that 
 
 He may be so to you, and not seek change, 
 When his delights are sated, mew him up 
 In some close prison, (if you let him live, 
 Which is no policy,) and there diet him 
 As you think fit, to feed your appetite ; 
 Since there ends his ambition. 
 
 Ubald. Devilish counsel ! 
 
 Ric. The king's amazed. 
 
 Ubald. The queen appears, too, full 
 Of deep imaginations ; Eubulus 
 Hath put both to it. 
 
 Ric. Now she seems resolved : 
 I long to know the issue. 
 
 [Honoria descends from the throne. 
 
 Hon. Give me leave, 
 Dear sir, to reprehend you for appearing 
 Perplex' d with what this old man, out of envy 
 Of your unequal graces shower'd upon me, 
 Hath, in his fabulous story, saucily 
 Applied to me. Sir, that you only nourish 
 
THE PICTURE. 
 
 One doubt Honoria dares abuse the power 
 With which she is invested by your favour ; 
 Or that she ever can make use of it 
 To the injury of you, the great bestower, 
 Takes from your judgment. It was your 
 
 delight 
 
 To seek to me with more obsequiousness 
 Than I desired : and stood it with my duty 
 Not to receive what you were pleased to 
 
 offer? 
 
 I do but act the part you put upon me, 
 And though you make mepersonate a queen, 
 And you my subject, when the play, your 
 
 pleasure, 
 
 Is at a period, I am what I was 
 Before I enter'd, still your humble wife, 
 And you my royal sovereign. 
 
 Ric. Admirable ! 
 
 Hon. I have heard of captains taken more 
 
 with dangers 
 
 Than the rewards ; and if, in your approaches 
 To those delights which are your own, and 
 
 freely, 
 
 To heighten your desire, you make the pas- 
 sage 
 
 Narrow and difficult, shall I prescribe you, 
 Or blame your fondness ? or can that swell 
 
 me 
 Beyond my just proportion ? 
 
 Ubald. Above wonder ! 
 
 Ladis. Heaven make me thankful for such 
 goodness ! 
 
 Hon. Now, sir, 
 
 The state I took to satisfy your pleasure, 
 I change to this humility ; and the oath 
 You made to me of homage, I thus cancel, 
 And seat you in your own. 
 
 [Leads the king to the throne. 
 
 Ladis. I am transported 
 Beyond myself. 
 
 Hon. And now, to your wise lordship : 
 Am I proved a Semiramis ? or hath 
 My Ninus, as maliciously you made him, 
 Cause to repent the excess of favour to me, 
 Which you call dotage ? 
 
 -Ladis. Answer, wretch ! 
 
 Eubu. I dare, sir, 
 
 And say, however the event may plead 
 In your defence, you had a guilty cause ; 
 Nor was it wisdom in you, I repeat it, 
 To teach a lady, humble in herself, 
 With the ridiculous dotage of a lover, 
 'To be ambitious. 
 
 Hon. Eubulus, I am so ; 
 ! Tis rooted in me ; you mistake my temper. 
 : I do profess myself to be the most 
 Ambitious of my sex, but not to hold 
 Command over my lord ; such aproud torrent 
 "Would sink me in my wishes : not that I 
 
 Am ignorant how much I can deserve, 
 And may with justice challenge. 
 
 Eubu. This I look'd for ; 
 After this seeming humble ebb, I knew 
 A gushing tide would follow. [Aside. 
 
 Hon . By my birth, 
 
 And liberal gifts of nature, as of fortune, 
 From you, as things beneath me, I expect 
 What's due to majesty, in which I am 
 A sharer with your sovereign. 
 
 Eubu. Good again ! 
 
 Hon. And as I am most eminent in place, 
 In all my actions I would appear so. 
 
 Ladis. You need not fear a rival. 
 
 Hon. I hope not ; 
 
 And till I find one, I disdain to know 
 What envy is. 
 
 Ladis. You' are above it, madam. 
 
 Hon. For beauty without art, discourse, 
 
 and free 
 
 From affectation, with what graces else 
 Can in the wife and daughter of a king 
 Be wish'd, I dare prefer myself, as 
 
 Eubu. I 
 Blush for you, lady. Trumpet your own 
 
 praises ! 
 
 This spoken by the people had been heard 
 With honour to you. Does the court afford 
 No oil-tongued parasite, that you are forced 
 To be your own gross flatterer ? 
 
 Ladis. Be dumb, 
 Thou spirit of contradiction ! 
 
 Hon. The wolf 
 
 But barks against the moon, and I contemn it. 
 The mask you promised. 
 
 [A horn sounded within. 
 
 Ladis. Let them enter. 
 
 Enter a Courier. 
 
 How ! 
 
 Eubu. Here's one, I fear, unlook'd for. 
 Ladis. From the camp ? 
 Cuur. The general, victorious in your 
 
 fortune, 
 Kisses your hand in this, sir. " 
 
 [Delivers a letter. 
 Ladis. That great Power, 
 Who at his pleasure does dispose of battles, 
 Be ever praised for't ! Read, sweet, and 
 
 partake it : 
 
 The Turk is vanquish'd, and with little loss 
 
 Upon our part, in which our joy is doubled. 
 
 Eubu. But let it not exalt 5 ou ; bear it, sir, 
 
 With moderation, and pay what you owe 
 
 for't. 
 Ladis. I understand thee, Eubulus. I'll 
 
 not now 
 
 Enquire particulars. [Exit Courier.] Our 
 delights deferr'd, 
 
THE PICTURE. 
 
 291 
 
 With reverence to the temples ; there we'll 
 
 tender 
 
 Our souls' devotions to his dread might, 
 Who edged our swords, and taught us how 
 
 to fight. [Exeunt. 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 SCENE I. Bohemia. A Hall in Mathias' 
 
 House. 
 
 Enter Hilario and Corisca. 
 Hil. You like my speech ? 
 Coris. Yes, if you give it action 
 In the delivery. 
 
 Hil. If ! I pity you. 
 I have play'd the fool before ; this is not the 
 
 first time, 
 
 Nor shall be, I hope, the last. 
 Coris. Nay, I think so too. 
 Hil. And if I put her not out of her 
 
 dumps with laughter, 
 I'll make her howl for anger. 
 
 Coris. Not too much 
 
 Of that, good fellow Hilario : our sad lady 
 Hath drank too often of that bitter cup ; 
 A pleasant one must restore her. With what 
 
 patience 
 W T ould she endure to hear of the death of 
 
 my lord ; 
 
 : That, merely out of doubt he may miscarry, 
 I Afflicts herself thus ? 
 
 Hil. Umph ! 'tis a question 
 i A widow only can resolve. There be some 
 i That in their husband's sicknesses have wept 
 Their pottle of tears a day ; but being once 
 
 certain 
 
 . At midnight he was dead, have in the morning 
 | Dried up their handkerchiefs, and thought no 
 
 more on't. 
 Coris. Tush, she is none of that race ; if 
 
 her sorrow 
 
 Be not true and perfect, I, against my sex. 
 Will take my oath woman ne'er wept in 
 
 earnest. 
 She has made herself a prisoner to her 
 
 chamber, 
 
 Dark as a dungeon, in which no beam 
 Of comfort enters. She admits no visits ; 
 Eats little, and her nightly music is 
 Of sighs and groans, tuned to such harmony 
 Of feeling grief, that I, against my nature, 
 Am made one of the consort. This hour only 
 She takes the air, a custom every day 
 She solemnly observes, with greedy hopes, 
 From some that pass by, to receive assurance 
 Of the success and safety of her lord. 
 Now, if that your device will take 
 Hil. Ne'er fear it : 
 
 I am provided cap-a-pie, and have 
 My properties in readiness. 
 
 Soph. [within.~\ Bring my veil, there. 
 
 Coris. Begone, I hear her coming. 
 
 Hil. If I do not 
 
 Appear, and, what's more, appear perfect, 
 hiss me. [Exit. 
 
 Enter Sophia. 
 
 Soph. I was flatter'd once, I was a star, 
 
 but now 
 
 Turn'd a prodigious meteor, and, like one, 
 Hang in the air between my hopes and fears ; 
 And every hour, the little stuff burnt out 
 That yields a waning light to dying comfort, 
 I do expect my fall, and certain ruin. 
 In wretched things more wretched is delay ; 
 And Hope, a parasite to me, being un- 
 
 maskd, 
 
 Appears more horrid than Despair, and my 
 Distraction worse than madness. Even my 
 
 prayers, 
 When with most zeal sent upward, are pull'd 
 
 down 
 
 With strong imaginary doubts and fears, 
 And in their sudden precipice o'erwhelm me. | 
 Dreams and fantastic visions walk the round 
 About my widow'd bed, and every slumber's ; 
 Broken with loud alarms : can these be then 
 But sad presages, girl ? 
 
 Coris. You make them so, 
 And antedate a loss shall ne'er fall on you. 
 Such pure affection, such mutual love, 
 A bed, and undefiled on either part, 
 A house without contention, in two bodies 
 One will and soul, like to the rod of concord, 
 Kissing each other, cannot be short-lived, 
 Or end in barrenness. If all these, dear 
 
 madam, 
 (Sweet in your sadness,) should produce no 
 
 fruit, 
 
 Or leave the age no models of yourselves, 
 To witness to posterity what you were ; 
 Succeeding times, frighted with the example, 
 But hearing of your story, would instruct 
 Their faires issue to meet sensually, 
 Like other creatures, and forbear to raise 
 True Love, or Hymen, altars. 
 
 Soph. O Corisca, 
 
 I know thy reasons are like to thy wishes ; 
 And they are built upon a weak foundation, 
 To raise me comfort. Ten long days are past, 
 Ten long days, my Corisca, since my lord 
 Embark'd himself upon a sea of danger, 
 In his dear care of me. And if his life 
 Had not been shipwreck'd on the rock of 
 
 war, 
 
 His tenderness of me (knowing how much 
 I languish for his absence) had provided 
 
 U 2 
 
THE PICTURE. 
 
 | Some trusty friend, from whom I might 
 
 ! receive 
 Assurance of his safety. 
 
 Coris. Ill news, madam, 
 Are swallow-wing 'd, but what's good walks 
 
 on crutches : 
 
 With patience expect it, and, ere long, 
 No doubt you shall hear from him. 
 
 [A horn ivitJiout. 
 Soph. Ha ! What's that? 
 Coris. The fool has got a sowgelder's 
 
 horn. {Aside.} A post, 
 As I take it, madam. 
 
 Soph. It makes this way still ; 
 Nearer and nearer. 
 
 Coris. From the camp, I hope. 
 
 Enter one disguised as a Courier, with a 
 horn; followed by Hilario, in antic 
 armour, with long white hair and beard. 
 
 Soph. The messenger appears, and in 
 strange armour. 
 
 Heaven ! if it be thy will 
 
 Hil. It is no boot 
 To strive ; our horses tired, let's walk on 
 
 foot: 
 ' And that the castle, which is very near us, 
 
 I To give us entertainment, may soon hear us, 
 Blow lustily, my lad, and drawing nigh-a, 
 Ask for a lady which is cleped Sophia. 
 Coris. He names you, madam. 
 Hil. For to her I bring, 
 Thus clad in arms, news of a pretty thing, 
 By name Mathias. [Exit Courier. 
 
 Soph. From my lord ? O sir, 
 I am Sophia, that Mathias' wife. 
 So may Mars favour you in all your battles, 
 As you with speed unload me of the burthen 
 
 I labour under, till I am confirm 'd 
 i Both where and how you left him ! 
 
 Hil. If thou art, 
 
 As I believe, the pigsney of his heart, 
 Know he's in health, and what's more, full 
 
 of glee ; 
 
 And so much I was will'd to say to thee. 
 Soph. Have you no letters from him ? 
 Hil. No more words. 
 \ In the camp we use no pens, but write with 
 
 swords : 
 
 , Yet, as I am enjoin'd, by word of mouth 
 i I will proclaim his deeds'from north to south ; 
 ! But tremble not, while I relate the wonder, 
 Though my eyes like lightning shine, and my 
 
 voice thunder. 
 
 Soph. This is some counterfeit braggart. 
 Coris. Hear him, madam. 
 Hil. The rear march 'd first, which fol- 
 
 low'd by the van, 
 And wing'd with the battalia, no man 
 
 Durst stay to shift a shirt, or louse himself ; 
 Yet, ere the armies join'd, that hopeful elf, 
 Thy dear, thy dainty duckling, bold Mathias, 
 Advanced, and stared like Hercules or 
 
 Golias. 
 
 A hundred thousand Turks, it is no vaunt, 
 Assail'd him ; every one a Termagaunt : 
 But what did he, then ! with his keen-edge 
 
 spear 
 He cut and carbonaded them : here and 
 
 there 
 
 Lay legs and arms ; and, as 'tis said trulee 
 Of Bevis, some he quarter 'd all in three. 
 Soph. This is ridiculous. 
 Hil. I must take breath ; 
 Then, like a nightingale, I'll sing his death. 
 Soph. His death ! 
 
 Hil. I am out. [Aside to Coris. 
 
 Coris. Recover, dunder-head. 
 Hil. How he escaped, I should have 
 
 sung, not died ; 
 
 For, though a knight, when I said so, Hied. 
 Weary he was, and scarce could stand up- 
 right, 
 And looking round for some courageous 
 
 knight 
 
 To rescue him, as one perplex'd in woe, 
 He call'd to me, Help, help, Hilario ! 
 My valiant servant, help ! 
 Coris. He has spoil'd all. 
 Soph. Are you the man of arms, then ? 
 
 I'll make bold 
 To take off your martial beard, you had 
 
 fool's hair 
 Enough without it. Slave ! how durst thou 
 
 make 
 Thy sport of what concerns me more than 
 
 life, 
 
 In such an antic fashion ? Am I grown 
 Contemptible to those I feed ? you, minion, 
 Had a hand in it too, as it appears ; 
 Your petticoat serves for bases to this 
 
 warrior. 
 
 Coris. We did it for your mirth. 
 Hil. For myself, I hope, 
 I have spoke like a soldier. 
 
 Soph. Hence, you rascal ! 
 I never but with reverence name my lord, 
 And can I hear it by thy tongue profaned, 
 And not correct thy folly? but you are 
 Transform'd, and turn'd knight-errant r 
 
 take your course, 
 
 And wanderwhere you please; for here I vow 
 By my lord's life, (an oath I will not break,) 
 Till his return, or certainty of his safety, 
 My doors are shut against thee. [Exit. 
 
 Coris. You have made 
 A fine piece of work on't ! How do you like 
 the quality ? 
 
THE PICTURE. 
 
 293 
 
 You had a foolish itch to be an actor, 
 And may stroll where you please. 
 Hit. Will you buy my share ? 
 Cor is. No, certainly ; I fear I have already 
 Too much of mine own : I'll only, as a 
 
 damsel, 
 {As the books say, ) thus far help to disarm 
 
 you ; 
 
 And so, dear Don Quixote, taking my leave, 
 I leave you to your fortune. [Exit. 
 
 Hi I. Have I sweat 
 
 My brains out for this quaint and rare in- 
 vention, 
 
 And am I thus rewarded ? I could turn 
 Tragedian, and roar now, but that I fear 
 'Twould get me too great a stomach, having 
 
 no meat 
 
 To pacify colon : What will become of me ? 
 I cannot beg in armour, and steal I dare not : 
 My end must be to stand in a corn field, 
 And fright away the crows, for bread and 
 
 cheese ; 
 
 Or find some hollow tree in the highway, 
 And there, until my lord return, sell switches : 
 No more Hilario, but Dolorio now, 
 I'll weep my eyes out, and be blind of purpose 
 To move compassion ; and so I vanish. 
 
 {Exit. 
 
 SCENE II. Alba Regalis. An ante-room 
 
 in the Palace. 
 Enter Eubulus, Ubaldo, Ricardo, and 
 
 others. 
 Eubu. Are the gentlemen sent before, as 
 
 it was order'd 
 
 By the king's direction, to entertain 
 The general ? . 
 
 Ric. Long since ; they by this have met 
 
 him, 
 And given him the bienvenu. 
 
 Eubu. I hope I need not 
 Instruct you in your parts. 
 
 Ubald. How ! us, my lord ! 
 Fear not ; we know our distances and degrees 
 To the very inch where we are to salute him. 
 Ric. The state were miserable, if the 
 
 court had none 
 
 Of her own breed, familiar with all garbs 
 Gracious in England, Italy, Spain, or France ; 
 With form and punctuality to receive 
 Stranger ambassadors : for the general, 
 He's a mere native, and it matters not 
 Which way we do accost him. 
 
 Ubald. Tis great pity 
 That such as sit at the helm provide no 
 
 better 
 For the training up of the gentry. In my 
 
 judgment 
 An academy erected, with large pensions 
 
 To such as in a table could set down 
 
 The congees, cringes, postures, methods, 
 
 phrase, 
 
 Proper to every nation 
 
 Ric. O, it were 
 An admirable piece of work ! 
 Ubald. And yet rich fools 
 Throw away their charity on hospitals 
 For beggars and lame soldiers, and ne'er 
 
 study 
 
 The due regard to compliment and courtship, 
 Matters of more import ; and are indeed 
 The glories of a monarchy ! 
 Eubu. These, no doubt, 
 Are state points, gallants, I confess ; but, sure, 
 Our court needs no aids this way, since it is 
 A school of nothing else. There are some 
 
 of you 
 Whom I forbear to name, whose coining 
 
 heads 
 Are the mints of all new fashions, that have 
 
 done 
 More hurt to the kingdom by superfluous 
 
 bravery, 
 
 Which the foolish gentry imitate, than a war, 
 Or a long famine ; all the treasure, by 
 This foul excess, is got into the merchant, 
 Embroiderer, silkman, jeweller, tailor's hand, 
 And the third part of the land too, the 
 
 nobility 
 
 Engrossing titles only. 
 Ric. My lord, you are bitter. 
 
 [A trumpet. 
 
 Enter a Servant. 
 
 Serv. The general is alighted, and now 
 
 enter'd. 
 
 Ric. Were he ten generals, I am prepared, 
 And know what I will do. 
 
 Eubu. Pray you what, Ricardo? 
 
 Ric. I'll fight at compliment with him. 
 
 Ubald. I'll charge home too. 
 
 Eubt(. And that's a desperate service ; if 
 
 you come off well. 
 
 Enter Ferdinand, Mathias, Baptista, and 
 Captains. 
 
 Ferd. Captain, command the officers to 
 
 keep 
 
 The soldier, as he march 'd, in rank and file, 
 Till they hear further from me. 
 
 \Exeunt Captains. 
 
 Eubu. Here's one speaks 
 In another key ; this is no canting language 
 Taught in your academy. 
 
 Ferd. Nay, I will present you 
 To the king myself. 
 
 Math. A grace beyond my merit. 
 
2 9 4 
 
 THE PICTURE. 
 
 Ferd. You undervalue what I cannot set 
 Too high a price on. 
 
 Eubu. With a friend's true heart, 
 I gratulate your return. 
 
 Ferd. Next to the favour 
 Of the great king, I am happy in your 
 
 friendship. 
 
 Ubald. By courtship, coarse on both sides ! 
 Ferd. Pray you, receive 
 This stranger to your knowledge ; on my 
 
 credit, 
 At all parts he deserves it. 
 
 Eubu. Your report 
 Is a strong assurance to me. Sir, most 
 
 welcome. 
 Math. This said by you, the reverence of 
 
 your age 
 Commands me to believe it. 
 
 Ric. This was pretty ; 
 But second me now. -I cannot stoop too 
 
 low 
 
 To do your excellence that due observance 
 Your fortune claims. 
 Eubu. He ne'er thinks on his virtue ! 
 Ric. For being, as you are, the soul of 
 soldiers, 
 
 And bulwark of Bellona 
 
 Ubald. The protection 
 
 Both of the court and king 
 
 Ric. And the sole minion 
 Of mighty Mars 
 
 Ubald. One that with justice may 
 
 Increase the number of the worthies 
 
 Eubu. Heyday! 
 
 Ric. It being impossible in my arms to 
 circle 
 
 Such giant worth 
 
 Ubald. At distance we presume 
 To kiss your honour 'd gauntlet. 
 
 Eubu. What reply now 
 Can he make to this foppery? 
 
 Ferd. You have said, 
 
 Gallants, so much, and hitherto done so little, 
 That, till I learn to speak, and you to do, 
 I must take time to thank you. 
 
 Eubu. As I live, 
 Answer'd as I could wish. How the fops 
 
 gape now ! 
 
 Ric. This was harsh and scurvy. 
 Ubald. We will be revenged 
 When he comes to court the ladies, and 
 
 laugh at him. 
 Eubu. Nay, do your offices gentlemen, 
 
 and conduct 
 
 The general to the presence. 
 Ric. Keep your order. 
 Ubald. Make way for the general. 
 
 [Exeunt all but Eubulus. 
 Eubu. What wise man, 
 
 That, with judicious eyes, looks on a soldier, 
 But must confess that fortune's swing is more 
 O'er that profession, than all kinds else 
 Of life pursued by man ? They, in a state, 
 Are but as surgeons to wounded men, 
 E'en desperate in their hopes : While pain 
 
 and anguish 
 Make them blaspheme, and call in vain for 
 
 death, 
 Their wives and children kiss the surgeon's 
 
 knees, 
 
 Promise him mountains, if his saving hand 
 Restore the tortured wretch to former 
 
 strength : 
 
 But when grim death, by /Esculapius' art, 
 Is frighted from the house, and health appears 
 In sanguine colours on the sick man's face, 
 All is forgot ; and, asking his reward, 
 He's paid with curses, often receives wounds 
 From him whose wounds he cured : so 
 
 soldiers, 
 Though of more worth and use, meet the 
 
 same fate, 
 As it is too apparent. I have observ'd, 
 When horrid Mars, the touch of whose rough 
 
 hand 
 
 With palsies shakes a kingdom, hath put on 
 His dreadful helmet, and with terror fills 
 The place where he, like an unwelcome guest. 
 Resolves to revel, how the lords of her, like 
 The tradesman, merchant, and litigious 
 
 pleader, 
 And such like scarabs bred in the dung of 
 
 peace, 
 
 In hope of their protection, humbly offer 
 Their daughters to their beds, heirs to their 
 
 sen-ice, 
 And wash with tears their sweat, their dust, 
 
 their scars : 
 
 But when those clouds of war, that menaced 
 A bloody deluge to the affrighted state, 
 Are, by their breath, dispersed, and over- 
 blown, 
 And famine, blood, and death, Bellona's 
 
 pages, 
 
 Whipt from the quiet continent to Thrace ; 
 Soldiers, that, like the foolish hedge-sparrow, 
 To their own ruin, hatch this cuckoo, peace, 
 Are straight thought burthensome ; since 
 
 want of means, 
 
 Growing from want of action, breeds con- 
 tempt : 
 
 And that, the worst of ills, falls to their lot, 
 Their service, with the danger, soon forgot. 
 
 Enter a Servant. 
 
 Serv. The queen, my lord, hath made 
 
 choice of this room, 
 To see the masque. 
 
THE PICTURE. 
 
 295 
 
 Eubu. I'll be a looker on : 
 My dancing days are past. 
 
 Loud music. EnterUbaldo, Ricardo, Ladis- 
 laus, Ferdinand, Honoria, Mathias, Syl- 
 via, Acanthe, Baptista, Captains, and 
 others. As they pass, a Song in praise of 
 war. 
 
 Ladis. This courtesy 
 
 To a stranger, my Honoria, keeps fair rank 
 With all your rarities. After your travail, 
 Look on our court delights ; but first, from 
 
 your 
 
 Relation, with erected ears, I'll hear 
 The music of your war, which must be sweet, 
 Ending in victory. 
 
 Ferd. Not to trouble 
 Your majesties with description of a battle 
 Too full of horror for the place, and to 
 Avoid particulars, which should I deliver, 
 I must trench longer on your patience, than 
 My manners will give way to ; in a word, sir, 
 It was well fought on both sides, and almost 
 With equal fortune, it continuing doubtful 
 Upon whose tents plumed Victory would take 
 Her glorious stand. Impatient of delay, 
 With the flower of our prime gentlemen, I 
 
 charged 
 
 Their main battalia, and with their assistance 
 Brake in ; but, when I was almost assured 
 That they were routed, by a stratagem 
 Of the subtile Turk, who opened his gross 
 
 body, 
 
 And rallied up his troops on either side, 
 I found myself so far engaged, for I 
 Must not conceal my errors, that I knew not 
 Which way with honour to come off. 
 
 Eubu. Hike 
 
 A general that tells his faults, and is not 
 Ambitious to engross unto himself 
 All honour, as some have, in which, with 
 
 justice, 
 They could not claim a share. 
 
 Ferd. Being thus hemm'd in, 
 Their scimitars raged among us ; and, my 
 
 horse 
 
 Kill'd under me, I every minute looked for 
 An honourable end, and that was all 
 My hope could fashion to me : circled thus 
 With death and horror, as one sent from 
 
 heaven, 
 This man of men, with some choice horse, 
 
 that follow'd 
 
 His brave example, did pursue the track 
 His sword cut for them, and, but that I see 
 
 him 
 
 Already blush to hear what he, being present, 
 I know would wish unspoken, I should say, 
 
 sir, 
 
 By what he did, we boldly may believe 
 All that is writ of Hector. 
 
 Math. General, 
 Pray spare these strange hyperboles. 
 
 Eubu. Do not blush 
 
 To hear a truth ; hereareapairofmonsieurs, 
 Had they been in your place, would have run. 
 
 away, 
 And ne'er changed countenance. 
 
 Ubald. We have your good word still. 
 Eubu. And shall, while you deserve it. 
 Ladis. Silence ; on. 
 Ferd. He, as I said, like dreadful lightning 
 
 thrown 
 From Jupiter's shield, dispersed the armed 
 
 gire 
 
 With which I was environed ; horse and man 
 Shrunk under his strong arm : more, with 
 
 his looks 
 
 Frighted, the valiant fled, with which en- 
 couraged, 
 
 Mysoldiers, (like young eaglets preying under 
 The wings of their fierce dam,) as if from him 
 They took both spirit and fire, bravely came 
 
 on. 
 
 By him I was remounted, and inspired 
 With treble courage ; and such as fled before 
 Boldly made head again ; and, to confirm 
 
 them, 
 
 It suddenly was apparent, that the fortune 
 Of the day was ours ; each soldier and com- 
 mander 
 Perform'd his part ; but this was the great 
 
 wheel 
 
 By which the lesser moved : and all rewards 
 And signs of honour, as the civic garland, 
 The mural wreath, the enemy's prime horse, 
 With the general's sword, and armour, (the 
 
 old honours 
 With which the Romans crown'd their several 
 
 leaders,) 
 
 To him alone are proper. 
 Ladis. And they shall 
 Deservedly fall on him. Sit ; 'tis our plea-. 
 
 sure. 
 
 Ferd. Which I must serve, not argue. 
 Hon. You are a stranger, 
 But, in your service for the king, a native. 
 And, though a free queen, I am bound in duty. 
 To cherish virtue wheresoe'er I find it : 
 This place is yours. 
 
 Math. It were presumption in me 
 To sit so near you. 
 
 Hon. Not, having our warrant. 
 
 \_Afusic within. 
 Ladis. Let the masquers enter : by the> 
 
 preparation, 
 
 'Tis a French brawl, an apish imitation 
 Of what you really perform in battle : 
 
2 9 5 
 
 THE PICTURE. 
 
 And Pallas, bound up in a little volume, 
 Apollo, with his lute, attending on her, 
 Serve for the induction. 
 
 Enter Masquers, &c. ' Pallas, accompanied 
 by Apollo on the lute. 
 
 Though we contemplate to express 
 
 The glory of your happiness, 
 That, by your powerful arm, have been 
 
 So true a victor, that no sin 
 Could ever taint you with a blame 
 
 To lessen your deserved fame. 
 
 Or, though we contend to set 
 
 Your worth in the full height, or get 
 Celestial singers crown d with bays, 
 
 With flourishes to dress your praise : 
 You know your conquest ; but your story 
 Lives in your triumphant glory. 
 
 [A Dance. 
 
 Ladis. Our thanks to all. 
 To the banquet that's prepared to entertain 
 them : 
 
 [Exeunt Masquers, Apollo, and Pallas. 
 What \vould my best Honoria ? 
 
 Hon. May it please 
 
 My king, that I, who, by his suffrage, ever 
 Have had power to command, may now 
 
 entreat 
 An honour from him. 
 
 Ladis. Why should you desire 
 What is your own ? whate'er it be, you are 
 The mistress of it. 
 
 Hon. I am happy in 
 
 Your grant : my suit, sir, is, that your com- 
 manders, 
 
 Especially this stranger, may, as I, 
 In my discretion, shall think good, receive 
 What's due to their deserts. 
 
 Ladis. What you determine 
 Shall know no alteration. 
 
 Eubu. The soldier 
 
 Is like to have good usage, when he depends 
 Upon her pleasure ! Are all the men so bad, 
 That, to give satisfaction, we must have 
 A woman treasurer ? Heaven help all ! 
 
 Hon. With you, sir, [To Mathias. 
 
 I will begin, and, as in my esteem 
 You are most eminent, expect to have 
 What's fit for me to give, and you to take. 
 The favour in the quick dispatch being 
 
 double, 
 Go fetch my casket, and with speed. 
 
 [Exit Acanthe. 
 Eubu. The kingdom 
 Is very bare of money, when rewards 
 Issue from the queen's jewel-house. Give 
 
 him gold 
 And store, no question the gentleman wants it. 
 
 Good madam, what shall he do with a hoop 
 
 ring, 
 And a spark of diamond in it ? though you 
 
 take it, 
 
 Re-enter Acanthe with a Casket. 
 
 For the greater honour, from your majesty's 
 
 finger, 
 'Twill not increase the value. He must 
 
 purchase 
 
 Rich suits, the gay caparison of courtship, 
 Revel and feast, which, the war ended, is 
 A soldier's glory ; and 'tis fit that way 
 Your bounty should provide for him. 
 
 Hon. You are rude, 
 And by your narrow thoughts proportion 
 
 mine. 
 
 What I will do now shall be worth the envy 
 Of Cleopatra. Open it ; see here 
 
 [Honoria descends from the state. 
 The lapidary's idol ! Gold is trash, 
 And a poor salary fit for grooms ; wear these, 
 As studded stars in your armour, and make 
 
 the sun 
 
 Look dim with jealousy of a greater light 
 Than his beams gild the day with : when it is 
 Exposed to view, call it Honoria's gift, 
 The queen Honoria's gift, that loves a soldier ; 
 And, to give ornament and lustre to him, 
 Parts freely with her own ! Yet, not to take 
 From the magnificence of the king, I will 
 Dispense his bounty too, but as a page 
 To wait on mine ; for other tosses, take 
 A hundred thousand crowns : your hand, 
 
 dear sir [Takes off the king's signet. 
 
 And this shall be thy warrant. 
 
 Eubu. I perceive 
 
 I was cheated in this woman : now she is 
 In the giving vein to soldiers, let her be proud, 
 And the king dote, so she go on, I care not. 
 Hon. This done, our pleasure is, that all 
 
 arrearages 
 
 Be paid unto the captains, and their troops ; 
 With a large donative, to increase their zeal 
 For the service of the kingdom. 
 
 Eubu. Better still : 
 
 Let men of arms be used thus, if they do not 
 Charge desperately upon the cannon's mouth, 
 Though the devil roar'd, and fight like 
 
 dragons, hang me ! 
 Now they may drink sack : but small beer, 
 
 with a passport 
 
 To beg with as they travel, and no money, 
 Turns their red blood to buttermilk. 
 
 Hon. Are you pleased, sir, 
 With what I have done ? 
 
 Ladis. Yes, and thus confirm it, 
 With this addition of mine own : You have, \ 
 
 sir, 
 
THE PICTURE. 
 
 297 
 
 From our loved queen received some recom- 
 pense 
 
 For your life hazarded in the late action ; 
 
 And, that we may follow her great example 
 
 In cherishing valour, without limit ask 
 
 What you from us can wish. 
 Math. If it be true, 
 
 Dread sir, as 'tis affirm'd, that every soil, 
 
 Where he is well, is to a valiant man 
 
 His natural country, reason may assure me 
 
 I should fix here, where blessings beyond 
 hope, 
 
 From you, the spring, like rivers, flow unto 
 me. 
 
 If wealth were my ambition, by the queen 
 
 I am made rich already, to the amazement 
 
 Of all that see, or shall hereafter read 
 
 The story of her bounty ; if to spend 
 
 The remnant of my life in deeds of arms, 
 
 No region is more fertile of good knights, 
 
 From whom my knowledge that way may be j Hon. I will do 
 better'd, , My parts. 
 
 Than this your warlike Hungary ; if favour, 
 
 Or grace in court could take me, by your 
 grant, 
 
 Far, far, beyond my merit, I may make 
 
 In yours a free election ; but, alas ! sir, 
 
 I am not mine own, but by my destiny 
 
 (Which I cannot resist) forced to prefer 
 
 My country's smoke, before the glorious fire 
 
 With which your bounties warm me. All I 
 ask, sir, 
 
 By amorous letters, vows made for her ser- 
 vice, 
 
 With all the engines wanton appetite 
 Could mount to shake the fortress of her 
 
 honour, 
 Here, here is my assurance she holds out, 
 
 [Kisses the picture. 
 And is impregnable. 
 Hon. What's that? 
 Math. Her fair figure. 
 Ladis. As I live, an excellent face ! 
 Hon. You have seen a better. 
 Ladis. I ever except yours : nay, frown 
 
 not, sweetest, 
 
 The Cyprian queen, compared to you, in my 
 Opinion, is a negro. As you order'd, 
 I'll see the soldiers paid ; and, in my absence, 
 Pray you use your powerful arguments, to 
 
 stay 
 ! This gentleman in our service. 
 
 Though I cannot be ignorant it must relish 
 Of foul ingratitude, is your gracious license 
 For my departure. 
 
 Ladis. Whither? 
 
 Math. To my own home, sir, 
 My own poor home ; which will, at my re- 
 turn, 
 
 Grow rich by your magnificence. I am here 
 But a body without a soul ; and, till I find it 
 In the embraces of my constant wife, 
 And, to set off that constancy, in her beauty 
 And matchless excellences, without a rival, 
 I am but half myself. 
 
 Hon. And is she then 
 So chaste and fair as you infer ? 
 
 Math. O, madam, 
 
 Though it must argue weakness in a rich man, 
 To shew his gold before an armed thief, 
 And I, in praising of my wife, but feed 
 The fire of lust in others to attempt her ; 
 Such is my full-sail 'd confidence in her virtue, 
 
 Ladis. On to the camp. 
 
 \_Excunt Ladislaus, Ferdinand, Eubu- 
 
 lus, Baptista, and Officers. 
 Hon. I am full of thoughts, 
 And something there is here I must give 
 
 form to, 
 Though yet an embryon: \_AsideJ\ You, 
 
 signiors, 
 
 Have no business with the soldier, as I 
 take it, 
 
 Though in my absence she were now besieged 
 By a strong army of lascivious wooers, 
 And every one more expert in his art, 
 Than those that tempted chaste Penelope ; 
 
 You are for other warfare ; quit the place, 
 But be within call. 
 
 Ric. Employment, on my life, boy ! 
 Ubald. If it lie in our road, we are made 
 for ever. 
 
 [Exeunt Ubaldo and Ricardo. 
 Hon. You may perceive the king is no 
 
 way tainted 
 With the disease of jealousy, since he leaves 
 
 me 
 Thus private with you. 
 
 Math. It were in him, madam, 
 A sin unpardonable to distrust such pureness, 
 Though I were an Adonis. 
 
 Hon. I presume 
 
 He neither does nor dares : and yet the story 
 Delivered of you by the general, 
 With your heroic courage, which sinks deeply 
 Into a knowing woman's heart, besides 
 Your promising presence, might beget some 
 scruple 
 
 In a meaner man; but more of this hereafter. 
 
 Though they raised batteries by prodigal 
 gifts, 
 
 I I'll take another theme now, and conjure you 
 1 By the honours you have won, and by the 
 
 love 
 
 Sacred to your dear wife, to answer truly 
 i To what I shall demand. 
 
298 
 
 THE PICTURE. 
 
 Math. You need not use 
 Charms to this purpose, madam. 
 
 Hon. Tell me, then, 
 Being yourself assured 'tis not in man 
 To sully with one spot th' immaculate white- 
 ness 
 
 Of your wife's honour, if you have not, since 
 The Gordian of your love was tied by mar- 
 riage, 
 Play'd false with her? 
 
 Math. By the hopes of mercy, never. 
 
 Hon. It may be, not frequenting the con- 
 verse 
 
 Of handsome ladies, you were never tempted, 
 And so your faith's untried yet. 
 
 Math. Surely, madam, 
 I am no woman-hater ; I have been 
 Received to the society of the best 
 And fairest of our climate, and have met with 
 No common entertainment, yet ne'er felt 
 The least heat that way. 
 
 Hon. Strange ! and do you think still, 
 The earth can show no beauty that can drench 
 In Lethe all remembrance of the favour 
 You now bear to your own ? 
 
 Math. Nature must find out 
 Some other mould to fashion a new creature 
 Fairer than her Pandora, ere I prove 
 Guilty, or in my wishes or my thoughts, 
 To my Sophia. 
 
 Hon. Sir, consider better ; 
 Not one in our whole sex ? 
 
 Math. I am constant to 
 My resolution. 
 
 Hon. But dare you stand 
 The opposition, and bind yourself 
 By oath for the performance ? 
 
 Math. My faith else 
 Had but a weak foundation. 
 
 Hon. I take hold 
 
 Upon your promise, and enjoin your stay 
 For one month here. 
 
 Math. I am caught ! [Aside. 
 
 Hon. And if I do not 
 Produce a lady, in that time, that shall 
 Make you confess your error, I submit 
 Myself to any penalty you shall please 
 To impose upon me : in the mean space, 
 
 write 
 To your chaste wife, acquaint her with your 
 
 fortune : 
 The jewels that were mine you may send 
 
 to her, 
 
 For better confirmation. I'll provide you 
 Of trusty messengers : but how far distant 
 is she ? 
 
 Math. A day's hard riding. 
 
 Hon. There is no retiring ; 
 111 bind you to your word. 
 
 Math. Well, since there is 
 No way to shun it, I will stand the hazard, 
 And instantly make ready my dispatch : 
 Till then, I'll leave your majesty. [Exit. 
 
 Hon. How I burst 
 
 With envy, that there lives, besides myself, 
 One fair and loyal woman ! 'twas the end 
 Of my ambition to be recorded 
 The only wonder of the age, and shall I 
 Give way to a competitor ? Nay more, 
 To add to my affliction, the assurances 
 That I placed inmybeautyhave deceivedme : 
 I thought one amorous glance of mine could 
 
 bring 
 
 All hearts to my subjection ; but this stranger, 
 Unmoved as rocks, contemns me. But L 
 
 cannot 
 
 Sit down so with mine honour : I will gain 
 A double victory, by working him 
 To my desire, and taint her in her honour, 
 Or lose myself : I have read that sometime 
 
 poison 
 
 Is useful. To supplant her, I'll employ, 
 With any cost, Ubaldo and Ricardo, 
 Two noted courtiers, of approved cunning 
 In all the windings of lust's labyrinth ; 
 And in corrupting him, I will outgo 
 Nero's Poppaea : if he shut his ears 
 Against my Syren notes, I'll boldly swear, 
 Ulysses lives again ; or that I have found 
 A frozen cynic, cold in spite of all 
 Allurements ; one whom beauty cannot move,. 
 Nor softest blandishments entice to love. 
 
 [Exit.. 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 SCENE I. Bohemia. A Space near the 
 
 Entrance ^/"Mathias" House. 
 Enter Hilario, with a pitcher of water, 
 
 and a -wallet. 
 
 Hil. Thin, thin provision ! I am dieted 
 Like one set to watch hawks ; and, to keep 
 
 me waking, 
 
 My croaking guts make a perpetual larum. 
 Here I stand centinel ; and, though I fright 
 Beggars from my lady's gate, in hope to have 
 A greater share, I find my commons mend 
 
 not. 
 
 I look'd this morning in my glass, the river, 
 And there appear'd a fish call'd a poor John, 
 Cut with a lenten face, in my own likeness ; 
 And it seem'd to speak, and say, Good 
 
 morrow, cousin! 
 
 No man comes this way but has a fling at me : 
 A surgeon passing by, ask'd at what rate 
 I would sell myself ; I answered, For what. 
 
THE PICTURE. 
 
 299. 
 
 To make, said he, a living anatomy, 
 
 And set thee up in our hall, for thou art 
 
 transparent 
 Without dissection ; and, indeed, he had 
 
 reason : 
 For I am scour'd with this poor purge to 
 
 nothing. 
 They say that hunger dwells in the camp ; 
 
 but till 
 
 My lord returns, or certain tidings of him, 
 He will not part with me : but sorrow's dry, 
 And I must drink howsoever. 
 
 Enter Ubaldo, Ricardo, and a Guide. 
 
 Guide. That's her castle, 
 Upon my certain knowledge. 
 
 Ubald. Our horses held out 
 To my desire. I am afire to be at it. 
 
 Ric. Take the jades for thy reward ; 
 
 before I part hence, 
 I hope to be better carried. Give me the 
 
 cabinet : 
 So ; leave us now. 
 
 Guide. Good fortune to you, gallants ! 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Ubald. Being joint agents, in a design of 
 
 trust too, 
 For the service of the queen, and our own 
 
 pleasure, 
 Let us proceed with judgment. 
 
 Ric. If I take not 
 This fort at the first assault, make me an 
 
 eunuch ; 
 So I may have precedence, 
 
 Ubald. On no terms. 
 We are both to play one prize ; he that 
 
 works best 
 
 In the searching of this mine, shall carry it, 
 Without contention. 
 
 Ric. Make you your approaches 
 As I directed. 
 
 Ubald. I need no instruction ; 
 I work not on your anvil. I'll give fire 
 With mine own linstock ; if the powder be 
 
 dank, 
 The devil rend the touch-hole ! Who have 
 
 we here ? 
 What skeleton's this ? 
 
 Ric. A ghost ! or the image ot famine ! 
 Where dost thou dwell ? 
 
 Hil. Dwell, sir ! my dwelling is 
 In the highway : that goodly house was once 
 My habitation, but I am banish 'd, 
 And cannot be call'd home till news arrive 
 Of the good knight Mathias. 
 
 Ric. If that will 
 Restore thee, thou art safe. 
 
 Ubald. We come from him, 
 With presents to his lady. 
 
 Hil. But are you sure 
 He is in health ? 
 
 Ric. Never so well : conduct us 
 To the lady. 
 
 Hil. Though a poor snake, I will leap 
 Out of my skin for joy. Break, pitcher, 
 
 break ! 
 
 And wallet, late my cupboard, I bequeath thee 
 To the next beggar ; thou, red herring, swim 
 To the Red Sea" again : methinks I am already 
 Knuckle deep in the fieshpots ; and, though 
 
 waking, dream 
 Of wine and plenty ! 
 
 Ric. What's the mystery 
 Of this strange passion ? 
 
 Hil. My belly, gentlemen, 
 Will not give me leave to tell you ; when I 
 
 have brought you 
 
 To my lady's presence, I am disenchanted : 
 There you shall know all. Follow ; if I 
 
 outstrip you, 
 Know I run for my belly. 
 
 Ubald. A mad fellow. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE II. A Room in Mathias' House. 
 Enter Sophia and Corisca. 
 
 Soph. Do not again delude me. 
 Coris. If I do, 
 
 Send me a grazing with my fellow, Hilario.. 
 I stood as you commanded, in the turret, 
 Observing all that pass'd by ; and even now, 
 I did discern a pair of cavaliers, 
 For such their outside spoke them, with 
 
 their guide, 
 Dismounting from their horses ; they said' 
 
 something 
 
 To our hungry centinel, that made him caper 
 And frisk in the air for joy : and, to confirm 
 
 this, 
 See, madam, they're in view. 
 
 Enter Hilario, Ubaldo, and Ricardo. 
 
 Hil. News from my lord ! 
 Tidings of joy ! these are no counterfeits, 
 But knights indeed. Dear madam, sign mjr ' 
 
 pardon, 
 That I may feed again, and pick up my 
 
 crumbs ; 
 I have had a long fast of it. 
 
 Soph. Eat, I forgive thee. 
 
 Hil. O comfortable words ! Eat, I forgive- 
 
 thee ! 
 
 And if in this I do not soon obey you, 
 And ram in to the purpose, billet me again 
 In the highway. Butler and cook, be ready,. 
 For I enter like a tyrant. \_Exit. 
 
 Ubald. Since mine eyes 
 Were never happy in so sweet an object, 
 
300 
 
 THE PICtURE. 
 
 I Without inquiry, I presume you are 
 j The lady of the house, and so salute you. 
 Ric. This letter, with these jewels, from 
 
 your lord, 
 j Warrant my boldness, madam. 
 
 [Delivers a letter and a casket. 
 Ubald. In being a sen-ant 
 To such rare beauty, you must needs deserve 
 This courtesy from a stranger. 
 
 [Salutes Corisca. 
 Ric. You are still 
 
 Beforehand with me. Pretty one, I descend 
 To take the height of your lip ; and, if I miss 
 In the altitude, hereafter, if you please, 
 I will make use of my Jacob's staff. 
 
 [Salutes Corisca. 
 Coris. These gentlemen 
 Have certainly had good breeding, as it ap- 
 pears 
 By their neat kissing, they hit me so pat on 
 
 the lips, 
 At the first sight. 
 
 [In the interim, Sophia reads the letter, 
 
 and opens the casket. 
 
 Soph. Heaven, in thy mercy, make me 
 
 Thy thankful handmaid for this boundless 
 
 blessing, 
 In thy goodness shower "d upon me ! 
 
 Ubald. I do not like 
 
 This simple devotion in her ; it is seldom 
 Practised among my mistresses. 
 
 Ric. Or mine. 
 W r ould they kneel to I know not who, for 
 
 the possession 
 
 Of such inestimable wealth, before 
 They thank'd the bringers of it? the poor 
 
 lady 
 
 Does want instruction, but I'll be her tutor, 
 And read her another lesson. 
 
 Soph. If I have 
 Shewn want of manners, gentlemen, in my 
 
 slowness 
 
 To pay the thanks I owe you for your travail, 
 To do my lord and me, howe'er unworthy 
 Of such a benefit, this noble favour, 
 Impute it, in your clemency, to the excess 
 Of joy that overwhelm'd me. 
 Ric. She speaks well. 
 Ubald. Polite and courtly. 
 Soph. And howe'er it may 
 Increase the offence, to trouble you with more 
 Demands touching my lord, before I have 
 Invited you to taste such as the coarseness 
 Of my poor house can offer ; pray you connive 
 On my weak tenderness, though I entreat 
 To learn from you something he hath, it 
 
 may be, 
 
 In his letter left unmention'd. 
 Ric. I can only 
 
 Give you assurance that he is in health, 
 Graced by the king and queen. 
 
 Ubald. And in the court 
 With admiration look'd on. 
 
 Ric. You must therefore 
 Put off these widow's garments, and appear 
 Like to yourself. 
 
 Ubald. And entertain all pleasures 
 Your fortune marks out for you. 
 
 Ric. There are other 
 Particular privacies, which on occasion 
 I will deliver to you. 
 
 Soph. You oblige me 
 To your service ever. 
 
 Ric. Good ! your service ; mark that. 
 
 Soph. In the mean time, by your good 
 
 acceptance make 
 My rustic entertainment relish of 
 The curiousness of the court. 
 
 Ubald. Your looks, sweet madam, 
 Cannot but make each dish a feast. 
 
 Soph. It shall be 
 
 Such, in the freedom of my will to please you. 
 I'll shew you the way : this is too great an 
 
 honour, 
 
 From such brave guests, to me so mean an 
 hostess. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE III. Alba Regalis. An Outer- 
 room in the Palace. 
 Enter Acanthe, and four or Jive Servants 
 
 with visors. 
 Acan. You know your charge ; give it 
 
 action, and expect 
 Rewards beyond your hopes. 
 
 1 Serv. If we but eye them, 
 They are ours, I warrant you. 
 
 2 Serv . May we not ask why 
 We are put upon this ? 
 
 Acan. Let that stop your mouth ; 
 
 [Gives them money. 
 And learn more manners, groom. 'Tis upon 
 
 the hour 
 In which they use to walk here : when you 
 
 have them 
 In your power, with violence carry them to 
 
 the place 
 
 Where I appointed ; there I will expect you : 
 Be bold and careful. [Exit. 
 
 Enter Mathias and Baptista. 
 
 1 Serv. These are they. 
 
 2 Serv. Are you sure ? 
 
 1 Serv. Am I sure I am myself? 
 
 2 Serv. Seize on him strongly ; if he have 
 but means 
 
 To draw his sword, 'tis ten to one we smart 
 
 for't : 
 Take all advantages. 
 
THE PICTURE. 
 
 301 
 
 Math. I cannot guess 
 
 What her intents are ; but her carriage was 
 As I but now related. 
 
 Bapt. Your assurance 
 
 In the constancy of your lady is the armour 
 That must de.'end you. Where's the picture ? 
 
 Math. Here, 
 And no way alter 'd. 
 
 Bapt. If she be not perfect, 
 There is no truth in art. 
 
 Math. By this, I hope, 
 She hath received my letters. 
 
 Bapt. Without question : 
 These courtiers are rank riders, when they are 
 To visit a handsome lady. 
 
 Math. Lend me your ear. 
 One piece of her entertainment will require 
 Your dearest privacy. 
 
 i Serv. Now they stand fair ; 
 Upon them. [They rush forward. 
 
 Math. Villains! 
 
 i Serv. Stop their mouths. We come not 
 To try your valours : kill him, if he offer 
 To ope his mouth. We have you : 'tis in 
 
 vain 
 
 To make resistance. Mount them, and away. 
 [Exeunt with Mathias and Baptista. 
 
 SCENE IV. A Gallery in the same. 
 Enter Servants with lights, Ladislaus, Fer- 
 dinand, and Eubulus. 
 Ladis. 'Tis late. Go to your rest ; but 
 
 do not envy 
 The happiness I draw near to. 
 
 Eubu. If you enjoy it 
 
 The moderate way, the sport yields, I confess, 
 A pretty titillation ; but too much oft 
 Will bring you on your knees. In my 
 
 younger days 
 
 I was myself a gamester ; and I found 
 By sad experience, there is no such soaker 
 As ayoung spongy wife ; she keeps a thousand 
 Horse-leeches in her box, and the thieves 
 
 will suck out 
 Both blood and marrow ! I feel a kind of 
 
 cramp 
 
 In my joints, when I think on't : but it may 
 be queens, 
 
 And such a queen as yours is has the art 
 
 Ferd. You take leave 
 To talk, my lord. 
 
 Ladis. He may, since he can do nothing. 
 Eubu. If you spend this way too much of 
 
 your royal stock,- 
 Ere long we may be puefellows. 
 
 Ladis. The door shut ! 
 Knock gently ; harder. So, here comes her 
 
 woman. 
 Take off my gown. 
 
 Enter Acanthe. 
 
 A can. My lord, the queen by me 
 This night desires your pardon. 
 
 Ladis. How, Acanthe ! 
 I come by her appointment ; 'twas her grant ; 
 The motion was her own. 
 
 Acan. It may be, sir ; 
 But by her doctors she is since advised, 
 For her health's sake, to forbear, 
 
 Eubu. I do not like 
 This physical letchery, the old downright 
 
 way 
 Is worth a thousand on't. 
 
 Ladis. Prithee, Acanthe, 
 Mediate for me. [Offering her a ring* 
 
 Eubu. O the fiends of hell ! 
 Would any man bribe his servant, to make 
 
 way 
 
 To his own wife ? if this be the court state, , 
 Shame fall on such as use it ! 
 
 Acan. By this jewel, 
 
 This night I dare not move her, but to- 
 morrow 
 I will watch all occasions. 
 
 Ladis. Take this, 
 To be mindful of me. 
 
 Eubu. 'Slight, I thought a king 
 Might have ta'en up any woman at the 
 
 king's price ; 
 
 And must he buy his own, at a dearer rate 
 Than a stranger in a brothel ? 
 
 Ladis. What is that 
 You mutter, sir ? 
 
 Eubu. No treason to your honour : 
 I'll speak it out, though it anger you ; if you; 
 
 pay for 
 
 Your lawful pleasure in some kind, great sir, 
 What do you make the queen ? cannot you 
 
 clicket 
 
 Without a fee, or when she has a suit 
 For you to grant ? [ Lad is . draws h is sword. . 
 
 Ferd. O hold, sir ! 
 
 Ladis. Off with his head ! 
 
 Eubu. Do, when you please ; you but blow 
 
 out a taper 
 That would light your understanding, and, 
 
 in care oft, 
 
 Is burnt down tothesocket. Be as you are, sir, 
 An absolute monarch : it did shew more king- 
 like 
 
 In those libidinous Caesars, that compell'd 
 Matrons and virgins of all ranks to bow 
 Unto their ravenous lusts ; and did admit 
 Of more excuse than I can urge for you, 
 That slave yourself to the imperious humour 
 Of a proud beauty. 
 
 Ladis. Out of my sight ! 
 
 Eubu. I will, sir, 
 
3 02 
 
 THE PICTURE. 
 
 Give way to your furious passion ; but when 
 
 reason 
 
 Hath got the better of it, I much hope 
 The counsel that offends now will deserve 
 Your royal thanks. Tranquillity of mind 
 
 Stay with you, sir ! 1 do begin to doubt 
 
 There's something more in the queen's 
 
 strangeness than 
 
 Is yet disclosed ; and I will find it out, 
 Or lose myself in the search. 
 
 [Aside, and exit. 
 Ferd. Sure he is honest, 
 And from your infancy hath truly served 
 
 you: 
 Let that plead for him ; and impute this 
 
 harshness 
 
 To the frowardness of his age. 
 Ladis. I am much troubled, 
 And do begin to stagger. Ferdinand, good 
 
 night ! 
 To-morrow visit us. Back to our own 
 
 lodgings. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE V. Another Room in the same. 
 
 JStiferAcanthe andthevisored Servants, with 
 Mathias and Baptista blindfolded. 
 
 A can. You have done bravely. Lock this 
 
 in that room, 
 There let him ruminate ; I'll anon unhood 
 
 him : [ They carry off Baptista. 
 
 The other must stay here. As soon as I 
 Have quit the place, give him the liberty 
 And use of his eyes ; that done, disperse 
 
 yourselves 
 
 As privately as you can : but, on your lives, 
 Xo word of what hath pass'd. [Exit. 
 
 i Serv. If I do, sell 
 My tongue to a tripe-wife. Come, unbind 
 
 his arms : 
 You are now at your own disposure ; and 
 
 however 
 We used you roughly, I hope you will find 
 
 here 
 
 Such entertainment as will give you cause 
 To thank us for the service : and so I leave 
 
 you. [Exeunt Servants. 
 
 Math. If I am in a prison, 'tis a neat one. 
 What GEdipus can resolve this riddle ? Ha ! 
 I never gave just cause to any man 
 Basely to plot against my life : But what is 
 Become of my true friend ? for him I suffer 
 More than myself. 
 
 Acan. \within.] Remove that idle fear ; 
 He's safe as you are. 
 
 Math. Whosoe'er thou art, 
 For him I thank thee. I cannot imagine 
 Where I should be : though I have read the 
 
 tales 
 
 Of errant-knighthood, stuff d with the rela- 
 tions 
 
 Of magical enchantments ; yet I am not 
 So sottishly credulous to believe the devil 
 Hath that way power. [Music above. J Ha ! 
 music? 
 
 The blushing rose, and purple flower, 
 Let grow too long, are soonest blasted ; 
 
 Dainty fruits, though sweet, will sour, 
 And rot in ripeness, left untasted. 
 
 Yet here is one more sweet than these : 
 
 The more you taste the more she' II please. 
 
 Beauty that's enclosed with ice, 
 
 Is a shadow chaste as rare ; 
 Then how much those sweets entice, 
 
 That have issue full as fair ! 
 Earth cannot yield, from all her powers, 
 One equal for dame Venus' bowers. 
 
 A song too ! certainly, be it he or she 
 That owes this voice, it hath not been ac- 
 quainted 
 
 With much affliction. Whosoe'er you are 
 That do inhabit here, if you have bodies, 
 And are not mere aerial forms, appear, 
 
 Enter Honoria masked. 
 And make me know your end with me. 
 
 Most strange ! 
 
 What have I conjured up? sure, if this be 
 A spirit, it is no damn'd one. What a 
 
 shape's here ! 
 
 Then, with what majesty it moves ! If Juno 
 Were now to keep her state among the gods, 
 And Hercules to be made again her guest, 
 She could not put on a more glorious habit, 
 Though her handmaid, Iris, lent her various 
 
 colours, 
 
 Or old Oceanus ravish 'd from the deep 
 All jewels shipwreck'd in it. As you have 
 Thus far made known yourself, it that your 
 
 face 
 
 Have not too much divinity about it 
 For mortal eyes to gaze on, perfect what 
 You have begun, with wonder and amaze- 
 ment 
 To my astonish'd senses. 
 
 [Honoria unmasks. 
 
 How ! the queen ! [Kneels. 
 
 Hon. Rise, sir, and hear my reasons, in 
 
 defence 
 
 Of the rape (for so you may conceive) which I, 
 By my instruments, made upon you. You, 
 
 perhaps, 
 May think what you have suffer 'd for my 
 
 lust 
 
 Is a common practice with me ; but I call 
 Those ever-shining lamas, and their great 
 
 Maker, 
 
THE PICTURE. 
 
 303 
 
 As witnesses of my innocence : I ne'er 
 
 look'd on 
 
 A man but your best self, on whom I ever 
 (Except the king) vouchsafed an eye of 
 
 favour. 
 Math. The king, indeed, and only such a 
 
 king, 
 
 Deserves your rarities, madam ; and, but he, 
 'Twere giant-like ambition in any, 
 In his wishes only, to presume to taste 
 The nectar of your kisses ; or to feed 
 His appetite with that ambrosia, due 
 And proper to a prince ; and, what binds 
 
 more, 
 
 A lawful husband. For myself, great queen, 
 I am a thing obscure, disfurnish'd of 
 All merit, that can raise me higher than, 
 In my most humble thankfulness for your 
 
 bounty, 
 
 To hazard my life for you ; and, that way, 
 I am most ambitious. 
 
 Hon. I desire no more 
 Than what you promise. If you dare expose 
 Your life, as you profess, to do me service, 
 How can it be better employ'd than in 
 Preserving mine ? which only you can do, 
 And must do, with the danger of your own, 
 A desperate danger too ! If private men 
 Can brook no rivals in what they affect, 
 But to the death pursue such as invade 
 What law makes their inheritance ; the king, 
 To whom you know I am dearer than his 
 
 crown, 
 
 His health, his eyes, his after hopes, with all 
 His present blessings, must fall on that man, 
 Like dreadful lightning, that is won by 
 
 prayers, 
 
 Threats, or rewards, to stain his bed, or make 
 His hoped-for issue doubtful ! 
 
 Math. If you aim 
 
 At what I more than fear you do, the reasons 
 Which you deliver, should, in judgment, 
 
 rather 
 
 Deter me, than invite a grant, with my 
 Assured ruin. 
 
 Hon. True ; if that you were 
 Of a cold temper, one whom doubt, or fear, 
 In the most horrid forms they could put on, 
 Might teach to be ingrateful. Your denial 
 To me, that have deserved so much, is more, 
 If it can have addition. 
 
 Math. I know not 
 What your commands are. 
 
 Hon. Have you fought so well 
 Among arm'd men, yet cannot guess what 
 
 lists 
 
 You are to enter, when you are in private 
 With a willing lady : one, that, to enjoy 
 Your company this night, denied the king 
 
 Access to what's his own ? If you will press 
 
 me 
 
 To speak in plainer language 
 
 Math. Pray you, forbear ; 
 I would I did not understand too much ! 
 Already, by your words, I am instructed 
 To credit that, which, not confirm 'd by you, 
 Had bred suspicion in me of untruth, 
 Though an angel had affirm 'd it. But suppose 
 That, cloy'd with happiness, which is ever 
 
 built 
 
 On virtuous chastity, in the wantonness 
 Of appetite, you desire to make trial 
 Of the false delights proposed by vicious 
 
 lust; 
 
 Among ten thousand, every way more able 
 And apter to be wrought on, such as owe you 
 Obedience, being your subjects, why should 
 
 you 
 Make choice of me, a stranger? 
 
 Hon. Though yet reason 
 Was ne'er admitted in the court of love, 
 I'll yield you one unanswerable. As I urged, 
 In our last private conference, you have 
 A pretty promising presence ; but there are 
 Many, in limbs and feature, who may take, 
 That way, the right-hand file of you: besides, 
 Your May of youth is past, and the blood 
 
 spent 
 By wounds, though bravely taken, renders 
 
 you 
 
 Disabled for love's service : and that valour 
 Set off with better fortune, which, it may be, 
 Swells you above your bounds, is not the hook 
 That hath caught me, good sir. I need no 
 
 champion, 
 With his sword, to guard my honour or my 
 
 beauty ; 
 
 In both I can defend myself, and live 
 My own protection. 
 
 Math. If these advocates, 
 The best that can plead for me, have no 
 
 power, 
 What can you find in me else, that may 
 
 tempt you, 
 With irrecoverable loss unto yourself, 
 To be a gainer from me ? 
 
 Hon. You have, sir, 
 
 A jewel of such matchless worth and lustre, 
 As does disdain comparison, and darkens 
 All that is rare in other men ; and that, 
 I must or win or lessen. 
 
 Math. You heap more 
 Amazement on me : What am I possess 'd of 
 That you can covet? make me understand it, 
 If it have a name. 
 
 Hon. Yes, an imagined one ; 
 But is, in substance, nothing ; being a gar- 
 ment 
 
34 
 
 THE PICTURE. 
 
 Worn out of fashion, andlong since given o'er 
 By the court and country : 'tis your loyalty 
 And constancy to your wife ; 'tis that I dote 
 
 on, 
 
 And does deserve my envy ; and that jewel, 
 
 Or by fair play or foul, I must win from you. 
 
 Math. These are mere contraries. If you 
 
 love me, madam, 
 For my constancy, why seek you to destroy 
 
 it? 
 In my keeping it preserve me worth your 
 
 favour. 
 
 Or, if it be a jewel of that value, 
 As you with labour'd rhetoric would per- 
 suade me, 
 What can you stake against it ? 
 
 Hon. A queen's fame, 
 And equal honour. 
 
 Math. So, whoever wins, 
 Both shall be losers. 
 
 Hon. That is that I aim at : 
 Yet on the die I lay rny youth, my beauty, 
 This moist palm, this soft lip, and those 
 
 delights 
 Darkness should only judge of. {Kisses 
 
 him.~\ Do you find them 
 Infectious in the trial, that you start, 
 As frighted with their touch ? 
 
 Math. Is it in man 
 To resist such strong temptations? 
 
 Hon. He begins 
 To waver. [Aside. 
 
 Math. Madam, as you are gracious, 
 Grant this short night's deliberation to me ; 
 And, with the rising sun, from me you shall 
 Receive full satisfaction. 
 
 Hon. Though extremes 
 Hate all delay, I will deny you nothing. 
 This key will bring you to your friend ; you 
 
 are safe both ; 
 
 And all things useful that could be prepared 
 For one I love and honour, wait upon you. 
 Take counsel of your pillow, such a fortune 
 As with affection's swiftest wings flies to you, 
 Will not be often tender'd. [Exit. 
 
 Math. How my blood 
 Rebels ! I now could call her back and yet 
 There's something stays me : if the king 
 
 had tender'd 
 
 Such favours to my wife, 'tis to be doubted 
 They had not been refused : but, being a 
 
 man, 
 
 I should not yield first, or prove an example, 
 For her defence, of frailty. By this, sans 
 
 question, 
 
 She's tempted too ; and here I may examine. 
 
 [Looks on the picture. 
 
 How she holds out. She's still the same, 
 
 the same 
 
 Pure crystal rock of chastity. Perish all 
 Allurements that may alter me ! The snow 
 Of her sweet -coldness hath extinguish'd quite 
 The fire that but even now began to flame : 
 And I by her confirm'd, rewards nor titles. 
 Nor certain death from the refused queen, 
 Shall shake my faith ; since I resolve to be 
 Loyal to her, as she is true to me. [Exit. 
 
 SCENE VI. Bohemia. A Gallery in 
 
 Mathias' House. 
 Enter Ubaldo and Ricardo. 
 Ubald. What we spake on the voley be- 
 gins to work ; 
 We have laid a good foundation. 
 
 Ric. Build it up, 
 Or else 'tis nothing : you have by lot the 
 
 honour 
 
 Of the first assault ; but, as it is condition'd, 
 Observe the time proportion 'd : I'll not part 
 
 with 
 My share in the achievement ; when I 
 
 whistle, 
 Or hem, fall off. 
 
 Enter Sophia. 
 
 Ubald. She comes. Stand by, I'll watch 
 My opportunity. [They walk aside. 
 
 Soph. I find myself 
 
 Strangely distracted with the various stories, 
 Now well, now ill, then doubtfully, by my 
 
 guests 
 
 Deliver'd of my lord : and, like poor beggars 
 That in their dreams find treasure, by re- 
 flection 
 
 Of a wounded fancy, make it questionable 
 Whether they sleep or not ; yet, tickled with 
 Such a fantastic hope of happiness, 
 Wish they may never wake. In some such 
 
 measure, 
 
 Incredulous of what I see and touch, 
 As 'twere a fading apparition, I 
 Am still perplex'd, and troubled ; and when, 
 
 most 
 
 Confirm'd 'tis true, a curious jealousy 
 To be assured, by what means, and from 
 
 whom, 
 Such a mass of wealth was first deserv'd, 
 
 then gotten, 
 
 Cunningly steals into me. I have practised, 
 For my certain resolution, with these courtiers. 
 Promising private conference to either, 
 And, at this hour: if in search of the truth, 
 I hear, or say, more than becomes my virtue, 
 Forgive me, my Mathias. 
 Ubald. Now I make in. 
 
 [Comes fot ward* 
 
 Madam, as you commanded, I attend 
 Your pleasure. 
 
THE PICTURE. 
 
 305 
 
 Soph. I must thank you for the favour. 
 Ubald. I am no ghostly father; yet, if 
 
 you have 
 Some scruples touching your lord, you would 
 
 be resolved of, 
 I am prepared. 
 
 Soph. But will you take your oath, 
 To answer truly ? 
 
 Ubald. On the hem of your smock, if you 
 
 please : 
 
 A vow I dare not break, it being a book 
 I would gladly swear on. 
 
 Soph. To spare, sir, that trouble, 
 I'll take your word, which, in a gentleman, 
 Should be of equal value. Is my lord, then, 
 In such grace with the queen ? 
 
 Ubald. You should best know, 
 By what you have found from him, whether 
 
 he can 
 
 Deserve a grace or no. 
 Soph. What grace clo you mean ? 
 Ubald. That special grace, if you will 
 
 have it, he 
 Labour 'd so hard for between a pair of 
 
 sheets, 
 
 Upon your wedding night, when your lady- 
 ship 
 Lost you know what. 
 
 Soph. Fie ! be more modest, 
 Or I must leave you. 
 
 Ubald. I would tell a truth 
 As cleanly as I could, and yet the subject 
 Makes me run out a little. 
 
 Soph. You would put, now, 
 A foolish jealousy in my head, my lord 
 Hath gotten a new mistress. 
 Ubald. One ! a hundred ; 
 But under seal I speak it : I presume 
 Upon your silence, it being for your profit. 
 They talk of Hercules' fifty in a night, 
 'Twas well ; but yet to yours he was a 
 
 piddler : 
 
 Such a soldier and a courtier never came 
 ; To Alba Regalis; the ladies run mad for 
 
 him, 
 
 And there is such contention among them, 
 "Who shall engross him wholly, that the like 
 Was never heard of. 
 
 Soph. Are they handsome women ? 
 Ubald. Fie ! no ; coarse mammets : and 
 
 what's worse, they are old too, 
 Some fifty, some threescore, and they pay 
 
 dear for't, 
 Believing that he carries a powder in his 
 
 breeches 
 Will make them young again ; and these 
 
 suck shrewdly. 
 
 Ric. [whistles.] Sir, I must fetch you off. 
 [Aside. 
 
 Ubald. I could tell you wonders 
 Of the cures he has done, but a business of 
 
 import 
 
 Calls me away ; but, that dispatch'd, I will 
 Be with you presently. [ Walks aside. 
 
 Soph. There is something more, 
 In this, than bare suspicion. 
 
 Ric. [comes forward.'} Save you, lady ; 
 Now you look like yourself! I have not 
 
 look'd on 
 A lady more complete, yet have seen a 
 
 madam 
 Wear a garment of this fashion, of the same 
 
 stuff too, 
 One just of your dimensions : Sat the wind 
 
 there, boy ! 
 
 Soph. What lady, sir ? 
 Ric. Nay, nothing ; and methinks 
 I should know this ruby : very good ! 'tis 
 
 the same. 
 This chain of orient pearl, and this diamond 
 
 too, 
 Have been worn before ; but much good 
 
 may they do you ! 
 Strengtn to the gentleman's back ! he toil'd 
 
 hard for them, 
 Before he got them. 
 
 Soph. Why, how were they gotten ? 
 Ric. Not in the field with his sword, upon 
 
 my life ; 
 He may thank his close stiletto. [Ubaldo 
 
 hems.] Plague upon it ! 
 Run the minutes so fast? [Aside.] Prayyou, 
 
 excuse my manners ; 
 I left a letter in my chamber window, 
 Which I would not have seen on any terms ; 
 
 fie on it, 
 Forgetful as I am ! but I'll straight attend 
 
 you. [Walks aside. 
 
 Soph. This is strange. His letters said 
 
 these jewels were 
 
 Presented him by the queen, as a reward 
 For his good service, and the trunks of 
 
 clothes, 
 That followed them this last night, with 
 
 haste made up 
 By his direction. 
 
 Ubald. [comes forward.] I was telling you 
 Of wonders, madam. 
 
 Soph. If you are so skilful, 
 Without premeditation answer me ; 
 Know you this gown, and these rich jewels? 
 
 Ubald. Heaven, 
 How things will come out ! But that I 
 
 should offend you, 
 And wrong my more than noble friend, your 
 
 husband, 
 
 (For we are sworn brothers,) in the discovery 
 Of his nearest secrets, I could 
 
[306 
 
 THE PICTURE. 
 
 Soph. By the hope of favour 
 That you have from me, out with it. 
 Ubald. 'Tis a potent spell 
 
 I cannot resist : Why, I will tell you, madam, 
 And to how many several women you are 
 Beholding for your bravery. This was 
 The wedding gown of " Paulina, a rich 
 
 strumpet, 
 Worn but a day, when she married old Gon- 
 
 zaga, 
 
 And left off trading. 
 Soph. O my heart ! 
 Ubald. This chain 
 
 Of pearl, was a great widow's, that invited 
 Your lord to a masque, and the weather 
 
 proving foul, 
 He lodged in her house all night, and merry 
 
 they were ; 
 
 But how he came by it, I know not. 
 Soph . Perjured man ! 
 Ubald. This ring was Julietta's, afine piece, 
 But very good at the sport : this diamond 
 Was madam Acanthe's, given him for a song 
 Prick'd in a private arbour, as she said, 
 When the queen ask'd for't ; and she heard 
 
 him sing too, 
 And danced to his hornpipe, or there are 
 
 liars abroad. 
 There are other toys about you, the same 
 
 way purchased ; 
 
 But, pa'rallel'd with these, not worth the re- 
 lation. 
 
 You are happy in a husband, never man 
 Made better use of his strength : would you 
 
 have him waste 
 
 His body away for nothing? if he holds out, 
 There's not an embroider 'd petticoat in the 
 
 court, 
 
 But shall be at your sen-ice. 
 Soph. I commend him, 
 
 I 1 is a thriving trade ; but pray you leave me 
 A little to myself. 
 
 Ubald. You may command 
 Your servant, madam. [Walks aside.} 
 
 She's stung unto the quick, lad. 
 Ric. I did my part : if this potion work 
 
 not, hang me ! 
 
 Let her sleep as well as she can to-night, to- 
 morrow 
 We'll mount new batteries. 
 
 Ubald. And till then leave her. 
 
 [Exeunt Ubaldo and Ricardo. 
 Soph. You Powers, that take into your 
 
 care the guard 
 
 Of innocence, aid me ! for I am a creature 
 So forfeited to despair, hope cannot fancy 
 A ransom to redeem me. I begin 
 To waver in my faith, and make it doubtful, 
 Whether the saints, that were canonized for 
 
 Their holiness of life, sinn'd not in secret ; 
 Since my Mathias is fallen from his virtue, 
 In such an open fashion. Could it be, else, 
 That such a husband, so devoted to me, 
 So vow'd to temperance, for lascivious hire 
 Should prostitute himself to common harlots ! 
 Old and deform'd too ! Was't for this he 
 
 left me, 
 
 And on a feign'd pretence, for want of means 
 To give me ornament ? or to bring home 
 Diseases to me ? Suppose these are false, 
 And lustful goats; if he were true and right, 
 Why stays he so long from me, being made 
 
 rich, 
 
 And that the only reason why he left me? 
 No, he is lost ; and shall I wear the spoils 
 And salaries of lust ! they cleave unto me, 
 Like Nessus' poison'd shi'rt : no, in my rage, 
 I'll tear them off, and from my body wash 
 The venom with my tears. Have I no spleen, 
 Nor anger of a woman ? shall he build 
 Upon my ruins, and I, unrevenged, 
 Deplore his falsehood ? no ; with the same 
 
 trash 
 
 For which he had dishonour'd me, I'll pur- 
 chase 
 
 A just revenge : I am not yet so much 
 In debt to years, nor so mis-shaped, that all 
 Should fly from my embraces : Chastity, 
 Thou only art a name, and I renounce thee t 
 I am now a servant to voluptuousness. 
 Wantons of all degrees and fashions, 
 
 welcome ! 
 
 You shall be entertain'd ; and, if I stray, 
 Let him condemn himself, that led the 'way. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 SCENE I. Alba Regalis. A Room in 
 
 the Palace. 
 
 Enter Mathias and Baptista. 
 Bapt. We are in a desperate strait ; there's 
 
 no evasion, 
 
 Nor hope left to come off, but by your yield- 
 ing 
 To the necessity ; you must feign a grant 
 
 To her violent passion, or 
 
 Math. What, my Baptista? 
 Bapt. We are but dead else. 
 Math. Were the sword now heaved up, 
 And my neck upon the block, I would not buy 
 An hour's reprieve with the loss of faith and 
 
 virtue, 
 To be made immortal here. Art thou a 
 
 scholar, 
 
 Nay, almost without parallel, and yet fear 
 To die, which is inevitable ! You may urge 
 
THE PICTURE. 
 
 307 
 
 The many years that, by the course of nature, 
 We may travel in this tedious pilgrimage, 
 And hold it as a blessing ; as it is, 
 When innocence is our guide : yet know, 
 
 Baptista, 
 
 Our virtues are preferr'd before our years, 
 By the great Judge : to die untainted in 
 Our fame and reputation is the greatest ; 
 And to lose that, can we desire to live ? 
 Or shall I, for a momentary pleasure, 
 Which soon comes to a period, to all times 
 Have breach of faith and perjury remember 'd 
 In a still-living epitaph ? no, Baptista, 
 Since my Sophia will go to her grave 
 Unspotted in her faith, I'll follow her 
 With equal loyalty : [ Takes out the picture.'} 
 
 But look on this, 
 Your own great work, your masterpiece, and 
 
 then, 
 She being still the same, teach me to 
 
 alter ! 
 
 Ha ! sure I do not sleep ! or, if I dream, 
 This is a terrible vision ! I will clear 
 My eyesight ; perhaps melancholy makes me 
 See that which is not. 
 
 Bapt. It is too apparent. 
 I grieve to look upon't : besides the yellow, 
 That does assure she's tempted, there are 
 
 lines 
 
 Of a dark colour, that disperse themselves 
 O'er every miniature of her face, and those 
 
 Confirm 
 
 Math. She is turn'd whore ! 
 Bapt. I must not say so. 
 Yet, as a friend to truth, if you will have me 
 Interpret it, in her consent and wishes 
 She's false, but not in fact yet. 
 
 Math. Fact, Baptista ! 
 Make not yourself a pander to her looseness, 
 In labouring to palliate what a visor 
 Of impudence cannot cover. Did e'er woman, 
 In her will, decline from chastity, but found 
 
 means, 
 
 To give her hot lust fuel ? It is more 
 Impossible in nature for gross bodies, 
 Descending of themselves, to hang in the air ; 
 Or with my single arm to underprop 
 A falling tower ; nay, in its violent course 
 To stop the lightning, than to stay a woman 
 Hurried by two furies, lust and falsehood, 
 In her full career to wickedness ! 
 
 Bapt. Pray you, temper 
 The violence of your passion. 
 
 Math. In extremes 
 Of this condition, can it be in man 
 To use a moderation? I am thrown, 
 From a steep rock, headlong into a gulph 
 Of misery, and find myself past hope, 
 In the same moment that I apprehend 
 
 That I am falling : and this, the figure of 
 My idol, few hours since, while she continued 
 In her perfection, that was late a mirror, 
 In which I saw miraculous shapes of duty, 
 Staid manners, with all excellency a husband 
 Could wish in a chaste wife, is on the sudden 
 Turn'd to a magicall glass, and does present 
 Nothing but horns and horror. 
 
 Bapt. You may yet, 
 
 And 'tis the best foundation, build up comfort 
 On your own goodness. 
 
 Math. No, that hath undone me ; 
 For now I hold my temperance a sin 
 Worse than excess, and what was vice, a 
 
 virtue. 
 
 Have I refused a queen, and such a queen, 
 Whose ravishing beauties at the first sight 
 
 had tempted 
 A hermit from his beads, and changed his 
 
 prayers 
 
 To amorous sonnets, to preserve my faith 
 Inviolate to thee, with the hazard of 
 My death with torture, since she could inflict 
 No less for my contempt ; and have I met 
 Such a return from thee ! I will not curse thee, 
 Nor, for thy falsehood, rail against the sex ; 
 'Tis poor, and common : I'll only with wise 
 
 men, 
 
 Whisper unto myself, howe'er they seem, 
 Nor present, nor past times, nor the age to 
 
 come, 
 
 Hath heretofore, can now, or ever shall, 
 Produce one constant woman. 
 
 Bapt. This is more 
 Than the satirists wrote against them. 
 
 Math. There's no language 
 That can express the poison of these aspics, 
 These weeping crocodiles, and all too little 
 That hath been said against them. But I'll 
 
 mould 
 
 My thoughts into another form ; and, if 
 She can outlive the report of what I have done, 
 This hand, when next she comes within my 
 
 reach, 
 Shall be her executioner. 
 
 Enter Honoria and Acanthe. 
 
 Bapt. The queen, sir. 
 
 Hon. Wait our command at distance : 
 
 \Exit Acanthe.] Sir, you too have 
 Free'liberty to depart. 
 
 Bapt. I know my manners, 
 And thank you for the favour. {Exit. 
 
 Hon. Have you taken 
 Good rest in your new lodgings ? I expect 
 
 now 
 
 Your resolute answer : but advise maturely 
 Before I hear it. 
 
 Math. Let my actions, madam, 
 
 X2 
 
308 
 
 THE PICTURE. 
 
 For no words can dilate my joy, in all 
 You can command, with cheerfulness to 
 
 serve you, 
 
 Assure your highness ; and, in sign of my 
 Submission, and contrition for my error, 
 My lips, that but the last night shunn'd the 
 
 touch 
 
 Of yours as poison, taught humility now, 
 Thus on your foot, and that too great an 
 
 honour 
 
 For such an undeserver, seal my duty. 
 A cloudy mist of ignorance, equal to 
 Cimmerian darkness, would not let me see, 
 
 then, 
 
 What now, with adoration and wonder, 
 With reverence I look up to : but those fogs 
 Dispersed and scatter'd by the powerful 
 
 beams 
 
 With which yourself, the sun of all perfection, 
 Vouchsafe to cure my blindness ; like a 
 
 suppliant, 
 
 As low as I can kneel, I humbly beg 
 What you once pleased to tender. 
 
 Hon. This is more 
 Than I could hope ! [Aside.] What find 
 
 you so attractive 
 
 Upon my face, in so short time to make 
 This sudden metamorphosis ? pray you, 
 
 rise; 
 
 I, for your late neglect, thus sign your par- 
 don. [Kisses him, 
 Ay, now you kiss like a lover, and not as 
 
 brothers 
 Coldly salute their sisters. 
 
 Math. I am turn'd 
 All spirit and fire. 
 
 Hon. Yet, to give some allay 
 To this hot fervour, 'twere good to remem- 
 ber 
 
 The king, whose eyes and ears are every- 
 where ; 
 With the danger too that follows, this dis- 
 
 cover'd. 
 Math. Danger ! a bugbear, madam ; let 
 
 [me] ride once 
 
 Like Phaeton in the chariot of your favour, 
 And I contemn Jove's thunder ; though the 
 
 king, 
 
 In our embraces stood a looker on, 
 His hangman, and with studied cruelty, 
 
 ready 
 To drag me from your arms, it should not 
 
 fright me 
 
 From the enjoying that a single life is 
 i Too poor a price for. O, that now all vigour 
 l Of my youth were re-collected for an hour, 
 i That my desire might meet with yours, and 
 
 draw 
 i The envy of all men, in the encounter, 
 
 Upon my head ! I should but we lose 
 
 time 
 Be gracious, mighty queen. 
 
 Hon. Pause yet a little : 
 The bounties of the king, and, what weighs 
 
 more, 
 Your boasted constancy to your matchless 
 
 wife, 
 Should not so soon be shaken. 
 
 Math. The whole fabric, 
 When I but look on you, is in a moment 
 O'erturn'd and ruin'd ; and, as rivers lose 
 Their names when they are swallow 'd by 
 
 the ocean, 
 
 In you alone all faculties of my soul 
 Are wholly taken up ; my wife and king, 
 At the best, as things forgotten. 
 
 Hon. Can this be? 
 I have gain'd my end now. [Aside. 
 
 Math. Wherefore stay you, madam ? 
 
 Hon. In my consideration what a nothing 
 Man's constancy is. 
 
 Math. Your beauties make it so 
 In me, sweet lady. 
 
 Hon. And it is my glory : 
 I could be coy now, as you were, but I 
 Am of a gentler temper ; howsoever, 
 And in a just return of what I have suffer 'd 
 In your disdain, with the same measure 
 
 grant me 
 
 Equal deliberation : I ere long 
 Will visit you again ; and when I next 
 Appear, as conquer 'd by it, slave-like wait 
 On my triumphant beauty. [Exit. 
 
 Math. What a change 
 Is here beyond my fear ! but by thy false- 
 hood, 
 
 Sophia, not her beauty, is't denied me 
 To sin but in my wishes ? what a frown, 
 In scorn, at her departure, she threw on me ! 
 I am both ways lost ; storms of contempt 
 
 and scorn 
 
 Are ready to break on me, and all hope 
 Of shelter doubtful : I can neither be 
 Disloyal, nor yet honest ; I stand guilty 
 On either part ; at the worst, Death will end 
 
 all; 
 
 And he must be my judge to right my wrong, 
 
 Since I have loved too much, and lived too 
 
 long. [Exit. 
 
 SCENE II. Bohemia. A Room in Ma- 
 
 thias' House. 
 
 Enter Sophia, with a book and a paper. 
 Soph. Nor custom, nor example, nor vast 
 
 numbers 
 
 Of such as do offend, make less the sin. 
 For each particular crime a strict account 
 Will be exacted ; and that comfort which 
 
THE PICTURE. 
 
 The damn'd pretend, fellows in misery, 
 Takes nothing from their torments : every 
 
 one, 
 
 Must suffer, in himself, the measure of 
 His wickedness. If so, as I must grant, 
 It being unrefutable in reason, 
 Howe'er my lord offend, it is no warrant 
 For me to walk in his forbidden paths : 
 What penance then can expiate my guilt, 
 For my consent (transported then with 
 
 passion) 
 
 To wantonness? the wounds I give my fame, 
 Cannot recover his ; and, though I have fed 
 These courtiers with promises and hopes, 
 I am yet in fact untainted ; and I trust, 
 My sorrow for it, with my purity, 
 And love to goodness for itself, made 
 
 powerful, 
 Though all they have alleged prove true or 
 
 false, 
 
 Will be such exorcisms as shall Command 
 This Fury, jealousy, from me? What I have 
 Determined touching them, I am resolved 
 To put in execution. Within, there ! . 
 
 Enter Hilario, Corisca, with other Servants. 
 
 Where are my noble guests ? 
 
 HiL The elder, madam, 
 Is drinking by himself to your ladyship's 
 
 health, 
 
 In muskadine and eggs ; and, for a rasher 
 To draw his liquor down, he hath got a pie 
 Of marrowbones, potatoes, and eringos, 
 With many such ingredients ; and, 'tis said, 
 He hath sent his man in post to the next 
 
 town, 
 
 For a pound of ambergris, and half a peck 
 Of fishes call'd cantharides. 
 
 Cor is. The younger 
 
 Prunes up himself, as if this night he were 
 To act a bridegroom's part ; but to what 
 
 purpose, 
 
 I am ignorance itself. 
 Soph. Continue so. 
 
 {Gives the servants the paper. 
 Let those lodgings be prepared as this di- 
 rects you : 
 
 And fail not in a circumstance, as you 
 Respect my favour. 
 
 1 Serv. We have our instructions. 
 
 2 Serv. And punctually will follow theni. 
 
 \Exeunt Servants. 
 
 Enter Ubaldo. 
 
 HiL Here comes, madam, 
 The lord Ubaldo. 
 
 Ubald. Pretty one, there's gold 
 To buy thee a new gown ; [To Coris.] and 
 there's for thee ; 
 
 Grow fat, and fit for service. [To Hil.] I 
 
 am now, 
 
 As I should be, at the height, and able to- 
 Beget a giant. O my better angel ! 
 In this you shew your wisdom, when you pay 
 The letcher in his own coin ; shall you sit 
 
 puling, 
 
 Like a Patient Grizzle, and be laughed at? no : 
 This is a fair revenge. Shall we to't? 
 Soph. To what, sir? 
 Ubald. The sport you promised. 
 Soph. Could it be done with safety. 
 Ubald. I warrant you ; I am sound as a 
 
 bell, a tough 
 Old blade, and steel to the back, as you 
 
 shall find me 
 In the trial on your anvil. 
 Soph. So ; but how, sir, 
 Shall I satisfy your friend, to whom, by 
 
 promise, 
 I am equally engaged ? 
 
 Ubald. I must confess, 
 The more the merrier ; but, of all men living, 
 Take heed of him : you may safer run upon 
 The mouth of a cannon when it is unlading, 
 And come off colder. 
 
 Soph. How ! is he not wholesome? 
 Ubald. Wholesome ! I'll tell you, for your 
 
 good : he is 
 
 A spittle of diseases, and, indeed, 
 More loathsome and infectious ; the tub is 
 His weekly bath : he hath not drank this 
 
 seven years, 
 
 Before he came to your house, but composi- 
 tions 
 
 Of sassafras and guaicum ; and dry mutton 
 His daily portion : name what scratch soever 
 Can be got by women, and the surgeons 
 
 will resolve you, 
 At this time, or at that, Ricardo had it. 
 Soph. Bless me from him ! 
 Ubald. 'Tis a good prayer, lady. 
 It being a degree unto the pox, 
 Only to mention him : if my tongue burn 
 
 not, hang me, 
 When I but name Ricardo. 
 
 Soph. Sir, this caution 
 Must be rewarded. 
 
 Ubald. I hope I have marr'd his market, 
 [Aside. 
 But when ? 
 
 Soph. Why, presently ; follow my woman, 
 She knows where to conduct you, and will 
 
 serve 
 To-night for a page. Let the waistcoat I 
 
 appointed, 
 With the cambric shirt perfumed, and the 
 
 rich cap, 
 Be brought into his chamber. 
 
3io 
 
 THE PICTURE. 
 
 Ubald. Excellent lady ! 
 And a caudle too in the morning. 
 Coris. I will fit you. 
 
 \Exeunt Ubaldo and Corisca. 
 
 Enter Ricardo. 
 Soph. So hot on the scent ! Here comes 
 
 the other beagle. 
 
 Ric. Take purse and all. [To Hilario. 
 Hil. If this company would come often, 
 I should make a pretty term on't. 
 
 Soph. For your sake 
 
 I have put him off ; he only begg'd a kiss, 
 I gave it, and so parted. 
 
 Ric. I hope better : 
 
 He did not touch your lips ? 
 
 Soph. Yes, I assure you. 
 There was no danger in it ? 
 Ric. No ! eat presently 
 These lozenges of forty crowns an ounce, 
 Or you are undone. 
 
 Soph. What is the virtue of them ? 
 Ric. They are preservatives against stink- 
 ing breath, 
 Rising from rotten lungs. 
 
 Soph. If so, your carriage 
 Of such dear antidotes, in my opinion, 
 May render yours suspected. 
 Ric. Fie ! no ; I use them 
 j When I talk with him, I should be poison 'd 
 
 else, 
 But I'll be free with you : he was once a 
 
 creature, 
 
 It may be, of God's making, but long since 
 He is tum'd to a druggist's shop ; the spring 
 
 and fall 
 Hold all the year with him : that he lives, 
 
 he owes 
 
 To art, not nature ; she has given him o'er. 
 He moves, like the fairy king, on screws and 
 
 wheels, 
 
 Made by his doctor's recipes, and yet still 
 | Theyareout of joint, and every day repairing. 
 He has a regiment of whores he keeps, 
 At his own charge, in a lazar-house ; but the 
 
 best is, 
 There's not a nose among them. He's 
 
 acquainted 
 
 With the green water, and the spitting pill's 
 Familiar to him : in a frosty morning, 
 You may thrust him in a pottle-pot ; his bones 
 Rattle in his skin, like beans tossed in a 
 
 bladder. 
 
 If he but hear a coach, the fomentation, 
 The friction with fumigation, cannot save 
 
 him 
 
 From the chine-evil. In a word, he is 
 Not one disease, but all ; yet, being my 
 friend, 
 
 I will forbear his character, for I would not. 
 Wrong him in your opinion. 
 
 Soph. The best is, 
 
 The virtues you bestow on him, to me 
 Are mysteries I know not ; but, however, 
 I am at your service. Sirrah, let it be your 
 
 care 
 To unclothe the gentleman, and with speed ; 
 
 delay 
 Takes from delight. 
 
 Ric. Good ! there's my hat, sword, cloak : 
 A vengeance on these buttons ! off with my 
 
 doublet, 
 I dare shew my skin ; in the touch you will 
 
 like it better. 
 Prithee cut my codpiece-points, and, for this 
 
 service, 
 
 When I leave them off, they are thine. 
 Hil. I'll take your word, sir. 
 Ric. Dear lady, stay not long. 
 Soph. I may come too soon, sir. 
 Ric. No, no ; I am ready now. 
 Hil. This is the way, sir. 
 
 [Exeunt Hilario and Ricardo. 
 Soph. I was much to blame to credit their 
 
 reports 
 
 Touching my lord, that so traduce each other, 
 And with such virulent malice ; though I 
 
 presume 
 They are bad enough ; but I have studied 
 
 for them 
 A way for their recovery. 
 
 [A noise of clapping a door; Ubaldo 
 
 appears above in his shirt. 
 Ubald. What dost thou mean, wench ? 
 Why dost thou shut the door upon me? Ha ! 
 My clothes are ta'en away too ! shall I starve 
 
 here? 
 Is this my lodging? I am sure the lady 
 
 talk'd of 
 
 A rich cap, a perfum'd shirt, and a waistcoat ; 
 But here is nothing but a little fresh straw, 
 A petticoat fora coverlet, and that torn too, 
 And an old woman's biggin, for a night-cap. 
 
 Re-enter Corisca below. 
 
 'Slight, 'tis a prison, or a pigsty. Ha ! 
 The windows grated with iron ! I cannot 
 
 force them, 
 
 And if I leap down here, I break my neck ; 
 I aip betray'd. Rogues ! Villains ! let me out ; 
 I am a lord, and that's no common title, 
 And shall I be used thus ? 
 
 Soph. Let him rave, he's fast ; 
 I'll parley with him at leisure. 
 
 Ricardo entering -with a great noise above, 
 as fallen. 
 
 Ric. Zounds ! have you trapdoors ? 
 
THE PICTURE. 
 
 Soph. The other bird's i'the cage too, let 
 him flutter. 
 
 Ric. Whither aru I fallen? into hell ! 
 
 Ubald. Who makes that noise, there? 
 Help me, if thou art a friend. 
 
 Ric. A friend ! I am where 
 I cannot help myself ; let me see thy face. 
 
 Ubald. How, Ricardo ! Prithee, throw me 
 "Thy cloak, if thou canst, to cover me ; I am 
 
 ' almost 
 Frozen to death. 
 
 Ric. My cloak ! I have no breeches ; 
 I am in my shirt, as thou art ; and here's 
 
 nothing 
 For myself but a clown's cast suit. 
 
 Ubald. We are both undone. 
 Prithee, roar a little Madam ! 
 
 .Re-cuter Hilario beloiu, in Ricardo's clothes. 
 
 Ric. Lady of the house ! 
 
 Ubald. Grooms of the chamber ! 
 
 Ric. Gentlewomen ! Milkmaids ! 
 
 Ubald. Shall we be murder'd ? 
 
 Soph. No, but soundly punish'd, 
 To your deserts. 
 
 Ric. You are not in earnest, madam? 
 
 Soph. Judge as you find, and feel it ; and 
 
 now hear 
 
 What I irrevocably purpose to you. 
 Being received as guests into my house, 
 And with all it afforded entertain 'd, 
 You have forgot all hospitable duties ; 
 And, with the defamation of my lord, 
 Wrought on my woman weakness, in revenge 
 Of his injuries, as you fashion'd them to me, 
 To yield my honour to your lawless lust. 
 
 Hil. Mark that, poor fellows ! 
 
 Soph. And so far you have 
 Transgress 'd against the dignity of men, 
 Who should, bound to it by virtue, still defend 
 Chaste ladies' honours, that it was your trade 
 To make them infamous : but you are caught 
 In your own toils, like lustful beasts, and 
 
 therefore 
 
 Hope not to find the usage of men from me : 
 Such mercy you .have forfeited, and shall 
 
 suffer 
 Like the most slavish women. 
 
 Ubald. How will you use us ? 
 
 Soph. Ease, and excess in feeding, made 
 
 you wanton. 
 
 A plurisy of ill blood you must let out, 
 By labour, and spare diet that way got too, 
 Or perish for hunger. Reach him up that 
 
 distaff 
 
 With the flax upon it ; though no Omphale, 
 Nor you a second Hercules, as I take it, 
 As you spin well .at my command, and please 
 me, 
 
 Your wages, in the coarsest bread and water, 
 Shall be proportionable. 
 Ubald. I will starve first. 
 Soph. That's as you please. 
 Ric. What will become of me now ? 
 Soph. You shall have gentler work ; I have 
 
 oft observed 
 You were proud to shew the fineness of your 
 
 hands, 
 And softness of your fingers ; you should 
 
 reel well 
 What he spins, if you give your mind to it, as 
 
 I'll force you. 
 
 Deliver him his materials. Now you know 
 Your penance, fall to work ; hunger will teach 
 
 you : 
 
 And so, as slaves to your lust, not me, I leave 
 you. [Exeunt Sophia and Corisca. 
 
 Ubald. I shall spin a fine thread out now ! 
 Ric. I cannot look 
 
 On these devices, but they put me in mind 
 Of rope-makers. 
 
 Hil. Fellow, think of thy task. 
 Forget such vanities ; my livery there, 
 Will serve thee to work in. 
 
 Ric. Let me have my clothes yet ; 
 I was bountiful to thee. 
 
 Hil. They are past your wearing, 
 And mine by promise, as all these can witness. 
 You have no holidays coming, nor will I work 
 While these, and this lasts ; and so, when you 
 
 please, 
 You may shut up your shop windows. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Ubald. I am faint, 
 And must lie down. 
 Ric. I am hungry too, and cold. 
 
 cursed women ! 
 
 Ubald. This comes of our whoring. 
 But let us rest as well as we can to-night, 
 But not o'ersleep ourselves, lest we fast to- 
 morrow. [ They withdraw. 
 
 SCENE III. Alba Rcgalis. A Room in 
 
 the Palace. 
 
 Enter Ladislaus, Honoria, Eubulus, Ferdi- 
 nand, Acanthe, and Attendants. 
 Hon. Now you know all, sir, with the 
 motives why 
 
 1 forced him to my lodging. 
 Ladis. I desire 
 
 No more such trials, lady. 
 
 Hon. I presume, sir, 
 You do not doubt my chastity. 
 
 Ladis. I would not ; 
 But these are strange inducements. 
 
 Eubu. By no means, sir. 
 Why, though he were with violence seized 
 upon, 
 
312 
 
 THE PICTURE. 
 
 And still detain'd, the man, sir, being no 
 
 soldier, 
 Nor used to charge his pike when the breach 
 
 is open, 
 
 There was no danger in't! You must con- 
 ceive, sir, 
 
 Being religious, she chose him for a chaplain, 
 To read old homilies to her in the dark ; 
 She's bound to it by her canons. 
 
 Ladis. Still tormented 
 With thy impertinence ! 
 
 Hon. By yourself, dear sir, 
 I was ambitious only to o'erthrow 
 His boasted constancy in his consent ; 
 But for fact, I contemn him : I was never 
 Unchaste in thought ; I laboured to give 
 
 proof 
 
 What power dwells in this beauty you ad- 
 mire so ; 
 And when you see how soon it has trans- 
 
 form'd him, 
 
 And with what superstition he adores it, 
 Determine as you please. 
 Ladis. I will look on 
 
 This pageant ; but 
 
 Hon. When you have seen and heard, sir, 
 The passages which I myself discover'd, 
 i And could have kept conceal' d, had I meant 
 
 basely, 
 Judge as you please. 
 
 Ladis. Well, I'll observe the issue. 
 Eubu. How had you ta'en this, general, in 
 
 your wife ? 
 
 Ferd. As a strange curiosity ; but queens 
 
 Are privileged above subjects, and 'tis fit, sir. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE IV. Another Room in the same. 
 
 Enter Mathias and Baptista. 
 Bapt. You are much alter'd, sir, since the 
 
 last night, 
 
 When the queen left you, and look cheerfully, 
 Your dulness quite blown over. 
 
 Math. I have seen a vision 
 This morning, makes it good ; and never was 
 In such security as at this instant, 
 Fall what can fall : and when the queen 
 
 appears, 
 
 Whose shortest absence now is tedious to me, 
 Observe the encounter. 
 
 Enter Honoria. Ladislaus, Eubulus, Fer- 
 dinand, and Acanthe, with others, ap- 
 pear above, 
 
 Bapt. She already is 
 Enter'd the lists. 
 
 Math. And I prepared to meet her. 
 Bapt, I know my duty. [Going. 
 
 Hon. Not so, you may stay now, 
 As a witness of our contract. 
 
 Bapt. I obey 
 In all things, madam. 
 
 Hon. Where's that reverence, 
 Or rather superstitious adoration, 
 Which, captive-like, to my triumphant beauty 
 You paid last night ? No humble knee, nor 
 
 sign 
 
 Of vassal duty ! sure this is the foot, 
 To whose proud cover, and then happy in it, 
 Your lips were glued ; and that the neck 
 
 then offer'd, 
 
 To witness your subjection, to be trod on ; 
 Your certain loss of life in the king's anger 
 Was then too mean a price to buy my favour ; 
 And that false glow-worm fire of constancy 
 To your wife, extinguish 'd by a greater light 
 Shot from our eyes ; and that, it may be, 
 
 (being 
 Too glorious to be look'd on,) hath deprived 
 
 you 
 
 Of speech and motion : but I will take off 
 A little from the splendour, and descend 
 From my own height, and in your lowness 
 
 hear you 
 Plead as a suppliant. 
 
 Math. I do remember 
 I once saw such a woman. 
 Hon. How ! 
 Math. And then 
 
 She did appear a most magnificent queen, 
 And, what's more, virtuous, though some- 
 what darken 'd 
 
 With pride, and self-opinion. 
 Eubu. Call you this courtship ? 
 Math. And she was happy in a royal 
 
 husband, 
 
 Whom envy could not tax, unless it were 
 For his too much indulgence to her humours. 
 Eubu. Pray you, sir, observe that touch, 
 
 'tis to the purpose ; 
 I like the play the better for't. 
 
 Math. And she lived 
 Worthy her birth and fortune ; you retain 
 
 yet 
 
 Some part of her angelical form ; but when 
 Envy to the beauty of another woman, 
 Inferior to hers, one that she never 
 Had seen, but in her picture, had dispersed 
 Infection through her veins, and loyalty, 
 Which a great queen, as she was, should 
 have nourish 'd, 
 
 Grew odious to her 
 
 Hon. I am thunderstruck. 
 
 Math. And lust, in all the bravery it could 
 
 borrow 
 
 From majesty, howe'er disguised, had ta'eu 
 Sure footing in the kingdom of her heart, 
 
THE PICTURE. 
 
 The throne of chastity once, how, in a 
 
 moment, 
 All that was gracious, great, and glorious 
 
 in her, 
 And won upon all hearts, like seeming 
 
 shadows 
 Wanting true substance, vanish'd ! 
 
 Hon. How his reasons 
 Work on my soul ! 
 
 Math. Retire into yourself ; 
 Your own strengths, madam, strongly 
 
 mann'd with virtue, 
 
 And be but as you were, and there's no office 
 So base, beneath the slavery that men 
 Impose on beasts, but I will gladly bow to. 
 But as you play and juggle with a stranger, 
 Varying your shapes like Thetis, though the 
 
 beauties 
 
 Of all that are by poets' raptures sainted 
 Were now in you united, you should pass 
 Pitied by me, perhaps, but not regarded. 
 
 Eubu. If this take not, I am cheated. 
 
 Math. To slip once, 
 
 Is incident, and excused by human frailty ; 
 But to fall ever, damnable. We were both 
 Guilty, I grant, in tendering our affection ; 
 But, as I hope you will do, I repented. 
 When we are grown up to ripeness, our life is 
 Like to this [magick] picture. While we run 
 A constant race in goodness, it retains 
 The just proportion ; but the journey being 
 Tedious, and sweet temptation in the way, 
 That may in some degree divert us from 
 The road that we put forth in, ere we end 
 Our pilgrimage, it may, like this, turn yellow, 
 Or be with blackness clouded : but when we 
 Find we have gone astray, and labour to 
 Return unto our never-failing guide, 
 Virtue, contrition, with unfeigned tears, 
 The spots of vice wash'd off, will soon re- 
 store it 
 To the first pureness. 
 
 Hon. I am disenchanted : 
 Mercy, O mercy, heavens ! \Kneels. 
 
 Ladis. I am ravish'd 
 With what I have seen and heard. 
 
 Ferd. Let us descend, 
 And hear the rest below. 
 
 Eubu. This hath fallen out 
 Beyond my expectation. [They retire. 
 
 Hon. How have I wander'd 
 Out of the track of piety ! and misled 
 By overweening pride, and flattery 
 Of fawning sycophants, (the bane of great- 
 ness,) 
 
 Could never meet till now a passenger, 
 That in his charity would set me right, 
 Or stay me in my precipice to ruin. 
 How ill have I retura'd your goodness tome ! 
 
 The horror, in my thought oft, turns me 
 
 marble : 
 But if it may be yet prevented 
 
 Re-enter Ladislaus, Eubulus, Ferdinand, 
 Acanthe, and others, belozv. 
 
 Osir, 
 
 What can I do to shew my sorrow, or 
 With what brow ask your pardon ? 
 Ladis. Pray you, rise. 
 Hon. Never, till you forgive me, and re- 
 ceive 
 
 Unto your love and favour a changed woman : 
 My state and pride turn'd to humility, hence- 
 forth 
 Shall wait on your commands, and my 
 
 obedience 
 Steer'd only by your will. 
 
 Ladis. And that will prove 
 A second and a better marriage to me. 
 All is forgotten. 
 
 Hon. Sir, I must not rise yet, 
 Till, with a free confession of a crime 
 Unknown to you yet, and a following suit, 
 Which thus I beg, be granted. 
 
 Ladis. I melt with you : 
 'Tis pardon'd, and confirm'd thus. 
 
 [Raises her. 
 Hon. Know then, sir, 
 In malice to this good knight's wife, I 
 
 practised 
 
 Ubaldo and Ricardo to corrupt her. 
 Bapt. Thence grew the change of the 
 picture. [Aside. 
 
 Hon. And how far 
 They have prevail'd, I am ignorant : now, 
 
 if you, sir, 
 For the honour of this good man, may be 
 
 entreated 
 
 To travel thither, it being but a day's 
 journey, 
 
 To fetch them off 
 
 Ladis. We will put on to-night. 
 Bapt. I, if you please, your harbinger. 
 Ladis. I thank you. 
 Let me embrace you in my arms ; your 
 
 service 
 Done on the Turk, compared with this,. 
 
 weighs nothing. 
 
 Math. I am still your humble creature. 
 Ladis. My true friend. 
 Ferd. And so you are bound to hold him. 
 Eubu. Such a plant 
 
 Imported to your kingdom, and here grafted, 
 Would yield more fruit than all the idle- 
 
 weeds 
 That suck up your rain of favour. 
 
 Ladis. In my will 
 I'll not be wanting. Prepare for our journey. 
 
THE PICTURE. 
 
 In act be my Honoria now, not name, 
 And to all aftertimes preserve thy fame. 
 
 \_Excuntm 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 SCENE I. Bohemia. A Hall in Mathias 
 
 House. 
 Enter Sophia, Corisca, and Hilario. 
 
 Soph. Are they then so humble? 
 Hil. Hunger and hard labour 
 
 Have tamed them, madam ; at the first they 
 bellow'd 
 
 Like stags ta'en in a toil, and would not work 
 
 For sullenness ; but when they found, with- 
 out it, 
 
 There was no eating, and that, to starve to 
 death, 
 
 Was much against their stomach; by de- 
 grees, 
 
 Against their wills, they fell to it. 
 Cor is. And now feed on 
 
 The little pittance you allow, with gladness. 
 Hil. I do remember that they stopp'd their 
 noses 
 
 At the sight of beef and mutton, as coarse 
 feeding 
 
 For their fine palates ; but now, their work 
 being ended, 
 
 They leap at a barley crust, and hold cheese- 
 parings, 
 
 With a spoonful of pall'd wine pour'd in 
 their water, 
 
 For festival-exceedings. 
 Coris. When I examine 
 
 My spinster's work, he trembles like a 
 prentice, 
 
 And takes a box on the ear, when I spy faults 
 
 And botches in his labour, as a favour 
 
 From a curst -mistress. 
 Hil. The other, too, reels well 
 
 For his time ; and if your ladyship would 
 please 
 
 To see them for your sport, since they want 
 airing, 
 
 It would do well, in my judgment ; you 
 shall hear 
 
 Such a hungry dialogue from them ! 
 Soph. But suppose, 
 
 When they are out of prison, they should 
 grow 
 
 Rebellious ? 
 Hil. Never fear't ; I'll undertake 
 
 To lead them out by the nose with a coarse 
 thread 
 
 Of the one's spinning, and make the other 
 reel after, 
 
 And without grumbling ; and when you are 
 
 weary of 
 Their company, as easily return them. 
 
 Coris. Dear madam, it will help to drive 
 
 away 
 Your melancholy. 
 
 Soph. Well, on this assurance, 
 I am content ; bring them hither. 
 
 Hil. I will do it 
 In stately equipage. \Exit. 
 
 Soph. They have confess'd, then, 
 They were set on by the queen, to taint me in 
 My loyalty to my lord ? 
 
 Coris. 'Twas the main cause, 
 That brought them hither. 
 
 Soph. I am glad I know it ; 
 And as I have begun, before I end 
 I'll at the height revenge it ; let us step 
 
 aside, 
 
 They come : the object's so ridiculous, 
 In spite of my sad thoughts, I cannot but 
 
 lend 
 A forced smile to grace it. 
 
 Re-enter Hilario, with Ubaldo spinning, 
 and Ricardo reeling. 
 
 Hil. Come away : 
 Work as you go, and lose no time, 'tis 
 
 precious ; 
 
 You'll find it in your commons. 
 Ric. Commons, call you it ! 
 The word is proper ; I have grazed so long 
 Upon your commons, I am almost starv'd 
 
 here. 
 Hil. Work harder, and they shall be 
 
 better'd. 
 
 Ubald. Better'd! 
 
 Worser they cannot be : would I might lie 
 Like a dog' under her table, and serve for a 
 
 footstool, 
 
 So I might have my belly full of that 
 Her Iceland cur refuses ! 
 Hil. How do you like 
 Your airing? is it not a favour? 
 
 Ric. Yes ; 
 Just such a one as you use to a brace of 
 
 greyhounds, 
 When they are led out of their kennels to 
 
 scumber ; 
 But our case is ten times harder, we have 
 
 nothing 
 
 In our bellies to be vented : if you will be 
 An honest yeoman-fewterer, feed us first, 
 And walk us after. 
 
 Hil. Yeoman-fewterer ! 
 Such another word to your governor, and 
 
 you go 
 
 upperless to bed for't. 
 Ubald. Nay, even as you please ; 
 
THE PICTURE. 
 
 The comfortable names of breakfasts, din- 
 ners, 
 
 Collations, supper, beverage, are words 
 Worn out of our remembrance. 
 
 Ric. O for the steam 
 Of meat in a cook's shop ! 
 
 Ubald. I am so dry 
 
 I have not spittle enough to \vet my fingers 
 When I draw my flax from my distaff. 
 
 Ric. Nor I strength 
 
 To raise my hand to the top of my reeler . Oh ! 
 I have the cramp all over me. 
 
 Hil. What do you think 
 Were best to apply to it? A cramp-stone, 
 
 as I take it, 
 Were very useful. 
 
 Ric. Oh ! no more of stones, 
 We have been used too long like hawks 
 
 already. 
 Ubald. We are not so high in our flesh 
 
 now to need casting, 
 We will come to an empty fist. 
 Hil. Nay, that you shall not. 
 So ho, birds ! [Holds -up a piece of bread ?\ 
 How the eyasses scratch and scramble ! 
 Take heed of a surfeit, do not cast your 
 
 gorges ; 
 This is more than I have commission for ; 
 
 be thankful. 
 Soph. Were all that study the abuse of 
 
 women, 
 Used thus, the city would not swarm with 
 
 cuckolds, 
 
 Nor so many tradesmen break. 
 Coris. Pray you, appear now, 
 And mark the alteration. 
 
 [Sophia comes forward. 
 Hil. To your work, 
 
 My lady is in presence ; shew your duties : 
 Exceeding well. 
 
 Soph. How do your scholars profit ? 
 Hil. Hold up your heads demurely. 
 
 Prettily, 
 For young beginners. 
 
 Coris. And will do well in time, 
 If they be kept in awe. 
 
 Ric. In awe ! I am sure 
 I quake like an aspen leaf. 
 Ubald. No mercy, lady? 
 Ric. Nor intermission ? 
 Soph. Let me see your work : 
 Fie upon't, what a thread's here ! a poor 
 
 cobler's wife 
 Would make a finer to sew a clown's rent 
 
 startup ; 
 And here you reel as you were drunk. 
 
 Ric. I am sure 
 It is not with wine. 
 
 Soph. O take, heed of wine ; 
 
 Cold water is far better for your healths, 
 Of which I am very tender : you had foul 
 
 bodies, 
 
 And must continue in this physical diet, 
 Till the cause of your disease be ta'en away, 
 For fear of a relapse ; and that is dangerous : 
 Yet I hope already that you are in some 
 Degree recover'd, and that way to resolve me, 
 Answer me truly ; nay, what I propound 
 Concerns both ; nearer : what would you 
 
 now give, 
 If your means were in your hands, to lie all 
 
 night 
 With a fresh and handsome lady ? 
 
 Ubald. How ! a lady ? 
 O, I am past it ; hunger with her razor 
 Hath made me an eunuch. 
 
 Ric. For a mess of porridge, 
 Well sopp'd with a bunch of radish and a 
 
 carrot, 
 
 ! would sell my barony ; but for women, oh ! 
 No more of women ; not a doit for a doxy, 
 After this hungry voyage. 
 
 Soph. These are truly 
 
 ood symptoms ; let them not venture too 
 
 much in the air, 
 Till they are weaker. 
 
 Ric. This is tyranny. 
 
 Ubald. Scorn upon scorn. 
 
 Soph. You were so 
 [n your malicious intents to me, 
 
 Enter a Servant. 
 
 And therefore 'tis but justice W T hat's the 
 
 business ? 
 Serv. My lord's great friend, signior 
 
 Baptista, madam, 
 
 Is newly lighted from his horse, with certain 
 Assurance of my lord's arrivM. 
 
 Soph. How? 
 And stand I trifling here ? Hence with the 
 
 mongrels 
 To their several kennels ; there let them howl 
 
 in private ; 
 I'll be no further troubled. 
 
 [Exeunt Sophia and Servant. 
 Ubald. O that ever 
 I saw this fury ! 
 
 Ric. Or look'd on a woman 
 But as a prodigy in nature ! 
 
 Hil. Silence; 
 No more of this. 
 
 Coris. Methinks you have no cause 
 To repent your being here. 
 
 Hil. Have you not learnt, 
 When your states are spent, your several 
 
 trades to live by, 
 And never charge the hospital ? 
 Coris. Work but tightly, 
 
3 i6 
 
 THE PICTURE. 
 
 And we will not use a dish-clout in the house, 
 But of your spinning. 
 
 Ubald. O, I would this hemp 
 Were turn'd to a halter ! 
 
 Hil. Will you march ? 
 
 Ric. A soft one, 
 Good general, I beseech you. 
 
 Ubald. I can hardly 
 Draw my legs after me. 
 
 Hil. For a crutch, you may use 
 Your distaff; a good wit makes use of all 
 things. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE II.-- A Room in the same. 
 
 Enter Sophia and Baptista. 
 Soph. Was he jealous of me ? 
 Bapt. There's no perfect love 
 Without some touch oft, madam. 
 
 Soph. And my picture, 
 Made by your devilish art, a spy upon 
 My actions ! I ne'er sat to be drawn, 
 Nor had you, sir, commission for't. 
 
 Bapt. Excuse me ; 
 At his earnest suit I did it. 
 
 Soph. Very good : 
 
 Was I grown so cheap in his opinion of me ? 
 Bapt. The prosperous events that crown 
 
 his fortunes, 
 May qualify the offence. 
 
 Soph. Good, the events ! 
 The sanctuary fools and madmen fly to, 
 When their rash and desperate undertakings 
 
 thrive well : 
 
 But good and wise men are directed by 
 Grave counsels, and with such deliberation 
 Proceed in their affairs, that chance has 
 
 nothing 
 To do with them : howsoe'er, take the pains, 
 
 sir, 
 
 To meet the honour (in the king and queen's 
 Approaches to my house) that breaks upon 
 
 me; 
 I will expect them with my best of care. 
 
 Bapt. To entertain such royal guests 
 
 Soph. I know it ; 
 Leave that to me, sir. [Exit Baptista. 
 
 What should move the queen, 
 So given to ease and pleasure, as fame speaks 
 
 her, 
 
 To such a journey ! or work on my lord, 
 To doubt my loyalty, nay, more, to take, 
 For the resolution of his fears, a course 
 That is by holy writ denied a Christian ? 
 'Twas impious' in him, and perhaps the wel- 
 come 
 He hopes in my embraces, may deceive 
 
 [ Trumpets sounded. 
 His expectation. The trumpets speak 
 The king's arrival : help, a woman's wit now, 
 
 To make him know his fault, and my just 
 anger ! [Exit. 
 
 SCENE III. A Hall in the Same. 
 
 A Flourish. Enter Ladislaus, Ferdinand, 
 Eubulus, Mathias, Baptista, Honoria.,and 
 Acanthe, with Attendants. 
 
 Eubu. Your majesty must b2 weary. 
 
 Hon. No, my lord, 
 A willing mind makes a hard journey easy. 
 
 Math. Not Jove, attended on by Hermes, 
 
 was 
 
 More welcome to the cottage of Philemon, 
 And his poor Baucis, than your gracious self, 
 Your matchless queen, and all your royal 
 
 train, 
 Are to your servant and his wife. 
 
 Ladis. Where is she ? 
 
 Hon. I long to see her as my now-loved 
 rival. 
 
 Eubu. And I to have a smack at her ; 'tis 
 
 a cordial 
 
 To an old man, better than sack and a toast 
 Before he goes to supper. 
 
 Math. Ha ! is my house turn'd 
 To a wilderness? norwife nor servants ready, 
 With all rites due to majesty, to receive 
 Such unexpected blessings ! You assured me 
 Of better preparation ; hath not 
 The excess of joy transported her beyond 
 Her understanding ? 
 
 Bapt. I now parted from her, 
 And gave her your directions. 
 
 Math. How shall I beg 
 Your majesties' patience ! sure my family's 
 
 drunk, 
 
 Or by some witch, in envy of my glory, 
 A dead sleep thrown upon them. 
 
 Enter Hilario and Servants. 
 
 Serv. Sir. 
 Math. But that 
 
 The sacred presence of the king forbids it,. 
 My sword should make a massacre among 
 
 you. 
 Where is your mistress? 
 
 Hil. First, you are welcome home, sir: 
 Then know, she says she's sick, sir. There's 
 
 no notice 
 Taken of my bravery ! [Aside. 
 
 Math. Sick at such a time ! 
 It cannot be : though she were on her death- 
 bed, 
 And her spirit e'en now departed, here stand 
 
 they 
 
 Could call it back again, and in this honour, 
 Give her a second being. Bring me to her ; 
 I know not what to urge, or how to redeem 
 
THE PICTURE. 
 
 317 
 
 This mortgage of her manners. 
 
 [Exeunt Mathias, Hilario, and 
 
 Servants. 
 
 Eubu. There's no climate 
 On the world, I think, where one jade's 
 
 trick or other 
 Reigns not in women. 
 
 Fcrd. You were ever bitter 
 Against the sex. 
 Ladis. This is very strange. 
 Hon. Mean women 
 Have their faults, as well as queens. 
 Ladis. O, she appears now. 
 
 Re-enter Mathias with Sophia ; Hilario 
 following. 
 
 Math. The injury that you conceive I 
 
 have done you 
 
 Dispute hereafter, and in your perverseness 
 Wrong not yourself and me. 
 
 Soph. I am past my childhood, 
 And need no tutor. 
 
 Math. This is the great king, 
 To whom I am engaged till death for all 
 I stand possess'd of. 
 
 Soph. My humble roof is proud, sir, 
 To be the canopy of so much greatness 
 Set ofTwith goodness. 
 
 Ladis. My own praises flying 
 In such pure air as your sweet breath, fair 
 
 lady, 
 Cannot but please me. 
 
 Math. This is the queen of queens, 
 In her magnificence to me. 
 
 Soph. In my duty 
 I kiss her highness' robe. 
 
 Hon. You stoop too low 
 To her whose lips would meet with yours. 
 [Kisses her. 
 
 Soph. Howe'er 
 
 It may appear preposterous in women, 
 So to encounter, 'tis your pleasure, madam, 
 And not my proud ambition. Do you hear, 
 
 sir? 
 
 Without a magical picture, in the touch 
 I find your print of close and wanton kisses 
 On the queen's lips. [Aside to Mathias. 
 
 Math. Upon your life be silent : 
 And now salute these lords. 
 
 Soph. Since you will have me, 
 You shall see I am experienced at the game, 
 And can play it tightly. You are a brave 
 man, sir, [To Ferdinand. 
 
 And do deserve a free and hearty welcome : 
 Be this the prologue to it. [Kisses him. 
 
 Eubu. An old man's turn 
 Is ever last in kissing. I have lips too, 
 However cold ones, madam. 
 
 Soph. I will warm them 
 With the fire of mine. [Kisses him. 
 
 Eubu. And so she has ! I thank you, 
 I shall sleep the better all night for't. 
 
 Math. You express 
 The boldness of a wanton courtezan, 
 And not a matron's modesty ; take up, 
 Or you are disgraced for ever. 
 
 [Aside to Soph. 
 Soph. How? with kissing 
 Feelingly, as you taught me? would you 
 
 have me 
 
 Turn my cheek to them, as proud ladies use 
 To their inferiors, as if they intended 
 Some business should be whisper'd in their 
 
 ear, 
 
 And not a salutation ? what I do, 
 I will do freely ; now I am in the humour, 
 I'll fly at all : are there any more ? 
 
 Math. Forbear, 
 
 Or you will raise my anger to a height 
 That will descend in fury. 
 Soph. Why ? you know 
 How to resolve yourself what my intents are, 
 By the help of Mephostophilus, and your 
 
 picture : 
 Pray you, look upon't again. I humbly 
 
 thank 
 The queen's great care of me while you 
 
 were absent. 
 She knew how tedious 'twas for a young 
 
 wife, 
 
 And being for that time a kind of widow, 
 To pass away her melancholy hours 
 Without good company, and in charity, 
 
 therefore, 
 
 Provided for me : out of her own store, 
 She cull'd-the lords Ubaldo and Ricardo, 
 Two principal courtiers for ladies' service, 
 To do me all good offices ; and as such 
 Employ'd by her, I hope I have received 
 And entertain'd them ; nor shall they depart, 
 Without the effect arising from the cause 
 That brought them hither. 
 
 Math. Thou dost belie thyself : 
 I know that in my absence thou wert honest, 
 However now turn'd monster. 
 
 Soph. The truth is, 
 
 We did not deal, like you, in speculations 
 On cheating pictures ; we knew shadows were 
 No substances, and actual performance 
 The best assurance. I will bring them 
 
 hither, 
 To make good in this presence so much for 
 
 me. 
 Some minutes space I beg your majesties' 
 
 pardon. 
 You are moved now : champ upon this bit 
 
 a little, 
 
THE PICTURE. 
 
 Anon you shall have another. Wait me, 
 Hilario. [Exeunt Sophia and Hilario. 
 
 Lad is. How now ? turn'd statue, sir ! 
 
 Math. Fly, and fly quickly, 
 From this cursed habitation, or this Gorgon 
 Will make you all as I am. In her tongue 
 Millions of adders hiss, and every hair 
 Upon her wicked head a snake more dreadful, 
 Than that Tisiphone threw on Athamas, 
 Which in his madness forced him to dis- 
 member 
 
 His proper issue. O that ever I 
 Reposed my trust in magick, or believed 
 Impossibilities ! or that charms had power 
 To sink and search into the bottomless hell 
 Of a false woman's heart ! 
 
 Eubn. These are the fruits 
 Of marriage ! an old bachelor as I am, 
 And, what's more, will continue so, is not 
 
 troubled 
 With these fine vagaries. 
 
 Ferd. Till you are resolv'd, sir, 
 Forsake not hope. 
 
 Bap. Upon my life, this is 
 Dissimulation. 
 
 Ladis. And it suits not with 
 Your fortitude and wisdom, to be thus 
 Transported with your passion. 
 
 Hon. You were once 
 Deceived in me, sir, as I was in you ; 
 Yet the deceit pleased both. 
 
 Math. She hath confess'd all ; 
 What further proof should I ask ? 
 
 Hon. Yet remember 
 The distance that is interposed between 
 A woman's tongue and her heart ; and you 
 
 must grant, 
 You build upon no certainties. ' 
 
 Re-enter Sophia, Corisca, and Hilario, with 
 Ubaldo and Ricardo in rags, and spinning 
 and reeling, as before. 
 
 Eubu. What have we here? 
 
 Soph. You must come on, and shew your- 
 selves. 
 
 Ubald. The king ! 
 
 Ric. And queen too ! would I were as far 
 
 under the earth 
 As I am above it ! 
 
 Ubald. Some poet will, 
 From this relation, or in verse or prose, 
 Or both together blended, render us 
 Ridiculous to all ages. 
 
 Ladis. I remember 
 
 This face, when it was in a better plight : 
 Are not you Ricardo ? 
 
 Hon. And this thing, I take it, 
 Was once Ubaldo. 
 
 Ubald. I am now I know not what. 
 Ric. We thank your majesty for employ- 
 ing us 
 To this subtle Circe. 
 
 Eubu. How, my lord ! turn'd spinster ! 
 Do you work by the day, or the great ? 
 
 Ferd. Is your theorbo 
 
 Turn'd to a distaff, signior ? and your voice, 
 With which you chanted, Room for a lusty 
 
 gallant! 
 Tuned to the note of Lachrynuz ? 
 
 Eubu. Prithee tell me, 
 For I know thou'rt free, how oft, and to the 
 
 purpose, 
 
 You've been merry with this lady. 
 Ric. Never, never. 
 Ladis. Howsoever, you should say so for 
 
 your credit, 
 Being the only court-bull. 
 
 Ubald. O, that ever 
 I saw this kicking heifer ! 
 Soph. You see, madam, 
 How I have cured your servants, and what 
 
 favours, 
 They, with their rampant valour, have won 
 
 from me. 
 
 You may, as they are physic'd, I presume, 
 Trust a fair virgin with them ; they have 
 
 learn'd 
 Their several trades to live by, and paid 
 
 nothing 
 
 But cold and hunger for them ; and may now- 
 Set up for themselves, for here I give then* 
 
 over. 
 
 And now to you, sir ; why do you not again. 
 Peruse your picture, and take the advice 
 Of your learned consort ? these are the men,. 
 
 or none, 
 
 That make you, as the Italian says, a becco. 
 Math. I know not which way to entreat 
 
 your pardon, 
 
 Nor am I worthy of it. My Sophia, 
 My best Sophia, here before the king, 
 The queen, these lords, and all the lookers on;. 
 I do renounce my error, and embrace you, 
 As the great example to all aftertimes, 
 For such as would die chaste and noble wives,. 
 With reverence to imitate. 
 
 Soph. Not so, sir ; 
 
 I yet hold off. However I have purged 
 My doubted innocence, the foul aspersions, 
 In your unmanly doubts, cast on my honour,. 
 Cannot so soon be wash'd oft". 
 
 Eubu. Shall we have 
 More jiggobobs yet ! 
 
 Soph. When you went to the wars, 
 I set no spy upon you, to observe 
 Which way you wander'd, though our sex by- 
 nature 
 
THE PICTURE. 
 
 Is subject to suspicions and fears ; 
 
 My confidence in your loyalty freed me from 
 them. 
 
 But, to deal, as you did, against your re- 
 ligion, 
 
 With this enchanter, to survey my actions, 
 
 Was more than woman's weakness ; therefore 
 know, 
 
 And 'tis my boon unto the king, I do 
 
 Desire a separation from your bed ; 
 
 For I will spend the remnant of my life 
 
 In prayer and meditation. 
 Math. O take pity 
 
 Upon my weak condition, or I am 
 
 More wretched in your innocence, than if 
 
 I had found you guilty. Have you shewn a 
 jewel 
 
 Out of the cabinet of your rich mind, 
 
 To lock it up again ? She turns away. 
 
 Will none speak for me ? shame and sin have 
 robb'd me 
 
 Of the use of my tongue. 
 Lad is. Since you have conquer'd, madam, 
 
 You wrong the glory of your victory, 
 
 If you use it not with mercy. 
 Ferd. Any penance 
 
 You please to impose upon him, I dare 
 warrant 
 
 He will gladly suffer. 
 Eubu. Have I lived to see 
 
 But one good woman, and shall we for a 
 trifle, 
 
 Have her turn nun ? I will first pull down the 
 cloister. 
 
 To the old sport again, with a good luck to 
 you ! 
 
 Tis not alone enough that you are good, 
 
 We must have some of the breed of you : will 
 you destroy 
 
 The kind and race of goodness ? I am con- 
 verted, 
 
 And ask your pardon, madam, for my ill 
 opinion 
 
 Against the sex ; and shew me but two such 
 
 more, 
 I'll marry yet, and love them. 
 
 Hon. She that yet 
 Ne'er knew what 'twas to bend but to the- 
 
 king, 
 Thus begs remission for him. 
 
 Soph. O, dear madam, 
 Wrong not your greatness so. 
 Omnes. We are all suitors. 
 Ubald. I do deserve to be heard among 
 
 the rest. 
 
 Ric. And we have suffer'd for it. 
 Soph. I perceive 
 
 There's no resistance : but, suppose I pardon 
 What's past, who can secure me he'll be free 
 From jealousy hereafter ? 
 
 Math. I will be 
 
 My own security ; go, ride, where you please ; 
 Feast, revel, banquet, and make choice with 
 
 whom, 
 I'll set no watch upon you ; and, for proof. 
 
 of it, 
 
 This cursed picture I surrender up 
 To a consuming fire. 
 Bapt. As I abjure 
 The practice of my art. 
 
 Soph. Upon these terms 
 I am reconciled ; and, for these that have- 
 paid 
 
 The price of their folly, I desire your mercy. 
 Ladis. At your request they have it. 
 Ubald. Hang all trades now ! 
 Ric. I will find a new one, and that is, to* 
 
 live honest. 
 
 Hil. These are my fees. 
 Ubald. Pray you, take them, with a mis- 
 chief ! 
 
 Ladis. So, all ends in peace now. 
 And, to all married men, be this a caution, 
 Which they should duly tender as their life,.. 
 Neither to dote too much, nor doubt a wife. 
 
 \Exeunt. 
 
The Emperor of the East 
 
 PROLOGUE 
 
 AT THE BLACKFRIARS. 
 
 But that imperious custom warrants it, 
 Our author with much willingness would omit 
 This preface to his new work. He hath found, 
 (And suffer d for t, ) many are apt to wound 
 His credit in this kind : and, whether he 
 Express himsef fearful, or peremptory, 
 He cannot 'scape their censures who delight 
 To misapply whatever he shall write. 
 ' Tis his hard fate. And though he will not sue, 
 Or basely beg such suffrages, yet, to you, 
 free and ingenious spirits, he doth now, 
 In me, present his service, with his vow, 
 He hath done his best : and, though he cannot glory 
 In his invention, (this work being a story 
 Of reverend antiquity,) he doth hope 
 In the proportion uf it, and the scope, 
 You may observe some pieces drawn like one 
 Of a stedfast hand ; and, with the whiter stone. 
 To be marked in your fair censures. More than t/i 
 I am forbid to promise, and it is 
 With the most till you confirm it : since ive know 
 \Vhate' er the shaft be, archer, or the bow 
 From which 'tis sent, it cannot hit the white. 
 Unless your approbation guide it right. 
 
 PROLOGUE 
 
 AT COURT. 
 
 As ever, sir, you lent a gracious ear 
 To oppress' d innocence, now voiichsafe to hear 
 A short petition. At your feet, in me, 
 The poet kneels, and to your majesty 
 Appeals for justice. What we now present, 
 \Vhenfirst conceived, in his vote and intent, 
 Was sacred to your pleasure ; in each part, 
 With his best of fancy, judgment, language, art, 
 Fashion d and form d so, as might well, and may 
 Deserve a welcome, and no vulgar way. 
 He durst not, sir, at such a solemn feast, 
 Lard his grave matter with one scurrilous jest; 
 But labour d that no passage might appear, 
 But what the queen without a blush might hear: 
 And yet this poor work suffered by the rage 
 And envy of some Catos of the stage: 
 Yet still he hopes this Play, which then was seen 
 With sore eyes, and condemn d out of their spleen, 
 May be by you, the supreme judge, set free, 
 And raised above the reach of calumny* 
 
THE EMPEROR OF THE EAST. 
 
 32* 
 
 DRAMATIS PERSONS. 
 
 Theodosius the younger, the emperor. 
 Paulinus, a. kinsman to the emperor. 
 Philanax, captain of the guard. 
 
 emperors cham- 
 
 Gratianus, 
 
 Cleon, a traveller, friend to Paulinus. 
 
 Patriarch. 
 
 Informer. 
 
 Projector. 
 
 Master of the Habits and Manners. 
 
 Minion of the Suburbs. 
 
 Coiintryman. 
 
 Surgeon. 
 
 Empiric. 
 
 Pulcheria, the protectress, sister to the em- 
 peror. 
 
 Athenais, a strange "virgin, aftei wards em- 
 press, and named Eudocia. 
 
 F^acdlfa, } the y un S sist ^ rs of the emperor. 
 Officers, Suitors, Attendants, Guards, 
 Huntsman, Executioners, Servants, &c.- 
 
 SCENE, Constantinople. 
 
 CT I. 
 
 SCENE I. A Room in the Palace. 
 
 Enter Paulinus and Cleon. 
 Paul. In your six years' travel, friend, no 
 
 doubt, you have met with 
 Many and rare adventures, and observed 
 The wonders of each climate, varying in 
 The manners and the men ; and so return, 
 For the future service of your prince and 
 
 country, 
 In your understanding better'd. 
 
 Cle. Sir, I have made of it 
 The best use in my power, and hope my 
 
 gleanings 
 
 After the full crop others reap'd before me, 
 Shall not, when I am call'd on, altogether 
 Appear unprofitable : yet I left 
 The miracle of miracles in our age 
 At home behind me ; every where abroad, 
 Fame, with a true though prodigal voice, 
 
 deliver'd 
 
 Such wonders of Pulcheria, the princess, 
 To the amazement, nay, astonishment rather, 
 Of such as heard it, that I found not one, 
 In all the states and kingdoms that I pass'd 
 
 through, 
 Worthy to be her second. 
 
 Paul. She, indeed, is 
 A perfect phoenix, and disdains a rival. 
 Her infant years, as you know, promised 
 
 much, 
 But, grown to ripeness, she transcends, and 
 
 makes 
 
 Credulity her debtor. I will tell you, 
 In my blunt way, to entertain the time, 
 Until you have the happiness to see her, 
 How in your absence she hath borne herself, 
 And with all possible brevity ; though the 
 
 subject 
 Is such a spacious field, as would require 
 
 An abstract of the purest eloquence 
 (Derived from the most famous orators 
 The nurse of learning, Athens, shew'd the 
 
 world) 
 
 In that man, that should undertake to be 
 Her true historian. 
 
 Cle. In this you shall do me 
 A special favour. 
 
 Paul. Since Arcadius' death, 
 Our late great master, the protection of 
 The prince, his son, the second Theodosius, 
 By a general vote and suffrage of the people, 
 Was to her charge assign'd, with the dis- 
 
 posure 
 
 Of his so many kingdoms. For his person,. 
 She hath so train'd him up in all those arts 
 That are both great and good, and to ber \ 
 
 wish'd 
 
 In an imperial monarch, that the mother 
 Of the Gracchi, grave Cornelia, Rome still 
 
 boasts of, 
 
 The wise Pulcheria but named, must be 
 No more remember'd. She, by her example, 
 Hath made the court a kind of academy, 
 In which true honour is both learn'd and 
 
 practised : 
 
 Her private lodgings a chaste nunnery, 
 In which her sisters, as probationers, hear 
 From her, their sovereign abbess, all the 
 
 precepts 
 
 Read in the school of virtue. 
 Cle. You amaze me. 
 Paul. I shall, ere I conclude ; for here the 
 
 wonder 
 
 Begins, not ends. Her soul is so immense, 
 And her strong faculties so apprehensive, 
 To search into the depth of deep designs, 
 And of all natures, that the burthen, which 
 To many men were insupportable, 
 To her is but a gentle exercise, 
 Made, by the frequent use, familiar to her.. 
 
3 22 
 
 THE EMPEROR Ot 1 THE EAST. 
 
 Clc. With your good favour, let me in- 
 
 terrupt you. 
 
 Being, as she is, in every part so perfect, 
 Methinks that all kings 'of our eastern world 
 Should become rivals for her. 
 
 Paul. So they have ; 
 j But to no purpose. She, that kno\vs her 
 
 strength 
 
 To rule and govern monarchs, scorns to wear 
 On her free neck the servile yoke of mar- 
 
 riage ; 
 
 And for one loose desire, envy itself 
 Dares not presume to taint her. Venus' son 
 Is blind indeed when he but gazes on her ; 
 Her chastity being a rock of diamonds, 
 With which encounter'd, his shafts fly in 
 
 splinters ; 
 
 His flaming iorches in the living spring 
 Of her perfections quench'd : and, to crown i 
 
 She's so impartial when she sits upon 
 The high tribunal, neither sway'd with pity, 
 Nor awed by fear, beyond her equal scale, 
 That 'tis not superstition to believe 
 Astrea once more lives upon the earth, 
 Pulcheria's breast her temple. 
 
 Cle. You have given her 
 An admirable character. 
 
 Paul. She deserves it : 
 And, such is the commanding power of 
 
 virtue, 
 
 That from her vicious enemies it compels 
 Paeans of praise, as a due tribute to her. 
 
 [Loud music. 
 
 Cle. What means this solemn music ? 
 
 Paul. Sir, it ushers 
 The emperor's morning meditation, 
 In which Pulcheria is more than assistant. 
 'Tis worth your observation, and you may 
 Collect from her expense of time this day, 
 -How her hours, for many years, have been 
 disposed of. 
 
 'Cle. I am all eyes and ears. 
 
 after a strain of solemn music, 
 Philanax, Timantus, Patriarch, Theo- 
 dosius, Pulcheria, Flaccilla, and Arcadia; 
 followed by Chrysapius and Gratianus ; 
 "Servants, and Officers. 
 
 PuL Your patience, sir. 
 Let those corrupted ministers of the court, 
 AVhich you complain of, our devotions 
 
 ended, 
 
 Be cited to appear : for the ambassadors 
 Who are importunate to have audience, 
 From me you may assure them, that to- 
 
 morrow 
 
 They shall in public kiss the emperor's robe, 
 And we in private, with our soonest leisure, 
 
 Will give them hearing. Have you especial j 
 
 care too, 
 
 That free access be granted unto all 
 Petitioners. The morning wears. Pray 
 
 you, on, sir ; 
 Time lost is ne'er recover'd. 
 
 {Exeunt all but Paulinus and Cleon. ' 
 
 Paul. Did you note 
 The majesty she appears in ? 
 
 Cle. Yes, my good lord ; 
 I was ravish'd with it. 
 
 Paul. And then, with what speed 
 She orders her dispatches, not one daring 
 To interpose ; the emperor himself, 
 Without reply, putting in act whatever 
 She pleased to impose upon him. 
 
 Cle. Yet there were some, 
 That in their sullen looks, rather confess 'd 
 A forced constraint to serve her, than a will 
 To be at her devotion ; what are they ? 
 
 Paul. Eunuchs of the emperor's cham- 
 ber, that repine 
 
 The globe and awful sceptre should give place 
 Unto the distaff ; for, as such, they whisper 
 A woman's government, but dare not yet 
 Express themselves. 
 
 Cle. From whence are the ambassadors 
 To whom she promised audience? 
 
 Paul. They are 
 
 Employ 'd by divers princes, who desire 
 Alliance with our emperor, whose years now, 
 As you see, write him man. One would 
 
 advance 
 
 A daughter to the honour of his bed ; 
 A second, his fair sister : to instruct you 
 In the particulars would ask longer time 
 Than my own designs give way to. I have 
 
 letters 
 
 From special friends of mine, that to my care 
 Commend a stranger virgin, whom this 
 
 morning 
 
 I purpose to present before the princess : 
 If you please, you may accompany me. 
 
 Cle. I'll wait on you. \Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE II. Another Room in the same. 
 Enter the Informer, -with Officers bringing 
 
 in //^Projector, the Minion of the Suburbs, 
 
 and the Master of the Habit and Manners. 
 
 Infor. Why should you droop, or hang 
 
 your working heads ? 
 
 No danger is meant to you ; pray bear up : 
 For aught I know, you are cited to receive 
 Preferment due to your merits. 
 
 Pro/. Very likely : 
 
 In all the projects I have read and practised, 
 I never found one man compell'd to come, 
 Belore the seat of justice, under guard, 
 To receive honour. 
 
THE EMPEROR OF THE EAST. 
 
 323 
 
 Infor. No ! it may be, you are 
 j The first example. Men of qualities, 
 ! As I have deliver'd you to the protectress, 
 ! Who knows how to advance them, cannot 
 conceive 
 
 A fitter place to have their virtues publish 'd, 
 
 Than in open court. Could you hope that 
 the princess, 
 
 Knowing your precious merits, will reward 
 them 
 
 In a private corner ? No ; you know not yet 
 
 How you may be exalted. 
 Min. To the gallows. 
 Itifor. Fie ! 
 
 Nor yet depress'd to the galleys ; in your 
 names 
 
 You carry no such crimes : your specious titles 
 
 Cannot but take her : President of the Pro- 
 jectors ! 
 
 What a noise it makes ! The Master of the 
 Habit ! 
 
 How proud would some one country be that 
 I know, 
 
 To be your first pupil ! Minion of the 
 Suburbs, 
 
 And now and then admitted to the court, 
 
 And honour 'd with the style of Squire of 
 Dames ! 
 
 What hurt is in it ! One thing I must tell you, 
 
 As I am the state-scout, you may think me 
 
 an informer. 
 
 J/tfj/. They are synonyma. 
 Infor. Conceal nothing from her 
 
 Of your good parts, 'twill be the better for you ; 
 
 Or if you should, it matters not ; she can 
 conjure, 
 
 And I am her ubiquitary spirit, 
 
 Bound to obey her : you have my instruc- 
 tions ; 
 
 Stand by, here's better company. 
 
 Enter Paulinus, Cleon, and. Athenais, -with 
 a petition. 
 
 A then. Can I hope, sir, 
 Oppressed innocence shall find protection 
 And justice among strangers, when my 
 
 brothers, 
 
 Brothers of one womb, by one sire begotten, 
 Trample on my afflictions ? 
 
 Paul. Forget them, 
 Remembering those may help you. 
 
 At/ten. They have robb'd me 
 Of all means to prefer my just complaint, 
 With any promising hope to gain a hearing, 
 Much less redress : petitions not sweetened 
 | With gold, are but unsavory, oft refused ; 
 j Or, if received, are pocketed, not read. 
 A suitor's swelling tears, by the glowing beams 
 
 Of choleric authority are dried up 
 Before they fall, or, if seen, never pitied. 
 What will become of a forsaken maid ! 
 My flattering hopes are too weak to encounter 
 With my strong enemy, despair, and 'tis 
 In vain to oppose her. 
 
 Cle. Cheer her up ; she faints, sir. 
 
 Paul. This argues weakness ; though , 
 
 your brothers were 
 
 Cruel beyond expression, and the judges 
 That sentenced you, corrupt, you shall find ; 
 
 here 
 
 One of your own fair sex to do you right ; 
 Whose beams of justice, like the sun, extend ' 
 Their light and heat to strangers, and are not ! 
 Municipal or confined. 
 
 Athen. Pray you, do not feed me 
 With airy hopes : unless you can assure me 
 The great Puicheria will descend to hear 
 My miserable story, it were better 
 I died without the trouble. 
 
 Paul. She is bound to it 
 By the surest chain, her natural inclination 
 To help the afflicted ; nor shall long delays, 
 More terrible to miserable suitors 
 Than quick denials, grieve you. Dry your | 
 
 fair eyes. 
 
 This room will instantly be sanctified 
 With her bless'd presence ; to her ready hand | 
 Present your grievances, and rest assured 
 You. shall depart contented. 
 
 Athen. You breathe in me 
 A second life. 
 
 Infor. Will your lordship please to hear \ 
 Your servant a few words ? 
 
 Paul. Away, you rascal ! 
 Did I ever keep such servants ? 
 
 Infor. If your honesty- 
 Would give you leave, it would be for your 
 profit. 
 
 Paul. To make use of an informer ! tell 
 
 me, in what 
 Can you advantage me ? 
 
 Infor. In the first tender 
 Of a fresh suit never begg'd yet. 
 
 Paul. What's your suit, sir ? 
 
 Infor. Tis feasible : here are three ar- 
 rant knaves 
 Discovered by my art. 
 
 Paul. And thou the archknave : 
 The great devour the less. 
 
 Infor. And with good reason ; 
 I must eat one a month, I cannot live else. 
 
 Paul. A notable cannibal ! but should I 
 
 hear thee, 
 In what do your knaves concern me ? 
 
 Infor. In the begging 
 Of their estates. 
 
 PauL Before they are condemn'd 
 
324 
 
 THE EMPEROR OF THE EAST. 
 
 Infor. Yes, or arraign'd : your lordship 
 
 may speak too late else. 
 They are your own, and I will be content 
 With the fifth part of a share. 
 Paul. Hence, rogue ! 
 Infor. Such rogues 
 
 In this kind will be heard and cherish "d too. 
 Fool that I was, to offer such a bargain 
 To a spiced-conscience chapman ! but I 
 
 care not ; 
 
 What he disdains to taste, others will swal- 
 low. 
 
 Loud Music. Enter Theodosius, Pulcheria, 
 Arcadia, Flaccilla, Patriarch, Philanax, 
 Timantus, Chrysapius, Gratianus, and 
 Attendants. 
 
 Cle. They are return'd from the temple. 
 
 Paul. See, she appears ; 
 What think you now ? 
 
 At/ten. A cunning painter thus, 
 Her veil ta'en off, and awful sword and 
 
 balance 
 Laid by, would picture Justice. 
 
 Pul. When you please, 
 You may intend those royal exercises 
 Suiting your birth and greatness : I will bear 
 The burthen of your cares, and, having 
 
 purged 
 
 The body of your empire of ill humours, 
 Upon my knees surrender it. 
 
 Chry. Will you ever 
 Be awed thus like a boy? 
 
 Grat. And kiss the rod 
 Of a proud mistress ? 
 
 Tim. Be what you were born, sir. 
 
 Phil. Obedience and majesty never lodged 
 In the same inn. 
 
 Theod. No more ; he never learn'd 
 The right way to command, that stopp'd his 
 
 ears 
 To wise directions. 
 
 Pul. Read o'er the papers 
 I left upon my cabinet, two hours hence 
 I will examine you. 
 
 Flac. We spend our time well ! 
 Nothing but praying and poring on a book. 
 It ill agrees with my constitution, sister. 
 
 Arcad. Would I had been born some 
 
 masquing-lady's woman, 
 Only to see strange sights, rather than live 
 thus! 
 
 Flac. We are gone, forsooth ; there is no 
 remedy, sister. 
 
 [Exeunt Arcadia and Flaccilla. 
 
 Grat. What hath his eye found out? 
 
 Tim. 'Tis fix'd upon 
 That stranger lady. 
 
 Chry. I am glad yet, that 
 He dares look on a woman. 
 
 [All this time the Informer is kneeling 
 to Pulcheria, and delivering papers. 
 
 Thco. Philanax, 
 What is that comely stranger ? 
 
 Phil. A petitioner. 
 
 Chry. Will you hear her case, and dis- 
 patch her in your chamber? 
 I'll undertake to bring her. 
 
 Theo. Bring me to 
 
 Some place where I may look on her de- 
 meanor : 
 'Tis a lovely creature ! 
 
 Chry. There's some hope in this yet. 
 {Flourish. Exeunt Theodosius, Pa- 
 triarch, Philanax, Timantus, Chrysa- 
 pius, and Gratianus. 
 
 Pul. No ; you have done your parts. 
 
 Paul. Now opportunity courts you, 
 Prefer your suit. 
 
 Athcn. [Kneeling.'] As low as misery 
 Can fall, for proof of my humility, 
 A poor distressed virgin bows her head, 
 And lays hold on your goodness, the last altar 
 Calamity can fly to for protection. 
 Great minds erect their never-falling trophies 
 On the firm base of mercy ; but to triumph 
 Over a suppliant, by proud fortune captived, 
 Argues a bastard conquest : 'tis to you 
 I speak, to you, the fair and just Pulcheria, 
 The wonder of the age, your sex's honour ; 
 And as such , deign to hear me. As you have 
 A soul moulded from heaven, and do desire 
 To have it made a star there, make the means 
 Of your ascent to that celestial height 
 Virtue, wing'd with brave action: they draw 
 
 near 
 
 The nature and the essence of the gods, 
 Who imitate their goodness. 
 
 Pul. If you were 
 
 A subject of the empire, which your habit 
 In every part denies 
 
 Athen. O, fly not to 
 Such an evasion ! whate'er I am, 
 Being a woman, in humanity 
 You are bound to right me. Though the 
 
 difference 
 
 Of my religion may seem to exclude me 
 From your defence, which you would have 
 
 confined ; 
 
 The moral virtue, which is general, 
 Must know no limits. By these blessed feet, 
 That pace the paths of equity, and tread boldly 
 On the stiff neck of tyrannous oppression, 
 By these tears by which I bathe them, I 
 
 conjure you 
 With pity to look on me ! 
 
 Pul. Pray you, rise ; 
 
THE EMPEROR OF THE EAST. 
 
 325 
 
 And, as you rise, receive this comfort from 
 
 me. 
 Beauty, set off with such sweet language, 
 
 never 
 
 Can want an advocate ; and you must bring 
 More than a guilty cause if you prevail not. 
 Some business, long since thought upon, 
 
 dispatch'd, 
 
 You shall have hearing, and, as far as justice 
 Will warrant me, my best aids. 
 
 A then. I do desire 
 
 No stronger guard ; my equity needs no 
 favour. [ Walks aside. 
 
 Pul. Are these the men ? 
 
 Proj. We were, an't like your highness, 
 The men, the men of eminence and mark, 
 And may continue so, if it please your grace. 
 
 Mast. This speech was well projected. 
 
 Pul. Does your conscience, 
 I will begin with you, whisper unto you 
 What here you stand accused of? Are you 
 
 named 
 The President of Projectors ? 
 
 Infor. Justify it, man, 
 And tell her in what thou'rt useful. 
 
 Proj. That is apparent ; 
 And if you please, ask some about the court, 
 And they will tell you, to my rare inventions 
 They owe their bravery, perhaps means to 
 
 purchase, 
 
 And cannot live without me. I, alas ! 
 Lend out my labouring brains to use, and 
 
 sometimes 
 For a drachma in the pound, the more the 
 
 pity 
 
 I am all patience, and endure the curses 
 Of many, for the profit of one patron. 
 
 Pul. I do conceive the rest. What is the 
 second? 
 
 Infor. The Minion of the Suburbs. 
 
 Pnl What hath he 
 To do in Constantinople ? 
 
 Min. I steal in now and then, 
 As I am thought useful ; marry, there I am 
 
 call'd 
 
 The Squire of Dames, or Servant of the Sex, 
 And by the allowance of some sportful ladies, 
 Honour 'd with that title. 
 
 Pul. Spare your character, 
 You are here decipher'd : stand by with your 
 
 compeer. 
 
 What is the third? a creature I ne'er heard of : 
 The Master of the Manners and the Habit ! 
 You have a double office. 
 
 Mast. In my actions 
 I make both good ; for by my theorems 
 Which your polite and terser gallants practise, 
 I re-refine the court, and civilize 
 Their barbarous natures. I have in a table, 
 
 With curious punctuality set down, 
 
 To a hair's breadth, how low a new-stamp'd 
 
 courtier 
 
 May vail to a country gentleman, and by 
 Gradation, to his merchant, mercer, draper, 
 His linen-man, and tailor. 
 
 Pul. Pray you, discover, 
 This hidden mystery. 
 
 Mast. If the foresaid courtier 
 (As it may chance sometimes) find not his 
 
 name 
 
 Writ in the citizens' books, with a state hum 
 He may salute them after three days wait- 
 ing; 
 
 But, if he owe them money, that he may 
 Preserve his credit, let him in policy never 
 Appoint a day of payment, so they may 
 
 hope still : 
 
 But, if he be to take up more, his page 
 May attend them at the gate, and usher them 
 Into his cellar, and when they are warm'd 
 
 with wine, 
 Conduct them to his bedchamber ; and 
 
 though then 
 He be under his barber's hands, as soon as 
 
 seen, 
 He must start up to embrace them, vail 
 
 thus low ; 
 Nay, though he call them cousins, 'tis the 
 
 better, 
 
 His dignity no way wrong'd in't. 
 Paul. Here's a fine knave ! 
 Pul. Does this rule hold without excep- 
 tion, sirrah, 
 For courtiers in general ? 
 
 Mast. No, dear madam, 
 For one of the last edition ; and for him 
 I have composed a dictionary, in which 
 He is instructed, how, when, and to whom, 
 To be proud or humble ; at what times of 
 
 the year 
 
 He may do a good deed for itself, and that is 
 Writ in dominical letters ; all days else 
 Are his own, and of those days the several 
 
 hours 
 Mark'd out, and to what use. 
 
 Pul. Shew us your method ; 
 I am strangely taken with it. 
 
 Mast. 'Twill deserve 
 A pension, I hope. First, a strong cullis 
 In his bed, to heighten appetite ; shuttle- 
 cock, 
 To keep him in breath when he rises; 
 
 tennis courts 
 Are chargeable, and the riding of great 
 
 horses 
 Too boisterous for my young courtier : let 
 
 the old ones 
 I think not of, use it ; next, his meditation 
 
326 
 
 THE EMPEROR OF THE EAST. 
 
 How to court his mistress, and that he may 
 
 seem witty, 
 
 Let him be furnish'd with confederate jests 
 Between him and his friend, that, on occa- 
 sion, 
 They may vent them mutually: what his 
 
 pace and garb 
 Must be in the presence, then the length of 
 
 his sword, 
 
 The fashion of the hilt what the blade is 
 It matters not, 'twere barbarism to use it. 
 Unless to shewhis strength upon an andiron ; 
 So, the sooner broke the better. 
 
 Pul. How I abuse 
 
 This precious time ! Projector, I treat first 
 Of you and your disciples ; you roar out, 
 All is the king's, his will above his laws ; 
 And that fit tributes are too gentle yokes 
 For his poor subjects : whispering in his ear, 
 If he would have their fear, no man should 
 
 dare 
 
 To bring a salad from his country garden. 
 Without the paying gabel ; kill a' hen, 
 Without excise : and that if he desire 
 To have his children or his servants w r ear 
 Their heads upon their shoulders, you affirm 
 In policy 'tis fit the owner should 
 Pay for "them by the poll ; or, if the prince 
 
 want 
 
 A present sum, he may command a city 
 Impossibilities, and for non-performance, 
 Compel it to submit to any fine 
 His officers shall impose. Is this the way 
 To make our emperor happy? can the groans 
 Of his subjects yield him music? must his 
 
 thresholds 
 Be wash 'd with widows and wrong'cl orphans' 
 
 tears, 
 Or his power grow contemptible ? 
 
 Proj. I begin 
 To feel myself a rogue again. 
 
 Put. But you* are 
 
 The squire of dames, devoted to the service 
 Of gamesome ladies, the hidden mystery 
 Discover 'd, their close bawd, thy slavish 
 
 breath 
 
 Fanning the fires of lust ; the go-between 
 This female and that wanton sir ; your art 
 Can blind a jealous husband, and, disguised 
 Like a milliner or shoemaker, convey 
 A letter in a pantofle or glove, 
 Without suspicion, nay, at his table, 
 In a case of picktooths ; you instruct them 
 
 how 
 To parley with their eyes, and make the 
 
 temple 
 
 A mart of looseness : to discover all 
 Your subtile brokages, were to teach in 
 
 public 
 
 Those private practices which are, in justice, 
 Severely to be punish 'd. 
 
 Min. I am cast : 
 A jury of my patronesses cannot quit me. 
 Put. You are master of the manners and 
 
 the habit ; 
 
 Rather the scorn of such as would live men, 
 And not, like apes, with servile imitation 
 Study prodigious fashions. You keep 
 Intelligence abroad, that may instruct 
 Our giddy youth at home what new-found 
 
 fashion 
 
 Is no\v in use, swearing he's most complete 
 That first turns monster. Know, villains, | 
 
 I can thrust 
 This arm into your hearts, strip off the flesh ; 
 That covers your deformities, and shew you 
 In your own nakedness. Now, though the : 
 
 law 
 
 Call not your follies death, you are for ever ' 
 Banish'd my brother's court. Away with [ 
 
 them ; 
 I will hear no reply. 
 
 \Exeunt Informer, and Officers with the 
 
 Projector, Minion of the Suburbs, and 
 
 Master of the Habit and Manners. 
 
 Athenais comes forward. 
 
 Enter above, Theodosius, Philanax, Timan- 
 tus, Chrysapius, and Gratianus. 
 
 Paul. What think you now ? 
 
 Cle. That I am in a dream ; or that I see 
 A second Pallas. 
 
 Pul. These removed, to you 
 I clear my brow. Speak without fear, sweet 
 
 maid, 
 
 Since, with a mild aspect, and ready ear^ 
 I sit prepared to hear you. 
 
 A then. Know, great princess, 
 My father, though a pagan, was admired 
 For his deep search into those hidden studies, 
 Whose knowledge is denied to common men : 
 The motion, with the divers operations 
 Of the superior bodies, by his long 
 And careful observation were made 
 Familiar to him ; all the secret virtues 
 Of plants and simples, and in what degree 
 They were useful to mankind, he could dis- 
 course of : 
 
 In a word, conceive him as a prophet honour 'd 
 In his own country. But being born a man, 
 It lay not in him to defer the hour 
 Of his approaching death, though long fore- 
 told : 
 
 In this so fatal hour he call'd before him 
 His two sons and myself, the dearest pledges 
 Lent him by nature, and with his right hand 
 Blessing our several heads, he thus began. 
 
 Chrv. Mark his attention. 
 
THE EMPEROR OF THE EAST. 
 
 327 
 
 Phil. Give me leave to mark too. 
 Athen. If I could leave my understanding 
 
 to you ' 
 
 It were superfluous to make division. 
 Of whatsoever ehe I can bequeath you: 
 But, to avoid contention I allot 
 An equal portion of mv possessions 
 To you, my sons; but unto thee, my daughter, 
 My joy, my darling, (pardon me, though I 
 Repeat his words,) if my prophetic soul, 
 Ready to take her flight, can truly guess at 
 Thy future fate, I leave the strange as- 
 surance 
 
 Of the greatness thou art born to, unto which 
 Thy brothers shall be proud to pay their 
 
 service : 
 Paul. And all men else, that honour 
 
 beauty. 
 Theo. Umph ! 
 Athen. Yet to prepare thccfor that certain 
 
 fortune, 
 And that I may from present wants defend 
 
 thee, 
 I leave ten thousand crcnvns : which said, 
 
 being call'd 
 
 To the fellowship of our deities, he expired, 
 And with him all remembrance of the charge 
 Concerning me, left by him to my brothers. 
 Pul. Did they detain your legacy ? 
 Athen. And still do. 
 His ashes were scarce quiet in his urn, 
 When, in derision of my future greatness, 
 They thrust me out of doors, denying me 
 One short night's harbour. 
 Pul. Weep not. 
 Athen. I desire, 
 
 By your persuasion, or commanding power, 
 The restitution of mine own ; or that, 
 To keep my frailty from temptation, 
 In your compassion of me, you would please, 
 I, as an handmaid, may be entertain'd 
 To do the meanest offices to all such 
 As are honour'd in your service. 
 
 Pul. Thou art welcome. 
 j What is thy name? 
 
 Athen. The forlorn Athenais. 
 Pul. The sweetness of thy innocence 
 strangely takes me. 
 
 [Takes her up and kisses her. 
 Forget thy brothers wrongs ; for I will be 
 In my care a mother, in my love a sister to 
 
 thee ; 
 And, were it possible thou couldst be won 
 
 To be of our belief 
 
 Paul. May it please your excellence, 
 That is an easy task ; I, though no scholar, 
 Dare undertake it ; clear truth cannot want 
 Rhetorical persuasions. 
 Pul. Tis a work, 
 
 My lord, will well become you. Break up 
 
 the court : 
 May your endeavours prosper ! 
 
 Paul. Come, my fair one ; 
 I hope, my convert. 
 
 Athen. Never : I will die 
 As I was born, 
 
 Paul. Better you ne'er had been. \Exeunf* 
 Phil. What does your majesty think of? 
 
 the maid's gone. 
 
 Theo. She's wondrous fair, and in her 
 
 speech appear'd 
 Pieces of scholarship. 
 
 Chry. Make use of her learning 
 And beauty together ; on my life she will be 
 
 proud 
 To be so converted. 
 
 Theo. From foul lust heaven guard me ! 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 SCENE I. A Room in the Palace. 
 Enter Philanax, Timantus, Chrysapius, 
 
 and Gratianus. 
 
 Phil. We only talk, when we should do, 
 Tim. I'll second you ; 
 Begin, and when you please. 
 Graf. Be constant in it. 
 Chry. That resolution which grows cold 
 
 to-day, 
 Will freeze to-morrow. 
 
 Graf. 'Slight ! I think she'll keep him 
 Her ward for ever, to herself engrossing 
 The disposition of all the favours 
 And bounties of the empire. 
 
 Chry. We, that, by 
 
 The nearness of our service to his person, 
 Should raise this man, or pull down that 
 
 .without 
 
 Her license hardly dare prefer a suit, 
 Or if \ye do, 'tis cross'd. 
 
 Phil. You are troubled for 
 Your proper ends ; my aims are high and 
 
 honest, 
 
 The wrong that's done to majesty I repine at : 
 I love the emperor, and 'tis my ambition 
 To have him know himself, and to that 
 
 purpose 
 I'll run the hazard of a check. 
 
 Grat. And I 
 The loss of my place. 
 
 Tim. I will not come behind, 
 Fall what can fall. 
 
 Chry. Let us put on sad aspects, 
 To draw him on ; charge home, we'll fetch 
 
 you off, 
 Or lie dead by you. 
 
328 
 
 THE EMPEROR OF THE EAST. 
 
 Enter Theodosius. 
 
 Theo. How's this? clouds in the chamber, 
 And the air clear abroad ! 
 
 Phil. When you, our sun, 
 Obscure your glorious beams, poor we that 
 
 borrow 
 
 -Our little light from you, cannot but suffer 
 A general eclipse. 
 
 Tim. Great sir, 'tis true ; 
 For, till you please to know and be yourself, 
 And freely dare dispose of what's your own, 
 Without a warrant, we are falling'meteors, 
 And not fix'd stars. 
 
 Chry. The pale-faced moon, that should 
 Govern the night, usurps the rule of day, 
 And still is at the full in spite of nature, 
 And will not know a change. 
 
 Theo. Speak you in riddles ? 
 I am no CEdipus, but your emperor, 
 \ And as such would be instructed. 
 
 Phil. Your command 
 
 \ .Shall be obey'd : till now, I never heard you 
 1 Speak like yourself ; and may that Power, by 
 
 which 
 
 ; You are so, strike me dead, if what I shall 
 : Deliver as a faithful subject to you, 
 I Hath root or growth from malice, or base 
 
 envy 
 Of your sister's greatness ! I could honour 
 
 in her 
 
 A power subordinate to yours ; but not, 
 As 'tis, predominant. 
 
 Tim. Is it fit that she, 
 In her birth your vassal, should command 
 
 the knees 
 
 Of such as should not bow but to yourself? 
 Graf. She with security walks upon the 
 
 heads 
 
 .Of the nobility ; the multitude, 
 As to a deity, offering sacrifice 
 For her grace and favour. 
 
 Chry. Her proud feet even wearied 
 With the kisses of petitioners. 
 
 Grat. While you, 
 
 To whom alone such reverence is proper, 
 Pass unregarded by. 
 
 Tim. You have not yet, 
 Been master of one hour of your whole life. 
 Chry. Your will and faculties kept in more 
 
 awe 
 Than she can do her own. 
 
 Phil. And as a bondman, 
 (O let my zeal find grace, and pardon from 
 
 you, 
 
 That I descend so low,) you are design 'd 
 To this or that employment, suiting well 
 A private man, I grant, but not a prince. 
 To be a perfect horseman, or to know 
 
 The words of the chase, or a fair man of 
 
 arms, 
 
 Or to be able to pierce to the depth, 
 Or write a comment on the obscurest poets, 
 I grant are ornaments ; but your main scope 
 Should be to govern men, to guard your 
 
 own, 
 If not enlarge your empire. 
 
 Chry. You are built up 
 By the curious hand of nature, to revive 
 The memory of Alexander, or by 
 A prosperous success in your brave actions, 
 To rival Caesar. 
 
 Tim. Rouse yourself, and let not 
 Your pleasures be a copy of her will. 
 
 Phil. Your pupilage is past, and manly 
 
 actions 
 Are now expected from you. 
 
 Grat. Do not lose 
 Your subjects' hearts. 
 
 Tim. What is't to have the means 
 To be magnificent, and not exercise 
 The boundless virtue ? 
 
 Grat. You confine yourself 
 To that which strict philosophy allows of, 
 As if you were a private man. 
 
 Tim. No pomp 
 
 Or glorious shows of royalty rendering it 
 Both loved and terrible. 
 
 Grat. 'Slight ! you live, as it 
 Begets some doubt', whether you have, or not, 
 The abilities of a man. 
 
 Chry. The firmament 
 Hath not more stars than there are several 
 
 beauties 
 Ambitious, at the height, to impart their 
 
 dear 
 And sweetest favours to you. 
 
 Grat. Yet you have not 
 Made choice of one, of all the sex, to serve 
 
 you, 
 In a physical way of courtship. 
 
 Theo. But that I would not 
 Begin the expression of my being a man, 
 In blood, or stain the first white robe I wear 
 Of absolute power, with a servile imitation 
 Of any tyrannous habit, my just anger 
 Prompts me to make you, in your sufferings, 
 
 feel, 
 And not in words to instruct you, that the 
 
 license 
 Of the loose and saucy language you now 
 
 practised 
 Hath forfeited your heads. 
 
 Grat. How's this ! 
 
 Phil. I know not 
 What the play may prove, but I assure you 
 
 that 
 I do not like the prologue. 
 
THE EMPEROR OF THE EAST. 
 
 329 
 
 Theo. O the miserable 
 Condition of a prince ; who, though he vary 
 More shapes than Proteus, in his mind and 
 
 manners 
 
 He cannot win an universal suffrage 
 From the many-headed monster, multitude ! 
 Like ^Esop's foolish frogs, they trample on 
 
 him 
 As a senseless block, if his government be 
 
 easy ; 
 
 And, if he prove a stork, they croak and rail 
 Against him as a tyrant. I will put off 
 That majesty, of which you think I have 
 Nor use nor feeling ; and in arguing with you, 
 Convince you with strong proofs of common 
 
 reason, 
 And not with absolute power, against which, 
 
 wretches, 
 
 You are not to dispute. Dare you, that are 
 My creatures, by my prodigal favours 
 
 fashion'd, 
 
 Presuming on the nearness of your service, 
 Set off with my familiar acceptance, 
 Condemn my obsequiousness to the wise 
 
 directions 
 
 Of an incomparable sister, whom all parts 
 Of our world, that are made happy in the 
 
 knowledge 
 
 Of her perfections, with wonder gaze on ? 
 And yet you, that were only born to eat 
 The blessings of our mother earth, that are 
 Distant but one degree from beasts, (since 
 
 slaves 
 
 Can claim no larger privilege,) that know 
 No further than your sensual appetites, 
 Or wanton lusts, have taught you, undertake 
 To give your sovereign laws to follow that 
 Your ignorance marks out to him ! 
 
 [ Walks by. 
 Graf. How were we 
 Abused in our opinion of his temper ! 
 Phil. We had forgot 'tis found in holy 
 
 writ, 
 That kings' hearts are inscrutable. 
 
 Tim. I ne'er read it ; 
 My study lies not that way. 
 
 Phil. By his looks, 
 The tempest still increases. 
 
 Theo. Am I grown 
 
 So stupid, in your judgments, that you dare, 
 With such security, offer violence 
 To sacred majesty ? will you not know 
 The lion is a lion, though he shew not 
 His rending paws, or fill the affrighted air 
 'With the thunder of his roarings ? You 
 
 bless'd saints, 
 
 How am I trenched on ! Is that temperance 
 So famous in your cited Alexander, 
 Or Roman Scipio, a crime in me ? 
 
 Cannot I be an emperor, unless 
 
 Your wives and daughters bow to my proud 
 
 lusts ? 
 And, 'cause I ravish not their fairest build- 
 
 . ings 
 
 And fruitful vineyards, or what is dearest, 
 From such as are my vassals, must you con- 
 clude 
 
 I do not know the awful power and strength 
 Of my prerogative ? Am I close-handed, 
 Because I scatter not among you that 
 I must not call mine own ? know you, court- 
 leeches, 
 
 A prince is never so magnificent 
 As when he's sparing to enrich a few 
 With the injuries of many. Could your 
 
 hopes 
 
 So grossly flatter you, as to believe 
 I was born and train'd up as an emperor, 
 
 only 
 
 In my indulgence to give sanctuary, 
 In their unjust proceedings, to the rapine 
 And avarice of my grooms? 
 Phil. In the true mirror 
 Of your perfections, at length we see 
 Our own deformities. 
 
 Tim. And not once daring 
 To look upon that majesty we now slight- 
 ed 
 
 Chry. With our faces thus glued to the 
 
 earth, we beg 
 Your gracious pardon. 
 
 Grat. Offering our necks 
 To be trod on, as a punishment for our late 
 Presumption, and a willing testimony 
 Of our subjection. 
 
 Theo. Deserve our mercy 
 In your better life hereafter ; you shall find, 
 Though, in my father's life, I held it mad- 
 ness 
 To usurp his power, and in my youth dis- 
 
 dain'd not 
 
 To learn from the instructions of my sister, 
 I'll make it good to all the world I am 
 An emperor ; and even this instant grasp 
 The sceptre, my rich stock of majesty 
 Entire, no scruple wasted. 
 
 Phil. If these tears 
 I drop proceed not from my joy to hear 
 
 this, 
 May my eyeballs follow them ! 
 
 Tim. I will shew myself, 
 By your sudden metamorphosis, transform'd 
 From what I was. 
 
 Grat. And ne'er presume to ask 
 What fits not you to give. 
 
 Theo. Move in that sphere, 
 And my light with full beams shall shine 
 upon you. 
 
330 
 
 THE EMPEROR OF THE EAST. 
 
 Forbear this slavish courtship, 'tis to me 
 In a kind idolatrous. 
 Phil. Your gracious sister. 
 
 Enter Pulcheria and Servant. 
 
 Pul. Has he converted her ? 
 
 Sen'. And, as such, will 
 Present her, when you please. 
 
 Pul. I am glad of it. 
 Command my dresser to adorn her with 
 The robes that I gave order for. 
 
 Setv. I shall. 
 
 Pul. And let those precious jewels T took 
 
 last 
 
 Out of my cabinet, if't be possible, 
 Give lustre to her beauties ; and, that done, 
 Command her to be near us. 
 
 Scrv. 'Tis a province 
 I willingly embrace. [Exit. 
 
 Pul. O my dear sir, 
 You have forgot your morning task, and 
 
 therefore, 
 "With a mother's love, I come to reprehend 
 
 you ; 
 But it shall be gently. 
 
 Theo. 'Twill become you, though 
 You said, with reverend duty. Know, here- 
 after, 
 
 If my mother lived in you, howe'er her son, 
 Like' you she were my subject. 
 
 Pul. How! 
 
 Theo. Put off 
 Amazement ; you will find it. Yet I'll hear 
 
 you 
 
 At distance, as a sister, but no longer 
 As a governess, I assure you. 
 
 Graf. This is put home. 
 
 Tim. Beyond our hopes. 
 
 Phil. She stands as if his words 
 Had powerful magic in them. 
 
 Theo. Will you have me 
 Your pupil ever ? the down on my chin 
 Confirms I am a man, a man of men, 
 The emperor, that knows his strength. 
 
 Pul. Heaven giant 
 You know it not too soon ! 
 
 Theo. Let it suffice 
 
 My wardship's out. If your design con- 
 cerns us 
 
 As a man, and not a boy, with our allowance 
 You may deliver it. 
 
 Pul. A strange alteration ! 
 But I will not contend. Be as you wish, sir, 
 Your own disposer ; uncompell'd I cancel 
 All bonds of my authority. {Kneels. 
 
 Theo. You in this 
 
 Pay your due homage, which perform'd, I 
 thus 
 
 Embrace you as a sister ; {Raises her.~\ no 
 
 way doubting 
 
 Your vigilance for my safety as my honour ; 
 And what you now come to impart, I rest 
 Most confident, points at one of them. 
 
 Pul. At both ; 
 
 And not alone the present, but the future 
 Tranquillity of your mind ; since in the 
 
 choice 
 
 Of her you are to heat with holy fires, 
 And make the consort of your royal bed, 
 The certain means of glorious succession, 
 With the true happiness of our human being, 
 Are wholly comprehended. 
 
 Theo. How! a wife? 
 Shall I become a votary to Hymen, 
 Before my youth hath sacrificed to Venus ? 
 'Tis something with the soonest : yet, to> 
 
 shew, 
 
 In things indifferent, I am not averse 
 To your wise counsels, let me first survey 
 Those beauties, that, in being a prince, I 
 
 know 
 
 Are rivals for me. You will not confine me 
 To your election ; I must see, dear sister, 
 W T ith mine own eyes. 
 
 Pul. 'Tis fit, sir. Yet, in this, 
 You may please to consider, absolute princes 
 Have, or should have, in policy, less free will 
 Than such as are their vassals : for, you 
 
 must, 
 
 As you are an emperor, in this high business 
 Weigh with due providence, with whom 
 
 alliance 
 
 May be most useful for the preservation 
 Or increase of your empire. 
 
 Theo. I approve not 
 Such compositions for our moral ends, 
 In what is in itself divine, nay, more, 
 Decreed in heaven. Yet, if our neighbour 
 
 princes, 
 
 Ambitious of such nearness, shall present 
 Their dearest pledges to me, (ever reserving 
 The caution of mine own content, ) I will not 
 Contemn their courteous offers. 
 Pul. Bring in the pictures. 
 
 [Two pictures brought in. 
 Theo. Must I then judge the substances 
 
 by the shadows? 
 
 The painters are most envious, if they want 
 Good colours for preferment : virtuous ladies 
 Love this way to be flattered, and accuse 
 The workman of detraction, if he add not 
 Some grace they cannot truly call their own. 
 Is't not so, Gratianus? you may challenge 
 Some interest in the science. 
 
 Graf. A pretender 
 
 | To the art, I truly honour, and subscribe 
 I To your majesty's opinion. 
 
THE EMPEROR OF THE EAST. 
 
 Theo. Let me see [Reads. 
 
 Cleanthe, daughter to the king of Epire, 
 ALtatis succ, the fourteenth : ripe enough, 
 And forward too, I assure you. Let me 
 
 examine 
 
 The symmetries. If statuaries could 
 By the foot of Hercules set down punctually 
 His whole dimensions, and the countenance 
 
 be 
 
 The index of the mind, this may instruct me, 
 With the aids of that I've read touching this 
 
 subject, 
 
 What she is inward. The colour of her hair, 
 If it be, as this does promise, pale and faint, 
 And not a glistering white ; her brow, so so ; 
 The circles of her sight, too much con- 
 tracted ; 
 
 Juno's fair cow-eyes by old Homer are 
 Commended to their merit : here's a sharp 
 
 frost, 
 In the tip of her nose, which, by the length, 
 
 assures me 
 
 Of storms at midnight, if I fail to pay her 
 The tribute she expects. I like her not : 
 W T hat is the other? 
 
 Chry. How hath he commenced 
 Doctor in this so sweet and secret art, 
 Without our knowledge? 
 
 Tim. Some of his forward pages 
 Have robbed us of the honour. 
 
 Phil. No such matter ; 
 He has the theory only, not the practic. 
 Theo. [reads .] Amasia, sister to the duke 
 
 of Athens; 
 
 Her age eighteen, descended lineally 
 from Theseus, as by her fedigree 
 Will be made apparent. Of his lusty kin- 
 dred, 
 And lose so much time ! 'tis strange ! as I 
 
 live, she hath 
 
 A philosophical aspect ; there is 
 More wit than beauty in her face ; and when 
 I court her, it must be in tropes, and figures, 
 Or she will cry, Absurd ! she will have 
 
 her elenchs 
 
 To cut off any fallacy I can hope 
 To put upon her, and expect I should 
 Ever conclude in syllogisms, and those true 
 
 ones 
 
 In parte et toto : or she'll tire me with 
 Her tedious elocutions in the praise of 
 The increase of geneiation, for which 
 Alone, the sport, in her morality, 
 Is good and lawful, and to be often practised 
 For fear of missing. Fie on't ! let the race 
 Of Theseus be match'd with Aristotle's : 
 I'll none of her. 
 
 Pul. You are curious in your choice, sir, 
 And hard to please ; yet, if that your consent 
 
 May give authority to it, I'll present you 
 With one, that, if her birth and fortunes 
 
 answer 
 
 The rarities of her body and her mind, 
 Detraction durst not tax her. 
 
 Theo. Let me see her, 
 Though wanting those additions, which we 
 
 can 
 
 Supply from our own store : it is in us 
 To make men rich and noble ; but to give 
 Legitimate shapes and virtues does belong 
 To the great Creator of them, to whose 
 
 bounties 
 
 Alone 'tis proper, and in this disdains 
 An emperor for his rival. 
 
 Pul. I applaud 
 
 This fit acknowledgment ; since princes then 
 Grow less than common men, when they 
 
 contend 
 With him, by whom they are so. 
 
 Enter Paulinus, Cleon, and Athenais, 
 richly habited. 
 
 Theo. I confess it. 
 
 Pul. Not to hold you in suspense, behold 
 
 the virgin, 
 
 Rich in her natural beauties, no way bor- 
 rowing 
 The adulterate aids of art. Peruse her 
 
 better ; 
 She's worth your serious view. 
 
 Phil. I am amazed too : 
 I never saw her equal. 
 
 Graf. How his eye 
 Is fix'd upon her ! 
 
 Tim. And, as she were a fort 
 He'd suddenly surprise, he measures her 
 From the bases to the battlements. 
 
 Chry. Ha ! now I view her better, 
 I know her ; 'tis the maid that not long since 
 Was a petitioner ; her bravery 
 So alters her, I had forgot her face. 
 
 Phil. So has the emperor. 
 
 Paul. She holds out yet, 
 And yields not to the assault. 
 
 Cle. She's strongly guarded 
 In her virgin blushes. 
 
 Paul. When you know, fair creature, 
 It is the emperor that honours you 
 With such a strict survey of your sweet parts, , j 
 In thankfulness you cannot but return 
 Due reverence for the favour. 
 
 A then. I was lost 
 
 In my astonishment at the glorious object, 
 And yet rest doubtful whether he expects, 
 Being more than man, my adoration, 
 Since sure there is divinity about him : 
 Or will rest satisfied, if my humble knees 
 In duty thus bow to -him. 
 
.332 
 
 THE EMPEROR OF THE EAST. 
 
 Theo. Ha! it speaks. 
 Put. She is no statue, sir. 
 Theo. Suppose her one, 
 ' And that she had nor organs, voice, nor heat, 
 j Most willingly I would resign my empire, 
 So it might.be to aftertimes recorded 
 That I was her Pygmalirm ; though, like 
 
 him, 
 I doted on my workmanship, without hope 
 
 too 
 
 Of having Cytherea so propitious 
 To my vows or sacrifice, in her compassion 
 To give it life or motion. 
 
 Pul. Pray you, be not rapt so, 
 Nor borrow from imaginary fiction 
 Impossible aids : she's flesh and blood, I 
 
 assure you ; 
 
 ; And if you please to honour her in the trial, 
 And be your own security, as you'll find 
 I fable not, she comes in a noble way 
 To be at your devotion. 
 Chry. 'Tis the maid 
 I offer'd to your highness ; her changed 
 
 shape 
 -Conceal'd her from you. 
 
 Theo. At the first I knew her, 
 And a second firebrand Cupid brings, to 
 
 kindle 
 
 My flames almost put out : I am too cold, 
 And play with opportunity. May I taste 
 
 then 
 The nectar of her lip? {Kisses her.'} I do 
 
 not give it 
 
 The praise it merits : antiquity is too poor 
 To help me with a simile to express her : 
 Let me drink often from this living spring, 
 To nourish new- invention. 
 
 Pul. Do not surfeit 
 In over-greedily devouring that 
 Which may without satiety feast you often. 
 From the moderation in receiving them, 
 i The choicest viands do continue pleasing 
 To the most curious palates. If you think her 
 Worth your embraces, and the sovereign title 
 
 Of the Grecian Empress 
 
 Theo. If ! how much you sin, 
 Only to doubt it ; the possession of her 
 Makes all that was before most precious to 
 
 me, 
 Common and cheap : in this you've shewn 
 
 yourself 
 
 .A provident protectress. I already 
 Grow weary of the absolute command 
 Of my so numerous subjects, and desire 
 No sovereignty but here, and write down 
 
 gladly 
 A period to my wishes. 
 
 Pul. Yet, before 
 It be too late, consider her condition ; 
 
 Her father was a pagan, she herself 
 A new-converted Christian. 
 
 Theo. Let me know 
 
 The man to whose religious means I owe 
 So great a debt. 
 
 Paul. You are advanced too high, sir, 
 To acknowledge a beholdingness ; 'tis dis- 
 charged, 
 
 And I beyond my hopes rewarded, if 
 My service please your majesty. 
 
 Theo. Take this pledge 
 Of our assured love. Are there none here 
 Have suits to prefer ! on such a day as this 
 My bounty's without limit. O my dear- 
 est ! 
 
 I will not hear thee speak ; whatever in 
 Thy thoughts is apprehended, I grant freely : 
 Thou wouldst plead thy unworthiness. By 
 
 thyself, 
 
 The magazine of felicity, in thy lowness 
 Our eastern queens, at their full height, bow 
 
 to thee, 
 And are, in their best trim, thy foils and 
 
 shadows ! 
 
 Excuse the violence of my love, which cannot 
 Admit the least delay. Command the pa- 
 triarch 
 
 With speed to do his holy office for us, 
 That, when we are made one 
 
 Pul. You must forbear, sir ; 
 She is not yet baptized. 
 
 Theo. In the same hour 
 In which she is confirmed in our faith, 
 We mutually will give away each other, 
 And both be gainers ; we'll hear no reply 
 That may divert us. On. 
 
 Pul. You may hereafter 
 Please to remember to whose furtherance 
 You owe this height of happiness. 
 
 A then. As I was 
 
 Your creature when I first petition 'd you, 
 I will continue so, and you shall find me, 
 Though an empress, still your servant. 
 
 [A II go off, but Philanax, Gratianus, 
 and Timantus. 
 
 Grat. Here's a marriage 
 Made up o' the sudden ! 
 
 Phil. I repine not at 
 The fair maid's fortune, though I fear the 
 
 princess 
 Had some peculiar end in't. 
 
 Tim. Who's so simple 
 Only to doubt it? 
 
 Grat. It is too apparent ; 
 She hath prcferr'd a creature of her own, 
 By whose means she may still keep to her- 
 self 
 The government of the empire. 
 
 Tim. Whereas, if 
 
THE EMPEROR OF THE EAST. 
 
 333 
 
 The emperor had espoused some neighbour 
 
 queen, 
 
 Pulcheria, with all her wisdom, could not 
 Keep her pre-eminence. 
 
 Phil. Be it as it will, 
 
 Tis not now to be alter'd. Heaven, I say, 
 Turn all to the best ! 
 
 Graf. Are we come to praying again ? 
 
 Phil. Leave thy profaneness. 
 
 Graf. Would it would leave me ! 
 I am sure I thrive not by it. 
 
 Tim. Come to the temple. 
 
 Graf. Even where you will I know not 
 what to think on't. \Exeunt. 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 SCENE I. A Room in the Palace. 
 
 Enter Paulinus and Philanax. 
 Paul. Nor this, nor the age before us, 
 
 ever look'd on 
 The like solemnity. 
 
 Phil. A sudden fever 
 Kept me at home. Pray you, my lord, 
 
 acquaint me 
 With the particulars. 
 
 Paul. You may presume 
 No pomp nor ceremony could be wanting, 
 Where there was privilege to command, and 
 
 means 
 To cherish rare inventions. 
 
 Phil. I believe it; 
 But the sum of ail in brief. 
 
 Paul. Pray you, so take it : 
 Fair Athenais, not long since a suitor, 
 And almost in her hopes forsaken, first 
 Was christen'd and the emperor's mother's 
 
 name, 
 
 Eudocia, as he will'd, imposed upon her : 
 Pulcheria, the ever-matchless princess, 
 Assisted by her reverend aunt Maria, 
 Her godmothers. 
 
 Phil. And who the masculine witness ? 
 Paul. At the new empress' suit, I had the 
 
 honour ; 
 For which I must ever serve her. 
 
 Phil. 'Twas a grace 
 With justice you may boast of. 
 
 Paul. The marriage follow'd ; 
 And, as 'tis said, the emperor made bold 
 To turn the day to night ; for to bed they 
 
 went 
 As soon as they had dined, and there are 
 
 wagers 
 
 Laid by some merry lords, he hath already 
 Begot a boy upon her. 
 
 Phil. That is yet 
 To be determined of ; but I am certain 
 
 A prince, so soon in his disposition alter'd, 
 Was never heard nor read of. 
 
 Paul. But of late, 
 Frugal and sparing, now nor bounds nor 
 
 limits 
 
 To his magnificent bounties. He affirm'd 
 Having received more blessings by his 
 
 empress 
 Than he could hope, in thankfulness to- 
 
 heaven 
 
 He cannot be too prodigal to others. 
 Whatever's offer'd to his royal hand, 
 He signs without perusing it. 
 
 Phil. I am here 
 
 Enjoin'd to free all such as lie for debt, 
 The creditors to be paid out of his coffers. 
 
 Paul. And I all malefactors that are not 
 Convicted or for treason or foul murder : 
 Such only are excepted. 
 
 Phil. 'Tis a rare clemency ! 
 
 PauL Which we must not dispute, but put- 
 in practice. \Exeunt* 
 
 SCENE II. Another Room in the same. 
 Loud Music ; Shouts within: Heaven pre- 
 serve the Emperor ! Heaven bless the 
 Empress ! Then enter in state, the Patri- 
 arch, Chrysapius, Paulinus, Theodosius, 
 Eudocia, Pulcheria ; Arcadia and Flac- 
 cilla, bearing ^lp Eudocia's train ; followed 
 by Philanax, Gratianus, and Timantus. 
 Several Suitors present petitions to the 
 Emperor, which he seals. 
 Pul. Sir, by your own rules of philosophy, 
 You know things violent last not. Royal 
 
 bounties ' 
 
 Are great and -gracious, while they are dis- 
 pensed 
 
 With moderation ; but, when their excess 
 In giving giant-bulks to others, takes from 
 The prince's just proportion, they lose 
 The name of virtues, and, their natures- 
 changed, 
 Grow the most dangerous vices. 
 
 Theo. In this, sister, 
 
 Your wisdom is not circular ; they that sow 
 In narrow bounds, cannot expect in reason 
 A crop beyond their ventures : what I do 
 Disperse, I lend, and will with usury 
 Return unto my heap. I only then 
 Am rich and happy (though my coffers sound ' 
 With emptiness) whe n my glad subjects feel 
 Their plenty and felicity is my gift ; 
 And they will find, when they with cheer- 
 fulness 
 
 Supply not my defects, I being the stomach 
 To the politic body of the state, the limbs 
 row suddenly faint and feeble : I could.. 
 
334 
 
 THE EMPEROR OF THE EAST. 
 
 Proofs of more fineness in their shape and 
 
 language, 
 But none of greater strength. Dissuade me 
 
 not ; 
 
 What we will, we will do ; yet, to assure you 
 Your care does not offend us, for an hour 
 Pie happy in the converse of my best 
 And dearest comfort. May you please to 
 
 license 
 My privacy some few minutes ? 
 
 End. License, sir ! 
 
 I have no will but is derived from yours, 
 And that still waits upon you ; nor can I 
 Be left with such security with any 
 As with the gracious princess, who receives 
 Addition, though she be all excellence, 
 In being styled your sister. 
 
 Thco. O sweet creature ! 
 Let me be censured fond, and too indulgent, 
 Nay, though they say uxorious, I care not : 
 Her love and sweet humility exact 
 A tribute far above my power to pay 
 Her matchless goodness. Forward. 
 
 \Flourish. Exeunt all but Pulcheria, 
 Eudocia, Arcadia, and Flaccilla. 
 
 Pul. Now you find 
 
 Your dying father's prophecy, that foretold 
 Your present greatness, to the full accom- 
 
 plish'd, 
 
 For the poor aids and furtherance I lent you, 
 I willingly forget. 
 
 End. Even that binds me 
 To a more strict remembrance of the favour ; 
 Nor shall you, from my foul ingratitude, 
 In any circumstance, ever find cause 
 To upbraid me with your benefit. 
 
 Pul. I believe so. 
 
 Pray you, give us leave : [Arcadia and 
 Flaccilla walk aside.'} What now I 
 must deliver 
 
 Under the deepest seal of secrecy, 
 Though it be for your good, will give assu- 
 rance 
 
 Of what is look'd for, if you not alone 
 Hear, but obey my counsels. 
 
 End. They must be 
 
 Of a strange nature, if with zealous speed 
 I put them not in practice. 
 
 Pul. 'Twere impertinence 
 To dwell on circumstances, since the wound 
 Requires a sudden cure ; especially 
 Since you, that are the happy instrument 
 Elected to it, though young, in your judg- 
 
 Become your wisdom, by which I am raised 
 To this titulary height, that should correct 
 The pride and overweening of my fortune, 
 To play the parasite to it, in ascribing 
 That merit to me, unto which I can 
 Pretend no interest : pray you, excuse 
 My bold simplicity, and to my weight 
 Design me where 'you please, 'and you shall 
 
 find, 
 
 In my obedience, I am still your creature. 
 Pul. 'Tis nobly answer'd, and I glory in 
 The building I have raised : go on, sweet 
 
 lady, 
 In this your virtuous progress : but to the 
 
 point. 
 
 You know, nor do I envy it, you have 
 Acquired that power which, not long since, 
 
 was mine, 
 
 In governing the emperor, and must use 
 The strength you hold in the heart of his 
 
 affections, 
 
 For his private, as the public preservation, 
 To which there is no greater enemy 
 Than his exorbitant prodigality, 
 Howe'er his sycophants and flatterers call it 
 Royal magnificence ; and though you may- 
 Urge what's done for your honour must 
 
 not be 
 
 Curb'd or controll'd by you, you cannot in 
 Your wisdom but conceive, if that the torrent 
 Of his violent bounties be not stopp'd or 
 
 lessen 'd, 
 It will prove most pernicious. Therefore, 
 
 madam, 
 
 Since 'tis your duty, as you are his wife, 
 To give him saving counsels, and in being 
 Almost his idol, may command him to 
 Take any shape you please, with a powerful 
 
 hand 
 
 To stop him in his precipice to ruin 
 
 End. Avert it, heaven ! 
 Pul. Heaven is most gracious to you, 
 In choosing you to be the instrument 
 Of such a pious work. You see he signs 
 What suit soever is preferr'd, not once 
 Enquiring what it is, yielding himself 
 A prey to all ; I would, therefore, have you, 
 
 lady, 
 
 As I know you will, to advise him, or com- 
 mand him, 
 
 As he would reap the plenty of your favours, j 
 To use more moderation in his bounties ; 
 And that, before he gives, he would consider j 
 
 ment The what, to whom, and wherefore. 
 
 Write far above your years, and may instruct End. Do you think 
 Such as are more experienced. Such arrogance, or ursurpation rather, 
 
 Eud. Good madam, Of what is proper and peculiar 
 
 In this I must oppose you ; I am well To every private husband, and much 
 
 Acquainted with my weakness, and it will not ; more 
 
THE EMPEROR OF THE EAST. 
 
 335 
 
 To him, an emperor, can rank with the 
 
 obedience 
 
 And duty of a wife ? Are we appointed 
 In our creation (let me reason with you) 
 To rule, cr to obey? or, 'cause he loves me 
 With a kind impotence, must I tyrannize 
 Over his weakness, or abuse the strength 
 With which he arms me, to his wrong ? or, 
 
 like 
 
 A prostituted creature, merchandize 
 ! Our mutual delight for hire, or to 
 ; Serve mine own sordid 'ends? In vulgar 
 
 nuptials 
 I Priority is exploded, though there be 
 
 A difference in the parties ; and shall I, 
 i His vassal, from obscurity raised by him 
 I To this so eminent light, presume t' appoint 
 
 him 
 To do, or not to do, this, or that? When 
 
 wives 
 
 ; Are well accommodated by their husbands, 
 With all things both for use and ornament, 
 j Let them fix there, and never dare to 
 
 question 
 
 Their wills or actions ; for myself, I vow, 
 Though now my lord would rashly give away 
 His sceptre and imperial diadem, 
 I Or if there could be anything more precious, 
 | I would not cross it : but I know this is 
 I But a trial of my temper, and as such 
 ! I do receive it ; or, if 't be otherwise, 
 ' You are so subtle in your arguments, 
 > I dare not stay to hear them. 
 
 {Offers to retire. 
 Pul. Is it even so ? 
 I have power o'er these yet, and command 
 
 their stay, 
 To harken nearer to me. 
 
 Arcad. We are charged 
 : By the emperor, our brother, to attend 
 \ The empress' service. 
 
 Flac. You are too mortified, sister, 
 I (With reverence I speak it,) for young ladies, 
 To keep you company. I am so tired 
 With your tedious exhortations, doctrines, 
 
 uses, 
 
 Of your religious morality, 
 That, for my health's sake, I must take the 
 
 freedom 
 
 To enjoy a little of those pretty pleasures 
 That I was born to. 
 
 Arcad. When I come to your years, 
 I'll do as you do ; but, till then, with your 
 
 pardon, 
 I'll lose no more time. I have not learn'd to 
 
 dance yet, 
 Nor sing, but holy hymns, and those to vile 
 
 tunes too ; 
 Nor to discourse, but of schoolmen's opinions. 
 
 How shall I answer my suitors, since, I hope, 
 Ere long I shall have many, without practice 
 To write, and speak, something that's not 
 
 derived 
 From the fathers of philosophy ? 
 
 Flac. We shall shame 
 Our breeding, sister, if we should go on thus. 
 
 Arcad. 'Tis for your credit that we study 
 How to converse with men ; women with 
 
 women 
 Yields but a barren argument. 
 
 Flac. She frowns 
 
 But you'll protect us, madam? 
 
 End. Yes, and love 
 Your sweet simplicity. 
 
 Arcad. All young girls are so, 
 Till they know the way of it. 
 
 Flac. But, when we are enter 'd, 
 We shall on a good round pace. 
 
 Eud. I'll leave you, madam. 
 
 Arcad. And we our duties with you. 
 
 [Exeunt Eudocia, Arcadia, and Flaccilla. 
 
 Pul. On all hands 
 Thus slighted ! no way left ? Am I grown 
 
 stupid 
 
 In my invention? can I make no use 
 Of the emperor's bounties ? Now 'tis 
 thought : within, there ! 
 
 Enter an Attendant. 
 
 Att. Madam. 
 
 Pul. It shall be so : nearer ; your ear. 
 Draw a petition to this end. 
 
 [ Whispers him. 
 
 Att. Besides 
 
 The danger to prefer it, I believe 
 'Twill ne'er be granted. 
 
 Pul. How's this ! are you grown, 
 From a servant, my director? let me hear 
 No more of this. Dispatch ; \Exit Atten- 
 dant.] I'll master him 
 At his own weapon. 
 
 Enter Theodosius, Paulinus, Philanax, 
 Timantus, and Gratianus. 
 
 Thco. Let me understand it, 
 If yet there be aught wanting that may 
 
 perfect 
 A general happiness. 
 
 Paul. The people's joys 
 In seas of acclamations flow in, 
 To wait on yours. 
 
 Phil. Their love, with bounty levied, 
 Is a sure guard : obedience iorced from fear, 
 Paper fortification, which, in danger, 
 Will yield to the impression of a reed, 
 Or of itself fall off. 
 
 Tlico. True, Philanax ; 
 
THE EMPEROR OF THE EAST. 
 
 And by that certain compass we resolve 
 To steer our bark of government. 
 Re-enter Attendant with the petition, -which 
 
 he secretly delivers to Pulcheria. 
 Pul. 'Tiswell. [Kneels. 
 
 Theo. My dearest and my all-deserving 
 
 sister 
 
 As a petitioner kneel ! It must not be. 
 Pray you, rise ; although your suit were half 
 
 my empire, 
 Tis freely granted. 
 
 Pul. Your alacrity 
 
 To give hath made a beggar ; yet, before 
 My suit is by your sacred hand and seal 
 Confirm'd, 'tis necessary you peruse 
 The sum of my request. 
 
 [Presents the petition. 
 Theo. We will not wrong 
 Your judgment in conceiving what 'tis fit 
 For you to ask, and us to grant, so much, 
 As to proceed with caution ; give me my 
 
 signet : 
 
 With confidence I sign it, and here vow 
 By my father's soul, but with your free consent, 
 It is irrevocable. 
 
 Tim. What if she now, 
 Calling to memory how often we 
 Have crossed her government, in revenge 
 
 hath made 
 Petition for our heads ? 
 
 Grat. They must even off then ; 
 No ransome can redeem us. 
 
 Theo. Let those jewels 
 So highly rated by the Persian merchants, 
 Be bought, and as a sacrifice from us, 
 Presented to Eudocia, she being only 
 Worthy to wear them. I am angry with 
 The unresistible necessity 
 Of my occasions and important cares, 
 That so long keep me from her. 
 
 [Exeunt Theodosius, Paulinus, Phi- 
 lanax, Timantus, and Gratianus. 
 Pul. Go to the empress, 
 And tell her, on the sudden I am sick, 
 And do desire the comfort of a visit, 
 If she please to vouchsafe it. From me use 
 Your humblest language [Exit Attendant.] 
 
 but, when once I have her 
 In my possession, I will rise and speak 
 In a higher strain : say it raise storms, no 
 
 matter ; 
 
 Fools judge by the event, my ends are 
 honest. [Exit. 
 
 SCENE III. Another Room in the same. 
 Enter Theodosius, Timantus, <z^Philanax. 
 Theo. What is become of her? Can she, 
 that carries 
 
 Such glorious excellence of light about her, 
 Be any where conceal'd ? 
 
 Phil. We have sought her lodgings, 
 And all we can learn from the servants, is^ 
 She, by your majesty's sisters waited on, 
 The attendance of her other officers, 
 By her express command, denied 
 
 Theo. Forbear 
 
 Impertinent circumstances, whither went 
 she ? speak. 
 
 Phil. As they guess, to the laurel grove. 
 
 Theo. So slightly guarded ! 
 What an earthquake I feel in me ! and, but 
 
 that 
 
 Religion assures the contrary, 
 The poets' dreams of lustful fauns and satyrs- 
 Would make me fear I know not what. 
 
 Enter Paulinus. 
 
 Paul. I have found her, 
 An it please your majesty. 
 
 Theo. Yes, it doth please me : 
 But why return'd without her? 
 
 Paul. As she made 
 
 Her speediest approaches to your presence,. 
 A servant of the princess's, Pulcheria, 
 Encounter'd her : what 'twas he whisper'd 
 
 to her 
 
 I am ignorant ; but hearing it, she started, 
 And will'd me to excuse her absence from you 
 The third part of an hour. 
 
 Theo. In this she takes 
 So much of my life from me : yet, I'll bear it 
 With what patience I may, since 'tis her 
 
 pleasure. 
 
 Go back, my good Paulinus, and entreat her 
 Not to exceed a minute. 
 
 Tim. Here's strange fondness ! [Exeunt, 
 
 SCENE IV. Another Room in the same. 
 Enter Pulcheria and Servants. 
 
 Pul. You are certain she will come ? 
 
 i Serv. She is already 
 Enter'd your outward lodgings. 
 
 Pul. No train with her ? 
 
 i Serv. Your excellence' sisters only. 
 
 Pul. 'Tis the better. 
 
 See the doors strongly guarded, and deny 
 Access to all, but with our special license : 
 Why dost thou stay? shew your obedience,, 
 Your wisdom now is useless. 
 
 [Exeunt Servants, 
 
 Enter Eudocia, Arcadia, and Flaccilla. 
 
 Flac. She is sick, sure, 
 Or, in fit reverence to your majesty, 
 She had waited you at the door. 
 
 A read. 'Twould hardly be 
 
 [Pulcheria walking by. 
 
THE EMPEROR OF THE EAST. 
 
 :37 
 
 Excused, in civil manners, to her equal : 
 But with more difficulty to you, that are 
 So far above her. 
 
 End. Not in her opinion ; 
 She hath been too long accustom'd to com- 
 mand, 
 To acknowledge a superior. 
 
 Arcad. There she walks. 
 
 Flac. If she be not sick of the sullens, I 
 
 see not 
 The least infirmity in her. 
 
 Eud. This is strange ! 
 
 Arcad. Open your eyes ; the empress. 
 
 Pul. Reach that chair : 
 Now, sitting thus at distance, I'll vouchsafe 
 To look upon her. 
 
 Arcad. How, sister! pray you, awake; 
 Are you in your wits ? 
 
 Flac. Grant, heaven, your too much 
 
 learning 
 Does not conclude in madness ! 
 
 End. You entreated 
 A visit from me. 
 
 Pul. True, my servant used 
 Such language ; but now, as a mistress, I 
 Command your service. 
 
 Eud. Service ! 
 
 Arcad. She's stark mad, sure. 
 
 Pul. You'll find I can dispose of what's 
 
 mine own, 
 Without a guardian. 
 
 Eud. Follow me. I will see you 
 When your frantic fit is o'er. I do begin 
 To be of your belief. 
 
 Pul. It will deceive you. 
 Thou shalt not stir from hence: thus, as 
 
 mine own, 
 I seize upon thee. 
 
 Flac. Help, help ! violence 
 Offer'd to the empress' person ! 
 
 Pul. 'Tis in vain : 
 
 She was an empress once, but, by my gift ; 
 Which being abused, I do recall my grant. 
 You are read in story ; call to your remem- 
 brance 
 
 What the great Hector's mother, Hecuba, 
 Was to Ulysses, Ilium sack'd. 
 
 Eud. A slave. 
 
 Pul. To me thou art so. 
 
 Eud. Wonder and amazement 
 Quite overwhelm me : how am I transform'd ? 
 How have I lost my liberty ? 
 
 [Knocking within. 
 
 Pul. Thou shalt know 
 Too soon, no doubt. 
 
 Enter a Servant. 
 
 Who's that, that with such rudeness 
 Beats at the door? 
 
 Serv. The prince Paulinus, madam ; 
 Senc from the emperor, to attend upon 
 The gracious empress. 
 Arcad. And who is your slave now ? 
 Flac. Sister, repent in time, and beg a 
 
 pardon 
 
 For your presumption. 
 Pul. It is resolved : 
 
 From me return this answer to Paulinus, 
 She shall not come ; she's mine ; the emperor 
 
 hath 
 No interest in her. [Exit Servant, j 
 
 Eud. Whatsoe'er I am, 
 You take not from your power o'er me, to 
 
 yield 
 A reason for this usage. 
 
 Pul. Though my will is 
 Sufficient, to add to thy affliction, 
 Know, wretched thing, 'tis not thy fate, but 
 
 folly, 
 Hath made thee what thou art : 'tis some 
 
 delight 
 
 To urge my merits to one so ungrateful ; 
 Therefore with horror hear it. When thou 
 
 wert 
 Thrust, as a stranger, from thy father's 
 
 house, 
 
 Exposed to all calamities that want 
 Could throw upon thee, thine own brothers' 
 
 scorn, 
 
 And in thy hopes, as by the world, for- 
 saken, 
 
 My pity the last altar that was left thee, 
 I heard thy syren charms, with feeling heard 
 
 them, 
 And my compassion made mine eyes vie 
 
 tears 
 With thine, dissembling crocodile ! and 
 
 when queens 
 Were emulous for thy imperial bed, 
 The garments of thy sorrows cast aside, 
 I put thee in a shape as would have forced 
 Envy from Cleopatra, had she seen thee. 
 Then, when I knew my brother's blood was 
 
 warm'd 
 With youthful fires, I brought thee to his 
 
 presence ; 
 And how my deep designs, for thy good 
 
 plotted, 
 
 Succeeded to my wishes, is apparent, 
 And needs no repetition. 
 Eud. I am conscious 
 Of your so many and unequall'd favours ; 
 But find not how I may accuse myself 
 For any facts committed, that, with justice, 
 Can raise your anger to this height against 
 
 me. 
 Pul. Pride and forgetfulness would not 
 
 let thee see that, 
 
 z. 
 
THE EMPEROR OF THE EAST. 
 
 Against which now thou canst not close thy 
 
 eyes. 
 
 What injury could be equal to thy late 
 Contempt of my good counsel? When I 
 
 urged 
 
 The emperor's prodigal bounties, and en- 
 treated 
 That you would use your power to give them 
 
 limits, 
 
 Or, at the least, a due consideration 
 Of such as sued, and for what, ere he 
 
 sign'd it ; 
 
 In opposition, you brought against me 
 The obedience of a wife, that ladies were not, 
 Being well accommodated by their lords, 
 To question, but much less to cross, their 
 
 pleasures ; 
 Nor would you, though the emperor were 
 
 resolved 
 
 To give away his sceptre, hinder it, 
 Since 'twas done for your honour ; covering, 
 
 with 
 
 False colours of humility, your ambition, 
 End. And is this my offence ? 
 Pul. As wicked counsel 
 Is still most hurtful unto those that give it ; 
 Such as deny to follow what is good, 
 In reason, are the first that must repent it. 
 When I please, you shall hear more ; in the 
 
 mean time, 
 Thank your own wilful folly, that hath 
 
 changed you 
 
 From an empress to a bondwoman. 
 Thco. \within. ~\ Force the doors ; 
 Kill those that dare resist. 
 
 Enter Theodosius, Paulinus, Philanax, 
 Chrysapius, and Gratianus. 
 
 End. Dear sir, redeem me. 
 
 Flac. O suffer not, for your own honour's 
 
 sake, 
 
 The empress, you so late loved, to be made 
 A prisoner in the court. 
 
 Arcad. Leap to his lips, 
 You'll find them the best sanctuary. 
 
 Flac. And try then, 
 What interest my reverend sister hath 
 To force you from them. 
 
 Theo. What strange May-game's this ? 
 Though done in sport, how ill this levity 
 Becomes your wisdom ? 
 
 Pul. I am serious, sir, 
 And have done nothing but what you in 
 
 honour, 
 
 And as you are yourself an emperor, 
 Stand bound to justify. 
 
 Thco. Take heed ; put not these 
 Strange trials on my patience. 
 
 Pul. Do not you, sir, 
 
 Deny your own act : As you are a man, 
 And stand on your own bottom, 'twill appear 
 A childish weakness to make void a grant 
 Sign'd by your sacred hand and seal, and 
 
 strengthen'd 
 With a religious oath, but with my license 
 Never to be recall'd. For some few minutes 
 Let reason rule your passion, and in this 
 
 {Delivers the deed. 
 Be pleased to read my interest : you will find 
 
 there, 
 
 What you in me call violence, is justice, 
 And that I may make use of what's my own, 
 According to my will. 'Tis your own gift, 
 
 sir; 
 And what an emperor gives, should stand 
 
 as firm 
 
 As the celestial poles upon the shoulders 
 Of Atlas, or his successor in that office, 
 The great Alcides. 
 
 Theo, Miseries of more weight 
 Than 'tis feign'd they supported, fall upon 
 
 me. 
 
 What hath my rashness done ! In this trans- 
 action, 
 
 Drawn in express and formal terms, I have 
 Given and consign'd into your hands, to use 
 And observe as you please, my dear Eu- 
 
 docia ! 
 
 It is my deed, I do confess it is, 
 And, as I am myself, not to be cancell'd : 
 But yet you may shew mercy and you will, 
 When you consider that there is no beauty 
 So perfect in a creature, but is soil'd 
 With some unbeseeming blemish. You have 
 
 labour'd 
 To build me up a complete prince, 'tis 
 
 granted ; 
 
 Yet, as I am a man, like other monarchs 
 I have defects and frailties : my facility 
 To send petitioners with pleased looks from 
 
 me, 
 
 Is all I can be charged with ; and it will 
 Become your wisdom, (since 'tis in your 
 
 power,) 
 
 In charity to provide I fall no further 
 Or in my oath, or honour. 
 
 Pul. Royal sir, 
 
 This was the mark I aim'd at, and I glory 
 At the length, you so conceive it : 'twas' a 
 
 weakness 
 
 To measure, by your own integrity, 
 The purposes of others. I have shewn you, 
 In a true mirror, what fruit grows upon 
 The tree of hoodwink'd bounty, and what 
 
 dangers 
 
 Precipitation, in the managing 
 Your great affairs, produceth. 
 Theo, I embrace it 
 
THE EMPEROR OF THE EAST. 
 
 339 
 
 As a grave advertisement, and vow hereafter 
 Never to sign petitions at this rate. 
 
 Pul. For mine, see, sir, 'tis cancell'd ; 
 
 on my knees 
 I re-deliver what I now begg'd from you. 
 
 [Tears the deed. 
 \ She is my second gift. 
 
 Theo. Which if I part from 
 Till death divorce us {Kisses Eudocia. 
 
 End. So, sir ! 
 
 Theo. Nay, sweet, chide not, 
 I am punish 'd in thy looks ; defer the rest, 
 Till we are more private. 
 
 Pul. I ask pardon too, 
 If, in my personated passion, I 
 Appear'd too harsh and rough. 
 
 End. 'Twas gentle language, 
 What I was then consider'd. 
 
 Pul. O, dear madam, 
 It was decorum in the scene. 
 
 End. This trial, 
 
 When I was Athenais, might have pass'd, 
 But as I am the empress 
 
 Theo. Nay, no anger, 
 Since all good was intended. 
 
 [.E.*-#7^Theodosius, Eudocia, Arcadia, 
 and Flaccilla. 
 
 Pul. Building on 
 
 That certain base, I fear not what can follow. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Paul. These are strange devices, Philanax. 
 
 Phil. True, my lord. 
 May all turn to the best ! 
 
 Graf. The emperor's looks 
 Promised a calm. 
 
 Chry. But the vex'd empress' frowns 
 Presaged a second storm. 
 
 Paul. I am sure I feel one 
 In my leg already. 
 
 Phil. Your old friend, the gout ? 
 
 Paul. My forced companion, Philanax. 
 
 Chry. To your rest. 
 
 Paul. Rest, and forbearing wine, with a 
 
 temperate diet, 
 Thoughmany mountebanks pretend the cure 
 
 I have found my best physicians. 
 Phil. Ease to your lordship. [Exeunt. 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 SCENE \.A Room in the Palace. 
 ' Enter Eudocia and Chrysapius. 
 
 End. Make me her property ! 
 Chry. Your majesty 
 
 Hath just cause of distaste ; and your re- 
 sentment 
 
 Of the affront, in the point of honour, cannot 
 But meet a fair construction. 
 
 End. I have only 
 
 The title of an empress, but the power 
 Is by her ravish'd from me : she surveys 
 My actions as a governess, and calls 
 My not observing all that she directs, 
 Folly and disobedience. 
 
 Chry. Under correction, 
 With grief I've long observed it ; and, if you 
 Stand pleased to sign my warrant, I'll deliver, 
 In my unfeign'd zeal and desire to serve you, 
 (Howe'er I run the hazard of my head for't, 
 Should it arrive at the knowledge of the 
 
 princess,) 
 Not alone the reasons why things are thus 
 
 carried, 
 
 But give into your hands the power to clip 
 The wings of her command. 
 
 Eud. Your service this way 
 Cannot offend me. 
 
 Chry. Be you pleased to know, then, 
 But still with pardon, if I am too bold. 
 Your too much sufferance imps the broken 
 
 feathers 
 Which carry her to this proud height, in 
 
 which 
 She with security soars, and still towers o'er 
 
 you : 
 But if you would employ the strengths you 
 
 hold 
 
 In the emperor's affections, and remember 
 The orb you move in should admit no star 
 
 else, 
 
 You never would confess the managing 
 Of state affairs to her alone are proper, 
 And you sit by, a looker on. 
 
 Eud. I would not, 
 If it were possible I could attempt 
 Her diminution, without a taint 
 Of foul ingratitude in myself. 
 
 Chry. In this 
 The sweetness of your temper does abuse 
 
 you ; 
 
 And you call that a benefit to yourself, 
 Which she, for her own ends, conferr'd 
 
 upon you. 
 
 'Tis yielded, she gave way to your advance- 
 ment : 
 But for what cause? that she might still 
 
 continue 
 Her absolute sway and swing o'er the whole 
 
 state : 
 
 And that she might to her admirers vaunt, 
 The empress was her creature, and the giver 
 To be preferr'd before the gift. 
 Eud. It may be. 
 Chry. Nay, 'tis most certain : whereas 
 
 would you please 
 
 Z2 
 
THE EMPEROR OF* THE EAST. 
 
 In a true glass to look upon yourself, 
 
 And view, without detraction, your own 
 
 merits, 
 Which all men wonder at, you would find 
 
 that fate, 
 
 Without a second cause, appointed you 
 To the supremest honour. For the princess, 
 She hath reign'd long enough, and her 
 
 remove 
 
 Will make your entrance free to the posses- 
 sion 
 Of what you were born to ; and, but once 
 
 - resolve 
 
 To build upon her ruins, leave the engines 
 That must be used to undermine her great- 
 ness 
 To my provision. 
 
 End. I thank your care : 
 But a design of such weight must not be 
 Rashly determined of ; it will exact 
 A long and serious consultation from me. 
 In the meantime, Chrysapius, rest assured 
 I live your thankful mistress. \Exit. 
 
 Chry. Is this all? 
 Will the physic that I minister' d work no 
 
 further ? 
 I have play'd the fool ; and, leaving a calm 
 
 port, 
 
 JEmbark'd myself on a rough sea of danger, 
 in her silence lies my safety, which how 
 
 can I 
 
 Hope from a woman ? but the die is thrown, 
 And I must stand the hazard. {Exit. 
 
 SCENE II. A Space before the Palace. 
 
 Enter Theodosius, Philanax, Timantus, 
 Gratianus, and Huntsmen. 
 
 Theo. Is Paulinus 
 So tortured with his gout ? 
 
 Phil. Most miserably. 
 And it adds much to his affliction, that 
 The pain denies him power to wait upon 
 Your majesty. 
 
 Tkeo. I pity him : he is 
 A wondrous honest man, and what he 
 
 suffers, 
 I know, will grieve my empress. 
 
 Tim. He, indeed, is 
 Much bound to her gracious favour. 
 
 Theo. He deserves it ; 
 She cannot find a subject upon whom 
 She better may confer it. Is the stag 
 afe lodged? * 
 
 Graf. Yes, sir, and the hounds and hunts- 
 men ready. 
 
 Phil. He will make you royal sport. He 
 
 is a deer 
 Of ten, at the least. 
 
 Enter a Countryman with an apple. 
 
 Graf. Whither will this clown ? 
 
 Tim. Stand back. 
 
 Countr. I would zee the emperor ; why 
 
 should you courtiers 
 Scorn a poor countryman ? we zweat at the 
 
 plough 
 To vill your mouths, you and your curs 
 
 might starve else : 
 We prune the orchards, and you cranch the : 
 
 fruit; 
 
 Yet still you're snarling at us. 
 Theo. What's the matter? 
 Countr. I would look on thy zweet face, j 
 Tim. Unmannerly swain ! 
 Countr. Zwain ! though I am a zwain, I ! 
 
 have a heart yet, 
 
 As ready to do service for my liege, 
 As any princox peacock of you all. 
 Zookers ! had I one of you zingle, with this 
 
 twig 
 I would soo veeze you. 
 
 Tim. Will your'majesty 
 Hear his rude language ? 
 
 Theo. Yes, and hold it as 
 An ornament, not a blemish. O, Timantus, 
 Since that dread Power by whom we are, 
 
 disdains not 
 
 With an open ear to hear petitions from us ; j 
 Easy access in us, his deputies, 
 To the meanest of our subjects, is a debt 
 Which we stand bound to pay. 
 
 Countr. By my granam's ghost 
 'Tis a holesome zaying ! our vicar could not 
 
 mend it 
 
 In the pulpit on a Zunday. 
 Theo. What's thy suit.'friend ? 
 Countr. Zute ! 1 would laugh at that. Let 
 
 the court beg from thee, 
 What the poor country gives : I bring a 
 
 present 
 To thy good grace, which I can call mine 
 
 own, 
 
 And look not, like these gay volk, fona return 
 Of what they venture. Have I giv'n't you ? 
 
 ha! 
 
 Chry. A perilous knave. 
 Countr. Zee here a dainty apple, 
 
 [Presents the apple. 
 Of mine own grafting ; zweet and zound, I 
 
 assure thee. 
 
 Theo. It is the fairest fruit I ever saw. 
 Those golden apples in the Hesperian or- 
 chards, 
 
 So strangely guarded by the watchful dragon 
 As they required great Hercules to get them ; 
 Or those with w r hich Hippomenes deceived 
 Swift-footed Atalanta, when I look 
 
 I 
 
THE EMPEROR OF THE EAST. 
 
 On this, deserve no wonder. You behold 
 The poor man and his present with con- 
 tempt ; 
 
 I to their value prize both : he that could 
 So aid weak nature by his care and labour, 
 As to compel a crab-tree stock to bear 
 A precious fruit of this large size and beauty, 
 Would by his industry change a petty village 
 Into a populous city, and from that 
 Erect a flourishing kingdom. Give the 
 
 fellow, 
 
 For an encouragement to his future labours, 
 Ten Attic talents. 
 
 Countr. I will weary heaven 
 With my prayers for your majesty. [Exit. 
 
 Theo. Philanax, 
 
 From me present this rarity to the rarest 
 And best of women : when I think upon 
 The boundless happiness that from her flows 
 
 to me, 
 
 In my imagination I am rapt 
 Beyond myself : but I forget our hunting. 
 To the forest, for the exercise of my body ; 
 But for my mind, 'tis wholly taken up 
 In the contemplation of her matchless 
 virtues. {Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE III. A Room in the Palace. 
 
 Enter Eudocia, Pulcheria, Arcadia, and 
 Flaccilla. 
 
 Etid. You shall know there's a difference 
 
 between us. 
 PuL There was, I am certain, not long 
 
 since, when you 
 Kneel'd a petitioner to me ; then you were 
 
 happy 
 
 To be near my feet ; and do you hold it now, 
 As a disparagement, that I side you, lady ? 
 Eud. Since you respect me only as I was, 
 What I am shall be remember 'd. 
 
 PuL Does the means 
 
 I practised, to give good and saving counsels 
 To the emperor, and your new-stamp'd 
 
 majesty, 
 Still stick in your stomach ? 
 
 Eud. 'Tis not yet digested, 
 In troth it is not. Why, good governess, 
 Though you are held for a grand madam, 
 
 and yourself 
 
 The first that overprize it, I ne'er took 
 Your words for Delphian oracles, nor your 
 
 actions 
 For such wonders as you make them : there 
 
 is one, 
 
 When she shall see her time, as fit and able 
 To be made partner of the emperor's cares, 
 As your wise self, and may with justice 
 
 challenge 
 
 A nearer interest. You have done your visit, 
 So, when you please, you may leave me. 
 
 Pul. I'll not bandy 
 Words with your mightiness, proud one 
 
 only this, 
 
 You carry too much sail for your small bark, 
 
 And that, when you least think upon't, may 
 
 sink you. {Exii. 
 
 Flac. I am glad she's gone. 
 
 Arcad. I fear'd she would have read 
 A tedious lecture to us. 
 
 Enter Philanax with the apple. 
 
 Phil. From the emperor, 
 This rare fruit to the rarest. 
 Eud. How, my lord ! 
 Phil. I use his language, madam =; and 
 
 that trust, 
 Which he imposed on me, discharged, his 
 
 pleasure 
 Commands my present service. \Exit. 
 
 Eud. Have you seen 
 So fair an apple ! 
 Flac. Never. 
 Arcad. If the taste 
 Answer the beauty. 
 
 Eud. Prettily begg'd : you should have it,- 
 But that you eat too much cold fruit, and 
 
 that 
 
 Changes the fresh red in your cheeks to pale- 
 ness. 
 
 Enter a Servant. 
 
 I have other dainties for you : You come 
 
 from 
 
 Paulinus ; how is't with that truly noble, 
 And honest lord, my witness at the fount, 
 In a word, the man to whose bless'd charity 
 I owe my greatness? How is't with him? 
 
 Serv. Sprightly 
 
 In his mind ; but, by the raging of his gout, 
 In his body much distemper'd ; that yoif 
 
 pleased 
 To inquire his health, took off much from 
 
 his pain, 
 His glad looks did confirm it. 
 
 Eud. Do his doctors 
 Give him no hope ? 
 
 Serv. Little; they rather fear 
 By his continual burning, that he stands 
 In danger of a fever. 
 
 Eud. To him again, 
 And tell him that I heartily wish it lay 
 In me to ease him ; and from me deliver 
 This choice fruit to him ; you may say to that, 
 I hope it will prove physical. 
 
 Serv. The good lord 
 Will be o'erjoyed with the favour. 
 
 Eud. He deserves more. \Excitnt. 
 
342 
 
 THE EMPEROR OF THE EAST. 
 
 SCENE IV. A Room in Paulinus' House. 
 
 Pauiinus discovered in a Chair, attended by 
 a Surgeon. 
 
 Surg. I have done as much as art can do, 
 
 to stop 
 The violent course of your fit, and I hope 
 
 you feel it : 
 How does your honour ? 
 
 Paul. At some ease, I thank you ; 
 I would you could assure continuance of it, 
 For the moiety of my fortune. 
 
 Surg. If I could cure 
 The gout, my lord, without the philosopher's 
 
 stone 
 
 I should soon purchase, it being a disease 
 In poor men very rare, and in the rich 
 The cure impossible. Your many bounties 
 Bid me prepare you for a certain truth, 
 And to flatter you were dishonest. 
 
 Paul. Your plain dealing 
 Deserves a fee. Would there were many 
 
 more such 
 Of your profession ! Happy are poor 
 
 men ! 
 
 If sick with the excess of heat or cold, 
 Caused by necessitous labour, not loose 
 
 surfeits, 
 
 They, when spare diet, or kind nature fail 
 To perfect their recovery, soon arrive at 
 Their rest in death : but, on the contrary, 
 The great and noble are exposed as preys 
 To the rapine of physicians ; and they, 
 In lingering out what is remediless, 
 Aim at their profit, not the patient's health. 
 A thousand trials and experiments 
 Have been put upon me, and I forced to pay 
 
 dear 
 
 For my vexation ; but I am resolved 
 (I thank your honest freedom) to be made 
 A property no more for knaves to work on. 
 
 Enter Cleon zoit/i a parchment roll. 
 
 What have you there? 
 
 Cle. The triumphs of an artsman 
 O'er all infirmities, made authentical 
 With the names of princes, kings, and 
 
 emperors, 
 
 That were his patients. 
 Paul. Some empiric. 
 Clc. It may be so ; but he swears, within 
 
 three days 
 He'll grub up your gout by the roots, and 
 
 make you able 
 To march ten leagues a day in complete 
 
 armour. 
 
 Paul. Impossible. 
 Cle. Or, if you like not him 
 
 Surg. Hear him, my lord, for your mirth; I i 
 
 will take order 
 They shall not wrong you. 
 Paul. Usher in your monster. 
 Cle. He is at hand. March up : now 
 speak for yourself. 
 
 Enter Empiric. 
 
 Emp. I come not, right honourable, to 
 your presence, with any base and sordid end 
 of reward ; the immortality of my fame is ' 
 the white I shoot at : the charge of my most 
 curious and costly ingredients frayed, amount- 
 ing to some seventeen thousand crowns a 
 trifle in respect of health writing your noble 
 name in my catalogue, I shall acknowledge 
 myself amply satisfied. 
 
 Surg. I believe so. 
 
 Emp. For your own sake, I most heartily 
 wish that you had now all the diseases, 
 maladies, and infirmities upon you, that 
 were ever remembered by old Galen, Hip- 
 pocrates, or the later and more admired 
 Paracelsus. 
 
 Paul. For your good wish, I thank you ! 
 
 Emp. Take me with you, I beseech your 
 good lordship. I urged it, that your joy, in 
 being certainly and suddenly freed from 
 them, may be the greater, and my not-to-be- 
 paralleled skill the more remarkable. The 
 cure of the gout a toy, without boast be it 
 said, my cradle-practice : The cancer, the 
 fistula, the dropsy, consumption of lungs 
 and kidneys, hurts in the brain, heart, or 
 liver, are things worthy my opposition ; but 
 in the recovery of my patients I ever over- 
 come them. But to your gout 
 
 Paul. Ay, marry, sir, that cured, I shall 
 
 be apter 
 To give credit to the rest. 
 
 Emp. Suppose it done, sir. 
 
 Surg. And the means you use, I beseech 
 you? 
 
 Emp. I will do it in the plainest language, 
 and discover my ingredients. First, my 
 boteni terebinthina of Cypris, my manna, 
 ros ccelo, coagulated with vetulos ovorum, 
 vulgarly yolks of eggs, with a little cyath or 
 quantity of my potable elixir, with some few 
 scruples of sassafras and guiacum, so taken 
 every morning and evening, in the space of 
 three days purgeth, cleanseth, and dissipateth 
 the inward causes of the virulent tumour. 
 
 Paul. Why do you smile ? 
 
 Surg. When he hath done I will resolve 
 you. 
 
 Emp. For my exterior applications, I 
 have these balsum-unguentulums, extracted 
 from herbs, plants, roots, seeds, gums, and 
 
THE EMPEROR OF THE EAST. 
 
 343 
 
 a million of other vegetables, the principal of 
 which are, Ulissipona, or serpentaria, sophia, 
 or herba consolidarum, parthcnium, or com- 
 manilla Romana, mumia transmarina, 
 mixed with my plumbum philosophorum, and 
 mater mctallorum, cum ossa paraleli, est 
 uniziersalc medicamentum in podagra. 
 
 Cle. A conjuring balsamum ! 
 
 Emp. This applied warm upon the pained 
 place, with a feather of struthio-cameli, or a 
 bird of paradise, which is everywhere to be 
 had, shall expulse this tartarous, viscous, 
 anatheos, and malignant dolor. 
 
 Surg. An excellent receipt ! but does 
 
 your lordship 
 Know what 'tis good for ? 
 
 Paul. I would be instructed. 
 
 Surg. For the gonorrhoea, or, if you will ; 
 
 hear it 
 In a plainer phrase, the pox. 
 
 Emp. If it cure his lordship 
 Of that by the way, I hope, sir, 'tis the j 
 
 better. 
 My medicine serves for all things, and the j 
 
 pox, sir, 
 
 Though falsely named the sciatica, or gout, 
 Is the more catholic sickness. 
 
 Paul. Hence with the rascal ! 
 Yet hurt him not, he makes me smile, and 
 
 that 
 Frees him from punishment. 
 
 [They thrust him off. 
 
 Surg. Such slaves as this 
 Render our art contemptible. 
 
 Enter Servant "with the apple. 
 
 Serv. My good lord. 
 Paul. So soon return'd ! 
 Serv. And with this present from 
 Your great and gracious mistress, with her 
 
 wishes 
 It may prove physical to you. 
 
 Paul. In my heart 
 I kneel, and thank her bounty. Dear friend 
 
 Cleon, 
 Give him the cupboard of plate in the next 
 
 room, 
 For a reward. \Exe-unt Cleon and Servant.] 
 
 Most glorious fruit ! but made 
 More precious by her grace and love that 
 
 sent it : 
 
 To touch it only, coming from her hand, 
 Makes me forget all pain. A diamond 
 Of this large size, (though it would buy a 
 
 kingdom,) 
 Hewed from the rock, and laid down at my 
 
 feet, 
 Nay, though a monarch's gift, will hold no 
 
 value, 
 
 Compared with this and yet, ere I presume 
 To taste it, though, sans question, it is 
 Some heavenly restorative, I in duty 
 Stand bound to weigh my own unworthiness. 
 Ambrosia is food only for the gods, 
 And not by human lips to be profaned. 
 I may adore it as some holy relic 
 Derived from thence, but impious to keep it 
 In my possession ; the emperor only 
 Is worthy to enjoy it. 
 
 Re-enter Cleon. 
 
 Go, good Cleon, 
 
 And (cease this admiration at this object,) 
 From me present this to my royal master, 
 I know it will amaze him ; and excuse me 
 That I am not myself the bearer of it. 
 That I should be lame now, when with wings 
 
 of duty 
 
 I should fly -to the service of this empress ! 
 Nay, no delays, good Cleon. 
 
 Cle. I am gone, sir. \Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE V. A Room in the Palace. 
 
 Enter Theodosius, Chrysapius, Timantus, 
 and Gratianus. 
 
 Cliry. Are you not tired, sir? 
 
 Theo. Tired ! I must not say so, 
 However, though I rode hard. To a hunts- 
 man, 
 
 His toil is his delight, and to complain 
 Of weariness, would shew as poorly in him 
 As if a general should grieve for a wound 
 Received upon his forehead, or his breast, 
 After a glorious victory. Lay by 
 These accoutrements for the chase. 
 
 Enter Pulcheria. 
 
 Pul. You are well return'd, sir, 
 From your princely exercise. 
 
 Theo. Sister, to you 
 I owe the freedom, and the use of all 
 The pleasures I enjoy : your care provides 
 For my security, and the burthen, which 
 I should alone sustain, you undergo, 
 And, by your painful watchings, yield my 
 
 sleeps 
 
 Both sound and sure. How happy am I in 
 Your knowledge of the art of government ! 
 And, credit me, I glory to behold you 
 Dispose of great designs, as if you were 
 A partner, and no subject of my empire. 
 
 Pul. My vigilance, since it hath well suc- 
 ceeded, 
 
 I am confident you allow of yet it is not 
 Approved by all. 
 
 Theo. Who dares repine at that 
 Which hath our suffrage ? 
 
344 
 
 THE EMPEROR OF THE EAST. 
 
 Put. One that too well knows 
 The strength of her abilities can better 
 My weak endeavours. 
 
 Theo. In this you reflect 
 Upon my empress ? 
 
 Pul. True : for, as she is 
 The consort of your bed, 'tis fit she share in 
 Your cares and absolute power. 
 
 Theo. You touch a string 
 That sounds but harshly to me ; and I must 
 j In a brother's love, advise you, thathereafter 
 i You would forbear to move it : since she is 
 In her pure self aharmony of such sweetness, 
 
 I Composed of duty, chaste desires, her beauty 
 (Though it might tempt a hermit from his 
 
 beads} 
 
 The least of her endowments. I am sorry 
 1 Her holding the first place, since that the 
 
 second 
 
 i Is proper to yourself, calls on your envy. 
 ' She err ! it is impossible in a thought ; 
 And much more speak or do what may 
 
 offend me. 
 
 In other things I would believe you, sister ; 
 But, though the tongues of saints and angels 
 
 tax'd her, 
 
 i Of any imperfection, I should be 
 Incredulous. 
 
 Pul. She is yet a woman, sir. 
 Theo. The abstract of what's excellent in 
 
 the sex, 
 But to their mulcts and frailties a mere 
 
 stranger ; 
 I'll die in this belief. 
 
 Enter Cleon with the apple. 
 
 Cle. Your humblest sen-ant, 
 The lord Paulinus, as a witness of 
 His zeal and duty to your majesty, 
 Presents vou with this jewel. 
 
 Theo. Ha ! 
 
 Cle. It is 
 Preferr'd by him 
 
 Theo. Above his honour ? 
 
 Cle. No, sir ; 
 I would have said his patrimony. 
 
 Theo. 'Tis the same. 
 
 Cle. And he entreats, since lameness may 
 
 excuse 
 
 , His not presenting it himself, from me 
 (Though far unworthy to supply his place) 
 You would vouchsafe' to accept it. 
 
 Theo. Further off, 
 
 You've told your tale. Stay you for a reward? 
 Take that. [Strikes him. 
 
 Pul. How's this ? 
 
 Chry. I never saw him moved thus. 
 
 Theo. We must not part so, sir : a guard 
 upon him ! 
 
 Enter Guard. 
 
 May I not vent my sorrows in the air, 
 Without discovery ? Forbear the room ! 
 
 {Exeunt Pul. Chry. Tim. Grat. and 
 
 Guard with Cle. 
 Yet be within call What an earthquake I 
 
 feel in me ! 
 
 And on the sudden my whole fabric totters. 
 My blood within me turns, and through my 
 
 veins, 
 
 Parting with natural redness, I discern it 
 Changed to a fatal yellow. What an army 
 Of hellish furies, in the horrid shapes 
 Of doubts and fears, charge on me ! rise to 
 
 my rescue, 
 Thou stout maintainer of a chaste wife's 
 
 honour, 
 
 The confidence of her virtues ; be not shaken 
 With the wind of vain surmises, much less 
 
 suffer 
 
 The devil Jealousy to whisper to me 
 My curious observation of that 
 I must no more remember. Will't not be? 
 Thou uninvited guest, ill-manner 'd monster, 
 I charge thee, leave me ! wilt thou force me 
 
 to 
 
 Give fuel to that fire I would put out ? 
 The goodness of my memory proves my 
 
 mischief, 
 
 And I would sell my empire, could it pur- 
 chase 
 The dull art of forgetfulness. Who waits 
 
 there ? 
 
 Re-enter Timantus. 
 
 Tim. Most sacred sir 
 
 Theo. Sacred, as 'tis accurs'd, 
 Is proper to me. Sirrah, upon your life, 
 Without a word concerning this, command 
 Eudocia to come to me. [Exit Tim.] 
 
 Would I had 
 Ne'er known her by that name, my mother's 
 
 name, 
 
 Or that, for her own sake, she had continued 
 Poor Athenais still ! No intermission ! 
 Wilt thou so soon torment me ? must I read, 
 Writ in the table of my memory, 
 To warrant my suspicion, how Paulinus 
 (Though ever thought a man averse to 
 
 women) 
 
 First gave her entertainment, made her way 
 For audience to my sister ? then I did 
 Myself observe how he was ravish 'd with 
 The gracious delivery of her story, 
 Which was, I grant, the bait that first took 
 
 me, too : 
 
 She was his convert ; what the rhetoric was 
 He used, I know not ; and, since she was 
 
 mine, 
 

 THE EMPEROR OF THE EAST. 
 
 345' 
 
 In private as in public what a mass 
 
 Of grace and favour hath she heap'd upon 
 
 him ! 
 And, but to-day, this fatal fruit She's come. 
 
 Re-enter Timantus with Eudocia, Flaccilla, 
 and Arcadia. 
 
 Can she be guilty ? 
 
 End. You seem troubled, sir ; 
 1 My innocence makes me bold to ask the 
 
 cause, 
 
 : That I may ease you of it. No salute, 
 After four long hours' absence ! 
 
 Theo. Prithee, forgive me. [Kisses her. 
 \ Methinks I find Paulinus on her lips, 
 ! And the fresh nectar that I drew from 
 
 thence 
 Is on the sudden pall'd. How have you 
 
 spent 
 Your hours since I last saw you ? 
 
 End. In the converse 
 Of your sweet sisters. 
 
 Theo. Did not Philanax, 
 From me deliver you an apple ? 
 
 End. Yes, sir ; 
 Heaven, how you frown ! pray you, talk of 
 
 something else, 
 i Think not of such a trifle. 
 
 Theo. How, a trifle ! 
 Does any toy from me presented to you, 
 Deserve to be so slighted ? do you value 
 What's sent, and not the sender ? from a 
 
 peasant 
 It had deserved your thanks. 
 
 Eud. And meets from you, sir, 
 All possible respect. 
 
 Theo. I prized it, lady, 
 At a higher rate than you believe ; and would 
 
 not 
 
 Have parted with it, but to one I did 
 Prefer before myself. 
 
 End. It was, indeed, 
 ; The fairest that I ever saw. 
 
 Theo. It was ; 
 
 And it had virtues in it, my Eudocia, 
 Not visible to the eye. 
 Eud. It may be so, sir. 
 Theo. What did you with it? tell me 
 
 punctually ; 
 
 I look for a strict accompt. 
 Eud. What shall I answer? [Aside. 
 
 Theo. Do you stagger ? Ha ! 
 Eud. No, sir ; I have eaten it. 
 ! It had the pleasant 'st taste ! I wonder that 
 You found it not in my breath. 
 
 Theo. I'faith, I did not, 
 | And it was wonderous strange. 
 Eud. Pray you, try again. 
 
 Theo. I find no scent oft here : you play 
 
 with me ; 
 You have it still ? 
 
 Eud. By your sacred life and fortune, 
 An oath I dare not break, I have eaten it. 
 
 Theo. Do you know how this oath binds ? 
 
 Eud. Too well, to break it. 
 
 Theo. That ever man, to please his brutish 
 
 sense, 
 Should slave his understanding to his 
 
 passions, 
 
 And, taken with soon-fading white and red, 
 Deliver up his credulous ears to hear 
 The magic of a Syren ; and from these 
 Believe there ever was, is, or can be, 
 More than a seeming honesty in bad woman ! 
 
 Eud. This is strange language, sii. 
 
 Theo. Who waits ? Come all. 
 
 Re-enter Pulcheria, Philanax, Chrysapius, 
 Gratianus, and Guard. 
 
 Nay, sister, not so near, being of the sex, 
 I fear you are infected too. 
 Pul. What mean you ? 
 Theo. To shew you a miracle, a prodigy 
 
 Which Afric never equall'd : Can yoir 
 
 think 
 This masterpiece of heaven, this precious 
 
 vellum, 
 
 Of such a purity and virgin whiteness, 
 Could be design'd to have perjury and 
 
 whoredom, 
 
 In capital letters, writ upon't ? 
 Pul. Dear sir. 
 Theo. Nay, add to this, an impudence 
 
 beyond 
 
 All prostituted boldness. Art not dead yet ? 
 Will not the tempests in thy conscience rend 
 
 thee 
 
 As small as atoms, that there may no sign 
 Be left thou ever wert so ? wilt thou live 
 Till thou art blasted with the dreadful 
 
 lightning 
 
 Of pregnant and unanswerable proofs 
 Of thy adulterous twines ? die yet, that I 
 With my honour may conceal it. 
 
 Eud. Would long since 
 The Gorgon of your rage had turn'd me- 
 marble ! 
 
 Or, if I have offended 
 
 Theo. If! good angels ! 
 
 But I am tame ; look on this dumb accuser. 
 {Shewing the apple* 
 Eud. Oh, I am lost ! 
 Theo. Did ever cormorant 
 Swallow his prey, and then digest it whole, 
 As she hath done this apple? Philanax, 
 As 'tis, from me presented it ; the good lady 
 
346 
 
 THE EMPEROR OF THE EAST. 
 
 1 Swore she had eaten it ; yet, I know not 
 
 how, 
 
 It came entire into Paulinus' hands, 
 And I from him received it, sent in scorn, 
 Upon my life, to give me a close touch 
 That he was weary of thee. Was there 
 
 nothing 
 
 Left thee to fee him to give satisfaction 
 To thy insatiate lust, but what was sent 
 As a dear favour from me ? How have I 
 
 sinn'd 
 
 In my dotage on this creature ! but to her, 
 I have lived as I was born, a perfect virgin: 
 Nay, more, I thought it not enough to be 
 True to her bed, but that I must feed high, 
 To strengthen my abilities to cloy 
 Her ravenous appetite, little suspecting 
 She would desire a change. 
 End. I never did, sir. 
 Theo. Be dumb ; I will not waste my 
 
 breath in taxing 
 Thy base ingratitude. How I have raised 
 
 ' thee 
 Will by the world be, to thy shame, spoke 
 
 often : 
 
 But for that ribald, who held in my empire 
 The next place to myself, so bound unto 
 
 me 
 
 By all the ties of duty and allegiance, 
 He shall pay dear for't, and feel what it is, 
 In a WTong of such high consequence, to 
 
 pull down 
 
 His lord's slow anger on him ! Philanax, 
 He's troubled with the gout, let him be 
 
 cured 
 
 With a violent death, and in the other world 
 Thank his physician. 
 
 Phil. His cause unheard, sir ? 
 PuL Take heed of rashness. 
 Theo. Is what I command 
 To be disputed ? 
 
 Phil. Your will shall be done, sir : 
 
 But that I am the instrument 
 
 Theo. Do you murmur ? 
 
 \Exit Phil, with Guard. 
 What couldst thou say, if that my license 
 
 should 
 
 Give liberty to thy tongue ? f Eudocia kneel- 
 ing, points to Theodosius' sword."} thou 
 wouldst die? I am not 
 So to be reconciled. See me no more : 
 The sting of conscience ever gnawing on 
 
 thee, 
 A long life be thy punishment ! [Exit. 
 
 Flac. O sweet lady, 
 How I could weep for her ! 
 j A read. Speak, dear madam, speak. 
 I" Your tongue, as you are a woman, while you 
 live 
 
 Should be ever moving, at the least, the 
 
 last part 
 That stirs about you. 
 
 Pul. Though I should, sad lady, 
 In policy rejoice, you, as a rival 
 Of my greatness, are removed, compassion, 
 Since I believe you innocent, commands me 
 To mourn your fortune; credit me, I will 
 
 urge 
 
 All arguments I can allege that may 
 Appease the emperor's fury. 
 
 Arcad. I will grow too, 
 Upon my knees, unless he-bid me rise, 
 And swear he will forgive you. 
 
 Flac. And repent too : 
 All this pother for an apple ! 
 
 [Exeunt Pulcheria, Arcadia, <7</Flaccilla. 
 
 Chry. Hope, dear madam, 
 And yield not to despair ; I am still your 
 
 servant, 
 
 And never will forsake you, though awhile 
 You leave the court and city, and give way 
 To the violent passions of the emperor. 
 Repentance, in his want of you, will soon 
 
 find him : 
 In the mean time, I'll dispose of you, and 
 
 omit 
 
 No opportunity that may invite him 
 To see his error. 
 
 End. Oh ! [ Wringing her hands. 
 
 Chry. Forbear, for heaven's sake. 
 
 [Exeunt t 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 SCENE I. A Room in Paulinus' House. 
 Enter Philanax, Paulinus, Guard, and 
 
 Executioners. 
 Paul. This is most barbarous ! how have 
 
 you lost 
 
 All feeling of humanity, as honour, 
 In your consent alone to have me used thus? 
 But to be, as you are, a looker on, 
 Nay, more, a principal actor in't, (the soft- 
 ness 
 Of your former life consider'd,) almost turns 
 
 me 
 Into a senseless statue. 
 
 Phil. Would, long since, 
 Death, by some other means, had made you 
 
 one, 
 
 That you might be less sensible of what 
 You have, or are to suffer ! 
 
 Paul. Am to suffer ! 
 Let such, whose happiness and heaven 
 
 depend 
 
 Upon their present being, fear to part with 
 A fort they cannot long hold ; mine to me is 
 
THE EMPEROR OF THE EAST. 
 
 347 
 
 A charge that I am weary of, all defences 
 By pain and sickness batter'd : yet take 
 
 heed, 
 Take heed, lord Philanax, that, for private 
 
 spleen, 
 
 Or any false-conceived grudge against me, 
 (Since in one thought of wrong to you I am 
 Sincerely innocent, ) you do not that 
 My royal master must in justice punish, 
 If you pass to your own heart thorough mine ; 
 The murder, as it will come out, discover'd. 
 Phil. I murder you, my lord ! heaven 
 
 witness for me, 
 
 With the restoring of your health, I wish you 
 Long life and happiness : for myself, I am 
 Compell'd to put in execution that 
 Which I would fly from ; 'tis the emperor, 
 The high incensed emperor's will, commands 
 What I must see perform'd. 
 
 Paul. The emperor ! 
 Goodness and innocence guard me ! wheels 
 
 nor racks 
 
 Can force into my memory the remembrance 
 Of the least shadow of offence, with which 
 I ever did provoke him. Though beloved, 
 {And yet the people's love is short and fatal, ) 
 I never courted popular applause, 
 Feasted the men of action, or labour'd 
 By prodigal gifts to draw the needy soldier, 
 The tribunes, or centurions to a faction, 
 Of which I would raise up the head against 
 
 him. 
 I hold no place of strength, fortress, or 
 
 castle, 
 
 In my command, that can give sanctuary 
 To malcontents, or countenance rebellion, 
 I have built no palaces to face the court, 
 Nor do my followers' braveries shame his 
 
 train ; 
 
 And though I cannot blame my fate for want, 
 My competent means of life deserve no envy ; 
 In what, then, am I dangerous? 
 
 Phil. His displeasure 
 Reflects on none of those particulars 
 Which you have mention 'd, though some 
 
 jealous princes 
 In a subject cannot brook them. 
 
 Paul. None of these ! 
 In what, then, am I worthy his suspicion ? 
 But it may, nay it must be, some informer, 
 To whom my innocence appear'd a crime, 
 Hath poison'd his late good opinion of me. 
 'Tis not to die, but, in the censure of 
 So good a master, guilty, that afflicts me. 
 Phil. There is no remedy. 
 Paul. No ! I have a friend yet, 
 To whom the state I stand in now deliver'd, 
 { Could the strictness of your warrant give 
 
 way to it,) 
 
 That, by fair intercession for me, would 
 So far prevail, that, my defence unheard, 
 I should not, innocent or guilty suffer 
 Without a fit distinction. 
 
 Phil. These false hopes, 
 My lord, abuse you. What man, when con- 
 
 demn'd, 
 
 Did ever find a friend ? or who dares lend 
 An eye of pity to that star-cross'd subject 
 On whom his sovereign frowns ? 
 
 Paul. She that dares plead 
 For innocence without a fee, the empress, 
 My great and gracious mistress. 
 
 Phil. There's your error. 
 Her many favours, which you hoped should 
 
 make you, 
 
 Prove your undoing. She, poor lady, is 
 Banish'd for ever from the emperor's pre- 
 sence, 
 
 And his confirm'd suspicion, to his wrong, 
 That you have been over-familiar with her, 
 Dooms you to death. I know you under- 
 stand me. 
 
 Paul. Over-familiar! 
 Phil. In sharing with him 
 Those sweet and secret pleasures of his bed, 
 Which can admit no partner* 
 
 Paul. And is that 
 
 The crime for which I am to die ? of all 
 My numerous sins, was there not one of 
 
 weight 
 
 Enough to sink me, if he borrow 'd not 
 The colour of a guilt I never saw, 
 To paint my innocence in a deform'd 
 And monstrous shape? but that it were 
 
 profane 
 
 To argue heaven of ignorance or injustice, 
 I now should tax it. Had the stars that 
 
 reign 'd 
 
 At my nativity such cursed influence, 
 As not alone to make me miserable, 
 But, in the neighbourhood of her goodness 
 
 to me, 
 
 To force contagion upon a lady, 
 Whose purer flames were not inferior, 
 To theirs when they shine brightest ! to die 
 
 for her, 
 
 Compared with what she suffers, is a trifle. 
 By her example warn'd, let all great women 
 Hereafter throw pride and contempt on such 
 As truly serve them, since a retribution 
 In lawful courtesies is now styled lust ; 
 And to be thankful to a servant's merits 
 Is grown a vice, no virtue. 
 Phil. These complaints 
 Are to no purpose : think on the long flight 
 Your better part must make. 
 
 Paul. She is prepared : 
 Nor can the freeing of an innocent 
 
343 
 
 THE EMPEROR OF THE EAST. 
 
 From the emperor's furious jealousy hinder 
 her. 
 
 It shall out, 'tis resolved ; but to be 
 whisper'd 
 
 To you alone. What a solemn preparation 
 
 Is made here to put forth an inch of taper, 
 
 In itself almost extinguished ! mortal poison ! 
 
 The hangman's sword ! the halter ! 
 Phil. 'Tis left to you 
 
 To make choice of which you please. 
 Paul. Any will serve 
 
 To take away my gout and life together. 
 
 I would not have the emperor imitate 
 
 Rome's monster, Nero, in that cruel mercy 
 
 He shew'd to Seneca. When you have dis- 
 charged 
 
 What you are trusted with, and I have given 
 you 
 
 Reasons beyond all doubt or disputation, 
 
 Of the empress' and my innocence ; when I 
 am dead, 
 
 (Since 'tis my master's pleasure, and high 
 treason 
 
 In you not to obey it,) I conjure you, 
 
 By the hopes you have of happiness here- 
 after, 
 
 Since mine in this world are now parting 
 from me, 
 
 That you would win the young man to re- 
 pentance 
 
 Of the wrong done to his chaste wife, 
 Eudocia. 
 
 And if perchance he shed a tear for what 
 
 In his rashness he imposed on his true 
 servant, 
 
 So it cure him of future jealousy, 
 
 'Twill prove a precious balsamum, and find 
 me 
 
 When I am in my grave. Now, when you 
 please ; 
 
 For I am ready. 
 Phil. His words work strangely on me, 
 
 And I would do but I know not what to 
 think on't. \Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE II. A Room in the Palace. 
 
 Enter Pulcheria, Flaccilla, Arcadia, Ti- 
 mantus, Gratianus, and Chrysapius. 
 
 Pul. Still in his sullen mood? no inter- 
 mission 
 Of his melancholy fit ? 
 
 Tim. It rather, madam, 
 Increases, than grows less. 
 
 Graf. In the next room 
 To his bedchamber we watch'd ; for he, by 
 
 signs, 
 
 Gave us to understand he would admit 
 Nor company nor conference. 
 
 Pul. Did he take 
 No rest, as you could guess? 
 
 Chry. Not any, madam. 
 Like a NumidSan lion, by the cunning 
 Of the desperate huntsman taken in a toil, 
 And forced into a spacious cage, he walks 
 About his chamber ; we might hear him 
 
 gnash 
 His teeth in rage, which open'd, hollow 
 
 groans 
 
 And murmurs issued from his lips, like winds 
 Imprison 'd in the caverns of the earth 
 Striving for liberty ; and sometimes throwing 
 His body on his bed, then on the ground, 
 And with such violence, that we more than 
 
 fear'd, 
 
 And still do, if the tempest of his passions 
 By your wisdom, be not laid, he will commit 
 Some outrage on himself. 
 Pul. His better angel, 
 I hope, will stay him from so foul a mischief : 
 Nor shall my care be wanting. 
 
 Tim. Twice I heard him 
 Say, False Eudocia, how much art thou 
 Unworthy of these tears! then sigh'd, and 
 
 straight 
 
 Roar'd out, Paulinust was his gouty age 
 To bepreferr'd before my strength and youth ? 
 Then groan'd again, so many ways express- 
 ing 
 
 The afflictions of a tortured soul, that we, 
 Who wept in vain for what we could not help, 
 Were sharers in his sufferings. 
 
 Pill. Though your sorrow 
 Is not to be condemn'd, it takes not from 
 The burthen of his miseries : we must prac- 
 tise, 
 
 With some fresh object, to divert his thoughts 
 From that they are wholly fix'd on. 
 
 Chry. Could I gain 
 
 The freedom of access, I would present him 
 With this petition. Will your highness 
 
 please 
 
 To look upon it : you will soon find there 
 What my intents and hopes are. 
 
 Enter Theodosius. 
 
 Grat. Ha ! 'tis he. 
 
 Pul. Stand close, 
 
 And give way to his passions ; 'tis not safe 
 To stop them in their violent course, before 
 They have spent themselves. 
 
 Theo. I play the fool, and am 
 Unequal to myself ; delinquents are 
 To suffer, not the innocent. I have done 
 Nothing, which will not hold weight in the 
 
 scale 
 
 Of my impartial justice ; neither feel I 
 The worm of conscience upbraiding me 
 
THE EMPEROR OF THE EAST. 
 
 349 
 
 For one black deed of tyranny ; wherefore, 
 
 then, 
 Should I torment myself? Great Julius 
 
 would not 
 
 Rest satisfied that his wife was free from fact, 
 But, only for suspicion of a crime, 
 Sued a divorce ; nor was this Roman rigour 
 Censured as cruel : and still the wise Italian, 
 That knows the honour of his family 
 Depends upon the purity of his bed, 
 For a kiss, nay, wanton look, will plough 
 
 up mischief, 
 
 And sow the seeds of his revenge in blood. 
 And shall I, to whose power the law's a 
 
 servant, 
 
 That stand accountable to none, for what 
 My will calls an offence, being compell'd, 
 And on such grounds, to raise an altar to 
 My anger ; though, I grant, it is cemented 
 With a loose strumpet and adulterer's gore, 
 Repent the justice of my fury? No. 
 I should not : yet still my excess of love, 
 Fed high in the remembrance of her choice 
 And sweet embraces, would persuade me 
 
 that 
 
 Connivance or remission of her fault, 
 Made warrantable by her true submission 
 For her offence, might be excusable, 
 Did not the cruelty of my wounded honour, 
 With an open mouth, deny it. 
 
 Pul. I approve of 
 
 Your good intention, and I hope 'twill 
 
 prosper. [70 Chrysapius. 
 
 He now seems calm : let us, upon our knees, 
 
 Encompass him. Most royal sir 
 
 [They all kneel 
 
 Flac. Sweet brother 
 
 Arcad. As you are our sovereign, by the 
 
 ties of nature 
 
 You are bound to be a father in your care 
 To us poor orphans. 
 
 Tim. Shew compassion, sir, 
 Unto yourself. 
 
 Graf. The majesty of your fortune 
 Should fly above the reach of grief. 
 
 Chry. And 'tis 
 Impair'd, if you yield to it. 
 
 Theo. Wherefore pay you 
 This adoration to a sinful creature ? 
 I am flesh and blood, as you are, sensible 
 Of heat and cold, as much a slave unto 
 The tyranny of my passions, as the meanest 
 Of my poor subjects. The proud attributes, 
 By oil-tongued flattery imposed upon us, 
 As sacred, glorious, high, invincible, 
 The deputy of heaven, and in that 
 Omnipotent, with all false titles else, 
 'Coin'd to abuse our frailty, though com- 
 pounded, 
 
 And by the breath of sycophants applied, 
 
 Cure not the least fit of an ague in us. 
 
 We may give poor men riches, confer 
 
 honours 
 
 On undeservers, raise, or ruin such 
 As are beneath us, and, with this puff 'd up, 
 Ambition would persuade us to forget 
 That we are men : but He that sits above us, 
 And to whom, at our utmost rate, we are 
 But pageant properties, derides our weak- 
 ness : 
 
 In me, to whom you kneel, 'tis most ap- 
 parent. 
 
 Can I call back yesterday, with all their aids 
 That bow unto my sceptre ? or restore 
 My mind to that tranquillity and peace 
 It then enjoy'd? Can I make Eudocia 
 
 chaste, 
 Or vile Paulinus honest ? 
 
 Pul. If I might 
 Without offence, deliver my opinion 
 
 Theo. What would you say ? 
 
 Pul. That, on my soul, the empress 
 Is innocent. 
 
 Chry. The good Paulinus guiltless. 
 
 Graf. And this should yield you comfort. 
 
 Theo. In being guilty 
 Of an offence far, far transcending that 
 They stand condemn'd for ! Call you this a 
 
 comfort ? . 
 
 Suppose it could be true, a corsive rather, 
 Not to eat our dead flesh, but putrify 
 What yet is sound. Was murder ever held 
 A cure for jealousy? or the crying blood 
 Of innocence, a balm to take away 
 Her festering anguish ? As you do desire 
 I should not do a justice on myself, 
 Add to the proofs by which Paulinus fell, 
 And not take from them ; in your charity 
 Sooner believe that they were false, than I 
 Unrighteous in my judgment? subjects' lives 
 Are not their prince's tennis-balls, to be 
 
 bandied 
 
 In sport away : all that I can endure 
 For them, if they were guilty, is an atom 
 To the mountain of affliction I pull'd on me, 
 Should they prove innocent. 
 
 Chry. For your majesty's peace, 
 I more than hope they were not : the false 
 
 oath 
 Ta'en by the empress, and for which she 
 
 can 
 
 Plead no excuse, convicted her, and yields 
 A sure defence for your suspicion of her. 
 And yet, to be resolved, since strong doubts 
 
 are 
 More grievous, for the most part, than to 
 
 know 
 A certain loss 
 
350 
 
 THE EMPEROR OF THE EAST. 
 
 Theo. 'Tis true, Chrysapius, 
 Were there a possible means. 
 
 Chry. Tis offer'd to you, 
 If you please to embrace it. Some few 
 
 minutes 
 Make truce with passion, and but read, and 
 
 follow 
 What's there projected, [Delivers him a 
 
 paper J\ you shall find a key 
 Will make your entrance easy, to discover 
 Her secret thoughts ; and then, as in your 
 
 wisdom 
 You shall think fit, you may determine of 
 
 her ; 
 
 And rest confirm'd, whether Paulinus died 
 A villain or a martyr. 
 
 Theo. It may do, 
 
 Nay, sure it must ; yet, howsoe'er it fall ; 
 I am most wretched. Which way in my 
 
 wishes 
 
 I should fashion the event, I'm so distracted 
 I cannot yet resolve of. Follow me ; 
 Though 'in my name all names are com- 
 prehended , 
 
 I must have witnesses in what degree 
 I have done wrong, or suffer'd. 
 Pnl. Hope the best, sir. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE III. Another Room in the same. 
 Enter Eudocia in sackcloth, her hair loose. 
 [Sings.] Why art thou slow, t/wu rest of 
 
 trouble, Death, 
 To stop a -wretch's breath, 
 That calls on thee, and offers her sad heart 
 
 A prey unto thy dart ? 
 I am nor young nor fair ; be, therefore, 
 
 bold : 
 
 Sorrow hath made me old, 
 Deform d and wrinkled ; all that I can 
 
 crave, 
 
 Is, quiet in my grave. 
 Such as live happy, hold long life a jewel ; 
 
 But to me thou art cruel. 
 If thou end not my tedious misery ; 
 
 And I soon cease to be. 
 Strike, and strike home, then ; pity unto me, 
 In one short hours delay, is tyranny. 
 
 Thus, like a dying swan, to a sad tune 
 
 I sing my own dirge ; would a requiem 
 
 follow, 
 
 Which in my penitence I despair not of, 
 (This brittle glass of life already broken 
 With misery,) the long and quiet sleep 
 Of death would be most welcome ! Yet, 
 
 before 
 
 We end our pilgrimage, 'tis fit that we 
 Should leave corruption and foul sins be- 
 hind us. 
 
 But with wash'd feet and hands, the heathens 
 
 dare not 
 
 Enter their profane temples ; and for me 
 To hope my passage to eternity 
 Can be made easy, till I have shook off 
 The burthen of my sins in free confession, \ 
 Aided with sorrow and repentance for them. 
 Is against reason. 'Tis not laying by 
 My royal ornaments, or putting on 
 This garment of humility and contrition, 
 The throwing dust and ashes on my head, 
 Long fasts to tame my proud flesh, that can* 
 
 make 
 Atonement for my soul ; that must be 
 
 humbled, 
 All outward signs of penitence else are 
 
 useless. 
 
 Chrysapius did assure me he would bring me 
 A holy man, from whom (having discover'd 
 My secret crying sins) I might receive 
 Full absolution and he keeps his word. 
 
 Enter Theodosius disguised as a Friar, 
 with Chrysapius. 
 
 Welcome, most reverend sir, upon my knees 
 I entertain you. 
 
 Theo. Noble sir, forbear 
 The place ; the sacred office that I come for 
 [Exit Chrysapius. 
 Commands all privacy. My penitent 
 
 daughter, 
 
 Be careful, as you wish remission from me,. 
 That, in confession of your sins, you hide not 
 One crime, whose ponderous weight, when 
 
 you would make 
 Your flights above the firmament, may sink 
 
 you. 
 
 A foolish modesty in concealing aught, 
 Is now far worse than impudence to profess 
 And justify your guilt, be therefore free ; 
 So may the gates of mercy open to you ! 
 End. First then, I ask a pardon, for my 
 
 being 
 
 Ingrateful to heaven's bounty. 
 Theo. A good entrance. 
 Eud. Greatness comes from above, and I' 
 
 raised to it 
 
 From a low condition, sinfully forgot 
 From whence it came ; and, looking on my- 
 self 
 
 In the false glass of flattery, I received it 
 As a debt due to my beauty, not a gift 
 Or favour from the emperor. 
 Theo. 'Twas not well. 
 Eud. Pride waited on unthankfulness ;; 
 
 and no more 
 
 Remembering the compassion of the princess, 
 And the means she used to make me what I 
 
THE EMPEROR OF THE EAST. 
 
 Contested with her, and with sore eyes 
 
 seeing 
 Her greater light as it dimm'd mine, I 
 
 practised 
 
 To have it quite put out. 
 Theo. A great offence ; 
 But, on repentance, not unpardonable. 
 Forward. 
 
 Eud. O, father ! what I now must utter, 
 I fear, in the delivery will destroy me, 
 Before you have absolved me. 
 Theo. Heaven is gracious ; 
 Out with it. 
 
 End. Heaven commands us to tell truth, 
 Yet I, most sinful wretch, forswore myself. 
 Theo. On what occasion ? 
 Eud. Quite forgetting that 
 An innocent truth can never stand in need 
 Of a guilty lie, being on the sudden ask'd 
 By the emperor, my husband, for an apple 
 Presented by him, I swore I had eaten it ; 
 When my grieved conscience too well knows 
 
 I sent it 
 
 To comfort sick Paulinus, being a man 
 I truly loved and favour'd. 
 
 Theo. A cold sweat, 
 Like the juice of hemlock, bathes me. 
 
 [Aside. 
 
 Eud. And from this 
 I A furious jealousy getting possession 
 Of the good emperor's heart, in his rage he 
 
 doom'd 
 
 The innocent lord to die ; my perjury 
 The fatal cause of murder. 
 
 Theo. Take heed, daughter, 
 You niggle not with your conscience, and 
 
 religion, 
 
 In styling him an innocent, from your fear 
 And shame to accuse yourself. The emperor 
 Had many spies upon you, saw such graces, 
 Which virtue could not warrant, shower'd 
 
 upon him ; 
 
 Glances in public, and more liberal favours 
 In your private chamber-meetings, making 
 
 way 
 
 For foul adultery ; nor could he be 
 But sensible of the compact pass'd between 
 
 you, 
 
 To the ruin of his honour. 
 Eud. Hear me, father ; 
 I look'd for comfort, but, in this, you come 
 To add to my afflictions. 
 Theo. Cause not you 
 Your own damnation in concealing that 
 Which may, in your discovery, find for- 
 giveness. 
 Open your eyes ; set heaven or hell before 
 
 you ; 
 In the revealing of the truth, you shall 
 
 Prepare a palace for your soul to dwell in, 
 Stored with celestial blessings ; whereas, if 
 You palliate your crime, and dare beyond 
 Playing with lightning, in concealing it. 
 Expect a dreadful dungeon fill'd with horror, 
 And never-ending torments. 
 
 Eud. May they fall 
 Eternally upon me, and increase, 
 When that which we call Time hath lost its 
 
 name ! 
 
 May lightning cleave the centre of the earth, 
 And I sink quick, before you have absolv'd 
 
 me, 
 
 Into the bottomless abyss, if ever, 
 In one unchaste desire, nay in a thought, 
 I wrong'd the honour of the emperor's bed ! 
 I do deserve, I grant, more than I suffer, 
 In that my fervour and desire to please him, 
 In my holy meditations press'd upon me, 
 And would not be kept out ; now to dis- 
 semble, 
 
 When I shall suddenly be insensible 
 Of what the world speaks of me, were mere 
 
 madness : 
 
 And, though you are incredulous, I presume, 
 If, as I kneel now, my eyes swoll'n with tears, 
 My hands heaved up thus, my stretch'd 
 
 heart-strings ready 
 To break asunder, my incensed lord 
 (His storm of jealousy blown o'er) should. 
 
 hear me, 
 
 He would believe I lied not. 
 Theo. Rise, and see him, 
 
 [Discovers himself. 
 On his knees with joy affirm it. 
 Eud. Can this be ? 
 Theo. My sisters, and the rest there ! All, 
 
 bear witness, 
 
 Enter Pulcheria, Arcadia, Flaccilla, Chry- 
 sapius, Timantus, and Philanax. 
 
 In freeing this incomparable lady 
 From the suspicion of guilt, I do 
 Accuse myself, and willingly submit 
 To any penance she in justice shall 
 Please to impose upon me. 
 
 End. Royal sir, 
 Your ill opinion of me's soon forgiven. 
 
 Put. But how you can make satisfaction to 
 The poor Paulinus, he being dead, in reason 
 You must conclude impossible. 
 
 Theo. And in that 
 I am most miserable ; the ocean 
 Of joy, which, in your innocence, flow'd 
 
 high to me, 
 
 Ebbs in the thought of my unjust command, 
 By which he died. O, Philanax, (as thy 
 
 name 
 Interpreted speaks thee,) thou hast ever been 
 
35 2 
 
 THE EMPEROR OF THE EAST. 
 
 A lover of the king, and thy whole life 
 Can witness thy obedience to my will, 
 In putting that in execution which 
 Was trusted to thee ; say but yet this once, 
 Thou hast not done what rashly I com- 
 manded, 
 
 And that Paulinus lives, and thy reward 
 For not performing that which I enjoin'd 
 
 thee, 
 
 Shall centuple whatever yet thy duty 
 Or merit challenged from me. 
 
 Phil. 'Tis too late, sir : 
 He's dead ; and, when you know he was 
 
 unable 
 
 To wrong you in the way that you suspected, 
 You'll wish it had been otherwise. 
 Theo. Unable! 
 Phil. I am sure he was an eunuch, and 
 
 might safely 
 
 Lie by a virgin's side; at four years made one, 
 Though, to hold grace with ladies, he con- 
 
 ceal'd it. 
 
 The circumstances, and the manner how, 
 You may hear at better leisure. 
 
 Theo. How, an eunuch ! 
 The more the proofs are that are brought to 
 
 clear thee, 
 
 My best Eudocia, the more my sorrows. 
 End. That I am innocent ? 
 Theo. That I am guilty 
 Of murder, my Eudocia. I will build 
 A glorious monument to his memory ; 
 And, for my punishment, live and die upon it, 
 And never more converse with men. 
 
 Enter Paulinus. 
 
 Paul. Live long, sir ! 
 May I do so to serve you ! and, if that 
 I live does not displease you, you owe for it 
 To this good lord. 
 
 Theo. Myself, and all that's mine. 
 
 Phil. Your pardon is a payment. 
 
 Theo. I am rapt 
 
 With joy beyond myself. Now, my Eudocia, 
 My jealousy puff' d away thus, in this breath 
 I scent the natural sweetness. {Kisses her. 
 
 Arcad. Sacred sir, 
 
 I am happy to behold this, and presume, 
 Now you are pleased, to move a suit, in 
 
 which 
 My sister is join'cl with me. 
 
 Theo. Prithee speak it ; 
 For I have vow'd to hear before I grant : 
 I thank your good instructions. 
 
 [To Pulcheria. 
 Arcad. 'Tis but this, sir : 
 We have observed the falling out and in 
 Between the husband and the wife shews 
 
 rarely ; 
 Their jars and reconcilements strangely 
 
 take us. 
 Flac. Anger and jealousy that conclude in 
 
 kisses, 
 Is a sweet war, in sooth. 
 
 Arcad. We therefore, brother, 
 Most humbly beg you would provide us 
 
 husbands, 
 That we may taste the pleasure oft. 
 
 Flac. And with speed, sir ; 
 For so your favour's doubled. 
 
 Theo. Take my word, 
 I will with all convenience ; and not blush 
 Hereafter to be guided by your counsels : 
 I will deserve your pardon. Philanax 
 Shall be remember'd, and magnificent boun- 
 ties 
 
 Fall on Chrysapius ; my grace on all. 
 Let Cleon be deliver'd, and rewarded. 
 My grace on all, which as I lend to you, 
 Return your vows to heaven, that it may 
 
 please, 
 
 As it is gracious, to quench in me 
 All future sparks of burning jealousy. 
 
 J-.xctint. 
 
 EPILOGUE. 
 
 We have reason to be doubtful, "whether he t 
 On ivhom (forced to it from necessity ) 
 The maker did confer his emperor s part, 
 Hath given you satisfaction, in his art 
 Of action and delivery ; 'tis sure truth, 
 The burthen was too heavy for his youth 
 To undergo : but, in his will, we know, 
 He was not wanting, and shall ever owe, 
 With his, our service, if your favours deign 
 To give him strength, hereafter to sustain 
 A greater weight. It is your grace that can 
 In your allowance of this, write him man 
 Before his time ; which, if you please to do, 
 You, make the player and the poet too. 
 
The Fatal Dowry. 
 
 DRAMATIS PERSONS. 
 
 Rochfort, ex-premier president of the parlia- 
 ment of Dijon. 
 
 Charalois, a noble gentleman, son to the de- 
 ceased marshal. 
 
 Romont, a brave officer, friend to Charalois. 
 
 Novall senior, premier president of the par- 
 liament of Dijon. 
 
 Novall, junior his son, in love with Beau- 
 melle. 
 
 Du Croy, president of the parliament of 
 Dijon. 
 
 Charmi, an advocate. 
 
 Beaumont, secretary to Rochfort. 
 
 Liladam, a parasite, dependent on. Novall 
 junior. 
 
 SCENE, Dijon. 
 
 Aymer, a singer, and keeper of a music- 
 house, also dependent on Novall junior. 
 Advocates. 
 Three Creditors. 
 A Priest. 
 Tailor. 
 Barber. 
 Perfumer. 
 Page. 
 
 Beaumelle, daughter to Rochfort. 
 CM i C servants to Beaumelle ; the lat- 
 Bella ert ) ter the secret agent of Novall 
 
 ' \. junior. 
 Presidents, Captains, Soldiers, Mourners, 
 
 Gaoler, Bailiffs, Servants. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 SCENE I. A Street before the Court of 
 
 Justice. 
 Enter Charalois -with a paper, Romont, and 
 
 Charmi. 
 Char. Sir, I may move the court to serve 
 
 your will ; 
 
 But therein shall both wrong you and myself. 
 Rom. Why think you so, sir? 
 Char. 'Cause I am familiar 
 With what will be their answer : they will say, 
 'Tis against law ; and argue me of ignorance, 
 For offering them the motion. 
 
 Rom. You know not, sir, 
 How in this cause, they may dispense with 
 
 law ; 
 And therefore frame not you their answer 
 
 for them, 
 But do your parts. 
 
 Char. I love the cause so well, 
 As I could run the hazard of a check for't. 
 Rom. From whom ? 
 Char. Some of the bench, that watch to 
 
 give it, 
 
 More than to do the office that they sit for : 
 But give me, sir, my fee. 
 Rom. Now you are noble. 
 
 {Gives him his purse. 
 Char. I shall deserve this better yet, in 
 giving 
 
 My lord some counsel, if he please to hear it,, 
 Than I shall do with pleading. 
 
 JKom. What may i( be, sir ? 
 
 Char. That it would please his lordship, 
 
 as the presidents 
 
 And counsellors of court come by, to stand 
 Here, and but shew himself, and to some one 
 Or two, make his request : there is a minute, 
 When a man's presence speaks in his own 
 
 cause, 
 More than the tongues of twenty advocates^ 
 
 Rom. I have urged that. 
 
 Enter Rochfort and Du Croy. 
 
 Char. Their lordships here are coming, 
 I must go get me a place. You'll find me irr 
 
 court, 
 
 And at your service. {Exit. 
 
 Rom' Now, put on your spirits. 
 Du Croy. The ease that you prepare your 
 
 self, my lord, 
 
 In giving up the place you hold in court, 
 Will prove, I fear, a trouble in the state, 
 And that no slight one. 
 
 Roch. Pray you, sir, no more. 
 
 Rom. Now, sir, lose not this offer'd means '. 
 
 their looks, 
 
 Fix'd on you with a pitying earnestness, 
 Invite you to demand their furtherance 
 To your good purpose : this such a dulness r 
 
 So foolish and untimely, as 
 
 A A 
 
354 
 
 THE FATAL DOWRY. 
 
 Du Cray. You know him ? 
 
 Roch. I do ; and much lament the sudden 
 
 fall 
 
 Of his brave house. It is young Charalois, 
 Son to the marshal, from whom he inherits 
 His fame and virtues only. 
 Rom. Ha ! they name you. 
 Du Cray. His father died in prison two 
 
 days since. 
 Roch. Yes, to the shame of this ungrateful 
 
 state ; 
 
 That such a master in the art of war, 
 So noble, and so highly meriting 
 From this forgetful country, should, for want 
 Of means to satisfy his creditors 
 The sums he took up for the general good, 
 Meet with an end so infamous. 
 
 Rom. Dare you ever 
 Hope for like opportunity ? 
 Du Croy. My good lord ! 
 
 \Tkey salute him as they pass by. 
 Roch. My wish bring comfort to you ! 
 Du Croy. The time calls us. 
 Roch. Good morrow, colonel ! 
 
 [Exeunt Rochfort and Du Croy. 
 Rom. This obstinate spleen, 
 "You think, becomes your sorrow, and sorts 
 
 weD 
 "With your black suits ; but, grant me wit or 
 
 judgment, 
 
 And, by the freedom of an honest man, 
 And a true friend to boot, I swear 'tis 
 
 shameful. 
 
 And therefore flatter not yourself with hope, 
 Your sable habit, with the hat and cloak, 
 ^No, though the ribands help, have power to 
 
 work them 
 To what you would : for those that had no 
 
 eyes 
 
 To see the great acts of your father, will not, 
 From any fashion sorrow can put on, 
 Be taught to know their duties. 
 
 Charal. If they will not, 
 They are too old to learn, and I too young 
 To give them counsel ; since, if they par- 
 take 
 
 The understanding and the hearts of men, 
 They will prevent my words and tears : if 
 
 not, 
 
 What can persuasion, though made eloquent 
 With grief, work upon such as have changed 
 
 natures 
 With the most savage beast ? Blest, blest 
 
 be ever 
 
 The memory of that happy age, when justice 
 Had no guards to keep off wrong'd inno- 
 cence 
 
 From flying to her succours, and, in that, 
 Assurance of redress ! where now, Romont, 
 
 The damn'd with more ease may ascend 
 
 from hell, 
 
 Than we arrive at her. One Cerberus there 
 Forbids the passage, in our courts a thou- 
 sand, 
 
 As loud and fertile-headed ; and the client 
 That wants the sops to fill their ravenous 
 
 throats, 
 Must hope for no access : why should I, 
 
 then, 
 
 Attempt impossibilities ; you, friend, being 
 Too well acquainted with my dearth of 
 
 means 
 To make my entrance that way ? 
 
 Rom. Would I were not ! 
 But, sir, you have a cause, a cause so just, 
 Of such necessity, not to be deferr'd, 
 As would compel a maid, whose foot was 
 
 never 
 
 Set o'er her father's threshold, nor within 
 The house where she was born, ever spake 
 
 word 
 Which was not usher'd with pure virgin 
 
 blushes, 
 
 To drown the tempest of a pleader's tongue, 
 And force corruption to give back the hire 
 It took against her. Let examples move you. 
 You see men great in birth, esteem, and for- 
 tune, 
 
 Rather than lose a scruple of their right, 
 Fawn basely upon such, whose gowns put off, 
 They would disdain for servants. 
 
 Charal. And to these 
 Can I become a suitor ? 
 Rom. Without loss : 
 Would you consider, that, to gain their 
 
 favours, 
 
 Our chastest dames put off their modesties, 
 Soldiers forget their honours, usurers 
 Make sacrifice of gold, poets of wit, 
 And men religious part with fame and good- 
 ness. 
 
 Be therefore won to use the means that may 
 Advance your pious ends. 
 Charal. You shall o'ercome. 
 Rom. And you receive the glory. Pray 
 
 you, now practise. 
 Charal. 'Tis well. 
 
 Enter Novall senior, Advocates, Liladam, 
 and three Creditors. 
 
 | {Tenders his petition.'] Xot look on me ! 
 
 Rom. You must have patience 
 
 ! Offer it again. 
 
 Charal. And be again contemn'd ! 
 Nov. sen. I know what's to be done, 
 i Crcd. And, that your lordship 
 Will please to do your knowledge, we offer 
 first 
 
THE FATAL DOWRY. 
 
 355 
 
 Our thankful hearts here, as a bounteous 
 
 earnest 
 To what we will add. 
 
 Nov. sen. One word more of this, 
 I am your enemy. Am I a man 
 Your bribes can work on ? ha ? 
 Lilad. Friends, you mistake 
 
 [Aside to Cred. 
 The way to win my lord ; he must not hear 
 
 this, 
 
 But I, as one in favour, in his sight 
 May hearken to you for my profit. Sir ! 
 Pray hear them. 
 Nov. sen. It is well. 
 Lilad. Observe him now. 
 Nov. sen. Your cause being good, and 
 
 your proceedings so, 
 Without corruption I am your friend ; 
 Speak your desires. 
 
 2 Cred. Oh, they are charitable ; 
 The marshal stood engaged unto us three 
 Two hundred thousand crowns, which, by 
 
 his death, 
 
 We are defeated of : for which great loss 
 We aim at nothing but his rotten flesh ; 
 Nor is that cruelty. 
 
 i Cred. I have a son 
 That talks of nothing but of guns and 
 
 armour, 
 
 And swears he'll be a soldier ; 'tis an humour 
 I would divert him from ; and I am told, 
 That if I minister to him in his drink, 
 Powder made of this bankrupt marshal's 
 
 bones, 
 
 Provided that the carcass rot above ground, 
 'Twill cure his foolish frenzy. 
 
 Nov. sen. You shew in it 
 A father's care. I have a son myself, 
 A fashionable gentleman, and a peaceful ; 
 And, but I am assured he's not so given, 
 He should take of it too. 
 
 Charal. Sir! [Tenders his petition. 
 
 Nov. sen. What are you ? 
 Charal. A gentleman. 
 Nov. sen. So are many that rake dunghills. 
 If you have any suit, move it in court : 
 I take no papers in corners. [Exit. 
 
 Rom. Yes, 
 
 As the matter may be carried and where- 
 by 
 
 To manage the conveyance Follow him. 
 
 Lilad. You are rude : I say he shall not 
 pass. 
 
 [Exeunt Charalois and Advocates. 
 Rom. You say so ! 
 j On what assurance ? 
 
 I For the well cutting of his lordship's corns, 
 I Picking his toes, or any office else 
 ; Nearer to baseness ! 
 
 Lilad. Look upon me better ; 
 Are these the ensigns of so coarse a fellow ? 
 Be well advised. 
 
 Rom. Out, rogue ! do not I know 
 These glorious weeds spring from the sordid 
 
 dunghill 
 
 Of thy officious baseness ? wert thou worthy 
 Of anything from me, but my contempt, 
 I would do more than this, [Beats him.~\ 
 
 more, you court-spider ! 
 Lilad. But that this man is lawless, he 
 
 should find 
 That I am valiant, 
 
 1 Cred. If your ears are fast, 
 
 'Tis nothing. What's a blow or two? as 
 much. 
 
 2 Cred. These chastisements as useful are 
 as frequent, 
 
 To such as would grow rich. 
 
 Rom. Are they so, rascals ? 
 I will befriend you, then. [Kicks them. 
 
 i Cred. Bear witness, sirs ! 
 Lilad. Truth, I have borne my part 
 
 already, friends : 
 In the court you shall have more. [Exit. 
 
 Rom. I know you for 
 The worst of spirits, that strive to rob the 
 
 tombs 
 
 Of what is their inheritance, the dead : 
 For usurers, bred by a riotous peace, 
 That hold the charter of your wealth and 
 
 freedom 
 By being knaves and cuckolds ; that ne'er 
 
 pray, 
 But when you fear the rich heirs will grow 
 
 wise, 
 To keep their lands out of your parchment 
 
 toils ; 
 
 And then, the devil your father's call'd upon, 
 To invent some ways of luxury ne'er thought 
 
 on. 
 
 Be gone, and quickly, or I'll leave no room 
 Upon your foreheads for your horns to 
 
 sprout on 
 
 Without a murmur, or I will undo you ; 
 For I will beat you honest. 
 
 i Cred. Thrift forbid ! 
 We will bear this, rather than hazard that. 
 [Exeunt Creditors. 
 
 Re-enter Charalois. 
 
 Rom. I am somewhat eased in this yet. 
 Char. Only friend, 
 
 To what vain purpose do I make my sorrow 
 Wait on the triumph of their cruelty ? 
 Or teach their pride, from my humility, 
 To think it has o'ercome? They are de- 
 termined 
 
 A A2 
 
355 
 
 THE FATAL DOWRY. 
 
 \Vhat they will do ; and it may well become 
 
 me, 
 To rob them of the glory they expect 
 
 From my submiss entreaties. 
 
 Rom. Think not so, sir : 
 The difficulties that you encounter with 
 ' Will crown the undertaking heaven ! you 
 
 weep : 
 
 ; And I could do so too, but that I know 
 I There's more expected from the son and 
 
 friend 
 
 Of him whose fatal loss now shakes our 
 natures, 
 
 Than sighs or tears, in which a village nurse, 
 Or cunning strumpet, when her knave is 
 
 hang'd, 
 
 May overcome us. We are men, young lord, 
 I Let us not do like women. To the court, 
 ' And there speak like your birth : wake 
 
 sleeping justice, 
 
 Or dare the axe. This is a way will sort 
 I W r ith what you are : I call you not to that 
 '. I will shrink from myself ; I will deserve 
 Your thanks, or suffer with you O how 
 
 bravely 
 
 That sudden fire of anger shews in you ! 
 Give fuel to it. Since you are on a shelf 
 Of extreme danger, suffer like vourself. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE II. The Court of Justice. 
 
 Enter Rochfort, Novall senior. Presidents, 
 Charmi, Du Croy, Beaumont, Advocates, 
 three Creditors, and Officers. 
 
 Du Croy. Your lordships seated, may this 
 
 meeting prove 
 
 Prosperous to us, and to the general good 
 Of Burgundy ! 
 
 Nov. sen. Speak to the point. 
 Du Cruy. Which is 
 
 With honour to dispose the place and power 
 Of premier president, which this reverend 
 
 man, 
 Grave Rochfort, whom for honour's sake I 
 
 name, 
 
 Is purposed to resign ; a place, my lords, 
 In which he hath with such integrity 
 Perform'd the first and best parts of a judge, 
 That, as his life transcends all fair examples 
 Of such as were before him in Dijon, 
 i So it remains to those that shall succeed him, 
 ; A precedent they may imitate, but not equal. 
 Roch. I may not sit to hear this. 
 Du Crov. Let the love 
 And thankfulness we are bound to pay to 
 
 goodness, 
 
 In this o'ercome your modesty. 
 . Roch. My thanks 
 
 For this great favour shall prevent your 
 
 trouble. 
 
 The honourable trust that was imposed 
 Upon my weakness, since you witness for 
 
 me 
 
 It was not ill discharged, I will not mention; 
 Nor now, if age had not deprived me of 
 The little strength I had to govern well 
 The province that I undertook, fon-ake it. 
 Nov. sen. That we could lend you of our 
 
 years ! 
 
 Du Croy. Or strength ! 
 A or. sen. Or, as you are, persuade you to- 
 
 continue 
 
 The noble exercise of your knowing judg- 
 ment ! 
 Roch. That may not be ; nor can your 
 
 lordships' goodness, 
 Since your employments have conferr'd uport 
 
 me 
 
 Sufficient wealth, deny the use of it : 
 And, though old age, when one loot's in the 
 
 grave, 
 
 In many, when all humours else arc spent, 
 Feeds no affection in them, but desire 
 To add height to the mountain of their riches. 
 In me it is not so. I rest content 
 With the honours and estate I now possess r 
 And, that I may have liberty to use 
 What heaven, still blessing my poor industry,. 
 Hath made me master of, I pray the court 
 To ease me of my burthen, that I may 
 Employ the small remainder of my life 
 In living well, and learning how to die so. 
 
 Enter Romont and Charalois. 
 
 Rom. See, sir, our advocate. 
 
 Du Croy. The court entreats 
 Your lordship will be pleased to name the- 
 
 man, 
 Which you would have your successor, and,. 
 
 in me, 
 All promise to confirm it. 
 
 Roch. I embrace it 
 As an assurance of their favour to me, 
 And name my lord Novall. 
 
 Du Croy. The court allows it. 
 
 Roch. But there are suitors wait here, and 
 
 their causes 
 
 May be of more necessity to be heard ; 
 I therefore wish that mine may be deferr'd,. 
 And theirs have hearing. 
 
 Du Croy. If your lordship please 
 
 {To Nov. sen.. 
 To take the place, we will proceed. 
 
 Char. The cause 
 
 We come to offer to your lordships' censure,. 
 Is in itself so noble, that it needs not 
 Or rhetoric in me that plead, or favour 
 
THE FATAL DOWRY. 
 
 357 
 
 From vour grave lordships, to determine of 
 
 it ; 
 
 Since to (he praise of your impartial justice 
 (Which guilty, nay, condemn 'd men, dare 
 
 not scandal) 
 Tt will erect a trophy of your mercy, 
 
 Which married to that justice 
 
 JVoi>. sen. Speak to the cause. 
 
 Char. I will, my lord. To say, the late 
 
 dead marshal, 
 
 The father of this young lord here, my client, 
 Hath done his country great and faithful 
 
 service, 
 
 Might task me of impertinence, to repeat 
 What your grave lordships cannot but re- 
 member. 
 
 He, in his life, became indebted to 
 These thrifty men, (I will not wrong their 
 
 credits, 
 By giving them the attributes they now 
 
 merit,) 
 
 And failing, by the fortune of the wars, 
 Of means to free himself from his engage- 
 ments, 
 
 He was arrested, and for want of bail, 
 Imprison'd at their suit ; and, not long after, 
 With loss of liberty, ended his life. 
 And, though it be a maxim in our laws, 
 All suits die with the person, these men's 
 
 malice 
 In death finds matter for their hate to work 
 
 on ; 
 
 Denying him the decent rites of burial, 
 Which the sworn enemies of the Christian 
 
 faith 
 
 Grant freely to their slaves. May it there- 
 fore please 
 
 Your lordships so to fashion your decree, 
 That, what their cruelty doth forbid, your 
 
 pity 
 May give allowance to. 
 
 Nov. sen. How long have you, sir, 
 Practised in court? 
 
 Char. Some twenty years, my lord. 
 Nov. sen. By your gross ignorance, it 
 
 should appear, 
 Not twenty days. 
 
 Char. I hope I have given no cause 
 In this, my lord. 
 
 Nov. sen. How dare you move the court 
 To the dispensing with an act, confirm'd 
 By parliament, to the terror of all bankrupts? 
 Go home ; and with more care peruse the 
 
 statutes : 
 
 Or the next motion, savouring of this bold- 
 ness, 
 
 May force you, sir, to leap, against your will, 
 Over the place you plead at. 
 Char. I iorcsaw this. 
 
 Rom. Why, does your lordship think the 
 
 moving of 
 
 A cause more honest than this court had ever 
 The honour to determine, can deserve 
 A check like this ? 
 
 Nov. sen. Strange boldness ! 
 Rom. 'Tis fit freedom : 
 Or, do you conclude an advocate cannot hold 
 His credit with the judge, unless he study 
 His face more than the cause for which he 
 
 pleads ? 
 Char. Forbear. 
 
 Rom. Or cannot you, that have the power 
 To qualify the rigour of the laws 
 When you are pleased, take a little from 
 The strictness of your sour decrees, enacted 
 In favour of the greedy creditors, 
 Against the o'erthrown debtor ? 
 
 Nov. sen. Sirrah ! you that prate 
 Thus saucily, what are you ? 
 Rom. Why, I'll tell thee, 
 Thou purple-colour 'd man ! I am one to 
 
 whom 
 Thou ow'st the means thou hast of sitting 
 
 there, 
 
 A corrupt elder. 
 Char. Forbear. 
 Rom. The nose thou wear'st is my gift ; 
 
 and those eyes, 
 
 That meet no object so base as their master, 
 Had been long since torn from that guilty ! 
 
 head, 
 
 And thou thyself slave to some needy Swiss, ! 
 Had I not worn a sword, and used it better j 
 Than, in thy prayers, thou ever didst thy i 
 
 tongue. 
 Nov. sen. Shall such an insolence pass 
 
 unpunish'd ! 
 Char. Hear me. 
 Rom. Yet I, that, in my service done my ' 
 
 country, 
 
 Disdain to be put in the scale with thee, 
 Confess myself unworthy to be valued 
 With the least part, nay, hair of the dead 
 
 marshal ; 
 
 Of whose so many glorious undertakings, 
 Make choice of any one, and that the 
 
 meanest, 
 
 Perform 'd against the subtle fox of France, 
 The politic Louis, or the more desperate 
 
 Swiss, 
 
 And 'twill outweigh all the good purposes, 
 Though put in act, that ever gownman prac- 
 tised. 
 
 Nov. sen. Away with him to prison ! 
 Rom. If that curses, 
 
 Urged justly, and breath 'd forth so, ever fell 
 On those that did deserve them, let not 
 mine 
 
THE FATAL DOWRY. 
 
 Be spent in vain now, that thou from this 
 
 instant 
 Mayst, in thy fear that they will fall upon 
 
 thee, 
 Be sensible of the plagues they shall bring 
 
 with them. 
 
 And for denying of a little earth . 
 To cover what remains of our great soldier, 
 May all your wives prove whores, your 
 
 factors thieves, 
 And, while you live, your riotous heirs undo 
 
 you ! 
 
 And thou, the patron of their cruelty, 
 Of all thy lordships live not to be owner 
 Of so much dung as will conceal a dog, 
 Or, what is worse, thyself in ! And thy years, 
 To th' end thou mayst be wretched, I wish 
 
 many ; 
 
 And, as thou hast denied the dead a grave, 
 May misery in thy life make thee desire one, 
 Which men and all the elements keep from 
 
 thee! 
 I have begun well ; imitate, exceed. 
 
 [Aside to Charalois. 
 
 Roch. Good counsel, were it a praise- 
 worthy deed. 
 
 [Exeunt officers -with Romont. 
 Du Croy. Remember what we are. 
 Charal. Thus low my duty 
 Answers your lordship's counsel. I will use, 
 In the few words with which I am to trouble 
 Your lordship's ears, the temper that you 
 
 wish me ; 
 
 Not that I fear to speak my thoughts as loud, 
 And with a liberty beyond Romont ; 
 But that I know, for me, that am made up 
 Of all that's \vretched, so to haste my end, 
 Would seem to most rather a willingness 
 To quit the burthen of a hopeless life, 
 Than scorn of death, or duty to the dead. 
 I, therefore, bring the tribute of my praise 
 To your severity, and commend the justice 
 That will not, for the many services 
 That any man hath done the commonwealth, 
 Wink at his least of ills. What though my 
 
 father 
 
 Writ man before he was so, and confirm 'd it, 
 By numbering that day no part of his life, 
 In which he did not service to his country ; 
 Was he to be free, therefore, from the laws 
 And ceremonious form in your decrees ! 
 Or else, because he did as much as man, 
 In those three memorable overthrows 
 At Granson, Morat, Nancy, where his 
 
 master, 
 
 The warlike Charalois, (with whose mis- 
 fortunes 
 
 I bear his name,) lost treasure, men, and life, 
 To be excused from payment of those sums 
 
 Which (his own patrimony spent) his zeal 
 To serve his country forced him to take up ! j 
 
 Nov. sen. The precedent were ill. 
 
 Charal. And yet, my lord, this much, 
 I know, you'll grant ; after those great 
 
 defeatures, 
 Which in their dreadful ruins buried quick 
 
 Re-enter Officers. 
 
 Courage and hope in all men but himself, 
 He forced the proud foe, in his height of 
 
 conquest, 
 
 To yield unto an honourable peace ; 
 And in it saved an hundred thousand lives, 
 To end his own, that was sure proof against 
 The scalding summer's heat, and winter's 
 
 frost, 
 
 111 airs, the cannon, and the enemy's sword. 
 In a most loathsome prison. 
 Du Croy. 'Twas his fault 
 To be so prodigal. 
 
 Nov. sen. He had from the state 
 Sufficient entertainment for the army. 
 
 Charal. Sufficient, my lords ! You sit at 
 
 home, 
 And, though your fees are boundless at the 
 
 bar, 
 
 Are thrifty in the charges of the war 
 
 But your wills be obey'd. To these I turn, 
 To these soft-hearted men, that wisely know 
 They're only good men that pay what they 
 
 owe. 
 
 2 Cred. And so they are. 
 i Cred. It is the city doctrine ; 
 We stand bound to maintain it. 
 
 Charal. Be constant in it ; 
 And since you are as merciless in your 
 
 natures, 
 
 As base and mercenary in your means 
 By which you get your wealth, I will not urge 
 The court to take away one scruple from 
 The right of their laws, or [wish] one good ' 
 
 thought 
 
 In you, to mend your disposition with. 
 I know there is no music to your ears 
 So pleasing as the groans of men in prison ; 
 And that the tears of widows, and the cries j 
 Of famish'd orphans, are the feasts that take j 
 
 you. 
 
 That to be in your danger, with more care 
 Should be avoided than infectious air, 
 The loath'd embraces of diseased women, 
 A flatterer's poison, or the loss of honour. j 
 Yet rather than my father's reverend dust 
 Shall want a place in that fair monument, 
 In which our noble ancestors lie entomb'd, ; 
 Before the court I offer up myself 
 A prisoner for it. Load me with those irons j 
 
THE FATAL DOWRY. 
 
 359 
 
 That have worn out his life ; in my best strength 
 I'll run to the encounter of cold, hunger, 
 And choose my dwelling where no sun dares 
 
 enter, 
 So he may be released. 
 
 1 Cred. What mean you, sir ? 
 
 2 Advo, Only your fee again : there's so 
 much said 
 
 Already in this cause, and said so well, 
 That, should I only offer to speak in it, , 
 I should be or not heard, or laugh 'd at for it. 
 
 1 Cred. 'Tis the first money advocate e'er 
 gave back, 
 
 Though he said nothing. 
 
 Roch. Be advised, young lord, 
 And well considerate ; you throw away 
 Your liberty and joys of life together : 
 Your bounty is employ'd upon a subject 
 That is not sensible of it, with which wise man 
 Never abused his ' goodness. The great 
 
 virtues 
 
 Of your dead father vindicate themselves 
 From these men's malice, and break ope the 
 
 prison, 
 Though it contain his body. 
 
 Nov. sen. Let him alone : 
 If he love cords, in God s name let him 
 
 wear them ; 
 Provided these consent. 
 
 Charal. I hope they are not 
 So ignorant in any way of profit, 
 As to neglect a possibility 
 To get their own, by seeking it from that 
 Which can return them nothing but ill fame, 
 And curses, for their barbarous cruelties. 
 
 3 Cred. What think you of the offer? 
 
 2 Cred. Very well. 
 
 1 Cred. Accept it by all means. Let's 
 shut him up : 
 
 He is well shaped, and has a villainous 
 
 tongue, 
 
 And, should he study that way of revenge, 
 | As I dare almost swear he loves a wench, 
 j W T e have no wives, nor never shall get 
 
 daughters, 
 
 That will hold out against him. 
 Du Cray. What's your answer ? 
 
 2 Cred. Speak you for all. 
 
 i Cred. Why, let our executions 
 That lie upon the father, be return'd 
 Upon the son, and we release the body. 
 
 Nov. sen. The court must grant you that. 
 
 Charal. I thank your lordships. 
 They have in it confirm 'd on me such glory 
 As no time can take from me : I am ready, 
 Come, lead me where you please. Captivity, 
 That comes with honour, is true liberty. 
 
 [Exeunt Charalois, Charmi, Officers, 
 and Creditors. 
 
 Nov. sen. Strange rashness ! 
 Roch. A brave resolution rather, 
 Worthy a better fortune : but, however, 
 It is not now to be disputed ; therefore 
 To my own cause. Already I have found 
 Your lordships bountiful in your favours 
 
 to me, 
 And that should teach my modesty to end 
 
 here, 
 And press your loves no further. 
 
 Du Croy. There is nothing 
 The court can grant, but with assurance you 
 May ask it, and obtain it. 
 
 Roch. You encourage 
 A bold petitioner, and 'tis not fit 
 Your favours should be lost : besides, 't'as 
 
 been 
 
 A custom many years, at the surrendering 
 The place I now give up, to grant the 
 
 president 
 
 One boon, that parted with it ; and, to con- 
 firm 
 Your grace towards me, against all such as 
 
 may 
 
 Detract my actions and life hereafter, 
 I now prefer it to you. 
 Du Croy. Speak it freely. 
 Roch. I then desire the liberty of Romont, 
 And that my lord Novall, whose private 
 
 wrong 
 
 Was equal to the injury that was done 
 To the dignity of the court, will pardon it, 
 And now sign his enlargement. 
 Nov. sen. Pray you demand 
 The moiety of my estate, or anything 
 Within my power, but this. 
 Roch. Am I denied then 
 My first and last request ? 
 Du Croy. It must not be. 
 
 2 Pre. I have a voice to give in it. 
 
 3 Pre. And I. 
 
 And if persuasion will not work him to it, 
 W T e will make known our power. 
 
 Nov. sen. You are too violent , 
 You shall have my consent : but would you 
 
 had 
 
 Made trial of my love in anything 
 But this, you should have found then but 
 
 it skills not : 
 You have what you desire. 
 
 Roch. I thank your lordships. 
 
 Du Croy. The court is up. Make way. 
 
 [Exeunt all but Rochfort and Beaumont. 
 
 Roch. I follow you. 
 Beaumont ! 
 
 Beau. My lord. 
 
 Roch. You are a scholar, Beaumont ; 
 And can search deeper into phe intents of 
 men, 
 
360 
 
 THE FATAL DOWRY. 
 
 Than those that are less knowing. How 
 
 appear'd 
 
 ' The piety and brave behaviour of 
 Young Charalois, to you ? 
 Beau. It is my wonder, 
 :Since I want language to express it fully : 
 
 And sure the colonel 
 
 ! Koch. Fie ! he was faulty. 
 What present money have I ? 
 
 Beau. There's no want 
 Of any sum a private man has use for. 
 
 ,.Roch. 'Tis well : 
 
 1 am strangely taken with this Charalois. 
 Methinks, from his example the whole age 
 1 Should learn to be good, and continue so. 
 Virtue works strangely with us ; and his 
 
 goodness 
 
 Rising above his fortune, seems to me, 
 jPrince-like, to will, not ask, a courtesy. 
 
 > Exeunt. 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 SCENE I. A Street before the Prison. 
 Enter Pontalier, Malotin, and Beaumont. 
 Mai. 'Tis strange. 
 Beau. Methinks so. 
 Pont. In a man but young, 
 Yet old in judgment ; theoric and practic 
 In all humanity, and, to increase the wonder, 
 Religious, yet a soldier ; that he should 
 Yield his free-living youth a captive for 
 The freedom of his aged father's corpse, 
 And rather choose to want life's necessaries, 
 Liberty, hope of fortune, than it should 
 In death be kept from Christian ceremony. 
 Mai. Come, 'tis a golden precedent in a 
 
 son, 
 
 To let strong nature have the better hand, 
 In such a case, of all affected reason. 
 What years sit on this Charalois ? 
 
 Beau. Twenty-eight : 
 For since the clock did strike him seventeen 
 
 old, 
 
 Under his father's wing this son hath fought, 
 Served and commanded, and so aptly both, 
 That sometimes he appear'd his father's 
 
 father, 
 And never less than "s son ; the old man's 
 
 virtues 
 
 So recent in him, as the world may swear, 
 Nought but a fair tree could such fair fruit 
 
 bear. 
 
 Pont. But wherefore lets he such a bar- 
 barous law, 
 
 And men more barbarous to execute it, 
 Prevail on his soft disposition, 
 That he had rather die alive for debt 
 
 j Of the old man, in prison, than they should \ 
 \ Rob him of sepulture ; considering 
 
 These monies borrow'd bought the lenders 
 peace, 
 
 And all the means they enjoy, nor were 
 diffused 
 
 In any impious or licentious path ! 
 Beau. True ! for my part, were it my 
 father's trunk, 
 
 The tyrannous ram-heads with their horns 
 should gore it, 
 
 Or cast it to their curs, than they less 
 currish, 
 
 Ere prey on me so with their lion-law, 
 
 Being in my free will, as in his, to shun it. 
 Pont. Alas ! he knows himself in poverty 
 lost : 
 
 For, in this partial avaricious age, 
 
 What price bears honour ? virtue ? long ago, 
 
 It was but praised, and freezed ; but now-a- 
 days, 
 
 'Tis colder far, and has nor love nor praise: 
 
 The very praise now ireezeth too ; for 
 nature 
 
 Did make the heathen far more Christian 
 then, 
 
 Than knowledge us, less heathenish, Chris- 
 tian. 
 
 Mai. This morning is the funeral ? 
 Pont. Certainly, 
 
 And from this prison, 'twas the son's re- 
 quest. 
 
 That his dear father might interment have, 
 
 See, the young son enter'd a lively grave ! 
 Beau. They come : observe their order. > 
 
 Solemn music. Enter the Funeral Pro- \ 
 cession. The Coffin borne by jour, pre- \ 
 ceded by a Priest. Captains, Lieutenants, 
 Ensigns, and Soldiers; Mourners, Scutch- ! 
 eons, &c., and very good order. Romont i 
 and Charalois, followed by the Gaolers 
 and Officers, with Creditors, meet it. 
 
 Charal. How like a silent stream shaded 
 
 with night, 
 
 And gliding softly, with our windy sighs, 
 Moves the whole frame of this solemnity ! 
 Tears, sighs, and blacks filling the simile ; 
 Whilst I, the only murmur in this grove 
 Of death, thus hollowly break forth. Vouch- i 
 
 safe 
 
 [To the Bearers, who set down the Coffin. \ 
 To stay awhile. Rest, rest in peace, dear i 
 
 earth ! 
 Thou that brought'st rest to their unthank- ! 
 
 ful lives, 
 
 Whose cruelty denied thee rest in death ! 
 Here stands thy poor executor, thy son, 
 
THE FATAL DOWRY. 
 
 361 
 
 That makes his life prisoner to bail thy 
 
 death ; 
 
 Who gladlier puts on this captivity, 
 Than virgins, long in love, their wedding 
 
 weeds. 
 
 Of all that ever thou hast done good to, 
 These only have good memories ; for they 
 Remember best forget not gratitude. 
 I thank you for this last and friendly love. 
 
 [To /A* Soldiers. 
 .And though this country, like a viperous 
 
 mother, 
 
 Not only hath eat up ungratefully 
 All means of thee, her son, but last, thyself, 
 Leaving thy heir so bare and indigent, 
 He cannot raise thee a poor monument, 
 .Such as a flatterer or a usurer hath ; 
 Thy worth, in every honest breast, builds 
 
 one, 
 Making their friendly hearts thy funeral 
 
 stone. 
 Pont. Sir. 
 C/iaral. Peace ! O, peace ! this scene is 
 
 wholly mine. 
 "What! weep ye, soldiers? blanch not. 
 
 Romont weeps ! 
 
 Ha ! let me see ! my miracle is eased, 
 The gaolers and the creditors do weep ; 
 -Even they that make us weep, do weep 
 
 themselves ! 
 Be these thy body's balm ! these and thy 
 
 virtue 
 
 Keep thy fame ever odoriferous, 
 Whilst the great, proud, rich, undeserving 
 
 man, 
 
 Alive, stinks in his vices, and, being vanish'd, 
 The golden calf, that was an idol deck'd 
 With marble pillars, jet, and porphyry, 
 .Shall quickly, both in bone and name, con- 
 sume, 
 Though rapt in lead, spice, searcloth, and 
 
 perfume ! 
 i Cred. Sir. 
 Charal. What ? away, for shame ! you, 
 
 profane rogues, 
 Must not be mingled with these holy 
 
 relics ; 
 
 This is a sacrifice : our shower shall crown 
 His sepulchre with olive, myrrh, and bays, 
 The plants of peace, of sorrow, victory ; 
 Your tears would spring but weeds. 
 
 1 Cred. Would they so ! 
 
 We'll keep them to stop bottles then. 
 
 Rom. No, keep them 
 For your own sins, you rogues, till you 
 
 repent ; 
 You'll die else, and be damn'd. 
 
 2 Cred. Damn'd ha ! ha ! ha ! 
 Rom. Laugh yc ? 
 
 3 Cred. Yes, faith, sir ; we would be very 
 glad ! 
 
 To please you either way. 
 
 1 Cred. Your are ne'er content, 
 Crying nor laughing. 
 
 Rom. Both with a birth, ye rogues? 
 
 2 Cred. Our wives, sir, taught us. 
 Rom. Look, look, you slaves ! your thank- 
 less cruelty, 
 
 And savage manners of unkind Dijon, 
 Exhaust these floods, and not his father's 
 death. 
 
 1 Cred. 'Slid, sir! what would you? you're j 
 so choleric ! 
 
 2 Cred. Most soldiers are so, i'faith ; let | 
 him alone. 
 
 They have little else to live on. We've not 
 
 had 
 A penny of him, have we ? 
 
 3 Cred. 'Slight ! would you have our 
 hearts ? 
 
 i Cred. We have nothing but his body 
 
 here in durance, 
 For all our money. 
 Priest. On. 
 
 Charal. One moment more, 
 But to bestow a few poor legacies, 
 All I have left in my dead father's rights, 
 And I have done. Captain, wear thou these 
 
 spurs, 
 That yet ne'er made his horse run from a 
 
 foe. 
 
 Lieutenant, thou this scarf ; and may it tie 
 Thy valour and thy honesty together ! 
 For so it did in him. Ensign, this cuirass, 
 Your general's necklace once. You, gentle 
 
 bearers, 
 
 Divide this purse of gold ; this other, strew 
 Among the poor; 'tis all I have. Ro- 
 mont 
 
 Wear thou this medal of himself that, 
 
 like 
 
 A hearty oak, grew'st close to this tall pine, 
 Even in the wildest wilderness of war, 
 Whereon foes broke their swords, and tired 
 
 themselves : 
 Wounded and hack'd ye were, but never 
 
 fell'd. 
 
 For me, my portion provide in heaven ! 
 
 My root is earth'd, and I, a desolate branch, 
 Left scatter'd in the highway of the world, 
 Trod under foot, that might have been a 
 
 column 
 Mainly supporting our demolish'd house. 
 
 This would I wear as my inheritance 
 
 And what hope can arise to me from it, 
 When I and it are both here prisoners ! 
 Only may this, if ever we be free, 
 Keep, or redeem, me from all infamy. 
 
362 
 
 THE FATAL DOWRY. 
 
 A DIRGE TO SOLEMN MUSIC. 
 
 Fie! cease to -wonder, 
 Thoitghyou hear Orpheus with his ivory lute, 
 
 Move trees and rocks, 
 Charm bulls, bears, and men more savage, 
 
 to be mute ; 
 
 Weak foolish singer, here is one 
 Would have transformed thyself to 
 stone. 
 
 1 Cred. No further ; look to them at your 
 own peril. 
 
 2 Cred. No, as they please : their master's 
 a good man 
 
 I would they were at the Bermudas ! 
 
 Gaol. You must no further. 
 The prison limits you, and the creditors 
 Exact the strictness. 
 
 Rom. Out, you wolvish mongrels ! 
 "Whose brains should be knock'd out, like 
 
 dogs in July, 
 
 Lest your infection poison a whole town. 
 Charal. They grudge our sorrow. Your 
 
 ill wills, perforce, 
 
 Turn now to charity : they would not have us 
 Walk too far mourning ; usurers' relief 
 Grieves, if the debtors have too much of 
 grief. {Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE II. A Room in Rochfort's House. 
 Enter Beaumelle, Florimel, and Bellapert. 
 
 Beaumel. I prithee tell me, Florimel, why 
 do women marry ? 
 
 Flor. Why truly, madam, I think, to lie 
 with their husbands. 
 
 Bell. You are a fool. She lies, madam ; 
 women marry husbands, to lie with other 
 men. 
 
 Flor. 'Faith, even such a woman wilt thou 
 make. By this light, madam, this wagtail 
 will spoil you, if you take delight in her li- 
 cense. 
 
 Beaumel. "Tis true, Florimel ; and thou 
 wilt make me too good for a young lady. 
 What an electuary found my father out for 
 his daughter, when he compounded you two 
 my women ! for thou, Florimel, art even a 
 grain too heavy, simply, for a waiting- 
 gentlewoman 
 
 Flor. And thou, Bellapert, a grain too 
 light. 
 
 Bell. Well, go thy ways, goody wisdom, 
 whom nobody regards. I wonder whether 
 be elder, thou or thy hood ? You think, 
 because you served my lady's mother, are 
 thirty-two years old, which is a pip out, you 
 know 
 
 Flor. Well said, whirligig. 
 
 Bell. You are deceived ; I want a peg in 
 the middle. Out of these prerogatives, you 
 think to b3 mother of the maids here, and 
 mortify them with proverbs : go, go, govern 
 the sweetmeats, and weigh the sugar, that 
 the wenches steal none ; say your prayers 
 twice a day, and, as I take it, you have 
 performed your function. 
 
 Flor. I may be even with you. 
 Bell. Hark ! the court's broke up. Go, 
 help my old lord out of his caroch, and 
 scratch his head till dinner-time. 
 
 Flor. Well. [Exit. 
 
 Bell. Fie, madam, how you walk ! By my 
 maidenhead, you look seven years older than 
 you did this morning. Why, there can be 
 nothing under the sun valuable to make you 
 thus a minute. 
 
 Beaumel. Ah, my sweet Bellapert, thou 
 
 cabinet 
 To all my counsels, thou dost know the 
 
 cause 
 
 That makes thy lady wither thus in youth. 
 Bell. Uds-light ! enjoy your wishes : whilst 
 
 I live, 
 
 One way or other you shall crown your will. 
 Would you have him your husband that you 
 
 love, 
 And can it not be ? he is your servant, 
 
 though, 
 
 And may perform the office of a husband. 
 Beaumel. But there is honour, wench. 
 Bell. Such a disease 
 There is indeed, for which ere I would 
 
 die 
 
 Beaumel. Prithee, distinguish me a maid 
 
 and wife. 
 
 Bell. "Faith, madam, one may bear any 
 man's children, t'other must bear no man's. 
 Beaumel. What is a husband ? 
 Bell. Physic, that, tumbling in your belly, 
 will make you sick in the stomach. The 
 only distinction betwixt a husband and a 
 servant is, the first will lie with you when 
 he pleases ; the last shall lie with you when 
 you please. Pray tell me, lady, do you 
 love, to marry after, or would you marry, to 
 love after ? 
 
 Beaumel. I would meet love and marriage 
 
 both at once. 
 
 Bell. Why then you are out of the fashion, 
 and will be contemn'd : for I will assure 
 you, there are few women in the world, 
 but either they have married first, arid love 
 after ; or love first, and married after. You 
 must do as you may, not as you would : 
 your lather's will is the goal you must fly 
 to. If a husband approach you, you would 
 have further off, is he you love, the less 
 
THE FATAL DOWRY. 
 
 363 
 
 near you? A husband in these days is but a 
 cloak, to be oftener laid upon your bed, 
 than in your bed. 
 
 Beaumel. Humph ! 
 
 Bell. Sometimes you may wear him on 
 your shoulder ; now and then under your 
 arm ; but seldom or never let him cover 
 you, for 'tis not the fashion. 
 
 Enter Novall/tf#2<?r, Pontalier, Malotin, 
 Liladam, and Aymer. 
 
 Nov. jun. Best day to nature's curiosity, 
 Star of Dijon, the lustre of all France ! 
 Perpetual spring dwell on thy rosy cheeks, 
 Whose breath is perfume to our conti- 
 nent ! 
 
 See ! Flora trimm'd in her varieties. 
 
 Bell. O, divine lord ! 
 
 Nov. No autumn nor no age ever ap- 
 proach 
 This heavenly piece ; which nature having 
 
 wrought, 
 
 She lost her needle, and did then despair 
 Ever to work so lively and so fair ! 
 
 Lilad. Uds-light ! my lord, one of the 
 purls of your band is, without all discipline, 
 fallen out of his rank. 
 
 Nov. jun. How ! I would not for a 
 thousand crowns she had seen't. Dear 
 Liladam, reform it. 
 
 Bell. Oh lord per se, lord ! quintessence 
 of honour ! she walks not under a weed that 
 could deny thee anything. 
 
 Beaumel. Prithee peace, wench ; thou dost 
 
 but blow the fire, 
 That flames too much already. 
 
 [Liladam and Aymer trim Novall, 
 while Bellapert dresses her lady. 
 
 Aym. By gad, my lord, you have the 
 divinest tailor in Christendom ; he hath made 
 you look like an angel in your cloth-of-tissue 
 doublet. 
 
 Pont. This is a three-legg'd lord ; there's 
 a fresh assault. Oh ! that men should spend 
 time thus ! See, see, how her blood drives 
 to her heart, and straight vaults to her 
 cheeks again 
 
 Malot. What are these ? 
 
 Pont. One of them there, the lower, is a 
 good, foolish, knavish, sociable gallimaufry 
 of a man, and has much caught my lord 
 with singing ; he is master of a music-house. 
 The other is his dressing block, upon whom 
 my lord lays all his clothes and fashions ere 
 he vouchsafes them his own person : you 
 shall see him in the morning in the Galley- 
 foist, at noon in the Bullion, in the evening 
 in Quirpo, and all night in 
 
 Malot. A bawdyhouse. 
 
 Pont. If my lord deny, they deny ; if he 
 affirm, they affirm : they skip into my lord's 
 cast skins some twice a year ; and thus they 
 flatter to eat, eat to live, and live to praise 
 my lord. 
 
 Malot. Good sir, tell me one thing. 
 Pont. What's that ? 
 
 Malot. Dare these men ever fight on any 
 cause ? 
 
 Pont. Oh, no ! 'twould spoil their clothes, 
 and put their bands out of order. 
 
 Nov. jun. Mistress, you hear the news ? 
 your father has resign'd' his presidentship to 
 my lord my father. 
 
 Mai. And lord Charalois 
 Undone for ever. 
 
 Pont. Troth, 'tis pity, sir. 
 A braver hope of so assured a father, 
 Did never comfort France. 
 Lilad. A good dumb mourner. 
 Aym. A silent black. 
 Nov. jun. Oh, fie upon him, how he wears 
 
 his clothes ! 
 As if he had come this Christmas from St. 
 
 Omers, 
 
 To see his friends, and return'd after Twelfth- 
 tide. 
 Lilad. His colonel looks finely like a 
 
 drover 
 
 Nov. jun. That had a winter lain perdue 
 
 in the rain. 
 Aym. What, he that wears a clout about 
 
 his neck, 
 His cuffs in's pocket, and his heart in's 
 
 mouth ? 
 
 Nov. jun. Now, out upon him ! 
 Beaumel. Servant, tie my hand. 
 
 [Nov.y. kisses her hand. 
 How your lips blush, in scorn that they 
 
 should pay 
 
 Tribute to hands, when lips are in the way ! 
 Nov. jun. I thus recant; [Kisses her.} yet 
 
 now your hand looks white, 
 Because your lips robb'd it of such a right. 
 Monsieur Aymer, I prithee sing the song 
 Devoted to my mistress. 
 
 MUSIC, AND A SONG BY AYMER. 
 A Dialogue behveen a Man and a Woman. 
 Man. Set, Phcebies, set; a fairer sun doth 
 
 rise 
 
 From the bright radiance of my mis- 
 tress' eyes 
 Than ever thou begat' st: I dare not 
 
 look; 
 Each hair a golden line, each word 
 
 a hook, 
 
 The more I strive^ the more still I 
 am took. 
 
364 
 
 THE FATAL DOWRY. 
 
 i Worn. Fair servant, come; the day these 
 j eyes do lend 
 
 To warm thy blood, thou dost so 
 
 vainly spend, 
 Come, strangle breath. 
 Man. What note so sweet as this, 
 
 That calls the spirits to a further 
 
 bliss f 
 Worn. Yet this out-savours wine, and this 
 
 perfume. 
 .Man. Let's die; I languish, I consume. 
 
 Enter Rochfort and Beaumont. 
 
 Beau. Romont will come, sir, straight. 
 
 Koch. Tis well. 
 
 Beaumel. My father ! 
 
 Nov. jun. My honourable lord. 
 
 Roch. My lord Xovall, this is a virtue in 
 
 you ; 
 
 :So early up and ready before noon, 
 That are the map of dressing through all 
 
 France ! 
 Nov. jun. I rise to say my prayers, sir ; 
 
 here's my saint. 
 Roch. 'Tis well and courtly : you must 
 
 give me leave, 
 I have some private conference with my 
 
 daughter ; 
 
 Pray use my garden : you shall dine with me. 
 Lilad. We'll wait on you. 
 Nov. jun. Good morn unto your lordship ! 
 'Remember, what you have vow'd 
 
 [Aside to Beaumelle. 
 Beaumel. Perform I must. 
 
 [Exeunt all but Rochfort and 
 
 Beaumelle. 
 Roch. Why, how now, Beaumelle? thou 
 
 look'st not well. 
 Thou ait sad of late : come, cheer thee, I 
 
 have found 
 
 A wholesome remedy for these maiden fits ; 
 A goodly oak whereon to twist my vine, 
 Till her fair branches grow up to the stars. 
 Be near at hand. Success crown my intent ! 
 My business fills my little time so full, 
 I cannot stand to talk ; I know thy duty 
 Is handmaid to my will, especially 
 When it presents nothing but good and fit. 
 Beaumel. Sir, I am yours. Oh ! if my 
 
 fears prove true, 
 
 Fate hath wrong'd love, and will destroy me 
 too. [Aside, and exit. 
 
 Enter Romont and Gaoler. 
 
 Rom. Sent you for me, sir ? 
 Roch. Yes. 
 
 Rom. Your lordship's pleasure ? 
 Roch. Keeper, this prisoner I will see 
 forthcoming, 
 
 Upon my word. Sit down, good colonel. 
 
 Exit Gaoler. 
 
 Why I did wish you hither, noble sir, 
 1 Is to advise you from this iron carriage, 
 i Which, so affected, Romont, you will wear ; 
 ; To pity, and to counsel you submit 
 With expedition to the great Xovall : 
 Recant your stem contempt, and slight 
 
 neglect 
 
 Of the whole court and him, and oppor- 
 tunely, 
 
 Or you will undergo a heavy censure 
 In public, very shortly. 
 Rom. Reverend sir, 
 
 I have observed you, and do know you well; 
 And am now more afraid you know not me, 
 By wishing my submission to Novall, 
 Than I can be of all the bellowing mouths 
 That wait upon him to pronounce the cen- 
 sure, 
 Could it determine me torments and shame. 
 
 Submit, and crave forgiveness of a beast ! 
 
 'Tis true, this boil of state wears purple 
 
 tissue, 
 Is high fed, proud ; so is his lordship's 
 
 horse, 
 
 And bears as rich caparisons. I know 
 This elephant carries on his back not only 
 Towers, castles, but the ponderous republic, 
 And never stoops for't ; with his strong- 
 
 breath'd trunk 
 
 Snuffs others' titles, lordships, offices, 
 Wealth, bribes, and lives, under his ravenous 
 
 jaws : 
 
 What's this unto my freedom ? I dare die ; 
 And therefore ask this camel, if these bless- 
 ings 
 
 (For so they would be understood by a man) 
 But mollify one rudeness in his nature, 
 Sweeten the eager relish of the law, 
 At whose great helm he sits. Helps he the | 
 
 poor, 
 
 In a just business? nay, does he not cross 
 Every deserved soldier and scholar, 
 As if, when nature made him, she had made 
 The general antipathy of all virtue ? 
 How savagely and blasphemously he spake 
 Touching the general, the brave general 
 
 dead ! 
 
 I must weep when I think on't. 
 Roch. Sir. 
 Rom. My lord, 
 
 I am not stubborn ; I can melt, you see, 
 And prize a virtue better than my life : 
 For though I be not learn'd, I ever loved 
 That holy mother of all issues good, 
 Whose white hand, for a sceptre, holds a file 
 To polish roughest customs ; and, in you, 
 She has her right : see ! I am calm as sleep. 
 
THE FATAL DOWRY. 
 
 365 
 
 Rut when I think of the gross injuries, 
 The godless wrong done to my general dead, 
 I rave indeed, and could eat this Novall ; 
 A soulless dromedary ! 
 
 Roch. Oh ! be temperate. 
 Sir, though I would persuade, I'll not con- 
 strain : 
 
 Each man's opinion freely is his own 
 Concerning anything, or any body ; 
 Be it right or wrong, 'tis at the judge's peril. 
 
 Re-enter Beaumont. 
 
 Beau. These men, sir, wait without ; my 
 
 lord is come too. 
 Roch. Pay them those sums upon the 
 
 table ; take 
 
 Their full releases : stay, I want a witness. 
 Let me entreat you, colonel, to walk in, 
 i And stand but by to see this money paid ; 
 ' It does concern you and your friend ; it was 
 The better cause you were sent for, though 
 i said otherwise. 
 : The deed shall make this my request more 
 
 plain. 
 Rom. I shall obey your pleasure, sir, 
 
 though ignorant 
 , To what it tends. 
 
 {Exeunt Romont and Beaumont. 
 
 Enter Charalois. 
 
 Roch. Worthiest sir, 
 You are most welcome. Fie, no more of 
 
 this ! 
 
 You have outwept a woman, noble Charalois. 
 No man but has or must bury a father. 
 
 Cliaral. Grave sir, I buried sorrow for his 
 
 death, 
 
 In the grave with him. I did never think 
 He was immortal though I vow I grieve, 
 And see no reason why the vicious, 
 Virtuous, valiant, and unworthy man, 
 (Should die alike. 
 | Roch. They do not. 
 | Choral. In the manner 
 Of dying, sir, they do not ; but all die, 
 And therein differ not : but I have done. 
 I spied the lively picture of my father, 
 Passing your gallery, and that cast this water 
 Into mine eyes : See, foolish that I am, 
 To let it do so ! 
 
 Roch. Sweet and gentle nature ! 
 How silken is this well, comparatively 
 To other men ! \Aside.\ I have a suit to you, 
 sir. 
 
 Charal. Take it, 'tis granted. 
 
 Roch. What? 
 
 Charal. Nothing, my lord. 
 
 Roch. Nothing is quickly granted. 
 
 Charal. Faith, my lord, 
 
 That nothing granted is even all I have, 
 For, all know, I have nothing left to grant. 
 
 Roch. Sir, have you any suit to me ? I'll 
 
 grant 
 You something, anything. 
 
 Charal. Nay, surely, I that can 
 Give nothing, will but sue for that again. 
 No man will grant me anything I sue for, 
 But begging nothing, every man will give it. 
 
 Roch. Sir! 
 
 The love I bore your father, and the worth 
 I see in you, so much resembling his, 
 Made me thus send for you : and tender 
 here, 
 [Draws a curtain and discovers a table. 
 
 with money and jewels upon it. 
 Whatever you will take, gold, jewels, both,. 
 All, to supply your wants, and free yourself.. 
 Where heavenly virtue in high blooded veins 
 Is lodged, and can agree, men should kneel. 
 
 down, 
 
 Adore, and sacrifice all that they have ; 
 And well they may, it is so seldom seen. 
 Put off your winder, and here freely take, 
 Or send your servants : nor, sir, shall you use; 
 In aught of this, a poor man's fee, or bribe 
 Unjustly taken of the rich, but what's 
 Directly gotten, and yet by the law. 
 
 Charal. How ill, sir, it becomes those, 
 hairs to mock ! 
 
 Roch. Mock i thunder strike me then ! 
 
 Charal. You do amaze me : 
 But you shall wonder too. I will not take 
 One single piece of this great heap. Why 
 
 should i 
 
 Borrow, that have no means to pay? nay, am 
 A very bankrupt, even in flattering hope 
 Of ever raising any. All my begging, 
 Is Romont's liberty. 
 
 Re-enter Romont and Beaumont, with 
 Creditors. 
 
 Roch. Here is your friend, 
 Enfranchised ere you spake. I give him to 
 
 you ; 
 
 And, Charalois, I give you to your friend, 
 As free a man as he. Your father's debts 
 Are taken off. 
 
 Charal. How ! 
 
 Rom. Sir, it is most true ; 
 I am the witness. 
 
 1 Cred. Yes, faith, we are paid. 
 
 2 Cred. Heaven bless his lordship ! I did- 
 think him wiser. 
 
 3 Cred. He a statesman ! he an ass. Pay 
 other men's debts ! 
 
 i Cred. That he was never bound for. 
 Rom. One more such 
 Would save the rest of pleaders. 
 
366 
 
 THE FATAL DOWRY. 
 
 Charal. Honour'd Rochfort 
 
 Lie still, my tongue, and, blushes, scald my 
 
 cheeks, 
 That offer thanks in words, for such great 
 
 deeds. 
 
 Roch. Call in my daughter. Still I have 
 a suit to you, [Exit Beaumont. 
 
 Would you requite me. 
 
 Rom. With his life, I assure you. 
 Roch. Nay, would you make me now your 
 debtor, sir 
 
 Re-enter Beaumont with Beaumelle. 
 
 This is my only child : what she appears, 
 Your lordship well may see : her education 
 Follows not any ; for her mind, I know it 
 To be far faire*r than her shape, and hope 
 It will continue so. If now her birth 
 Be not too mean for Charalois, take her, take 
 This virgin by the hand, and call her Wife, 
 Endow'd with all my fortunes. Bless me 59 ; 
 Requite me thus, and make me happier, 
 In joining my poor empty name to yours, 
 Than if my state were multiplied tenfold. 
 Charal. Is this the payment, sir, that you 
 
 expect ! 
 
 "Why, you precipitate me more in debt, 
 That nothing but my life can ever pay. 
 This beauty being your daughter, in which 
 
 YOURS 
 
 I must conceive necessity of her virtue, 
 Without all dowry is a prince's aim : 
 Then, as she is, for poor and worthless me 
 How much too worthy! Waken me, 
 
 Romont, 
 
 That I may know I dream'd, and find this 
 vanish'd. 
 
 Rom. Sure, I sleep not. 
 
 Roch. Your sentence life or death. 
 
 Charal. Fair Beaumelle, can you love me ? 
 
 Beaumel. Yes, my lord. 
 
 Enter Novall junior, Pontalier, Malotin, 
 Liladam, a#^Aymer. They all salute. 
 
 Charal. You need not question me if I 
 
 can you : 
 
 You are the fairest virgin in Dijon, 
 And Rochfort is your father. 
 
 Noz<. jun. What's this change? [Aside. 
 Roch. You meet my wishes, gentlemen. 
 Rom. What make 
 These dogs in doublets here ? 
 Beau. A visitation, sir. 
 Charal. Then thus, fair Beaumelle, I 
 
 write my faith, 
 
 Thus seal it in the sight of heaven and men ! 
 Your fingers tie my heart-strings with this 
 touch, 
 
 In true-love knots, which nought but death 
 
 shall loose. 
 
 And let these tears, an emblem of our loves, 
 Like crystal rivers individually 
 Flow into one another, make one source, 
 Which never man distinguish, less divide ! 
 Breath marry bseath ? and kisses mingle souls, 
 Two hearts and bodies here incorporate ! 
 And, though with little wooing I have won, 
 My future life shall be a wooing time, 
 And every day new as the bridal one. 
 Oh, sir ! I groan under your courtesies, 
 More than my father's bones under his 
 
 wrongs : 
 
 You, Curtius like, have thrown into the gulf 
 Of this his country's foul ingratitude, 
 Your life and fortunes, to redeem their 
 
 shames. 
 Roch. No more, my glory! come, let's 
 
 in, and hasten 
 This celebration. 
 
 Rom. Mai. Pont. Beau. All fair bliss 
 upon it ! 
 
 \Exeunt Rochfort, Charalois, Ro- 
 mont, Beaumont, and Malotin. 
 Nov. jun. [As Beaumelle is going out^\ 
 
 Mistress ! 
 Beaumel. Oh, servant ! Virtue strengthen 
 
 me ! 
 Thy presence blows round my affection's 
 
 vane : 
 You will undo me, if you speak again. 
 
 {Exit. 
 
 Lilad. Aym. Here will be sport for you ! 
 this works. {Exeunt. 
 
 Nov. jun. Peace ! peace ! 
 Pont. One word, my lord Novall. 
 Nov. jun. What, thou wouldst money? 
 
 there ! 
 Pont. No, I will none ; I'll not be bought 
 
 a slave, 
 
 A pander, or a parasite, for all 
 Your father's worth. Though you have 
 
 saved my life, 
 
 Rescued me often from my wants, I must not 
 Wink at your follies : that will ruin you. 
 You know my blunt way, and my love to 
 
 truth 
 
 Forsake the pursuit of this lady's honour, 
 Now you do see her made another man's, 
 And such a man's, so good, so popular ! 
 Or you will pluck a thousand mischiefs on 
 
 you. 
 
 The benefits you have done me are not lost, 
 Nor cast away, they are purs'd here in my 
 
 heart ; 
 
 But let me pay you, sir, a fairer way, 
 Than to defend your vices, or to sooth 
 them. 
 
THE FATAL DOWRY. 
 
 Nov. jun. Ha, ha ! what are my courses 
 
 unto thee ? 
 
 Good cousin Pontalier, meddle with that 
 That shall concern thyself. {Exit. 
 
 Pont. No more but scorn ! 
 Move on then, stars, work your pernicious 
 
 will : 
 Only the wise rule, and prevent your ill. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 {Here a passage over the stage, while 
 the act is play ing for the marriage 
 ^Charalois with Beaumelle, err. 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 .SCENE \.A Room in Charalois' House. 
 
 Enter Novall junior, and Bellapert. 
 Nov. jun. Fly not to these excuses ; thou 
 
 hast been 
 
 False in thy promise and, when I have said 
 Ungrateful, all is spoken. 
 
 Bell. Good my lord, 
 But hear me only. 
 
 Nov. jun. To what purpose, trifler? 
 Can anything that thou canst say make void 
 The marriage, or those pleasures but a 
 
 dream, 
 
 Which Charalois, oh Venus ! hath enjoy'd ? 
 Bell. I yet could say that you receive ad- 
 vantage 
 
 i In what you think a loss, would you vouch- 
 safe me ; 
 
 I That you were never in the way, till now, 
 With safety to arrive at your desires ; 
 That pleasure makes love to you, unattended 
 By danger or repentance. 
 Nov. jun. That I could 
 But apprehend one reason how this might be! 
 Hope would not then forsake me. 
 
 Bell. The enjoying 
 
 Of what you most desire, I say the enjoying, 
 Shall, in the full possession of your wishes, 
 Confirm that I am faithful. 
 
 Nov. jun. Give some relish 
 How this may appear possible. 
 
 Bell. I will, 
 
 Relish and taste, and make the banquet easy. 
 You say my lady's married, I confess it ; 
 That Charalois hath enjoy'd her ; 'tis most 
 
 true : 
 
 That, with her, he's already master of 
 The best part of my old lord's state still 
 
 better. 
 But, that the first or last should be your 
 
 hinderance, 
 
 I utterly deny ; for, but observe me ; 
 While she went for, and was, I swear, 
 virgin, 
 
 What courtesy could she, with her honour, 
 
 give, 
 Or you receive with safety ! take me with 
 
 you : 
 
 When I say courtesy, do not think I mean, 
 f\. kiss, the tying of her shoe or garter, 
 An hour of private conference ; those are 
 
 trifles. 
 In this word courtesy we, that are gamesters, 
 
 point at 
 
 The sport direct, where not alone the lover 
 Brings his artillery, but uses it ; 
 Which word expounded to you, such a 
 
 courtesy 
 Do you expect, and sudden. 
 
 Nov. jun. But he tasted 
 The first sweets, Bellapert. 
 
 Bell. He wrong'd you shrewdly ! 
 He toil'd to climb up to the phoenix' nest, 
 And in his prints leaves your ascent more 
 
 easy. 
 
 I do not know, you that are perfect critics 
 In women's books, may talk of maiden- 
 heads 
 
 Nov. jun. But for her marriage ! 
 Bell. Tis a fair protection 
 'Gainst all arrests of fear or shame for ever. 
 Such as are fair, and yet not foolish, study 
 To have one at thirteen ; but they are mad 
 That stay till twenty. Then, sir, for the 
 
 pleasure, 
 
 To say adultery's sweeter, that is stale ; 
 This only is not the contentment more, 
 To say, This is my cuckold, than my rival ? 
 More I could say but briefly, she doats on 
 
 you ; 
 
 If it prove otherwise, spare not ; poison me, 
 With the next gold you give me. 
 
 Enter Beaumelle. 
 
 Bcaumel. How's this, servant ! 
 Courting my woman ? 
 
 Bell. As an entrance to 
 The favour of the mistress. You are to- 
 gether ; 
 
 And I am perfect in my cue. {Going. 
 
 Beaumel. Stay, Bellapert. 
 Bell. In this I must not, with your leave, 
 
 obey you. 
 
 Your tailor and your tirewoman wait with- 
 out, 
 
 And stay my counsel and direction for 
 Your next day's dressing. I have much to do, 
 Nor will your ladyship, now time is precious, 
 Continue idle ; this choice lord will find 
 So fit employment for you ! {Exit. 
 
 Bcaumel. I shall grow angry. 
 Nov. jit it. Not so ; you have a jewel in 
 her, madam. 
 
368 
 
 THE FATAL DOWRY. 
 
 Re-enter Bellapert. 
 
 Bell. I had forgot to tell your ladyship 
 The closet is private, and your couch [there] 
 
 ready ; 
 
 And, if you please that I shall lose the key, 
 
 But say so, and 'tis done. [Exit. 
 
 Beaumel. You come to chide me, servant, 
 
 and bring with you 
 
 Sufficient warrant. You will say, and truly, 
 My father found too much obedience in me, 
 By being won too soon ; yet, if you please 
 But to remember all my hopes and fortunes 
 Had reference to his liking, you will grant, 
 That though I did not well towards you, I 
 
 yet 
 Did wisely for myself. 
 
 Nov. jun. With too much fervour 
 I have so long loved, and still love you, 
 
 mistress, 
 
 To esteem that an injury to me, 
 Which was to you convenient : that is past 
 My help, is past my cure. You yet may, 
 
 lady, 
 
 In recompense of all my duteous service, 
 (Provided that your will answer your power,) 
 Become my creditress. 
 
 Beaumel. I understand you ; 
 And for assurance the request you make 
 Shall not be long unanswered, pray you, 
 
 sit ; 
 And by what you shall hear, you'll easily 
 
 find. 
 
 My passions are much fitter to desire, 
 Than to be sued to. [They court. 
 
 Enter Romont and Florimel behind. 
 
 Flor. Sir, it is not envy 
 At the start my fellow has got of me in 
 My lady's good opinion, that's the motive 
 Of this discovery ; but the due payment 
 Of what I owe her honour. 
 Rom. So I conceive it. 
 Flor. I have observed too much, nor shall 
 my silence 
 
 ! Prevent the remedy : Yonder they are ; 
 
 ' I dare not be seen with you. You may do 
 '. What you think fit, which will be, I presume, 
 ! The office of a faithful and tried friend 
 To my young lord. [Exit. 
 
 Rom. This is no vision : ha ! 
 Nov. jun. With the next opportunity? 
 Beaumel. By this kiss, 
 And this, and this. 
 
 Nov. jun. That you would ever swear 
 
 thus ! 
 Rom. [tomes foi~wardJ\ If I seem rude, 
 
 your pardon, lady ; yours 
 i I do not ask : come ; do not dare to shew me 
 
 A face of anger, or the least dislike : 
 Put on, and suddenly, a milder look, 
 I shall grow rough else. 
 
 Nov. jun. What have I done, sir, 
 To draw this harsh unsavoury language from 
 
 you? 
 Rom. Done, popinjay ! why, dost thou 
 
 think, that, if 
 I e'er had dreamt that thou hadst done me 
 
 wrong, 
 Thou shouldst outlive it ? 
 
 Beaumel. This is something more 
 Than my lord's friendship gives commission 
 
 for. 
 Nov. jun. Your presence and the place 
 
 make him presume 
 Upon my patience. 
 
 Rom. As if thou e'er wert angry 
 But with thy tailor ! and yet that poor shred 
 Clan bring more to the making up of a man, 
 Than can be hoped from thee : thou art his 
 
 creature ; 
 And did he not, each morning, new create 
 
 thee, 
 Thou'dst stink, and be forgotten. I'll not ' 
 
 change 
 
 One syllable more with thee, until thou bring 
 Some testimony, under good men s hands, 
 Thou art a Christian : I suspect thee strongly, 
 And will be satisfied ; till which time, keep 
 
 from me. 
 
 The entertainment of your visitation, 
 Has made what I intended one, a business. 
 Nov. jun. So ! we shall meet. Madam. 
 Rom. Use that leg again, 
 And I'll cut off the other. 
 
 Nov. jun. Very good. [Exit, 
 
 Rom. What a perfume the muskcat leaves 
 
 behind him ! 
 
 Do you admit him for a property, 
 To save you charges, lady? 
 Beaumel. 'Tis not useless, 
 Now you are to succeed him. 
 
 Rom. So I respect you, 
 Not for yourself, but in remembrance of 
 Who is your father, and whose wife you now 
 
 are, 
 That I choose rather not to understand 
 
 Your nasty scoff, than 
 
 Beaumel. What, you will not beat me 
 If I expound it to you ! Here's a tyrant 
 Spares neither man nor woman ! 
 
 Rom. My intents, 
 
 Madam, deserve not this ; nor do I stay 
 To be the whetstone of your wit : preserve it 
 To spend on such as know how to admire 
 Such colour'd stuff. In me, there now 
 
 speaks to you, 
 As true a friend and servant to your honour, 
 
THE FATAL DOWRY. 
 
 369 
 
 And one that will with as much hazard 
 guard it, 
 
 I As ever man did goodness : but then, 
 
 lady, 
 
 You must endeavour not alone to BE, 
 But to APPEAR, worthy such love and ser- 
 vice. 
 
 Beaumel. To what tends this ? 
 Rom. Why, to this purpose, lady. 
 I do desire you should prove such a wife 
 To Charalois (and such a one he merits) 
 As Caesar, did he live, could not except at ; 
 Not only innocent from crime, but free 
 From all taint and suspicion. 
 
 Beaumel. They are base 
 That judge me otherwise. 
 
 Rom. But yet be careful : 
 Detraction's a bold monster, and fears not 
 To wound the fame of pdnces, if it find 
 But any blemish in their lives to work on. 
 j But I'll be plainer with you : had the people 
 Been learn'd to speak but what even now I 
 
 saw, 
 Their malice out of that would raise an 
 
 engine 
 
 To overthrow your honour. In my sight, 
 With yonder painted fool I frighted from 
 
 you, 
 
 You used familiarity beyond 
 A modest entertainment : you embraced him 
 With too much ardour for a stranger, and 
 Met him with kisses neither chaste nor 
 
 comely. 
 
 But learn you to forget him, as I will 
 Your bounties to him ; you will find it safer 
 Rather to be uncourtly than immodest. 
 Beaumel. This pretry rag about your neck 
 
 shews well, 
 And, being coarse and little worth, it speaks 
 
 you 
 
 As terrible as thrifty. 
 Rom. Madam ! 
 Beaumel. Yes : 
 And this strong belt, in which you hang 
 
 your honour, 
 
 Will outlast twenty scarfs. 
 Rom. What mean you, lady ? 
 Beaumel. And [then] all else about you 
 
 cap-a-pie, 
 
 So uniform in spite of handsomeness, 
 j Shews such a bold contempt of comeliness, 
 That 'tis not strange your laundress in the 
 
 leaguer 
 
 -Grew mad with love of you. 
 Rom. Is my free counsel 
 Answer'd with this ridiculous scorn ? 
 
 Beaumel. These objects 
 -Stole very much of my attention from me ; 
 Yet something I remember, to speak truth, 
 
 Deliver 'd gravely, but to little purpose, 
 That almost would have made me swear 
 
 some curate 
 
 Had stolen into the person of Romont, 
 And, in the praise of goodwife honesty, 
 Had read an homily. 
 
 Rom. By this hand 
 
 Beaumel. And sword, 
 I will make up your oath, it will want weight 
 
 else. 
 You are angry with me, and poor I laugh 
 
 at it. 
 Do you come from the camp, which affords 
 
 only 
 
 The conversation of cast suburb whores, 
 To set down, to a lady of my rank, 
 Limits of entertainment ? 
 
 Rom. Sure a legion 
 Has possest this woman ! 
 Beaumel. One stamp more would do well : 
 
 yet I desire not 
 You should grow horn-mad till you have a , 
 
 wife. 
 You are come to warm meat, and perhaps 
 
 clean linen ; 
 Feed, wear it, and be thankful. For me, 
 
 know, 
 That though a thousand watches were set 
 
 on me, 
 
 And you the master-spy, I yet would use 
 The liberty that best likes me. I will revel, j 
 Feast, kiss, embrace, perhaps grant larger ; 
 
 favours ; 
 
 Yet such as live upon my means shall know 
 They must not murmur at it. If my lord 
 Be now grown yellow, and has chose out you 
 To serve his jealousy this way, tell him this : \ 
 You have something to inform him. \Exit. 
 
 Rom. And I will ; 
 
 Believe it, wicked one, I will. Hear, heaven, 
 But, hearing, pardon me ! if these fruits 
 
 grow 
 
 Upon the tree of marriage, let me shun it, 
 As a forbidden sweet. An heir, and rich, 
 Young, beautiful, yet add to this a wife, 
 And I will rather choose a spittle sinner 
 Carted an age before, though three parts 
 
 rotten, 
 
 And take it for a blessing, rather than 
 Be fetter'd to the hellish slavery 
 Of such an impudence. 
 
 Enter Beaumont with writings. 
 Beau. Colonel, good fortune 
 To meet you thus ! You look sad ; but I'll 
 
 tell you 
 Something that shall remove it. O, how 
 
 happy 
 Is my lord Charalois in his fair bride ! 
 
 B B 
 
370 
 
 THE FATAL DOWRY. 
 
 Rom. A happy man, indeed ! pray you, 
 
 in what ? 
 Beau. I dare swear, you would think so 
 
 good a lady 
 A dower sufficient. 
 
 Rom. No doubt. But on. 
 
 Beau. So fair, so chaste, so virtuous, so 
 
 indeed, 
 All that is excellent ! 
 
 Rom. Women have no cunning 
 To gull the world ! {Aside. 
 
 Beau. Yet, to all these, my lord, 
 Her father, gives the full addition of 
 All he does now possess in Burgundy : 
 These writings, to confirm it, are new seal'd, 
 And I most fortunate to present him with 
 
 them ; 
 
 1 I must go seek him out. Can you direct me ? 
 Rom. You'll find him breaking a young 
 
 horse. 
 
 Beau. I thank you. {Exit. 
 
 Rom. I must do something worthy Cha- 
 
 ralois" friendship. 
 
 . If she were well inclined, to keep her so 
 , Deserved not thanks ; and yet, to stay a 
 
 woman 
 
 I Spurr'd headlong by hot lust to her own ruin, 
 j Is harder than to prop a falling tower 
 With a deceiving reed. 
 
 Enter Rochfort, speaking to a Servant 
 within. 
 
 Rock. Some one seek for me 
 As soon as he returns. 
 
 Rom. Her father? ha? 
 
 How if I break this to him ? sure it cannot 
 Meet with an ill construction : his wisdom, 
 Made powerful by the authority of a father, 
 Will warrant and give privilege to his 
 
 counsels. 
 It shall be so. My lord ! 
 
 Roch. Your friend, Romont. 
 Would you aught with me? 
 Rom. I stand so engaged 
 To your so many favours, that I hold it 
 A breach in thankfulness, should I not dis- 
 cover, 
 
 j Though with some imputation to myself, 
 ! All doubts that may concern you. 
 
 Roch. The performance 
 I Will make this protestation worth my thanks. 
 Rom. Then, with your patience, lend me 
 
 your attention : 
 
 For what I must deliver, whisper'd only, 
 You will with too much grief receive. 
 
 Enter Beaumelle and Bellapert, behind. 
 Beaumel. See, wench ! 
 Upon my life, as I forespake, he's now 
 
 Preferring his complaint ; but be thou perfect, 
 And we will fit him. 
 
 Bell. Fear not me ; pox on him ! 
 A captain turn informer against kissing ! 
 Would he were hang'd up in his rusty 
 
 armour ! 
 
 But, if our fresh wits cannot turn the plots 
 Of such a mouldy murrion on itself, 
 Rich clothes, choice fare, and a true friend 
 
 at a call, 
 
 With all the pleasures the night yields, for- 
 sake us ! 
 Roch. This in my daughter ! do not wrong 
 
 her. 
 
 Bell. Now 
 
 Begin : the game's afoot, and we in distance. 
 Beaumel. {comes forward^ 'Tis thy fault,. 
 
 foolish girl ! pin on my veil, 
 I will not wear those jewels. Am I not 
 Already match'd beyond my hopes ? yet stilt 
 You prune and set me forth, as if I were 
 Again to please a suitor. 
 
 Bell. 'Tis the course 
 That our great ladies take. 
 
 Beaumel. A weak excuse ! 
 Those that are better seen in what concerns 
 A lady's honour and fair fame, condemn it. 
 You wait well ! in your absence, my lord's 
 
 friend, 
 The understanding, grave, and wise Ro- 
 
 mont 
 
 Rom. Must I be still her sport? 
 Beaumel. Reproved me for it ; 
 And he has travell'd to bring home a judg- 
 ment 
 
 Not to be contradicted. You will say 
 My father, that owes more to years than he, 
 Has brought me up to music, language, 
 
 courtship, 
 And I must use them : true ; but not to. 
 
 offend, 
 Or render me suspected. 
 
 Roch. Does your fine story 
 Begin from this ? 
 
 Beaumel. I thought a parting kiss 
 From young Novall would have displeased' 
 
 no more 
 
 Than heretofore it hath done ; but I find 
 I must restrain such favours now ; look,. 
 
 therefore, 
 
 ! As you are careful to continue mine, 
 That I no more be visited. I'll endure 
 j The strictest course of life that jealousy 
 , Can think secure enough, ere my behaviour' 
 Shall call my fame in question. 
 
 Rom. Ten dissemblers 
 Are in this subtle devil ! You believe this ? 
 Roch. So far, that if you trouble me again 
 With a report like this, I shall not only 
 
THE FATAL DOWRY. 
 
 371 
 
 Judge you malicious in your disposition, 
 But study to repent what I have done 
 To such a nature. 
 
 Rom. Why, 'tis exceeding well. 
 
 Rock. And' for you, daughter, off with this, 
 
 off with it ! 
 
 I have that confidence in your goodness, I, 
 That I will not consent to have you live 
 Like to a recluse in a cloister : Go, 
 Call in the gallants, let them make you 
 
 merry ; 
 Use all fit liberty. 
 
 Bell. Blessing upon you ! 
 If this new preacher with the sword and 
 
 feather 
 
 Could prove his doctrine for canonical, 
 We should have a fine world. [Exit. 
 
 Rock. Sir, if you please 
 To bear yourself as fits a gentleman, 
 The house is at your sendee ; but, if not, 
 Though you seek company elsewhere, your 
 
 absence 
 Will not be much lamented. [Exit. 
 
 Rom. If this be 
 
 The recompense of striving to preserve 
 A wanton gigglet honest, very shortly 
 'Twill make all mankind panders. Do you 
 
 smile, 
 Good lady looseness ! your whole sex is like 
 
 you, 
 
 And that man 's mad that seeks to better any : 
 What new change have you next ? 
 
 Beaumel. Oh, fear not you, sir ; 
 I'll shift into a thousand, but I will 
 Convert your heresy. 
 
 Rom. What heresy? speak. 
 
 Beaumel. Of keeping a lady that is married, 
 From entertaining servants 
 
 Enter TSovaR junior, Malotin, Liladam, 
 Aymer, and Pontalier. 
 
 O, you are welcome ! 
 
 Use any means to vex him, 
 
 And then with welcome follow me. 
 
 [Aside to them, and exit. 
 
 Nov. jun. You are tired 
 With your grave exhortations, colonel ! 
 
 Lilad. How is it? faith, your lordship 
 
 may do well 
 
 To help him to some church preferment : 'tis 
 The fashion now for men of all conditions, 
 However they have lived, to end that way. 
 
 Aym. That face would do well inasurplice. 
 
 Rom. Rogues, 
 Be silent or 
 
 Pont. 'Sdeath ! will you suffer this ? 
 
 Rom. And you, the master-rogue, the 
 
 coward rascal, 
 I shall be with you suddenly. 
 
 Nov. jun. Pontalier, 
 If I should strike him, I know I should kill 
 
 him ; 
 
 And therefore I would have thee beat him, for 
 He's good for nothing else. 
 
 Lilad. His back 
 
 Appears to me, as it would tire a beadle ; 
 And then he has a knotted brow, would 
 
 bruise 
 A courtlike hand to touch it. 
 
 Aym. He looks like 
 A currier when his hides grow dear. 
 
 Pont. Take heed 
 He curry not some of you. 
 
 Nov. jun. Gads me ! he's angry. 
 
 Rom. I break no jests ; but I can break. 
 
 my sword 
 About your pates. 
 
 Enter Charalois and Beaumont. 
 
 Lilad. Here's more. 
 
 Aym. Come, let's be gone : 
 We are beleaguer' d. 
 
 Nov. jun. Look, they bring up their 
 troops. 
 
 Pont. Will you sit down 
 With this disgrace? you are abused most 
 
 Lilad. I grant you, sir, we are ; and you 
 
 would have us 
 Stay, and be more abused. 
 
 Nov. jun. My lord, I'm sorry 
 Your house is so inhospitable, we must quit 
 it. 
 
 {Exeunt all but Charalois and Romont. 
 Charal. Prithee, Romont, what caused 
 
 this uproar? 
 Rom. Nothing ; 
 They laugh'd, and used their scurvy wits, 
 
 upon me. 
 Charal. Come, 'tis thy jealous nature : 
 
 but I wonder 
 That you, which are an honest man andi 
 
 worthy, 
 
 Should foster this suspicion : no man laughs, 
 No one can whisper, but thou apprehend'st 
 His conference and his scorn reflect on thee : 
 For my part, they should scoff their thin wits, 
 
 out, 
 So I not heard them ; beat me, not being < 
 
 there. 
 Leave, leave these fits to conscious men, to, 
 
 such 
 
 As are obnoxious to those foolish things 
 As they can gibe at. 
 Rom. Well, sir. 
 Charal. Thou art known 
 Valiant without defect, rightly defined, 
 Which is as fearing to do injury, 
 
 B B2 
 
372 
 
 THE FATAL DOWRY. 
 
 As tender to endure it ; not a brabbler, 
 
 A swearer 
 
 Rom. Pish, pish ! what needs this, my 
 
 lord? 
 
 If I be known none such, how vainly you 
 Do cast away good counsel ! I have loved 
 
 you, 
 
 And yet must freely speak ; so young a tutor 
 Fits not so old a soldier as I am : 
 And I must tell you, 'twas in your behalf 
 I grew enraged thus, yet had rather die 
 Than open the great cause a syllable further. 
 Charal. In my behalf! Wherein hath 
 
 Charalois 
 
 Unfitly so demean'd himself, to give 
 The least occasion to the loosest tongue 
 To throw aspersions on him? or so weakly 
 Protected his own honour, as it should 
 Need a defence from any but himself ? 
 They are fools that judge me by my outward 
 
 seeming. 
 
 x Why should my gentleness beget abuse ? 
 The lion is not angry that does sleep, 
 Nor every man a coward that can weep. 
 For God's sake, speak the cause. 
 
 Rom. Not for the world. 
 fOh ! it will strike disease into your bones, 
 Beyond the cure of physic ; drink your blood, 
 Rob you of all your re'st, contract your sight, 
 Leave you no eyes but to see misery, 
 And of your own ; nor speech, but to wish 
 
 thus, 
 
 'Would I had perish 'd in the prison's jaws, 
 From whence I was redeem'd ! 'twill wear 
 
 you old, 
 
 Before you have experience in that art 
 That causes your affliction. 
 Charal. Thou dost strike 
 A deathful coldness to my heart's high heat, 
 And shrink'st my liver like the calenture. 
 Declare this foe of mine, and life's, that like 
 A man I may encounter and subdue it. 
 >It shall not have one such effect in me, 
 As thou denouncest : with a soldier's arm, 
 If it be strength, I'll meet it ; if a fault 
 Belonging to my mind, I'll cut it off 
 With mine own reason, as a scholar should. 
 ! 'Speak, though it make me monstrous. 
 
 Rom. I will die first. 
 
 'Farewell ; continue merry, and high heaven 
 Keep your wife chaste ! 
 
 Charal. Hum ! Stay, and take this wolf 
 Out of my breast, that thou hast lodged 
 
 there, or 
 For ever lose rne. 
 
 Rom. Lose not, sir, yourself, 
 ^And I will venture : so, the door is fast. 
 
 {Locks the door. 
 > T ow, noble Charalois, collect yourself, 
 
 Summon your spirits, muster all your 
 
 strength 
 
 That can belong to man ; sift passion 
 From every vein, and whatsoe'er ensues, 
 Upbraid not me hereafter, as the cause of 
 Jealousy, discontent, slaughter, and ruin : 
 Make me not parent to sin. You will know 
 This secret that I burn with ? 
 
 Charal. Devil on't, 
 What should it be ! Romont, I heard you 
 
 wish 
 
 My wife's continuance of chastity. 
 Rom. There was no hurt in that. 
 Charal. Why, do you know 
 A likelihood, or possibility, 
 Unto the contrary? 
 Rom. I know it not, but doubt it ; these 
 
 the grounds : 
 
 The servant of your wife now, young Novall, 
 The son unto your father's enemy, 
 (Which aggravates presumption the more,) 
 I have been warn'd of, touching her : nay, 
 
 seen them 
 
 Tied heart to heart, one in another's arms, 
 Multiplying kisses, as if they meant 
 To pose arithmetic ; or whose eyes would 
 Be first burnt out with gazing on the other's. 
 I saw their mouths engender, and their palms 
 Glew'd, as if love had lock'd them ; their 
 
 words flow 
 And melt each other's, like two circling 
 
 flames, 
 Where chastity, like a phoenix, methought, 
 
 burn'd, 
 
 But left the world nor ashes, nor an heir. 
 Why stand you silent thus ? what cold dull 
 
 phlegm, 
 
 As if you had no drop of choler mix'd 
 In your whole constitution, thus prevails, 
 To fix you now thus stupid, hearing this ? 
 Charal. You did not see him on my couch 
 
 within, 
 
 Like George a-horseback, on her, nor a-bed? 
 Rom. No. 
 Charal. Ha ! ha ! 
 
 Rom. Laugh you ! even so did your wife, 
 And her indulgent father. 
 
 Charal. They were wise : 
 Wouldst have me be a fool ? 
 Rom. No, but a man. 
 Charal. There is no dram of manhood to 
 
 suspect, 
 
 On such thin airy circumstance as this ; 
 Mere compliment and courtship. Was this 
 
 tale 
 The hideous monster which you so con- 
 
 ceal'd ? 
 
 Away, thou curious impertinent, 
 And idle searcher ol such lean, nice toys ! 
 
THE FATAL DOWRY. 
 
 373 
 
 Go, them seditious sower of debate, 
 
 Fly to such matches, where the bridegroom 
 
 doubts, 
 
 He holds not worth enough to countervail 
 The virtue and the beauty of his wife ! 
 Thou buzzing drone, that 'bout my ears dost 
 
 hum, 
 
 To strike thy rankling sting into my heart, 
 Whose venom time nor medicine could 
 
 assuage, 
 
 Thus do I put thee off ! and, confident 
 In mine own innocency and desert, 
 Dare not conceive her so unreasonable, 
 To put Novall in balance against me ; 
 An upstart, craned up to the height he has. 
 Hence, busybody ! thou'rt no friend to me, 
 That must be kept to a wife's injury. 
 Rom. Is't possible ? farewell, fine honest 
 
 man ! 
 
 Sweet-temper'd lord, adieu ! What apoplexy 
 Hath knit sense up? is this Romont's re- 
 ward ? 
 
 Bear witness, the great spirit of thy father, 
 With what a healthful hope I did ad- 
 minister 
 
 This potion, that hath wrought so viru- 
 lently ! 
 
 I not accuse thy wife of act, but would 
 Prevent her precipice to thy dishonour, 
 Which now thy tardy sluggishness will 
 
 admit. 
 Would I had seen thee graved with thy 
 
 great sire, 
 Ere lived to have men's marginal fingers 
 
 point 
 
 At Charalois, as a lamented story ! 
 An emperor put away his wife for touching 
 Another man ; but thou wouldst have thine 
 
 tasted, 
 
 And keep her, I think Phoh ! I am a fire, 
 To warm a dead man, that waste out myself. 
 Bleed What a plague, a vengeance, is't 
 
 to me, 
 
 If you will be a cuckold ? here, I shew 
 A sword's point to thee, this side you may 
 
 shun, 
 
 Or that, the peril ; if you will run on, 
 I cannot help it. 
 
 Choral. Didst thou never see me 
 Angry, Romont? 
 
 Rom. Yes, and pursue a foe 
 Like lightning. 
 
 Charal. Prithee, see me so no more : 
 I can be so again. Put up thy sword, 
 And take thyself away, lest I draw mine. 
 Rom. Come, fright your foes with this, 
 
 sir! I'm your friend, 
 And dare stand by you thus. 
 
 Charal. Thou art not my friend, 
 
 Or, being so, thou art mad ; I must not buy 
 Thy friendship at this rate. Had I just cause, 
 Thou know'st I durst pursue such injury 
 Through fire, air, water, earth, nay, were' 
 
 they all 
 
 Shuffled again to chaos ; but there's none. 
 Thy skill, Romont, consists in camps, not 
 
 courts. 
 
 Farewell, uncivil man ! let's meet no more : 
 Here our long web of friendship I untwist. 
 Shall I go whine, walk pale, and lock my 
 
 wife, 
 
 For nothing, from her birth's free liberty, 
 That open'd mine to me ? yes ! if I do, 
 The name of cuckold then dog me with 
 
 scorn ! 
 I am a Frenchman, no Italian born. 
 
 [Exit. 
 Rom. A dull Dutch rather : fall and cool, 
 
 my blood ! 
 
 Boil not in zeal of thy friend's hurt so high, 
 That is so low and cold himself in't f 
 
 Woman, 
 
 How strong art thou ! how easily beguiled ! 
 How thou dost rack us by the very horns ! 
 Now wealth, I see, change manners and the 
 
 man. 
 Something I must do mine own wrath to 
 
 assuage, 
 And note my friendship to an after-age. 
 
 [Exit, 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 SCENE I. A Room in Novall's House. 
 
 Novall junior discovered seated before (f 
 looking-glass, with a Barber and Per- 
 fumer dressing his hair, while a Tailor 
 adjusts a new suit which he wears* 
 Liladam, Aymer, and a Page attending. 
 Nov. jun. Mend this a little : pox ! thou 
 
 hast burnt me. Oh, fie upon't ! O lard ! 
 
 he has made me smell for all the world like 
 
 a flax, or a red-headed woman's chamber : 
 
 Powder, powder, powder ! 
 Perf. Oh, sweet lord ! 
 Page. That's his perfumer. 
 Tail. Oh, dear lord ! 
 Page. That's his tailor. 
 Nov. jun. Monsieur Liladam, Aymer, 
 
 how allow you the model of these clothes ? 
 Aym. Admirably, admirably ; oh, sweet 
 
 lord ! assuredly it's pity the worms should 
 
 eat thee. 
 Page. Here's a fine cell ! a lord, a tailor, 
 
 a perfumer, a barber, and a pair of mon- 
 
 sictirs : three to three ; as little wit in the 
 
 one, as honesty in the other. 'Sfoot ! I'll 
 
374 
 
 THE FATAL DbWRY. 
 
 into the country again, learn to speak truth, j 
 drink ale, and converse with my father's 
 tenants ; here I hear nothing all day, but 
 Upon my soul, as I am a gentleman, and an 
 honest man / [Aside. 
 
 Aym. I vow and affirm, your tailor must 
 needs be an expert geometrician ; he has the 
 longitude, latitude, altitude, profundity, 
 every dimension of your body, so exquisitely 
 here's a lace laid as directly as if truth 
 were a tailor. 
 
 Page. That were a miracle. [Aside. 
 
 Lilad. With a hair's-breadth's error, 
 there's a shoulder-piece cut, and the base of 
 a pickadille in puncto. 
 
 Aym. You are right, monsieur ; his vesta- 
 ments sit as if they grew upon him, or art 
 had wrought them on the same loom as 
 nature framed his lordship ; as if your tailor 
 were deep read in astrology, and had taken 
 measure of your honourable body with a 
 Jacob's staff, an ephimerides. 
 
 Tail. I am bound t'ye, gentlemen. 
 
 Page. You are deceived ; they' 11 be bound 
 to you : you must remember to trust them 
 none. {Aside. 
 
 Nov. j tin. Nay, 'faith, thou art a reason- 
 able neat artificer, give the devil his due. 
 
 Page. Ay, if he would but cut the coat 
 according to the cloth still. [Aside. 
 
 Nov. jun. I now want only my mistress' 
 approbation, who is, indeed, the most polite, 
 punctual queen of dressing in all Burgundy 
 pah ! and makes all other young ladies 
 appear as if they came from board last 
 week out of the country : is't not true, 
 Liladam ? 
 
 Lilad. True, my lord ! as if anything 
 your lordship could say could be otherwise 
 than true. 
 
 Nov. jun. Nay, o' my soul, 'tis so ; what 
 fouler object in the world, than to see a 
 young, fair, handsome beauty unhandsomely 
 dighted, and incongruently accoutred ? or a 
 hopeful chevalier unmethodically appointed 
 in the external ornaments of nature ? For, 
 even as the index tells us the contents of 
 stories, and directs to the particular chap- 
 ters, even so does the outward habit and 
 superficial order of garments (in man or 
 woman) give us a taste of the spirit, and 
 demonstratively point (as it were a manual 
 note from the margin) all the internal quality 
 and habiliment of the soul ; and there can- 
 not be a more evident, palpable, gross 
 manifestation of poor, degenerate, dunghilly 
 blood and breeding, than a rude, unpolished, 
 disordered, and slovenly outside. 
 
 Page. An admirable lecture ! oh, all you 
 
 gallants, that hope to be saved by your 
 clothes, edify, edify ! [Aside. 
 
 Aym. By the Lard, sweet lard, thou de- 
 servest a pension o' the state. 
 
 Page. O' the tailors : two such lords were J 
 able to spread tailors o'er the face of the 
 whole kingdom. [Aside. 
 
 Nov. jun. Pox o f this glass ! it flatters. 
 I could find in my heart to break it. 
 Page. O, save the glass, my lord, and 
 
 break their heads ; 
 
 They are the greater flatterers, I assure you. 
 
 [Aside. 
 Aym. Flatters ! detracts, impairs yet, 
 
 put it by, 
 Lest thou, dear lord, Narcissus like, should 'st 
 
 doat 
 
 Upon thyself, and die ; and rob the world 
 Of nature's copy, that she works form by. 
 Lilad. O that I were the infanta queen 
 
 of Europe ! 
 Who, but thyself, sweet lord, should marry 
 
 me? 
 Nov. jun. I marry ! were there a queen 
 
 o' the world, not I. 
 
 Wedlock ! no ; padlock, horselock : I 
 wear spurs [He capers. 
 
 To keep it off my heels. Yet, my Aymer, 
 Like a free, wanton jennet in the meadows, 
 I look about, and neigh, take hedge and 
 
 ditch, 
 Feed in my neighbour's pastures, pick my 
 
 choice 
 Of all their fair-maned mares : but married 
 
 once, 
 A man is staked or poun'd, and cannot 
 
 graze 
 Beyond his own hedge. 
 
 Enter Pontalier and Malotin. 
 
 Pont. I have waited, sir, 
 Three hours to speak wi' ye, and not take it 
 
 well 
 
 Such magpies are admitted, whilst I dance 
 Attendance. 
 
 Lilad. Magpies ! what d'ye take me for? 
 Pont. A long thing with a most unpro- 
 mising face. 
 Aym. I'll never ask him what he takes 
 
 me for. 
 
 Malot. Do not, sir, 
 For he'll go near to tell you. 
 
 Pont. Art not thou 
 A barber-surgeon ? 
 
 Barb. Yes, sirrah ; why ? 
 Pont. My lord is sorely troubled with two 
 scabs. 
 
 Lilad. Aym. Hum 
 
 Pont. I prithee cure him of them. 
 
THE FATAL DOWRY. 
 
 375 
 
 Nov. jun. Pish ! no more. 
 Thy gall sure's overflown ; these are my 
 
 council, 
 
 And we were now in serious discourse. 
 Font. Of perfume and apparel ! Can 
 
 you rise, 
 And spend five hours in dressing-talk with 
 
 these ! 
 Nov. jun. Thou'ldst have me be a dog : 
 
 up, stretch, and shake, 
 i And ready for all day. 
 
 Pont. Sir, would you be 
 : More curious in preserving of your honour 
 
 trim, 
 
 It were more manly. I am come to wake 
 Your reputation from this lethargy 
 i You let it sleep_ in ; to persuade, importune, 
 i Nay, to provoke you, sir, to call to account 
 ' This colonel Romont, for the foul wrong 
 I Which, like a burthen, he hath laid upon 
 
 you, 
 And, like a drunken porter, you sleep 
 
 under. 
 
 j 'Tis all the town talks ; and, believe it, sir, 
 i If your tough sense persist thus, you are 
 
 undone, 
 
 i Utterly lost ; you will be scorn'd and baffled 
 | By every lacquey : season now your youth 
 j With one brave thing, and it shall keep the 
 
 odour 
 j Even to your death, beyond, and on your 
 
 tomb 
 Scent like sweet oils and frankincense. Sir, 
 
 this life, 
 ! Which once you saved, I ne'er since counted 
 
 mine : 
 
 ; I borrow'd it of you, and now will pay it : 
 | I tender you the service of my sword, 
 } To bear your challenge; if you'll write, your 
 
 fate 
 
 } I'll make mine own ; whate'er betide you, I, 
 
 : That have lived by you, by your side will die. 
 
 Nov. jun. Ha ! ha ! wouldst have me 
 
 challenge poor Romont ? 
 Fight with close breeches, thou mayst think 
 
 I dare not : 
 
 Do not mistake me, coz, I am very valiant ; 
 But valour shall not make me such an ass. 
 What use is there of valour now-a-days ? 
 'Tis sure or to be kill'd, or to be hang'd. 
 Fight thou as thy mind moves thee, 'tis thy 
 
 trade ; 
 Thou hast nothing else to do. Fight with 
 
 Romont ! 
 No ; I'll not fight, under a lord. 
 
 Pont. Farewell, sir ! 
 I pity you, 
 
 Such living lords walk, their dead honour's 
 graves, 
 
 For no companions fit but fools and knaves. 
 Come, Malotin. 
 
 \Excunt Pontalier and Malotin. 
 
 Enter Romont. 
 
 Lilad. 'Sfoot, Colbrand, the low giant ! 
 
 Aym. He has brought a battle in his face, 
 let's go. 
 
 Page. Colbrand, d'ye call him ? he'll make 
 
 some of you 
 Smoke, I believe. 
 
 Rom. By your leave, sirs ! 
 
 Aym. Are you a consort? 
 
 Rom. Do you take me for 
 A fiddler? you're deceived : look ! I'll pay 
 you. 
 
 \Kicks them. 
 
 Page. It seems he knows you one, he 
 bumfiddles you so. 
 
 Lilad. Was there ever so base a fellow? 
 
 Aym. A rascal. 
 
 Lilad. A most uncivil groom. 
 
 Aym. Offer to kick a gentleman in a 
 nobleman's chamber! a pox o' your man- 
 ners ! 
 
 Lilad. Let him alone, let him alone : 
 thou shalt lose thy aim, fellow ; if we stir 
 against thee, hang us. 
 
 Page. 'Sfoot ! I think they have the better 
 on him, though they be kick'd, they talk so. 
 
 Lilad. Let's leave the mad ape. \Going. 
 
 Nov. jun. Gentlemen ! 
 
 Lilad. Nay, my lord, we will not offer to 
 dishonour you so much as to stay by you, 
 since he's alone. 
 
 Nov. jun. Hark you !' 
 
 Aym. We doubt the cause, and will not 
 disparage you so much as to take your 
 lordship's quarrel in hand. Plague on him, 
 how he has crumpled our bands ! 
 
 Page. I'll e'en away with them, for this 
 soldier beats man, woman, and child. 
 \_Exe^lnt all biit Novaliy#. and Romont. 
 
 Nov. jun. What mean you, sir? My 
 people ! 
 
 Rom. Your boy's gone, [Locks the door. 
 And your door's lock'd ; yet for no hurt to 
 you, 
 
 But privacy. Call up your blood again : 
 
 Be not afraid, I do beseech you, sir ; 
 And, therefore, come, without more cir- 
 cumstance, 
 
 Tell me how far the passages have gone 
 'Twixt you and your fair mistress, Beaumelle, 
 Tell me the truth, and by my hope of heaven, 
 It never shall go further. 
 
 Nov. jun. Tell you ! why, sir, are you my 
 confessor ? 
 
376 
 
 THE FATAL DOWRY. 
 
 Rom. I will be your confounder, if you do 
 not. [Draws a pocket dag. 
 
 Stir not, nor spend your voice. 
 Nov.jun. What will you do ? 
 Rom. Nothing but line your brain-pan, 
 
 sir, with lead, 
 
 If you not satisfy me suddenly : 
 I am desperate of my life, and command 
 
 yours. 
 Nov. jun. Hold ! hold ! I'll speak. I vow 
 
 to heaven and you, 
 She's yet untouch'd, more than her face and 
 
 hands. 
 
 I cannot call her innocent : for, I yield, 
 On my solicitous wooing, she consented, 
 Where time and place met opportunity, 
 To grant me all requests. 
 Rom. But may I build 
 On this assurance? 
 Nov.jun. As upon your faith. 
 Rom. Write this, sir ; nay, you must. 
 Nov. jun. Pox of this gun ! 
 Rom. Withal, sir, you must swear, and 
 
 put your oath 
 Under your hand, (shake not,) ne'er to 
 
 frequent 
 
 This lady's company, nor ever send 
 Token, or message, or letter, to incline 
 This, too much prone already, yielding lady. 
 Nov. jun. 'Tis done, sir. 
 Rom. Let me see this first is right. 
 
 [Reading. 
 
 And here you wish a sudden death may light 
 Upon your body, and hell take your soul, 
 If ever more you see her, but by chance ; 
 Much less allure her. Now, my lord, your 
 
 hand. 
 
 Nov. jun. My hand to this ! 
 Rom. Your heart else, I assure you. 
 Nov. jun. Nay, there 'tis. 
 Rom. So ! keep this last article 
 Of your faith given, and, stead of threaten- 
 
 ings, sir, 
 
 The service of my sword and life is yours. 
 But not a word of it : 'tis fairies' treasure, 
 Which but reveal'd, brings on the blabber's 
 
 ruin. 
 Use your youth better, and this excellent 
 
 form 
 Heaven hath bestow'd upon you. So, good 
 
 morrow 
 
 To your lordship ! [Exit. 
 
 Nov. jun. Good devil to your rogueship ! 
 
 No man's safe 
 
 I'll have a cannon planted in my chamber, 
 Against such roaring rogues. 
 
 Enter Bellapert, hastily. 
 Bell. My lord, away ! 
 
 The caroch stays : now have your wish, and 
 
 judge 
 If I have been forgetful. 
 
 Nov. jun. Hah ! 
 
 Bell. Do you stand 
 Humming and hahing now ? [Exit. 
 
 Nov.jun. Sweet wench, I come. 
 Hence, fear ! 
 I swore that's all one ; my next oath I'll 
 
 keep 
 
 That I did mean to break, and then 'vis quit. 
 No pain is due to lovers' perjury : 
 If Jove himself laugh at it, so will I. [Exit. 
 
 SCENE II. An outer Room in Aymer's 
 
 House. 
 
 Enter Charalois and Beaumont. 
 Beau. I grieve for the distaste, though I 
 
 have manners 
 
 Not to inquire the cause, fallen out between 
 Your lordship and Romont. 
 
 Charal. I love a friend, 
 So long as he continues in the bounds 
 Prescribed by friendship ; but, when he 
 
 usurps 
 
 Too far on what is proper to myself, 
 And puts the habit of a governor on, 
 I must and will preserve my liberty. 
 But speak of something else, this is a theme 
 I take no pleasure in. What's this Aymer, 
 Whose voice for song, and excellent know- 
 ledge in 
 
 The chiefest parts of music, you bestow 
 Such praises on ? 
 
 Beau. He is a gentleman 
 (For so his quality speaks him) well received 
 Among our greatest gallants ; but yet holds 
 His main dependence from the young lord 
 
 Novall. 
 
 Some tricks and crotchets he has in his head, 
 As all musicians have, and more of him 
 I dare not author : but, when you have heard 
 
 him, 
 
 I may presume your lordship so will like him, 
 That you'll hereafter be a friend to music. 
 Charal. I never was an enemy to't, Beau- 
 mont, 
 
 Nor yet do I subscribe to the opinion 
 Of those old captains, that thought nothing 
 
 musical 
 But cries of yielding enemies, neighing of 
 
 horses, 
 Clashing of armour, loud shouts, drums, and 
 
 trumpets ; 
 
 Nor, on the other side, in favour of it, 
 Affirm the world was made by musical dis- 
 cord ; 
 
 Or that the happiness of our life consists 
 In a well- varied note upon the lute : 
 
THE FATAL DOWRY. 
 
 377 
 
 I love it to the worth oft, and no 
 
 further. 
 
 But let us see this wonder. 
 
 Beau. He prevents 
 My calling of him. 
 
 Enter Aymer, speaking to one within. 
 
 Aym. Let the coach be brought 
 To the back gate, and serve the banquet 
 
 up. 
 
 My good lord Charalois ! I think my house : 
 Much honour'd in your presence. 
 
 Charal. To have means 
 To know you better, sir, has brought me j 
 
 hither 
 
 A willing visitant ; and you'll crown my wel- 
 come 
 
 In making me a witness to your skill, * 
 Which, crediting from others, I admire. 
 Aym. Had I been one hour sooner made 
 
 acquainted 
 With your intent, my lord, you should have 
 
 found me 
 
 Better provided : now, such as it is, 
 Pray you grace with your acceptance. 
 Beau. You are modest. 
 Aym. Begin the last new air. 
 
 [To the Musicians within. 
 Charal. Shall we not see them ? 
 Aym. This little distance from the instru- 
 ments, 
 
 Will to your ears convey the harmony 
 With more delight. 
 
 Charal. I'll not contend. 
 Aym. You are tedious. 
 
 [To the Musicians. 
 By this means shall I with one banquet 
 
 please 
 
 Two companies, those within and these gulls 
 here. 
 
 Citizens SONG of the Courtier. 
 
 Courtier, if thoii needs wilt wive, 
 From this lesson learn to thrive ; 
 If thou match a lady, that 
 Passes thee in birth and state, 
 Let her curious garments be 
 Twice above thine own degree; 
 This will draw great eyes upon her, 
 Get her servants, and thee honour. 
 
 Beaumel. [within.'] Ha ! ha ! ha ! 
 Charal. How's this ! it is my lady's laugh, 
 
 most certain. 
 When I first pleased her, in this merry 
 
 language 
 
 She gave me thanks. [Aside. 
 
 Beau. How like you this? 
 Charal. 'Tis rare- 
 
 Yet I may be deceived, and should be sorry. 
 Upon uncertain suppositions, rashly 
 To write myself in the black list of those 
 I have declaim'd against, and to Romont. 
 
 [Aside. 
 
 Aym. I would he were well off! 
 
 Perhaps your lordship 
 Likes not these sad tunes? I have a new 
 
 song, 
 
 Set to a lighter note, may please you better; 
 'Tis call'd the Happy Husband. 
 Charal. Pray you, sing it. 
 
 Courtiers SONG of the Citizen. 
 
 Poor citizen, if thou wilt be 
 
 A happy husband, learn of me 
 
 To set thy wife first in thy shop ; 
 
 A fair wife, a kind wife, a sweet wife, set's a/ 
 
 poor man up. 
 
 What though thy shelves be ne'er so bare, 
 A woman still is current ware; 
 Each man will cheapen, foe and friend ; 
 But, whilst thou art at t'other end, 
 IVhate'er thoTt seest, or what dost hear, 
 Fool, have no eye to, nor an ear ; 
 And after supper, for her sake, 
 \Vhen thou hast fed, snort, though thou wake:. 
 What though the gallants call thee Mome ! 
 Yet with thy lantern light her home; 
 Then look into the town, and tell 
 If no such tradesmen there do well. 
 
 Beaumel. [within.'} Ha ! ha ! 'tis such a- 
 
 groom ! 
 
 Charal. Do I hear this, 
 And yet stand doubtful ? 
 
 [Rushes into the house* 
 Aym. Stay him I am undone, 
 And they discover 'd. 
 
 Beau. What's the matter ? 
 Aym. Ah ! 
 That women, when they're well pleas'd,. 
 
 cannot hold ; 
 But must laugh out. 
 
 Re-enter Charalois, with his sword drawn, . 
 pursuing Novall junior, Beaumelle, 
 and Bellapert. 
 
 Nov. jun. Help ! save me ! murder ! mur- 
 der ! 
 
 Beaumel. Undone, undone, for ever ! 
 
 Charal. Oh, my heart ! 
 Hold yet a little do not hope to 'scape 
 By flight, it is impossible. Though I might 
 On all advantage take thy life, and justly ; 
 This sword, my father's sword, that ne'er 
 
 was drawn 
 
 But to a noble purpose, shall not now 
 Do the office of a hangman. I reserve it 
 
378 
 
 THE FATAL DOWRY. 
 
 To right mine honour, not for a revenge 
 So poor, that though with thee it should 
 
 cutoff 
 
 Thy family, with all that are allied 
 To thee in lust or baseness, 'twere still 
 
 short of 
 All terms of satisfaction. Draw ! 
 
 Nov. jun. I dare not : 
 i I have already done you too much wrong, 
 To fight in such a cause. 
 
 Charal. Why, darest thou neither 
 Be honest coward, nor yet valiant knave, 
 In such a cause ! come, do not shame thy- 
 self: 
 Such whose bloods wrongs, or wrong done 
 
 to themselves 
 
 Could never heat, are yet in the defence 
 Of their whores daring. Look on her again : 
 You thought her worth the hazard of your 
 
 soul, 
 
 And yet stand doubtful, in her quarrel, to 
 Venture your body . 
 
 Beau. No, he fears his clothes, 
 More than his flesh. 
 
 Charal. Keep from me ! guard thy life, 
 Or, as thou hast lived like a goat, thou 
 
 shalt 
 Die like a sheep. 
 
 Nov. jun. Since there's no remedy, 
 Despair of safety now in me prove courage ! 
 \Thcy fight, Novall ./&/&. 
 Charal. How soon weak wrong's o'er- 
 
 thrown ! Lend me your hand : 
 Bear this to the caroch come, you have 
 
 taught me 
 To say, you must and shall? 
 
 \Exeunt Beaumont and Bellapert, with 
 the Body of Novall ; followed by 
 Beaumelle. 
 
 I wrong you not, 
 
 Ton are but to keep him company you 
 love. 
 
 Re-enter Beaumont. 
 
 Is't done ? 'tis well. Raise officers, and take 
 
 care 
 
 All you can apprehend within the house 
 May be forthcoming. Do I appear much 
 
 moved ? 
 Beau. No, sir. 
 
 Charal. My griefs are now thus to be borne; 
 
 Hereafter I'll find time and place to mourn. 
 
 \Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE III. A Street. 
 Enter Romont and Pontalier. 
 Pont. I was bound to seek you, sir. 
 Rom. And, had you found me 
 In any place but in the street, I should 
 
 Have done, not talked to you. Are you, 
 
 the captain, 
 The hopeful Pontalier, whom I have seen 
 Do, in the field, such service as then made 
 
 you 
 
 Their envy that commanded, here, at home, 
 To play the parasite to a gilded knave, 
 And, it may be, the pander? 
 
 Pont. Without this, 
 I come to call you to account for what 
 Is past already. I, by your example 
 Of thankfulness to the dead general, 
 By whom you were raised, have practised to 
 
 be so 
 
 To my good lord Novall, by whom I live ; 
 Whose least disgrace that is or may be 
 
 offer'd, 
 
 With all the hazard of my life and fortunes 
 I will make good on you, or any man 
 That has a hand in't : and, since you allow 
 
 me 
 
 A gentleman and a soldier, there's no doubt 
 You will except against me. You shall meet 
 With a fair enemy : you understand 
 The right I look for, and must have? 
 
 Rom. I do ; 
 And with the next day's sun you shall hear 
 
 from me. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE IV. A Room in Charalois' House. 
 Enter Charalois with a casket, Beaumelle, 
 
 and Beaumont. 
 Charal. Pray bear this to my father, at 
 
 his leisure 
 He may peruse it ; but with your best 
 
 language 
 Entreat his instant presence. You have 
 
 sworn 
 Not to reveal what I have done. 
 
 Beau. Nor will I but 
 
 Charal. Doubt me not ; by heaven, I will 
 
 do nothing 
 But what may stand with honour. Pray 
 
 you, leave me [Exit Beaumont. 
 
 To my own thoughts. If this be to me, 
 
 rise ; [Beaumelle kneels. 
 
 I am not worth the looking on, but only 
 To feed contempt and scorn ; and that from 
 
 you, 
 Who, with the loss of your fair name have 
 
 caused it, 
 Were too much cruelty. 
 
 Bcanmel. I dare not move you 
 To hear me speak. I know my fault is far 
 Beyond qualification or excuse ; 
 That 'tis not fit for me to hope, or you 
 To think of mercy ; only I presume 
 To entreat you would be pleased to look 
 
 upon 
 
THE FATAL DOWRY. 
 
 379 
 
 My sorrow for it, and believe these tears 
 Are the true children of my grief, and not 
 A woman's cunning. 
 
 Charal. Can you, Beaumelle, 
 Having deceived so great a trust as mine, 
 Though I were all credulity, hope again 
 To get belief? No, no ; if you look on me 
 With pity, or dare practise any means 
 To make my sufferings less, or give just 
 
 cause 
 
 To all the world to think what I must do 
 Was call'd upon by you, use other ways : 
 Deny what I have seen, or justify 
 What you have done ; and, as you despe- 
 rately 
 Made shipwreck of your faith, to be a 
 
 whore, 
 
 Use the arms of such a one, and such de- 
 fence, 
 
 .And multiply the sin with impudence. 
 Stand boldly up, and tell me to my teeth, 
 That you have done but what is warranted 
 By great examples, in all places where 
 Women inhabit ; urge your own deserts, 
 Or want of me in merit ; tell me how 
 Your dower, from the low gulf of poverty, 
 Weighed up my fortunes to what they now 
 
 are : 
 That I was purchased by your choice and 
 
 practice, 
 To shelter you from shame, that you might 
 
 sin 
 
 As boldly as securely : that poor men 
 Are married to those wives that bring them 
 
 wealth, 
 One day their husbands, but observers 
 
 ever. 
 That when, by this proud usage, you have 
 
 blown 
 
 The fire of my just vengeance to the height, 
 I then may kill you, and yet say 'twas clone 
 In heat of blood, and after die myself, 
 To witness my repentance. 
 
 Beaumel. O my fate ! 
 
 That never would consent that I should see 
 How worthy you were both of love and duty, 
 Before I lost you ; and my misery made 
 The glass in which I now behold your virtue ! 
 While I was good, I was a part of you, 
 And of two, by the virtuous harmony 
 Of our fair minds, made one ; but, since I 
 
 wander'd 
 In the forbidden labyrinth of lust, 
 
 What was inseparable is by me divided. 
 
 With justice, therefore, you may cut me off, 
 And from your memory wash the remem- 
 brance 
 
 That e'er I was ; like to some vicious pur- 
 pose, 
 
 Which, in your better judgment, you re- 
 pent of, 
 And study to forget. 
 
 Charal. O Beaumelle, 
 That you can speak so well, and do so ill ! 
 But you had been too great a blessing, if 
 You had continued chaste : see, how you 
 
 force me 
 
 To this, because mine honour will not yield 
 That I again should love you. 
 
 Beaumel. In this life 
 
 It is not fit you should : yet you shall find, 
 Though I was bold enough to be a strumpet, 
 I dare not yet live one. Let those famed 
 
 matrons, 
 
 That are canonized worthy of our sex, 
 Transcend me in their sanctity of life ; 
 I yet will equal them in dying nobly, 
 Ambitious of no honour after life, 
 But that, when I am dead, you will forgive 
 
 me. 
 
 Charal. How pity steals upon me ! should 
 
 I hear her [Knocking within. 
 
 But ten words more, I were lost. One 
 
 knocks, go in. {Exit Beaumelle. 
 
 That to be merciful should be a sin ! 
 
 Enter Rochfort. 
 
 O, sir, most welcome ! Let me take your 
 
 cloak, 
 
 I must not be denied. Here are your robes, 
 As you love justice, once more put them on. 
 There is a cause to be determined of, 
 That does require such an integrity 
 As you have ever used. I'll put you to 
 The trial of your constancy and goodness : 
 And look that you, that have been eagle-eyed 
 In other men's affairs, prove not a mole 
 In what concerns yourself. Take you your 
 
 seat ; 
 I will be for you presently. [Exit. 
 
 Roch. Angels guard me ! 
 To what strange tragedy does this induction 
 Serve for a prologue ? 
 
 Re-enter Charalois, Beaumelle, and Beau- 
 mont, with Servants bearing the body of 
 Novall junior. 
 
 Charal. So, set it down before 
 The judgment seat [Exeunt Servants.] 
 and stand you at the bar : 
 
 \To Beaumelle. 
 For me, I am the accuser. 
 
 Roch. Novall slain ! 
 
 And Beaumelle, my daughter, in the place 
 Of one to be arraign'd ! 
 
 Charal. O, are you touch 'd ! 
 I find that I must take another course. 
 
THE FATAL 'DOWRY. 
 
 Fear nothing, I will only blind your eyes ; 
 
 \Hc binds his eyes. 
 
 For justice should do so, when 'tis to meet 
 An object that may sway her equal doom 
 From what it should be aim'd at. Good, 
 
 my lord, 
 A day of hearing. 
 
 Roch. It is granted, speak 
 
 You shall have justice. 
 
 Charal. I then here accuse, 
 i Most equal judge, the prisoner, your fair 
 
 daughter, 
 j For whom I owed so much to you ; your 
 
 daughter, 
 
 So worthy in her own parts, and that worth 
 Set forth by yours, to whose so rare per- 
 fections, 
 
 Truth witness with me, in the place of sen-ice 
 I almost paid idolatrous sacrifice, 
 To be a false adultress. 
 Roch. With whom ? 
 
 Charal. With this Novall here dead. 
 Roch. Be well advised ; 
 And ere you say adnltress again, 
 Her fame depending on it, be most sure 
 That she is one. 
 
 Charal. I took them in the act : 
 '' I know no proof beyond it. 
 Roch. O my heart ! 
 
 Charal. A judge should feel no passions. 
 Roch. Yet remember 
 He is a man, and cannot put off nature. 
 What answer makes the prisoner? 
 
 Beaumel. I confess 
 
 The fact I am charged with, and yield my- 
 self 
 Most miserably guilty. 
 
 Roch. Heaven take mercy 
 Upon your soul, then ! it must leave jour 
 
 body. 
 
 i Now free mine eyes ; I dare unmoved look 
 on her, [Charalois unbinds his eyes. 
 And fortify my sentence with strong reasons. 
 Since that the politic law provides that ser- 
 vants, 
 ! To whose care we commit our goods, shall 
 
 die 
 : If they abuse our trust, what can you look 
 
 for, 
 To whose charge this most hopeful lord 
 
 gave up 
 
 All he received from his brave ancestors, 
 Or he could leave to his posterity, 
 His honour, wicked woman ! in whose safety 
 All his life's joys and comforts were lock'd 
 
 up, 
 Which thy . . . lust, a thief, hath now 
 
 stolen'from him ; 
 And therefore 
 
 Charal. Stay, just judge : may not what's 
 
 lost 
 
 By her one fault, (for I am charitable, 
 And charge her not with many,) be for- 
 gotten 
 In her fair life hereafter? 
 
 Roch. Never, sir. 
 
 The wrong that's done to the chaste married- 
 bed, 
 
 Repentant tears can never expiate ; 
 And be assured, to pardon such a sin,. 
 Is an offence as great as to commit it. 
 
 Charal. I may not then forgive her ? 
 
 Roch. Nor she hope it. 
 Nor can she wish to live : no sun shall rise, 
 But, ere it set, shall shew her ugly lust 
 In a new shape, and every one more horrid. 
 Nay, even those prayers which, with sucbr 
 
 humble fervour, 
 
 Sheseems to send up yonder, are beat back. 
 And all suits which her penitence can 
 
 proffer, 
 As soon as made, are with contempt thrown. 
 
 out 
 Of all the courts of mercy. 
 
 Charal. Let her die, then ! 
 
 [He, sfabs her. . 
 Better prepared, I'm sure, I could not take 
 
 her, 
 
 Nor she accuse her father, as a judge 
 Partial against her. 
 
 Beaumel. I approve his sentence, 
 And kiss the executioner. My lust 
 Is now run from me in that blood in which 
 It was begot and nourish 'd. [Dies. 
 
 Roch. Is she dead, then ? 
 
 Charal. Yes, sir ; this is her heart-blood,, 
 
 is it not ? 
 I think it be. 
 
 Roch. And you have kill'd her ? 
 
 Charal. True, 
 And did it by your doom. 
 
 Roch. But I pronounced it 
 As a judge only, and a friend to justice ; 
 And, zealous in defence of your wrong'd" 
 
 honour, 
 
 Broke all the ties of nature, and cast off 
 The love and soft affection of a father. 
 I, in your cause, put on a scarlet robe 
 Of red-dyed cruelty ; but in return, 
 You have advanced for me no flag of mercy. 
 I look'd on you as a wrong'd husband ; but 
 You closed your eyes against me as a father. 
 O Beaumelle ! my daughter ! 
 
 Charal. This is madness. 
 
 Roch. Keep from me! Could not one- 
 
 good thought rise up, 
 To tell you that she was my age's comfort, 
 Begot by a weak man, and born a woman, 
 
THE FATAL DOWRY. 
 
 And could not, therefore, but partake of 
 frailty? 
 
 Or wherefore did not thankfulness step forth, 
 
 To urge my many merits, which I may 
 
 Object unto you, since you prove ungrateful, 
 
 Flint-hearted Charalois ! 
 
 Charal. Nature does prevail 
 
 Above your virtue. 
 
 Rock. No ; it gives me eyes 
 
 To pierce the heart of your design against 
 me : 
 
 I find it now, it was my state was aim'd at. 
 
 A nobler match was sought for, and the 
 hours 
 
 I lived grew tedious to you : my compassion 
 
 Tow'rds you hath render'd me most mise- 
 rable, 
 
 And foolish charity undone myself. 
 
 But there's a heaven above, from whose just 
 wreak 
 
 No mists of policy can hide offenders. 
 Nov. sen. [within.'} Force ope the doors ! 
 
 Enter Novall senior, with Officers. 
 
 O monster ! cannibal ! 
 Lay hold on him. My son, my son ! O 
 
 Rochfort, 
 'Twas you gave liberty to this bloody wolf, 
 
 To worry all our comforts : but this is 
 
 No time to quarrel ; now give your assis- 
 tance 
 
 For the revenge 
 
 Ruch. Call it a fitter name, 
 Justice for innocent blood. 
 
 Charal. Though all conspire 
 Against that life which I am weary of, 
 A little longer yet I'll strive to keep it, 
 To shew, in spite of malice and their laws, 
 His plea must speed, that hath an honest 
 cause. [Exeunt. 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 SCENE I. A Street. 
 Enter Tailor, and two Bailiffs with. 
 
 Liladam. 
 
 Lilad. Why, 'tis both most unconscion- 
 able and untimely, 
 
 To arrest a gallant for his clotfres, before 
 He has worn them out : besides, you said 
 
 you ask'd 
 My name in my lord's bond but for form 
 
 only, 
 And now you'll lay me up for't ! Do not 
 
 think 
 
 The taking measure of a customer 
 By a brace of varlets, though I rather wait 
 Never so patiently, will prove a fashion 
 
 Which any courtier or inns-of-court-man 
 Would follow willingly. 
 
 Tail. There I believe you. 
 But, sir, I must have present monies, or 
 Assurance to secure me when I shall ; 
 Or I will see to your coming forth. 
 
 Lilad. Plague on't ! 
 You have provided for my entrance in ; 
 That coming forth you talk of, concerns me. 
 What shall I do ? you have done me a dis- 
 grace 
 
 In the arrest, but more in giving cause 
 To all the street to think I cannot stand 
 Without these two supporters for my arms. 
 Pray you, let them loose me : for their satis- 
 faction, 
 I will not run away. 
 
 Tail. For theirs, you will not ; 
 But for your own, you would. Look to him, 
 
 fellows. 
 Lilad. Why, do you call them fellows? 
 
 do not wrong 
 
 Your reputation so. As you are merely 
 A tailor, faithful, apt to believe in gallants, 
 You are a companion at a ten-crown supper, 
 For cloth of bodkin, and may, with one lark, 
 Eat up three manchets, and no man observe 
 
 you, 
 Or call your trade in question for't. But, 
 
 when 
 
 You study your debt-book, and hold corre- 
 spondence 
 
 With officers of the hanger, and leave swords- 
 men, 
 The learn'd conclude, the tailor and the ser- 
 
 jeant, 
 
 In the expression of a knave and thief, 
 To be synonyma. Look, therefore, to it, 
 And let us part in peace ; I would be loth 
 You should undo yourself. 
 
 Enter Novall senior, and Pontalier. 
 
 Tail. To let you go, 
 Were the next way. But see ! here's your 
 
 old lord ; 
 
 Let him but give his word I shall be paid, 
 And you are free. 
 
 Lilad. 'Slid ! I will put him to't. 
 I can be but denied ; or what say you ? 
 His lordship owing me three times your debt, 
 If you arrest him at my suit, and let me 
 Go run before, to see the action enter'd : 
 'Twould be a witty jest ! 
 
 Tail. I must have earnest : 
 I cannot pay my debts so. 
 
 Pont. Can your lordship 
 Imagine, while I live, and wear a sword, 
 Yorr son's death shall be unrevenged? 
 
 A O'j. sen. I know not 
 
332 
 
 THE FATAL DOWRY. 
 
 One reason why you should not do like 
 
 others : 
 
 I am sure, of all the herd that fed upon him, 
 I cannot see in any, now he's gone, 
 In pity or in thankfulness, one true sign 
 Of sorrow for him. 
 
 Pant. All his bounties yet, 
 Fell not in such unthankful ground : 'tis true, 
 He had weaknesses, but such as few are free 
 
 from ; 
 And, though none sooth'd them less than I, 
 
 .(for now 
 
 To say that I foresaw the dangers that 
 Would rise from cherishing them, were but 
 
 untimely,) 
 
 I yet could wish the justice that you seek for, 
 In the revenge, had been trusted to me, 
 And not the uncertain issue of the laws. 
 It has robb'd me of a noble testimony 
 Of what I durst do for him : but, however, 
 My forfeit liferedeem'd by him, though dead, 
 Shall do him service. 
 
 Nov. sen. As far as my grief 
 Will give me leave, I thank you. 
 
 Lilad. O, my lord ! 
 Oh, my good lord ! deliver me from these 
 
 Furies. 
 Pont. Arrested ! this is one of them, 
 
 whose base 
 
 And abject flattery help'd to dig his gra' 
 He is not worth your pity, nor my anger.' 
 Go to the basket, and repent. 
 
 Nov. sen. Away ! 
 
 I only know thee now to hate thee deadly : 
 I will do nothing for thee. 
 Lilad. Nor you, captain ? 
 Pont. No ; to your trade again ; put off 
 
 this case : 
 
 It may be, the discovering what you were, 
 When your unfortunate master took you up, 
 May move compassion in your creditor. 
 Confess the truth. 
 
 [Exeunt Xovall sen. and Pontalier. 
 Lilad. And now I think on't better, 
 I will. Brother, your hand ; your hand, 
 
 sweet brother ": 
 I'm of your sect, and my gallantry but a 
 
 dream, 
 
 Out of which these two fearful apparitions, 
 Against my will, have waked me. This 
 
 rich sword, 
 
 Grew suddenly out of a tailor's bodkin ; 
 These hangers, from my vails and fees in 
 
 hell; 
 
 And where as now this beaver sits, full often 
 A thrifty cap, composed of broad-cloth lists, 
 Near-kin unto the cushion where I sat, 
 Cross-legg'd, and yet ungarter'd, hath been 
 
 seen : 
 
 Our breakfasts, famous for the butter'd 
 
 loaves, 
 
 I have with joy been oft acquainted with ; 
 And therefore use a conscience, though it be 
 Forbidden in our hall towards other men, 
 To me, that, as I have been, will again 
 Be of the brotherhood. 
 
 i Bail. I know him now ; 
 He was a prentice to Le Robe at Orleans. 
 Lilad. And from thence brought by my 
 
 young lord, now dead, 
 Unto Dijon, and with him, till this hour, 
 Have been received here for a complete 
 
 monsieur ; 
 
 Nor wonder at it ; for but tithe our gallants, 
 Even those of the first rank, and you will find 
 In every ten, one, peradventure two, 
 That smell rank of the dancing-school or 
 
 ' fiddle, 
 
 The pantofle, or pressing-iron : but here- 
 after 
 
 We'll talk of this. I will surrender up 
 My suits again, there cannot be much loss -, 
 'Tis but the turning of the lace, with one 
 Addition more you know of, and what wants, 
 I will work out. 
 
 Tail. Then here our quarrel ends : 
 The gallant is turn'd tailor, and all friends. 
 
 \Exeunt~ 
 
 SCENE II. The Court of Justice. 
 Enter Romont and Beaumont. 
 
 Rom. You have them ready? 
 
 Beau. Yes, and they will speak 
 Their knowledge in this cause, when you 
 
 think fit 
 To have them call'd upon. 
 
 Rom. 'Tis well ; and something 
 I can add to their evidence, to prove 
 This brave revenge, which they would have 
 
 call'd murder, 
 A noble justice. 
 
 Beau. In this you express 
 (The breach by my lord's want of you new- 
 made up) 
 A faithful friend. 
 
 Rom. That friendship's raised on sand. 
 Which every sudden gust of discontent, 
 Or flowing of our passions, caa change, 
 As if it ne'er had been : but do you know 
 Who are to sit on him ? 
 
 Beau. Monsieur Du Croy, 
 Assisted by Charmi. 
 
 Rom. The advocate 
 That pleaded for the marshal's funeral, 
 And was check 'd for it by Novall ? 
 
 Beau. The same. 
 
 Rom. How fortunes that ? 
 
 Beau. Why, sir, my lord Novall, 
 
THE FATAL DOWRY. 
 
 383^ 
 
 Being the accuser, cannot be the judge ; 
 Nor would grieved Rochfort, but lord Chara- 
 
 lois, 
 
 However he might wrong him by his power, 
 Should have an equal hearing. 
 
 Rom. By my hopes 
 Of Charalois's acquittal, I lament 
 That reverend old man's fortune. 
 
 Beau. Had you seen him, 
 
 My thankfulness that still lives ro the dead,.. 
 I look upon you now with more true joy, 
 Than when I saw you married. 
 
 Charal. You have reason 
 To give you warrant for't : my falling off 
 From such a friendship, with the scorn that 
 
 answered 
 Your too prophetic counsel, may well move 
 
 you 
 To think your meeting me, going to my 
 
 death, 
 
 A fit encounter for that hate which justly 
 I have deserved from you. 
 Rom. Shall I still, then, 
 Speak truth, and be ill understood ? 
 
 Charal. You are not. 
 
 I am conscious I have wrong'd you : and: 
 allow me, 
 
 As, to my grief, I have, now promise 
 patience, 
 
 And, ere it was believed, though spake by 
 him 
 
 That never brake his word, enraged again 
 
 So far as to make war upon those hairs, 
 
 Which not a barbarous Scythian durst pre- 
 sume 
 
 To touch, but with a superstitious fear, 
 
 As something sacred ; and then curse his > Only a moral man ; to look on you, 
 
 daughter, I Whom foolishly I have abused and injured,, 
 
 But with more frequent violence, himself, j Must of necessity be more terrible to me, 
 
 As if he had been guilty of her fault, j Than any death the judges can pronounce, 
 
 By being incredulous of your report, j From the tribunal which I am to plead at. 
 
 You would not only judge him worthy pity, j Rom. Passion transports you. 
 
 But suffer with him : but here comes the i Charal. For what I have done 
 prisoner ; ! To my false lady, or Novall, I can 
 
 : Give some apparent cause ; but touching 
 Enter Officers with Charalois. u 
 
 I dare not stay to do my duty to him ; \ In my defence, child-like, I can say nothing 
 
 Yet, rest assured, all possible means in me | But, I am sorry for't ; a poor satisfaction ! 
 
 To do him service, keeps you company. 
 
 Rom. It is not doubted. 
 
 Charal. Why, yet as I came hither, 
 The people, apt to mock calamity, 
 And tread on the oppress'd, made no horns 
 
 at me, 
 Though they are too familiar I deserve them. 
 
 And, knowing too what blood my sword hath 
 
 drunk, 
 
 In wreak of that disgrace, they yet forbear 
 To shake their heads, or to revile me for 
 A murderer ; they rather all put on, 
 As for great losses the old Romans used, 
 A general face of sorrow, waited on 
 By a sad murmur breaking through their 
 
 silence : 
 
 And no eye but was readier with a tear 
 To witness 'twas shed for me, than I could 
 Discern a face made up with scorn against 
 
 me. 
 
 I And yet, mistake me not ; for it is more 
 \_Exit. I Than I will speak, to have my pardon sign'd' 
 For all I stand accused of. 
 Rom. You much weaken 
 The strength of your good cause, should you. 
 
 but think, 
 
 A man for doing well could entertain 
 A pardon, were it offer'd : you have given 
 
 To blind and slow-paced justice wings and. 
 
 eyes, 
 
 To see and overtake impieties, 
 Which, from a cold proceeding, had received- 
 Indulgence or protection. 
 Charal. Think you so ? 
 Rom. Upon my soul ! nor should the blood 
 
 you challenged, 
 And took to cure your honour, breed more 
 
 scruple 
 
 In your soft conscience, than if your sword 
 Had been sheath'd in a tiger or she-bear, 
 
 That in their bowels would have made your 
 Why should I, then, though for unusual '; tomb. 
 
 wrongs, : To injure innocence is more than murder : 
 
 I chose unusual means to right those ; But when inhuman lusts transform us, then' 
 
 wrongs, I As beasts we are to suffer, not like men 
 
 Condemn myself, as over-partial ' To be lamented. Nor did Charalois ever 
 
 In my own cause ? Romont ! Perform an act so worthy the applause 
 
 Rom. Best friend, well met 
 By my heart's love to you, and join to that, 
 
 Of a full theatre of perfect men, 
 
 As he hath done in this. The glory got 
 
384 
 
 THE FATAL 'DOWRY. 
 
 By overthrowing outward enemies, 
 
 Since strength and fortune are main sharers 
 
 in it, 
 
 i We cannot, but by pieces, call our own : 
 But, when we conquer our intestine foes, 
 Our passions bred within us, and of those 
 The most rebellious tyrant, powerful love, 
 Our reason suffering us to like no longer 
 Than the fair object, being good, deserves it, 
 That's a true victory ! which, were great men 
 Ambitious to achieve, by your example 
 Setting no price upon the breach of faith, 
 But loss of life, 'twould fright adultery 
 Out of their families, and make lust appear 
 As loathsome to us in the first consent, 
 As when 'tis waited on by punishment. 
 Charal. You have confirm'd me. Who 
 
 would love a woman, 
 That might enjoy in such a man a friend ! 
 You have made me know the justice of my 
 
 cause, 
 
 And mark'd me out the way how to defend it. 
 
 Rom. Continue to that resolution constant, 
 
 And you shall, in contempt of their worst 
 
 malice, 
 
 Come off with honour here they come. 
 Charal. I am ready. 
 
 Enter Du Croy, Charmi, Rochfort, Novall 
 senior, Pontalier, and Beaumont. 
 
 Nov. sen. See, equal judges, with what 
 
 confidence 
 
 The cruel murderer stands, as if he would 
 Outface the court and justice ! 
 
 Roch. But look on him, 
 And you shall find, for still methinks I do, 
 Though guilt hath dyed him black, some- 
 thing good in him, 
 
 That may perhaps work with a wiser man 
 That I have been, again to set him free, 
 And give him all he has. 
 
 Char. This is not well. 
 I would you had lived so, my lord, that I 
 Might rather have continued your poor ser- 
 vant, 
 Than sit here as your judge. 
 
 Du Croy. I am sorry for you. 
 
 Roch. In no act of my life I have deserved 
 This injury from the court, that any here, 
 Should thus uncivilly usurp on what 
 Is proper to me only. 
 
 Du Croy. What distaste 
 Receives my lord ? 
 
 Roch. You say you are sorry for him ; 
 A grief in which I must not have a partner. 
 'Tis I alone am sorry, that when I raised 
 The building of my life, for seventy years, 
 Upon so sure a ground, that all the vices 
 
 Practised to ruin man, though brought 
 
 against me. 
 
 Could never undermine, and no way left 
 To send these gray hairs to the grave with 
 
 sorrow, 
 
 Virtue, that was my patroness, betray'd me. 
 For, entering, nay, possessing this young 
 
 man, 
 
 It lent him such a powerful majesty 
 To grace whate'er he undertook, that freely 
 I gave myself up, with my liberty, 
 To be at his disposing. Had his person, 
 Lovely I must confess, or far-famed valour, 
 Or any other seeming good, that yet 
 Holds a near neighbourhood w r ith ill, wrought 
 
 on me, 
 I might have borne it better : but, when 
 
 goodness 
 
 And piety itself in her best figure 
 Were bribed to my destruction, can you 
 
 blame me, 
 
 Though I forget to suffer like a man, 
 Or rather act a woman ? 
 Beau. Good, my lord ! 
 Nov. sen. You hinder our proceeding. 
 Char. And forget 
 The parts of an accuser. 
 
 Beau. Pray you, remember 
 To use the temper which to me you promised. 
 Roch. Angels themselves must break, Beau- 
 mont, that promise 
 
 Beyond the strength and patience of angels. 
 But I have done : My good lord, pardon 
 
 me, 
 
 A weak old man, and pray you, add to that, 
 A miserable father ; yet be careful 
 That your compassion of my age, nor his, 
 Move you to anything that may disbecome 
 The place on which you sit. 
 Char. Read the indictment. 
 Charal. It shall be needless ; I myself, my I 
 
 lords, 
 
 Will be my own accuser, and confess 
 All they can charge me with, nor will I spare 
 To aggravate that guilt with circumstance, 
 They seek to load me with ; only I pray, 
 That, as for them you will vouchsafe me 
 
 hearing, 
 I may 
 
 Not be denied it for mj'self, when I 
 Shall urge by what unanswerable reasons 
 I was compell'd to what I did, which yet, 
 Till you have taught me better, I repent not. 
 Roch. The motion's honest. 
 Char. And 'tis freely granted. 
 Charal. Then I confess, my lords, that I 
 
 stood bound, 
 When, with my friends, even hope itself had 
 
 left me, 
 
THE FATAL DOWRY. 
 
 385 
 
 To this man's charity, for my liberty ; 
 Nor did his bounty end there, but began : 
 For, after my enlargement, cherishing 
 The good he did, he made me master of 
 His only daughter, and his whole estate. 
 Great ties of thankfulness, I must acknow- 
 ledge : 
 Could any one, fee'd by you, press this 
 
 further? 
 
 But yet consider, my most honour'd lords, 
 If to receive a favour make a servant, 
 And benefits are bonds to tie the taker 
 To the imperious will of him that gives, 
 There's none but slaves will receive courtesies, 
 Since they must fetter us to our dishonours. 
 Can it be call'd magnificence in a prince, 
 To pour down riches with a liberal hand 
 Upon a poor man's wants, if that must bind 
 
 him 
 
 To play the soothing parasite to his vices ? 
 Or any man, because he saved my hand, 
 Presume my head and heart are at his service? 
 Or, did I stand engaged to buy my freedom 
 (When my captivity was honourable) 
 By making myself here, and fame hereafter, 
 Bondslaves to men's scorn, and calumnious 
 
 tongues ? 
 Had his fair daughter's mind been like her 
 
 feature, 
 
 Or, for some little blemish, I had sought 
 For my content elsewhere, wasting on others 
 My body and her dower ; my forehead then 
 Deserved the brand of base ingratitude : 
 But if obsequious usage, and fair warning 
 To keep her worth my love, could not pre- 
 serve her 
 From being a whore, and yet no cunning 
 
 one, 
 
 So to offend, and yet the fault kept from me, 
 What should I do ? Let any free-born spirit 
 Determine truly, if that thankfulness, 
 Choice form, with the whole world given 
 
 for a dowry, 
 Could strengthen so an honest man with 
 
 patience, 
 
 As with a willing neck to undergo 
 The insupportable yoke of slave, or wittol. 
 Char. What proof have you she did play 
 
 false, besides 
 Your oath ? 
 
 Charal. Her own confession to her father: 
 I ask him for a witness. 
 Roch. Tis most true. 
 I would not willingly blend my last words 
 With an untruth. 
 
 Charal. And then to clear myself, 
 That his great wealth was not the mark I 
 
 shot at, 
 But that I held it, when fair Beaumelle 
 
 Fell from her virtue, like the fatal gold 
 Which Brennus took from Delphos, whose 
 
 possession 
 
 Brought with it ruin to himself and army : 
 Here's one in court, Beaumont, by whom I 
 
 sent 
 All grants and writings back which made itt 
 
 mine, 
 Before his daughter died by his own sen> 
 
 tence, 
 
 As freely as, unask'd, he gave it to me. 
 Beau. They are here to be seen. 
 Char. Open the casket. 
 
 Peruse that deed of gift. [To Du Croy^ 
 
 Rom. Half of the danger 
 Already is discharged ; the other part 
 As bravely ; and you are not only free 
 But crown'd with praise for ever ! 
 Du Croy. 'Tis apparent. 
 Char. Your state, my lord, again is yours, 
 Roch. Not mine ; 
 
 I am not of the world. If it can prosper, 
 (And yet, being justly got, I'll not examine 
 Why it should be so fatal, ) do you bestow it 
 On pious uses : I'll go seek a grave. 
 And yet, for proof I die in peace, your 
 
 pardon 
 
 I ask ; and, as you grant it me, may heaven. 
 Your conscience, and these judges, free you 
 
 from 
 What you are charged with ! So, farewell 
 
 for ever ! \Exil. 
 
 Nov. sen. I'll be mine own guide. Passion 
 
 nor example 
 
 Shall be my leaders. I have lost a son, 
 A son, grave judges ; I require his blood 
 From his accursed homicide. 
 
 Char. What reply you, 
 In your defence, for this? 
 Charal. I but attended 
 Your lordship's pleasure. For the fact, as of 
 The former, I confess it ; but with what 
 Base wrongs I was unwillingly drawn to it, 
 To my few words there are some other 
 
 proofs, 
 To witness this for truth. When I was 
 
 married, 
 
 For there I must begin, the slain Novall 
 Was to my wife, in way of our French 
 
 courtship, 
 
 A most devoted servant ; but yet aimed at 
 Nothing but means to quench his wanton 
 
 heat, 
 
 His heart being never warm'd by lawful fires. 
 As mine was, lords : and though, on these 
 
 presumptions, 
 Join'd to the hate between his house and 
 
 mine, 
 
 I might, with opportunity and ease, 
 c c 
 
3 86 
 
 THE FATAL DOWRY. 
 
 Have found a way for my revenge, I did 
 
 not ; 
 
 But still he had the freedom as before, 
 When all was mine : and, told that he 
 
 abused it 
 
 With some unseemly license, by my friend, 
 My approved friend, Romont, I gave no 
 
 credit 
 
 To the reporter, but reproved him for it, 
 As one uncourtly, and malicious to him. 
 What could I more, my lords ? Yet, after 
 
 this, 
 
 He did continue in his first pursuit, 
 Hotter than ever, and at length obtain'd it ; 
 But, how it came to my most certain know- 
 ledge, 
 For the dignity of the court, and my own 
 
 honour, 
 I dare not say. 
 
 Nov. sen. If all may be believed 
 A passionate prisoner speaks, who is so 
 
 foolish 
 That durst be wicked, that will appear 
 
 guilty? 
 
 No, my grave lords ; in his impunity, 
 Hut give example unto jealous men 
 To cut the throats they hate, and they will 
 
 never 
 Want matter or pretence for their bad 
 
 ends. 
 Char. You must find other proofs to 
 
 strengthen these 
 i feut mere presumptions. 
 
 Du Croy. Or we shall hardly 
 Allow your innocence. 
 
 Charal. All your attempts 
 < Shall fall on me like brittle shafts on armour, 
 That break themselves ; or waves against a 
 
 rock, 
 
 That leave no sign of their ridiculous fury, 
 But foam and splinters ; my innocence, like 
 
 these, 
 ^hall stand triumphant, and your malice 
 
 serve 
 
 But for a trumpet to proclaim my conquest. 
 Nor shall you, though you do the worst fate 
 
 can, 
 
 Howe'er condemn, affright an honest man 
 Rom. May it please the court, I may be 
 
 heard ? 
 
 Nov. sen. You come not 
 , To rail again ? but do you shall not find 
 Another Rochfort. 
 
 Rom. In Novall I cannot ; 
 ! But I come furnished with what will stop 
 , The mouth of his conspiracy 'gainst the 
 
 life 
 
 , Of innocent Charalois. Do you know this 
 character? 
 
 Nov. sen. Yes, 'tis my son's. 
 
 Rom. May it please you lordships, read 
 
 it: 
 And you shall find there, with what vehe- 
 
 mency 
 
 He did solicit Beaumelle ; how he got 
 A promise from her to enjoy his wishes ; 
 How after, he abjured her company, 
 And yet but that 'tis fit I spare the dead 
 Like a damn'd villain, as soon as recorded, 
 He brake that oath : to make this manifest, 
 Produce his bawds and hers. 
 
 Enter Officers with Aymer, Florimel, and 
 Bellapert. 
 
 Char. Have they ta'en their oaths ? 
 Rom. They have, and, rather than endure 
 
 the rack, 
 
 "onfess the time, the meeting, nay, the act ; 
 What would you more? only this matron 
 
 made 
 
 A free discovery to a good end ; 
 And therefore I sue to the court, she may not 
 Be placed in the black list of the delinquents. 
 Pont. I see by this, Novall's revenge 
 needs me, 
 
 And I shall do [Aside. 
 
 Char. 'Tis evident. 
 Nov. sen. That I 
 Till now was never wretched ; here's nc 
 
 place 
 To curse him or my stars. [Exit, 
 
 Char. Lord Charalois, 
 The injuries you have sustain'd appear 
 So worthy of the mercy of the court, 
 That, notwithstanding you have gone be 
 
 yond 
 
 The letter of the law, they yet acquit you. 
 Pont. But, in Novall, I do condemn liin 
 thus. [Stabs him 
 
 Charal. I am slain. 
 Rom. Can I look on? Oh, murderou: 
 
 wretch ! 
 
 Thy challenge now I answer. So ! die witl 
 him. [Stabs Pontalier 
 
 Char. A guard ! disarm him. 
 Rom. I yield up my sword 
 Unforced Oh, Charalois. 
 
 Charal. For shame, Romont, 
 Mourn not for him that dies as he hath lived 
 Still constant and unmoved : what's fall'i 
 
 upon me 
 
 Is by heaven's will, because I made myself 
 A judge in my own cause, without thei 
 
 warrant ; 
 But He that lets me know thus much ii 
 
 death, 
 With all good men forgive me ! [Dies 
 
A New Way to Pay Old Debts. 
 
 DRAMATIS 
 Lord Lovcll. 
 
 Sir Giles Cverreach, a cruel extortioner. 
 Frank Wellborn, a prodigal. 
 Tom Allworth, a young gentleman, page to 
 
 LordLovell. 
 
 Greedy, a hungry justice of peace. 
 Marrall. a term-driver; a creature 0/Sir 
 
 Giles Overreach. 
 Order, steward \ 
 
 Watchall, porter 
 
 PERSONS. 
 
 Willdo, a parson 
 
 Tapwell, an alehouse keeper. 
 
 Creditors, Servants, &c. 
 
 Lady Allworth, a rich widow. 
 
 Margaret, Overreach's daughter. 
 
 Froth, Tapwell's wife. 
 
 Chambermaid. 
 
 Waiting Woman. 
 
 SCENE, The country near Nottingham. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 SCENE I. Before Tapwell's House. 
 Enter Wellborn in tattered apparel, Tap- 
 well, and Froth. 
 
 Well. No bouse ? nor no tobacco ? 
 Tap. Not a suck, sir ; 
 Nor the remainder of a single can 
 Left by a drunken porter, all night pall'd too. 
 Froth. Not the dropping of the tap for 
 
 your morning's draught, sir : 
 Tb verity, I assure you. 
 
 Well. Verity, YOU brache! 
 he devil turn'd precis 
 
 The devil turn'd precisian ! Rogue, what 
 
 am I? 
 
 Tap. Troth, durst I trust you with a look- 
 ing-glass, 
 To let you see your trim shape, you would 
 
 quit me, 
 
 And take the name yourself. 
 Well. How, dog ! 
 Tap. Even so, sir. 
 
 And I must tell you, if you but advance 
 Your Plymouth cloak, you shall be soon in- 
 structed 
 There dwells, and within call, if it please 
 
 your worship, 
 
 A potent monarch, call'd the constable, 
 That does command a citadel call'd the 
 
 stocks; 
 Whose guards are certain files of ratty 
 
 bill men, 
 Such as with great dexterity will hale 
 
 Your tatter 'd, lousy 
 
 Well. Rascal ! slave I 
 Froth. No rage, sir. 
 
 Tap. At his own peril : Do not put your- 
 self 
 
 In too much heat, thre being no water near 
 To quench your thirst ; and sure, for other 
 
 liquor, 
 As mighty ale, or beer, they are things, I 
 
 take it, 
 You must no more remember ; not in a 
 
 dream, sir. 
 Well. Why, thou unthankful villain, 
 
 dar'st thou talk thus ! 
 
 Is not thy house, and all thou hast, my gift ? 
 Tap. I find it not in chalk ; and Timothy 
 
 Tapwell 
 Does keep no other register. 
 
 Well. Am not I he 
 Whose riots fed and clothed thee ? wert thou 
 
 not 
 
 Born on my father's land, and proud to be 
 A drudge in his house ? 
 
 Tap. What I was, sir, it skills not ; 
 What you are, is apparent : now, for a 
 
 farewell, 
 Since you talk of father, in my hope it will 
 
 torment you, 
 
 I'll briefly tell your story. Your dead father, 
 My quondam master, was a man of worship. 
 Old Sir John Wellborn, justice of peace and 
 
 quorum. 
 
 And stood fair to be custos rotulorum ; 
 Bore the whole sway of the shire, kept a 
 
 great house, 
 Relieved the poor, and so forth ; bat he 
 
 And the twelve hundred a year coming to 
 you, 
 
THE FATAL DOWRY. 
 
 3*7 
 
 Pont. I receive 
 Tic vengeance which my love, not built on 
 
 virtue. 
 Has made me worthy, worthy of. [Dies. 
 
 Char. We are taught 
 By this sad precedent, how just soever 
 Our reasons are to remedy our wrongs, 
 , We are vet to leave them to their will and 
 
 power 
 That, to that purpose, have authority. 
 
 For you. Romont. although in your exec 
 You mav plead what you did was in 
 
 , You may plead what you 
 venge 
 
 Of the dishonour done unto the court, 
 
 Yet. since from us you had not warrant for it. 
 We banish you the state : for these, they 
 
 shall, 
 
 As they are found guilty or innocent, 
 Or be set free, or suffer punishment. 
 
 \Exe**t. 
 
A NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBT&C 
 
 3S9 
 
 Late master Francis, but now forlorn Well- 
 born 
 
 Well. Slave, stop ! or I shall lose myself. 
 Froth. Very hardly ; 
 You cannot out of your way. 
 
 Tap. But to my story : 
 You were then a lord of acres, the prime 
 
 gallant, 
 And I your under butler ; note the change 
 
 now : 
 You had a merry time of 't ; hawks and 
 
 hounds, 
 
 With choice of running horses : mistresses 
 Of all sorts and all sizes, yet so hot, 
 As their embraces made your lordships melt ; 
 Which your uncle, Sir Giles Overreach, ob- 
 serving, 
 
 (Resolving not to lose a drop of them,) 
 On foolish mortgages, statutes, and bonds, 
 For a while supplied your looseness, and 
 
 then left you. 
 
 Well. Some curate hath penn'd this in- 
 vective, mongrel, 
 And you have studied it. 
 
 Tap. I have not done yet : 
 Your land gone, and your credit not worth 
 
 a token, 
 You grew the common borrower ; no man 
 
 scaped 
 
 Your paper-pellets, from the gentleman 
 To the beggars on highways, that sold you 
 
 switches 
 In your gallantry. 
 
 Well. I shall switch your brains out. 
 Tap. Where poor Tim Tapwell, with a 
 
 little stock, 
 Some forty pounds or so, bought a small 
 
 cottage ; 
 
 Humbled, myself to marriage with my Froth 
 here, 
 
 Gave entertainment 
 
 Well. Yes, to whores and canters, 
 Clubbers by night. 
 
 Tap. True, but they brought in profit, 
 And had a gift to pay for what they called 
 
 for; 
 And stuck not like your mastership. The 
 
 poor income 
 I glean'd from them hath made me in my 
 
 parish 
 
 Thought worthy to be scavenger, and in time 
 May rise to be overseer of the poor ; 
 Which if I do, on your petition, Wellborn, 
 I may allow you thirteen-pence a quarter," 
 And you shall thank my worship. 
 Well. Thus, you dog-bolt, 
 
 And thus [Beats and kicks him. 
 
 Tap. [to his wife.] Cry out for help ! 
 Well. Stir, and thou diest : 
 
 Your potent prince, the constable, shall not 
 
 save you. # 
 
 Hear me, ungrateful hell-hound ! did not I 
 Make purses for you ? then you lick'd my 
 
 boots, 
 And thought your holiday cloak too coarse 
 
 to clean them. 
 
 'Twas I that, when I heard thee swear if ever 
 Thou couldst arrive at forty pounds, thou 
 
 wouldst 
 
 Live like an emperor, 'twas I that gave it 
 In ready gold. Deny this, wretch ! 
 
 Tap. I must, sir ; 
 
 For, from the tavern to the taphouse, all, 
 On forfeiture of their licenses, stand bound 
 Ne'er to rememberwho their best guests were, 
 If they grew poor like you. 
 
 Well. They are well rewarded 
 That beggar themselves to make such cuck- 
 
 olds rich. 
 Thou viper, thankless viper ! impudent 
 
 bawd ! 
 
 But since you are grown forgetful, I will help 
 Your memory, and. tread you into mortar ; 
 Not leave one bone unbroken. 
 
 [Beats him again. 
 
 Frotti. Ask mercy. 
 
 Enter Allworth. 
 
 Well. Twill not be granted. 
 All. Hold, for my sake hold. 
 Deny me, Frank ! they are not worth your 
 
 anger. 
 Well. For once thou hast redeem'd them 
 
 from this sceptre ; 
 
 But let them vanish, creeping on their knees, 
 And, if they grumble, I revoke my pardon. 
 Froth. This comes of your prating, hus- 
 
 band ; you presumed 
 On your ambling wit, and must use your 
 
 glib tongue, 
 Though you are beaten lame for't. 
 
 Tap. Patience, Froth ; 
 There's law to cure our bruises. 
 
 [They crawl off on their hands and knees. 
 Well. Sent to your mother? 
 All. My lady, Frank, my patroness, my 
 
 all! 
 
 She's such a mourner for my father's death, 
 And, in her love to him, so favours me, 
 That I cannot pay too much observance to 
 
 her : 
 There are few such stepdames. 
 
 Well. 'Tis a noble widow, 
 And keeps her reputation pure, and clear 
 From the least taint of infamy ; her life, 
 With the splendour of her actions, leaves no 
 tongue 
 
39 
 
 A NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS. 
 
 To envy or detraction. Prithee tell me, 
 Has she no suitors ? 
 
 All. Even the best of the shire, Frank,' 
 My lord, excepted ; such as sue, and send, 
 And send, and sue again, but to no purpose ; 
 Their frequent visits have not gain'd her 
 
 presence. 
 
 Yet she's so far from sullenness and pride, 
 That I dare undertake you shall meet from j 
 
 her 
 
 A liberal entertainment : I can give you 
 A catalogue of her suitors' names. 
 
 Well. Forbear it, 
 While I give you good counsel : I am bound 
 
 to it. 
 
 Thy father was my friend ; and that affection 
 I bore to him, in right descends to thee ; 
 Thou art a handsome and a hopeful youth, 
 Nor will I have the least affront stick on thee, 
 If I with any danger can prevent it. 
 All. I thank your noble care ; but, pray 
 
 you, in what 
 Do I run the hazard ? 
 
 Well. Art thou not in love ? 
 Put it not off with wonder. 
 All. In love, at my years ! 
 Well. You think you walk in clouds, but 
 
 are transparent. 
 I have heard all, and the choice that you 
 
 have made ; 
 And, with my finger, can point out the north 
 
 star 
 
 By which the loadstone of your folly's guided ; 
 And, to confirm this true, what think you of 
 Fair Margaret, the only child and heir 
 Of Cormorant Overreach? Does it blush 
 
 and start, 
 
 To hear her only named ? blush at your want 
 Of wit, and reason. 
 
 All. You are too bitter, sir. 
 
 Well. Wounds of this nature are not to 
 
 be cured 
 
 With balms, but corrosives. I must be plain : 
 Art thou scarce manumised from the porter's 
 
 lodge, 
 
 And yet sworn sen-ant to the pantofle, 
 And dars't thou dream of marriage? I fear 
 'Twill be concluded for impossible. 
 That there is now, or e'er shall be hereafter, 
 A handsome page, or player's boy of fourteen, 
 But either loves a wench, or drabs love him ; 
 Court-waiters not exempted. 
 
 All. This is madness. 
 Howe'er you have discover 'd my intents, 
 You know my aims are lawful ; and if ever 
 The queen of flowers, the glory of the spring, 
 The sweetest comfort to our smell, the 
 
 rose, 
 Sprang from an envious briar, I may infer, i 
 
 There's such disparity in their conditions, 
 Between the goodness of my soul, the 
 
 daughter, 
 And the base churl her father. 
 
 Well. Grant this true, 
 As I believe it, canst thou ever hope 
 To enjoy a quiet bed with her, whose father 
 Ruin'd thy state ? 
 All. And yours too. 
 Well. I confess it. 
 
 True ; I must tell you as a friend, and freely, 
 That, where impossibilities are apparent, 
 "Tis indiscretion to nourish hopes. 
 Canst thou imagine (let not self-love blind 
 
 thee) 
 That Sir Giles Overreach, that, to make her 
 
 great 
 
 In swelling titles, without touch of con- 
 science, 
 Will cut his neighbour's throat, and I hope 
 
 his own too, 
 
 Will e'er consent to make her thine ? Give 
 
 o'er, 
 And think of some course suitable to thy 
 
 rank, 
 And prosper in it. 
 
 AIL You have well advised me. 
 But, in the mean time, you, that are so 
 
 studious 
 
 Of my affairs, wholly neglect your own : 
 Remember yourself, and in what plight you 
 
 are. 
 
 Well. No matter, no matter. 
 All. Yes, 'tis much material : 
 You know my fortune, and my means ; yet 
 
 something 
 
 I can spare from myself, to help your wants. 
 Well. How's this? 
 All. Nay, be not angry ; there's eight 
 
 pieces, 
 
 To put you in better fashion. 
 Well. Money from thee ! 
 From a boy ! a stipendiary ! one that lives 
 At the devotion of a stepmother, 
 And the uncertain favour of a lord ! 
 I'll eat my arms first. Howsoe'er blind 
 
 Fortune 
 Hath spent the utmost of her malice on 
 
 me; 
 
 Though I am vomited out of an alehouse, 
 And thus accoutred ; know not where to eat, 
 Or drink, or sleep, but underneath this 
 
 canopy ; 
 
 Although I thank thee, I despise thy offer : 
 And as I, in my madness, broke my state, 
 Without the assistance of another's brain, 
 In my right wits I'll piece it ; at the worst, 
 Die thus, and be forgotten. 
 All. A strange humour ! \Excvnt. 
 
A NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS. 
 
 GENE II. A Room in LadyAlhvorth's 
 House. 
 
 Enter Order, Amble, Furnace, and 
 Watchall. 
 
 Ord. Set all things right, or, as my name 
 
 is Order, 
 nd by this staff of office that commands 
 
 you, 
 ris chain and double ruff, symbols of 
 
 power, 
 
 hoever misses in his function, 
 >r one whole week makes forfeiture of his 
 
 breakfast, 
 nd privilege in the wine-cellar. 
 Amb. You are merry, 
 ood master steward. 
 Furn. Let him ; I'll be angry. 
 Amb. Why, fellow Furnace, 'tis not twelve 
 
 o'clock yet, 
 or dinner taking up ; then, 'tis allow 'd, 
 ooks, by their places, may be choleric. 
 Furn. You think you have spoke wisely, 
 
 goodman Amble, 
 y lady's go-before ! 
 Ord. Nay, nay, no wrangling. 
 Furn. Twit me with the authority of the 
 
 kitchen ! 
 
 all hours, and all places, I'll be angry ; 
 nd thus provoked, when I am at my prayers 
 will be angry. 
 
 Amb. There was no hurt meant. 
 Furn. I am friends with thee ; and yet I 
 
 will be angry. 
 Ord. With whom ? 
 Furn. No matter whom : yet, now I 
 
 think on it, 
 
 ' am angry with my lady. 
 Watch. Heaven forbid, man ! 
 Ord . What cause has she given thee ? 
 Furn. Cause enough, master steward. 
 t was entertained by her to please her palate, 
 \nd, till she forswore eating, I perform'd it. 
 S T ow, since our master, noble Allworth, died, 
 rhough I crack my brains to find out 
 
 tempting sauces, 
 
 \nd raise fortifications in the pastry, 
 Such as might serve for models in the Low 
 
 Countries ; 
 
 Which, if they had been practised at Breda, 
 Spinola might have thrown his cap at it, and- 
 
 ne'er took it 
 
 Amb. But you had wanted matter there 
 
 to work on. 
 Furn. Matter ! with six eggs, and a strike 
 
 of rye meal, 
 
 I had kept the town till doomsday, perhaps 
 longer. 
 
 Ord. But what's this to your pet against 
 
 my lady ? 
 Furn. What's this? marry this ; when I 
 
 am three parts roasted, 
 And the fourth part parboiled, to prepare her 
 
 viands, 
 
 She keeps her chamber, dines with a panada, 
 Or water-gruel, my sweat never thought on. 
 Ord. But your art is seen in the dining- 
 room. 
 
 Furn. By whom ? 
 
 By such as pretend love to her ; but come 
 To feed upon her. Yet, of all the harpies 
 That do devour her, I am out of charity 
 With none so much as the thin-gutted squire. 
 That's stolen into commission. 
 
 Ord. Justice Greedy ? 
 i. The same, the 
 
 same : meat's cart 
 
 Fur ft. 
 
 away upon him, 
 It never thrives ; he holds this paradox. 
 Who eats not well, can ne'er do justice well: 
 His stomach's as insatiate as the grave, 
 Or strumpets' ravenous appetites. 
 
 \Knockingwitki*. 
 
 \Vatch. One knocks. [F.vff. 
 
 Ord. Our late young master ! 
 
 Re-enter Watchall and Alhvorth. ' 
 
 Amb. Welcome, sir. 
 
 Furn. Your hand ; 
 
 If you have a stomach, a cold bakc-m cat's 
 ready. 
 
 Ord. His father's picture in little. 
 
 Furn. We are all your servants. 
 
 Amb. In you he lives. 
 
 All. At once, my thanks to all ; 
 This is yet some comfort. Is my lady , 
 stirri'ng ? 
 
 Enter Lady Allworth, Waiting Woman, 
 and Chambermaid. 
 
 Ord. Her presence answers for us. 
 L. All. Sort those silks well. 
 I'll take the air alone. 
 
 [Exeunt Waiting Woman and Cham- 
 
 bermaid. 
 
 Furn. You air and air ; 
 But will you never taste but spoon-meat . 
 
 more ? 
 To what use serve I ? 
 
 L. All. Prithee, be not angry ; 
 I shall ere long ; i' the mean time, there is 
 
 gold 
 
 To buy thee aprons, and a summer suit. 
 Furn. I am appeased, and Furnace now 
 
 grows cool. 
 L. /^//.SAnd, as I gave directions, if this 
 
 morning 
 [ am visited by any, entertain them 
 
392 
 
 A NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS. 
 
 As heretofore ; but say, in my excuse, 
 I am indisposed. 
 
 Ord. I shall, madam. 
 L. AH. Do, and leave me. 
 Nay, stay you, Alhvorth. 
 
 [Exeunt Order, Amble, Furnace, and 
 
 Watchall. 
 
 All. I shall gladly grow here, 
 I To wait on your commands. 
 
 L. All. So soon turn'd courtier ! 
 
 All. Style not that courtship, madam, 
 
 which is duty 
 Purchased on your part. 
 
 L. All. Well, you shall o'ercome; 
 I'll not contend in words. How is it with 
 Your noble master ? 
 
 All. Ever like himself; 
 No scruple lessen'd in the full weight of 
 
 honour : 
 
 He did command me, pardon my pre- 
 sumption, 
 
 As his unworthy deputy, to kiss 
 Your ladyship's fair hands. 
 
 L. All. I am honour'd in 
 His favour to me. Does he hold his purpose 
 For the Low Countries ? 
 
 All. Constantly, good madam ; 
 But he will in person first present his sen-ice. 
 L. All. And how approve you of his 
 
 course ? you are yet 
 Like virgin parchment, capable of any 
 Inscription, vicious or honourable. 
 I will not force your will, but leave you free 
 To your own election. 
 
 All. Any form you please, 
 I will put on ; but, might I make my choice, 
 With humble emulation I would follow 
 The path my lord marks to me. 
 
 L. All. 'Tis well answer'd, 
 And I commend your spirit : you had a 
 
 father, 
 
 Bless'd be his memory ! that some few hours 
 Before the will of heaven took him from me, 
 Who did commend you, by the dearest ties 
 Of perfect love between us, to my charge ; 
 And, therefore, what I speak, you are bound 
 
 to hear, 
 
 With such respect as if he lived in me. 
 He was my husband, and howe'er you are 
 
 not 
 
 Son of my womb, you may be of my love, 
 Provided you deserve it. 
 
 All. I have found you, 
 Most honour'd madam, the best mother to 
 
 me ; 
 And, with my utmost strengths of care and 
 
 service, 
 
 Will labour that you never may repent 
 Your bounties shower'd upon me. 
 
 L. All. I much hope it. 
 These were your father's words : If eer my 
 
 son 
 
 Follow the war, tell him it is a school, 
 Where all the principles tending to honour 
 Are taught, if truly follow' d : but for such 
 As repair thither, as a place in which 
 They do presume they may with license 
 
 practise 
 
 Their lusts and riots, they shall never merit 
 The noble name of soldiers. To dare boldly 
 In a fair cause, and for their country's safety, 
 To run upon the cannon s mouth undaunted; 
 To obey their leaders, and shun mutinies ; 
 To bear with patience the winter's cold, 
 And summer s scorching heat, and not to 
 
 faint, 
 
 When plenty of provision fails, with hunger; 
 Are the essential parts make up a soldier, 
 Not swearing, dice, or drinking. 
 
 All. There's no syllable 
 You speak, but is to me an oracle, 
 Which but to doubt were impious. 
 
 L. All. To conclude : 
 Beware ill company, for often men 
 Are like to those with whom they do con- 
 verse ; 
 And, from one man I warn you, and that's 
 
 Wellborn : 
 Not 'cause he's poor, that rather claims 
 
 your pity ; 
 
 But that he's in his manners so debauch'd, 
 And hath to vicious courses sold himself. 
 'Tis true, your father loved him, while he was 
 Worthy the loving ; but if he had lived 
 To have seen him as he is, he had cast him 
 
 off. 
 As you must do. 
 
 All. I shall obey in all things. 
 
 L. All. Follow me to my chamber, you 
 
 shall have gold 
 
 To furnish you like my son, and still sup- 
 plied, 
 
 As I hear from you. 
 All. I am still your creature. \Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE III. A Hall in the same. 
 Enter Overreach, Greedy, Order, Amble, 
 
 Furnace, Watchall, and Marrall. 
 Greedy. Not to be seen ! 
 j Over. Still cloister'd up ! Her reason, 
 'I hope, assures her, though she make herself 
 Close prisoner ever lor her husband's loss, 
 'Twill not recover him. 
 
 Ord. Sir, it is her will, 
 W r hich we, that are her servants, ought to 
 
 serve, 
 
 And not dispute : howe'er, you are nobly 
 welcome ; 
 
A NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS. 
 
 393 
 
 And, if you please to stay, that you may 
 
 think so, 
 There came, not six days since, from Hull, 
 
 a pipe, 
 
 Of rich Canary, which shall spend itself 
 For my lady's honour. 
 
 Greedy. Is it of the right race ? 
 
 Ord. Yes, master Greedy. 
 
 Amb. How his mouth runs o'er ! 
 
 Furn. I'll make it run, and run. Save 
 
 your good worship ! 
 Greedy. Honest master cook, thy hand ; 
 
 again : how I love thee ! 
 Are the good dishes still in being ? speak, 
 
 boy. 
 Furn. If you have a mind to feed, there 
 
 is a chine 
 
 Of beef, well season'd. 
 Greedy. Good ! 
 Furn. A pheasant, larded. 
 Greedy. That I might now give thanks 
 
 for't ! 
 
 Furn. Other kickshaws. 
 Besides, there came last night, from the 
 
 forest of Sherwood, 
 The fattest stag I ever cook'd. 
 Greedy. A stag, man ! 
 Furn. A stag, sir; part of it prepared for 
 
 dinner, 
 And baked in puff-paste. 
 
 Greedy. Puff-paste too ! Sir Giles, 
 .A ponderous chine of beef ! a pheasant 
 
 larded ! 
 And red deer too, sir Giles, and baked in 
 
 puff-paste ! 
 
 All business set aside, let us give thanks here, 
 i Furn. How the lean skeleton's rapt ? 
 1 Over. You know we cannot. 
 Mar. Your worships are to sit on a com- 
 mission, 
 
 And if you fail to come, youlose the cause. 
 Greedy. Cause me no causes. I'll prove't, 
 
 for such a dinner, 
 We may put off a commission : you shall 
 
 find it 
 Uenrici decimo quarto. 
 
 Over. Fie, master Greedy ! 
 Will you lose me a thousand pounds for a 
 
 dinner, 
 No more, for shame ! we must forget the 
 
 belly, 
 When we think of profit. 
 
 Greedy. Well, you shall o'er-rule me ; 
 I could e'en cry now. Do you hear, master 
 
 cook, 
 
 Send but a corner of that immortal pasty, 
 And I, in thankfulness, will, by your boy, 
 -Send you a brace of three-pences. 
 Furn. Will you be so prodigal ? 
 
 Enter Wellborn. 
 
 Over. Remember me to your lady. Who 
 have we here ? 
 
 Well. You know me. 
 [ Over. I did once, but now I will not ; 
 Thou art no blood of mine. Avaunt, thou 
 
 beggar ! 
 
 If ever thou presume to own me more, 
 I'll have thee caged, and whipp'd. 
 
 Greedy. I'll grant the warrant. 
 Think of pie-corner, Furnace ! 
 {Exeunt Overreach, Greedy, and Marrall. 
 
 Watch. Will you out, sir? 
 I wonder how you durst creep in. 
 
 Ord. This is rudeness, 
 And saucy impudence. 
 
 Amb. Cannot you stay 
 To be serv'd, among your fellows, from the 
 
 basket, 
 But you must press into the hall ? 
 
 Furn. Prithee, vanish 
 Into some outhouse, though it be the pigstie ; 
 My scullion shall come to thee. 
 
 Enter Allworth. 
 
 Well. This is rare : 
 Oh, here's Tom Allworth. Tom ! 
 
 All. We must be strangers ; 
 Nor would I have you seen here for a million. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Well. Better and better. He contemns 
 me too ! 
 
 Enter Waiting Woman and Chambermaid. 
 
 Woman. Foh, what a smell's here ! what 
 
 thing's this ? 
 Cham. A creature 
 Made out of the privy ; let us hence, for 
 
 love's sake, 
 Or I shall swoon. 
 
 Woman. I begin to faint already. 
 [Exeunt Waiting Woman and Chamber- 
 maid. 
 
 Watch. Will you know your way? 
 Amb. Or shall we teach it you, 
 By the 'head and shoulders ? 
 
 Well. No ; I will not stir ; 
 Do you mark, I will not : let me see the 
 
 wretch 
 That dares attempt to force me. WTiy, you 
 
 slaves, 
 
 Created only to make legs, and cringe ; 
 To carry in a dish, and shift a trencher ; 
 That have not souls only to hope a blessing 
 Beyond black jacks or flagons; you, that 
 
 were born 
 Only to consume meat and drink, and batten 
 
394 
 
 A NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS. 
 
 Upon reversions ! who advances ? who 
 Shews me the way? 
 Ord. My lady! 
 
 Enter Lady Allworth, Waiting Woman, 
 and Chambermaid. 
 
 Cham. Here's the monster. 
 
 Well. That husband, madam, was once 
 
 in his fortune 
 
 Almost as low as I ; want, debts, and quarrels 
 Lay heavy on him : let it not be thought 
 A boast in me, though I say, I relieved him. 
 Twas I that gave him fashion ; mine the 
 
 sword, 
 That did on all occasions second his : 
 
 Woman. Sweet madam, keep your glove j I brought him on and off with honour, lady; 
 
 to your nose. 
 
 Cham. Or let me 
 
 Fetch some perfumes may be predominant ; 
 You wrong yourself else. 
 
 Well. Madam, my designs 
 Bear me to you. 
 
 L. All. To me ! 
 
 Well. And though I have met with 
 But ragged entertainment from your grooms 
 here, 
 
 And when in all men's judgments he was 
 
 sunk, 
 
 And, in his own hopes, not to be buoy'd up, 
 I stepp'd unto him, took him by the hand, 
 And set him upright. 
 
 Furn. Are not we base rogues, 
 That could forget this ? 
 
 Well. I confess, ) r ou made him 
 Master of your estate; nor could your friends, 
 i Though he brought no wealth with him, 
 
 I hope from you to receive that noble usage j blame you for it ; 
 
 As may become the true friend of your For he had a shape, and to that shape a 
 
 husband, mind 
 
 And then I shall forget these. Made up of all parts, either great or noble ; 
 
 So winning a behaviour, not to be 
 Resisted, madam. 
 L. All. 'Tis most true, he had. 
 Well. For his sake, then, in that I was his 
 
 friend, 
 Do not contemn me. 
 
 L. All. For what's past excuse me, 
 I will redeem it. Order, give the gentleman 
 
 L. All. I am amazed 
 To see, and hear this rudeness. Darest thou 
 
 think, 
 
 Though sworn, that it can ever find belief, 
 That I, who to the best men of this country 
 Denied my presence, since my husband's 
 
 death, 
 Can fall so low, as to change words with 
 
 thee? 
 
 Thou son of infamy ! forbear my house, 
 And know, and keep the distance that's be- 
 tween us ; 
 
 Or, though it be against my gentler temper, 
 I shall take order you no more shall be 
 An eyesore to me. 
 
 Well. Scorn me not, good lady ; 
 But, as in form you are angelical, 
 Imitate the heavenly natures, and vouchsafe 
 At the least awhile to hear me. You will 
 
 grant 
 
 The blood that runs in this arm is as noble 
 As that which fills your veins ; those costly 
 
 jewels, 
 And those rich clothes you wear, your men's 
 
 observance, 
 
 And women's flattery, are in you no virtues ; 
 Nor these rags, with my poverty, in me vices. 
 You have a fair fame, and, I know deserve it ; 
 Yet, lady, I must say. in nothing more 
 Than in the pious sorrow you have shewn 
 For your late noble husband. 
 Ord. How she starts! 
 Furn. And hardly can keep finger from 
 
 the eye, 
 
 To hear him named. 
 L. All. Have you aught else to say ? 
 
 A hundred pounds. 
 
 Well. No, madam, on no terms : 
 I will nor beg nor borrow sixpence of you, 
 But be supplied elsewhere, or want thus ever. 
 Only one suit I make, which you deny not 
 To strangers ; and 'tis this. 
 
 [ Whispers to her. 
 L. All. Fie ! nothing eise? 
 Well. Nothing, unlessyou please tocharge 
 
 your sen-ants, 
 
 To throw away a little respect upon me. 
 L. All. What you demand is yours. 
 Well. I thank 'you, lady. 
 Now what can be wrought out of such a suit 
 Is yet in supposition : \Asidc.~\ I have said 
 
 all; 
 
 When you please, you may retire. {Exit 
 Lady All worth.} Nay, all's forgotten ; 
 {To the Servants. 
 
 And, for a lucky omen to my project, 
 Shake hands, and end all 'quarrels in the 
 
 cellar. 
 
 Ord. Agreed, agreed. 
 Furn. Still merry master Wellborn. 
 
 Exeunt. 
 
A NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS. 
 
 395 
 
 ACT II. 
 SCENE I. A Room in Overreach's 
 
 House. 
 
 Enter Overreach < Marrall. 
 \ Over. He's gone, I warrant thee ; this 
 
 commission crush'd him. 
 Mar. Your worships have the way on't, 
 
 and ne'er miss 
 To squeeze these unthrifts into air : and 
 
 yet, 
 
 The chapfall'n justice did his part, re- 
 turning 
 
 For your advantage, the certificate, 
 Against his conscience, and his knowledge 
 
 too, 
 
 With your good favour, to the utter ruin 
 Of the poor farmer. 
 
 Over. 'Twas for these good ends 
 I made him a justice : he that bribes his 
 
 belly, 
 Is certain to command his soul. 
 
 Mar. I wonder, 
 Still with your license, why, your worship 
 
 having 
 
 The power to put this thin-gut in commis- 
 sion, 
 
 You are not in't yourself? 
 Over. Thou art a fool ; 
 In being out of office I am out of danger ; 
 -WHere, if I were a justice, besides the 
 
 trouble, 
 
 I might or out of wilfulness, or error, 
 Run myself finely into a premunire, 
 And so become a prey to the informer. 
 No, I'll have none oft ; 'tis enough I keep 
 Greedy at my devotion : so he serve 
 My purposes, let him hang, or damn, I care 
 
 not ; 
 Friendship is but a word. 
 
 Afar. You are all wisdom. 
 Over. I would be worldly wise ; for the 
 
 other wisdom, 
 
 That does prescribe us a well govern'd life, 
 And to do right to others, as ourselves, 
 1 value not an atom. 
 
 Mar. What course take you, 
 With your good patience, to hedge in the 
 
 manor 
 Of your neighbour, master Frugal? as 'tis 
 
 said 
 
 He will nor sell, nor borrow, nor exchange ; 
 And his land, lying in the midst of your 
 
 many lordships, 
 Is a foul blemish. 
 
 Over. I have thought on't, Marrall, 
 And it shall take. I must have all men 
 
 sellers, 
 And I the only purchaser. 
 
 Mar. 'Tis most fit, sir. 
 
 Over. I'll therefore buy some cottage near 
 
 his manor, 
 Which done, I'll make my men break ope 
 
 his fences, 
 Ride o'er his standing corn, and in the 
 
 night 
 Set fire on his bams, or break his cattle's 
 
 legs: 
 fThese trespasses draw on suits, and suits 
 
 expenses, 
 Which I can spare, but will soon beggar 
 
 him. 
 When I have harried him thus two or three 
 
 year, 
 
 Though he sue in forma pauper is, in spite 
 Of all his thrift and care, he'll grow behind- 
 hand. 
 Mar. The best I ever heard ! I could 
 
 adore you. 
 Over. Then, with the favour of my man 
 
 of law, 
 I will pretend some title : want will force 
 
 him 
 
 To put it to arbitrement ; then, if he sell 
 For half the value, he shall have ready- 
 money, 
 And I possess his land. 
 
 Mar. 'Tis above wonder ! 
 Wellborn was apt to sell, and needed not 
 These fine arts, sir, to hook him in. 
 
 Over. Well thought on. 
 This varlet, Marrall, lives too long, to up- 
 braid me 
 With my close cheat put upon him. Will 
 
 nor cold, 
 Nor hunger, kill him ? 
 
 Mar. I know not what to think on't. 
 I have used all means ; and the last night I 
 
 caused 
 His host, the tapster, to turn him out of 
 
 doors ; 
 And have been since with all your friends 
 
 and tenants, 
 And, on the forfeit of your favour, charged 
 
 them, 
 Though a crust of mouldy bread would keep 
 
 him from starving, 
 Yet they should not relieve him. This is 
 
 done, sir. 
 Over. That was something, Marrall ; but 
 
 thou must go further, 
 And suddenly, Marrall. 
 
 Mar. Where, and when you please, sir. 
 Over. I would have thee seek him out, 
 
 and, if thou canst, 
 Persuade him that 'tis better steal than 
 
 beg ; 
 n, if I 
 
 Then, if I prove he has but robb'd a henroost,, 
 
L.396 
 
 A NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS. 
 
 Not all the world shall save him from the 
 gallows. 
 
 Do any thing to work him to despair ; 
 
 And 'tis thy masterpiece. 
 Mar. I will do my best, sir. 
 Over. I am now on my main work with 
 the lord Lovell, 
 
 The gallant-minded, popular lord Lovell, 
 
 The minion of the people's love. I hear 
 
 He's come into the country, and my aims are 
 
 To insinuate myself into his knowledge, 
 
 And then invite him to my house. 
 Mar. I have you ; 
 
 This points at my young mistress. 
 Over. She must part with 
 
 That humble title, and write honourable, 
 
 Right honourable, Marrall, my right ho- 
 nourable daughter ; 
 
 If all I have, or e'er shall get, will do it. 
 
 I'll have her well attended; there are ladies 
 
 Of errant knights decay 'd, and brought so 
 low, 
 
 That for cast clothes and meat will gladly 
 serve her. 
 
 And 'tis my glory, though I come from the 
 city, 
 
 To have their issue whom I have undone, 
 
 To kneel to mine as bondslaves. 
 Mar. 'Tis fit state, sir. 
 Over. And therefore, I'll not have a 
 chambermaid 
 
 That ties her shoes, or any meaner office, 
 
 But such whose fathers were right worship- 
 ful. 
 
 'Tis a rich man's pride ! there having ever 
 been 
 
 More than a feud, a strange antipathy, 
 
 Between us and true gentry. 
 
 Enter Wellborn. 
 
 Mar. See, who's here, sir. 
 i Over. Hence, monster ! prodigy ! 
 
 Well. Sir, your wife's nephew , 
 She and my father tumbled in one belly. 
 Over. Avoid my sight ! thy breath's in- 
 fectious, rogue ! 
 
 I shun thee as a leprosy, or the plague. 
 XDome hither, Marrall this is the time to 
 work him. {Aside, and exit. 
 
 Mar. I warrant you, sir. 
 
 Well. By this light I think he's mad. 
 
 Mar. Mad ! had you ta'en compassion on 
 
 yourself, 
 You long since had been mad. 
 
 Well. You have ta'en a course 
 Between you and my venerable uncle, 
 To make me so. 
 
 Mar. The more pale-spirited you, 
 
 That would not be instructed. I swear 
 
 deeply 
 
 Well. By what? 
 Mar. By my religion, 
 Well. Thy religion ! 
 The devil's creed : but what would you 
 
 have done? 
 Mar. Had there been but one tree in all 
 
 the shire, 
 
 Nor any hope to compass a penny halter, 
 Before, like you, I had outlived my fortunes, 
 A withe had served my turn to hang myself. 
 I am zealous in your cause ; pray you hang 
 
 yourself, 
 
 And presently, as you love your credit. 
 Well. I thank you. 
 Mar. Will you stay till you die in a ditch, 
 
 or lice devour you ? 
 
 Or, if you dare not do the feat yourself, 
 But that you'll put the state to charge and 
 
 trouble, 
 Is there no purse to be cut, house to be 
 
 broken, 
 Or market-woman with eggs, that you may 
 
 murder, 
 And so dispatch the business ? 
 
 Well. Here's variety, 
 I must confess ; but I'll accept of none 
 Of all your gentle offers, I assure you. 
 Mar. Why, have you hope ever to eat 
 
 again, 
 
 Or drink? or be the master of three farthings? 
 If you like not hanging, drown yourself ; 
 
 take some course 
 For your reputation. 
 
 Well. 'Twill not do, dear tempter, 
 With all the rhetoric the fiend hath taught 
 
 you. 
 
 I arn as far as thou art from despair ; 
 Nay, I have confidence, which is more than 
 
 hope, 
 
 To live, and suddenly, better than ever. 
 Mar. Ha ! ha ! these castles you build in 
 
 the air, 
 
 Will not persuade me or to give, or lend, 
 A token to you. 
 
 Well. I'll be more kind to thee : 
 Come, thou shalt dine with me. 
 Mar. With you ! 
 Well. Nay more, dine gratis. 
 Mar. Under what hedge, I pray you? or 
 
 at whose cost ? 
 Are they padders, or abram-men that are 
 
 your consorts ? 
 Well. Thou art incredulous ; but thou 
 
 shalt dine, 
 Not alone at her house, but with a gallant 
 
 lady; 
 With me, and with a lady. 
 
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A NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS. 
 
 399 
 
 By fire ! for cooks are Persians, and swear 
 
 by it, 
 
 Of all the griping and extorting tyrants 
 I ever heard or read of, I ne'er met 
 A match to sir Giles Overreach. 
 
 Watch. What will you take 
 To tell him so, fellow Furnace ? 
 
 Fur. Just as much 
 As my throat is worth, for that would be the 
 
 price on't. 
 
 To have a usurer that starves himself, 
 And wears a cloak of one and twenty years 
 On a suit of fourteen groats, bought of the 
 
 hangman, 
 To grow rich, and then purchase, is too 
 
 common : 
 But this sir Giles feeds high, keeps many 
 
 servants, 
 
 Who must at his command do any outrage ; 
 Rich in his habit, vast in his expenses ; 
 Yet he to admiration still increases 
 In wealth, and lordships. 
 
 Ord. He frights men out of their estates, 
 And breaks through all law-nets, made to 
 
 curb ill men, 
 
 As they were cobwebs. No man dares re- 
 prove him. 
 Such a spirit to dare, and power to do, were 
 
 never 
 Lodged so unluckily. 
 
 Re-enter Amble laughing. 
 
 Amb. Ha! ha ! I shall burst. 
 
 Ord. Contain thyself, man. 
 
 Furn. Or make us partakers 
 Of your sudden mirth. 
 
 Amb. Ha ! ha ! my lady has got 
 Such a guest at her table ! this term-driver, 
 
 Marrall, 
 This snip of an attorney 
 
 Furn. What of him, man? 
 
 Amb. The knave thinks still he's at the 
 
 cook's shop in Ram Alley, 
 Where the clerks divide, and the elder is to 
 
 choose ; 
 And feeds so slovenly ! 
 
 Furn. Is this all? 
 
 Amb. My lady 
 Drank to him for fashion sake, or to please 
 
 master Wellborn ; 
 
 As I live, he rises, and takes up a dish 
 In which there were some remnants of a 
 
 boil'd capon, 
 And pledges her in white broth ! 
 
 Furn. Nay, - 'tis like 
 The rest of his tribe. 
 
 Amb. And when I brought him wine, 
 He leaves his stool, and, after a leg or two, 
 Most humbly thanks my worship. 
 
 Ord. Risen already ! 
 A mb. I shall be chid. 
 
 Re-enter Lady Alhvorth, Wellborn, and 
 Marrall. 
 
 Furn. My lady frowns. 
 L. All. You wait well ! [To Amble. 
 
 Let me have no more of this ; I observed 
 
 your jeering : 
 Sirrah, I'll have you know, whom I think 
 
 worthy 
 
 To sit at my table, be he ne'er so mean, 
 When I am present, is not your companion. 
 Otd. Nay, she'll preserve what's due to 
 
 her. 
 
 Furn. This refreshing 
 Follows your flux of laughter. 
 
 L. All. [TV Wellborn.] You are master 
 Of your own will. I know so much of 
 
 manners, 
 
 As not to inquire your purposes ; in a word, 
 To me you are ever welcome, as to a house 
 That is your own. 
 
 Well. Mark that. [AndetoVaxaXL 
 Mar. With reverence, sir, 
 An it like your worship. 
 
 Well. Trouble yourself no further, 
 Dear madam ; my heart's full of zeal and 
 
 service, 
 
 However in my language I am sparing. 
 Come, master Marrall. 
 
 Mar. I attend your worship. 
 
 [Exeunt Wellborn and Marrall. 
 L. All. I see in your looks you are sorry, 
 
 and you know me 
 
 An easy mistress: be merry; I have forgot all. 
 Order and Furnace, come with me ; I must ! 
 
 give you 
 Further directions. 
 
 Ord. What you please. 
 
 Furn. We are ready. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE III. The Country near Lady 
 Allworth's House. 
 
 Enter Wellborn, and Marrall bare-headed. 
 
 Well. I think I am in a good way. 
 
 Mar. Good ! sir ; the best way, 
 The certain best way. 
 
 Well. There are casualties 
 That men are subject to. 
 
 Mar. You are above them ; 
 And as you are already worshipful, 
 I hope ere long you will increase in worship, 
 And be, right Worshipful. 
 
 Well. Prithee do not flout me : 
 What I shall be, I shall be. Is't for your 
 
 ease, 
 You keep your hat off? 
 
400 
 
 A NEW WAY T6 PAY OLD DEBTS. 
 
 Mar. Ease ! an it like your worship ! 
 I hope Jack Marrall shall' not live so long, 
 To prove himself such an unmannerly beast, 
 Though it hail hazel-nuts, as to be cover 'd 
 When your worship's present. 
 
 Well. Is not this a true rogue, 
 That, out of mere hope of a future cozenage, 
 Can turn thus suddenly? 'tis rank already. 
 
 [Aside. 
 Mar. I know your worship's wise, and 
 
 needs no counsel : 
 
 Yet if, in my desire to do you service, 
 I humbly offer my advice, (but still 
 Under correction,) I hope I shall not 
 Incur your high displeasure. 
 We'll. No ; speak freely. 
 Mar. Then, in my judgment, sir, my 
 
 simple judgment, 
 (Still with your worship's favour,) I could 
 
 wish you 
 
 A better habit, for this cannot be 
 But much distasteful to the noble lady, 
 (I say no more) that loves you : for, this 
 
 morning, 
 
 To me, and I am but a swine to her, 
 Before the assurance of her wealth perfumed 
 
 you, 
 
 You savour'd not of amber. 
 Well. I do now then ! 
 Mar. This your batoon hath got a touch of 
 
 it. \Kisses the end of his cudgel. 
 
 Yet, if you please, for change, I have twenty 
 
 pounds here, 
 
 Which, out of my true love, I'll presently 
 Lay down at your worship's feet ; 'twill serve 
 
 to buy you 
 A riding suit. 
 
 Well. But where's the horse? 
 Mar. My gelding 
 
 Is at your service : nay, you shall ride me, 
 Before your worship shall be put to the 
 
 trouble 
 
 To walk afoot. Alas ! when you are lord 
 Of this lady's manor, as I know you will be, 
 You may with the lease of glebe land, call'd 
 
 Knave's-acre, 
 
 A place I would manure, requite your vassal. 
 Well. I thank thy love, but must make no 
 
 use of it ; 
 
 What's twenty pounds ? 
 Mar. "Tis all that I can make, sir. 
 Well. Dost thou think, though I want 
 
 clothes, I could not have them, 
 For one word to my lady ? 
 Mar. As I know not that ! 
 Well. Come, I will tell thee a secret, and 
 
 so leave thee. 
 
 I will not give her the advantage, though 
 she be 
 
 A gallant-minded lady, after we are married, 
 (There being no woman, but is sometimes 
 
 fro ward, ) 
 To hit me in the teeth, and say, she was 
 
 forced 
 
 To buy my wedding-clothes, and took me on. 
 With a plain riding-suit, and an ambling nag, 
 No, I'll be furnish'd something like myself, 
 And so farewell : for thy suit touching 
 
 Knave's-acre, 
 When it is mine, 'tis thine. [Exif* 
 
 Mar. I thank your worship. 
 How was I cozen'd in the calculation 
 Of this man's fortune! my master cozen'd too. 
 Whose pupil I am in the art of undoing men ~ 
 For that is our profession ! Well, well, master 
 
 Wellborn, 
 You are of a sweet nature, and fit again to 
 
 be cheated : 
 Which, if the Fates please, when you are 
 
 possess'd 
 Of the land and lady, you, sans question, 
 
 shall be. 
 I'll presently think of the means. 
 
 [ Walks by musing* 
 
 Enter Overreach, speaking to a servant 
 within. 
 
 Over. Sirrah, take my horse. 
 I'll walk to get me an appetite ; 'tis but a. 
 
 mile, 
 
 And exercise will keep me from being pursey. 
 Ha ! Marrall ! is he conjuring ? perhaps 
 The knave has wrought the prodigal to do 
 Some outrage on himself, and now he feels 
 Compunction in his conscience for't : nc* 
 
 matter, 
 So it be done. Marrall ! 
 
 Mar. Sir. 
 
 Over. How succeed we 
 In our plot on Wellborn ? 
 
 Mar. Never better, sir. 
 
 Over. Has he hang'd or drown'd himself? 
 
 Mar. No, sir, he lives ; 
 Lives once more to be made a prey to you,. 
 A greater prey than ever. 
 
 Over. Art thou in thy wits ? 
 If thou art, reveal this miracle, and briefly. 
 
 Mar. A lady, sir, is fall'n in love with 
 him. 
 
 Over. With him? what lady? 
 
 Mar. The rich lady Allworth. 
 
 Over. Thou dolt ! how dar'st thou speak 
 this? 
 
 Mar. I speak truth. 
 And I do so but once a year, unless 
 It be to you, sir : we dined with her ladyship, 
 I thank his worship. 
 
 Over. His worship ! 
 
A NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS. 
 
 401 
 
 Mar. As I live, sir, 
 
 I dined with him, at the great lady's table, 
 Simple as I stand here ; and saw when she 
 
 kiss'd him, 
 And would, at his request, have kiss'd me 
 
 too; 
 But I was not so audacious as some youths 
 
 are, 
 
 That dare do anything, be it ne'er so absurd, 
 And sad after performance. 
 Over. Why, thou rascal ! 
 To tell me these impossibilities. 
 Dine at her table ! and kiss him ! or 
 
 thee ! 
 
 Impudent varlet, have not I myself, 
 
 To whom great countesses' doors have oft 
 
 flew open, 
 Ten times attempted, since her husband's 
 
 death, 
 
 In vain, to see her, though I came a suitor? 
 And yet your good solicitorship, and rogue 
 
 Wellborn, 
 Were brought into her presence, feasted 
 
 with her ! 
 
 But that I know thee a dog that cannot 
 
 blush, 
 
 'This most incredible lie would call up one, 
 On thy buttermilk cheeks. 
 
 Mar. Shall I not trust my eyes, sir, 
 Or taste ? I feel her good cheer in my belly. 
 Over. You shall feel me, if you give not 
 
 over, sirrah : 
 Recover your brains again, and be no more 
 
 gull'd 
 
 With a beggar's plot, assisted by the aids 
 Of serving-men and chambermaids, for 
 
 beyond these 
 
 Thou never saw'st a woman, or I'll quit you 
 From my employments. 
 
 Mar. Will you credit this yet ? 
 On my confidence of their marriage, I offer'd 
 
 Wellborn 
 
 I would give a crown now I durst say his 
 
 worship [Aside. 
 
 My nag, and twenty pounds. 
 Over. Did you so, ideot ! 
 
 {Strikes him down. 
 
 Was this the way to work him to despair, 
 Or rather to cross me ? 
 
 Mar. Will your worship kill me ? 
 
 Over. No, no ; but drive the lying spirit 
 
 out of you. 
 Mar. He's gone. 
 
 Over. I have done then : now, forgetting 
 Your late imaginary feast and lady, 
 Know, my lord Lovell dines with me to- 
 morrow. 
 
 Be careful nought be wanting to receive him ; 
 And bid my daughter's women trim her up, 
 
 Though they paint her, so she catch the 
 
 lord, I'll thank them : 
 There's a piece for my late blows. 
 
 Mar. I must yet suffer : 
 But there may be a time [Aside. 
 
 Over. Do you grumble ? 
 
 Mar. No, sir. {Exeunt. 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 SCENE I. The Country near Overreach's 
 
 House. 
 
 Enter Lord Lovell, Allworth, and Servants. 
 Lov. Walk the horses down the hill : 
 
 something in private 
 I must impart to Allworth. 
 
 {Exeunt Servants. 
 All. O, my lord, 
 
 What sacrifice of reverence, duty, watching, 
 Although I could put off the use of sleep, 
 And ever wait on your commands to serve 
 
 them ; 
 What dangers, though in ne'er so horrid 
 
 shapes, 
 Nay death itself, though I should run to 
 
 meet it, 
 Can I, and with a thankful willingness 
 
 suffer ; 
 
 But still the retribution will fall short 
 Of your bounties shower'd upon me ? 
 
 Lov. Loving youth ; 
 Till what I purpose be put into act, 
 Donoto'erprize it ; since you have trusted me 
 With your soul's nearest, nay, her dearest 
 
 secret, 
 
 Rest confident 'tis in a cabinet lock'd 
 Treachery shall never open. I have found 
 
 you 
 
 (For so much to your face I must profess, 
 Howe'er you guard your modesty with a 
 
 blush'for't) 
 
 More zealous in your love and service to me, 
 Than I have been in my rewards. 
 
 All. Still great ones, 
 Above my merit. 
 
 Lov. Such your gratitude calls them : 
 Nor am I of that harsh and rugged temper 
 As some great men are taxed with, who 
 
 imagine 
 They part from the respect due to their 
 
 honours, 
 
 If they use not all such as follow them, 
 Without distinction of their births, like 
 
 slaves. 
 
 I am not so condition'd : I can make 
 A fitting difference between my footboy, 
 And a gentleman by want compell'd to serve 
 
4 02 
 
 A NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS. 
 
 All. 'Tis thankfully acknowledged ; you 
 
 have been 
 
 More like a father to me than a master : 
 Pray you, pardon the comparison. 
 
 Lev. I allow it ; 
 
 And to give you assurance I am pleased in't, 
 My carriage and demeanour to your mistress, 
 Fair Margaret, shall truly witness for me, 
 I can command my passions. 
 
 All. Tis a conquest 
 Few lords can boast of when they are tempted 
 
 Oh! 
 L<n\ Why do you sigh? can you be 
 
 doubtful of me ? 
 
 By that fair name I in the wars have pur- 
 chased, 
 
 And all my actions, hitherto untainted, 
 I will not be more true to mine own honour, 
 Than to my Allworth ! 
 
 All. As you are the brave lord Lovell, 
 Your bare word only given is an assurance 
 Of more validity and weight to me, 
 Than all the oaths, bound up with impreca- 
 tions, 
 Which, when they would deceive, most 
 
 courtiers practise : 
 Yet being a man, (for, sure, to style you 
 
 more 
 
 Would relish of gross flattery,) I am forced, 
 Against my confidence of your worth and 
 
 virtues, 
 
 To doubt, nay more, to fear. 
 Lov . So young, and jealous ! 
 All. Were you to encounter with a single 
 
 foe, 
 
 i The victory were certain ; but to stand 
 The charge of two such potent enemies, 
 i At once assaulting you, as wealth and 
 
 beauty, 
 
 And those too seconded with power, is odds 
 Too great for Hercules. 
 
 Lov. Speak your doubts and fears, 
 Since you will nourish them, in plainer lan- 
 guage, 
 That I may understand them. 
 
 All. What's your will, 
 Though I lend arms against myself, (pro- 
 vided 
 
 They may advantage you,) must be obey'd. 
 My much-loved lord,' were Margaret only 
 
 fair, 
 
 The cannon of her more than earthly form, 
 Though mounted high, commanding all 
 
 beneath it, 
 And ramm'd with bullets of her sparkling 
 
 eyes, 
 
 Of all the bulwarks that defend your senses 
 Could batter none, but that which guards 
 your sight. 
 
 But when the well-tuned accents of her 
 tongue 
 
 Make music to you, and with numerous 
 sounds 
 
 Assault your hearing, (such as Ulysses, if 
 [he] 
 
 Now lived again, howe'er he stood the 
 Syren?, 
 
 Could not resist,) the combat must grow 
 doubtful 
 
 Between your reason and rebellious pas- 
 sions. 
 
 Add this too ; when you feel her touch, and 
 breath 
 
 Like a soft western wind, when it glides o'er 
 
 Arabia, creating gums and spices ; 
 
 And in the van, the nectar of her lips, 
 
 Which you must taste, bring the battalia on, 
 
 Well arm'd, and strongly lined with her dis- 
 course, 
 
 And knowing manners, to give entertain- 
 ment ; 
 
 Hippolytus himself would leave Diana, 
 
 To follow such a Venus. 
 Lov. Love hath made you 
 
 Poetical, Allworth. 
 
 AH. Grant all these beat off, 
 
 Which if it be in man to do, you'll do it, 
 
 Mammon, in Sir Giles Overreach, steps in 
 
 With heaps of ill-got gold, and so much 
 land, 
 
 To make her more remarkable, as would 
 tire 
 
 A falcon's wings in one day to fly over. 
 
 O my good lord ! these powerful aids, which 
 would 
 
 Make a mis-shapen negro beautiful, 
 
 (Yet are but ornaments to give her lustre, 
 
 That in herself is all perfection, ) must 
 
 Prevail for her : I here release your trust ; 
 
 'Tis happiness, enough, for me to serve you. 
 
 And sometimes, with chaste eyes, to look 
 
 upon her. 
 
 Loi 1 . Why, shall I swear? 
 All. O, by no means, my lord ; 
 
 And wrong not so your judgment to the 
 world, 
 
 As from your fond indulgence to a boy, 
 
 Your page, your servant, to refuse a blessing; 
 
 Divers great men are rivals for. 
 Lov. Suspend 
 
 Your judgment till the trial. How far is it 
 
 To Overreach' house? 
 
 All. At the most, some half hour's riding; 
 
 You'll soon be there. 
 Lov. And you the sooner freed 
 
 From your jealous fears. 
 All. O that I durst but hope it. 
 
 [Exeunt* 
 
A NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS. 
 
 403 
 
 SCENE II. A Room in Overreach's 
 
 House. 
 
 Enter Overreach, Greedy, and Marrall. 
 Over. Spare for no cost; let my dressers 
 
 crack with the weight 
 Of curious viands. 
 
 Greedy. Store indeed 's no sore, sir. 
 Over. That proverb fits your stomach, 
 
 master Greedy. 
 And let no plate be seen but what's pure 
 
 gold, 
 Or such whose workmanship exceeds the 
 
 matter 
 
 That it is made of ; let my choicest linen 
 Perfume the room, and, when we wash, the 
 
 water, 
 With precious powders mix'd, so please my 
 
 lord, 
 
 That he may with envy wish to bathe so ever. 
 Mar. 'Twill be very chargeable. 
 Over. Avaunt, you drudge ! 
 Now all my labour'd ends are at the stake, 
 Is't a time to think of thrift? Call in my 
 daughter. [Exit Marrall. 
 
 And, master justice, since you love choice 
 dishes, 
 
 And plenty of them 
 
 Greedy. As I do, indeed, sir, 
 Almost as much as to give thanks for them. 
 Over. I do confer that providence, with 
 
 my power 
 
 Of absolute command to have abundance, 
 To your best care. 
 
 Greedy. I'll punctually discharge it, 
 And give the best directions. Now am I, 
 In mine own conceit, a monarch; at the 
 
 least, 
 Arch-prfesident of the boil'd, the roast, the 
 
 baked, 
 
 For which I will eat often ; and give thanks 
 
 When my belly's braced up like a drum, and 
 
 that's puie justice. [Exit. 
 
 Over. It must be so : should the foolish 
 
 girl prove modest, 
 
 She may spoil all ; she had it not from me, 
 ' But from her mother ; I was ever forward, 
 As she must be, and therefore I'll prepare 
 her. 
 
 Enter Margaret. 
 
 Alone and let your women wait without. 
 Marg. Your pleasure, sir ? 
 Over. Ha ! this is a neat dressing ! 
 These orient pearls and diamonds well placed 
 
 too! 
 
 The gown affects me not, it should have been 
 Embroider'd o'er and o'er with flowers of 
 gold; 
 
 But these rich jewels, and quaint fashion 
 
 help it. 
 
 And how below ? since oft the wanton eye, 
 The face observed, descends unto the foot, 
 Which being well proportion 'd, as yours is, 
 Invites as much as perfect white and red, 
 Though without art. How like you your 
 
 new woman, 
 The lady Downfallen ? 
 
 Marg. Well, for a companion ; 
 Not as a servant. 
 
 Over. Is she humble, Meg, 
 And careful too, her ladyship forgotten ? 
 Marg. I pity her fortune. 
 Over. Pity her ! trample on her. 
 I took her up in an old tamin gown, 
 (Even starv'd for want of twopenny chops,) 
 
 to serve thee, 
 
 And if I understand she but repines 
 To do thee any duty, though ne'er so servile, 
 I'll pack her to her knight, where I have 
 
 lodged him, 
 Into, the counter, and there let them howl 
 
 together. 
 Marg. You know your own ways ; but 
 
 for me, I blush 
 
 When I command her, that was once attended 
 With persons not inferior to myself, 
 la birth. 
 
 Over. In birth ! why, art thou not my 
 
 daughter, 
 
 The blest child of my industry and wealth ? 
 Why, foolish girl, was't not to make thee 
 
 great, 
 
 That I have run, and still pursue, those ways 
 That hale down curses on me, which I mind 
 
 not ! 
 Part with these humble thoughts, and apt 
 
 thyself 
 
 To the noble state I labour to advance thee ; 
 Or, by my hopes, to see thee honourable, 
 I will adopt a stranger to my heir, 
 And throw thee from my care : do not pro- 
 voke me. 
 Marg. I will not, sir ; mould me which 
 
 way you please. 
 
 Re-enter Greedy. 
 
 Over. How ! interrupted ! 
 Greedy. 'Tis matter of importance. 
 The cook, sir, is self-will'd, and will not 
 
 learn 
 From my experience : there's a fawn brought 
 
 in, sir, 
 
 And, for my life, I cannot make him roast it 
 With a Norfolk dumpling in the belly of it; 
 And, sir, we wise men know, without the 
 
 dumpling 
 Tis not worth three-pence. 
 
404 
 
 A NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS. 
 
 Over. Would it were whole in thy belly, 
 To stuff it out ! cook it any way ; prithee, 
 leave me. 
 
 Greedy. Without order for the dumpling? 
 
 Over. Let it be dumpled 
 Which way thou wilt ; or tell him, I will 
 
 scald him 
 In his own caldron. 
 
 Greedy. I had lost my stomach 
 Had I lost my mistress dumpling ; I'll give 
 thanks for't. {Exit. 
 
 Over. But to our business, Meg; you have 
 heard who dines here ? 
 
 Marg. I have, sir. 
 
 Over. 'Tis an honourable man ; 
 A lord, Meg, and commands a regiment 
 Of soldiers, and, what's rare, is one himself, 
 A bold and understanding one : and to be 
 A lord, and a good leader, in one volume, 
 Is granted unto few but such as rise up 
 The kingdom's glory. 
 
 Re-enter Greedy. 
 
 Greedy. I'll resign my office, 
 If I be not better obey'd. 
 
 Over. 'Slight, art thou frantic? 
 
 Greedy. Frantic! 'twould make me frantic, 
 
 and stark mad, 
 
 Were I not a justice of peace and quorum too, 
 Which this rebellious cook cares not a straw 
 for. 
 
 There are a dozen of woodcocks 
 
 Over. Make thyself 
 Thirteen, the baker's dozen. 
 
 Greedy. I am contented, 
 So they may be dress'd to my mind ; he has 
 
 found out 
 A new device for sauce, and will not dish 
 
 them 
 With toasts and butter ; my father was a 
 
 tailor, 
 And my name, though a justice, Greedy 
 
 Woodcock ; 
 
 And, ere I'll see my lineage so abused, 
 I'll give up my commission. 
 
 Over, [aloud.] Cook ! Rogue, obey him! 
 I have given the word, pray you now remove 
 
 yourself 
 To a collar of brawn, and trouble me no 
 
 further. 
 
 Greedy. I will, and meditate what to eat 
 
 at dinner. {Exit. 
 
 Over. And as I said, Meg, when this gull 
 
 disturb'd us, 
 
 This honourable lord, this colonel, 
 I would have thy husband. 
 
 Marg. There's too much disparity 
 Between his quality and mine, to hope it. 
 
 Over. I more than hope, and doubt not to 
 
 effect it, 
 
 Be thou no enemy to thyself; my wealth 
 Shall weigh his titles down, and make you 
 
 equals. 
 
 Now for the means to assure him thine, ob- 
 serve me ; 
 
 Remember he's a courtier, and a soldier, 
 And not to be trifled with ; and, therefore, 
 
 when 
 
 He comes to woo you, see you do not coy it : 
 This mincing modesty has spoil'd many a 
 
 match 
 
 By a first refusal, in vain after hoped for. 
 Marg. You'll have me, sir, preserve the 
 
 distance that 
 Confines a virgin? 
 
 Over. Virgin me no virgins ? 
 I must have you lose that name, or you lose 
 
 me. 
 I will have you private start not I say, 
 
 private ; 
 
 If thou art my true daughter, not a bastard, 
 Thou wilt venture alone with one man, 
 
 though he came 
 
 Like Jupiter to Semele, and come off, too ; 
 And therefore, when he kisses you, kiss 
 
 close. 
 Marg. I have heard this is the strumpet's 
 
 fashion, sir, 
 
 Which I must never learn. 
 Over. Learn any thing, 
 And from any creature that may make thee 
 
 great ; 
 
 From the devil himself. 
 Marg. This is but devilish doctrine ! 
 
 {Aside. 
 Over. Or, if his blood grow hot, suppose 
 
 he offer 
 
 Beyond this, do not you stay till it cool, 
 But meet his ardour ; if a couch be near, 
 Sit down on't, and invite him. 
 
 Marg. In your house, 
 Your own house, sir ! for heaven's sake, I 
 
 what are you then ? 
 Or what shall I be, sir? 
 
 Over. Stand'not on form ; 
 Words are no substances. 
 
 Marg. Though you could dispense 
 With your own honour, cast aside religion, j 
 The hopes of heaven, or fear of hell ; excuse 
 
 me, 
 
 In worldly policy, this is not the way 
 To make me his wife ; his whore, I grant it , 
 
 may do. 
 
 My maiden honour so soon yielded up, 
 Nay, prostituted, cannot but assure him 
 I, that am light to him, will not hold I 
 
 weight 
 
A NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS. 
 
 405 
 
 Whene'er tempted by others ; so, in judg- 
 ment, 
 When to his lust I have given up my 
 
 honour, 
 
 He must and will forsake me. 
 
 Over. How ! forsake thee ! 
 
 Do I wear a sword for fashion ? or is this arm 
 
 Shrunk up, or wither 'd ? does there live a 
 
 man 
 
 Of that large list I have encounter'd with 
 Can truly say I e'er gave inch of ground 
 Not purchased with his blood that did 
 
 oppose me ? 
 Forsake thee when the thing is done ! he 
 
 dares not. 
 
 Give me but proof he has enjoyed thy person, 
 Though all his captains, echoes to his will, 
 Stood arm'd by his side to justify the wrong, 
 And he himself in the head of his bold troop, 
 Spite of his lordship, and his colonelship, 
 Or the judge's favour, I will make him render 
 A bloody and a strict accompt, and force 
 
 him, 
 By marrying thee, to cure thy wounded 
 
 honour ! 
 I have said it. 
 
 Re-enter Marrall. 
 
 Mar. Sir, the man of honour's come, 
 Newly alighted. 
 
 Over. In, without reply ; 
 And do as I command, or thou art lost. 
 
 \Exit Margaret. 
 
 Is the loud music I gave order for 
 Ready to receive him ? 
 
 Mar. 'Tis, sir. 
 
 Over. Let them sound 
 A princely welcome. [Exit Marrall.] Rough- 
 ness awhile leave me ; 
 For fawning now, a stranger to my nature, 
 Must make way for me. 
 
 Loud music. Enter Lord Lovell, Greedy, 
 Allworth, and Marrall. 
 
 Lov. Sir, you meet your trouble. 
 
 Over. What you are pleased to style so, 
 
 is an honour 
 Above my worth and fortunes. 
 
 All. Strange, so humble. [Aside. 
 
 Over. A justice of peace, my lord. 
 
 [Presents Greedy to him. 
 Lov. Your hand, good sir. 
 Greedy. This is a lord, and some think 
 
 this a favour ; 
 
 But I had rather have my hand in my dump- 
 ling. [Aside. 
 Over. Room for my lord. 
 Lov. I miss, sir, your fair daughter 
 To crown my welcome. 
 
 Over. May it please my lord 
 To taste a glass of Greek wine first, and 
 
 suddenly 
 
 She shall attend my lord. 
 Lov. You'll be obey'd, sir. 
 
 [Exeunt all but Overreach, 
 Over. 'Tis to my wish : as soon as come, 
 
 ask for her ! 
 Why, Meg ! Meg Overreach. 
 
 Re-enter Margaret. 
 
 How ! tears in your eyes I 
 Hah ! dry them quickly, or I'll dig them out. 
 Is this a time to whimper ? meet that great- 
 ness 
 
 That flies into thy bosom, think what 'tis 
 For me to say, My honourable daughter ; 
 And thou, when I stand bare, to say, Put on ; 
 Or, Father, you forget yourself. No more, 
 But be instructed, or expect he comes. 
 
 Re-enter Lord Lovell, Greedy, Allworth, 
 and Marrall. 
 
 A black-brow'd girl, my lord. 
 
 [Lord Lovell salutes Margaret, 
 Lov. As I live, a rare one. 
 All. He's ta'en already : I am lost. 
 
 [Aside. 
 
 Over. That kiss 
 
 Came twanging off, I like it ; quit the room. 
 [Exe2tnt all but Over. Lov. and Marg. 
 A little bashful, my good lord, but you, 
 I hope, will teach her boldness. 
 Lov. I am happy 
 
 In such a scholar : but 
 
 Over. I am past learning, 
 And therefore leave you to yourselves : 
 remember. 
 
 [Aside to Margaret, and exii. 
 Lov. You see, fair lady, your father is 
 
 solicitous, 
 To have you change the barren name of 
 
 virgin 
 Into a hopeful wife. 
 
 Marg. His haste, my lord, 
 Holds no power o'er my will. 
 Lov. But o'er your duty. 
 Marg. Which forced too much, may 
 
 break. 
 
 Lov. Bend rather, sweetest : 
 Think of your years. 
 
 Marg. Too few to match with yours : 
 And choicest fruits too soon plucked, rot 
 
 and wither. 
 
 Lov. Do you think I am old ? 
 Marg. I am sure I am too young. 
 Lov. I can advance you. 
 Marg. To a hill of sorrow ; 
 Where" every hour I may expect to fall, 
 
4*5 
 
 A NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS. 
 
 But never hope firm footing. You are noble, 
 I of a low descent, however rich ; 
 And tissues match'd with scarlet suit but ill. 
 O, my good lord, I could say more, but that 
 I dare not trust these walls. 
 Lov . Pray you, trust my ear then. 
 
 Re-enter Overreach behind, listening. 
 
 Over. Close at it ! whispering ! this is ex- 
 cellent ! 
 
 And, by their postures, a consent on both 
 parts. 
 
 Re-enter Greedy behind. 
 
 Greedy. Sir Giles, Sir Giles ! 
 
 Over. The great fiend stop that clapper ! 
 
 Greedy. It must ring out, sir, when my 
 
 belly rings noon. 
 The baked-meats are run out, the roast turn'd 
 
 powder. 
 
 Over. I shall powder you. 
 Greedy. Beat me to dust, I care not ; 
 In such a cause as this, I'll die a martyr. 
 Over. Marry, and shall, you barathrum of 
 the shambles ! {Strikes him. 
 
 Greedy. How ! strike a justice of peace ! 
 
 'tis petty treason, 
 
 Edwardi quinto : but that you are my friend, 
 I would commit you without bail or main- 
 prize. 
 Over. Leave your bawling, sir, or I shall 
 
 commit you 
 \\Tiere you shall not dine to-day : disturb my 
 
 lord, 
 When he is in discourse ! 
 
 Greedy. Is't a time to talk 
 When we should be munching ? 
 Lav. Hah ! I heard some noise. 
 Over. Mum, villain ; vanish ! shall we 
 
 break a bargain 
 Almost made up ? [ Thrusts Greedy off. 
 
 Lov. Lady, I understand you, 
 And rest most happy in your choice, believe 
 
 it ; 
 
 I'll be a careful pilot to direct 
 Your yet uncertain bark to a port of safety. 
 Marg. So shall your honour save two lives, 
 
 and bind us 
 Your slaves for ever. 
 
 Lov. I am in the act rewarded, 
 Since it is good ; howe'er, you must put on 
 An amorous carriage towards me to delude 
 Your subtle father 
 
 Marg. I am prone to that. 
 
 Lov. Now break we off our conference. 
 
 Sir Giles ! 
 Where is Sir Giles ? 
 
 [Overreach comes forward. 
 
 Re-enter All worth, Marrall, and Greedy. 
 
 Over. My noble lord ; and how 
 Does your lordship find her? 
 
 Lov. Apt, Sir Giles, and coming ; 
 And I like her the better. 
 Over. So do I too. 
 Lov. Yet should we take forts at the first 
 
 assault, 
 
 'Twere poor in the defendant ; I must con- 
 firm her 
 
 With a love-letter or two, which I must have 
 
 Deliver'd by my page, and you give way to't. 
 
 Over. With all my soul : a towardly 
 
 gentleman ! 
 Your hand, good master Allworth ; know 
 
 my house 
 
 Is ever open to you. 
 
 All. 'Twas shut till now. {Aside. I 
 
 Over. Well done, well done, my honour- j 
 
 able daughter ! 
 
 Thou'rt so already : know this gentle youth, ! 
 And cherish him, my honourable daughter. I 
 Marg. I shall, with my best care. 
 
 {Noise within, as of a coach. \ 
 Over. A coach ! 
 Greedy. More stops 
 Before we go to dinner ! O my guts ! 
 
 Enter I^ady Allworth and Wellborn. 
 
 L. All. If I find welcome, 
 You share in it ; if not, I'll back again, 
 Now I know your ends ; for I come arm'd j 
 
 for all 
 
 Can be objected. 
 Lov . How ! the lady Allworth ! 
 Over. And thus atte'nded ! 
 [Lovell salutes Lady Allworth, Lady j 
 
 Allworth salutes Margaret. 
 Mar. No, I am a dolt / 
 The spirit of lies hath enter d me ! 
 
 Over. Peace, Patch ; 
 'Tis more than wonder ! an astonishment 
 That does possess me wholly ! 
 
 Lov. Noble lady, 
 
 This is a favour, to prevent my visit, 
 The service of my life can never equal. 
 L. All. My lord, I laid wait for you, and 
 
 much hoped 
 You would have made my poor house your 
 
 first inn : 
 And therefore doubting that you might 
 
 forget me, 
 Or too long dwell here, having such ample 
 
 cause, 
 
 In this unequall'd beauty, for your stay ; 
 And fearing to trust any but myself 
 With the relation of my service' to you, 
 
A NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS, 
 
 407 
 
 I borrow'd so much from my long restraint, 
 And took the air in person to invite you. 
 Lov. Your bounties are so great, they 
 
 rob me, madam, 
 Of words to give you thanks. 
 
 L. All. Good s'ir Giles Overreach. 
 
 [Salutes him. 
 How dost thou, Marrall? liked you my 
 
 meat so ill, 
 You'll dine no more with me ? 
 
 Greedy. I will, when you please, 
 An it like your ladyship. 
 
 L. All. When you please, master Greedy ; 
 If meat can do it, you shall be satisfied. 
 ! And now, my lord, pray take into your 
 
 knowledge 
 
 This gentleman ; howe'er hisoutside's coarse, 
 [Presents Wellborn. 
 His inward linings are as fine and fair 
 As any man's ; wonder not I speak at large : 
 i And howsoe'er his humour carries him 
 To be thus accoutred, or what taint so- 
 ever, 
 
 For his wild life, hath stuck upon his fame, 
 He may, ere long, with boldness, rank him- 
 self 
 With some that have contemn'd him. Sir 
 
 Giles Overreach, 
 If I am welcome, bid him so. 
 
 Over. My nephew ! 
 He has been too long a stranger : faith you 
 
 have, 
 Pray let it be mended. 
 
 [Lovell confers aside with Wellborn. 
 Mar. Why, sir, what do you mean? 
 This is rogue Wellborn, monster, prodigy, 
 That should hang or drcnvn himself; no 
 
 man of worship, 
 Much less your nephew. 
 
 Over. Well, sirrah, we shall reckon 
 For this hereafter. 
 
 Mar. I'll not lose my jeer, 
 Though I be beaten dead for't 
 Well. Let my silence plead 
 i In my excuse, my lord, till better leisure 
 ! Offer itself to hear a full relation 
 | Of my poor fortunes. 
 
 Lov . I would hear, and help them. 
 Over. Your dinner waits you. 
 Lov. Pray you lead, we follow. 
 L. All. Nay, you are my guest ; come, 
 dear master Wellborn. 
 
 [Exeunt all but Greedy. 
 Greedy. Dear Master Wellborn ! So she 
 
 said : heaven ! heaven ! 
 If my belly would give me leave, I could 
 
 ruminate 
 
 All day on this : I have granted twenty 
 warrants 
 
 To have him committed, from all prisons in 
 
 the shire, 
 To Nottingham gaol ; and now, Dear 
 
 Master Wellborn! 
 
 And, My good nephew ! but I play the fool 
 To stand here prating, and forget my dinner. 
 
 Re-enter Marrall. 
 
 Are they set, Marrall ? 
 
 Mar. Long since ; pray you a word, sir. 
 
 Greedy. No wording now. 
 
 Mar. In troth, I must ; my master, 
 Knowing you are his good friend, makes ' 
 
 bold with you, 
 And does entreat you, more guests being 
 
 come in 
 
 Than he expected, especially his nephew, 
 The table being full too, you would excuse 
 
 him, 
 And sup with him on the cold meat. 
 
 Greedy. How ! no dinner, 
 After all my care? 
 
 Mar. 'Tis but a penance for 
 A meal ; besides, you broke your fast. 
 
 Greedy. That was 
 
 But a bit to stay my stomach : a man in com- 
 mission, 
 Give place to a tatterdemalion ! 
 
 Mar. No bug words, sir ; 
 Should his worship hear you 
 
 Greedy. Lose my dumpling too, 
 And butter'd toasts, and woodcocks ! 
 
 Mar. Come, have patience. 
 If you will dispense a little with your worship, 
 And sit with the waiting women, you'll have 
 
 dumpling, 
 Woodcock, and butter'd toasts too. 
 
 Greedy. This revives me : 
 I will gorge there sufficiently. 
 
 Mar. This is the way, sir. {Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE III. Another Room in Over- 
 reach's House. 
 
 Enter Overreach, as from dinner. 
 Over. She's caught ! O women ! she 
 
 neglects my lord, 
 
 And all her compliments applied to Well- 
 born ! 
 
 The garments of her widowhood laid by, 
 She now appears as glorious as the spring. 
 Her eyes fix'd on him, in the wine she drinks, 
 He being her pledge, she sends him burn- 
 ing kisses, 
 And sits on thorns, till she be private with 
 
 him. 
 
 She leaves my meat, to feed upon his looks : 
 And if in our discourse he be but named, 
 From her a deep sigh follows. But why 
 grieve I 
 
4 o8 
 
 A NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS. 
 
 At this ! it makes for me ; if she prove his, 
 All that is hers is mine, as I will work him. 
 
 Enter Marrall. 
 
 Mar. Sir, the whole board is troubled at 
 
 your rising. 
 Over. No matter, I'll excuse it : prithee, 
 
 Marrall, 
 
 Watch an occasion to invite my nephew 
 To speak with me in private. 
 
 Mar. Who ! the rogue 
 
 The lady scorn d to look on f 
 
 Over. You are a wag. 
 
 Enter Lady Allworth and Wellborn. 
 
 Mar. See, sir, she's come, and cannot be 
 
 without him. 
 L. All. With your favour, sir, after a 
 
 plenteous dinner, 
 
 I shall make bold to walk a turn or two, 
 In your rare garden. 
 
 Over. There's an arbour too, 
 If your ladyship please to use it. 
 L. All. Come, master Wellborn. 
 
 [Exeunt Lady Allworth and Wellborn. 
 Over. Grosser and grosser ! now I believe 
 
 the poet 
 Feign 'd not, but was historical, when he 
 
 wrote 
 
 Pasiphae was enamour 'd of a bull : 
 This lady's lust's more monstrous. My 
 good lord, 
 
 Enter Lord Lovell, Margaret, and the rest. 
 
 Excuse my manners. 
 
 Lov. There needs none, sir Giles, 
 1 may ere long say Father, when it pleases 
 My dearest mistress to give warrant to it. 
 
 Over. She shall seal to it, my lord, and 
 make me happy. 
 
 Re-enter Wellborn and Lady Allworth. 
 
 Marg. My lady is return'd. 
 L. All. Provide my coach, 
 I'll instantly away ; my thanks, sir Giles, 
 For my entertainment. 
 
 Over. 'Tis your nobleness 
 To think it such. 
 
 L. All. I must do you a further wrong, 
 In taking away your honourable guest. 
 Lov. I wait on you, madam ; farewell, 
 
 good sir Giles. 
 L. All. Good mistress Margaret ! nay, 
 
 come, master Wellborn, 
 I must not leave you behind ; in sooth, I 
 
 must not. 
 
 Over. Rob me not, madam, of all joys at 
 once ; 
 
 Let my nephew stay behind : he shall have 
 
 my coach, 
 
 And, after some small conference between us, 
 Soon overtake your ladyship. 
 L. All. Stay not long, sir. 
 Lov. This parting kiss : [Kisses Margaret.] 
 
 you shall every day hear from me, 
 By my faithful page. 
 All. 'Tis a service I am proud of. 
 
 [Exeunt Lord Lovell, Lady Allworth, 
 
 Allworth, and Marrall. 
 Over. Daughter, to your chamber. [Exit 
 Margaret.] You may wonder, nephew. 
 After so long an enmity between us, 
 I should desire your friendship. 
 
 Well. So I do, sir ; 
 'Tis strange to me. 
 
 Over. But I'll make it no wonder ; 
 And what is more, unfold my nature to you. 
 We worldly men, when we see friends, and 
 
 kinsmen, 
 Past hope sunk in their fortunes, lend no 
 
 hand 
 
 To lift them up. but rather set our feet 
 Upon their heads, to press them to the 
 
 bottom ; 
 
 As, I must yield, with you I practised it : 
 But, now I see you in a way to rise, 
 I can and will assist you ; this rich lady 
 (And I am glad oft) is enamour'd of you ; 
 'Tis too apparent, nephew. 
 
 Well. No such thing: 
 Compassion rather, sir. 
 
 Over. Well, in a word, 
 Because your stay is short, I'll have you 
 
 seen 
 No more in this base shape ; nor shall she 
 
 say, 
 
 She married you like a beggar, or in debt. 
 Well. He'll run into the noose, and save 
 my labour. [Aside. 
 
 Over. You have a trunk of rich clothes, 
 
 not far hence, 
 In pawn ; I will redeem them ; and that no 
 
 clamour 
 
 May taint your credit for your petty debts, 
 You shall 'have a thousand pounds to cut 
 
 them off, 
 
 And go a free man to the wealthy lady. 
 Well. This done, sir, out of love, and no 
 
 ends else 
 
 Over. As it is, nephew. 
 
 Well. Binds me still your servant. 
 
 Over. No compliments, you are staid for : 
 
 ere you have supp'd 
 You shall hear from me. My coach, knaves, 
 
 for my nephew. 
 To-morrow I will visit you. 
 Well. Here's an uncle 
 
A. NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS. 
 
 409 
 
 In a man's extremes! how much they do 
 
 belie you, 
 That say you are hard-hearted ! 
 
 Over. My deeds, nephew. 
 Shall speak my love ; what men report I 
 
 weigh not. [Exeunt. 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 SCENE I. A Room in Lady All worth's 
 House. 
 
 Enter Lord Lovell and All worth. 
 
 Lov. 'Tis well ; give me my cloak ; I now 
 
 discharge you 
 
 From further service : mind your own affairs, 
 I hope they will prove^guccessful. 
 
 All. WhatisblesT 
 With your good wish, my lord, cannot but 
 
 prosper. 
 
 Let aftertimes report, and to your honour, 
 How much I stand engaged, for I want lan- 
 guage 
 
 To speak my debt ; yet if a tear or two 
 Of joy, for your much goodness, can supply 
 
 My tongue's defects, I could 
 
 Lov. Nay, do not melt : 
 This ceremonial thanks to me's superfluous. 
 Over, [within.'] Is my lord stirring ? 
 Lov. 'Tis he ! oh, here's your letter : let 
 him in. 
 
 Enter Overreach, Greedy, and Marrall. 
 
 Over. A good day to my lord ! 
 Lov. You are an early riser, 
 Sir Giles. 
 
 Over. And reason, to attend your lordship. 
 Lov. And you, too, master Greedy, up so 
 
 soon ! 
 Greedy. In troth, my lord, after the sun 
 
 is up, 
 
 I cannot sleep, for I have a foolish stomach 
 That croaks for breakfast. With your lord- 
 ship's favour, 
 
 I have a serious question to demand 
 Of my worthy friend sir Giles. 
 Lov. Pray you use your pleasure. 
 Greedy. How far, sir Giles, and pray you 
 
 answer me 
 
 Upon your credit, hold you it to be 
 From your manor-house, to this of my lady 
 
 Allworth's? 
 
 Over. Why, some four mile. 
 Greedy. How ! four mile, good sir 
 
 Giles 
 
 Upon your reputation, think better ; 
 For if you do abate but one half-quarter 
 Of five, you do yourself the greatest wrong 
 
 That can be in the world ; for four miles 
 
 riding, 
 
 Could not have raised so huge an appetite 
 As I feel gnawing on me. 
 
 Mar. Whether you ride, 
 Or go afoot, you are that way still provided, 
 An it please your worship. 
 
 Over. How now, sirrah ? prating 
 Before my lord ! no difference ! Go to my 
 
 nephew, 
 See all his debts discharged, and help his 
 
 worship 
 To fit on his rich suit. 
 
 Mar. I may fit you too. 
 Toss'd like a dog still ! [Aside, and exit.. 
 
 Lov. I have writ this morning 
 A few lines to my mistress, your fair 
 
 daughter. 
 Over. Twill fire her, for she's wholly 
 
 yours already : 
 Sweet master Allworth, take my ring ; 'twill 
 
 carry you 
 To her presence, I dare warrant you ; and 
 
 there plead 
 
 For my good lord, if you shall find occasion. 
 That done, pray ride to Nottingham, get a. 
 
 license, 
 
 Still by this token. I'll have it dispatch'd, 
 And suddenly, my lord, that I may say, 
 My honourable, nay, right honourable 
 
 daughter. 
 
 Greedy. Take my advice, young gentle- 
 man, get your breakiast ; 
 'Tis unwholesome to ride fasting: I'll eat. 
 
 with you, 
 And eat to purpose. 
 
 Over. Some Fury's in that gut : 
 Hungry again ! did you not devour, this 
 
 morning, 
 
 A shield of brawn, and a barrel of Colches- 
 ter oysters ? 
 Greedy. Why, that was, sir, only to scour 
 
 my stomach, 
 
 A kind of a preparative. Come, gentleman,. 
 I will not have you feed like the hangman 
 
 of Flushing, 
 Alone, while I am here. 
 Lov. Haste your return. 
 All. I will not fail, my lord. 
 Greedy. Nor I, to line 
 My Christmas coffer. 
 
 [Exeunt Greedy and Allworth. 
 Over. To my wish : we are private. 
 I come not to make offer with my daughter 
 A certain portion, that were poor and trivial : 
 In one word, I pronounce all that is mine, 
 In lands or leases, ready coin or goods, 
 With her, my lord, comes to you ; nor shall 
 you have 
 
A NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS. 
 
 One motive, to induce you to believe 
 I live too long, since every year I'll add 
 Something unto the heap, which shall be 
 
 yours too. 
 
 Lov. You are a right kind father. 
 Over. You shall have reason 
 To think me such. How do you like this 
 
 seat? 
 
 It is well wooded, and well water 'd, the acres 
 Fertile and rich ; would it not serve for 
 
 change, 
 
 To entertain your friends in a summer pro- 
 gress ? 
 
 What thinks my noble lord ? 
 Lov. 'Tis a wholesome air, 
 And well-built pile ; and she that's mistress 
 
 of it, 
 
 Worthy the large revenue. 
 Over. She the mistress ! 
 I It may be so for a time : but let my lord 
 Say only that he likes it, and would have it, 
 I say, ere long 'tis his. 
 Lov. Impossible. 
 Over. You do conclude too fast, not 
 
 knowing me, 
 Nor the engines that I work by. 'Tis not 
 
 alone 
 The lady Allworth's lands, for those once 
 
 Wellborn's, 
 (As by her dotage on him I know they will 
 
 be,) 
 
 Shall soon be mine ; but point out any man's 
 In all the shire, and say they lie convenient, 
 And useful for your lordship, and once more 
 I say aloud, they are yours. 
 
 Lov. I dare not own 
 
 What's by unjust and cruel means extorted ; 
 My fame and credit are more dear to me, 
 Than so to expose them to be censured by 
 The public voice. 
 
 Over. You run, my lord, no hazard. 
 Your reputation shall stand as fair, 
 In all good men's opinions, as now ; 
 Nor can mv actions, though condemn "d for 
 
 ill, 
 
 Cast any foul aspersion upon yours. 
 For, though I do contemn report myself, 
 As a mere sound, I still will be so tender 
 Of what concerns you, in all points of 
 
 honour, 
 That the immaculate whiteness of your 
 
 fame, 
 
 Nor your unquestioned integrity, 
 Shall e'er be sullied with one taint or spot 
 That may take from your innocence and 
 
 candour. 
 
 All my ambition is to have my daughter 
 Right honourable, which my lord can make 
 her: 
 
 And might I live to dance upon my knee 
 A young lord Lovell, born by her unto you, 
 I write nil ultra to my proudest hopes. 
 As for possessions, and annual rents, 
 Equivalent to maintain you in the port 
 Your noble birth, and present state requires, 
 I do remove that burthen from your shoul- 
 ders, 
 And take it on mine own : for, though I 
 
 The country to supply your riotous waste, 
 The scourge of prodigals, want, shall never , 
 
 find you. 
 Lov. Are you not frighted with the im- : 
 
 precations 
 
 And curses of whole families, made wretched^ / 
 By your sinister practices ? 
 'Over. Yes, as rocks are, 
 When foamy billows split themselves against: 
 Their flinty ribs ; or as the moon is moved, 
 When wolves, with hunger pined, howl at 
 
 her brightness. 
 
 I am of a solid temper, and, like these, 
 Steer on, a constant course : with mine own 
 
 sword, 
 If call'd into the field, I can make that 
 
 right, 
 Which fearful enemies murmur'd at as 
 
 wrong. 
 
 Now, for these other piddling complaints 
 Breath 'd out in bitterness ; as when they 
 
 call me 
 
 Extortioner, tyrant, cormorant, or intruder 
 On my poor neighbour's right, or grand in- 
 closer 
 
 Of what was common, to my private use ; 
 Nay, when my ears are pierced with widows' \ 
 
 cries, 
 And undone orphans wash with tears my 
 
 threshold, 
 
 I only think what 'tis to have my daughter 
 Right honourable ; and 'tis a powerful 
 
 charm 
 
 Makes me insensible of remorse, or pity, 
 Or the least sting of conscience. 
 
 Lov. I admire 
 The toughness of your nature. 
 
 Over. Tis for you, 
 
 My lord, and for my daughter, I am marble ; 
 Nay more, if you will have my character 
 In little, I enjoy more true delight, 
 In my arrival to my wealth these dark 
 And crooked ways, than you shall e'er take 
 
 pleasure 
 In spending what my industry hath com- 
 
 pass'd. 
 My haste commands me hence ; in one 
 
 word, therefore, 
 Is it a match ? 
 
A NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS. 
 
 411 
 
 Lov. I hope, that is past doubt now. 
 Over. Then rest secure ; not the hate of 
 all mankind here, 
 
 Nor fear of what can fall on me hereafter, 
 
 Shall make me study aught but your ad- 
 vancement 
 
 One story higher : an earl ! if gold can do it. 
 
 Dispute not my religion, nor my faith ; 
 
 Though I am borne thus headlong by my 
 will, 
 
 You may make choice of what belief you 
 please, 
 
 To me they are equal ; so, my lord, good 
 morrow. [Exit. 
 
 Lov. He's gone I wonder how the earth 
 can bear 
 
 Such a portent ! I, that have lived a soldier, 
 
 And stood the enemy's violent charge un- 
 daunted, 
 
 To hear this blasphemous beast am bath'd 
 all over 
 
 In a cold sweat : yet, like a mountain, he 
 
 Confirm'd in atheistical assertions) 
 s no more shaken than Olympus is 
 
 When angry Boreas loads his double head 
 
 With sudden drifts of snow. 
 
 Enter Lady Allworth, Waiting Woman, 
 and Amble. 
 
 L. All. Save you, my lord ! 
 Disturb I not your privacy ? 
 
 Lov. No, good madam ; 
 For your own sake I am glad you came no 
 
 sooner : 
 
 Since this bold bad man, sir Giles Over- 
 reach, 
 
 Made such a plain discovery of himself, 
 And read this morning such a devilish ma- 
 tins, 
 
 That I should think it a sin next to his 
 But to repeat it. 
 
 L. All. I ne'er press'd, my lord, 
 On others' privacies ; yet, against my will, 
 Walking, for health sake, in the gallery 
 Adjoining to your lodgings, I was made 
 (So vehement and loud he was) partaker 
 Of his tempting offers. 
 
 Lov. Please you to command 
 Your servants hence, and I shall gladly hear 
 Your wiser counsel. 
 
 L. All. 'Tis, my lord, a woman's, 
 But true and hearty ; wait in the next 
 
 room, 
 But be within call ; yet not so near to force 
 
 me 
 To whisper my intents. 
 
 Amb. We are taught better 
 By you, good madam. 
 
 Woman. And well know outdistance. 
 
 L. All. Do so, and talk not ; 'twill be- 
 come your breeding. 
 
 {Exeunt Amble and Woman. 
 Now, my good lord : if I may use my free- 
 dom, 
 
 As to an honour'd friend 
 
 Lov. You lessen else 
 Your favour to me. 
 
 L. All. I dare then say thus ; 
 As you are noble (howe'er common men 
 Make sordid wealth the object and sole end 
 Of their industrious aims) 'twill not agree 
 With those of eminent blood, who are en- 
 gaged 
 
 More to prefer their honours, than to in- 
 crease 
 
 The state left to them by their ancestors, 
 To study large additions to their fortunes, 
 And quite neglect their births : though I 
 
 must gram, 
 
 Riches, well got, to be a useful servant, 
 But a bad master. 
 
 Lov. Madam, 'tis confess 'd; 
 But what infer you from it ? 
 
 L. All. This, my lord ; 
 That as all wrongs* though thrust into one 
 
 scale, 
 Slide of themselves off, when right fills the 
 
 other, 
 
 And cannot bide the trial ; so all wealth, 
 I mean if ill-acquired, cemented to honour 
 By virtuous ways achieved, and bravely 
 
 purchased, 
 
 Is but as rubbish pour'd into a river, 
 (Howe'er intended to make good the bank,) 
 Rendering the water, that was pure before, 
 Polluted and unwholesome. I allow 
 The heir of sir Giles Overreach, Margaret, 
 A maid well qualified, and the richest match 
 Our north part can make boast of ; yet she 
 
 cannot, 
 With all that she brings with her, fill their 
 
 mouths, 
 
 That never will forget who was her father ; 
 Or that my husband Allworth's lands, and 
 
 Wellborn's, 
 
 j (How wrung from both needs now no repe- 
 tition,) 
 Were real motives that more work'd your 
 
 lordship 
 To join your families, than hej form and 
 
 virtues : 
 
 You may conceive the rest. 
 Lov. I do, sweet madam, 
 And long since have considered it. I know, 
 The sum of all that makes a just man happy 
 Consists in the well choosing of his wife : 
 And there, well to discharge it, does require 
 Equality of years, of birth, of fortune ; 
 
 \ 
 
A NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS. 
 
 For beauty being poor, and not cried up 
 By birth or wealth, can truly mix with neither. 
 And wealth, where there's such difference in 
 
 years, 
 And fair descent, must make the yoke 
 
 uneasy : 
 But I come nearer. 
 L. All. Pray you do, my lord. 
 Lov. Were Overreach' states thrice cen- 
 tupled, his daughter 
 
 Millions of degrees much fairer than she is, 
 Howe'er I might urge precedents to excuse 
 
 me, 
 
 I would not so adulterate my blood 
 By marrying Margaret, and so leave my issue 
 Made up of several pieces, one part scarlet, 
 And the other London blue. In my own 
 
 tomb 
 I will inter my name first. 
 
 L. All. I am glad to hear this. 
 
 [Aside. 
 Why then, my lord, pretend your marriage 
 
 to her? 
 
 Dissimulation but ties false knots 
 On that straight line, by which you, hitherto, 
 Have measured all your actions. 
 
 Lov. I make answer, 
 And aptly, with a question. Wherefore have 
 
 you, 
 That, since your husband's death, have lived 
 
 a strict 
 And chaste nun's life, on the sudden given 
 
 yourself 
 To visits and entertainments? think you, 
 
 madam, 
 'Tis not grown public conference? or the 
 
 favours 
 Which you too prodigally have thrown on 
 
 Wellborn, 
 
 Being too reserved before, incur not censure? 
 L. All. I am innocent here ; and, on my 
 
 life, I swear 
 My ends are good. 
 
 Lov. On my soul, so are mine 
 To Margaret ; but leave both to the event : 
 And since this friendly privacy does serve 
 But as an offer' d means unto ourselves, 
 To search each other further, you having 
 
 shewn 
 
 Your care of me, I my respect to you ; 
 Deny me not, but still in chaste words, 
 
 madam, 
 
 An afternoon's discourse. 
 L. All. So I shall hear you. {Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE II. Before Tapwell's House. 
 
 Enter Tapwell and Froth. 
 Tap. Undone, undone ! this was your 
 counsel, Froth. 
 
 Froth. Mine ! I defy thee : did not master 
 
 Marrall 
 
 (He has marr'd all, I am sure) strictly com- 
 mand us, 
 
 On pain of sir Giles Overreach' displeasure,. 
 To turn the gentleman out of doors ? 
 
 Tap. 'Tis true ; 
 
 But now he's his uncle's darling, and has got 
 Master justice Greedy, since he fill'd his belly, 
 At his commandment, to do anything ; 
 Woe, woe to us ! 
 
 Froth. He may prove merciful. 
 
 Tap. Troth, we do not deserve it at his 
 
 hands. 
 Though he knew all the passages of our 
 
 house, 
 
 As the receiving of stolen goods, and bawdry, 
 When he was rogue Wellborn no man would 
 
 believe him, 
 
 And then his information could not hurt us ; 
 But now he is right worshipful again, 
 Who dares but doubt his testimony? me- 
 
 thinks, 
 
 I see thee, Froth, already in a cart, 
 For a close bawd, thine eyes even pelted out 
 With dirt and rotten eggs ; and my hand, 
 
 hissing, 
 
 If I scape the halter, with the letter R 
 Printed upon it. 
 
 Froth. Would that were the worst ! 
 That were but nine days wonder : as for 
 
 credit, 
 We have none to lose, but we shall lose the 
 
 money 
 He owes us, and his custom ; there's the 
 
 hell on't. 
 Tap. He has summon'd all his creditors 
 
 by the drum, 
 And they swarm about him like so many 
 
 soldiers 
 On the pay day : and has found out such a 
 
 NEW WAY 
 
 To PAY HIS OLD DEBTS, as 'tis very likely 
 He shall be chronicled for it ! 
 
 Froth. He deserves it 
 More than ten pageants. But are you sure 
 
 his worship 
 Comes this way, to my lady's? 
 
 [A cry within : Brave master Wellborn \ 
 Tap. Yes : I hear him. 
 Froth. Be ready with your petition, and 
 
 present it 
 To his good grace. 
 
 Enter Wellborn in a rich habit, followed by 
 Marrall, Greedy, Order, Furnace, and 
 Creditors ; Tapwell kneeling, delivers his 
 petition. 
 
 Well. How's this ! petition'd too ? 
 
A NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS. 
 
 But note what miracles the payment of 
 A little trash, and a rich suit of clothes 
 Can work upon these rascals ! I shall be, 
 I think, prince Wellborn. 
 
 Mar. When your worship's married, 
 You may be : I know what I hope to see you. 
 Well. Then look thou for advancement. 
 Mar. To be known 
 
 Your worship's bailiff, is the mark I shoot at. 
 Well. And thou shalt hit it. 
 Afar. Pray you, sir, dispatch 
 These needy followers, and for my ad- 
 mittance, 
 
 Provided you'll defend me from sir Giles, 
 Whose service I am weary of, I'll say some- 
 thing 
 
 You shall give thanks for. 
 Well. Fear me not sir Giles. 
 Greedy. Who, Tapwell ? I remember thy 
 
 wife brought me, 
 
 Last new-year's tide, a couple of fat turkies. 
 Tap. And shall do every Christmas, let 
 
 your worship 
 But stand my friend now. 
 
 Greedy. How ! with master Wellborn ? 
 I can do anything with him on such terms. 
 See you this honest couple, they are good 
 
 souls 
 
 As ever drew out fosset ; have they not 
 A pair of honest faces ? 
 
 Well. I o'erheard you, 
 And the bribe he promised. You are cozen'd 
 
 in them ; 
 For, of all the scum that grew rich by my 
 
 riots, 
 
 This, for a most unthankful knave, and this, 
 For a base bawd and whore, have worst de- 
 
 serv'd me, 
 And therefore speak not for them : by your 
 
 place 
 You are rather to do me justice ; lend me 
 
 your ear : 
 
 Forget his turkies, and call in his license 
 And, at the next fair, I'll give you a yoke of 
 
 oxen 
 Worth all his poultry. 
 
 Greedy. I am changed on the sudden 
 In my opinion ! come near ; nearer, rascal. 
 And, now I view him better, did you e'er see 
 One look so like an archknave? his very 
 
 countenance, 
 Should an understanding judge but look 
 
 upon him, 
 
 Would hang him, though he were innocent. 
 Tap. Froth. Worshipful sir. 
 Greedy. No, though the great Turk came, 
 
 instead of turkies, 
 
 To beg my favour, I am inexorable. 
 Thou hast an ill name : besides thy musty ale. 
 
 That hath destroyed many of the king's liege 
 
 people, 
 Thou never hadst in thy house, to stay men's 
 
 stomachs, 
 A piece of Suffolk cheese, or gammon of 
 
 bacon, 
 
 Or any esculent, as the learn'd call it, 
 For their emolument, but sheer drink only. 
 For which gross fault I here do damn thy 
 
 license, 
 
 Forbidding thee ever to tap or draw ; 
 For, instantly, I will, in mine own person, 
 Command the constable to pull down thy sign, 
 And do it before I eat. 
 Froth. No mercy ? 
 Greedy. Vanish ! 
 If I shew any, may my promised oxen gore 
 
 me ! 
 
 Tap. Unthankful knaves are ever so re- 
 warded. 
 
 {Exeunt Greedy, Tapwell, and Froth. 
 Well. Speak ; what are you ? 
 i Cred. A decay'd vintner, sir, 
 That might have thrived, but that your 
 
 worship broke me 
 
 With trusting you with muskadine and eggs, 
 And five pound suppers, with your after 
 
 drinkings, 
 
 When you lodged upon the Bankside. 
 Well. I remember. 
 
 1 Cred. I have not been hasty, nor e'er 
 laid to arrest you ; 
 
 And therefore, sir 
 
 Well. Thou art an honest fellow, 
 I'll set thee up again ; see his bill paid. 
 What are you ? 
 
 2 Cred. A tailor once, but now mere 
 botcher. 
 
 I gave you credit for a suit of clothes, 
 Which was all my stock, but you failing in 
 
 payment, 
 I was removed from the shopboard, and 
 
 confined 
 Under a stall. 
 
 Well. See him paid ; and botch no more. 
 2 Cred. I ask no interest, sir. 
 Well. Such tailors need not ; 
 If their bills are paid in one and twenty year, 
 They are seldom losers. O, I know thv face, 
 [To 3 Cred. 
 Thou wert my surgeon : you must tell no 
 
 tales ; 
 Those days are done. I will pay you in 
 
 private. 
 
 Ord. A royal gentleman ! 
 Furn. Royal as an emperor ! 
 He'll prove a brave master ; my good lady 
 
 knew 
 To choose a man. 
 
414 
 
 A NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS. 
 
 Well. See all men else discharg'd ; 
 And since old debts are clear'd by a new way, 
 A little bounty will not misbecome me ; 
 There's something, honest cook, for thy 
 
 good breakfasts ; 
 And this, for your respect ; [To Order.] 
 
 take't, 'tis good gold, 
 And I able to spare it. 
 
 Ord. You are too munificent. . 
 Furn. He was ever so. 
 Well. Pray you, on before. 
 3 Cred. Heaven bless you ! 
 Mar. At four o'clock ; the rest know 
 
 where to meet me. 
 
 [Exeunt Order, Furnace, and Creditors. 
 Well. Now, master Marrall, what's the 
 
 weighty secret 
 You promised to impart ? 
 
 Afar. Sir, time nor place 
 Allow me to relate each circumstance, 
 This only, in a word ; I know sir Giles 
 Will come upon you for security 
 For his thousand pounds, which you must 
 
 not consent to. 
 
 As he grows in heat, as I am sure he will, 
 Be you but rough, and say he's in your debt 
 Ten times the sum, upon sale of your land ; 
 I had a hand in't (I speak it to my shame) 
 When you were defeated of it. 
 Well. That's forgiven. 
 Mar. I shall deserve it : then urge him to 
 
 produce 
 
 The deed in which you pass'd it over to him, 
 Which I know he'll have about him, to de- 
 liver 
 
 To the lord Lovell, with many other writings, 
 And present monies : I'll instruct you further, 
 As I wait on your worship : if I play not my 
 
 prize 
 To your full content, and your uncle's much 
 
 vexation, 
 Hang up Jack Marrall. 
 
 Well. I rely upon thee. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE III. A Room in Overreach's 
 
 House. 
 
 Enter Allworth and Margaret. 
 All. Whether to yield the first praise to 
 
 my lord's 
 Unequall'd temperance, or your constant 
 
 sweetness, 
 
 That I yet live, my weak hands fasten 'd on 
 Hope's anchor, spite of all storms of despair, 
 I yet rest doubtful. 
 
 Marg. Give it to lord Lovell ; 
 For what in him was bounty, in me's duty. 
 I make but payment of a debt to which 
 My vows, in that high office register 'd, 
 Are faithful witnesses. 
 
 All. 'Tis true, my dearest : 
 Yet, when I call to mind how many fair ones ! 
 Make wilful shipwreck of their faiths, and 
 
 oaths 
 
 To God and man, to fill the arms of great- 
 ness ; 
 
 And you rise up no less than a glorious star, 
 To the amazement of the world, that hold 
 
 out 
 
 Against the stern authority of a father, 
 And spurn at honour, when it comes to court 
 
 you ; 
 
 I am so tender of your good, that faintly, 
 With your wrong, I can wish myself that 
 
 right 
 You yet are pleased to do me. 
 
 Marg. Yet, and ever. 
 
 Tome what's title, when content is wanting? 
 Or wealth, raked up together with much 
 
 care, 
 And to be kept with more, when the heart 
 
 pines, 
 
 In being dispossess'd of what it longs for, 
 Beyond the Indian mines? or the smooth 
 
 brow 
 
 Of a pleased sire, that slaves me to his will ; 
 And so his ravenous humour maybe feasted 
 By my obedience, and he see me great, 
 Leaves to my soul nor faculties nor power 
 To make her own election ? 
 All. But the dangers 
 
 That follow the repulse 
 
 Marg. To me they are nothing ; 
 Let Allworth love, I cannot be unhappy. 
 Suppose the worst, that, in his rage, he' kill ; 
 
 me ; 
 
 A tear or two, by you dropt on my herse, 
 In sorrow for my fate, will call back life 
 So far as but to say, that I die yours ; 
 I then shall rest in peace : or should he 
 
 prove 
 
 So cruel, as one death would not suffice 
 His thirst of vengeance, but with lingering- \ 
 
 torments, 
 
 In mind and body, I must waste to air, 
 In poverty join'd with banishment ; so you. : 
 
 share 
 
 In my afflictions, which I dare not wish you,. 
 So high I prize you, I could undergo them ; 
 With such a patience as should look down - 
 With scorn on his worst malice. 
 
 All. Heaven avert 
 
 Such trials of your true affection to me ! 
 Nor will it unto you, that are all mercy, 
 Shew so much rigour : but since we must 
 
 . run 
 
 Such desperate hazards, let us do our best 
 To steer between them. 
 Marg. Your lord's ours, and sure ; 
 
A NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS. 
 
 415 
 
 And though but a young actor, second me 
 In doing to the life what he has plotted, 
 
 Enter Overreach behind. 
 
 The end may yet prove happy. Now, my 
 
 Allworth . [Seeing her father. 
 
 All. To your letter, and put on a seeming 
 
 anger. 
 Marg. I'll pay my lord all debts due to 
 
 his title ; 
 And when with terms, not taking from his 
 
 honour, 
 
 He does solicit me, I shall gladly hear him. 
 But in this peremptory, nay, commanding 
 
 way, 
 T' appoint a meeting, and, without my 
 
 knowledge, 
 
 A priest to tie the knot can ne'er be undone 
 Till death unloose it, is a confidence 
 In his lordship will deceive him. 
 
 All. I hope better, 
 Good lady. 
 
 Marg. Hope, sir, what you please: forme 
 I must take a safe and secure course ; I have 
 A father, and without his full consent, 
 Though all lords of the land kneel'd for my 
 
 favour, 
 I can grant nothing. 
 
 Over. I like this obedience : 
 
 [Comes forward. 
 But whatsoe'er my lord writes, must and 
 
 shall be 
 Accepted and embraced. Sweet master 
 
 Allworth, 
 
 You shew yourself a true and faithful servant 
 To your good lord ; he has a jewel of you. 
 How ! frowning, Meg ? are these looks to 
 
 receive 
 A messenger from my lord? what's this? 
 
 give me it. 
 Marg. A piece of arrogant paper, like the 
 
 inscriptions. 
 Over. [Reads.] Fair mistress, from your 
 
 servant learn, all joys 
 
 That we can hope for, ifdeferr'd, prove toys ; 
 Therefore this instant, and in private, meet 
 A husband, that will gladly at your feet 
 Lay down his honours, tendering them to you 
 With all content, the church being paid her 
 
 due. 
 
 Is this the arrogant piece of paper ? fool ! 
 Will you still be one ? in the name of mad- 
 ness what 
 
 Could his good honour write more to con- 
 tent you? 
 Is there aught else to be wish'd, after these 
 
 two, 
 That are already offer 'd ; marriage first, 
 
 And lawful pleasure after : what would you 
 
 more? 
 Marg. Why, sir, I would be married like 
 
 your daughter ; 
 Not hurried away i' the night I know not 
 
 whither, 
 
 Without all ceremony ; no friends invited 
 To honour the solemnity. 
 
 All. An't please your honour, 
 For so before to-morrow I must style you, 
 My lord desires this privacy, in respect 
 His honourable kinsmen are afar off, 
 And his desires to have it done, brook not 
 So long delay as to expect their coming ; 
 And yet he stands resolv'd, with all due 
 
 pomp, 
 As running at the ring, plays, masks, and 
 
 tilting, 
 
 To have his marriage at court celebrated, 
 When he has brought your honour up to 
 
 London. 
 Over. He tells you true ; 'tis the fashion, 
 
 on my knowledge : 
 
 Yet the good lord, to please your peevish- 
 ness, 
 
 Must put it off, forsooth ! and lose a night, 
 In which perhaps he might get two boys or* 
 
 thee. 
 
 Tempt me no further, if you do, this goad 
 [Points to his sword. 
 Shall prick you to him. ' 
 
 Marg. I could be contented, 
 Were you but by, to do a father's part, 
 And give me in the church. 
 
 Over. So my lord have you, 
 What do I care who gives you ? since my 
 
 lord 
 
 Does purpose to be private, I'll not cross him. 
 I know not, master Allworth, how my lord 
 May be provided, and therefore there's a 
 
 purse 
 Of gold, 'twill serve this night's expense \. 
 
 to-morrow 
 I'll furnish him with any sums : in the mean 
 
 time, 
 
 Use my ring to my chaplain ; he is beneficed 
 At my manor of Got'em, and call'd parson 
 
 Willdo : 
 'Tis no matter for a license, I'll bear him 
 
 out in't. 
 Marg. With your favour, sir, what warrant 
 
 is your ring ? 
 
 He may suppose I got that twenty ways, 
 Without your knowledge ; and then to be 
 
 refused, 
 Were such a stain upon me ! if you pleased,. 
 
 sir, 
 
 Your presence would do better. 
 Over. Still perverse ! 
 
4 i6 
 
 A NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS. 
 
 I say again, I will not cross my lord ; 
 
 Yet I'll prevent you too. Paper and ink, 
 
 there ! 
 
 All. I can furnish you. 
 Over, 1 thank you, I can write then. 
 
 [ Writes. 
 All. You may, if you please, put out the 
 
 name of my lord, 
 In respect he comes disguised, and only 
 
 write, 
 Marry her to this gentleman. 
 
 Over. Well advised. 
 'Tis done ; away ; [Margaret kneels. ,] My 
 
 blessing, girl ? thou hast it. 
 Nay, no reply, be gone : good master 
 
 Allvvorth, 
 This shall be the best night's work you ever 
 
 made. 
 All. I hope so, sir. 
 
 [Exeunt Allworth and Margaret. 
 Over. Farewell ! Now all's cocksure : 
 Methinks I hear already knights and ladies 
 Say, Sir Giles Overreach, how is it with 
 Your honourable daughter ! has her honour 
 Slept well to-night? or, will her honour 
 
 please 
 
 To accept this monkey, dog, or paroqueto, 
 (This is state in ladies,) or my eldest son 
 To be her page, and wait upon her trencher? 
 My ends, my ends are compass'd then for 
 
 Wellborn 
 And the lands ; were he once married to the 
 
 widow 
 
 I have him here I can scarce contain my- 
 
 self, 
 1 am so full of joy, nay, joy all over. [Exit. 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 SCENE I. A Room, in. Lady Allworth's 
 House. 
 
 Enter Lord Lovell, Lady Allworth, and 
 Amble. 
 
 L. All. By this you know how strong the 
 
 motives were 
 
 That did, my lord, induce me to dispense 
 A little, with my gravity, to advance 
 In personating some few favours to him, 
 The plots and projects of the down-trod 
 
 Wellborn. 
 
 Nor shall I e'er repent, although I suffer 
 In some few men's opinions for't, the action ; 
 For he that ventured all for my dear hus- 
 band, 
 
 Might justly claim an obligation from me, 
 To pay him such a courtesy ; which had I 
 Coyly, or over-curiously denied, 
 
 It might have argued me of little love 
 To the deceased. 
 
 Lov. What you intended, Madam, 
 For the poor gentleman, hath found good i 
 
 success ; 
 
 For, as I understand, his debts are paid, 
 And he once more furnish'd for fair employ- j 
 
 ment : 
 
 But all the arts that I have used to raise 
 The fortunes of your joy and mine, young | 
 
 Allworth, 
 
 Stand yet in supposition, though I hope well : ' 
 For the young lovers are in wit more i 
 
 pregnant 
 Than their years can promise ; and for their 
 
 desires, 
 On my knowledge, they are equal. 
 
 L. All. As my wishes 
 Are with yours, my lord ; yet give me leave 
 
 to fear 
 The building, though well grounded : to 
 
 deceive 
 
 Sir Giles, that's both a lion and a fox 
 In his proceedings, were a work beyond 
 The strongest undertakers ; not the trial 
 Of two weak innocents. 
 
 Lov. Despair not, madam : 
 Hard things are compass'd oft by easy i 
 
 means ; 
 And judgment, being a gift derived from I 
 
 heaven, 
 Though sometimes lodged in the hearts of j 
 
 worldly men, 
 That ne'er consider from whom they receive i 
 
 it, 
 
 Forsakes such as abuse the giver of it. 
 Which is the reason that the politic 
 And cunning statesman, that believes he 
 
 fathoms 
 
 The counsels of all kingdoms on the ea*rth, 
 Is by simplicity oft over-reach'd. 
 L. All. May he be so ! yet, in his name 
 
 to express it, 
 Is a good omen. 
 
 Lov. May it to myself 
 Prove so, good lady, in my suit to you ! 
 What think you of the motion? 
 
 L. All. Troth, my lord, 
 My own unworthiness may answer for me ; 
 For had you, when that I was in my prime, 
 My virgin flower uncropp'd, presented me 
 With this great favour ; looking on my low- 
 ness 
 
 Not in a glass of self-love, but of truth, 
 I could not but have thought it, as a blessing 
 Far, far beyond my merit. 
 
 Lov. You are too modest, 
 And undervalue that which is above 
 My title, or whatever I call mine. 
 
A NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS. 
 
 417 
 
 I grant, were I a Spaniard, to marry 
 A widow might disparage me ; but being 
 A true-born Englishman, I cannot find 
 How it can taint my. honour : nay, what's 
 
 more, 
 
 That which you think a blemish, is to me 
 The fairest lustre. You already, madam, 
 Have given sure proofs how dearly you can 
 
 cherish 
 
 A husband that deserves you ; which con- 
 firms me, 
 
 That, if I am not wanting in my care 
 To do you service, you'll be still the same 
 That you were to your Allworth : in a word, 
 Our years, our states, our births are not un- 
 equal, 
 
 You being descended nobly, and allied so ; 
 If then you may be won to make me happy, 
 But join your lips to mine, and that shall be 
 A solemn contract. 
 
 L. All. I were blind to my own good, 
 Should I refuse it ; [Kisses him.} yet, my 
 
 lord, receive me 
 
 As such a one, the study of whose whole life 
 
 Shall know no other object but to please you. 
 
 Lov. If I return not, with all tenderness, 
 
 Equal respect to you, may I die wretched ! 
 
 L. AIL There needs no protestation, my 
 
 lord, 
 To her that cannot doubt. 
 
 Enter Wellborn, handsomely apparelled. 
 
 You are welcome, sir. 
 Now you look like yourself. 
 Well. And will continue 
 Such in my free acknowledgment, that I am 
 Your creature, madam, and will never hold 
 My life mine own, when you please to com- 
 mand it. 
 Lov. It is a thankfulness that well becomes 
 
 you ; 
 
 You could not make choice of a better shape 
 To dress your mind in. 
 
 L. All. For me, I am happy 
 That my endeavours prosper 'd. Saw you of 
 
 late 
 Sir Giles, your uncle ? 
 
 Well. I heard of him, madam, 
 By his minister, Marrall ; he's grown into 
 
 strange passions 
 About his daughter : this last night he look'd 
 
 for 
 
 Your lordship at his house, but missing you, 
 And she not yet appearing, his wise head 
 Is much perplex'd and troubled. 
 
 Lov. It may be, 
 Sweetheart, my project took. ' 
 L. All. I strongly hope. 
 
 Over. [within.] Ha ! find her, booby, 
 
 thou huge lump of nothing, 
 I'll bore thine eyes out else. 
 
 Well. May it please your lordship, 
 For some ends of mine own, but to with- 
 draw 
 
 A little out of sight, though not of hearing, 
 You may, perhaps, have sport. 
 Lov. You shall direct me. [Steps aside. 
 
 Enter Overreach, with distracted looks t 
 driving in Marrall before him, with a box- 
 Over. I shall sol fa you, rogue ! 
 Mar. Sir, for what cause 
 Do you use me thus ? 
 
 Over. Cause, slave ! why, I am angry, 
 And thou a subject only fit for beating, 
 And so to cool my choler. Look to the 
 
 writing ; 
 
 Let but the seal be broke upon the box, 
 That has slept in my cabinet these three 
 
 years, 
 I'll rack thy soul for't. 
 
 Mar. I may yet cry quittance, 
 Though now I suffer, and dare not resist. 
 
 [A*idt. 
 Over. Lady, by your leave, did you see 
 
 my daughter, lady ? 
 And the lord her husband ? are they in your 
 
 house ? 
 If they are, discover, that I may bid them 
 
 joy; 
 
 And, as an entrance to her place of honour, 
 See your ladyship on her left hand, and 
 
 make courtsies 
 When she nods on you ; which you must 
 
 receive 
 As a special favour. 
 
 L. All. When I know, sir Giles, 
 Her state requires such ceremony, I shall 
 
 pay it ; 
 
 But, in the meantime, as I am myself, 
 I give you to understand, I neither know 
 Nor care where her honour is. 
 
 Over. When you once see her 
 Supported, and led by the lord her husband, 
 You'll be taught better. Nephew. . 
 
 Well. Sir. 
 
 Over. No more ! 
 
 Well. 'Tis all I owe you. 
 
 Over. Have your redeem 'd rags 
 Made you thus insolent ? 
 
 Well. Insolent to you ! 
 Why, what are you, sir, unless in your years, 
 At the best, more than myself? 
 
 Over. His fortune swells him : 
 Tis rank, he's married. [Aside. 
 
 L. All. This is excellent! 
 
 K n 
 
A NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS. 
 
 rOi'cr. Sir, in calm language, though I 
 seldom use it, 
 I am familiar with the cause that makes you 
 Bear up thus bravely ; there's a certain buz 
 Of a stolen marriage, do you hear? of a 
 
 stolen marriage, 
 In which, 'tis said, there's somebody hath 
 
 been cozen 'd ; 
 I name no parties. 
 
 Well. Well, sir, and what follows? 
 Over. Marry, this ; since you are peremp- 
 tory. Remember, 
 Upon mere hope of your great match, I lent 
 
 you 
 
 A thousand pounds : put me in good se- 
 curity, 
 
 And suddenly, by mortgage or by statute, 
 Of some of your new possessions, or I'll 
 
 have you 
 Dragg'd in your lavender robes to the gaol : 
 
 you know me, 
 And 'therefore do not trifle. 
 
 Well. Can you be 
 
 So cruel to your nephew, now he's in 
 The way to rise ? was this the courtesy 
 You did me in gure love, and no ends else ? 
 Over. End me no ends ! engage the whole 
 
 estate, 
 And force your spouse to sign it, you shall 
 
 have 
 Three or four thousand more, to roar and 
 
 swagger, 
 And revel in bawdy taverns. 
 
 Well. And beg after ; 
 Mean you not so ? 
 
 Over. My thoughts are mine, and free. 
 Shall I have security ? 
 
 Well. No, indeed you shall not, 
 Nor bond, nor bill, nor bare acknowledg- 
 ment ; 
 Your great looks fright not me. 
 
 Over. But my deeds shall. 
 Outbraved ! [Both draw, 
 
 L. All. Help, murder ! murder ! 
 
 Enter Sen-ants. 
 
 Well. I^et him come on, 
 With all his wrongs and injuries about him, 
 Arm'd with his cut-throat practices to guard 
 
 him ; 
 The right that I bring with me will defend 
 
 me, 
 
 And punish his extortion. 
 Over. That I had thee 
 But single in the field ! 
 
 L. All. You may; but make not 
 ; My house your quarrelling scene. 
 
 Over. Were't in a church, 
 By heaven and hell, I'll do't. 
 
 Mar. Now put him to 
 The shewing of the deed. 
 
 [Aside to Wellborn. 
 Well. This rage is vain, sir ; 
 For fighting, fear not, you shall have your 
 
 hands full, 
 
 Upon the least incitement ; and whereas 
 You charge me with a debt of a thousand 
 
 pounds, 
 
 If there be law, (howe'er you have no con- 
 science,) 
 
 Either restore my land, or I'll recover 
 A debt, that's truly due to me from you, 
 In value ten times more than what you 
 
 challenge. 
 Over. I in thy debt ! O impudence ! did 
 
 I not purchase 
 
 The land left by thy father, that rich land, 
 That had continued in Wellborn's name 
 Twenty descents ; which, like a riotous fool, 
 Thou didst make sale of? Is not here, 
 
 inclosed, 
 
 The deed that does confirm it mine ? 
 Mar. Now, now ! 
 Well. I do acknowledge none ; I ne'er 
 
 pass'd over 
 
 Any such land : I grant, for a year or two 
 You had it in trust ; which if you do dis- 
 charge, 
 
 Surrendering the possession, you shall ease 
 Yourself and me of chargeable suits in law, 
 Which, if you prove not honest, as I doubt it, 
 Must of necessity follow. 
 
 L. All. In my judgment, 
 He does advise you well. 
 
 Over. Good ! good ! conspire 
 With your new husband, lady ; second him 
 In his 'dishonest practices ; but when 
 This manor is extended to my use, 
 You'll speak in an humbler key, and sue for 
 
 favour. 
 
 L. All. Never : do not hope it. 
 Well. Let despair first seize me. 
 Over. Yet, to shut up thy mouth, and 
 
 make thee give 
 
 Thyself the lie, the loud lie, I draw out 
 The precious evidence ; if thou canst for- 
 swear 
 Thy hand and seal, and make a forfeit of 
 
 \Opens the box, and displays the bond. 
 Thy ears to the pillory, see ! here's that will 
 
 make 
 
 My interest clear ha ! 
 L. All. A fair skin of parchment. 
 Well. Indented, I confess, and labels too ; 
 But neither wax nor words. How ! thun- 
 der struck ? 
 
 Not a syllable to insult with? My wise 
 uncle, 
 
A NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS. 
 
 419 
 
 Is this your precious evidence, this that 
 
 makes 
 Your interest clear ? 
 
 Over. I am o'erwhelmed with wonder ! 
 What prodigy is this ? what subtle devil 
 Hath razed out the inscription ? the wax 
 Turn'd into dust ! the rest of my deeds 
 
 whole, 
 
 As when they were deliver'd, and this only 
 Made nothing ! do you deal with witches, 
 
 rascal ? 
 
 i There is a statute for you, which will bring 
 Your neck in an hempen circle ; yes, there is ; 
 And now 'tis better thought for, cheater, 
 
 know 
 This juggling shall not save you. 
 
 Well. To save thee, 
 Would beggar the stock of mercy. 
 Over. Marrall ! 
 Mar. Sir. 
 Over. Though the witnesses are dead, 
 
 your testimony 
 Help with an oath or two : and for thy 
 
 master, 
 
 Thy liberal master, my good honest servant, 
 I know thou wilt swear anything, to dash 
 This cunning sleight : besides, I know thou 
 
 art 
 
 A public notary, and such stand in law 
 For a dozen witnesses : the deed being 
 
 drawn too 
 
 By thee, my careful Marrall, and deliver'd 
 When thou wert present, will make good 
 
 my title. 
 Wilt thou not swear this ? 
 
 \Aside to Marrall. 
 Mar. I ! no, I assure you : 
 I have a conscience not sear'd up like yours ; 
 I know no deeds. 
 
 Over. Wilt thou betray me ? 
 Mar. Keep him 
 
 From using of his hands, I'll use my tongue, 
 To his no little torment. 
 Over. Mine own varlet 
 Rebel against me ! 
 
 Mar. Yes, and uncase you too. 
 The ideot, the Patch, the slave, the booby, 
 I\\Q property jit only to be beaten 
 For your morning exercise, yowc football, or 
 The iinprofitablclump of flesh, your drudge ; 
 Can now anatomise you, and lay open 
 All your black plots, and level with the earth 
 Your hill of pride : and, with these gabions 
 
 guarded, 
 
 Unload my great artillery, and shake, 
 Nay pulverize, the walls' you think defend 
 
 you. 
 
 L. All. How he foams at the mouth with 
 rageJ 
 
 Well. To him again. 
 
 Over. O that I had thee in my gripe, I 
 
 would tear thee 
 Joint after joint ! 
 
 Mar. I know you are a tearer. 
 But I'll have first your fangs pared off, and 
 
 then 
 
 Come nearer to you ; when I have discover'd, 
 And made it good before the judge, what 
 
 ways, 
 And devilish practices, you used to cozen 
 
 with 
 
 An army of whole families, who yet alive, 
 And but enroll'd for soldiers, were able 
 To take in Dunkirk. 
 
 Well. All will come out 
 L. All. The better. 
 
 Over. But that I will live, rogue, to tor- 
 ture thee, 
 And make thee wish, and kneel in vain, to 
 
 die, 
 These swords, that keep thee from me, 
 
 should fix here, 
 Although they made my body but one \ 
 
 wound, 
 But I would reach thee. 
 
 Lov. Heaven's hand is in this ; 
 One bandog worry the other ! \_Aside. 
 
 Over. I play the fool, 
 And make my anger but ridiculous : 
 There will be a time and place, there will be, : 
 
 cowards, 
 When you shall feel what I dare do. 
 
 Well. I think so : 
 
 You dare do any ill, yet want true valour 
 To be honest, and repent. 
 
 Over. They are words I know not, 
 Nor e'er will learn. Patience, the beggar's 
 virtue, 
 
 Enter Greedy and Parson Willdo. 
 
 Shall find no harbour here : after these 
 
 storms 
 At length a calm appears. Welcome, most ; 
 
 welcome ! 
 There's comfort in thy looks ; is the deed 
 
 done? 
 Is my daughter married? say but so, my 
 
 chaplain, 
 And I am tame. 
 
 Willdo. Married ! yes, I assure you. 
 Over. Then vanish all sad thoughts ! 
 
 there's more gold for thee. 
 My doubts and fears are in the titles 
 
 drown'd 
 Of my honourable, my right honourable ! 
 
 daughter. 
 Greedy. Here will be feasting ! at least ' 
 
 for a month, 
 * E2 | 
 
420 
 
 A NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS. 
 
 I am provided : empty guts, croak no more, 
 You shall be stuffd like bagpipes, not with 
 
 wind, 
 But bearing dishes. 
 
 Over. Instantly be here ? 
 
 [ Whispering to Willdo. 
 To my wish ! to my wish ! Now you that 
 
 ** plot against me, 
 And hoped to trip my heels up, that con- 
 
 temn'd me, 
 Think on't and tremble : [Loud music.'] 
 
 they come ! I hear the music. 
 A lane there for my lord ! 
 Well. This sudden heat 
 May yet be cool'd, sir. 
 
 Over. Make way there for my lord ! 
 
 Enter Allworth and Margaret. 
 
 Marg. Sir, first your pardon, then your 
 
 blessing, with 
 Your full allowance of the choice I have 
 
 made. 
 
 As ever you could make use of your reason, 
 [Kneeling. 
 
 Grow not in passion ; since you may as well 
 Call back the day that's past, as untie the 
 
 knot 
 
 Which is too strongly fasten'd : not to dwell 
 Too long on words, this is my husband. 
 Over. How ! 
 All. So I assure you ; all the rights of 
 
 marriage, 
 With every circumstance, are past. Alas ! 
 
 sir, 
 
 Although I am no lord, but a lord's page, 
 Your daughter and my loved wife mourns 
 
 not for it ; 
 And, for right honourable son-in-law, you 
 
 may say, 
 Your dutiful daughter. 
 
 Over. Devil ! are they married ? 
 Willdo. Do a father's part, and say, 
 
 Heaven give them joy ! 
 Over. Confusion and ruin ! speak, and 
 
 speak quickly, 
 Or thou art dead. 
 
 Willdo. They are married. 
 Over. Thou hadst better 
 Have made a contract with the king of fiends, 
 Than these : my brain turns ! 
 
 Willdo. WTiy this rage to me? 
 Is not this your letter, sir, and these the 
 
 words ? 
 Marry her to this gentleman. 
 
 Over. It cannot 
 
 Nor will I e'er believe it, 'sdeath ! I will not ; 
 That I, that, in all passages I touch'd 
 At worldly profit, have not left a print 
 
 Where I have trod, for the most curious 
 
 search 
 To trace my footsteps, should be gull'd by ' 
 
 children, 
 Baffled and fool'd, and all my hopes and la- ! 
 
 bours 
 Defeated, and made void. 
 
 Well. As it appears, 
 You are so, my grave uncle. 
 
 Over. Village nurses 
 Revenge their wrongs with curses ; I'll not 
 
 waste 
 
 A syllable, but thus I take the life 
 Which, wretched, I gave to thee. 
 
 [Attempts to kill Margaret. 
 Lov. [coming fotwardJ] Hold, for your 
 
 own sake ! 
 Though charity to your daughter hath quite 
 
 left you, 
 Will you do an act, though in your hopes 
 
 lost here, 
 
 Can leave no hope for peace or rest hereafter? 
 Consider ; at the best you are but a man, 
 And cannot so create your aims, but that 
 They may be cross'd. 
 
 Over. Lord ! thus I spit at thee, 
 And at thy counsel ; and again desire thee, 
 And as thou art a soldier, if thy valour 
 Dares shew itself, where multitude and 
 
 example 
 Lead not the way, let's quit the house, and 
 
 change 
 
 Six words in private. 
 Lov. I am ready. 
 L. All. Stay, sir, 
 Contest with one distracted ! 
 
 Well. You'll grow like him, 
 Should you answer his vain challenge. 
 
 Over. Are you pale ? 
 
 Borrow his help, though Hercules call it odds, 
 I'll stand against both as I am, hemm'd in 
 
 thus. 
 
 Since, like a Libyan lion in the toil, 
 My fury cannot reach the coward hunters, 
 And only spends itself, I'll quit the place : 
 Alone I can do nothing ; but I have servants, 
 And friends to second me ; and if I make not 
 This house a heap of ashes, (by my wrongs, 
 What I have spoke I will make good !) or 
 
 leave 
 
 One throat uncut, if it be possible, 
 Hell, add to my afflictions ! [Exit. 
 
 Mar. Is't not brave sport ? 
 Greedy. Brave sport ! I am sure it has ta'en 
 
 away my stomach ; 
 I do not like the sauce. 
 
 All. Nay, weep not, dearest, 
 Though it express your pity ; what's decreed 
 Above, we cannot alter. 
 
A NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS. 
 
 421 
 
 L. All. His threats move me 
 No scruple, madam. 
 
 Mar. Was it not a rare trick, 
 An it please your worship, to make the deed 
 
 nothing? 
 
 I can do twenty neater, if you please 
 To purchase and grow rich ; for I will be 
 Such a solicitor and steward for you, 
 As never worshipful had. 
 
 Well. I do believe thee ; 
 But first discover the quaint means you used 
 To raze out the conveyance ? 
 
 Mar. They are mysteries 
 Not to be spoke in public : certain minerals 
 Incorporated in the ink and wax. 
 Besides, he gave me nothing, but still fed me 
 With hopes and blows ; and that was the in- 
 ducement 
 
 To this conundrum . If it please your worship 
 To call to memory, this mad beast once 
 
 caused me 
 
 To urge you, or to drown or hang yourself ; 
 I'll do the like to him, if you command me. 
 
 Well. You are a rascal ! he that dares be 
 
 false 
 
 To a master, though unjust, will ne'er be true 
 To any other. Look not for reward 
 Or favour from me ; I will shun thy sight 
 As I would do a basilisk's : thank my pity, 
 If thou keep thy ears ; howe'er, I will take 
 
 order 
 Your practice shall be silenced. 
 
 Greedy. I'll commit him, 
 If you will have me, sir. 
 
 Well. That were to little purpose ; 
 His conscience be his prison. Not a word, 
 But instantly be gone. 
 
 Ord. Take this kick with you. 
 
 Amb. And this. 
 
 Furn. If that I had my cleaver here, 
 I would divide your knave's head. 
 
 Mar. This is the haven 
 False servants still arrive at. . [Exit. 
 
 Re-e1iter Overreach. 
 
 L, All. Come again ! 
 I.ov. Fear not, I am your guard. 
 Well. His looks are ghastly. 
 Willdo. Some little time I have spent, 
 
 under your favours, 
 In physical studies, and if my judgment err 
 
 not, 
 
 He's mad beyond recovery : but observe him, 
 And look to yourselves. 
 
 Over. Why, is not the whole world 
 Included in myself? to what use then 
 Are friends and servants ? Say there were a 
 squadron 
 
 Of pikes, lined through with shot, when I am 
 
 mounted 
 Upon my injuries, shall I fear to charge 
 
 them? 
 
 No: I'll through the battalia, and that 
 routed, 
 
 [Flourishing his sword sheathed. 
 I'll fall to execution. Ha ! I am feeble : 
 Some undone widow sits upon mine arm, 
 And takes away the use oft ; and my sword, 
 Glued to my scabbard, with wrong'd or- 
 phans' tears, 
 Will not be drawn. Ha ! what are these ? 
 
 sure, hangmen, 
 That come to bind my hands, and then to 
 
 drag me 
 Before the judgment-seat : now they are new 
 
 shapes, 
 
 And do appear like Furies, with steel whips 
 To scourge my ulcerous soul. Shall I then 
 
 fall 
 
 Ingloriously, and yield ? no ; spite of Fate, 
 I will be forced to hell like to myself. 
 Though you were legions of accursed 
 
 spirits, 
 Thus would I fly among you. 
 
 [Rushes forward, and flings himself 
 
 on the ground. 
 Well. There's no help ; 
 Disarm him first, then bind him. 
 
 Greedy. Take a mittimus, * 
 And carry him to Bedlam. 
 Lov. How he foams ! " 
 Well. And bites the earth ! 
 Willdo. Carry him to some dark room, 
 There try what art can do for his recovery. 
 Marg. O my dear father ! 
 
 {They force Overreach off. 
 All. You must be patient, mistress. 
 Lov. Here is a precedent to teach wicked 
 
 men, 
 That when they leave religion, and turn 
 
 atheists, 
 Their own abilities leave them. Pray you take 
 
 comfort, 
 
 I will endeavo-ur you shall be his guardians 
 In his distractions : and for your land, master 
 
 Wellborn, 
 
 Be it good or ill iri law, I'll be an umpire 
 Between you, and this, the undoubted heir 
 Of sir Giles Overreach : for me, here's the 
 
 anchor 
 That I must fix on. 
 
 All. What you shall determine, 
 My lord, I will allow of. 
 
 'Well. 'Tis the language 
 That I speak too ; but there is something 
 
 else 
 Beside the repossession of my land, 
 
422 
 
 A NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS. 
 
 And payment of my debts, that I must 
 
 practise. 
 
 I had a reputation, but 'twas lost 
 In my loose course ; and until I redeem it 
 Some noble way, I am but half made up. 
 It is a time of action ; if your lordship 
 Will please to confer a company upon me, 
 In your command, I doubt not, in my ser- 
 vice 
 To my king and country, but I shall do 
 
 something 
 That may make me right again. 
 
 Lov. Your suit is granted, 
 And you loved for the motion. 
 
 Well, [coming forward.] Nothing wants 
 
 then 
 
 But your allowance and in that 02ir all 
 Is comprehended ; it being known, nor we, 
 Nor he that wrote the comedy, can be free, 
 Without yoiir manumission ; which if you 
 Grant willingly, as a fair favour due 
 To the poet's, and our labours, (as you 
 
 may,} 
 
 For we despair not, gentlemen, of the play: 
 \Ve jointly shall profess your grace hath 
 
 might 
 
 To teach us action, and him how to write. 
 ("Exeunt. 
 
The City Madam. 
 
 DRAMATIS PERSONS. 
 
 ! Lord Lacy. 
 
 ' .Sz>John Frugal, a merchant. 
 
 \ Sir Maurice Lacy, son to lord Lacy. 
 
 Mr. Plenty, a country gentleman. 
 
 Luke Frugal, brother to sir John. 
 
 Tradewell 
 
 Goldwire junior, \ their sons, apprentices 
 
 Tradewell junior, J to sir John Frugal. 
 
 Stargaze, an astrologer. 
 
 Hoyst, a decayed gentleman. 
 
 decayed merchants. 
 Holdfast,* steward to sir John Frugal. 
 
 SCENE, London. 
 
 Ding'em, a pimp. 
 
 Gettali, a box-keeper. 
 
 Page, Sheriff, Marshal, Serjeants. 
 
 Lady Frugal. 
 
 }*r *"*** 
 
 Milliscent, her woman. 
 Shave'em, a courtezan. 
 Secret, a bawd. 
 
 Orpheus, Charon, Cerberus, Chorus* 
 Musicians, Porters, Servants. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 SCENE I. A Room in Sir John Frugal's 
 
 House. 
 Enter Goldwire junior and Tradewell 
 
 junior. 
 
 Gold. The ship is safe in the Pool then ? 
 Trade. And makes good 
 I In her rich fraught, the name she bears, 
 
 The Speedwell : 
 I My master will find it ; for, on my certain 
 
 knowledge, 
 
 I For every hundred that he ventured in her, 
 She hath return'd him five. 
 
 Gold. And it comes timely ; 
 For, besides a payment on the nail for a 
 
 manor 
 Late purchased by my master, his young 
 
 daughters 
 i Are ripe for marriage. 
 
 Trade. Who ? Nan and Mall ? 
 
 Gold. Mistress Anne and Mary, and with 
 
 some addition, 
 
 Or 'tis more punishable in our house 
 Than scandalum magnatum. 
 
 Trade. 'Tis great pity 
 Such agentleman as my master (for that title 
 His being a citizen cannot take from him) 
 Hath no male heir to inherit his estate, 
 And keep his name alive. 
 Gold. The want of one, 
 Swells my young mistresses, and their 
 madam-mother, 
 
 With hopes above their birth, and scale 
 
 their dreams are 
 Of being made countesses; and. they take 
 
 state, 
 As they were such already. When you 
 
 went 
 To the Indies, there was some shape and 
 
 proportion 
 Of a merchant's house in our family; but 
 
 since 
 
 My master, to gain precedency for my mis- 
 tress, 
 Above some elder merchants' wives, was 
 
 knighted, 
 
 'Tis grown a little court in bravery, 
 Variety of fashions, and those rich ones : 
 There are few great ladies going to a mask 
 That do outshine ours in their every-day 
 
 habits. 
 Trade. 'Tis strange, my master, in his 
 
 wisdom, can 
 Give the reins to sucja exorbitance. 
 
 Gold. He must, 
 
 Or there's no peace nor rest for him at home : 
 I grant his state will bear it ; yet he's cen- 
 sured 
 
 For his indulgence, and, for sir John Frugal, 
 By some styled sir John Prodigal. 
 
 Trade. Is his brother, 
 Master Luke Frugal, living? 
 
 Gold. Yes ; the more 
 His misery, poor man ! 
 
 Trade. Still in the counter? 
 
424 
 
 THE CITY MADAM. 
 
 Gold. In a worse place. He was redeem'd 
 from the hole, 
 
 To live, in our house, in hell ; since, his base 
 usage 
 
 Consider'd, 'tis no better. My proud lady 
 
 Admits him to her table ; marry, ever 
 
 Beneath the salt, and there he sits the sub- 
 ject 
 
 Of her contempt and scorn ; and dinner 
 ended, 
 
 His courteous nieces find employment for him 
 
 Fitting an under-prentice, or a footman, 
 
 And not an uncle. 
 
 Trade. I wonder, being a scholar 
 
 Well read, and travell'd, the world yielding 
 means 
 
 For men of such desert, he should endure it. 
 Gold. He does, with a strange patience ; 
 and to us, 
 
 The servants, so familiar, nay humble ! 
 
 Enter Stargaze, Lady Frugal, Anne, Mary, 
 and Milliscent, in several affected postures, 
 with looking-glasses at their girdles. 
 
 I'll tell you but I am cut off. Look these 
 Like a citizen's wife and daughters ? 
 
 Trade. In their habits 
 They appear other things : but what are the 
 
 motives 
 
 Of this strange preparation ? 
 Gold. The young wagtails 
 Expect their suitors : the first, the son and 
 
 heir 
 Of the lord Lacy, who needs my master's 
 
 money, 
 As his daughter does his honour ; the second, 
 
 Mr. Plenty, 
 
 A rough-hewn gentleman, and newly come 
 To a great estate ; and so all aids of art 
 In them's excusable. 
 
 L. Frug. You have done your parts here : 
 To your study ; and be curious in the search 
 Of the nativities. [Exit Stargaze. 
 
 Trade. Methinks the mother, 
 As if she could renew her youth, in care, 
 Nay curiosity, to appear lovely, 
 Comes not behind her daughters. 
 
 Gold. Keeps the first place ; 
 And though the church-book speak her fifty, 
 
 they 
 That say she can write thirty, more offend 
 
 her, 
 
 Than if they tax'd her honesty : t'other day, 
 A tenant of hers, instructed in her humour, 
 But one she never saw, being brought before 
 
 her, 
 For saying only, Good youn^ mistress, help 
 
 To the speech of your lady-mother, so far 
 
 pleased her, 
 That he got his lease renew'd for't. 
 
 Trade. How she bristles ! 
 Prithee, observe her. 
 
 Mill. As I hope to see 
 A country knight's son and heir walk bare 
 
 before you 
 When you are a countess, as you may be 
 
 one 
 When my master dies, or leaves trading ; 
 
 and I, continuing 
 
 Your principal woman, take the upper hand 
 Of a squire's wife, though a justice, as I 
 
 must 
 By the place you give me ; you look now as 
 
 young 
 As when you were married. 
 
 L. Frug. I think I bear my years well. 
 Mill. Why should you talk of years? 
 
 Time hath not plough'd 
 One furrow in your face ; and were you not 
 
 known 
 The mother of my young ladies, you might 
 
 pass 
 For a virgin of fifteen. 
 
 Trade. Here's no gross flattery ! 
 Will she swallow this ? 
 
 Gold. You see she does, and glibly. 
 Mill. You never can be old ; wear but a 
 
 mask 
 Forty years hence, and you will still seem 
 
 young 
 In your other parts. What a waist is here ! 
 
 O Venus ! 
 That I had been born a king ! and here a 
 
 hand 
 To be kiss'd ever ; pardon my boldness, 
 
 madam. 
 
 Then, for a leg and foot, you will be courted 
 When a great grandmother. 
 
 L. Frug. These, indeed, wench, are not 
 So subject to decayings as the face ; 
 Their comeliness lasts longer. 
 
 Mill. Ever, ever ! 
 Such a rare featured and proportion'd 
 
 madam, 
 
 London could never boast of. 
 L. Frug. Where are my shoes? 
 Mill. Those that your ladyship gave order, 
 
 should 
 
 Be made of the Spanish perfum'd skins ? 
 L. Frug. The same. 
 Mill. I sent the prison-bird this morning 
 
 for them ; 
 But he neglects his duty. 
 
 Anne. He is grown 
 Exceeding careless. 
 
 Man 1 . And begins to murmur 
 
THE CITY MADAM. 
 
 425 
 
 At our commands, and sometimes grumbles 
 
 to us, 
 He is, forsooth, our uncle ! 
 
 L. Frug. He is your slave, 
 And as such use him. 
 
 Anne. Willingly ; but he's grown 
 Rebellious, madam. 
 
 Gold. Nay, like hen, like chicken. 
 
 /. Frug. I'll humble him. 
 
 Enter Luke, with shoes, garters, fans, and 
 roses. 
 
 Gold. Here he comes, sweating all over : 
 He shews like a walking frippery. 
 
 L. Frug. Very good, sir : 
 Were you drunk last night, that you could 
 
 rise no sooner, 
 With humble diligence, to do what my 
 
 daughters 
 
 And woman did command you ? 
 Luke. Drunk, an't please you ! 
 L. Frug. Drunk, I said, sirrah ! dar'st 
 
 thou, in a look, 
 Repine or grumble ? Thou unthankful 
 
 wretch, 
 
 Did our charity redeem thee out of prison, 
 (Thy patrimony spent,) ragged and lousy, 
 When the sheriff s basket, and his broken 
 
 meat, 
 
 Were your festival-exceedings ! and is this 
 So soon forgotten ? 
 
 Luke. I confess I am 
 Your creature, madam. 
 
 L. Frug. And good reason why 
 You should continue so. 
 
 Anne. Who did new clothe you? 
 Marg. Admitted you to the dining-room ? 
 Mill. Allow 'd you 
 A fresh bed in the garret ? 
 
 L. Frug. Or from whom 
 Received you spending money? 
 
 Liike. I owe all this 
 To your goodness, madam ; for it you have 
 
 my prayers, 
 
 The beggar's satisfaction : all my studies 
 (Forgetting what I was, but with all duty 
 Remembering what I am) are how to please 
 
 you. 
 
 And if in my long stay I have offended, 
 I ask your pardon ; though you may con- 
 sider, 
 Being forced to fetch these from the Old 
 
 Exchange, 
 These from the Tower, and these from 
 
 Westminster, 
 I could not come much sooner. 
 
 Gold. Here was a walk 
 To breathe a footman ! 
 Anne. Tis a curious fan. 
 
 Mary. These roses will shew rare : would 
 
 'twere in fashion 
 That the garters might be seen too ! 
 
 Mill. Many ladies 
 That know they have good legs, wish the 
 
 same with you ; 
 Men that way have the advantage. 
 
 Luke. I was with 
 
 The lady, and delivered her the satin 
 For her gown, and velvet for her petti- 
 coat ; 
 This night she vows she'll pay you. 
 
 [Aside to Goldwire. 
 Gold. How I am bound 
 To your favour, master Luke ! 
 
 Mill. As I live, you will 
 Perfume all rooms you walk in. 
 
 L. Frug. Get your fur, 
 You shall pull them on within. [2?.rzV Luke. 
 
 Gold. That servile office 
 Her pride imposes on him. 
 Sir John. \within.~\ Goldwire ! Trade- 
 well ! 
 
 Trade. My master calls. We come, sir. 
 [Exeunt Goldwire and Tradewell. 
 
 Enter Holdfast, and Porters -with 
 baskets, &c. 
 
 L. Frug. What have you brought there ? 
 Hold. The cream o' the market ; 
 Provision enough to serve a garrison. 
 I weep to think on't : when my master got 
 His wealth, his family fed on roots and 
 livers, 
 
 And necks of beef on Sundays. 
 
 But now I fear it will be spent in poultry ; 
 Butcher's-meat will not go down. 
 
 L. Frttg. Why, you rascal, is it 
 At your expense? what cooks have you pro- 
 vided? 
 Hold. The best of the city : they've 
 
 wrought at my lord mayor's. 
 Anne. Fie on them ! they smell of Fleet- 
 lane, and Pie-corner. 
 Mary. And think the happiness of man's 
 
 life consists 
 In a mighty shoulder of mutton. 
 
 L. Frug. I'll have none 
 Shall touch what I shall eat, you grumbling 
 
 cur, 
 But Frenchmen and Italians ; they wear 
 
 satin, 
 
 And dish no meat but in silver. 
 Hold. You may want, though, 
 A dish or two when the service ends. 
 
 L. Frug. Leave prating ; 
 I'll have my will : do you as I command you. 
 
 [Exatnf. 
 
THE CITY MADAM. 
 
 SCENE II. The Street before Frugal's 
 House. 
 
 Enter Sir Maurice Lacy and Page. 
 
 Sir Maur. You were with Plenty ? 
 Page. Yes, sir. 
 
 Sir Maur. And what answer 
 Return'd the clown ? 
 
 Page. Clown, sir ! he is transform'd, 
 And grown a gallant of the last edition ; 
 More rich than gaudy in his habit ; yet 
 The freedom and the bluntness of his 
 
 language 
 
 Continues with him. When I told him that 
 You gave him caution, as he loved the peace 
 And safety of his life, he should forbear 
 To pass the merchant's threshold, until you, 
 Of his two daughters, had made choice of 
 
 her 
 
 Whom you design'd to honour as your wife, 
 He smiled in scorn. 
 Sir Maur. In scorn ! 
 Page. His words confirm 'd it ; 
 They were few, but to this purpose : Tell 
 
 your master, 
 Though his lordship in reversion -were now 
 
 his, 
 
 It cannot awe me. I was lorn a freeman, 
 And will not yield, in the way of affection, 
 Precedence to him : I will visit them, 
 Though he sate porter to de?iy me entrance : 
 When I meet him next, I'll say more to his 
 
 face. 
 
 Deliver thou this : then gave me a piece, 
 To help my memory, and so we parted. 
 Sir Maur. Where got he this spirit ? 
 Page. At the academy of valour, 
 Newly erected for the institution 
 Of elder brothers ; where they are taught 
 
 the ways, 
 
 Though they refuse to seal for a duellist, 
 How to decline a challenge. He himself 
 Can best resolve you. 
 
 Enter Plenty and three Servants, 
 
 Sir Maur. You, sir ! 
 Plenty. What with me, sir? 
 
 How big you look ! I will not loose a hat 
 
 To a hair's breadth : move your beaver, I'll 
 move mine ; 
 
 Or if you desire to prove your sword, mine 
 hangs 
 
 As near my right hand, and will as soon out; 
 though I keep not 
 
 A fencer to breathe me. Walk into Moor- 
 fields 
 
 I dare look on your Toledo. Do not shew 
 
 A foolish valour in the streets, to make 
 
 Work for shopkeepers and their clubs, 'tis 
 
 scurvy, 
 And the women will laugh at us. 
 
 Sir Maur. You presume 
 On the protection of your hinds. 
 
 Plenty. I scorn it : 
 Though I keep men, I fight not with their 
 
 fingers, 
 
 Nor make it my religion to follow 
 The gallant's fashion, to have my family 
 Consisting in a footman and a page, 
 And those two sometimes hungry. I can 
 
 feed these, 
 And clothe them too, my gay sir. 
 
 Sir Maur. What a fine man 
 Hath your tailor made you ! 
 
 Plenty. 'Tis quite contrary, 
 I have made my tailor, for my clothes are. 
 
 paid for 
 
 As soon as put on ; a sin your man of title 
 Is seldom guilty of ; but Heaven forgive it I 
 I have other faults, too, very incident 
 To a plain gentleman : I eat my venison 
 With my neighbours in the country, and 
 
 present not 
 My pheasants, partridges, and growse to 
 
 the usurer ; 
 
 Nor ever yet paid brokage to his scrivener. 
 I flatter not my mercer's wife, nor feast her 
 With the first cherries, cr peascods, to pre- 
 pare me 
 Credit with her husband, when I come to 
 
 London. 
 The wool of my sheep, or a score or two of 
 
 fat oxen 
 
 InSmithfield, give me money for myexpenses. 
 I can make my wife a jointure of such lands 
 
 too 
 
 As are not encumber 'd ; no annuity 
 Or statute lying on them. This I can do, 
 An it please your future honour, and why, 
 
 therefore, 
 
 You should forbid my being suitor with you, 
 My dullness apprehends not. 
 Page. This is bitter. [Aside. 
 
 Sir Maur. I have heard you, sir, and in 
 
 my patience shewn 
 
 Too much of the stoic. But to parley further, 
 Or answer your gross jeers, would write me 
 
 coward. 
 This only, thy great-grandfather was a 
 
 butcher, 
 
 And his son a grazier ; thy sire, constable 
 Of the hundred, and thou the first of your 
 
 dunghill 
 Created gentleman. Now you may come 
 
 on, sir, 
 You and your thrashers. 
 
 Plenty'. Stir not, on your lives. 
 
THE CITY MADAM. 
 
 This for the grazier, this for the butcher. 
 
 [They fig/it. 
 Sir Maur. So, sir ! 
 Page. I'll not stand idle; draw! \to the 
 
 Servants.] my little rapier, 
 Against your bumb blades ! I'll one by one 
 
 dispatch you, 
 
 Then house this instrument of death and 
 horror. 
 
 Enter Sir John Frugal, Luke, Goldwire 
 junior, and Tradewelly#7z/0r. 
 
 Sir John. Beat down their weapons. My 
 
 gate ruffian's hall ! 
 What insolence is this ? 
 
 Luke. Noble sir Maurice, 
 Worshipful master Plenty 
 
 Sir John. I blush for you. 
 Men of your quality expose your fame 
 To every vulgar censure ! this at midnight, 
 After a drunken supper in a tavern, 
 (No civil man abroad to censure it,) 
 Had shewn poor in you ; but in the day, and 
 
 view 
 Of all that pass by, monstrous ! 
 
 Plenty. Very well, sir ; 
 You look'd for this defence. 
 
 Sir Maur. Tis thy protection ; 
 But it will deceive thee. 
 
 Sir John. Hold, if you proceed thus, 
 I must make use of the next justice's power, 
 And leave persuasion ; and in plain terms 
 tell you, 
 
 Enter Lady Frugal, Anne, Mary, and 
 Milliscent. 
 
 Neither your birth, sir Maurice, nor your 
 
 wealth, 
 Shall privilege this riot. See whom you have 
 
 drawn 
 
 To be spectators of it ! can you imagine 
 It can stand with the credit of my daughters, 
 To be the argument of your swords ? i'the 
 
 street too ? 
 
 Nay, ere you do salute, or I give way 
 To any private conference, shake hands 
 In sign of peace : he that draws back, parts 
 
 with 
 My good opinion. [They shake hands. ~\ 
 
 This is as it should be. 
 Make your approaches, and if their affection 
 Can sympathise with yours, they shall not 
 
 come, 
 
 On my credit, beggars to you. I will hear 
 What you reply within. 
 
 Sir Maur. May I have the honour 
 To support you, lady ? [ To Anne. 
 
 Plenty. I know not what's supporting, 
 
 But by this fair hand, glove and all, I love 
 
 you. [ To Mary. 
 
 [Exeunt all but Luke. 
 
 Enter Hoyst, Penury, and Fortune. 
 
 Lttke. You are come with all advantage. 
 
 I will help you 
 To the speech of my brother. 
 
 For. Have you moved him for us ? 
 Luke. With the best of my endeavours* 
 
 and I hope 
 You'll find him tractable. 
 
 Pen. Heaven grant he prove so ! 
 Hoyst. Howe'er, I'll speak my mind. 
 
 Enter Lord Lacy. 
 
 Luke. Do so, master Hoyst. 
 Go in : I'll pay my duty to this lord, 
 And then I am wholly yours. 
 
 \Excunt Hoyst, Penury, and Fortune. 
 
 Heaven bless your honour ! 
 
 L. Lacy. Your hand, master Luke : the 
 
 world's much changed with you 
 Within these few months ; then you were 
 
 the gallant : 
 No meeting at the horse-race, cocking, 
 
 hunting, 
 
 Shooting, or bowling, at which master Luke 
 Was not a principal gamester, and com- 
 panion 
 For the nobility. 
 
 Luke. I have paid dear 
 For those follies, my good lord ; and 'tis but 
 
 justice 
 That such as soar above their pitch, and ! 
 
 will not 
 
 Be warn'd by my example, should, like me,. 
 Share in the miseries that wait upon it. 
 Your honour, in your charity, may do well 
 Not to upbraid me with those weaknesses, 
 Too late repented. 
 
 L. Lacy. I nor do, nor will ; 
 And you shall find I'll lend a helping hand 
 To raise your fortunes : how deals your 
 
 brother with you ? 
 Luke. Beyond my merit, I thank his 
 
 goodness for't. 
 
 I am a free man, all my debts discharged ; 
 Nor does one creditor, undone by me, 
 Curse my loose riots. I have meat and 
 
 clothes, 
 Time to ask heaven remission for what's 
 
 past ; 
 
 Cares of the world by me are laid aside, 
 My present poverty's a blessing to me ; 
 And though I have been long, I dare not say 
 I ever lived till now. 
 
 L. Lacy. You bear it well ; 
 Yet as vou wish I should receive for truth 
 
4 28 
 
 THE CITY MADAM. 
 
 \ What you deliver, with that truth acquaint 
 j me 
 With your brother's inclination. I have 
 
 heard, 
 | In the acquisition of his wealth, he weighs 
 
 not 
 Whose ruins he. builds upon. 
 
 Luke. In that, report 
 Wrongs him, my lord. He is a citizen, 
 And would increase his heap, and will notlose 
 What the law gives him : such as are worldly 
 
 wise 
 Pursue that track, or they will ne'er wear 
 
 scarlet. 
 
 But if your honour please to know his temper, 
 "You are come opportunely. I can bring you 
 Where you, unseen, shall see and hear his 
 
 carriage 
 Towards some poor men, whose making, or 
 
 undoing, 
 Depends upon his pleasure. 
 
 L. Lacy. To my wish : 
 I know no object that could more content me. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE III. A Counting-room in Frugal's 
 House. 
 
 Enter Sir John Frugal, Hoyst, Fortune, 
 Penury, and Gold wire jun ior. 
 
 Sir John. What would you have me do? 
 
 reach me a chair. 
 
 When I lent my monies I appear 'dan angel; 
 
 But now I would call in mine own, a devil. 
 
 Hoyst. Were you the devil's dam, you 
 
 must stay till I have it, 
 For as I am a gentleman 
 
 Re-enter Luke, behind, with Lord Lacy, 
 whom he places near the door. 
 
 Luke. There you may hear all. 
 
 Hoyst. I pawn'd you my land for the tenth 
 
 part of the value : 
 
 Now, 'cause I am a gamester, and keep or- 
 dinaries, 
 
 And a livery punk or so, and trade not with 
 The money-mongers' wives, not one will be 
 
 bound for me : 
 'Tis a hard case ; you must give me longer 
 
 day, 
 Or I shall grow very angry. 
 
 Sir John. Fret, and spare not. 
 1 know no obligation lies upon me 
 With my honey to feed drones. But to the 
 
 purpose, 
 How much owes Penury? 
 
 Gold. Two hundred pounds : 
 His bond three times since forfeited. 
 Sir Jo/in. Is it sued ? 
 
 Gold. Yes, sir, and execution out against 
 
 him. 
 
 Sir John. For body and goods ? 
 Gold. For both, sir. 
 Sir John. See it served. 
 Pen. I am undone ; my wife and family 
 Must starve for want of bread. 
 
 Sir John. More infidel thou, 
 In not providing better to support them. 
 What's Fortune's debt ? 
 Gold. A thousand, sir. 
 Sir John. An estate 
 For a good man ! You were the glorious 
 
 trader, 
 
 Embraced all bargains ; the main venturer 
 In every ship that launch'd forth ; kept your 
 
 wife 
 
 As a lady ; she had her caroch, her choice 
 Of summer houses, built with other men's 
 
 monies 
 
 Ta'en up at interest, the certain road 
 To Ludgate in a citizen. Pray you acquaint 
 
 me, 
 How were my thousand pounds employ'd ? 
 
 For. Insult not 
 
 On my calamity ; though, being a debtor, 
 And a slave to him that lends, I must endure 
 
 it. 
 
 Yet hear me speak thus much in my defence ; 
 Losses at sea, and those, sir, great and 
 
 many, 
 
 By storms and tempests, not domestical riots 
 In soothing my wife's humour, or mine own, 
 Have brought me to this low ebb. 
 
 Sir John. Suppose this true, 
 What is't to me ? I must and will have my 
 
 money, 
 Or I'll protest you first, and, that done, 
 
 have 
 The statute made for bankrupts served upon 
 
 you. 
 For. 'Tis in your po*ver, but not in mine 
 
 to shun it. 
 Luke [comes forward^ Not as a brother, 
 
 sir, but with such duty, 
 As I should use unto my father, since 
 Your charity is my parent, give me leave 
 To speak my thoughts. 
 
 Sir John. What would you say? 
 Luke. No word, sir, 
 
 I hope, shall give offence ; nor let it relish 
 Of flattery, though I proclaim aloud, 
 I glory in the bravery of your mind, 
 To which your wealth's a servant. Not that 
 
 riches 
 Is, or should be, contemn 1 d, it being a 
 
 blessing 
 
 Derived from heaven, and by your industry 
 Pull'd down upon you ; but in this, dear sir, 
 
THE CITY MADAM. 
 
 429 
 
 You have many equals : such a man's pos- 
 sessions 
 
 j Extend as far as yours ; a second hath 
 j His bags as full ; a third in credit flies 
 1 As high in the popular voice : but the dis- 
 tinction 
 
 And noble difference by which you are 
 : Divided from them, is, that you are styled, 
 Gentle in your abundance, good in plenty ; 
 And that you feel compassion in your bowels 
 Of others' miseries, (I have found it, sir, 
 Heaven keep me thankful for't !) while they 
 
 are curs'd 
 As rigid and inexorable. 
 
 Sir John. I delight not 
 To hear this spoke to my face. 
 
 Luke. That shall not grieve you. 
 i Your affability, and mildness, clothed 
 In the garments of your [thankful] debtors' 
 
 breath, 
 
 Shall everywhere, though you strive to con- 
 ceal it, 
 
 Be seen and wonder 'd at, and in the act 
 With a prodigal hand rewarded. Whereas, 
 
 such 
 
 As are born only for themselves, and live so, 
 Though prosperous in worldly understand- 
 ings, 
 
 Are 'but like beasts of rapine, that, by odds 
 Of strength, usurp, and tyrannize o'er others 
 I Brought under their subjection. 
 
 L. Lacy. A rare fellow ! 
 I am strangely taken with him. 
 
 Luke. Can you think, sir, 
 In your unquestion'd wisdom, I beseech you, 
 The goods of this poor man sold at an out- 
 cry, 
 I His wife turn'd out of doors, his children 
 
 forced 
 
 To beg their bread; this gentleman's estate, 
 By wrong extorted, can advantage you? 
 Hoyst. If it thrive with him, hang me, as 
 
 it w-p damn him, 
 If he be not converted. 
 
 Luke. You are too violent. 
 
 Or that the ruin of this once brave merchant, 
 For such he was esteem 'd, though now 
 
 decay'd, 
 
 Will raise your reputation with good men ? 
 B,ut you may urge, (pray you pardon me, 
 
 my zeal 
 
 Makes me thus bold and vehement,) in this 
 You satisfy your anger, and revenge 
 For being defeated. Suppose this, it will 
 
 not 
 
 Repair your loss, and there was never yet 
 But shame and scandal in a victory, 
 When the rebels unto reason, passions, 
 fought it. 
 
 Then for revenge, by great souls it was ever 
 Contemn' d, though offered ; entertain'd by 
 
 none 
 But cowards, base and abject spirits, 
 
 strangers 
 
 To moral honesty, and never yet 
 Acquainted with religion. 
 
 L. Lacy. Our divines 
 Cannot speak more effectually. 
 
 Sir John. Shall I be 
 Talk'd out of my money ? 
 
 Luke. No, sir, but entreated 
 To do yourself a benefit, and preserve 
 What you possess entire. 
 
 Sir John. How, my good brother? 
 Luke. By making these your beadsmen. 
 
 When they eat, 
 Their thanks, next heaven, will be paid to< 
 
 your mercy ; 
 When your ships are at sea, their prayers 
 
 will swell 
 The sails with prosperous winds, and guard. 
 
 them from 
 
 Tempests, and pirates ; keep your ware- 
 houses 
 
 From fire, or quench them with their tears. 
 Sir John. No more. 
 Luke. Write you a good man in the 
 
 people's hearts, 
 Follow you everywhere. 
 
 Sir John. If this could be 
 
 L^lke. It must, or our devotions are but 
 
 words. 
 
 I see a gentle promise in your eye, 
 Make it a blessed act, and poor me rich, 
 In being the instrument. 
 
 Sir John. You shall prevail ; 
 Give them longer day : but, do you hear, no 
 
 talk oft. 
 
 Should this arrive at twelve on the Ex- 
 change, 
 
 I shall be laugh' d at for my foolish pity, 
 Which money-men hate deadly. Take your 
 
 own time, 
 But see you break not. Carry them to the 
 
 cellar ; 
 
 Drink a health, and thank your orator. 
 Pen. On our knees, sir. 
 For. Honest master Luke ! 
 Hoyst. I bless the counter, where 
 You learn'd this rhetoric. 
 Luke. No more of that, friends. 
 
 [Exeunt Luke, Hoyst, Fortune, and 
 Penury. Lord Lacy comes forward. 
 Sir John. My honourable lord. 
 L. Lacy. I have seen and heard all. 
 Excuse my manners, and wish heartily 
 You were all of a piece. Your charity to your 
 debtors, 
 
430 
 
 THE CITY MADAM. 
 
 I do commend ; but where you should express 
 Your piety to the height, I must boldly tell 
 
 you, 
 You shew yourself an atheist. 
 
 Sir John. Make me know 
 My error, and for what I am thus censured, 
 And I will purge myself, or else confess 
 A guilty cause. 
 
 L. Lacy. It is your harsh demeanour 
 To your poor brother. 
 
 Sir John. Is that all? 
 
 L. Lacy. 'Tis more 
 
 Than can admit defence. You keep him as 
 A parasite to your table, subject to 
 The scorn of your proud wife ; an underling 
 To his own nieces : and can I with mine 
 
 honour 
 
 Mix my blood with his, that is not sensible 
 Of his brother's miseries? 
 
 Sir John. Pray you, take me with you ; 
 And let me yield my reasons why I am 
 Xo opener-handed to him. I was born 
 His elder brother, yet my father's fondness 
 To him, the younger, robb'd me of my birth- 
 
 . right : 
 
 He had a fair estate, which his loose riots 
 Soon brought to nothing ; wants grew heavy 
 
 on him, 
 
 And when laid up for debt, of all forsaken, 
 And in his own hopes lost, I did redeem him. 
 
 L. Lacy. You could not do less. 
 
 Sir John. Was I bound to it, my lord ? 
 What I possess I may, with justice, call 
 The harvest of my industry. Would you 
 
 have me, 
 
 Neglecting mine own family, to give up 
 My estate to his disposure?' 
 
 L. Lacy. I would have you, 
 \Vhat's pass'd forgot, to use him as a brother ; 
 A brother of fair parts, of a clear soul, 
 Religious, good, and honest. 
 
 Sir John. Outward gloss 
 Often deceives, may it not prove so in him ! 
 And yet my lon acquaintance with his 
 
 nature 
 Renders me doubtful ; but that shall not 
 
 make 
 
 A breach between us : let us in to dinner, 
 And what trust, or employment you think fit, 
 Shall be conferr'd upon him : if he prove 
 True gold in the touch, I'll be no mourner 
 for it. 
 
 L. Lacy. If counterfeit, I'll never trust my 
 judgment. \Excunt. 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 SCENE I. A Room in Sir John Frugal's 
 House. 
 
 Enter Luke, Holdfast, Gpld\vire junior, and 
 Trade well jun ior. 
 
 Hold. The like was never seen. 
 Luke. Why in this rage, man ? 
 Hold. Men may talk of country-christ- 
 
 masses, and court-gluttony, 
 Their thirty-pound butter 'd eggs, their pies 
 
 of carps' tongues, 
 Their pheasants drench'd with ambergris, 
 
 the carcases 
 
 Of three fat wethers bruised for gravy, to 
 Make sauce for a single peacock ; yet their 
 
 feasts 
 Were fasts, compared with" the city's. 
 
 Trade. What dear dainty 
 Was it, thou murmur'st at ? 
 
 Hold. Did you not observe it ? 
 There were three sucking pigs serv'd up in 
 
 a dish, 
 
 Ta'en from the sow as soon as farrowed, 
 A fortnight fed with dates, and muskadine, 
 That stood my master in twenty marks apiece, 
 Besides the puddings in their bellies, made 
 Of I know not what. I dare swear the 
 
 cook that dress'd it 
 Was the devil, disguised like a Dutchman. 
 
 Gold. Yet all this 
 Will not make you fat, fellow Holdfast. 
 
 Hold. I am rather 
 
 Starv'd to look on't. But here's the mis- 
 chief though 
 
 The dishes were raised one upon another, 
 As woodmongers do.billets, for the first, 
 The second, and third course, and most 
 
 of the shops 
 Of the best confectioners in London ran- 
 
 sack'd, 
 
 To furnish out a banquet ; yet my lady 
 Call'd me penurious rascal, and cried out, 
 There was nothing worth the eating. 
 Gold. You must have patience, " 
 This is not done often. 
 
 Hold. 'Tis not fit it should ; 
 Three such dinners more would break an 
 
 alderman, 
 And make him give up his cloak : I am 
 
 resolv'd 
 To have no hand in't. I'll make up my 
 
 accompts, 
 
 And since my master longs to be undone, 
 The great fiend be his steward : I will pray, 
 And bless myself from him ! [Exit. 
 
 Gold. The wretch shews in this 
 An honest care. 
 
THE CITY MADAM. 
 
 43 1 
 
 Luke. Out on him ! with the fortune 
 Of a slave he has the mind of one. How- 
 
 ever 
 
 She bears me hard, I like my lady's humour, 
 And iny brother's suffrage to it. They are 
 
 now 
 
 Busy on all hands ; one side eager for 
 Large portions, the other arguing strictly 
 For jointures and security ; but this 
 Being above our scale, no way concerns us. 
 How dull you look ! in the mean time, how 
 
 intend you 
 To spend the hours? 
 
 Gold. We well know how we would, 
 But dare not serve our wills. 
 
 Trade. Being prentices, 
 We are bound to attendance. 
 
 Luke. Have you almost served out 
 The term of your indentures, yet make con- 
 
 science 
 By starts to use your liberty ! Hast thou 
 
 traded \To Tradewell. 
 
 In the other world, exposed unto all dangers, 
 To make thy master rich, yet dar'st not take 
 Some portion of the profit for thy pleasure ? 
 Or wilt thou, [to Gold.] being keeper of 
 
 the cash, 
 Like an ass that carries dainties, feed on 
 
 thistles? 
 Are you gentlemen born, yet have no gallant 
 
 tincture 
 
 Of gentry in you ? you are no mechanics, 
 Nor serve some needy shopkeeper, who 
 
 surveys 
 His every-day takings : you have in your 
 
 keeping 
 A mass of wealth, from which you may take 
 
 boldly, 
 
 And no'way be discover'd. He's no rich man 
 That knows all he possesses, and leaves 
 
 nothing 
 
 For his servjjits to make prey of. I blush 
 *" 
 
 Blush at your poverty of spirit ; you, 
 The brave sparks of the city ! 
 
 Gold. Master Luke, 
 
 I wonder you should urge this, having felt 
 What misery follows riot. 
 
 Trade. And the penance. 
 You enclur'd for't in the counter. 
 
 Luke. You are fools, 
 The case is not the same ; I spent mine own 
 
 money, 
 And my stock being small, no marvel 'twas 
 
 soon wasted ; 
 
 But you, without the least doubt or suspicion, 
 If cautelous, may make bold with your 
 
 master's. 
 As, for example, when his ships come home, 
 
 And you take your receipts, as 'tis the 
 
 fashion, 
 
 For fifty bales of silk you may write forty ; 
 Or for so many pieces of cloth of bodkin, 
 Tissue, gold, silver, velvets, satins, taffetas, 
 A piece of each deducted from the gross 
 Will ne'er be miss'd, a dash of a pen will 
 
 do it. 
 Trade. Ay, but our fathers' bonds, that 
 
 lie in pawn 
 For our honesties, must pay for't. 
 
 Luke. A mere bugbear, 
 Invented to fright children ! As I live, 
 Were I the master of my brother's fortunes, 
 I should glory in such servants. Didst thou 
 
 know 
 
 What ravishing lechery it is to enter 
 An ordinary, cap-a-pie, trimm'd like a gal- 
 lant, 
 For which, in trunks conceal'd, be ever 
 
 furnish'd ; 
 The reverence, respect, the crouches, 
 
 cringes, 
 The musical chime of gold in your cramm'd 
 
 pockets, 
 Commands from the attendants, and poor 
 
 porters 
 
 Trade. O rare ! 
 
 Luke. Then sitting at the table with 
 The braveries of the kingdom, you shall hear 
 Occurrents from all corners of the world, 
 The plots, the counsels, the designs of 
 
 princes, 
 
 And freely censure them ; the city wits 
 Cried up, or decried, as their passions lead 
 
 them ; 
 
 Judgment having nought to do there. 
 Trade. Admirable ! 
 Luke. My lord no sooner shall rise out of 
 
 his chair, 
 The gaming lord I mean, but you may 
 
 boldly, 
 
 By the privilege of a gamester, fill his room, 
 For in play you are all fellows ; have your 
 
 knife 
 As soon in the pheasant ; drink your health 
 
 as freely, 
 
 And, striking in a lucky hand or two, 
 Buy out your time. 
 
 Trade. This may be ; but suppose 
 We should be known ? 
 
 Luke. Have money and good clothes, 
 And you may pass invisible. Or, if 
 You love a madam-punk, and your wide 
 
 nostril 
 Be taken with the scent of cambric smocks, 
 
 Wrought and perfumed 
 
 Gold. There, there, master Luke, 
 There lies my road of happiness ! 
 
43 2 
 
 THE CITY MADAM. 
 
 Luke. Enjoy it. 
 
 And pleasure stolen, being sweetest, appre- 
 hend 
 
 The raptures of being hurried in a coach 
 To Brentford, Staines, or Barnet. 
 
 Gold. 'Tis enchanting. 
 I have proved it. 
 Luke. Hast thou? 
 Gold. Yes, in all these places 
 I have had my several pagans billeted 
 For my own tooth, and after ten-pound sup- 
 pers 
 The curtains drawn, my fiddlers playing all 
 
 night 
 
 The shaking of the sheets, which I have danced 
 Again and again with my cockatrice : 
 
 master Luke, 
 You shall be of my counsel, and we two 
 
 sworn brothers ; 
 
 And therefore I'll be open. I am out now 
 Six hundred in the cash, yet if on a sudden 
 I. should be call'd to account, I have a trick 
 How to evade it, and make up the sum. 
 Trade. Is't possible ? 
 Luke. You can instruct your tutor. 
 How, how, good Tom ? 
 
 Gold. Why, look you. We cash-keepers 
 Hold correspondence, supply one another 
 On all occasions : I can borrow for a week 
 Two hundred pounds of one, as much of a 
 
 second, 
 A third lays down the rest ; and, when they 
 
 want, 
 
 As my master's monies come in I do repay it : 
 Ka me, ka thee! 
 
 Luke. An excellent knot ! 'tis pity 
 It e'er should be unloosed ; for me it shall 
 
 not. 
 You are shewn the way, friend Tradewell, you 
 
 may make use on't, 
 
 Or freeze in the warehouse, and keep com- 
 pany 
 With the cater, Holdfast. 
 
 Trade. No, I am converted. 
 A Barbican broker will furnish me with 
 
 outside, 
 And then, a crash at the ordinary ! 
 
 Gold. I am for 
 
 The lady you saw this morning, who indeed is 
 My proper recreation. 
 Luke. Go to, Tom ; 
 What did you make me ? 
 
 Gold. I'll do as much for you, 
 Employ me when you please. 
 
 Luke. If you are enquired for, 
 I will excuse you both. 
 
 Trade. Kind master Luke ! 
 Gold. We'll break my master to make 
 you. You know 
 
 Luke. I cannot love money. Go, boys ! 
 \_Exeunt Goldwire and Tradewell. 
 
 When time serves, 
 It shall appear I have another end in't. 
 
 [Exif. 
 
 SCENE II. Another Room in the same. 
 Enter Sir John Frugal, Lord Lacy, Sir 
 Maurice Lacy, Plenty, Lady Frugal, 
 Anne, Mary, and Milliscent. 
 Sir John. Ten thousand pounds a piece 
 
 I'll make their portions, 
 And after my decease it shall be double, 
 Provided you assure them, for their jointures, 
 Eight hundred pounds per annum, and entail 
 A thousand more upon the heirs male 
 Begotten on their bodies. 
 
 L. Lacy. Sir, you bind us 
 To very strict conditions. 
 Plenty. You, my lord, 
 May do as you please : but to me it seems 
 
 strange, 
 We should conclude of portions, and of 
 
 jointures, 
 Before our hearts are settled. 
 
 L. Fr2tg. You say right : 
 There are counsels of more moment and im- 
 portance, 
 
 On the making up of marriages, to be 
 Consider 'd duly, than the portion or the 
 
 jointures, 
 
 In which a mother's care must be exacted ; 
 And I, by special privilege, may challenge 
 A casting voice. 
 
 L. Lacy. How's this? 
 L. Frug. Even so, my lord ; 
 In these affairs I govern. 
 L. Lacy. Give you way to't ? 
 Sir John. I must, my lord. 
 L. Frug. Tis fit he should, and shall. 
 You may consult of something else, this 
 
 province 
 Is wholly mine. 
 
 Sir Maur. By the city custom, madam? 
 L. Frtig. Yes, my young sir ; and both 
 
 must look my daughters 
 Will hold it by my copy. 
 Plenty. Brave, i' faith ! 
 Sir John. Give her leave to talk, we have 
 
 the power to do ; 
 And now touching the business we last 
 
 talk'd of, 
 In private, if you please. 
 
 L. Lacy. 'Tis well remember 'd : 
 You shall take your own way, madam. 
 \_Exe^lnt Lord Lacy and Sir John Frugal. 
 Sir Maur. What strange lecture 
 Will she read unto us ? 
 L. Frug. Such as wisdom warrants 
 
THE CITY MADAM. 
 
 433 
 
 From the superior bodies. Is Stargaze ready 
 
 With his several schemes ? 
 
 Mill. Yes, madam, and attends 
 
 Your pleasure. 
 
 Sir Maur. Stargaze ! lady : what is he ? 
 L. Frug. Call him in. [Exit Milliscent.] 
 You shall first know him, then admire 
 him 
 
 For a man of many parts, and those parts 
 rare ones. 
 
 He's every thing, indeed ; parcel physician, 
 
 And as such prescribes my diet, and foretels 
 
 My dreams when I eat potatoes ; parcel poet, 
 
 And sings encomiums to my virtues sweetly ; 
 
 My antecedent, or my gentleman-usher, 
 
 And as the stars move, with that due pro- 
 portion 
 
 He walks before me : but an absolute master 
 
 In the calculation of nativities ; 
 
 Guided by that ne'er-erring science call'd, 
 
 Judicial astrology. 
 
 Plenty. Stargaze ! sure 
 
 I have a penny almanack about me 
 
 Inscribed to you, as to his patronness, 
 
 In his name publish 'd. 
 
 L. Frug. Keep it as a jewel. 
 I Some statesmen that I will not name are 
 wholly 
 
 Govern'd by his predictions ; for they serve 
 
 For any latitude in Christendom, 
 
 As well as our own climate. 
 
 Re-enter Milliscent, followed by Stargaze, 
 ^uith. two schemes. 
 
 Sir Maur. I believe so. 
 Plenty. Must we couple by the almanack ? 
 L. Frug. Be silent ; 
 j And ere we do articulate, much more 
 Grow to a full conclusion, instruct us 
 j Whether this day and hour, by the planets, 
 
 promise ,,,-, 
 j Happy success in fiiarriage. 
 
 Star. In omni 
 \ Parte, et toto. 
 
 Plenty. Good learn 'd sir, in English ; 
 And since it is resolved we must be cox- 
 combs, 
 Make us so in our own language. 
 
 Star. You are pleasant : 
 Thus in our vulgar tongue then. 
 L. Frug. Pray you observe him. 
 Star. Venus, in the west angle, the house 
 of marriage the seventh house, in trine of 
 Mars, in conjunction of Luna ; and Mars 
 almuthen, or lord of the horoscope. 
 Plenty. Hey-day ! 
 L. Frug. The angels' language ! I am 
 
 ravish'd : forward. 
 Star. Mars, as I said, lord of the horo- 
 
 scope, or geniture, in mutual reception of 
 each other ; she in her exaltation, and he in 
 his triplicite trine, and face, assure a for- 
 tunate combination to Hymen, excellent, 
 prosperous, and happy. 
 
 L. Frug. Kneel, and give thanks. 
 
 {The Women kneel. 
 
 Sir Maur. For what we understand not ? 
 
 Plenty. And have as little faith in ? 
 
 L. Frug. Be incredulous ; 
 To me, 'tis oracle. 
 
 Star. Now for the sovereignty of my future 
 ladies, your daughters, after they are mar- 
 ried. 
 
 Plenty. Wearing the breeches, you mean? 
 
 L. Frug. Touch that point home : 
 It is a principal one, and, with London 
 
 ladies, 
 Of main consideration. 
 
 Star. This is infallible : Saturn out of all dig- 
 nities in his detriment and fall, combust : and 
 Venus in the south angle elevated above him, 
 lady of both their nativities, in her essential 
 and accidental dignities ; occidental from 
 the sun, oriental from the angle of the east, 
 in cazini of the sun, in her joy, and free 
 from the malevolent beams of infortunes ; in 
 a sign commanding, and Mars in a constel- 
 lation obeying ; she fortunate, and he de- 
 jected : the disposers of marriage in the 
 radix of the native in feminine figures, argue, 
 foretel, and declare rule, pre-eminence, and 
 absolute sovereignty in women. 
 
 L. Frug. Is't possible ! 
 
 Star. Tis drawn, I assure you, from the 
 aphorisms of the old Chaldeans, Zoroastes 
 the first and greatest magician, Mercurius 
 Trismegistus, the later Ptolemy, and the 
 everlasting prognosticator, old Erra Pater. 
 
 L. Frug. Are you yet satisfied ? 
 
 Plenty. In what ? 
 
 L. Frug. That you 
 
 Are bound to obey your wives ; it being so 
 Determined by the stars, against whose 
 
 influence 
 There is no opposition. 
 
 Plenty. Since I must 
 Be married by the almanack, as I may be, 
 'Twere requisite the services and duties 
 Which, as you say, I must pay to my wife, 
 Were set down in the calendar. 
 
 Sir Maur. With the date 
 Of my apprenticeship. 
 
 L. Frug. Make your demands ; 
 I'll sit as moderatrix, if they press you 
 With over-hard conditions. 
 
 Sir Maur. Mine hath the van ; 
 I stand your charge, sweet. 
 
 Star. Silenc. 
 
 F F 
 
434 
 
 THE CITY MADAM. 
 
 Anne. I require first, 
 And that, since 'tis in fashion with kind 
 
 husbands, 
 
 In civil manners you must grant, my will 
 In all things whatsoever, and that will 
 To be obey'd, not argued. 
 L. Frug. And good reason. 
 Plenty. A gentle imprimis / 
 Sir Maur. This in gross contains all : 
 < But your special items, lady. 
 
 Anne. When I am one, 
 1 And you are honour'd to be styled my hus- 
 band, 
 
 To urge my having my page, my gentleman- 
 usher, 
 
 My woman sworn to my secrets, my caroch 
 Drawn by six Flanders mares, my coachman, 
 
 grooms, 
 Postillion, and footmen. 
 
 Sir Maur. Is there aught else 
 To be demanded? 
 
 Anne. Yes, sir, mine own doctor. 
 
 : French and Italian cooks, musicians, 
 
 songsters, 
 And a chaplain that must preach to please 
 
 my fancy : 
 
 A friend at court to place me at a masque ; 
 The private box ta'en up at a new play, 
 For me and my retinue ; a fresh habit, 
 Of a fashion never seen before, to draw 
 The gallanis' eyes, that sit on the stage, upon 
 
 me ; 
 
 Some decayed lady for my parasite, 
 To flatter me, and rail at other madams ; 
 And there ends my ambition. 
 
 Sir Maur. Your desires 
 Are modest, I confess ! 
 
 Anne. These toys subscribed to, 
 And you continuing an obedient husband, 
 \ Upon all fit occasions you shall find me 
 A most indulgent wife. 
 
 L. Frug. You have said ; give place, 
 And hear your younger sister. 
 
 Plenty. If she speak 
 Her language, may the great fiend, booted 
 
 and spurr'd, 
 With a sithe at his girdle, as the Scotchman 
 
 says, 
 Ride headlong down her throat ! 
 
 Sir Maur. Curse not the judge, 
 Before you hear the sentence. 
 
 Mary. In some part 
 My sister hath spoke well for the city 
 
 pleasures, 
 
 But I am for the country's ; and must say, 
 Under correction, in her demands 
 She was too modest. 
 
 Sir Maur. How like you this exordium ? 
 Plenty. Too modest, with a mischief ! 
 
 Yes, too modest : 
 I know my value, and prize it to the worth, [ 
 
 My youth, my beauty 
 
 Plenty. How your glass deceives you ! 
 Mary. The greatness of the portion I 
 
 bring with me, 
 And the sea of happiness that from me 
 
 flows to you. 
 
 Sir Maur. She bears up close. 
 Mary. And can you, in your wisdom, 
 Or rustical simplicity, imagine 
 You have met some' innocent country girl, 
 
 that never 
 Look'd further than her father's farm, nor 
 
 knew more 
 Than the price of corn in the market ; or at 
 
 what rate 
 Beef went a stone ? that would survey your 
 
 dairy, 
 And bring in mutton out of cheese and 
 
 butter? 
 That could give directions at what time of 
 
 the moon 
 
 To cut her cocks for capons against Christmas, 
 Or when to raise up goslings ? 
 
 Plenty. These are arts 
 Would not misbecome you, though you 
 
 should put in 
 Obedience and duty. 
 
 Mary. Yes, and patience, 
 To sit like a fool at home, and eye your 
 
 thrashers ; 
 Then make provision for your slavering 
 
 hounds, 
 When you come drunk from an alehouse, 
 
 after hunting 
 With your clowns and comrades, as if all 
 
 were yours, 
 
 You the lord paramount, and I the drudge ; 
 The case, sir, must be otherwise. 
 Plenty. How, I beseech you ? 
 Mary. Marry, thus : I will not, like my 
 
 sister, challenge 
 
 What's useful or superfluous from my hus- 
 band, 
 That's base all o'er ; mine shall receive 
 
 from me 
 
 What I think fit ; I'll have the state convey'd 
 Into my hands, and he put to his pension, 
 Which the wise viragos of our climate prac- 
 tise ; 
 
 I will receive your rents. 
 Plenty. You shall be hang'd first. 
 Mary. Make sale or purchase : nay, I'll 
 
 have my neighbours 
 Instructed, when a passenger shall ask, 
 Whose house, is this? (though you .stand 
 
 by) to answer, 
 The lady Plenty's. Or who owns this manor? 
 
THE CITY MADAM. 
 
 435 
 
 The lady Plenty. Whose sheep are these, 
 
 whose oxen ? 
 The lady Plenty's. 
 Plenty. A plentiful pox upon you ! 
 Mary. And when I have children, if it be 
 
 inquired 
 By a stranger, whose they are ? they shall 
 
 still echo, 
 My lady Plenty's, the husband never thought 
 
 on. 
 
 Plenty. In their begetting : I think so. 
 Mary. Since you'll marry- 
 In the city for our wealth, in justice, we 
 Must have the country's sovereignty. 
 Plenty. And we nothing. 
 Mary. A nag of forty shillings, a couple 
 
 of spaniels, 
 With a sparhawk, is sufficient, and these 
 
 too, 
 As you shall behave yourself, during my 
 
 pleasure, 
 
 I will not greatly stand on. I have said, sir, 
 Now if you like me, so. 
 
 L. Frug. At my entreaty, 
 The articles shall be easier. 
 
 Plenty. Shall they, i' faith ? 
 Like bitch, like whelps. 
 Sir Maur. Use fair words. 
 Plenty. I cannot ; 
 I have read of a house of pride, and now I 
 
 have found one : 
 A whirlwind overturn it ! 
 
 Sir Maur. On these terms, 
 Will your minxship be a lady ? 
 Plenty. A lady in a morris : 
 I'll wed a pedlar's punk first 
 
 Sir Maur. Tinker's trull, 
 A beggar without a smock. 
 
 Plenty. Let monsieur almanack, 
 Since he is so cunning with his Jacob's staff, 
 Find you out a hue^and in a bowling-ailey. 
 Sir Maur. The general pimp to a brothel. 
 Plenty. Though that now 
 All the loose desires of man were raked up 
 
 in me, 
 And no means but thy maidenhead left to 
 
 quench them, 
 I would turn cinders, or the next sow- 
 
 gelder, 
 
 On my life, should lib me, rather than em- 
 brace thee. 
 
 Anne. Wooing do you call this ! 
 Mary. A bear-baiting rather. 
 Plenty. Were you worried, you deserve 
 
 it, and I hope 
 I shall live to see it. 
 
 Sir Maur. I'll not rail, nor curse you : 
 Only this, you are pretty peats, and your 
 great portions 
 
 Add much unto your handsomeness ; but as 
 You would command your husbands, you. 
 
 are beggars, 
 Deform 'd and ugly. 
 L. Frug. Hear me. 
 Plenty. Not a word more. 
 
 [Exeunt Sir Maurice Lacy and Plenty. 
 Anne. I ever thought it would come to this. 
 Mary. We may 
 
 Lead apes in hell for husbands, if you bind us 
 To articulate thus with our suitors. 
 
 \Both speak weeping. 
 Star. Now the cloud breaks, 
 And the storm will fall on me. \Aside. 
 
 L. Frug. You rascal ! juggler ! 
 
 [She breaks Stargaze's head, and beats 
 
 him. 
 
 Star. Dear madam. 
 L. Frug. Hold you intelligence with the 
 
 stars, 
 And thus deceive me ! 
 
 Star. My art cannot err ; 
 If it does, I'll burn my astrolabe. In mine 
 
 own star 
 
 I did forsee this broken head, and beating ; 
 And now your ladyship sees, as I do feel it* 
 It could not be avoided. 
 L. Frug. Did you ? 
 Star. Madam, 
 
 Have patience but a week, and if you find not 
 All my predictions true, touching your 
 
 daughters, 
 And a change of fortune to yourself, a rare 
 
 one, 
 Turn me out of doors. These are not the- 
 
 men the planets 
 Appointed for their husbands ; there will, 
 
 come 
 
 Gallants of another metal. 
 Mill. Once more trust him. 
 Anne. Mary. Do, lady-mother. 
 L. Frug. I am vex'd, look to it ; 
 Turn o'er your books ; if once again you, 
 
 fool me, 
 
 You shall graze elsewhere : come, girls. 
 Star. I am glad I scaped thus. 
 
 [Aside. Exeunt,'., 
 
 SCENE III. Another Room in the saw* 
 Enter Lord Lacy and Sir John Frugal. 
 
 L. Lacy. The plot shews very likely. 
 Sir John. I repose 
 My principal trust in your lordship ; 'twill 
 
 prepare 
 
 The physic I intend to minister 
 To my wife and daughters. 
 
 L. Lacy. I will do my parts, 
 To set it off to the life. 
 *, FF2 
 
436 
 
 THE CITY MADAM. 
 
 Enter Sir Maurice Lacy, and Plenty. 
 
 Sir John. It may produce 
 A scene of no vulgar mirth. Here come the 
 
 suitors ; 
 When we understand how they relish my 
 
 wife's humours, 
 The rest is feasible. 
 
 L. Lacy. Their looks are cloudy. 
 
 Sir John. How sits the wind ? are you 
 
 ready to launch forth 
 Into this sea of marriage ? 
 
 Plenty. Call it rather, 
 A whirlpool of afflictions. 
 
 Sir Maur. If you please 
 To enjoin me to it, I will undertake 
 To find the north passage to the Indies 
 
 sooner, 
 Than plough with your proud heifer. 
 
 Plenty. I will make 
 A voyage to hell first. 
 Sir John. How, sir ! 
 Pleniy. And court Proserpine, 
 In the sight of Pluto, his three-headed porter, 
 Cerberus, standing by, and all the Furies 
 With their whips to scourge me for't, than 
 
 say, I Jeffrey 
 Take you, Mary, for my wife. 
 
 L. Lacy. Why, what's the matter? 
 
 Sir Maur. The matter is, the mother (with 
 
 your pardon, 
 I cannot but speak so much) is a most un- 
 
 sufferable, 
 Proud, insolent lady. 
 
 Plenty. And the daughters worse. 
 The dam in years had the advantage to be 
 
 wicked, 
 
 But they were so in her belly. 
 Sir Maur. I must tell you, 
 With reverence to your wealth, I do begin 
 To think you of the same leaven. 
 
 Plenty. Take my counsel ; 
 *T5s safer for your credit to profess 
 Yourself a cuckold, and upon record, 
 Than say they are your daughters. 
 Sir John. You go too far, sir. 
 Sir Maur. They have so articled with us ! 
 Plenty. And will not take us 
 For their husbands, but their slaves ; and so 
 
 aforehand 
 
 They do profess they'll use us. 
 Sir John. Leave this heat : 
 Though they are mine, I must tell you, the 
 
 perverseness 
 Of their manners (which they did not take 
 
 from me, 
 
 But from their mother) qualified, they de- 
 serve 
 Your equals. 
 
 Sir Maur. True ; but what's bred in the 
 
 bone, 
 Admits no hope of cure. 
 
 Plenty. Though saints and angels 
 Were their physicians. 
 
 Sir John. You conclude too fast, 
 
 Plenty. God be wi' you ! I'll travel three 
 
 years, but I'll bury 
 This shame that lives upon me. 
 
 Sir Maur. With your license, 
 I'll keep him company. 
 
 L. Lacy. Who shall furnish you 
 For your expenses. 
 
 Plenty. He shall not need your help, 
 My purse is his ; we were rivals, but now 
 
 friends, 
 And will live and die so. 
 
 Sir Maur. Ere we go, I'll pay 
 My duty as a son. 
 
 Plenty. And till then leave you. 
 \Exeunt Sir Maurice, Lacy, and Plenty. 
 
 L. Lacy. They are strangely moved. 
 
 Sir John. What's wealth, accompanied ; 
 With disobedience in a wife and children ? 
 My heart will break. 
 
 L. Lacy. Be comforted, and hope better : 
 We'll ride abroad ; the fresh air and dis- 
 course 
 May yield us new inventions. 
 
 Sir John. You are noble, 
 And shall in all things, as you please, com- 
 mand me. [Exeunt. 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 SCENE I. A Room in Secret's House. 
 
 Enter Shave'em and Secret. 
 Secret. Dead doings, daughter. 
 Shave. Doings ! sufferings, mother : 
 [For poor] men have forgot what doing is ; 
 And such as have to pay for what they do, 
 Are impotent, or eunuchs. 
 
 Secret. You have a friend yet, 
 And a striker too, I take it. 
 
 Shave. Goldwire is so, and comes 
 To me by stealth, and, as he can steal, 
 
 maintains me 
 In clothes, I grant ; but alas ! dame, what's 
 
 one friend ? 
 I would have a hundred ; for every hour, 
 
 and use, 
 
 And change of humour I am in, a fresh one : 
 'Tis a flock of sheep that makes a lean wolf 
 
 fat, 
 
 And not a single lambkin. I am starv'd, 
 Starv'd in my pleasures ; I know not what 
 
 a coach is, 
 To hurry me to the Burse, or Old Exchange : 
 
THE CITY MADAM. 
 
 437 
 
 The neathouse for musk-melons, and the 
 
 gardens, 
 
 Where we traffic for asparagus, are, to me, 
 In the other world. 
 
 Secret. There are other places, lady, 
 Where you might find customers. 
 
 Shave. You would have me foot it 
 To the dancing of the ropes, sit a whole 
 
 afternoon there 
 
 In expectation of nuts and pippins ; 
 Gape round about me, and yet not find a 
 
 chapman 
 
 That in courtesy will bid a chop of mutton, 
 Or a pint of drum-wine for me. 
 
 Secret. You are so impatient ! 
 But I can tell you news will comfort you, 
 And the whole sisterhood. 
 
 Shave. What's that? 
 
 Secret. I am told 
 Two ambassadors are come over : a French 
 
 monsieur, 
 
 And a Venetian, one of the clarissimi, 
 A hot-rein'd marmoset. Their followers, 
 For their countries' honour, after a long 
 
 vacation, 
 Will make a full term with us. 
 
 Shave. They indeed are 
 Our certain and best customers : [knocking 
 within. ~\ Who knocks there ? 
 
 Ramb. [within.'] Open the door. 
 
 Secret. What are you ? 
 
 Ramb. [within.'] Ramble. 
 
 Scuff, [within.] Scuffle. 
 
 Ramb. [within.] Your constant visitants. 
 
 Shave. Let them not in ; 
 I know them, swaggering, suburbian roarers, 
 Sixpenny truckers. 
 
 Ramb. [within.'] Down go all your win- 
 dows, 
 And your neighbours' too shall suffer. 
 
 Scuff, [within.^ Force the doors! 
 
 Secret. They are outlaws, mistress 
 
 Shave'em, and there is 
 No remedy against them. What should you 
 
 fear? 
 
 They are but men ; lying at your close ward, 
 You have foil'd their betters. 
 
 Shave. Out, you bawd ! you care not 
 Upon what desperate service you employ me, 
 Nor with whom, so you have your fee. 
 
 Secret. Sweet lady-bird, 
 Sing in a milder key. 
 
 Exit, and re-enters with. Ramble and 
 Scuffle. 
 
 Scuff. Are you grown proud ? 
 
 Ramb. I knew you a waistcoateer in the 
 
 garden alleys, 
 And would come to a sailor's whistle. 
 
 Secret. Good sir Ramble, 
 Use her not roughly ; she is very tender. 
 Ramb. Rank and rotten, is she not ? 
 
 [Shave'em draws her knife* 
 Shave. Your spittle rogueships 
 
 [Ramble draws his sword. 
 Shall not make me so. 
 
 Secret. As you are a man, squire Scuffle, 
 Step in between them : a weapon of that 
 
 length, 
 Was never drawn in my house. 
 
 Shave. Let him come on. 
 I'll scour it in your guts, you dog ! 
 
 Ramb. You brache ! 
 
 Are you turn'd mankind ? you forgot I gave 
 you, 
 
 When we last join'd issue, twenty pound 
 
 Shave. O'er night, 
 And kick'd it out of me in the morning. I 
 
 was then 
 A novice, but I know to make my game 
 
 now. 
 Fetch the constable. 
 
 Enter Goldwire junior, disguised like a 
 Justice of Peace, Ding'em like a Con- 
 stable, and Musicians like Watchmen. 
 
 Secret. Ah me ! here's one unsent for, 
 And a justice of peace, too. 
 
 Shave. I'll hang you both, you rascals ! 
 I can but ride : you for the purse you cut 
 In Paul's at a sermon ; I have smoak'd. 
 
 you, ha ! 
 And you for the bacon you took on the 
 
 highway, 
 
 From the poor market woman, as she rode 
 From Rumford. 
 Ramb. Mistress Shave'em. 
 Scuff. Mistress Secret, 
 On our knees we beg your pardon. 
 Ramb. Set a ransome on us. 
 Secret. We cannot stand trifling : if you 
 
 mean to save them, 
 Shut them out at the back-door. 
 Shave. First, for punishment, 
 They shall leave their cloaks behind them ; 
 
 and in sign 
 
 I am their sovereign, and they my vassals, 
 For homage kiss my shoe-sole, rogues, and 
 vanish ! [Exeunt Ramble and Scuffle. 
 Gold. My brave virago ! The coast's clear ; 
 strike up. 
 
 [Goldwire, and the rest discover them- 
 selves. 
 
 Shave. My Goldwire made a justice ! 
 Secret. And your scout 
 Turn'd constable, and the musicians watch- 
 
433 
 
 THE CITY MADAM. 
 
 Gold. We come not to fright you, but to 
 
 make you merry : 
 A light lavolta. {They dance. 
 
 Shave. I am tired ; no more. 
 This was your device ? 
 
 Ding. Wholly his own ; he is 
 No pig-sconce, mistress. 
 
 Secret. He has an excellent headpiece. 
 Gold. Fie ! no, not I ; your jeering gallants 
 
 say, 
 We citizens have no wit. 
 
 Ding. He dies that says so : 
 This was a masterpiece. 
 
 Gold. A trifling stratagem , 
 Not worth the talking of. 
 
 Shave. I must kiss thee for it, 
 Again, and again. [They kiss. 
 
 Ding. Make much of her. Did you 
 know 
 
 What suitors she had since she saw you 
 
 Gold. I' the way of marriage? 
 
 Ding. Yes, sir ; for marriage, and the other 
 
 thing too ; 
 The commodity is the same. An Irish lord 
 
 offer'd her 
 Five pound a week. 
 
 Secret. And a cashier 'd captain, half 
 Of his entertainment. 
 
 Ding. And a new-made courtier, 
 The next suit he could beg. 
 
 Gold. And did my sweet one 
 Refuse all this, for me ? 
 
 Shave. Weep not for joy ; 
 'Tis true. Let others talk of lords and com- 
 manders, 
 And country heirs for their servants ; but 
 
 give me 
 
 My gallant prentice ! he parts with his money 
 So civilly and demurely, keeps no account 
 Of his expenses, and comes ever funiish'd. - 
 I know thou hast brought money to make 
 
 up 
 
 My gown and petticoat, with the appurte- 
 nances. 
 Gold. I have it here, duck ; thou shalt 
 
 want for nothing. 
 
 Shave. Let the chamber be perfumed ; 
 and get you, sirrah, [To Ding'em. 
 
 His cap and pantofles ready. 
 
 Gold. There's for thee, 
 And thee : that for a banquet. 
 
 Secret. And a caudle 
 Again you rise. 
 
 Gold. There. [Gives them money. 
 
 Shave. Usher us up in state. 
 Gold. You will be constant? 
 Shave. Thou art the whole world to me. 
 [Exeunt ; Gold, and Shave, embracing, 
 music playing before them. 
 
 SCENE II. A Room in Sir John Frugal's 
 
 House. 
 Enter Luke. 
 
 Anne. \within.~\ Where is this uncle? 
 L. Frug. \yjithin. \ Call this beadsman- 
 brother ; 
 He hath forgot attendance. 
 
 Mary, [within.'] Seek him out ; 
 Idleness spoils him. 
 
 Luke. I deserve much more 
 Than their scorn can load me with, and 'tis 
 
 but justice 
 That I should live the family's drudge, 
 
 design'd 
 
 To all the sordid offices their pride 
 Imposes on me ; since, if now I sat 
 A judge in mine own cause, I should conclude 
 1 am not worth their pity. Such as want 
 Discourse, and judgment, and through weak- 
 ness fall, 
 
 May merit man's compassion ; but I, 
 That knew profuseness of expense the parent 
 Of wretched poverty, her fatal daughter^ 
 To riot out mine own, to live upon 
 The alms of others, steering on a rock 
 I might have shunn'd ! O Heaven ! it is not 
 
 fit 
 
 I should look upward, much less hope for 
 mercy. 
 
 Enter Lady Frugal, Anne, Mary, Stargaze, 
 and Milliscent. 
 
 L. Frug. What are you devising, sir? 
 
 Anne. My uncle is much given 
 To his devotion. 
 
 Mary. And takes time to mumble 
 A paternoster to himself. 
 
 L. Frug. Know you where 
 Your brother is ? it better would become you 
 (Your means of life depending wholly on him) 
 To give your attendance. 
 
 Luke. In my will I do : 
 But since he rode forth yesterday with lord 
 
 Lacy, 
 I have not seen him. 
 
 L. Frug. And why went not you 
 By his stirrup ? How do you look ! were his 
 
 eyes closed, 
 You'd be glad of such employment. 
 
 Luke. "Twas his pleasure 
 I should wait your commands, and those I 
 
 am ever 
 Most ready to receive. 
 
 L. Frug. I know you can speak well ; 
 But say, and do. 
 
 Ettter Lord Lacy. 
 Luke. Here comes my lord. 
 
THE CITY MADAM. 
 
 439 
 
 L. Frug. Further off : 
 You are no companion for him, and his 
 
 business 
 Aims not at you, as I take it. 
 
 Luke. Can I live 
 In this base condition ! 
 
 [He stands aside. 
 L. Frug. I hope, my lord, 
 You had brought master Frugal with you ; 
 
 for I must ask 
 An account of him from you. 
 
 L. Lacy. I can give it, lady; 
 But with the best discretion of a woman, 
 And a strong fortified patience, I desire you 
 To give it hearing. 
 Luke. My heart beats. 
 L. Frug. My lord, you much amaze me. 
 L. Lacy. I shall astonish you. The noble 
 
 merchant, 
 
 Who, living, was, for his integrity 
 And upright dealing, (a rare miracle 
 In a rich citizen,) London's best honour ; 
 
 Is 1 am loth to speak it. 
 
 Luke. Wonderous strange ! 
 
 L. Frug. I do suppose the worst ; not 
 
 dead, I hope? 
 L. Lacy. Your supposition's true, your 
 
 hopes are false ; 
 He's dead. 
 
 L. Frug. Ah me ! 
 Anne. My father ! 
 Mary. My kind father ! 
 Luke. Now they insult not. 
 L. Lacy. Pray hear me out. 
 He's dead ; dead to the world and you, and, 
 
 now, 
 Lives only to himself. 
 
 Luke. What riddle's this? 
 
 L. Frug. Act not the torturer in my 
 
 afflictions ; $/ 
 
 But make me understand the sum of all 
 That I must undergo. 
 
 L. Lacy. In few words take it : 
 He is retired into a monastery, 
 W T here he resolves to end his days. 
 Luke. More strange. 
 L. Lacy. I saw him take post for Dover, 
 
 and the wind 
 
 Sitting so fair, by this he's safe at Calais, 
 And ere long will be at Lovain. 
 
 L. Frug. Could I guess 
 What were the motives that induced him 
 
 to it, 
 'Twere some allay to my sorrows. 
 
 L. Lacy. I'll instruct you, 
 And chide you into that' knowledge ; 'twas 
 
 your pride 
 
 Above your rank, and stubborn disobe- 
 dience 
 
 Of these your daughters, in their milksuck'd 
 
 from'you : 
 
 At home the harshness of his entertainment, 
 You wilfully forgetting that your all 
 Was borrow'd from him ; and to hear 
 
 abroad 
 
 The imputations dispers'd upon you, 
 And justly too, I fear, that drew him to 
 This strict retirement : and, thus much said 
 
 for him, 
 I am myself to accuse you. 
 
 L. Frug. I confess 
 
 A guilty cause to him ; but, in a thought, 
 My lord, I ne'er wrong'd you. 
 L. Lacy. In fact, you have. 
 The insolent disgrace you put upon 
 My only son, and Plenty, men that loved 
 Your daughters in a noble way, to wash off 
 The scandal, put a resolution in them 
 For three years travel. 
 L. Frug. I am much grieved for it. 
 L. Lacy. One thing I had forgot ; your 
 
 rigour to 
 
 His decay'd brother, in which your flatteries, 
 Or sorceries, made him a co-agent with you, 
 Wrought not the least impression. 
 Luke. Hum ! this sounds well. 
 L. Frug. 'Tis now past help : after these 
 
 storms, my lord, 
 A little calm, if you please. 
 
 L. Lacy. If what I have told you, 
 Shew'd like a storm, what now I must de- 
 liver, 
 Will prove a raging tempest. His whole 
 
 estate, 
 In lands and leases, debts and present 
 
 monies, 
 
 With all the movables he stood possess'd of, 
 W r ith the best advice which he could get for 
 
 gold 
 From his learned counsel, by this formal 
 
 will 
 
 Is pass'd o'er to his brother. {Giving the 
 will to Luke, who comes forward.^ With 
 it take 
 The key of his counting-house. Not a groat 
 
 left you, 
 
 Which you can call your own. 
 L. Frug. Undone for ever ! 
 Anne. Mary. What will become of us? 
 Luke. Hum ! [Aside. 
 
 L. Lacy. The scene is changed, 
 And he that was your slave, by Fate ar> 
 pointed 
 
 [Lady Frugal, Mary, and Anne kneel. 
 Your governor : you kneel to me in vain, 
 I cannot help you : I discharge the trust 
 Imposed upon me. This humility, 
 From him may gain remission, and, perhaps, 
 
440 
 
 THE CITY MADAM. 
 
 Forgetfulness of your barbarous usage to 
 
 him. 
 
 L. Frug. Am I come to this ? 
 L. Lacy. Enjoy your own, good sir, 
 But use it with due reverence. I once heard 
 
 you 
 
 Speak most divinely in the opposition 
 Of a revengeful humour ; to these shew it, 
 And such who then depended on the mercy 
 Of your brother, wholly now at your devo- 
 tion, 
 
 ' And make good the opinion I held of you, 
 Of which I am most confident. 
 
 Luke. Pray you rise, [Raises them. 
 
 ' And rise with this assurance, I am still, 
 ! As I was of late, your creature ; and if raised 
 In anything, 'tis in my power to serve you, 
 My .will is still the same. O my good lord ! 
 ; This heap of wealth which you possess me of, 
 j Which to a worldly man had been a blessing, 
 And to the messenger might with justice 
 
 challenge 
 
 A kind of adoration, is to me 
 ! A curse I cannot thank you for ; and, much 
 
 less, 
 
 | Rejoice in that tranquillity of mind 
 i My brother's vows must purchase. I have 
 
 made 
 
 A dear exchange with him : he now enjoys 
 My peace and poverty, the trouble of 
 His wealth conferr'd on me, and that a 
 
 burthen 
 Too heavy for my weak shoulders. 
 
 L. Lacy. Honest soul, 
 With what feeling he receives it ! 
 
 L. Frug. You shall have 
 My best assistance, if you please to use it, 
 To help you to support it. 
 
 Luke. By no means ; 
 The weight shall rather sink me, than you 
 
 part 
 , With one short minute from those lawful 
 
 pleasures 
 
 ; Which you were born to, in your care to aid 
 
 me : 
 
 You shall have all abundance. In my nature, 
 I was ever liberal ; my lord, you know it ; 
 Kind, affable. And now methinks I see 
 
 ; Before my face the jubilee of joy, 
 
 1 When 'tis assured my brother lives in me, 
 His debtors, in full cups, crown'd to my 
 
 health, 
 
 With paeans to my praise will celebrate ! 
 For they well know 'tis far from me to take 
 The forfeiture of a bond : nay, I shall blush, 
 The interest never paid after three years, 
 
 ; When I demand my principal : and his 
 servants, 
 
 , Who from aslavish fear paid their obedience, 
 
 By him exacted, now, when they are mine, 
 Will grow familiar friends, and as such use 
 
 me ; 
 
 Being certain of the mildness of my temper, 
 Which my change of fortune, frequent in 
 
 most men, 
 Hath not the power to alter. 
 
 L. Lacy. Yet take heed, sir, 
 You ruin not, with too much lenity, 
 What his fit severity raised. 
 
 L. Frug. And we fall from 
 That height we have maintain'd. 
 
 Luke. I'll build it higher, 
 To admiration higher. With disdain 
 I look upon these habits, no way suiting 
 The wife and daughters of a knighted citizen 
 Bless'd with abundance. 
 
 L. Lacy. There, sir, I join with you ; 
 A fit decorum must be kept, the court 
 Distinguish 'd from the city. 
 Luke. With your favour. 
 I know what you would say ; but give me 
 
 leave 
 
 In this to be your advocate. You are wide, 
 Wide the whole region, in what I purpose. 
 Since all the titles, honours, long descents, 
 Borrow their gloss from wealth, the rich with 
 
 reason 
 May challenge their prerogatives : and it 
 
 shall be 
 
 My glory, nay a triumph, to revive, 
 In the pomp that these shall shine, the memory 
 Of the Roman matrons, who kept captive 
 
 queens 
 To be their handmaids. And when you 
 
 appear, 
 
 Like Juno, in full majesty, and my nieces, 
 Like Iris, Hebe, or what deities else 
 Old poets fancy, (your cramm'd wardrobes 
 
 richer 
 Than various nature's,) and draw down the 
 
 envy 
 Of our western world upon you ; only hold 
 
 me 
 
 Your vigilant Hermes with aerial wings, 
 (My caduceus, my strong zeal to serve you,) 
 Prest to fetch in all rarities may delight you, 
 And I am made immortal. 
 L. Lacy. A strange frenzy ! [Aside. 
 
 Luke. Off with these rags, and then to 
 
 bed ; there dream 
 
 Of future greatnesss, which, when you awake, 
 I'll make a certain truth : but I must be 
 A doer, not a promiser. The performance 
 Requiring haste, I kiss your hands, and 
 
 leave you. [Exit. 
 
 L. Lacy. Are we all turn'd statues? have 
 
 his strange words charm'd us ? 
 What muse you on, Jady ? 
 
THE CITY MADAM. 
 
 L. Frug. Do not trouble me. 
 
 L. Lacy. Sleep you too, young ones ? 
 
 Anne. Swift-wing'd time till now 
 Was never tedious to me. Would 'twere 
 night ! 
 
 Mary. Nay, morning rather. 
 
 L. Lacy. Can you ground your faith 
 On such impossibilities ? have you so soon 
 Forgot your good husband ? 
 
 L. Frug. He was a vanity 
 I must no more remember. 
 
 L. Lacy. Excellent ! 
 You, your kind father? 
 
 Anne. Such an uncle never 
 Was read of in story ! 
 
 L. Lacy. Not one word in answer 
 Of my demands ? 
 
 Mary. You are but a lord ; and know, 
 My thoughts soar higher. 
 
 L. Lacy. Admirable ! I'll leave you 
 To your castles in the air. When I relate 
 
 this, 
 
 It will exceed belief; but he must know it. 
 \Aside, and exit. 
 
 Star. Now I may boldly speak. May it [ 
 
 please you, madam, 
 
 To look upon your vassal ; I foresaw this, 
 The stars assured it. 
 
 L. Frug. I begin to feel 
 Myself another woman. 
 
 Star. Now you shall find 
 All my predictions true, and nobler matches 
 Prepared for my young ladies. 
 
 Mill. Princely husbands. 
 
 Anne. I'll go no less. 
 
 Mary. Not a word more ; 
 Provide my night-rail. 
 
 Mill. What shall we be to morrow ! 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE III. Another Room in the same. 
 Enter Luke. 
 
 Luke. 'Twas no fantastic object, but a 
 truth, 
 
 I A real truth ; nor dream : I did not slumber, 
 And could wake ever with a brooding eye 
 To gaze upbn't ! it did endure the touch ; 
 I saw and felt it ! Yet what I beheld 
 And handled oft, did so transcend belief, 
 (My wonder and astonishment pass'd o'er,) 
 I faintly could give credit to my senses. 
 Thou dumb magician, \Takingout a key.~\ 
 
 that without a charm 
 Didst make my entrance easy, to possess 
 What wise men wish, and toil for ! Hermes' 
 
 moly, 
 
 Sibylla's golden bough, the great elixir, 
 Imagined only by the alchemist, 
 
 Compared with thee are shadows, thou. 
 
 the substance, 
 
 And guardian of felicity ! No marvel, 
 My brother made thy place of rest his bosom, 
 Thou being the keeper of his heart, a 
 
 mistress 
 
 To be hugg'd ever ! In by-corners of 
 This sacred room, silver in bags, heap'd up 
 Like billets saw'd and ready for the fire, 
 Unworthy to hold fellowship with bright 
 
 gold 
 
 That flow'd about the room, conceal'd itself. 
 There needs no artificial light ; the splen- 
 dour 
 Makes a perpetual day there, night and 
 
 darkness 
 
 By that still-burning lamp for ever banish'd ! 
 But when, guided by that, my eyes had made 
 Discovery of the caskets, and they open'd, 
 Each sparkling diamond, from itself, shot 
 
 forth 
 
 A pyramid of flames, and, in the roof, 
 Fix'd it a glorious star, and made the place 
 Heaven's abstract, or epitome ! rubies, 
 
 sapphires, 
 And ropes of orient pearl, these seen, I 
 
 could not 
 But look on with contempt. And yet I 
 
 found, 
 
 What weak credulity could have no faith in,. 
 A treasure far exceeding these : here lay 
 A manor bound fast in a skin of parchment, 
 The wax continuing hard, the acres melting \. 
 Here a sure deed of gift for a market-town, 
 If not redeem'd this day, which is not in 
 The unthrift's power : there being scarce one 
 
 shire 
 In Wales or England, where my monies are 
 
 not 
 
 Lent out at usury, the certain hook 
 To draw in more. I am sublimed ! gross 
 
 earth 
 Supports me not ; I walk on air ! Who's 
 
 there? 
 
 Enter Lord Lacy, with Sir John Frugal, 
 Sir Maurice Lacy, and Plenty, painted 
 and disguised as Indians. 
 
 Thieves ! raise the street ! thieves ! 
 
 L. Lacy. What strange passion's this ! 
 Have you your eyes ? do you know me ? 
 
 Luke. You, my lord, 
 
 I do : but this retinue, in these shapes too, 
 May well excuse my fears. When 'tis your 
 
 pleasure 
 
 That I should wait upon you, give me leave 
 To do it at your own house, for I must tell 
 you, 
 
442 
 
 THE CITY MADAM. 
 
 Things as they now are with me well con- 
 
 sider'd, 
 I do not like such visitants. 
 
 L. Lacy. Yesterday, 
 When you had nothing, praise your poverty 
 
 fof't, 
 
 You could have sung secure before a thief ; \ 
 But now you are grown rich, doubts and ] To 
 
 suspicions, 
 And needless fears, possess you. Thank a 
 
 good brother ; 
 But let not this exalt you. 
 Luke. A good brother ! 
 Good in his conscience, I confess, and wise, 
 In giving o'er the world. But his estate, 
 
 Which your lordship may conceive great, no 
 
 way answers 
 The general opinion : alas ! 
 
 Sir Maur. Harrico botikia borne/"'. 
 Luke. Ha ! in this heathen language, 
 
 Ho\\ is it possible our doctors should 
 
 Hold conference with them, or I use the 
 means 
 
 For their conversion ? 
 L. Lacy. That shall be no hindrance 
 your good purposes : they have lived 
 long 
 
 In the English colony, and speak our 
 language 
 
 As their own dialect ; the business does 
 concern you : 
 
 Mine own designs command me hence. Con- 
 tinue, 
 
 As in your poverty you were, a pious 
 
 And honest man. 
 Luke. That is, interpreted, 
 
 \Exit. 
 
 great charge, I am left a poor man A slave and beggar. 
 
 by him. 
 
 L. Lacy. A poor man, say you ? 
 
 Luke. Poor, compared with what 
 Tis thought I do possess. Some little land, 
 Fair household furniture, a few good debts, 
 But empty bags, I find : yet I will be 
 A faithful steward to his wife and daughters ; 
 And, to the utmost of my power, obey 
 His will in all things. 
 
 L. Lacy. I'll not argue with you 
 Of his estate, but bind you to performance 
 Of his last request, which is, for testimony 
 Of his religious charity, that you would 
 Receive these Indians, lately sent him from 
 Virginia, into your house ; and labour, 
 At any rate, 'with the best of your en- 
 deavours, 
 
 Assisted by the aids of our divines, 
 To make them Christians. 
 
 Luke. Call you this, my lord, 
 Religious charity ; to send infidels, 
 Like hungry locusts, to devour the bread 
 Should feed his family? I neither can, 
 Nor will consent to't. 
 
 ^'toCs'-** 
 
 Sir John. You conceive it right ; 
 There being no religion, nor virtue, 
 But in abundance, and no vice but want. 
 All deities serve Plutus. 
 
 Luke. Oracle ! 
 
 Sir John. Temples raised to ourselves in 
 
 the increase 
 Of wealth and reputation, speak a wise 
 
 man ; 
 
 But sacrifice to an imagined Power, 
 Of which we have no sense but in belief, 
 A superstitious fool. 
 
 Luke. True worldly wisdom ! 
 
 Sir John. All knowledge else is folly. 
 
 Sir Maur. Now we are yours,") 
 Be confident your better angel is 1 
 Enter'd your house. j 
 
 Plenty. There being nothing in 
 The compass of your wishes, but shall end 
 In their fruition to the full. 
 
 Sir John. As yet, 
 
 You do not know us ; but when you under- 
 stand 
 The wonders we can do, and what the ends 
 
 L. Lacy. Do not slight it ; 'tis 
 With him a business of such consequence, j That brought us hither, you will entertain 113 
 That should he only hear 'tis not embraced, | With more respect. 
 
 And cheerfully, in this his conscience aiming Luke. There's something whispers to me 
 At the saving of three souls, 'twill draw him j These are no common men. [Aside.'.. My 
 
 house is yours, 
 
 Enjoy it freely : only grant me this, 
 Not to be seen abroad till I have heard 
 More of your sacred principles. Pray enter : 
 
 oer 
 To see it himself accomplish'd. 
 
 Luke. Heaven forbid 
 I should divert him from his holy purpose, 
 To worldly cares again ! I rather will 
 
 Sustain the burthen, and, with the converted, i Than ignorant Americans. 
 Feast the converters, who, I know, will prove Sir John, You shall find it. 
 The greater feeders. 
 
 Sir John. Oh, ha, enewah Chrish bully 
 hika. 
 
 Plentv. Enaula, 
 
 j You are learned Europeans, and we worse 
 
 {Exeunt. 
 
THE CITY MADAM. 
 
 443 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 SCENE I. A Room in Frugal's House, 
 Enter Ding'em, Gettall, and Holdfast. 
 Ding. Not speak with him ! with fear 
 
 survey me better, 
 Thou figure of famine ! 
 
 Gett. Coming, as we do, 
 From his quondam patrons, his dear ingles 
 
 now, 
 
 The brave spark Tradewell 
 Ding. And the man of men 
 In the service of a woman, gallant Goldwire ! 
 
 Enter Luke. 
 
 Hold. I know them for his prentices, 
 
 without 
 
 These flourishes. Here are rude fellows, sir. 
 Ding. Not yours, you rascal ! 
 Hold. No, don pimp ; you may seek them 
 In Bridewell, or the hole ; here are none of 
 
 your comrogues. 
 Ltike. One of them looks as he would cut 
 
 my throat : 
 Your business, friends ? 
 
 Hold. I'll fetch a constable ; 
 Let him answer him in the stocks. 
 
 Ding. Stir, an thou dar'st : 
 Fright me with Bridewell and the stocks ! 
 
 they are fleabitings 
 I am familiar with. [Draws. 
 
 Luke. Pray you put up : 
 And, sirrah, hold your peace. 
 
 [To Holdfast. 
 Ding. Thy word's a law, 
 And I obey. Live, scrape-shoe, and be 
 
 thankful. 
 
 Thou man of muck and money, for as such 
 I now salute thee, tfer? suburbian gamesters 
 Have heard thy fortunes, and I am, in person, 
 Sent to congratulate. 
 
 Gett. The news hath reach'd 
 The ordinaries, and all the gamesters are 
 Ambitious to shake the golden golls 
 Of worshipful master Luke. I come from 
 
 Tradewell, 
 Your fine facetious factor. 
 
 Ding. I from Goldwire : 
 He and his Helen have prepared a banquet, 
 With the appurtenances, to entertain thee ; 
 For, I must whisper in thine ear, thou art 
 To be her Paris : but bring money with 
 
 thee, 
 To quit old scores. 
 
 Gett. Blind chance hath frown'd upon 
 Brave Tradewell: he's blown up, but not 
 
 without 
 Hope of recovery, so you supply him 
 
 With a good round sum. In my house, I can 
 
 assure you, 
 
 There's half a million stirring. 
 Luke. What hath he lost ? 
 Gett. Three hundred. 
 Luke. A trifle. 
 
 Gett. Make it up a thousand, 
 And I will fit him with such tools as shall 
 Bring in a myriad. 
 
 Luke. They know me well, 
 Nor need you use such circumstances for 
 
 them : 
 What's mine, is theirs. They are my friends, 
 
 not servants, 
 .But in their care to enrich me ; and these 
 
 courses, 
 The speeding means. Your name, I pray 
 
 you? 
 
 Gett. Gettall. 
 
 I have been many years an ordinary-keeper, 
 My box my poor revenue. 
 
 Luke. Your name suits well 
 With your profession. Bid him bear up ; he 
 
 shall not 
 
 Sit long on Penniless-Bench. 
 Gett. There spake an angel ! 
 Luke. You know mistress Shave'em ? 
 Gett. The pontifical punk ? 
 Ltike. The same. Let him meet me there 
 
 some two hours hence : 
 And tell Tom Goldwire I will then be with 
 
 him, 
 Furnish 'd beyond his hopes ; and let your 
 
 mistress 
 Appear in her best trim. 
 
 Ding. She will make thee young, 
 Old ^Eson : she is ever furnish 'd with 
 Medea's drugs, restoratives. I fly 
 To keep them sober till thy worship come ; 
 They will be drunk with joy else. 
 Gett. I'll run with you. 
 
 [Exeunt Ding'em and Gettall. 
 Hold. You will not do as you say, I hope? 
 Luke. Enquire not ; 
 
 I shall do what becomes me. {Knocking 
 within .] To the door. 
 
 [Exit Holdfast. 
 New visitants ! 
 
 Re-enter Holdfast. 
 
 What are they ? 
 Hold. A whole batch, sir, 
 Almost of the same leaven : your needy 
 
 debtors, 
 Penury, Fortune, Hoyst. 
 
 Luke. They come to gratulate 
 The fortune fallen upon me. 
 
 Hold. Rather, sir, 
 Like the others, to prey on you. 
 
THE CITY MADAM. 
 
 Luke. I am simple ; they 
 
 Know my good nature: but let them in, 
 
 however. 
 
 Hold. All will come to ruin ! I see beg- 
 gary 
 
 Already knocking at the door. You may 
 enter \Speaking to those -without. 
 
 But use a conscience, and do not work upon 
 
 A tender-hearted gentleman too much ; 
 
 'Twill shew like charity in you. 
 
 Enter Fortune, Penury, and Hoyst. 
 
 Luke. Welcome, friends : 
 I know your hearts and wishes ; you are 
 
 glad 
 You have changed your creditor. 
 
 Pen. I weep for joy, 
 To look upon his worship's face. 
 
 For. His worship's ! 
 
 I see lord mayor written on his forehead ; 
 The cap of maintenance, and city sword, 
 Borne up in state before him. 
 
 Hoyst. Hospitals, 
 And a third Burse, erected by his honour. 
 
 Pen. The city poet on the pageant day 
 Preferring him before Gresham. 
 
 Hoyst. All the conduits 
 Spouting canary sack. 
 
 For. Not a prisoner left, 
 Under ten pounds. 
 
 Pen. We, his poor beadsmen, feasting 
 Our neighbours on his bounty. 
 
 Luke. May I make good 
 Your prophecies, gentle friends, as I'll en- 
 deavour, 
 To the utmost of my power ! 
 
 Hold. Yes, for one year, 
 And break the next. 
 
 Luke. You are ever prating, sirrah. 
 Your present business, friends ? 
 
 For. Were your brother present, 
 Mine had been of some consequence ; but 
 
 now 
 The power lies in your worship's hand, 'tis 
 
 little, 
 
 And will, I know, as soon as ask'd, be 
 granted. 
 
 Luke. 'Tis very probable. 
 
 For. The kind forbearance 
 Of my great debt, by your means, Heaven 
 
 be prais'd for't ! 
 Hath raised my sunk estate. I have two 
 
 ships, 
 Which I long since gave for lost, above my 
 
 hopes 
 Return'd from Barbary, and richly freighted. 
 
 Luke. Where are they ? 
 
 For. Near Gravesend. 
 
 Luke. I am truly glad of it. 
 
 For. I find your worship's charity, and 
 
 dare swear so. 
 
 Now may I have your license, as I know 
 With willingness I shall, to make the best 
 Of the commodities, though you have exe- 
 cution, 
 And after judgment, against all that's 
 
 mine, 
 
 As my poor body, I shall be enabled 
 To make payment of my debts to all the 
 
 world, 
 And leave myself a competence. 
 
 Luke. You much wrong me, 
 If you only doubt it. Yours, master Hoyst ? 
 Hoyst. 'Tis the surrendering back the 
 
 mortgage of 
 My lands, and on good terms, but three 
 
 days' patience ; 
 By an uncle's death I have means left to 
 
 redeem it, 
 And cancel all the forfeited bonds I seal'd 
 
 to, 
 
 In my riots, to the merchant ; for I am 
 Resolv'd to leave off play, and turn good 
 
 husband. 
 Luke. A good intent, and to be cherish'd 
 
 in you. 
 Yours, Penury? 
 
 Pen. My state stands as it did, sir ; 
 What I owed I owe, but can pay nothing to 
 
 you. 
 Yet, if you please to trust me with ten pounds 
 
 more, 
 
 I can buy a commodity of a sailor, 
 Will make me a freeman. There, sir, is his 
 
 name; 
 And the parcels I am to deal for. 
 
 [Gives him a paper. 
 Luke. You are all so reasonable 
 In your demands, that I must freely grant 
 
 them. 
 Some three hours hence meet me on the 
 
 exchange, 
 
 You shall be amply satisfied. 
 Pen. Heaven preserve you ! 
 For. Happy were London, if, within her 
 
 walls, 
 She had many such rich men ! 
 
 Luke. No more ; now leave me : 
 I am full of various thoughts. \Exeunt 
 Fortune, Hoyst, and Penury.] Be 
 careful, Holdfast; 
 I have much to do. 
 
 Hold. And I something to say, 
 Would you give me hearing. 
 Luke. At my better leisure. 
 Till my return look well unto the Indians ; 
 In the mean time, do you as this directs you. 
 [Gives him a paper. Exeunt. 
 
THE CITY MADAM. 
 
 445 
 
 SCENE II. A Room in Shave'em's 
 
 House. 
 
 Enter Goldwire junior, Tradewell junior, 
 Shave'em, Secret, Gettall, and Ding'em. 
 Gold. All that is mine is theirs. Those 
 
 were his words ? 
 Ding. I am authentical. 
 Trade. And that I should not 
 Sit long on Penniless-Bench ? 
 Gett. But suddenly start up 
 A gamester at the height, and cry At all! 
 Shave. And did he seem to have an in- 
 clination 
 To toy with me? 
 
 Ding. He wish'd you would put on 
 Your best habiliments, for he resolv'd 
 To make a jovial day on't. 
 
 Gold. Hug him close, wench, 
 And thou mayst eat gold and amber. I well 
 
 know him 
 
 For a most insatiate drabber : he hath given, 
 Before he spent his own estate, which was 
 Nothing to the huge mass he's now possess'd 
 
 of, 
 j A hundred pound a leap. 
 
 Shave. Hell take my doctor ! 
 i He should have brought me some fresh oil 
 
 of talc ; 
 i These ceruses are common. 
 
 Secret. Troth, sweet lady, 
 The colours are well laid on. 
 Gold. And thick enough : 
 I find that on my lips. 
 
 Shave. Do you so, Jack Sauce ! 
 I'll keep them further off. 
 
 Gold. But be assured first 
 Of a new maintainer, ere you cashier the 
 
 old one. 
 But bind him fast b^/chy sorceries, and thou 
 
 shalt 
 
 Be my revenue ; the whole college study 
 The reparation of thy ruin'd face ; 
 Thou shalt have thy proper and bald-headed 
 
 coachman ; 
 
 Thy tailor and embroiderer shall kneel 
 To'thee, their idol : Cheapside and the Ex- 
 change 
 
 Shall court thy custom, and thou shalt forget 
 There e'er was a St. Martin's : thy procurer 
 Shall be sheath'd in velvet, and a reverend 
 
 veil 
 Pass her for a grave matron. Have an eye to 
 
 the door, 
 
 And let loud music, when this monarch enters, 
 Proclaim his entertainment. 
 Ding. That's my office. 
 
 [Flourish of cornels within. 
 The consort's ready. 
 
 Enter Luke. 
 
 Trade. And the god of pleasure, 
 Master Luke, our Comus, enters. 
 
 Gold. Set your face in order, 
 I will prepare him. Live I to see this day, 
 And to acknowledge you my royal master ? 
 Trade. Let the iron chests fly open, and 
 
 the gold, 
 
 Rusty for want of use, appear again ! 
 Gett. Make my ordinary flourish ! 
 Shave. Welcome, sir, 
 To your own palace ! [ The music plays. 
 
 Gold. Kiss your Cleopatra, 
 And shew yourself, in your magnificent 
 
 bounties, 
 A second Antony ! 
 
 Ding. All the nine worthies ! 
 Secret. Variety of pleasures waitupon you, 
 And a strong back ! 
 Luke. Give me leave to breathe, I pray 
 
 you. 
 
 I am astonish'd ! all this preparation 
 For me? and this choice modest beauty 
 
 wrought 
 
 To feed my appetite ? 
 All. We are all your creatures. 
 Luke. A house well furnish' d ! 
 Gold. At your own cost, sir, 
 Glad I the instrument. I prophesied 
 You should possess what now you do, and 
 
 therefore 
 Prepared it for your pleasure. There's no 
 
 rag 
 
 This Venus wears, but, on my knowledge, was 
 Derived from your brother's cash : the lease 
 
 of the house, 
 
 And furniture, cost near a thousand, sir. 
 Shave. But now you are master both of it 
 
 and me, 
 
 I hope you'll build elsewhere. 
 Luke. And see you placed, 
 Fair one, to your desert. As I live, friend 
 
 Tradewell, 
 I hardly knew you, your clothes so well 
 
 become you. 
 
 What is your loss? speak truth. 
 Trade. Three hundred, sir. 
 Gett. But, on a new supply, he shall re- 
 cover 
 The sum told twenty times o'er. 
 
 Shave. There's a banquet, 
 And after that a soft couch, that attends you. 
 Luke, I couple not in the daylight. Ex- 
 pectation 
 Heightens the pleasure of the night, my 
 
 sweet one ! 
 
 Your music's harsh, discharge it ; I have 
 provided 
 
THE CITY MADAM. 
 
 A better consort, and you shall frolic it 
 
 In another place. \The music ceases. 
 
 Gold. But have you brought gold, and 
 store, sir? 
 
 Trade. 1 long to Ware the caster! 
 
 Gold. I to appear 
 In a fresh habit. 
 
 Shave. My mercer and my silkman 
 Waited me, two hours since' 
 
 Luke. I am no porter, 
 To carry so much gold as will supply 
 Your vast desires, but I have ta'en order for 
 you ; 
 
 Enter Sheriff, Marshal, and Officers. 
 
 You shall have what is fitting, and they 
 
 come here 
 Will see it perform'd. Do your offices : you 
 
 have 
 
 My lord chief-justice's warrant for't. 
 Sher. Seize them all, 
 Shave. The city marshal ! 
 Gold. And the sheriff ! I know him. 
 Secret. We are betray 'd. 
 Ding. Undone. 
 Gett. Dear master Luke. 
 Gold. You cannot be so cruel ; your per- 
 suasion 
 
 Chid us into these courses, oft repeating, 
 Shew yourselves city-sparks, and hang up 
 
 money I 
 Luke. True ; when it was my brother's, I 
 
 contemn'd it ; 
 
 But now it is mine own, the case is alter'd. 
 Trade. Will you prove yourself a devil? 
 
 tempt us to mischief, 
 And then discover it ? 
 
 Luke. Argue that hereafter : 
 In the mean time, master Goldwire, you 
 
 that made 
 Your ten-pound suppers ; kept your punks 
 
 at livery 
 In Brentford, Staines, and Barnet, and this, 
 
 in London ; 
 
 Held correspondence with your fellow- 
 cashiers, 
 Ka me, ka thee ! and knew, in your ac- 
 
 compts, 
 
 To cheat my brother ; if you can, evade me. 
 If there be law in London, your father's 
 
 bonds 
 Shall answer for what you are out. 
 
 Gold. You often told us 
 It was a bugbear. 
 
 Luke. Such a one as shall fright them 
 Out of their estates, to make me satisfaction 
 To the utmost scruple. And for you, madam, 
 My Cleopatra, by your own confession, 
 
 Your house, and all your moveables, are 
 
 mine ; 
 Nor shall you nor your matron need to 
 
 trouble 
 
 Your mercer, or your siikman ; a blue gown, 
 And a whip to boot, as I will handle it, 
 Will serve the turn in Bridewell ; and these 
 
 soft hands, 
 When they are inured to beating hemp, be 
 
 scour'd 
 In your penitent tears, and quite forget their 
 
 powders 
 And bitter almonds. 
 
 Shave. Secret. Ding. Will you show no 
 
 mercy ? 
 
 Luke. I am inexorable. 
 Gett. I'll make bold 
 To take my leave ; the gamesters stay my 
 
 coming. 
 Luke. We must not part so, gentle master 
 
 Gettall. 
 Your box, your certain income, must pay 
 
 back 
 
 Three hundred, as I take it, or you lie by it. 
 There's half a million stirring in your 
 
 house, 
 This a poor trifle. Master shrieve and 
 
 master marshal, 
 On your perils, do your offices. 
 Gold. Dost thou cry now 
 
 [TbTradewell. 
 
 Like a maudlin gamester after loss? I'll suffer 
 Like a Roman, and now, in my misery, 
 In scorn of all thy wealth, to thy teeth tell 
 
 thee 
 Thou wort my pander. 
 
 Luke. Shall I hear this from 
 My prentice ? 
 Mar. Stop his mouth. 
 Sher. Away with them. 
 
 [Exeunt Sheriff, Marshal, and Officers, 
 with Gold. Trade. Shave. Secret. Gett. 
 and Ding. 
 Luke. A prosperous omen in my entrance 
 
 to 
 
 My alter'd nature ! these house thieves re- 
 moved, 
 And what was lost, beyond my hopes, re- 
 
 cover'd, 
 
 Will add unto my heap ; increase of wealth 
 Is the rich man's ambition, and mine 
 Shall know no bounds. The valiant Macedon 
 Having in his conceit subdued one world, 
 Lamented that there were no more to con- 
 quer : 
 
 In my way, he shall be my great example. 
 And when my private house, in cramm'd 
 
 abundance, 
 Shall prove the chamber of the city poor, 
 
THE CITY MADAM. 
 
 447 
 
 And Genoa's bankers shall look pale with 
 
 envy 
 
 When I am mentioned, I shall grieve there is 
 No more to be exhausted in one kingdom. 
 Religion, conscience, charity, farewell ! 
 To me you are words only, and no more ; 
 All human happiness consists in store. 
 
 {Exit. 
 SCENE III. A Street. 
 
 Enter Serjeants with Fortune, Hoyst, and 
 Penury. 
 
 For. At master Luke's suit ! the action 
 
 twenty thousand ! 
 i Serj. With two or three executions, 
 
 which shall grind you 
 
 To powder, when we have you in the counter. 
 For. Thou dost belie him, varlet ! he, 
 
 good gentleman, 
 Will weep when he hears how we are used. 
 
 1 Serj. Yes, millstones. 
 
 Pen. He promised to lend me ten pound 
 
 for a bargain, 
 He will not do it this way. 
 
 2 Serj. I have warrant 
 
 For what I have done. You are a poor fellow, 
 And there being little to be got by you, 
 In charity, as I am an officer, 
 I would not have seen you, but upon com- 
 pulsion, 
 
 And for mine own security. 
 . 3 Serj. You are a gallant, 
 And I'll do you a courtesy, provided 
 That you have money : for a piece an hour, 
 I'll keep you in the house till you send for 
 bail. 
 
 2 Serj. In the mean time, yeoman, run 
 to the other counter, 
 
 And search if there be aught else out against 
 him. 
 
 3 Serj. That done, haste to his creditors : 
 he's a prize, 
 
 And as we are city pirates by our oaths, 
 We must make the best on't. 
 
 Hoyst. Do your worst, I care not. 
 I'll be removed to the Fleet, and drink and 
 
 drab there 
 
 In spite of your teeth. I now repent I ever 
 Intended to be honest. 
 
 Enter Luke. 
 3 Serj. Here he comes 
 You had best tell so. 
 
 For. W r orshipful sir, 
 
 You come in time to free us from these ban- 
 dogs. 
 I know you gave no way to't* 
 
 Pen. Or if you did, 
 'Twas but to try our patience. 
 
 Hoyst. I must tell you 
 I do not like such trials. 
 
 Luke. Are you Serjeants, 
 Acquainted with the danger of a rescue, 
 Yet stand here prating in the street? the 
 
 counter 
 
 Is a safer place to parley in. 
 For. Are you in earnest ? 
 Luke. Yes, faith ; I will be satisfied to a 
 
 token, 
 Or, build upon't, you rot there. 
 
 For. Can a gentleman 
 Of your soft and silken temper, speak such 
 
 language ? 
 
 Pen. So honest, so religious ? 
 Hoyst. That preach'd 
 So much of charity for us to your brother ? 
 Luke. Yes, when I was in poverty it 
 
 shew'd well ; 
 
 But I inherit with his state, his mind, 
 And rougher nature. I grant then, I talk'd, 
 For some ends to myself conceal'd, of pity, 
 The poor man's orisons, and such like no- 
 things : 
 But what I thought you all shall feel, and 
 
 with rigour ; 
 Kind master Luke says it. Who pays for 
 
 your attendance ? 
 Do you wait gratis ? 
 For. Hear us speak. 
 Luke. While I, 
 Like the adder, stop mine ears : or did I 
 
 listen, 
 Though you spake with the tongues of 
 
 angels to me, 
 I am not to be alter'd. 
 
 For. Let me make the best 
 Of my ships, and their freight. 
 Pen. Lend me the ten pounds you pro- 
 mised. 
 Hoyst. A day or two's patience to redeem 
 
 my mortgage, 
 And you shall be satisfied. 
 For. To the utmost farthing. 
 Luke. I'll shew some mercy ; which is, 
 
 that I will not 
 Torture you with false hopes, but make you 
 
 know 
 What you shall trust to. Your ships to my 
 
 use 
 
 Are seized on. I have got into my hands 
 Your bargain from the sailor, 'twas a good onef 
 For such a petty sum. I will likewise take 
 The extremity of your mortgage, and the 
 
 forfeit 
 
 Of your several bonds ; the use and principal 
 Shall not serve. Think of the basket, 
 
 wretches, 
 And a coal-sack for a winding-sheet. 
 
448 
 
 THE CITY MADAM. 
 
 For. Broker! 
 
 Hoyst. Jew ! 
 
 For. Imposter ! 
 
 Hoyst. Cut-throat ! 
 
 For. Hypocrite ! 
 
 Luke. Do, rail on ; 
 
 Move mountains with your breath, it shakes 
 not me. 
 
 Pen. On my knees I beg compassion. My 
 
 wife and children 
 Shall hourly pray for your worship. 
 
 For. Mine betake thee 
 To the devil, thy tutor. 
 
 Pen. Look upon my tears. 
 
 Hoyst. My rage. 
 
 For. My wrongs. 
 
 Luke. They are all alike to me ; 
 Entreaties, curses, prayers, or imprecations. 
 Do your duties, Serjeants ; I am elsewhere 
 look'd for. [Exit. 
 
 3 Serf. This your kind creditor ! 
 
 2 Serf. A vast villain, rather. 
 
 Pen. See, see, the Serjeants pity us ! yet 
 he's marble. 
 
 Hoyst. Buried alive ! 
 
 For. There's no means to avoid it. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE IV. A Room in Sir John Frugal's 
 
 House. 
 
 Enter Holdfast, Stargaze, and Milliscent. 
 Star. Not wait upon my lady? 
 Hold. Nor come at her ; 
 You find it not in your almanack. 
 
 Mill. Nor I have license 
 To bring her breakfast ? 
 
 Hold. My new master hath 
 Decreed this for a fasting-day. She hath 
 
 feasted long, 
 
 And, after a carnival, Lent ever follows. 
 Mill. Give me the key of her wardrobe. 
 
 You'll repent this ; 
 I must know what gown she'll wear. 
 
 Hold. You are mistaken, 
 Dame president of the sweetmeats ; she and 
 
 her daughters 
 Are turn'd 
 
 L. Frug. \within,~\ Stargaze ! Milliscent : 
 
 Mill. My lady's voice. 
 
 Hold. Stir not, you are confined here. 
 Your ladyship may approach them, if you 
 
 please ; 
 But they are bound in this circle. \A loud. 
 
 L. Frug. \withinJ\ Mine own bees 
 Rebel against me ! When my kind brother 
 
 knows this, 
 I will be so revenged ! 
 
 Hold. The world's well alter'd. 
 He's your kind brother now ; but yesterday 
 Your slave and jesting-stock. 
 
 Enter Lady Frugal, Anne, and Mary, in 
 coarse habits, weeping. 
 
 Mill. What witch hath transformed you? 
 Star. Is this the glorious shape your 
 
 cheating brother 
 Promised you should appear in ? 
 
 Mill. My young ladies 
 In buffin gowns, and green aprons ! tear 
 
 them off; 
 Rather shew all than be seen thus. 
 
 Hold. 'Tis more comely, 
 I wis, than their other whim-whams. 
 
 Mill. A French hood too, 
 Now, tis out of fashion ! a fool's cap would ! 
 
 show better. 
 
 L. Frug. We are fool'd indeed ! by whose 
 command are we used thus ? 
 
 Enter Luke. 
 
 Hold. Here he comes can best resolve you. 
 L. Frug. O, good brother ! 
 Do you thus preserve your protestation to 
 
 me? 
 
 Can queens envy this habit ? or did Juno 
 E'er feast in such a shape ? 
 
 Anne. You talk'd of Hebe, 
 Of Iris, and I know not what ; but were 
 
 they 
 Dress'd as we are? they were sure some 
 
 chandler's daughters 
 i Bleaching linen in Moorfields. 
 
 'd philosophers, and must carry all I Mary. Or Exchange wenches, 
 Their wealth about them ; they have clothes Coming from eating pudding-pies on 
 
 laid in their chamber, Sunday, 
 
 If they pleas ; to put them on, and without j At Pimlico, or Islington. 
 
 help too, Luke. Save you, sister ! 
 
 Or they may walk naked. You look, master j I now dare style you so : you were before 
 
 Stargaze, Too glorious to be look'd on, now you appear 
 
 .As you had seen a strange comet, and had i Like a city matron ; and my pretty nieces 
 
 now foretold, 
 The end of the world, and on what day : 
 
 and you, 
 
 As the wasps had broke into the gallipots, 
 And eaten up your apricots. 
 
 Such things as were born and bred there. 
 
 Why should you ape 
 The fashions of court-ladies, whose high 
 
 titles, 
 And pedigrees of long descent, give warrant 
 
THE CITY MADAM. 
 
 449 
 
 i r or their superfluous bravery? 'twas mon- 
 strous : 
 
 Till now you ne'er look'd lovely. 
 L. Frug. Is this spoken 
 
 In scorn ! 
 
 Luke. Fie ? no ; with judgment. I make 
 good 
 
 My promise, and now shew you like your- 
 selves, 
 
 In your own natural shapes ; and stand 
 resolved 
 
 You shall continue so. 
 /,. Frng. It is confess'd, sir. 
 I.iikc. Sir ! sirrah : use your old phrase, I 
 
 can bear it. 
 
 L. Frug. That, if you please, forgotten, 
 we acknowledge 
 
 We have deserv'd ill from you ; yet despair 
 not, 
 
 Though we are at your disposure, you'll 
 maintain us 
 
 Like your brother's wife and daughters. 
 Luke. 'Tis my purpose. 
 L. Frug. And not make us ridiculous. 
 Luke. Admired rather, 
 
 As fair examples for our proud city dames, 
 
 And their proud brood to imitate. Do not 
 frown ; 
 
 If you do, I laugh, and glory that I have 
 
 The power, in you, to scourge a general vice, 
 
 And raise up a new satirist : but hear gently, 
 
 And in a gentle phrase I'll reprehend 
 
 Your late disguised deformity, and cry up 
 
 This decency and neatness, with the advan- 
 tage 
 
 You shall receive by't. 
 
 L. Frug. We are bound to hear you. 
 Luke. With a soul inclined to learn. Your 
 father was 
 
 An honest country farmer, goodman 
 Humble, 
 
 By his neighbours ne'er call'd Master. Did 
 your pride 
 
 Descend from him ? but let that pass : your 
 fortune, 
 
 Or rather your husband's industry, advanced 
 you 
 
 To the rank of a merchant's wife. He made 
 a knight, 
 
 And your sweet mistress-ship ladyfied, you 
 wore 
 
 Satin on solemn days, a chain of gold, 
 
 A velvet hood, rich borders, and sometimes 
 
 A dainty miniver cap, a silver pin, 
 
 Headed with a pearl worth three-pence, and 
 thus far 
 
 You were privileged, and no man envied it ; 
 
 It being for the city's honour that 
 
 There should be a distinction between 
 
 The wife of a patrician, and plebeian. 
 Mill. Pray you, leave preaching, or choose 
 
 some other text ; 
 
 Your rhetoric is too moving, for it makes 
 Your auditory weep. 
 
 Luke. Peace, chattering magpie ! 
 I'll treat of you anon : but when the height 
 And dignity of London's blessings grew 
 Contemptible, and the name lady-mayoress 
 Became a by-word, and you scorn'd thfe 
 
 means 
 By which you were raised, my brother's fond 
 
 indulgence, 
 Giving the reins to it ; and no object pleased 
 
 you 
 But the glittering pomp and bravery of the 
 
 court ; 
 
 What a strange, nay monstrous, metamor- 
 phosis follow'd ! 
 No English workman then could please your 
 
 fancy, 
 The French and Tuscan dress your whole 
 
 discourse ; 
 
 This bawd to prodigality, entertain'd 
 To buzz into your ears what shape this 
 
 countess 
 
 Appear'd in the last masque, and how it drew 
 The young lord's eyes upon her ; and this- 
 
 usher 
 Succeeded in the eldest prentice' place, 
 
 To walk before you 
 
 L. Frng. Pray you, end. 
 Hold. Proceed, sir ; 
 I could fast almost a prenticeship to hear 
 
 you, 
 You 'touch them so to the quick. 
 
 Luke. Then, as I said, 
 The reverend hood cast off, your borrow'd 
 
 hair, 
 Powder 'd and curl'd, was by your dresser's 
 
 art 
 
 Form'd like a coronet, hang'd with dia- 
 monds, 
 
 And the richest orient pearl ; your carcanets 
 That did adorn your neck, of equal value : 
 Your Hungerland bands, and Spanish quellio 
 
 ruffs ; 
 
 Great lords and ladies feasted to survey 
 Embroider'd petticoats ; and sickness feign 'd, 
 That your night rails of forty pounds a piece 
 Might be seen, with envy, of the visitants ; 
 Rich pantofles in ostentation shewn, 
 And roses w r orth a family : you were served 
 
 in plate, 
 Stirr'd not a foot without your coach, and 
 
 going 
 
 To church, not for devotion, but to shew 
 Your pomp, you were tickled when the 
 
 beggars cried, 
 
 GG 
 
450 
 
 THE CITY MADAM. 
 
 Heaven save your honour ! this idolatry 
 Paid to a painted room. 
 
 Hold. Nay, you have reason 
 To blubber, all of you. 
 
 Luke. And when you lay 
 In childbed, at the christening of this minx, 
 I well remember it, as you had been 
 An absolute princess, since they have no 
 
 more, 
 Three several chambers hung, the first with 
 
 arras, 
 And that for waiters ; the second crimson 
 
 satin, 
 For the meaner sort of guests ; the third of 
 
 scarlet 
 
 Of the rich Tyrian die ; a canopy 
 To cover the brat's cradle ; you in state, 
 Like Pompey's Julia. 
 L. Fru$. No more, I pray you. 
 Luke. Of this, be sure, you shall not. I'll 
 
 cut off 
 
 ^Whatever is exorbitant in you, 
 Or in [your] daughters, and reduce you to 
 Your natural forms and habits ; not in re- 
 venge 
 
 Of your base usage of me, but to fright 
 Others by your example : 'tis decreed 
 You shall serve one another, for I will 
 Allow no waiter to you. Out of doors 
 With these useless drones ! 
 Hold. Will you pack? 
 Mill. Not till I have 
 My trunks along with me. 
 
 Luke. Not a rag ; you came 
 Hither without a box. 
 
 Star. You'll shew to me, 
 I hope, sir, more compassion. 
 
 Hold. Troth I'll be 
 
 Thus far a suitor for him : he hath printed 
 'An almanack, for this year, at his own 
 . 'charge ; 
 Let him have the impression with him, to 
 
 set up with. 
 
 Luke. For once I'll be entreated ; let it be 
 Thrown to him out of the window. 
 
 Star. O cursed stars 
 That reign'd at my nativity ! how have you 
 
 cheated 
 Your poor observer ! 
 
 Anne. Must we part in tears ? 
 Maty. Farewell, good Milliscent ! 
 L. Frug. I am sick, and meet with 
 A rough physician. O my pride and scorn ! 
 How justly am I punish 'd ! 
 
 Mary. Now we sufter 
 For our stubbornness and disobedience 
 To our good father. 
 
 Anne. And the base conditions 
 We imposed upon our suitors. 
 
 Luke. Get you in, 
 And caterwaul in a corner. 
 
 L. Fru%. There's no contending. 
 
 [Lady Frugal, Anne, and Mary, go 
 off at one door, Stargaze and 
 Milliscent at the other. 
 Luke. How 
 Lik'st thou my carriage, Holdfast ? 
 
 Hold. Well in some parts ; 
 But it relishes, I know not how, a little 
 Of too much tyranny. 
 
 Luke. Thou art a fool : 
 He's cruel to himself, that dares not be 
 Severe to those that used him cruelly. 
 
 [E.veunt. 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 SCENE I. A Room in Sir John Frugal's 
 
 House. 
 Enter Luke, Sir John Frugal, Sir Maurice 
 
 Lacy, and Plenty. 
 Luke. You care not then, as it seems, to 
 
 be converted 
 To our religion ? 
 
 Sir John. We know no such word, 
 Nor power but the devil, and him we serve 
 
 for fear, 
 Not love. 
 
 Luke. I am glad that charge is saved. 
 Sir John. We put 
 
 That trick upon your brother, to have means 
 To come to the city. Now, to you, we'll 
 
 discover 
 The close design that brought us, with 
 
 assurance, 
 
 If you lend your aids to furnish us with that 
 Which in the colony was not to be pur- 
 chased, 
 
 No merchant ever made such a return 
 For his most precious venture, as you shall 
 Receive from us ; far, far above your hopes, 
 Or fancy, to imagine. 
 
 Luke. It must be 
 Some strange commodity, and of a dear 
 
 value, 
 
 (Such an opinion is planted in me 
 You will deal fairly,) that I would not 
 
 hazard : 
 Give me the name of it. 
 
 Sir Afaur. I fear you will make 
 Some scruple in your conscience, to grant it. 
 Luke. Conscience ! no, no ; so it may be 
 
 done with safety, 
 And without danger of the law. 
 
 Plenty. For that, 
 
 You shall sleep securely : nor shall it di- 
 minish, 
 
THE CITY MADAM. 
 
 But add unto your heap such an increase. 
 As what you now possess shall appear an 
 
 atom, 
 To the mountain it brings with it. 
 
 Luke. Do not rack me 
 j With expectation. 
 
 Sir John. Thus then in a word : 
 i The devil why start you at his name ? if you 
 Desire to wallow in wealth and worldly 
 
 honours, 
 i You must make haste to be familiar with 
 
 him. 
 I This devil, whose priest I am, and by him 
 
 made 
 
 I A deep magician, (for I can do wonders,) 
 : Appear 'd to me in Virginia, and commanded, 
 With many stripes, for that's his cruel 
 
 custom, 
 
 I should provide, on pain of his fierce wrath, 
 Against the next great sacrifice, at which, 
 We, grovelling on our faces, fall before him, 
 Two Christian virgins, that, with their pure 
 
 blood, 
 
 Might dye his horrid altars ; and a third, 
 In his hate to such embraces as are lawful, 
 Married, and with your ceremonious rites, 
 As an oblation unto Hecate, 
 And wanton Lust, her favourite. 
 
 Luke. A devilish custom .' 
 And yet why should it startle me? There are 
 Enough of the sex fit for this use ; but 
 
 virgins. 
 
 And such a matron as you speak of, hardly 
 : To be wrought to it. 
 
 Plenty. A mine of gold, for a fee, 
 Waits him that undertakes it and performs it. 
 SirMaur. Know you no distressed widow, 
 
 or poor maids, 
 Whose want of dower, though well born, 
 
 makes them w(?-;ry 
 Of their own country ? 
 
 Sir John. Such as had rather be 
 Miserable in another world, than where 
 They have surfeited in felicity? 
 
 Luke. Give me leave [ Walks aside. 
 
 I would not lose this purchase. A grave 
 
 matron ! 
 And two pure virgins ! Umph ! I think my 
 
 sisier, 
 Though proud, was ever honest ; and my 
 
 nieces, 
 Untainted yet. Why should not they be 
 
 shipp'd 
 For this employment? they are burthensome 
 
 to me, 
 And eat too much ; and if they stay in 
 
 London, 
 
 They will find friends that, to my loss, will 
 force me 
 
 To composition : 'twere a masterpiece, 
 If this could be effected. They were ever 
 Ambitious of title : should I urge, 
 Matching with these they shall live Indian 
 
 queens, 
 
 It may do much : but what shall I feel here, 
 Knowing to what they are design'd ? they 
 
 absent, 
 The thought of them will leave me. It shall 
 
 be so. . {Returns. 
 
 I'll furnish you, and, to endear the service, 
 In mine own family, and my blood too. 
 Sir John. Make this good, and your 
 
 house shall not contain 
 The gold we'll send you. 
 
 Luke. You have seen my sister, 
 And my two nieces? 
 Sir John. Yes, sir. 
 Luke. These persuaded 
 How happily they shall live, and in what 
 
 pomp, 
 
 When they are in your kingdoms, for you 
 must 
 
 Work them a belief that you are kings 
 
 Plenty. We are so. 
 
 Luke. I'll put it in practice instantly. ; 
 
 Study you 
 For moving language. Sister nieces ! 
 
 Enter Lady Frugal, Anne, and Mary. 
 
 How! 
 Still mourning? dry your eyes, and clear , 
 
 these clouds 
 That do obscure your beauties. Did you 
 
 believe 
 
 My personated reprehension, though 
 It shew'd like a rough anger, could be 
 
 serious? 
 
 Forget the fright I put you in : my end, 
 In humbling you, was to set off the height 
 Of honour, principal honour, which .my 
 
 studies, 
 When you least expect it, shall confer upon 
 
 you! 
 
 Still you seem doubtful : be not wanting to j 
 Yourselves, nor let the strangeness of the 
 
 means, 
 
 With the shadow of some danger, render you 
 Incredulous. 
 
 L. Frug. Our usage hath been such, 
 As we can faintly hope that your intents 
 And language are the same. 
 
 Luke. I'll change those hopes 
 To certainties. 
 
 Sir John. With what art he winds about ; 
 
 them ! [Aside. 
 
 Luke. What will you say, or what thanks 
 
 shall I look fcr, 
 If now I raise you to such eminence, as 
 
 G G 2 
 
452 
 
 THE CITY MADAM. 
 
 The wife and daughters of a citizen 
 
 Never arrived at ! many, for their wealth, I 
 
 grant, 
 
 Have written ladies of honour, and some few 
 
 Have higher titles, and that's the furthest rise 
 
 ' You can in England hope for. What think 
 
 you, 
 
 j If I should mark you out a way to live 
 ! Queens in another climate? 
 
 Anne. We desire 
 A competence. 
 
 Mary. And prefer our country's smoke 
 Before outlandish fire. 
 
 L. Frug. But should we listen 
 To such impossibilities, 'tis not in 
 The power of man to make it good. 
 
 Luke. I'll do it: 
 
 Nor is this seat of majesty far removed ; 
 It is but to Virginia. 
 
 L. Frug. How ! Virginia! 
 High heaven forbid ! Remember, sir, I be- 
 seech you, 
 What creatures are shipp'd thither. 
 
 Anne. Condemn'd wretches, 
 ' Forfeited to the law. 
 
 Mary. Strumpets and bawds. 
 1 For the abomination of their life, 
 Spew'd out of their own country. 
 
 Luke. Your false fears 
 Abuse my noble purposes. Such indeed 
 j Are sent as slaves to labour there ; but you, 
 To absolute sovereignty. Observe these men, 
 With reverence observe them : they are 
 
 kings of 
 
 Sucli spacious territories and dominions, 
 As our Great Britain measured will appear 
 A garden to it. 
 
 Sir Maur. You shall be adored there 
 As goddesses. 
 
 Sir John. Your litters made of gold, 
 Supported by your vassals, proud to bear 
 The burthen on their shoulders. 
 
 Plenty. Pomp, and ease, 
 With deli cat es that Europe never knew, 
 . Like pages shall wait on you. 
 
 Luke. If you have minds 
 I To entertain the greatness offer'd to you, 
 With outstretch 'd arms, and willing 'hands, 
 
 embrace it. 
 
 , But this refused, imagine what can make you 
 i Most miserable here ; and rest assured, 
 . In storms it falls upon you : take them in, 
 ; And use your best persuasion. If that fail, 
 I'll send them aboard in a dry fat. 
 
 \Exennt all but Sir John Frugal and 
 
 Luke. 
 
 Sir John. Be not moved, sir ; 
 I We'll work them to your will. Yet, ere \ve 
 part, 
 
 Your worldly cares deferr'd, a little mirth 
 Would not misbecome us. 
 
 Luke. You say well : and now 
 It comes into my memory, 'tis my birthday, 
 Which with solemnity I would observe, 
 But that it would ask cost. 
 
 Sir John. That shall not grieve you. 
 By my art I will prepare you such a feast, 
 As Persia, in her height of pomp and riot. 
 Did never equal ; and such ravishing music 
 As the Italian princes seldom heard 
 At their greatest entertainments. Name 
 your guests. 
 
 Luke. I must have none. 
 
 Sir John. Not the city senate ? 
 
 Luke. No ; 
 Nor yet poor neighbours : the first would 
 
 argue me 
 
 Of foolish ostentation, and tl:e latter 
 I Of too much hospitality ; a virtue 
 Grown obsolete, and useless. I will sit 
 Alone, and surfeit in my store, while others 
 With envy pine at it ; my genius pamper'd 
 With the thought of what I am, and what 
 
 they suffer 
 I have mark'd out to miser)'. 
 
 Sir John. You shall : 
 And something I will add you yet conceive 
 
 not, 
 Nor will I be slow-paced. 
 
 Luke. I have one business. 
 And, that dispatch 'd, I am free. 
 
 Sir John. About it, sir, 
 Leave the rest to me. 
 
 Luke. Till now I ne'er loved magic. 
 
 ^Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE II. Another Room in the same. 
 
 Enter Lord Lacy, Goldwire senior, and 
 Tradewell senior. 
 
 L. Lacy. Believe me, gentlemen, I never 
 
 was 
 
 So cozen'd in a fellow. He disguised 
 Hypocrisy in such a cunning shape 
 Of real goodness, that I would have sworn 
 This devil a saint. M. Goldwire, and M. 
 
 Tradewell, 
 What do you mean to do ? Put on. 
 
 Gold. With your lordship's favour. 
 
 L. Lacy. I'll have it so. 
 
 Trade. Your will, my lord, excuses 
 The rudeness of our manners. 
 
 /-. Lacy. You have received 
 Penitent letters from your sons, I doubt not 
 
 Trade. They are our only sons. 
 
 Gold. And a's we arc fathers, 
 Remembering the errors of our youth, 
 We would pardon slips in them! 
 
THE CITY MADAM. 
 
 453 
 
 Trade. And pay for them 
 In a moderate way. 
 
 Gold. In which we hope your lordship 
 Will be our mediator. 
 
 L. Lacy. All my power 
 
 Enter Luke, richly dressed. 
 
 You freely shall command ; 'tis he ! You 
 
 :;re well met, 
 And to my wish, and wonderous brave ! 
 
 your habit 
 Spea'ks you a merchant royal. 
 
 Luke. What I wear 
 I take not upon trust. 
 
 L. Lacy. Your betters may, 
 And blush not for't. 
 
 Luke. If you have nought else with me 
 But to argue that, I will make bold to leave 
 
 you. 
 L. Lacy. You are very peremptory ; pray 
 
 you stay : 
 I once held you 
 An upright honest man. 
 
 Luke. I am honester now 
 By a hundred thousand pound, I thank my 
 
 stars for't, 
 Upon the Exchange ; and if your late 
 
 opinion 
 
 Be alter'd, who can help it? Good my lord, 
 To the point ; I have other business than to 
 
 talk 
 
 Of honesty, and opinions. 
 L. Lacy. Yet you may 
 Do well, if you please, to shew the one, and 
 
 merit 
 
 The other from good men, in a case that now 
 Is offer 'd to you. 
 
 Luke. What is it? I am troubled. 
 L. Lacy. Here are t\\o gentlemen, the 
 
 fathers of ^ 
 Your brother's prefaces. 
 
 Luke. Mine, my lord, I take it. 
 L. Lacy. Goldwire, and Tradewell. 
 Luke. They are welcome, if 
 They come prepared to satisfy the damage 
 I have sustain 'd by their sons. 
 
 Gold. We are, so you please 
 To use a conscience. 
 
 Trade. Which we hope you will do, 
 For your own worship's sake. 
 
 Luke. Conscience, my friends, 
 And wealth, are not always neighbours. 
 
 Should I part 
 With what the law gives me, I should suffer 
 
 mainly 
 
 In my reputation ; for it would convince me 
 Of indiscretion : nor will you, I hope, move 
 
 me 
 To do myself such prejudice. 
 
 L. Lacy. No moderation ? 
 Luke. They cannot look for't, and pre- 
 serve in me 
 
 A thriving citizen's credit. Your bonds lie 
 For your sons' truth, and they shall answer all 
 They have run out : the masters never pros- 
 
 per'd 
 Since gentlemen's sons grew prentices : 
 
 when we look 
 
 To have our business done at home, they are 
 Abroad in the tennis-court, or in Partridge- 
 alley, 
 
 In Lambeth Marsh, or a cheating ordinary, 
 Where I found your sons. I have your 
 
 bonds, look to't. 
 A thousand pounds apiece, and that will 
 
 hardly 
 Repair my losses. 
 
 L. Lacy. Thou dar'st not shew thyself 
 Such a devil ! 
 
 Luke. Good words. 
 
 /.. Lacy. Such a cut-throat ! I have 
 
 heard of 
 The usage of your brother's wife and j 
 
 daughters ; 
 You shall find you are not lawless, and that 
 
 your monies 
 Cannot justify your villainies. 
 
 Luke. I endure this. 
 And, good my lord, now you talk in time of j 
 
 monies, 
 Pay in what you owe me. And give me 
 
 leave to wonder 
 
 Your wisdom should have leisure to consider 
 The business of these gentlemen, or my 
 
 carriage 
 
 To my sister, or my nieces, being yourself, 
 So much in my danger. 
 L. Lacy. In thy danger? 
 Luke. Mine. 
 
 1 find in my counting-house a manor pawn'd, 
 Pawn'd, my good lord ; Lacy manor, and 
 
 that manor 
 
 From which you have the title of a lord, 
 An it please your good lordship ! You are 
 
 a nobleman ; 
 
 Pray you pay in my monies : the interest 
 Will eat faster in't, than aquafortis in iron. 
 Now though you bear me hard, I love your 
 
 lordship. 
 
 I grant your person to be privileged 
 From all arrests ; yet there lives a foolish 
 
 creature 
 Call'd an under-sheriff, who, being well 
 
 paid, will serve 
 An extent on lords or lowns' land. Pay 
 
 it in : 
 I would be loth your name should sink, or 
 
 that 
 
454 
 
 THE CITY MADAM. 
 
 Your hopeful son, when he returns from 
 travel. 
 
 Should find you rriy lord-without-land. You 
 are angry 
 
 For my good counsel : look you to your 
 bonds ; had I known 
 
 Of your coming, believ't, I would have had 
 Serjeants ready. 
 
 Lord, how you fret ! but that a tavern's 
 near, 
 
 You should taste a cup of muscadine in my 
 house, 
 
 To wash down sorrow ; but there it will do 
 better : 
 
 I know you'll drink a health to me. [Exit. 
 L. Lacy. To thy damnation. 
 
 Was there ever such a villain ! heaven for- 
 give me 
 
 For speaking so unchristianly, though he 
 
 deserves it. 
 
 Gold. We are undone. 
 Trade. Our families quite ruin'd. 
 L. Lacy. Take courage, gentlemen ; com- 
 fort may appear, 
 
 And punishment overtake him, when he 
 least expects it. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE III. Another Room in the same. 
 
 Enter Sir John Frugal and Holdfast. 
 
 Sir John. Be silent, on your life. 
 
 Hold. I am o'erjoy'd. 
 
 Sir John. Are the pictures placed as I 
 directed ? 
 
 Hold. Yes, sir. 
 
 Sir John. And the musicians ready? 
 
 Hold. All is done 
 As you commanded. 
 
 Sir John, [goes to the door.] Make haste ; 
 
 and be careful ; 
 You know your cue, and postures ? 
 
 Plenty, [within. J We are perfect. 
 
 Sir John. 'Tis well. The rest are come, 
 too? 
 
 Hold. And disposed of 
 To your own wish. 
 
 Enter Servants with a rich banquet. 
 
 Sir John. Set forth the table : so ! 
 A perfect banquet. At the upper end, 
 His chair in state : he shall feast like a 
 prince. 
 
 Hold. And rise like a Dutch hangman. 
 
 Enter Luke. 
 
 Sir John. Not a word more 
 
 How like you the preparation ? Fill your 
 
 room, 
 
 And taste the cates ; then in your thought 
 consider 
 
 A rich man, that lives wisely to himself, 
 In his full height of glory. 
 
 Luke. I can brook 
 
 No rival in this happiness. How sweetly 
 These dainties, when unpaid for, please ruy ! 
 
 palate ? 
 Some wine. Jove's nectar ! Brightness to 
 
 the star 
 That govern'd at my birth ! shoot down I 
 
 thy influence, 
 
 And with a perpetuity of being 
 Continue this felicity, not gain'd 
 By vows to saints above, and much less j 
 
 purchased 
 
 By thriving industry ; nor fallen upon me 
 As a reward to piety, and religion, 
 Or service to my country : I owe all 
 This to dissimulation, and the shape 
 I wore of good ness. Let my brother number 
 His beads devoutly, and believe his alms 
 To beggars, his compassion to his debtors, ; 
 Will wing his better part, disrobed of flesh, 
 To soar above the firmament. I am well ; 
 And so I surfeit here in all abundance, 
 Though styled a cormorant, acut-throat, Jew, ; 
 And prosecuted with the fatal curses 
 Of widows, undone orphans, and what else 
 Such as malign my state can load me with, 
 I will not envy it. You promised music. 
 Sir John. And you shall hear the strength 
 
 and power of it, 
 
 The spirit of Orpheus raised to make it good, 
 And, in those ravishing strains, with which 
 
 he moved 
 
 Charon and Cerberus to give him way, 
 To fetch from hell his lost Eurydice. 
 Appear ! swifter than thought ! [Aloud. \ 
 
 Music. Enter at one door, Cerberus, at the \ 
 other, Charon, Orpheus, and Chorus. 
 
 Luke. 'Tis wonderous strange ! 
 
 [They represent the story of Orpheus, 
 
 with dance and gesture. 
 Sir John. Does not the object and the 
 
 accent take you ? 
 Luke. A pretty fable. [Exe. Orph. and 
 
 the rest.~\ But that music should 
 Alter, in fiends, their nature, is to me 
 Impossible ; since, in myself, I find, 
 What I have once decreed shall know no 
 
 change. 
 
 Sir John. You are constant to your pur- 
 poses ; yet I think 
 That I could stagger you. 
 Luke. How? 
 
 Sir John. Should I present 
 Your servants, debtors, and the rest that 
 suffer 
 
THE CITY MADAM. 
 
 455 
 
 By your fit severity, I presume the sight 
 Would move you to compassion. 
 
 Luke. Not a mote. 
 The music that your Orpheus made was 
 
 harsh, 
 
 To the delight I should receive in hearing 
 Their cries and groans : if it be in your 
 
 power, 
 I would now see them. 
 
 Sir John. Spirits, in their shapes, 
 Shall shew them as they are : but if it 
 
 should move you? 
 Luke. If it do, may I ne'er find pity ! 
 
 Sir John. Be your own judge. 
 
 ! Appear ! as I commanded. 
 
 Sad Music. Enter Gold wire junior, and 
 Tradewell junior, as from prison ; For- 
 tune, Hoyst, and Penury ; Serjeants with 
 Tradewell senior, and Goldwire senior ; 
 these foll<nvcd by 'Shxve'zm, in a blue gown, 
 Secret, and Ding' em ; they all kneel to 
 Luke, lifting up their hands. Stargaze 
 is seen, with a pack of almanacks, and 
 Milliscent. 
 
 Luke. Ha, ha, ha ! 
 This move me to compassion, or raise 
 One sign of seeming pity in my face ! 
 You are deceived : it rather renders me 
 More flinty, and obdurate. A south wind 
 Shall sooner soften marble, and the rain 
 That slides down gently from his flaggy 
 
 wings, 
 O'erflow the Alps, than knees, or tears, or 
 
 groans, 
 I Shall wrest compunction from me. 'Tis my 
 
 glory 
 
 That they are wretched, and by me made so 
 It sets my happinessrf<ff : I could not triumph 
 If these were not rny captives. Ha ! my 
 
 tamers, 
 
 As it appears, have seized on these old foxes 
 As I gave order ; new addition to 
 My scene of mirth : ha, ha ! They now 
 
 grow tedious, 
 I Let them be removed. 
 
 [Exeunt Gold, and the rest. 
 
 Some other object, if 
 i Your art can shew it. 
 
 Sir John. You shall perceive 'tis bound- 
 less. 
 
 Yet one thing real, if you please ? 
 Luke. What is it ? 
 Sir John. Your nieces, ere they put to 
 
 se.i, crave humbly, 
 Though absent in their bodies, they may 
 
 take leave 
 Of their late suitors' statues. 
 
 Enter Lady Frugal, Anne, and Mary. 
 Luke. There they hang : 
 n things indifferent, I am tractable. 
 Sir John. There pay your vows, you have ; 
 
 liberty. 
 
 Anne. O sweet figure [kneels.. \ 
 
 Of my abused Lacy ! when removed 
 Into another world, I'll daily pay 
 A sacrifice of sighs to thy remembrance ; 
 And with a shower of tears strive to wash off | 
 The stain of that contempt my foolish pride i 
 And insolence threw upon thee. 
 
 Mary. I had been 
 
 Too happy, if I had enjoyed the substance ;. \ 
 But far unworthy of it, now I fall 
 Thus prostrate to thy statue. [kneels. ! 
 
 L. Frug. My kind husband, [kneels. 
 
 (Bless'd in my misery,) from the monastery 
 To which my disobedience confined thee, 
 With thy soul's eye, which distance cannot 
 
 hinder, 
 
 Look on my penitence. O, that I could 
 Call back time past ! thy holy vow dis- 
 pensed, 
 
 With what humility would I observe 
 My long-neglected duty ! 
 
 Sir John. Does not this move you? 
 Luke. Yes, as they do the statues, and' 
 
 her sorrow 
 
 My absent brother. If, by your magic art, 
 You can give life to these, or bring him hither 
 To witness her repentance, I may have, 
 Perchance, some feeling of it. 
 Sir John. For your sport, 
 You shall see a masterpiece. Here's nothing 
 
 but 
 
 A superficies ; colours, and no substance. 
 Sit still, and to your wonder and amazement, 
 I'll give these organs. This the sacrifice, 
 To make the great work perfect. 
 
 [Burns incense, and makes mystical 
 gesticulations. Sir Maurice Lacy 
 and Plenty give signs of anima- 
 tion. 
 
 Luke. Prodigious ! 
 
 Sir John. Nay, they have life, and mo- 
 tion. Descend ! 
 
 [Sir Maurice Lacy, and Plenty de- 
 scend and come forward. 
 And for your absent brother, this wash'd: 
 
 off, 
 Against your will you shall know him. 
 
 [Discovers himself. 
 
 Enter Lord Lacy, with Goldwire senior 
 and junior, Tradewell senior and junior,, 
 the Debtors, <5r>r. &c. as before. 
 Luke. I am lost. 
 Guilt strikes me dumb. 
 
456 
 
 THE CITY MADAM. 
 
 Sir John. You have seen, my lord, the 
 pageant ? 
 
 L. Lacy. I have, and am ravish'd with it. 
 
 Sir John. What think you now 
 Of this clear soul ? this honest, pious man? 
 Have I stripp'd him bare, or will your lord- 
 ship have 
 
 A further trial of him ? 'Tis not in 
 A wolf to change his nature. 
 
 L. Lacy. I long since 
 Confess'd my error. 
 
 Sir John. Look up ; I forgive you, 
 And seal your pardons thus. 
 
 \Raises and embraces Lady Frugal, 
 Anne, and Mary. 
 
 L. Frug. I am too full 
 Of joy, to speak it. 
 
 Amu. I am another creature ; 
 Not what I was. 
 
 Mary. I vow to shew myself, 
 When I am married, an humble wife, 
 Not a commanding mistress. 
 
 Plenty. On those terms, 
 I gladly thus embrace you. [ To Man'. 
 
 Sir Maur. Welcome to 
 My bosom : as the one half of myself, 
 I'll love and cherish you. [7V? Anne. 
 
 Gold. jun. Mercy ! 
 
 Trade, jun. and the rest. Good sir, mercy ! 
 
 Sir John. This day is sacred to it. All 
 
 shall find me, 
 
 As far as lawful pity can give way to't, 
 Indulgent to your wishes, though with loss 
 Unto myself. My kind and honest brother, 
 Looking into yourself, have you seen the 
 
 Gorgon ? 
 
 What a golden dream you have had, in the 
 possession 
 
 Of my estate ! but here's a revocation 
 
 That wakes you out of it. Monster in 
 nature ! 
 
 Revengeful, avaricious atheist, 
 
 Transcending all example ! but I shall be 
 
 A sharer in thy crimes, should I repeat 
 them 
 
 What wilt thou do ? turn hypocrite again, 
 
 With hope dissimulation can aid thee ? 
 
 Or that one eye will shed a tear in sign 
 
 Of sorrow for thee ? I have warrant to 
 
 Make bold with mine own, pray you uncase : 
 this key, too, 
 
 I must make bold with. Hide thyself in 
 some desart, 
 
 Where good men ne'er may find thee ; or in 
 justice 
 
 Pack to Virginia, and repent ; not for 
 
 Those horrid ends to which thou didst de- 
 sign these. 
 
 Luke. I care not where I go : what's done, 
 with words 
 
 Cannot be undone. \Exit. 
 
 L. Frug. Yet, sir, shew some mercy ; 
 
 Because his cruelty to me and mine, 
 
 Did good upon us. 
 Sir John. Of that at better leisure, 
 
 As his penitency shall work me. Make vou 
 good 
 
 Your promised reformation, and instruct 
 
 Our city dames, whom wealth makes proud, 
 to move 
 
 In their own spheres ; and willingly to con- 
 fess, 
 
 la their habits, manners, and their highest 
 port, 
 
 A distance 'twixt the city and the court. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
The Guardian. 
 
 PROLOGUE. 
 
 After twice putting forth to sea, his fame 
 Shipwreck' d in either, and his oncerknown name 
 In two years silence buried, perhaps lost 
 In the general opinion ; at our cost 
 (A zealous sacrifice to Neptune made 
 for good success in his uncertain trade] 
 Our author weighs up anchors, and once more 
 forsaking the security of the shore, 
 jKesolves to prove his fortune ; what 'twill be, 
 Is not in him, or us, to prophesie ; 
 You only, can assure us : yet he pray d 
 This little, in his absence, might be said, 
 Designing me his orator. He submits 
 To the grave censure of those abler wits 
 His weakness ; nor dares he profess that when 
 The critics laugh, he'll laugh at them agen. 
 (Strange self-love in a writer!) He would know 
 His errors as you find them, and bestow 
 His future studies to reform from this, 
 What in another might be judged amiss. 
 And yet despair not, gentlemen ; though he fear 
 His strengths to please, we hope that you shall hear 
 Some things so writ, as you may truly say 
 He hath not quite forgot to make a play, 
 As 'tis -with malice rumour d : his intents 
 Are fair ; and though he want the compliments 
 Of 'wide-mouth 'd promisers, who still engage, 
 Before their works are brought upon the stage, 
 Their parasites to proclaim them : this last birth, 
 Deliver d without noise, may yield such mirth, 
 As, balanced equally, will cry down the boast 
 .? Of arrogance, and regain his credit lost. 
 
 DRAMATIS PERSONS. 
 
 Alphonso, king of Naples. 
 Duke Montpensier, general of Milan. 
 Severino, a banished nobleman. 
 Monteclaro, his brother-in-law (supposed 
 
 dead,) disguised under the name of 
 
 Laval. 
 
 Durazzo, the GUARDIAN. 
 Caldoro, his nephew and ward, in love with 
 
 Calista. 
 
 Adorio, a young libertine. 
 Camillo, \ 
 
 Lentulo, L Neapolitan gentlemen. 
 ' ) 
 
 Donate, 
 
 Carlo, cook to Adorio. 
 
 Claudio, a confidential servant to Seve- 
 rino. 
 
 Captain. 
 
 Banditti. 
 
 Servants. 
 
 lolante, wife to Severino. 
 
 Calista, her daughter, in love with 
 Adorio. 
 
 Mirtilla, Calista's maid. 
 
 Calipso, the confident of lolante. 
 
 Singers, Countrymen. 
 
 SCENE, Pattly at Naples, and partly in the adjacent country. 
 
458 
 
 THE GUARDIAN. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 SCENE I. Naples. A Grave. 
 
 Enter Durazzo, Camillo, Lentulo, Donate, 
 and tzvo Servants. 
 
 Dur. Tell me of his expenses ! Which of 
 
 you 
 
 Stands bound for a gazet? he spend his own ; 
 And you impertinent fools or knaves, (make 
 
 choice 
 Of either title, which your signiorships 
 
 please,) 
 To meddle in't. 
 
 Camil. Your age gives privilege 
 To this harsh language. 
 
 Dnr. My age ! do not use 
 That word again ; if you do, I shall grow 
 
 young, 
 And swinge you soundly : I would have you 
 
 know 
 
 Though I write fifty odd, I do not carry 
 An almanack in my bones to pre-declare 
 What weather we shall have ; nor do I kneel 
 In adoration, at the spring and fall, 
 Before my doctor, for a dose or two 
 Of his restoratives, which are things, I take it, 
 You are familiar with. 
 
 Camil. This is from the purpose. 
 
 Dur. I cannot cut a caper, or groan like 
 
 you 
 
 When I have done, nor run away so nimbly 
 Out of the field : but bring me to a fence- 
 school, 
 
 And crack a blade or two for exercise, 
 Ride a barb'd horse, or take a leap after me, 
 Following my hounds, or hawks, (and, by 
 
 your leave, 
 At a gamesome mistress,) and you shall 
 
 confess 
 
 I am in the May of my abilities, 
 And you in your December. 
 
 Lent. We are glad you bear 
 Your years so well. 
 
 Dur. My years ! no more of years ; 
 If you do, at your peril. 
 Camil. We desire not 
 To prove your valour. 
 Dur. 'Tis your safest course. 
 Camil. But as friends to your fame and 
 
 reputation, 
 
 Come to instruct you, your too much in- 
 dulgence 
 
 To the exorbitant waste of young Caldoro, 
 Your nephew and your ward, hath rendered 
 
 you 
 
 But a bad report among wise men ifi Naples. 
 Dur. Wise men ! in your opinion ; but 
 to me, 
 
 That understand myself and them, they are 
 Hide-bounded money-mongers : they would. 
 
 have me 
 
 Train up my ward a hopeful youth, to keep 
 A merchant's book ; or at the plough, and 
 
 clothe him 
 In canvas or coarse cotton ; while I fell 
 His woods, grant leases, which he must make 
 
 good 
 When he comes to age, or be compelled to 
 
 marry 
 With a cast whore and three bastards ; let 
 
 him know 
 
 No more than how to cipher well, or do 
 His tricks by the square root ; grant him no 
 
 pleasure 
 
 But quoits and nine-pins ; suffer him to con- 
 verse 
 With none but clowns and cobblers : as the 
 
 Turk says, 
 
 Poverty, old age, and aches of all seasons, 
 Light on such heathenish guardians ! 
 
 Don. You do worse 
 
 To the ruin of his state, under your favour, 
 In feeding his loose riots. 
 
 Dur. Riots ! what riots ? 
 He wears rich clothes, I do so ; keeps 
 
 horses, games, and wenches ; 
 'Tis not amiss, so it be done with decorum : 
 In an heir 'tis ten times more excusable 
 Than to be over-thrifty. Is there aught else 
 That you can charge him with ? 
 
 Camil. With what we grieve for, 
 And you will not approve. 
 Dur. Out with it, man. 
 Camil. His rash endeavour, without your 
 
 consent, 
 
 To match himself into a family 
 Not gracious with the times. 
 Dur. 'Tis still the better ; 
 By this means he shall scape court visitants, 
 And not be eaten out of house and home 
 In a summer progress : but does he mean to 
 
 marry ? 
 
 Camil. Yes, sir, to marry. 
 Dur. In a beardless chin 
 'Tis ten times worse than wenching. Family ! 
 
 whose family ? 
 Camil. Signor Severino's. 
 Dur. How ! not he that killed 
 The brother of his wife, as it is rumour'd, 
 Then fled upon it ; since proscribed, and 
 
 chosen 
 
 Captain of the Banditti ; the king's pardon 
 On no suit to be granted? 
 Lent. The same, sir. 
 Dur. This touches near: how is his love 
 
 return d 
 By the saint he worships ? 
 
THE GUARDIAN. 
 
 459' 
 
 Don. She affects him not, 
 But dotes upon another. 
 
 Dur. Worse and worse. 
 
 Camil. You know him, young Adorio. 
 
 Dur. A brave gentleman ! 
 What proof of this ? 
 
 Lent. I dogg'd him to the church ; 
 Where he, not for devotion, as I guess, 
 But to make his approaches to his mistress, 
 Is often seen. 
 
 Camil. And would you stand conceal'd 
 Among these trees, for he must pass this 
 
 green, 
 
 The matins ended, as she returns home, 
 You may observe the passages. 
 
 Dur. I thank you ; 
 This torrent must be stopt. 
 
 Don. They come. 
 
 Camil. Stand close. \Theystandaslde. 
 
 Enter Adorio, Calista, Mirtilla, and 
 Caldoro muffled. 
 
 Calls. I know I wrong my modesty. 
 
 Ador. And wrong me, 
 In being so importunate for that 
 I neither can nor must grant. 
 
 Calls. A hard sentence ! 
 And to increase my misery, by you, 
 Whom fond affection hath made my judge, 
 Pronounced without compassion. Alas, sir, 
 Did I approach you with unchaste desires, 
 A sullied reputation ; were deform' d, 
 As it may be I am, though many affirm 
 I am something more than handsome 
 
 Dur. I dare swear it. 
 
 Calis. Or if I we*?Hio gentlewoman, but 
 
 bred coarsely, 
 You might, with some pretence of reason, 
 
 slight 
 What you should sue for. 
 
 Dur. Were he not an eunuch, 
 He would, and sue again ; I am sure I 
 
 should. 
 
 Pray look in my collar, a flea troubles me : 
 Hey-day ! there are a legion of young Cupids 
 At barley-break in my breeches. 
 
 Calls. Hear me, sir ; 
 Though you continue, nay increase your 
 
 scorn, 
 
 Only vouchsafe to let me understand 
 What my defects are ; of which once con- 
 vinced, 
 
 I will hereafter silence my harsh plea, 
 And spare your further trouble. 
 
 Ador. I will tell you, 
 And bluntly, as my usual manner is. 
 Though I were a woman-hate;-, which I am 
 not, 
 
 But love the sex, for my ends, take me with 
 
 you ; 
 
 If in my thought I found one taint or blemish 
 In the whole fabric of your outward features, 
 I would give myself the lie. You are a 
 
 virgin 
 Possess'd of all your mother could wish inj 
 
 you ; 
 
 Your father Severino's dire disaster 
 In killing of your uncle, which I grieve for, 
 In no part taking from you. I repeat it, 
 A noble virgin, for whose grace and favours 
 The Italian princes might contend as rivals ;. 
 Yet unto me, a thing far, far beneath you, 
 (A noted libertine I profess myself,) 
 In your mind there does appear one fault so 
 
 gross, 
 Nay, I might say unpardonable at your 
 
 years, 
 
 If justly you consider it, that I cannot 
 As you desire, affect you. 
 
 Calls. Make me know it, 
 I'll soon reform it. 
 
 Ador. Would you'd keep your word ! 
 Calls. Put me to the test. 
 Ador. I will. You are too honest, 
 And, like your mother, too strict and re- 
 ligious, 
 
 And talk too soon of marriage; I shall break, 
 If at that rate I purchase you. Can I part 
 
 with 
 
 My uncurb'd liberty, and on my neck 
 "ear such a heavy yoke ? hazard my for- 
 tunes, 
 With all the expected joys my life can yield 
 
 me, 
 
 For one commodity, before I prove it ? 
 Venus forbid on both sides ! let crook'd 
 
 hams, 
 Bald heads, declining shoulders, furrow'd 
 
 cheeks, 
 
 Be awed by ceremonies : if you love me 
 In the way young people should, I'll fly to- 
 
 meet it, 
 And we'll meet merrily. 
 
 Calls. Tis strange such a man 
 Can use such language. 
 
 Ador. In my tongue my heart 
 Speaks freely, fair one. Think on't, a close 
 
 friend, 
 
 Or private mistress, is court rhetoric ; 
 A wife, mere rustic solecism : so good mor- 
 row ! 
 
 [Adorio offers to go, Caldoro comes ' 
 
 forward and stops him. 
 Camil. How like you this ? 
 Dur. A well-bred gentleman ! 
 I am thinking now if ever in the dark, 
 Or drunk, I met his mother : he must have- 
 
4 6o 
 
 THE GUARDIAN. 
 
 .Some drops of my blood in him, for at his 
 
 years 
 I was much of his religion. 
 
 Camll. Out upon you ! 
 
 Don. The colt's tooth still in your mouth ! 
 
 Dur. What means this whispering? 
 
 Ador. You may perceive I seek not to 
 
 displant you, 
 
 "Where you desire to grow ; for further thanks, 
 'Tis needless compliment. 
 
 Cald. There are some natures 
 Which blush to owe a benefit, if not 
 Received in corners; holding it an impairing 
 To their own worth, should they acknow- 
 ledge it. 
 
 I am made of other clay, and therefore must 
 Trench so far on your leisure, as to win you 
 To lend a patient ear, while I profess 
 Before my glory, though your scorn, Calista, 
 How much I am your servant. 
 
 Ador. My designs 
 
 Are not so urgent, but they can dispense 
 With so much time. 
 
 Carnil, Pray you now observe your 
 nephew. 
 
 Dur. How he looks ! like a school-boy that 
 
 had play'd the truant, 
 And went to be breech'd. 
 
 Cald. Madam ! 
 
 Calis. A new affliction : 
 Your suit offends as much as his repulse, 
 It being not to be granted. 
 
 Mirt. Hear him, madam ; 
 His sorrow is not personated ; he deserves 
 Your pity, not contempt. 
 
 Dur. He has made the maid his ; 
 And, as the master of the Art of Love 
 Wisely affirms, it is a kind of passage 
 To the mistress' favour. 
 
 Cald. I come not to urge 
 My merit to deserve you, since you are, 
 Weigh 'd truly to your worth, above all value: 
 Much less to argue you of want of judgment 
 For following one that with wing'd feet flies 
 
 from you, 
 While I, 'at all parts, without boast, his 
 
 equal, 
 In vain pursue you ; bringing those flames 
 
 with me, 
 Those lawful flames, (for, madam, know, 
 
 with other 
 
 I never shall approach you,) which Adorio, 
 In scorn of Hymen and religious rites, 
 With atheistical impudence contemns ; 
 And in his loose attempt to undermine 
 The fortress of your honour, seeks to ruin 
 All holy altars by clear minds erected 
 To virgin honour. 
 
 Dur. My nephew is an ass ; 
 
 What a devil hath he to do with virgin 
 
 honour, 
 Altars, or la \\ful flames, when he should tell 
 
 her 
 They are superstitious nothings ; and speak 
 
 to the purpose, 
 
 Of the delight to meet in the old dance, 
 Between a pair of sheets ; mygrandam call'd 
 
 it, 
 The Peopling of the World. 
 
 Calis. How, gentle sir ! 
 To vindicate my honour? that is needless ; 
 I dare not fear the worst aspersion malice 
 Can throw upon it. 
 
 Cald. Your sweet patience, lady, 
 And more than dove-like innocence, render 
 
 you 
 
 Insensible of an injury, for which 
 I deeply suffer. Can you undergo 
 The scorn of being refused ? I must confess 
 It makes for my ends ; for had he embraced 
 Your gracious offers tender 'd him, I had been 
 In my own hopes forsaken ; and if yet 
 There can breathe any air of comfort in me, 
 To his contempt I owe it : but his ill 
 No more shall make way for my good intents, 
 Than virtue, powerful in herself, can need 
 The aids of vice. 
 
 Ador. You take that license, sir, 
 W T hich yet I never granted. 
 
 Cald. I'll force more ; 
 Nor will I for my own ends undertake it, 
 As I will make apparent, but to do 
 A justice to your sex, with mine own wrong j 
 And irrecoverable loss. To thee I turn, 
 Thou goatish ribald, in whom lust is grown 
 Defensible, the last descent to hell, 
 Which gapes wide for thee : look upon this 
 
 lady, 
 
 And on her fame, (if it were possible, 
 Fairer than she is,) and if base desires, 
 And beastly appetite, will give thee leave, 
 Consider how she sought thee, how this lady, 
 In a noble way, desired thee. W r as she 
 
 fashion'd 
 In an inimitable mould, (which Nature 
 
 broke, 
 The great work perfected,) to be made a 
 
 slave 
 
 To thy libidinous twines, and, when com- 
 manded, 
 
 To be used as physic after drunken surfeits ! 
 Mankind should rise against thee : what even 
 
 now 
 
 I heard with horror, shewed like blasphemy, 
 And as such I will punish it. 
 
 [Strikes Adorio, the rest rush for- 
 ward ; they all draw. 
 Calis. Murder ! 
 
THE GUARDIAN. 
 
 461 
 
 Mirt. Help ! 
 
 Dur. After a whining prologue, who 
 
 would have look'd for 
 Such a rough catastrophe? Xay, come on, 
 
 fear nothing : 
 Never till now my nephew ! and do you 
 
 hear, sir? 
 (And yet I love thee too) if you take the 
 
 wench now, 
 
 I'll have it posted first, then chronicled, 
 Thou wert beaten to it. 
 
 Actor. You think you have shewn 
 A memorable masterpiece of valour 
 In doing this in public, and it may 
 Perhaps deserve her shoe-string for a favour : 
 Wear it without my envy ; but expect, 
 For this affront, when time serves, I shall 
 
 call you 
 To a strict accompt. \Exit. 
 
 Dur. Hook on, follow him, harpies ! 
 You may feed upon this business for a month, 
 If you manage it handsomely : 
 
 \Exciint Camillo, Lenttilo, and Donato. 
 When two heirs quarrel, 
 The swordmen of the city shortly after 
 Appear in plush, for their grave consultations 
 In taking up the difference ; some, I know, 
 Make a set living on't. Nay, let him go, 
 Thou art master of the field ; enjoy thy 
 
 fortune 
 
 With moderation : for a flying foe, 
 Discreet and provident conquerors build up 
 A bridge of gold. To thy mistress, boy ! if 
 
 I were 
 In thy shirt, how I could nick it ! 
 
 Cald. You stand, madam, 
 As you were rooted, and I 'more than fear 
 My' passion hath offended : I perceive 
 The roses frighted from your cheeks, and 
 
 paleness 
 To usurp their room ; yet you may please to 
 
 ascribe it 
 
 To my excess of love, and boundless ardour 
 To do you right ; for myself I have done 
 
 nothing. 
 
 I will not curse my stars, howe'er assured 
 To me you are los't for ever : lor suppose 
 Adorio slain, and by my hand, my life 
 Is forfeited to the law, which I contemn, 
 So with a tear or two you would remember 
 I was your martyr, and died in your service. 
 Cal. Alas, you weep ! and in my just 
 
 compassion 
 
 Of what you suffer, I were more' than marble, 
 Should I not keep you company : you have 
 
 sought 
 
 My favours nobly, and I am justly punish 'd, 
 In wild Adorio's contempt and scorn, 
 For my ingratitude, it is no better, 
 
 I To your deservings : yet such is my fate, 
 I Though I would, I cannot help it. O 
 
 Caldoro ! 
 
 In our misplaced afiection I prove 
 Too soon, and with dear-bought experience,. 
 
 Cupid 
 ; Is blind indeed, and hath mistook his- 
 
 arrows. 
 
 j If it be possible, learn to forget, 
 j (And yet that punishment is too light,) to- 
 
 hate, 
 
 j A thankless virgin : practise it ; and may 
 I Your due consideration that I am so, 
 
 In your imagination, disperse 
 | Loathsome deformity upon this face 
 | That hath bewitch'd you ! more I cannot say r , 
 1 But that I truly pity you, and wish you 
 I A better choice, which, in my prayers, 
 
 Caldoro, 
 I ever will remember. 
 
 [Exeunt Calista and Mirtilla- 
 Dur. 'Tis a sweet rogue. 
 Why, how now ! thunderstruck ? 
 
 Cald. I am not so happy : 
 Oh that I were but master of myself ! 
 { You soon should see me nothing. 
 Dur. What would you do ? 
 Cald. With one stab give a fatal period 
 ! To my woes and life together. 
 
 Dur. For a woman ! 
 
 ! Better the kind were lost, and generation 
 ! Maintain'd a new way. 
 
 Cald. Pray you, sir, forbear 
 j This profane language. 
 
 Dur. Pray you, be you a man, 
 j And whimper not like a girl : all shall be well, 
 j As I live it shall ; this is no hectic fever, 
 i But a love-sick ague, easy to be cured, 
 ! And I'll be your physician, so you subscribe 
 : To my directions. First, you must change 
 i This city whorish air, for 'tis infected, 
 ; And my potions will not work here ; I must ; 
 
 have you 
 
 ; To my country villa : rise before the sun, 
 | Then make a breakfast of the morning 
 I dew, 
 
 Served up by nature on some grassy hill ; 
 You'll find it nectar, and far more cordial 
 Than cullises, cock-broth, or your distilla- 
 tions 
 
 Of a hundred crowns a quart. 
 Cald. You talk of nothing. 
 Dur. This ta'en as a preparative, to> 
 
 strengthen 
 
 I Your queasy stomach, vault into your saddle ; 
 i With all this flesh I can do it without a 
 
 stirrup : 
 
 ! My hounds uncoupled, and my huntsmen 
 I ready, 
 
THE GUARDIAN. 
 
 You shall hear such music from their tunable 
 
 mouths, 
 
 That you shall say the viol, harp, theorbo, 
 Ne'er made such ravishing harmony ; from 
 
 the groves 
 And neighbouring woods, with frequent 
 
 iterations, 
 
 Enamour'd of the cry, a thousand echoes 
 Repeating it. 
 
 Cald. What 's this to me ? 
 Dur. It shall be, 
 
 And you give thanks for't. In the afternoon, 
 For we will have variety of delights, 
 We'll to the field again, no game shall rise 
 But we'll be ready for't : if a hare, my grey- 
 hounds 
 Shall make a course ; for the pie or jay, a 
 
 sparhawk 
 
 Flies from the fist ; the crow so near pursued, 
 .Shall be compell'd to seek protection under 
 Our horses' bellies ; a hearn put from her 
 
 siege, 
 And a pistol shot off in her breech, shall 
 
 mount 
 
 So high, that, to your view, she'll seem to soar 
 Above the middle region of the air : 
 A cast of haggard falcons, by me mann'd, 
 Eyeing the prey at first, appear as if 
 They did turn tail ; but with their labouring 
 
 wings 
 Getting above her, with a thought their 
 
 pinions 
 
 Cleaving the purer element, make in, 
 And by turns bind with her ; the frighted 
 
 fowl, 
 
 Lying at her defence upon her back, 
 With her dreadful beak a while defers her 
 
 death, 
 But by degrees forced down, we part the 
 
 fray, 
 And feast upon her. 
 
 ' Cald. This cannot be, I grant, 
 But pretty pastime. 
 
 Dur. Pretty pastime, nephew ! 
 'Tis royal sport. Then, for an evening flight, 
 A tiercel gentle, which I call, my masters, 
 As he were sent a messenger to the moon, 
 In such a place flies, as he seems to say, 
 See me, or see me not ! the partridge sprung, 
 He makes his stoop ; but wanting breath, is 
 
 forced 
 
 To cancelier ; then, with such speed as if 
 He carried lightning in his wings, he strikes 
 The trembling bird, who even in death 
 
 appears 
 Proud to be made his quarry. 
 
 Cald. Yet all this 
 Is nothing to Calista. 
 Dur. Thou shall find 
 
 Twenty Calistas there ; for every night, 
 
 A fresh and lusty one ; I'll give thee a ticket, 
 
 In which my name, Durazzo's name, sub- 
 scribed, 
 
 My tenants' nut-brown daughters, whole- 
 some girls, 
 
 At midnight shall contend to do thee service. 
 
 I have bred them up to't ; should their 
 fathers murmur, 
 
 Their leases are void, for that is a main point 
 
 In my indentures ; and when we make our 
 progress, 
 
 There is no entertainment perfect, if 
 
 This last dish be not offer'd. 
 Cald. You make me smile. 
 Dur. I'll make thee laugh outright. Mv 
 horses, knaves ! 
 
 'Tis but six short hours riding : yet ere night 
 
 Thou shalt be an alter'd man. 
 
 Cald. I wish I may, sir. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE II. A Room in Severino's House. 
 Enter Ib'lante, Calista, Calipso, and 
 
 Mirtilla. 
 
 Idl. I had spies upon you, minion ; the 
 relation 
 
 Of your behaviour was at home before you : 
 
 My daughter to hold parley, from the 
 church too, 
 
 With noted libertines ! her fame and favours 
 
 The quarrel of their swords ! 
 Calls. 'Twas not in me 
 
 To help it, madam. 
 
 Idl. No ! how have I lived? 
 
 My neighbour knows my manners have 
 been such, 
 
 That I presume I may affirm, and boldly, 
 
 In no particular action of my life 
 
 I can be justly censured. 
 Calip. Censured, madam ! 
 
 What lord or lady lives, worthy to sit 
 
 A competent judge on you ? 
 Calls. Yet black detraction 
 
 Will find faults where they are not. 
 Calip. Her foul mouth 
 
 Is stopp'd, you being the object : give me 
 leave 
 
 To speak my thoughts, yet still under cor- 
 rection ; 
 
 And if my young lady and her woman hear 
 
 With reverence, they may be edified. 
 
 You are my gracious patroness and sup- 
 portress, 
 
 And I your poor observer, nay, your creature, 
 
 Fed by your bounties ; and but that I know 
 
 Your honour detests flattery, I might say, 
 
 And with an emphasis, you are the lady 
 
 Admired and envied at, far, far above ' 
 
 All imitation of the best of women 
 
THE GUARDIAN. 
 
 463 
 
 That are or ever shall be. This is truth : 
 I dare not be obsequious ; and 'twould ill 
 Become my gravity, and wisdom glean'd 
 From your oraculous ladyship, to act 
 The part of a she-parasite. 
 
 Id I. If you do, 
 I never shall acknowledge you. 
 
 Calls. Admirable ! 
 This is no flattery ! [Aside to Mirt. 
 
 Mirt. Do not interrupt her : 
 'Tis such a pleasing itch to your lady- 
 mother, 
 
 That she may peradventure forget us, 
 To feed on her own praises. 
 
 Ibl. I am not 
 
 So far in debt to age, but if I would 
 Listen to men's bewitching sorceries, 
 I could be courted. 
 
 Calip. Rest secure of that. 
 All the braveries of the city run mad for you, 
 And yet your virtue's such, not one attempts 
 
 n,. 
 keep no mankind servant in my 
 house, 
 
 In fear my chastity may be suspected : 
 How is that voiced in Naples? 
 Calip. With loud applause, 
 I assure your honour. 
 
 Id I. It confirms I can 
 Command my sensual appetites. 
 
 Calip. As vassals to 
 
 Your more than masculine reason, that com- 
 mands them : 
 
 Your palace styled a nunnery of pureness, 
 In which not one lascivious thought dares 
 
 enter, 
 
 Your clear soul standing centinel. 
 Mirt. Well said, Echo ! [Aside. 
 
 Idl. Yet I have tasted those d'elights 
 
 which women 
 
 So greedily long for, know their titillations ; 
 And when, with danger of his head, thy 
 
 father 
 
 Comes to give comfort to my widow'dsheets, 
 As soon as his desires are satisfied, 
 I can with ease forget them. 
 
 Calip. Observe that, 
 It being indeed remarkable : 'tis nothing 
 For a simple maid, that never had her hand 
 In the honey-pot of pleasure, to forbear it ; 
 But such as have lick'd there, and lick'd 
 there often, 
 
 And felt the sweetness oft 
 
 Mirt. How her mouth runs o'er 
 With rank imagination ! [Aside. 
 
 Calip. If such can, 
 
 As urged before, the kickshaw being offer'd, 
 Refuse to take it, like my matchless madam, 
 They may be sainted. 
 
 Idl. I'll lose no more breath 
 In fruitless reprehension ; look to it : 
 I'll have thee wear this habit of my mind, 
 As ot my body. 
 
 Calip. Seek no other precedent : 
 In all the books of Amadis de Gaul, 
 The Palmerins, and that true Spanish story, 
 The Mirror of Knighthood, which I have 
 
 read often, 
 
 Read feelingly, nay more, I do believe in't, 
 My lady has no parallel. 
 
 161. Do not provoke me : 
 If, from this minute, thou e'er stir abroad, 
 Write letter, or receive one ; or presume 
 To look upon a man, though from a window, 
 I'll chain thee like a slave in some dark 
 
 corner ; 
 
 Prescribe thy daily labour, which omitted, 
 Expect the usage of a fury from me, 
 Not an indulgent mother. Come, Calipso. 
 
 Calip. Your ladyship's injunctions are so 
 
 easy, 
 
 That I dare pawn my credit my young lady 
 And her woman shall obey them. 
 
 [Exeunt lolante and Calipso. 
 
 Mirt. You shall fry first 
 For a rotten piece of touchwood, and give 
 
 fire 
 To the great fiend's nostrils, when he smokes 
 
 tobacco ! 
 Note the injustice, madam ; they would 
 
 have us, 
 Being young and hungry, keep perpetual 
 
 Lent, 
 
 And the whole year to them a carnival. 
 Easy injunctions, with a mischief to you ! 
 Suffer this and suffer all. 
 
 Calls. Not stir abroad ! 
 The use and pleasure of our eyes denied us ! 
 
 Mirt. Insufferable. 
 
 Calls. Nor write, nor yet receive 
 An amorous letter ! 
 
 Mirt. Not to be endured. 
 
 Calls. Nor look upon a man out of a 
 window ! 
 
 Mirt. Flat tyranny, insupportable tyranny, 
 To a lady of your blood. 
 
 Calls. She is my mother, 
 And how should I decline it ? 
 
 Mirt. Run away from't ; 
 Take any course. 
 
 Calls. But without means, Mirtilla, 
 How shall we live ? . 
 
 Mirt. What a question's that ! as if 
 A buxom lady could want maintenance 
 In any place in the world, where there are 
 
 men, 
 Wine, meat, or money stirring. 
 
 Calls. Be you more modest, 
 
4 6 4 
 
 THE GUARDIAN. 
 
 Or seek some other mistress : rather than 
 In a thought or dream I will consent to 
 
 aught 
 
 That may take from my honour, I'll endure 
 
 More than my mother can impose upon me. 
 
 Mirt. I grant your honour is a specious 
 
 dressing, 
 
 But without conversation of men, 
 A kind of nothing. I will not persuade you 
 To disobedience : yet my confessor told me 
 (And he, you know, is held a learned clerk) 
 When parents do enjoin unnatural things, 
 Wise children may evade them. She may as 
 
 well 
 
 Command when you are hungry, not to eat, 
 Or drink, or sleep: and yet all these are 
 
 easy, 
 
 Compared with the not seeing of a man, 
 As I persuade no further ; but to you 
 There is no such necessity ; you have the 
 
 means 
 
 To shun your mother's rigour. 
 Calls. Lawful means ? 
 Mirt. Lawful, and pleasing too ; I will 
 
 not urge 
 
 Caldoro's loyal love, you being averse to't ; 
 Make trial of Adorio. 
 Calls, And give up 
 My honour to his lust ! 
 
 Mirt. There's no such thing 
 Intended, madam ; in few words, write to 
 
 him 
 What slavish hours you spend under your 
 
 mother ; 
 That you desire not present marriage from 
 
 him, 
 
 But as a noble gentleman to redeem you 
 From the tyranny you suffer. With your 
 
 letter 
 
 Present him some rich jewel; you have one, 
 In which the rape of Proserpine, in little, 
 Is to the life express'd : I'll be the messenger | 
 With any hazard, and at my return, 
 Yield you a good account oft. 
 
 Calls. 'Tis a business 
 To be consider'd of. 
 
 Mirt. Consideration, 
 WTien the converse of your lover is in 
 
 question, 
 
 Is of no moment : if she would allow you 
 A dancer in the morning to well breathe you, 
 A songster in the afternoon, a servant 
 To air you in the evening ; give you leave 
 To see the theatre twice a week, to mark 
 How the old actors decay, the young sprout 
 
 up, 
 
 (A fitting observation,) you might bear it ; 
 But not to see, or talk, or touch a man, 
 Abominable 1 
 
 Calls. Do not my blushes speak 
 How willingly I wo'uid assent? 
 
 Mirt. Sweet lady, 
 
 Do something to deserve them, and blush 
 after. \Excunt. 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 SCENE I. The same. A Street v car 
 Severino's House. 
 
 Enter lolante and Calipso. 
 
 7t>7. And are these Frenchmen, as you say, 
 
 such gallants ? 
 Calip. Gallant and active ; their free 
 
 breeding knows not 
 The Spanish and Italian preciseness 
 Practised among us ; what we call immodest, 
 With them is styled bold courtship: they 
 
 dare fight 
 
 Under a velvet ensign, at fourteen. 
 Idl, A petticoat, you mean ? 
 Calip. You are in the right ; 
 Let a mistress wear it under an armour of 
 
 proof, 
 
 They are not to be beaten off. 
 Idl. You are merry, neighbour. 
 Calip. I fool to make you so : pray you 
 
 observe them, 
 They are the forward's! monsieurs ; born 
 
 physicians 
 For the malady of young wenches, and 
 
 ne'er miss : 
 I owe my life to one of them. When I was 
 A raw young thing, not worth the ground I 
 
 trod on, 
 
 And long'd to dip my bread in tar, my lips 
 As blue as salt-water, he came up roundly 
 
 to me, 
 
 And cured me in an instant ; Venus be 
 praised for't ! 
 
 Enter Alphonso, Montpensier, Laval, Cap- 
 tain, and Attendants. 
 
 Idl. They come, leave prating. 
 
 Calip. I am dumb, an't like your honour. 
 
 Alph. We will not break the league con- 
 firm 'd between us 
 And your great master : the passage of his 
 
 army 
 
 Through all our territories lies open to him; 
 Only we grieve that your design for Rome 
 Commands such haste, as it denies us means 
 To entertain you as your worth deserves, 
 And we would gladly tender. 
 
 Mont. Royal Alphonso, 
 The king my master, your confederate, 
 Will pay the debt he owes, in lact, which I 
 
THE GUARDIAN. 
 
 465 
 
 Want words t'express. I must remove to- 
 night ; 
 
 And yet, that your intended favours may not 
 Be lost, I leave this gentleman behind me, 
 To whom you may vouchsafe them, I dare 
 
 say, 
 
 Without repentance. I forbear to give 
 Your majesty his character ; in France 
 He was a precedent for arts and arms, 
 Without a rival, and may prove in Naples 
 Worthy the imitation. 
 
 [Introduces Laval to the king. 
 
 Calip. Is he not, madam, 
 A monsieur in print ? what a garb was there! 
 
 O rare ! 
 Then, how lie wears his clothes ! and the 
 
 fashion of them ! 
 
 A main assurance that he is within 
 All excellent : by this, wise ladies ever 
 Make their conjectures. 
 
 IS I. Peace, I have observed him 
 From head to foot. 
 
 Calif. Eye him again, all over. 
 
 Lav. It cannot, royal sir, but argue me 
 Of much presumption, if not impudence, 
 To be a suitor to your majesty, 
 Before I have deserved a gracious grant, 
 By some employment prosperously achieved. 
 But pardon, gracious sir : when I left France 
 I made a vow to a bosom friend of mine, 
 (Which my lord general, if he please, can 
 
 witness,) 
 
 With such humility as well becomes 
 A poor petitioner, to desire a boon 
 From your magnificence. 
 
 [He delivers a petition. 
 
 Calip. With what punctual form 
 Me does deliver it ! 
 
 Idl. I have eyes : no more. 
 
 A Iph. For Severino's pardon ! you must 
 
 excuse me, 
 I dare not pardon murder. 
 
 Lav. His fact, sir, 
 
 Ever submitting to your abler judgment, 
 Merits a fairer name : he was provoked, 
 As by unanswerable proofs it is confirm 'd, 
 By Monteclaro's rashness ; who repining 
 That Severino, without his consent, 
 Had married lolante, his sole sister, 
 (It being conceal'd almost for thirteen years, ) 
 Though the gentleman, at all parts, was his 
 
 equal, 
 First challeng'd him, and, that declined, he 
 
 gave him 
 A blow in public. 
 
 Mont. Not to be endured, 
 But by a slave. 
 
 Lav. This, great sir, justly weigh'd, 
 You may a little, if you please, take from 
 
 The rigour of your justice, and express 
 An act of mercy. 
 
 Jol. I can hear no more. 
 This opens an old wound, and makes a new 
 
 one. 
 
 Would it were cicatrized ! wait me. 
 Calip. As your shadow. 
 
 \Excuiit lolante and Calipso. 
 Alph. We grant you these arc glorious 
 
 pretences, 
 
 Revenge appearing in the shape of valour, 
 Which wise kings must distinguish : the 
 
 defence 
 
 Of reputation, now made a bawd 
 To murder ; every trifle falsely styled 
 An injury, and not to be determined 
 But by a bloody duel : though this vice 
 Hath taken root and growth beyond the 
 
 mountains, 
 
 (As France, and, in strange fashions, her ape, 
 England, can dearly witness with the loss 
 Of more brave spirits, than would have stood 
 
 the shock 
 
 Of the Turk's army,) while Alphonso lives 
 It shall not here be planted. Move me no 
 
 further 
 
 In this ; in what else suiting you to ask, 
 And me to give, expect a gracious answer : 
 However, welcome to our court. Lord 
 
 General, 
 I'll bring you out of the ports, and then 
 
 betake you 
 
 To your good fortune. 
 'Mont. Your grace overwhelms me. 
 
 {Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE ll.AtfcominSQverino'stfottsc. \ 
 
 Enter Calipso and lolante. 
 
 Calip. You are bound to favour him : 
 
 mark you how he pleaded 
 I For my lord's pardon. 
 \ Idl. That's indeed a tie ; 
 i But I have a stronger on me. 
 
 Calip. Say you love 
 
 i His person, be not asham'd oft ; he's a man, 
 | For whose embraces, though Endymion 
 i Lay sleeping by, Cynthia would leave her 
 
 ' orb, 
 And exchange kisses with him. 
 
 Idl. Do not fan 
 
 A fire that burns already too hot in me ; 
 I am in my honour sick, sick to the death. 
 Never to be recovered. 
 
 Calip. What a coil's here 
 For loving a man ! It is no Africk wonder : 
 If, like Pasiphae, you doted on a bull, 
 Indeed 'twere monstrous ; but in this you I 
 have 
 
 H H 
 
THE GUARDIAN. 
 
 A thousand thousand precedents to excuse I Too fairly with him, if you take that way 
 
 you. 
 
 A seaman's wife may ask relief of her neigh- 
 bour, 
 
 When her husband's bound to the Indies, 
 and not blamed for't ; 
 
 And many more besides of higher callin. 
 
 To right yourself. 
 
 Lent. The least that you can do, 
 In the terms of honour, is, when next you 
 
 meet him, 
 
 ' To give him the bastinado. 
 Cam. And that done, 
 
 Though I forbear to name them. You i Draw out his sword to cut your own throat } 
 have a husband ; Xo, 
 
 But, as the case stands with my lord, he is \ Be ruled by me, shew yourself an Italian, 
 
 A kind of no husband ; and your ladyship j And having received one injury, do not put 
 
 As free as a widow can be. I confess, off 
 
 If ladies should seek change, that have their j Your hat for a second ; there are fellows that, 
 husbands i For a few crowns, will make him sure, and so, 
 
 At board and bed, to pay their marriage ' With your revenge, you prevent future mis- 
 duties, chief. 
 
 (The surest bond of concord,) 'twere a fault, ! Ador. I thank you, gentlemen, for your 
 
 Indeed it were : but for your honour, that ; studied care 
 
 Do lie alone so often body of me ! In what concerns my honour ; but in that 
 
 I am zealous in your cause let me take I'll steer my own course. Yet, that you may 
 
 breath. know 
 
 /<?/. I apprehend what thou wouldst say, i You are still my cabinet counsellors, my 
 I want all bosom 
 
 As means to quench the spurious fire that ; Lies open to you ; I begin to feel 
 
 burns here. 
 Calip. Want means, while I, your crea- 
 ture, live ! I dare not 
 Be so unthankful. 
 
 151. Wilt thou undertake it ? 
 And, as an earnest of much more to come, 
 Receive this jewel, and purse cramm'd full 
 
 of crowns. 
 
 How dearly I am forced to buv dishonour ! 
 
 [Aside. 
 Calip. I would do it gratis, but 'twould 
 
 ill become 
 
 My breeding to refuse your honour's bounty ; 
 Nay, say no more, all rhetoric in this 
 Is comprehended ; let me alone to work him . 
 He shall be yours ; that's poor, he is already 
 At your devotion. I will not boast 
 My faculties this way, but suppose he were 
 Coy as Adonis, or Hippolytus, 
 And your desires more hot than Cytherea's, 
 Or wanton Phaedra's, I willbringhimchain'd 
 To your embraces, glorying in his fetters : 
 I have said it. 
 
 Idl. Go, and prosper ; and imagine 
 A salary beyond thy hopes. 
 
 Calip. Sleep you 
 
 Secure on either ear ; the burthen's yours 
 To entertain him, mine to bring him hither. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE III. A Room in Adorio's House. 
 Enter Adorio, Camillo, Lentulo, and 
 
 Donato. 
 
 Don. Your wrong's beyond a challenge, 
 and you deal 
 
 A weariness, nay, satiety of looseness, 
 And something tells me here, I should repent 
 My harshness to Calista. 
 
 Enter Cario, hastily. 
 
 Camil. When you please, 
 You may remove that scruple. 
 
 Ador. I shall think on't. 
 
 Car. Sir, sir, are you ready? 
 
 Ador. To do what ? 
 I am sure 'tis not yet dinner-time. 
 
 Car. True ; but I usher 
 Such an unexpected dainty bit for breakfast, 
 As yet I never cook'd : 'tis not botargo, 
 Fried frogs, potatoes marrow'd, cavear, 
 Carps' tongues, the pith of an English chine 
 
 of beef, 
 
 Nor our Italian delicate, oil'd mushrooms, 
 And yet a drawer-oil too ; and if you shew 
 
 not 
 
 An appetite, and a strong one, I'll not say 
 To eat it, but devour it, without grace too, 
 (For it will not stay a preface, ) I am shamed, 
 And all my past provocatives will be jeer'd 
 at. 
 
 Ador. Art thou in thy wits ? what new- 
 found rarity 
 Hast thou discovered ? 
 
 Car. No such matter, sir ; 
 It grows in our own country. 
 
 Don. Serve it up, 
 I feel a kind of stomach. 
 
 Camil. I could feed too. 
 
 Car. Not a bit upon a march ; there's 
 other lettuce 
 
THE GUARDIAN. 
 
 467 
 
 For your coarse lips ; this is peculiar only 
 For my master's palate : I would give my 
 
 whole year's wages, 
 
 With all my vails, and fees duetothe kitchen, 
 But to be his carver. 
 
 Ador. Leave your fooling, sirrah, 
 And bring in your dainty. 
 
 Car. Twill bring in itself, 
 It has life and spirit in it ; and for proof, 
 Behold ! Now fall to boldly ; my life on't, 
 It comes to be tasted. 
 
 Enter. Mirtilla. 
 
 Camil. Ha ! Calista's woman ? 
 Lent. A handsome one, by Venus. 
 Ador. Pray you forbear : 
 You are welcome, fair one. 
 
 Don. How that blush becomes her ! 
 Ador. Aim your designs at me ? 
 Mirt. I am trusted, sir, 
 With a business of near consequence, which 
 
 I would 
 To your private ear deliver. 
 
 Car. I told you so. 
 Give her audience on your couch ; it is fit 
 
 state 
 To a she-ambassador. 
 
 Ador. Pray you, gentlemen, 
 For awhile dispose of yourselves, I'll straight 
 attend you. 
 
 \Exeunt Camil. Lent, and Don. 
 Car. Dispatch her first for your honour : 
 
 the quickly doing 
 
 You know what follows. 
 Ador. Will you please to vanish ? 
 
 [Exit Cario. 
 Now, pretty one, your pleasure ? you shall 
 
 find me 
 
 Ready to serve you ; if you'll put me to 
 My oath, I'll take it on this book. 
 
 \_Offcrs to kiss her. 
 Mirt. O sir, 
 
 The favour is too great, and far above 
 My poor ambition ; I must kiss your hand 
 In sign of humble thankfulness. 
 Ador. So modest ! 
 Mirt. It well becomes a maid, sir. Spare 
 
 those blessings 
 For my noble mistress, upon whom with 
 
 justice, 
 
 And, with your good allowance, I might add 
 
 With a due gratitude, you may confer them ; 
 
 But this will better speak her chaste desires, 
 
 [Delivers a letter. 
 
 Than I can fancy what they are, much less 
 With moving language, to their fair deserts, 
 Aptly express them. Pray you read, but 
 
 with 
 Compassion, I beseech you : if you find 
 
 The paper blurr'd with tears fallen from her 
 eyes, 
 
 While she endeavour'd to set down that 
 truth 
 
 Her soul did dictate to her, it must chal- 
 lenge 
 
 A gracious answer. 
 
 Ador. O the powerful charms 
 
 By that fair hand writ down here ! not like- 
 those 
 
 Which dreadfully pronounced by Circe,, 
 changed 
 
 Ulysses' followers into beasts ; these have 
 
 An opposite working, I already feel, 
 
 But reading them, their saving operations ; 
 
 And all those sensual, loose, and base 
 desires, 
 
 Which have too long usurp'd, and tyran- 
 nized 
 
 Over my reason, of themselves fall off'. 
 
 Most happy metamorphosis ! in which 
 
 The film of error that did blind my judgment, 
 
 And seduced understanding, is removed. 
 
 What sacrifice of thanks can I return 
 
 Her pious charity, that not alone 
 
 Redeems me from the worst of slavery, 
 
 The tyranny of my beastly appetites, 
 
 To which I long obsequiously have bow'd ; 
 
 But adds a matchless favour, to receive 
 
 A benefit from me, nay, puts her goodness 
 
 In my protection? 
 Mirt. Transform 'd ! it is 
 
 A bless'd metamorphosis, and works 
 
 I know not how on me. \Aside* 
 
 Ador. My joys are boundless, 
 
 Curb'd with no limits : for her sake, Mirtilla, 
 
 Instruct me how I presently may seal 
 
 To those strong bonds of loyal love, and 
 service, 
 
 Which never shall be cancell'd. 
 Mirt. She'll become 
 
 Your debtor, sir, if you vouchsafe to answer 
 
 Her pure affection. 
 Ador. Answer it, Mirtilla ! 
 
 With more than adoration I kneel to it. 
 
 Tell her, I'll rather die a thousand deaths. 
 
 Than fail, with punctuality, to perform 
 
 All her commands. 
 
 Mirt. I am lost on this assurance, 
 
 Which, if 'twere made to me, I should have 
 faith in't, 
 
 As in an oracle : ah me ! [Aside."] She pttx 
 sents you 
 
 This jewel, her dead grandsire's gift, irj, 
 which, 
 
 As by a true Egyptian hieroglyphic, 
 
 (For so I think she call'd it,) you may be 
 I Instructed what her suit is you should do, 
 I And she with joy will suffer. 
 
 H H3. 
 
468 
 
 THE GUARDIAN. 
 
 Ador. [looking at the trinket.^ Heaven be 
 
 pleased 
 
 To qualify this excess of happiness 
 With some disaster, or I shall expire 
 With a surfeit of felicity. With what art 
 The cunning lapidary hath here express'd 
 The rape of Proserpine ! I apprehend 
 Her purpose, and obey it ; yet not as 
 A helping friend, but a husband I will meet 
 Her chaste desires with lawful heat, and warm 
 Our Hymenasal sheets with such delights 
 As leave no sting behind them. 
 
 Mirt. I despair then. '{Aside. 
 
 Ador. At the time appointed say, wench, 
 
 I'll attend her, 
 
 And guard her from the fury of her mother, 
 And all that dare disturb her. 
 
 Mirt. You speak well ; 
 And I believe you. 
 
 Ador. Would you aught else? 
 
 Mirt. I would carry 
 Some love-sign to her ; and now I think on 
 
 it, 
 
 The kind salute you offer'd at my entrance, 
 Hold it not impudence that I desire it, 
 I'll faithfully deliver it. 
 
 Ador. O, a kiss ! 
 
 You must excuse me, I was then mine own, 
 Xow wholly hers : the touch of other lips 
 I do abjure for ever : but there's gold 
 To bind thee still my advocate. " [Exit. 
 
 Mirt. Not a kiss ! 
 
 I was coy when it was offer'd, and now justly, 
 When I beg one am denied. What scorch- 
 ing fires 
 
 My loose hopes kindle in me ! shall I be 
 False to my lady's trust, and, from a servant, 
 Rise up her rival? His words have be- 
 
 witch'd me, 
 And something I must do, but what ? 'tis 
 
 yet 
 
 An embryon, and how to give it form, 
 Alas, I know not. Pardon me, Calista, 
 I am nearest to myself, and time will teach 
 
 me 
 
 To perfect that which yet is undetermined. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 SCENE IV. The Country. A Forest. 
 
 Enter Claudio and Severino. 
 Claud. You are master of yourself ; yet, 
 
 if I may, 
 
 As a tried friend in my love and affection, 
 i And a servant in my duty, speak my thoughts 
 Without offence, i'the way of counsel to you ; 
 I could allege, and truly, that your purpose 
 For Naples, cover'd with a thin disguise, 
 \ Is full of danger. 
 
 Sco. Danger, Claudio ! 
 
 Tis here, and everywhere, our forced com- 
 panion : 
 
 The rising and the setting sun beholds us 
 Environ'd with it ; our whole life a journey 
 Ending in certain ruin. 
 
 Claud. Yet we should not, 
 Howe'er besieg'd, deliver up our fort 
 Of life, till it be forced. 
 
 Sev. 'Tis so indeed 
 
 By wisest men concluded, which we should 
 Obey as Christians ; but when I consider 
 How different the progress of our actions 
 Is from religion, nay, morality, 
 I cannot find in reason, why we should 
 Be scrupulous that way only ; or like meteors 
 Blaze forth prodigious terrors, till our stuff 
 Be utterly consumed, which once put out, 
 Would bring security unto ourselves, 
 And safety unto those we prey upon. 
 
 Claudio ! since by this fatal hand 
 The brother of my wife, bold Monteclaro, 
 Was left dead in the field, and I proscribed 
 After my flight, by the justice of the king, 
 My being hath been but a living death, 
 With a continued torture. 
 
 C/aitd. Yet in that, 
 You do delude their bloody violence 
 That do pursue your life. 
 
 Set'. While I, by rapines, 
 Live terrible to others as myself 
 What one hour can we challenge as our own, 
 Unhappy as we are, yielding a beam 
 Of comfort to us? Quiet night, that brings 
 Rest to the labourer, is the outlaw's dav, 
 In which he rises early to do wrong, 
 And when his work is ended, dares not sleep : 
 Our time is spent in watches to entrap 
 Such as would shun us, and to hide ourselves 
 From the ministers of justice, that would 
 
 bring us 
 
 To the correction of the law. O, Claudio, 
 Is this a life to be preserv'd, and at 
 So dear a rate ? But why hold I discourse 
 On this sad subject, since it is a burthen 
 We are mark'd to bear, and not to be shook 
 
 off 
 
 But with our human frailty ? in the change 
 Of dangers there is some delight, and there- 
 fore 
 
 1 am resolved for Naples. 
 
 Claud. May you meet there 
 All comforts that so fair and chaste a wife 
 As Fame proclaims her, without parallel, 
 Can yield to ease your sorrows ! 
 
 Sev. I much thank you ; 
 Yet you may spare those wishes, which with 
 
 joy 
 
 I have proved certainties, and from their want 
 j Her excellencies take lustre. 
 
THE GUARDIAN. 
 
 469 
 
 Claud. Ere you go yet, 
 Some charge unto your squires not to f!y out 
 Beyond their bounds, were not impertinent : 
 For though that with a look you can com- 
 mand them, 
 In your absence they'll be headstrong. 
 
 Sev. Tis well thought on, 
 I'll touch myhorn, \Blffios kis hom^\ they 
 
 know my call. 
 Claud. And will, 
 As soon as heard, make in to't from all 
 
 quarters, 
 As the flock to the shepherd's whistle. 
 
 Enter Banditti. 
 
 1 Ban. What's your will ? 
 
 2 Ban. Hail sovereign of these woods ! 
 
 3 Ban. We lay our lives 
 At your highness' feet. 
 
 4 Ban. And will confess no king, 
 
 Nor laws but what come from your mouth ; 
 
 and those 
 We gladly will subscribe to. 
 
 Sev. Make this good, 
 In my absence, to my substitute, to whom 
 Pay all obedience as to myself ; 
 The breach of this in one 'particular 
 1 will severely punish : on your lives, 
 Remember upon whom with our allowance 
 You may securely prey, with such as are 
 Exempted from your fury. 
 
 Claud. 'Twere not am'iss, 
 If you please, to help their memory ; besides, 
 Here are some newly initiated. 
 
 Sev. To these 
 
 Read you the articles ; I must be gone : 
 Clauclio, farewell ! {Exit. 
 
 Claud. May your return be speedy ! 
 
 1 Ban. Silence ; out with your table-books. 
 
 2 Ban. And observe. 
 
 Claud, [reads.] The cormorant that lives 
 
 in expectation 
 Of a Ion g-wish'd for dearth, and, smiling, 
 
 grinds 
 
 The faces of the poor, you may make spoil of ; 
 Even theft to such is justice. 
 
 3 Ban. He's in my tables. 
 
 Claud. The grand encloser of the commons, 
 
 for 
 
 His private profit or delight, -with all 
 His herds that graze upon't, arc lawful prize. 
 
 4 Ban. And we will bring them in, al- 
 though the devil 
 
 Stood roaring by, to guard them. 
 
 Claud. If a usurer, 
 
 Greedy, at his own price, to make a pur- 
 chase, 
 
 Taking advantage upon bond or mortgage 
 From a prodigal, pass through our territories, 
 
 In the. way of custom, or of tribute to us, 
 Yon may ease him of his burthen. 
 
 2 Ban. Wholesome doctrine. 
 
 Claud. Builders of iron mills, that grub 
 
 up forests 
 \Vith timber trees for shipping. 
 
 1 Ban. May we not 
 Have a touch at lawyers ? 
 
 Claud. By no means ; they may 
 Too soon have a gripe at us ; they are angry 
 
 hornets, 
 Not to be jested with. 
 
 3 Ban. This is not so well. 
 
 Claud. The owners of dark shops, that 
 
 vent their wares, 
 
 With perjuries ; cheating vintners, not con- 
 tented 
 With half in half in their reckonings, vet 
 
 cry out, 
 When they find their guests want coin, ' J is 
 
 late, 'and bed-time. 
 These ransack at your pleasures. 
 3 Ban. How shall we know them ? 
 Claud. If they walk on foot, by their rat- 
 
 colour'd stockings, 
 And shining-shoes ; if horsemen, by short 
 
 boots, 
 And riding-furniture of several counties. 
 
 2 Ban. Not one of the list escapes us. 
 Claud. But for scholars, 
 
 Whose wealth lies in their heads, and not 
 
 their pockets, 
 Soldiers that have bled in their country's 
 
 sci~i' ice ; 
 
 The rent-rack' d farmer, needy market folks ; 
 TJic sweaty labourer, carriers that transport 
 The goods of other men, are privileged ; 
 But, above all, let none presume to offer 
 Violence to women, for our king hath sworn t 
 Who that way s a delinquent, without mercy 
 Hangs for t, by martial law. 
 
 All. Long live Severino, 
 And perish all such cullions as repine 
 At his new monarchy ! 
 
 Claud. About your business, 
 That he may find, at his return, good cause 
 To praise your care and discipline. 
 
 All. \Ve'll not fail, sir. {Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE IV. Naples. A Street. 
 Enter Laval and Calipso. 
 
 Lav. Thou art sure mistaken ; 'tis not 
 
 possible 
 
 That I can be the man thpu art employ'd to. 
 Calip. Not you the man ! you are the mail 
 
 of men, 
 
 And such another, in my lady's eye, 
 Never to be discover'd. 
 
470 
 
 THE GUARDIAN. 
 
 Lav. A mere stranger, 
 Newly arrived ! 
 
 Calip. Still the more probable, 
 Since ladies, as you know, affect strange 
 
 dainties, 
 
 And brought far to them. This is not an age 
 In \vhich saints live ; but women, knowing 
 
 women, 
 
 That understand their sum mum bonum is 
 Variety of pleasures in the touch, 
 Derived from several nations ; and if men 
 would 
 
 Be wise by their example 
 
 Lav. As most are : 
 'Tis a coupling age ! 
 
 Calip. Why, sir, do gallants travel? 
 Answer that question ; but, at their return, 
 With wonder to the hearers, to discourse of 
 The garb and difference in foreign females, 
 As the lusty girl of France, the sober German, 
 The plump Dutch frow, the stately dame of 
 
 Spain ; 
 
 The Roman libertine, and sprightful Tuscan, 
 The merry Greek, Venetian courtezan, 
 The English fair companion, that learns 
 
 something 
 
 From every nation, and will fly at all : 
 I say again, the difference betwixt these 
 And their own country gamesters. 
 
 Lav . Aptly urged. 
 Some make that their main end : but may I 
 
 ask, 
 Without offence to your gravity, by what 
 
 title 
 
 Your lady, that invites me to her favours, 
 Is known in the city? 
 
 Calip. If you were a true-born monsieur, 
 You would do the business first, and ask that 
 
 after. 
 
 If you only truck with her title, I shall hardly 
 Deserve thanks for my travail ; she is, sir, 
 No single-ducat trader, nor a beldam 
 So frozen up, that a fever cannot thaw her ; 
 No lioness by her breath. 
 
 Lav. Leave these impertinencies, 
 And come to the matter. 
 
 Calip. Would you be as forward, 
 When you draw for the upshot ! she is, sir, 
 
 a lady, 
 
 A rich, fair, well-corn plexion'd, and what is 
 Not frequent among Venus' votaries, 
 Upon my credit, which good men have 
 
 trusted, 
 
 A sound and wholesome lady, and her name is 
 Madonna lolante. 
 
 Lav. lolante ! 
 
 I have heard of her ; for chastity, and beauty ; 
 The wonder of the age. 
 
 Calip. Pray you, not too much 
 
 Of chastity ; fair and free I do subscribe to, 
 \nd so you'll find her. 
 
 Lav. Come, you are a base creature ; 
 \nd, covering your foul ends with her fair 
 
 name, 
 
 ive me just reason to suspect you have 
 \ plot upon my life. 
 
 Calip. A plot ! very fine ! 
 Nay, 'tis a dangerous one, pray you beware 
 
 ' oft ; 
 
 Tis cunningly contriv'd : I plot to bring you 
 Afoot, with the travel of some forty paces, 
 To those delights which a man not made of 
 
 snow 
 Would ride a thousand miles for. You shall 
 
 be 
 Received at a postern door, if you be not 
 
 cautious, 
 By one whose touch would make old Nestor 
 
 young, 
 
 And cure his hernia ; a terrible plot ! 
 A kiss then ravish'd from you by such lips 
 As flow with nectar, a juicy palm more 
 
 precious 
 Than the famed Sibylla's bough, to guide 
 
 you safe 
 Through mists of perfumes to a glorious 
 
 room, 
 Where Jove might feast his Juno ; a dire 
 
 plot ! 
 
 A banquet I'll not mention, that is common : 
 But I must not forget, to make the plot 
 More horrid to you, the retiring bower, 
 So furnish'd as might force the Persian's 
 
 envy, 
 
 The silver bathing-tub, the cambric rubbers, 
 The embroider'd quilt, the bed of gossamer 
 And damask roses ; a mere powder plot 
 To blow you up ! and last, a bed-fellow, 
 To whose rare entertainment all these are 
 But foils and settings off. 
 
 Lav. No more; her breath 
 W^ould warm an eunuch. 
 
 Calip. I knew I should heat you : 
 Now he begins to glow ! 
 
 Lav. I am flesh and blood, 
 And I were not man if I should not run the 
 
 hazard, 
 
 Had I no other ends in't. I have consider'd 
 Your motion, matron. 
 
 Calip. My plot, sir, on your life, 
 For which I am deservedly suspected 
 For a base and dangerous woman ! Fare you 
 
 well, sir, 
 I'll be bold to take my leave. 
 
 Lav. I will along too. 
 Come, pardon my suspicion : I confess 
 My error ; and eyeing you better, I per- 
 
THE GUARDIAN. 
 
 471 
 
 There's nothing that is ill that can flow from 
 
 you ; 
 
 I am serious, and, for proof of it, I'll purchase 
 Your good opinion. [Gives her his purse. 
 
 Calip. I am gentle natured, 
 And can forget a greater wrong upon 
 Such terms of satisfaction. 
 
 Lav. What's the hour? 
 
 Calip. Twelve. 
 
 Lav. I'll not miss a minute. 
 
 Calip. I shall find you 
 At your lodging ? 
 
 Lav. Certainly ; return my service, 
 And for me kiss your lady's hands. 
 
 Calip. At twelve 
 i I'll be your convoy. 
 
 Lav. I desire no better. [Exeunt. 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 SCENE I. The Country. 
 Enter Durazzo, Caldoro, and Servant. 
 
 Dur. Walk the horses down the hill ; I 
 
 have a little 
 
 To speak in private. \_Exit Servant. 
 
 Cald. Good sir, no more anger. 
 Dur. Love do you call it ! madness, wil- 
 ful madness ; 
 
 And since I cannot cure it, I would have you 
 Exactly mad. You are a lover already, 
 Be a drunkard too, and after turn small poet, 
 I And then you are mad, katexoken the mad- 
 man. 
 Cald. Such as are safe on shore may 
 
 smile at tempests ; 
 
 ; But I, that am embark'd, and every minute 
 Expect a shipwreck, relish not your mirth : 
 I To me it is unseasonable. 
 
 Dur. Pleasing viands 
 
 i Are made sharp by sick palates. I affect 
 A handsome mistress in my gray beard as 
 
 well 
 
 As any boy of you all ; and on good terms 
 Will venture as far i 1 the fire, so she be 
 
 willing 
 
 To entertain me ; but ere I would dote, 
 As you do, where there is no nattering hope 
 Ever t' enjoy her, I would forswear wine, 
 And kill this lecherous itch with drinking 
 
 water, 
 
 Or live, like a Carthusian, on poor John, 
 Then bathe myself night by night in marble 
 
 dew, 
 And use no soap but camphire-balls. 
 
 Cald. You may, 
 
 (And I must suffer it,) like a rough surgeon, 
 Apply these burning caustics to my wounds 
 
 Already gangrened, when soft unguents 
 
 would 
 
 Better express an uncle with some feeling 
 Of his nephew's torments. 
 
 Dur. I shall melt, and cannot 
 Hold out if he whimper. O that this young 
 
 fellow, 
 Who, on my knowledge, is able to beat a 
 
 man, 
 Should be baffled by this blind imagined 
 
 boy, 
 Or fear his bird-bolts ! [Aside. 
 
 Cald. You have put yourself already 
 To too much trouble, in bringing me thus 
 
 far: 
 Now, if you please, with your good wishes, 
 
 leave me 
 To my hard fortunes. 
 
 Dur. I'll forsake myself first. 
 Leave thee ! I cannot, will not ; thou shalt 
 
 have 
 
 No cause to be weary of my company, 
 For I'll be useful ; and, ere I see thee perish, 
 Dispensing with my dignity and candour, 
 I will do something for thee, though it 
 
 savour 
 Of the old squire of Troy. As we ride, we 
 
 will 
 Consult of the means : bear up. 
 
 Cald. I cannot sink, 
 Having your noble aids to buoy me up ; 
 There was never such a guardian. 
 
 Dur. How is this ? 
 Stale compliments to me ! when my work's 
 
 done, 
 
 Commend the artificer, and then be thankful. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE II. Naples. A Room in 
 
 Severino's House. 
 
 Enter Calista richly habited, and Mirtilla 
 in the gown which Calista_/frj - / wore. 
 Calls. How dost thou like my gown? 
 Mirt. 'Tis rich and courtlike. 
 Calls. The dressings too are suitable ? 
 Mirt. I must say so, 
 Or you might blame my want of care. 
 
 Calls. My mother 
 
 Little dreams of my intended flight, or that 
 These are my nuptial ornaments. 
 Mirt. I hope so. 
 Calls. How dully thou reply'st ! thou dost 
 
 not envy 
 
 Adorio's noble change, or the good fortune 
 That it brings to me ? 
 
 Mirt. My endeavours that way 
 Can answer for me. 
 
 Calls. True ; you have discharged 
 | A faithful servant's duty, and it is 
 
472 
 
 THE GUARDIAN. 
 
 By me rewarded like a liberal mistress : 
 I speak it not to upbraid you with my 
 
 bounties, 
 
 Though they deserve more thanks and cere- 
 mony 
 Than you have yet express'd. 
 
 Mirt. The miseries 
 Which, from your happiness, I am sure to 
 
 suffer, 
 Restrain my forward tongue ; and, gentle 
 
 madam, 
 
 Excuse my weakness, though I do appear 
 A little daunted with the heavy burthen 
 I am to undergo : when you are safe, 
 My dangers, like to roaring torrents, will 
 Gush in upon me ; yet I would endure 
 Your mother's cruelty ; but how to bear 
 Your absence, in the very thought confounds 
 
 me. 
 Since we were children I have loved and 
 
 serv'd you ; 
 
 I willingly learned to obey, as you 
 Grew up to knowledge, that you might 
 
 command me ; 
 
 And now to be divorced from all my com- 
 forts ! 
 Can this be borne with patience ? 
 
 Calls. The necessity 
 
 Of my strange fate commands it ; but I vow- 
 By my Adorio's love, I pity thee. 
 
 Mirf. Pity me, madam ! a cold charity ; 
 You must do more, and help me. 
 
 Calis. Ha ! what said you ? 
 I must ? is this fit language for a servant ? 
 Mirt. For one that would continue your 
 
 poor servant, 
 
 And cannot live that day in which she is 
 Denied to be so. Can Mirtilla sit 
 Mourning alone, imagining those pleasures 
 Which you, this blessed Hymeneal night, 
 Enjoy in the embraces of your lord, 
 And my lord too, in being yours? (already 
 As such I love and honour him.) Shall a 
 
 stranger 
 
 Sew you in a sheet, to guard that maidenhead 
 You musf pretend to keep ; and 'twill be- 
 come you ? 
 
 Shall another do those bridal offices, 
 Which time will not permit me to remember, 
 And I pine here with envy ? pardon me, 
 I must and will be pardon 'd, for my pas- 
 sions 
 
 Are in extremes ; and use some speedy means 
 That I may go along with you, and share 
 In those delights, but with becoming dis- 
 tance ; 
 
 Or by his life, which as a saint you swear by, 
 I will discover all ! 
 
 Calis. Thou canst not be 
 
 So treacherous and cruel, in destroying 
 The building thou hast raised. 
 
 Mirt. Pray you do not tempt me, 
 For 'tis resolv'd. 
 
 Calis. I know not what to think oft. 
 In the discover}' of my secrets to her, 
 I have made my slave my mistress ; I must 
 
 sooth her, 
 There's no evasion else. [Aside.'} Prithee, 
 
 Mirtilla, 
 
 Be not so violent, I am strangely taken 
 With thy affection for me ; 'twas my puqx>se 
 To have thee sent for. 
 
 Mirt. When? 
 
 Calis. This very night ; 
 And I vow deeply I shall be no sooner 
 In the desired possession of my lord, 
 But by some of his servants I will have thee 
 Convey 'd unto us. 
 
 Mirt. Should you break ! 
 
 Calis. I dare not. 
 Come, clear thy looks, for instantly we'll 
 
 prepare 
 For our departure. 
 
 Mirt. Pray you, forgive my boldness, 
 Growing from my excess of zeal to" serve you. 
 
 Calis. I thank thee for't. 
 
 Mitt. You'll keep vour word ? 
 
 Calis. Still doubtful ! [Exit. 
 
 Mirt. Twas this I aim'd at, and leave the 
 rest to fortune. Exit, following. 
 
 SCENE III. A Room -in Adorio's House. 
 
 Enter Adorio, Camillo, Lentulo, Donate, 
 Cario, and Sen-ants. 
 
 Ador. Haste you unto my villa, and take 
 
 all 
 
 Provision along with you, and for use 
 And ornament, the shortness of the time 
 Can furnish you ; let my best plate be set 
 
 out, 
 
 And costliest hangings ; and, if t be possible, 
 With a merry dance to entertain the bride, 
 Provide an epithalamium. 
 
 Car. Trust me 
 
 For belly timber : and for a song, I have 
 A paper-blurrer, who on all occasions, 
 For all times, and all seasons, hath such 
 
 trinkets 
 
 | Ready in the deck : it is but altering 
 The names, and they will serve for any bride, 
 Or bridegroom, in the kingdom. 
 Ador. But for the dance ? 
 Car. I will make one myself, and foot it 
 
 finely ; 
 
 And summoning your tenants at my dresser, 
 Which is, indeed, my drum, make a rare 
 choice 
 
THE GUARDIAN. 
 
 473 
 
 Of the able youth, such as shall sweat suffi- 1 But may, and without loss, till he hath settled 
 ciently, I More serious occasions that import him, 
 
 And smell too, but not of amber, which, you 
 
 know, is 
 The grace of the country-hall. 
 
 Ador. About it, Carlo, 
 And look you be careful. 
 
 Car, For mine own credit, sir. 
 
 [Exeunt Cario and Servants. 
 Ador. Now, noble friends, confirm your 
 
 loves, and think not 
 
 Of the penalty of the law, that docs forbid 
 The stealing away an heir : I will secure 
 
 you, 
 And pay the breach oft. 
 
 Camil. Tell us what we shall do, 
 We'll talk of that hereafter. 
 
 Ador. Pray you be careful 
 To keep the west gate of the city open, 
 That our passage may be free, and bribe the 
 
 watch 
 
 With any sum ; this is all. 
 Don. A dangerous business ! 
 Camil. I'll make the constable, watch, 
 
 and porter drunk, 
 Under a crown. 
 Lent. And then you may pass while they 
 
 snore, 
 
 Though you had done a murder. 
 Camil. Get but your mistress, 
 And leave the rest to us. 
 
 Ador. You much engage me : 
 But I forget myself. 
 
 Camil. Pray you, in what, sir? 
 Ador. Yielding too much to my affection, 
 Though lawful now, my wounded reputation 
 
 For a day or two defer it. 
 
 Ador. You'll subscribe 
 Your hand to this ? 
 
 Camil. And justify't with my life ; 
 Presume upon't. 
 
 Ador. On, then ; you shall o'er-rule me. 
 \Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE IV. A Room in Severino's House. 
 
 Enter lolante and Calipso. 
 lol. I'll give thee a golden tongue, and 
 
 have it hung up, 
 
 Over thy tomb, for a monument. 
 Call p. I am not prepared yet 
 To leave the world ; there are many good 
 
 pranks 
 
 I must dispatch in this kind before I die : 
 And I had rather, if your honour please, 
 Have the crowns in my purse. 
 lol. Take that. 
 Calip. Magnificent lady ! 
 May you live long, and, every moon, love 
 
 change, 
 That I may have fresh employment ! you 
 
 know what 
 Remains to be done ? 
 
 lol. Yes, yes ; I will command 
 My daughter and Mirtilla to their chamber. 
 Calip. And lock them up ; such liquorish 
 
 killings are not 
 To be trusted with our cream. Ere I go, 
 
 I'll help you 
 
 To set forth the banquet, and place the can- 
 died eringoes 
 
 And honour suffer : the disgrace, in taking ' Where he may be sure to taste them ; then 
 A blow in public from Caldoro, branded undress you, 
 
 AVith the infamous mark of coward, in de- j For these things are cumbersome, when yoUi 
 
 laying should be active : 
 
 To right myself, upon my cheek grows j A thin night mantle to hide part of your 
 
 fresher ;" smock, 
 
 That's first to be consider'd. j W r ith your pearl embroider'd pantofles on 
 
 Camil. If you dare your feet, 
 
 Trust my opinion, (yet I have had j And then you are arm'd for service ! nay, 
 
 Some practice and experience in duels,) i no trifling, 
 
 You are too tender that way : can you answer j We are alone, and you know 'tis a point of 
 The debt you owe your honour till you meet j folly 
 
 Your enemy from whom you may exact it? | To be coy to eat when meat is set before 
 Hath he not left the city, and in fear you. [Exeunt. 
 
 Conceal'd himself, for aught I can imagine? 
 What would you more ? 
 Ador. I should do. 
 
 SCENE V. A Street before Severino's 
 House. 
 
 Camil. Never think on't, Enter Adorio and Servant. 
 
 'Till fitter time and place invite you to it : ) Ador. 'Tis eleven by my watch, the hour 
 I have read Caranza, and find not in his appointed. 
 
 Grammar | Listen at the door hear'st thou any stirring? 
 
 Of quarrels, that the injured man is bound ; Scrv. No, sir ; 
 To seek lor reparation at an hour ; | All's silent here. 
 
474 
 
 THE GUARDIAN. 
 
 A dor. Some cursed business keeps 
 Her mother up. I'll walk a little circle, 
 And shew where you shall wait us with the 
 
 horses, 
 And then return. This short delay afflicts 
 
 me, 
 And I presume to her it is not pleasing. 
 
 \Exeunf. 
 
 Enter Durazzo and Caldoro. 
 
 Dur. What's now to be done? prithee 
 
 let's to bed, I am sleepy ; 
 . And here's my hand on't, without more ado, 
 By fair or foul play we'll have her to-morrow 
 In thy possession. 
 
 Cald. Good sir, give me leave 
 To taste a little comfort in beholding 
 The place by her sweet presence sanctified. 
 She may perhaps, to take air, ope the case- 
 ment, 
 
 And looking out, a new star to be gazed on 
 By me with adoration, bless these eyes, 
 Ne'er happy but when she is made the object. 
 
 Dur. Is not here fine fooling ! 
 
 Cald. Thou great queen of love, 
 Or real or imagined, be propitious 
 To me, thy faithful votary ! and I vow 
 To erect a statue to thee, equal to 
 Thy picture, by Apelles' skilful hand 
 Left as the great example of his art ; 
 And on thy thigh I'll hang a golden Cupid, 
 His torches flaming, and his quiver full, 
 For further honour ! 
 
 Dur. End this waking dream, 
 And let's away. 
 
 Enter from the house Calista and Mirtilla. 
 
 Calls. Mirtilla! 
 
 Cald. 'Tis her voice ! 
 
 Calls. You heard the horses' footing? 
 
 Mirt. Certainly. 
 
 Calis. Speak low. My lord Adorio ! 
 
 Cald. I am dumb. 
 
 Dur. The darkness friend us too ! Most 
 
 honour'd madam, 
 Adorio. your servant. 
 
 Calis. As you are so, 
 I do command your silence till we are 
 Further remov'd ; and let this kiss assure you 
 (I thank the sable night that hides my 
 
 blushes) 
 I am wholly yours. 
 
 Dur. Forward, you micher ! 
 
 Mirt. Madam, 
 ! Think on Mirtilla ! {Goes into the house. 
 
 Dur. I'll not now enquire 
 The mystery of this, but bless kind fortune 
 Favouring us beyond our hopes : yet, now 
 I think on't, 
 
 I had ever a lucky hand in such smock 
 night-work. [Exeunt. 
 
 Enter Adorio and Servant. 
 
 A dor. This slowness does amaze me : 
 
 she's not alter'd 
 In her late resolution? 
 
 Ibl. \within.} Get you to bed, 
 And stir not on your life, till I command you. 
 
 Ador. Her mother's voice ! listen. 
 
 Serv. Here comes the daughter. 
 
 Re-enter Mirtilla, hastily. 
 
 Mirt. Whither shall I fly for succour ? 
 
 Ador. To these arms, 
 Your castle of defence, impregnable, 
 And not to be blown up : how your heart 
 
 beats ! 
 
 Take comfort, dear Calista, you are now 
 In his protection that will ne'er forsake you : 
 Adorio, your changed Adorio, swears 
 By your best self, an oath he dares not break, 
 He loves you, loves you in a noble way, 
 His constancy firm as the poles of heaven. 
 I will urge no reply, silence becomes you ; 
 And I'll defer the rmzsic of your voice, 
 Till we are in a place of safety. 
 
 Mirt. O blest error ! [Aside. Exeunt. 
 
 Enter Severino. 
 
 Sev. 'Tis midnight : how my fears of cer- 
 tain death, 
 Being surprised, combat with my strong 
 
 hopes 
 Raised on my chaste wife's goodness ! I am 
 
 grown 
 
 A stranger in the city, and no wonder, 
 I have too long been so unto myself : 
 
 Grant me a little truce, my troubled soul 
 
 I hear some footing, ha ! 
 
 Enter Laval and Calipso. 
 
 Calip. That is the house, 
 And there's the key : you'll find my lady 
 
 ready 
 
 To entertain you ; 'tis not fit I should 
 Stand gaping by while you bill: I have 
 
 brought you on, 
 Charge home, and come off with honour. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Sev. It makes this way. 
 Lav. I am much troubled, and know not 
 
 what to think 
 Of this design. 
 
 Sev. It still comes on. 
 Lav. The watch ! 
 1 am betray 'd. 
 
 Sev. Should I now appear fearful, 
 It would discover me ; there's no retiring. 
 
THE GUARDIAN. 
 
 475 
 
 My confidence must protect me ; I'll appear 
 As if I walk'd the round. Stand ! 
 
 Lav. I am lost. 
 
 Sev. The word ? 
 
 Lav. Pray you forbear ; I am a stranger, 
 And missing, this dark stormy night, my way 
 To my lodging, you shall do a courteous 
 
 To guide me to it. 
 
 Sev. Do you think I stand here 
 For a page or a porter ? 
 
 Lav. Good sir, grow not so high : 
 I can justify my being abroad ; I am 
 No pilfering vagabond, and what you are 
 Stands yet in supposition ; and I charge you, 
 If you are an officer, bring me before your 
 
 captain ; 
 
 For if you do assault me, though not in fear 
 Of what you can do alone, I will cry murder, 
 And raise the streets. 
 
 Sev. Before my captain, ha ! 
 And bring my head to the block. Would we 
 
 were parted, 
 I have greater cause to fear the watch than 
 
 he. 
 
 Lav. Will you do your duty ? 
 Sev, I must close with him : 
 Troth, sir, whate'er you are, (yet by your 
 
 language, 
 I guess you a gentleman,) I'll not use the 
 
 rigour 
 
 Of my place upon you : only quit this street, 
 For your stay here will be dangerous ; and 
 
 good night ! 
 Lav. The like to you, sir ; I'll grope out 
 
 my way 
 As well as I can. O damn'd bawd ! Fare 
 
 you well, sir. [Exit. 
 
 Sev. I am glad he's gone ; there is a secret 
 
 passage, 
 Unknown to my wife, through which this 
 
 key will guide me 
 
 To her desired embraces, which must be, 
 My presence being beyond her hopes, most 
 
 welcome. [Exit. 
 
 SCENE VI. A Room in Severino's House. 
 Ib'lante is heard speaking behind a curtain. 
 
 161. I am full of perplex'd thoughts. Im- 
 perious blood, 
 
 Thou only art a tyrant ; judgment, reason, 
 To whatsoever thy edicts proclaim, 
 With vassal fear subscribe against them- 
 selves. 
 
 I am yet safe in the port, and see'before me, 
 If I put off, a rough tempestuous sea, 
 The raging winds of infamy from all quarters 
 Assuring my destruction ; yet my lust 
 
 Swelling the wanton sails, (my understand- 
 ing 
 
 Stow'd under hatches, ) like a desperate pilot, 
 Commands me to urge on. My pride, my 
 
 pride, 
 
 Self-love, and over-value of myself, 
 Are justly punish'd : I, that did deny 
 My daughter's youth allow 'd and lawful 
 
 pleasures, 
 
 And would not suffer in her those desires 
 She suck'd in with my milk, now in my 
 
 waning 
 Am scorch'd and burnt up with libidinous 
 
 fire, 
 That must consume my fame ; yet still I 
 
 throw 
 More fuel on it. 
 
 Enter Severino before the curtain. 
 
 Sev. 'Tis her voice, poor turtle : 
 She's now at her devotions, praying for 
 Her banish 'd mate ; alas, that for my guilt 
 Her innocence should suffer ! But I do 
 Commit a second sin in my deferring 
 The ecstacy of joy that will transport her 
 Beyond herself, when she flies to my lips, 
 And seals my welcome. [Draws the curtain, 
 and discovers lolante seated, with a 
 rich banquet, and tapers, set forth. ] 
 lolante ! 
 
 lol. Ha! 
 Good angels guard me ! 
 
 Sev. What do I behold ! 
 Some sudden flash of lightning strike me 
 
 blind, 
 
 Or cleave the centre of the earth, that I 
 May living find a sepulchre to swallow 
 Me and my shame together ! 
 
 lol. Guilt and horror 
 
 Confound me in one instant ; thus surprised, 
 The subtilty of all wantons, though ab- 
 stracted, 
 
 Can shew no seeming colour of excuse, 
 To plead in my defence. [Aside. 
 
 Sev. Is this her mourning? 
 O killing object ! The imprison 'cl vapours 
 Of rage and sorrow make an earthquake in 
 
 me ; 
 
 This little world, like to a tottering tower, 
 Not to be underpropp'd ; yet in my fall, 
 I'll crush thee with my ruins. 
 
 [Draws a poniard. 
 
 lol. [kneeling.'] Good sir, hold : 
 For, my defence unheard, you wrong your 
 
 justice, 
 
 If you proceed to execution ; 
 And will, too late, repent it. 
 
 Sev. Thy defence ! 
 To move it, adds (could it receive addition) 
 
47 6 
 
 THE GUARDIAN. 
 
 Ugliness to the loathsome leprosy j Mirtilla ! they are disposed of, if not 
 
 That, in thy being a strumpet, hath already j murder'd, 
 
 Infected even' vein, and spreads itself j To make all sure ; and yet methinks your 
 
 Over this carrion, which would poison vul- j neighbour, 
 
 tures I Your whistle, agent, parasite, Calipso, 
 
 And dogs, should they devour it. Yet, to J Should be within call, when you hem, to 
 
 stamp 
 
 The seal of reprobation on thy soul, 
 I'll hear thy impudent lies, borrow'd from 
 
 hell, ' 
 
 And prompted by the devil, thy tutor, whore ! 
 Then send thee to him. Speak. 
 
 lol. Your Gorgon looks 
 Turn me to stone, and a dead palsy seizes 
 My silenced tongue. 
 
 Sev. O Fate, that the disease 
 Were general in women, what a calm 
 Should wretched men enjov ! Speak, and 
 
 be brief. 
 Or thou shalt suddenly feel me. 
 
 lol. Be appeased, sir, 
 Until I have deliver'd reasons for 
 This solemn preparation. 
 
 Sei'. On, I hear thee. 
 
 /<?/. With patience ask your memory ; 
 
 'twill instruct you, 
 This very day of the month, seventeen years 
 
 since, 
 You married me. 
 
 Sev. Grant it, what canst thou urge 
 From this ? 
 
 lol. That day, since your proscription, sir, 
 In the remembrance of it annually, 
 The garments of my sorrow laid aside, 
 I have with pomp observed. 
 
 Sev. Alone ! 
 
 lol. The thoughts 
 Of my felicity then, my misery now. 
 Were the invited guests ; imagination 
 Teaching me to believe that you were pre- 
 sent, 
 And a partner in it. 
 
 Sev. Rare ! this real banquet 
 To feast your fancy : fiend ! could fancy 
 drink off 
 
 These flaggons to my health, or the idle 
 
 thought, 
 
 Like Baal, devour these delicates ? the room 
 Perfumed to take his nostrils ! this loose 
 
 habit, 
 
 Which Messalina would not wear, put on 
 To fire his lustful eyes ! Wretch, am I 
 
 grown 
 
 So weak in thy opinion, that it can 
 Flatter credulity that these gross tricks 
 Maybeioistedo'n me? Where's my daughter? 
 
 where 
 The bawd your woman? answer me. 
 
 Calista ! 
 
 usher in 
 
 The close adulterer. \Lays hands on her. 
 lol. What will you do ? ' 
 Sev. Not kill thee, do not hope it ; I am 
 
 not 
 
 So near to reconcilement. Ha ! this scarf, 
 The intended favour to your stallion, now 
 Is useful : do not strive ; He binds her. 
 
 thus bound, expect 
 All studied tortures my assurance, not 
 My jealousy, thou art false, can pour upon 
 
 thee. 
 
 In darkness howl thy mischiefs ; and if rank- 
 ness 
 
 Of thy imagination can conjure 
 The ribald [hither,] glut thyself with him ; 
 " will cry A im ! and in another room 
 Determine of my vengeance. Oh, my heart- 
 strings ! \_Exit li'ith the tapers. 
 lol. Most miserable woman ! and yet 
 
 sitting 
 
 A judge in mine own cause upon myself, 
 I could not mitigate the heavy doom 
 My incens'd husband^must pronounce upon 
 
 me. 
 
 In my intents I am guilty, and for them 
 Must suffer the same punishment, as if 
 I had, in fact, offended. 
 
 Calip. [within.^ Bore my eyes out, 
 If you prove me faulty ; I'll but tell my lady 
 What caused your stay, and instantly pre- 
 sent vou. 
 
 Enter Calipso. 
 
 How's this? no lights ! What new device? 
 
 will she play 
 At blindman's-buff ? Madam ! 
 
 lol. Upon thy life, 
 Speak in a lower key. 
 
 Calip. The mystery 
 Of this, sweet lady? where are you? 
 
 lol. Here, fast bound. 
 
 Calip. By whom ? 
 
 lol. I'll whisper that into thine ear, 
 And then farewell for ever. 
 
 Calip. How ! my lord ? 
 I am in a fever : horns upon horns grow or* 
 
 him ! 
 Could he pick no hour but this to break a 
 
 bargain 
 Almost made up? 
 
 lol. What shall we do ? 
 
THE GUARDIAN. 
 
 477 
 
 Calip. Betray him ; 
 I'll instantly raise the watch. 
 
 lol. And so make me 
 For ever infamous. 
 
 Calip. The gentleman, 
 The rarest gentleman is at the door, 
 Shall he lose his labour? Since that you 
 
 must perish, 
 
 'Twill shew a woman's spleen in you to fall 
 Deservedly ; give him his answer, madam. 
 I have on the sudden in my head a strange 
 
 whim ; 
 
 But I will first unbind you. {Frees lol. 
 
 lol. Now what follows ? 
 Calip. I will supply your place ; [161. 
 
 binds Calip.] and, bound, give me 
 Your mantle, take my night-gown ; send 
 
 away 
 
 The gentleman satisfied. I know my lord 
 Wants power to hurt you, I perhaps may get 
 A kiss by the bargain, and all this may prove 
 But some neat love-trick : if he should grow 
 
 furious, 
 
 And question me, I am resolved to put on 
 An obstinate silence. Pray you dispatch the 
 
 gentleman , 
 His courage may cool. 
 
 lol. I'll speak with him, but if 
 To any base or lustful end, may mercy 
 At my last gasp forsake me ! [Exit, 
 
 Calip. I was too rash, 
 And have done what I wish undone : say he 
 
 should kill me ? 
 I have run my head in a fine noose, and I 
 
 smell 
 
 The pickle I am in ! 'las, how I shudder 
 Still more and more ! would I were a she 
 
 Priapus, 
 Stuck up in a garden to fright away the 
 
 crows, 
 So I were out of the house ! she's at her 
 
 pleasure, 
 Whate'er she said ; and I must endure the 
 
 torture 
 He comes ; I cannot pray, my fears will kill 
 
 Re-enter Severino with a knife in his hand, 
 throwing open the doors -violently. 
 
 Sev. It is a deed of darkness, and I need 
 No light to guide me ; there is something 
 
 tells me 
 
 I am too slow-paced in my wreak, and trifle 
 In my revenge. All hush'd ! no sigh nor 
 
 groan, 
 
 To witness her compunction ! can guilt sleep, 
 And innocence be open-eyed ? even now, 
 Perhaps, she dreams of the adulterer, 
 
 And in her fancy hugs him. Wake, thou 
 
 strumpet, 
 
 And instantly give up unto my vengeance 
 The villain that defiles my bed ; discover 
 Both what and where he is, and suddenly, 
 That I may bind you face to face, then sew 
 
 you 
 Into one sack, and from some steep rock 
 
 hurl you 
 
 Into the sea together ; do not play with 
 The lightning of my rage ; break stubborn 
 
 silence, 
 
 And answer my demands ; will it not be ? 
 I'll talk no longer ; thus I mark thee for 
 A common strumpet. 
 
 [Strikes at her with the knife. 
 Calip. Oh! 
 
 Scv. Thus stab these arms 
 That have stretch 'd out themselves to grasp 
 
 a stranger. 
 Calip. Oh! 
 
 Sev. This is but an induction ; I will draw 
 The curtains of the tragedy hereafter : 
 Howl on, 'tis music to me. [Exit. 
 
 Calip. He is gone. 
 A kiss and love-tricks! he hath villainous 
 
 teeth, 
 May sublimed mercury draw them ! if all 
 
 dealers 
 In my profession were paid thus, there 
 
 would be 
 A dearth of cuckolds. Oh my nose ! I had 
 
 one : 
 
 My arms, my arms ! I dare not cry for fear ; 
 Cursed desire of gold, how art thou punish'd ! 
 
 Enter lolante. 
 
 lol. Till now I never truly knew myself, 
 Nor by ail principles and lectures read 
 In chastity's cold school, was so instructed 
 As by her contrary, how base and deform 'd i 
 Loose appetite is ; as in a few short minutes ' 
 This stranger hath, and feelingly, deliver'd. 
 Oh ! that I could recall my bad intentions, 
 And be as I was yesterday, untainted 
 In my desires, as I am still in fact, 
 I thank his temperance ! I could look un- 
 daunted 
 
 Upon my husband's rage, and smile at it, 
 So strong the guards and sure defences are 
 Of armed innocence ; but I will endure 
 The penance of my sin, the only means 
 Is left to purge it. The day breaks. 
 
 Calipso ! 
 
 Calip. Here, madam, here. 
 lol. Hath my lord visited thee ? 
 Calip. Hell take such visits! these stabb'd 
 arms, and loss 
 
47 8 
 
 THE GUARDIAN. 
 
 Of my nose you left fast on, may give you a 
 
 relish 
 What a night I have had oft, and what you 
 
 had suffered, 
 Had I not supplied your place. 
 
 Idl. I truly grieve for't ; 
 Did not my husband speak to thee ? 
 
 Calip. Yes, I heard him, 
 And felt him, ecce signum, with a mischief ! 
 i But he knew not me ; like a true-bred Spartan 
 
 boy, 
 
 i With silence I endured it ; he could not get 
 ' One syllable from me. 
 
 Idl. Something may be fashion'd 
 ' From this ; invention help me ! I must be 
 sudden. {Unbinds her. 
 
 \ Thou art free, exchange, quick, quick ! now 
 
 bind me sure, 
 
 ! And leave me to my fortune. 
 Calip. Pray you consider 
 : The loss of my nose ; had I been but carted 
 
 for you, 
 ' Thougli wash'd with mire and chamber-lie, 
 
 I had 
 
 Examples to excuse me : but my nose, 
 My nose, dear lady ! 
 Idl. Get off', tH send to thee. 
 
 \Exit Calipso. 
 
 If so, it may take ; if it fail, I must 
 Suffer whatever follows. 
 
 Re-enter Severino with the knife and taper, 
 
 Sev. I have search 'd 
 In every comer of the house, yet find not 
 My daughter, nor her maid ; nor any print 
 ! Of a man's footing, which, this wet' night, 
 
 would 
 
 Be easily discern'd, the ground being soft, 
 At his coming in or going out. 
 
 lol. 'Tishe, 
 And within hearing ; heav'n forgive this 
 
 feigning, 
 
 | I being forced to't to preserve my life, 
 To be better spent hereafter ! 
 Sev. I begin 
 
 i To stagger, and my love, if it knew how, 
 ! (Her piety heretofore and fame remembered,) 
 Would plead in her excuse. 
 
 Idl. [aloud.] You blessed guardians 
 Of matrimonial faith, and just revengers 
 Of such as do in fact offend against 
 Your sacred rites and ceremonies ; by all titles 
 And holy attributes you do vouchsafe 
 To be invoked, look down with saving pity 
 Upon my matchless sufferings ! 
 
 Sev. At her devotions : 
 Affliction makes her repent. 
 
 Idl. Look down 
 Upon a wretched woman, and as I 
 
 Have kept the knot of wedlock, in the temple 
 By the priest fasten'd, firm ; (though in loose 
 
 wishes 
 
 I yield I have offended ;) to strike blind 
 The eyes of jealousy, that see a crime 
 I never yet committed, and to free me 
 From the unjust suspicion of my lord, 
 Restore my martyr'd face and wounded arms 
 To their late strength and beauty. 
 
 Sev. Does she hope 
 To be cured by miracle ? 
 
 Idl. This minute I 
 Perceive with joy my orisons heard and 
 
 granted. 
 
 You ministers of mercy, who unseen, 
 And by a supernatural means, have done 
 This work of heavenly charity, be ever 
 Canonized for't ! 
 
 Sev. I did not dream, I heard her, 
 And I have eyes too, they cannot deceive 
 
 me : 
 
 If I have no belief, in their assurance, 
 I must turn sceptic. Ha ! this is the hand, ' 
 And this the fatal instrument : these drops ; 
 Of blcod, that gush'd forth from her face : 
 
 and arms, 
 
 Still fresh upon the floor. This is some- 
 thing more 
 
 Than wonder or amazement ; I profess 
 I am astonish'd. 
 
 Idl. Be incredulous still, 
 And go on in your barbarous rage, led to it 
 By your false guide, suspicion ; have no faith 
 In my so long tried loyalty, nor believe 
 That which you see ; and for your satisfac- 
 tion, 
 
 My doubted innocence cleared by miracle, 
 Proceed ; these veins have now new blood, 
 
 if you 
 Resolve to let it out. 
 
 Sev. I would not he fool'd 
 With easiness of belief, and faintly give 
 Credit to this strange wonder ;' 'tis now 
 
 thought on : 
 
 In a fitter place and time I'll sound this 
 further. \Aside. 
 
 How can I expiate my sin ? or hope, 
 
 \Unties her. 
 Though now I write myself thy slave, the 
 
 service 
 
 Of my whole life can win thee to pronounce 
 Despair'd-of pardon ? Shall I kneel? that's 
 
 poor, 
 
 Thy mercy must urge more in my defence, 
 Than I can fancy ; wilt thou have revenge ? 
 My heart lies open to thee. 
 
 Idl. This is needless 
 To me, who in the duty of a wife, 
 Know I must suffer. 
 
THE GUARDIAN. 
 
 479' 
 
 Sev. Thou art made up of goodness, 
 And from my confidence that I am alone 
 The object of thy pleasures, until death 
 Divorce us, we will know no separation. 
 Without inquiring why, as sure thou wilt 
 
 not, 
 
 j Such is thy meek obedience, thy jewels 
 I And choicest ornaments pack'd up, thou 
 
 shalt 
 
 Along with me, and as a queen be honour'd 
 | By such as style me sovereign. Already 
 My banishment is repeal'd, thou being 
 
 present ; 
 
 The Neapolitan court a place of exile 
 When thou art absent : my stay here is 
 
 mortal, 
 
 Of which thou art too sensible, I perceive it ; 
 Come, dearest lolante, with this breath 
 All jealousy is blown away. [Embraces her. 
 161. Be constant. \Excitnt. 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 SCENE I. The Country. 
 A Noise within, as of a horse fallen ; then 
 enter Durazzo, Caldoro, and Servant, 
 with Calista in their arms. 
 Dur. Hell take the stumbling jade ! 
 Cald. Heaven help the lady ! 
 Setv. The horse hath broke his neck. 
 Dur. Would thine were crack'd too, 
 So the lady had no harm ! Give her fresh 
 
 air, 
 'Tis but a swoon. 
 
 Cald. 'Tis more, she's dead. 
 Dur. Examine 
 Her limbs if they be whole : not too high, 
 
 not too high, 
 
 You ferret ; this is no coney-burrow for you. 
 How do you find her ? 
 
 Cald. No breath of comfort, sir : too 
 
 cruel fate ! 
 
 Had 1 still pined away, and linger'd under 
 The modesty of just and honest hopes 
 After a long consumption, sleep and death 
 To me had been the same ; but now, as 
 
 'twere, 
 
 Possess'd of all my wishes, in a moment 
 To have them ravish 'd from me ! suffer 
 
 shipwreck 
 In view of the port ! and, like a half-starv'd 
 
 beggar, 
 No sooner in compassion clothed, but 
 
 coffin'd ! 
 
 Malevolent destinies, too cunning in 
 Wretched Caidoro's tortures ! O Calista, 
 If thy immortal part hath not already 
 Left this fair palace, let a beam of light 
 
 Drawn from thine eye, in this Cimmerian 
 
 darkness, 
 To guide my shaking hand to touch the- 
 
 anchor 
 
 Of hope in thy recovery. 
 Calls. Oh! 
 Dur. She lives ; 
 
 Disturb hernot : she is no right-bred woman,. 
 If she die with one fall ; some of my ac- 
 quaintance 
 
 Have ta'en a thousand merrily, and are still 
 Excellent wrestlers at the close hug. 
 
 Cald. Good sir 
 
 Dur. Prithee be not angry, I should speak- 
 thus if 
 My mother were in her place. 
 
 Cald. But had you heard 
 The music of the language which she used. 
 j To me, believed Adorio, as she rode 
 I Behind me ; little thinking that she did 
 
 Embrace Caldoro 
 
 Calls. Ah, Adorio ! 
 
 Dur. Leave talking, I conceive it. 
 
 Calis. Are you safe ? 
 
 Cald. And raised, like you, from death to 
 
 life, to hear you. 
 Calis. Hear my defence then, ere I take 
 
 my veil off, 
 A simple maid's defence, which, looking on 
 
 you, 
 
 I faintly could deliver ; willingly 
 I am become your prize, and therefore use 
 Your victory nobly ; heaven's bright eye, the 
 
 sun, 
 
 Draws up the grossest vapours, and I hope 
 I ne'er shall prove an envious cloud to> 
 
 darken 
 
 The splendour of your merits. I could urge 
 With what disdain, nay scorn, I have de- 
 clined 
 
 The shadows of insinuating pleasures 
 Tender'd by all men else, you only being 
 The object of my hopes : that cruel prince 
 To whom the olive-branch of peace is offer'd,. 
 Is not a conqueror, but a bloody tyrant, 
 If he refuse it ; nor should you wish a 
 
 triumph, 
 
 Because Calista's humble : I have said, 
 And now expect your sentence. 
 
 Dur. What a throng 
 Of clien f s would be in the court of Love, 
 Were there many such she-advocates ! Art 
 
 thou dumb? 
 Canst thou say nothing for thyself? 
 
 Cald. [Kneels.] Dear lady, 
 Open your eyes, and look upon the man, 
 The man you have elected for v our judge, 
 Kneeling to you for mercy. 
 Calis. I should know 
 
4 8o 
 
 THE GUARDIAN. 
 
 these 
 
 This voice, and something more than fear I ] Upon Adorio's, like Phoebe's shine 
 am j Gilding a crystal river ; and your lip 
 
 Deceived ; but now I look upon his face, ! Rise up in civil courtship to meet his. 
 
 I am assured I am wretched. While I bit mine with envy : yet 
 
 Dur. Why, good lady ? favours, 
 
 Hold her up, she'll fall again before her time j Howe'er my passions raged, could not pro- 
 else, voke me 
 
 The youth's a well-timber 'd youth, look on i To one act of rebellion against 
 his making ; My loyalty to you, the sovereign 
 
 His hair curl'd naturally ; he's whole-chested ; To whom I owe obedience. 
 too, Calis. My blushes 
 
 And will do his work as well, and go through ! Confess this for a truth, 
 stitch with't, Din: A flag of tnice is 
 
 As any Adorio in the world, my state on't ! i Hung out in this acknowledgement. 
 
 A chicken of the right kind ; and if he prove J Cald. I could add, 
 
 " f ' But that you may interpret what I speak 
 
 not 
 
 A cock of the game, cuckold him first, and 
 after 
 
 Make a capon of him. 
 Calis. I'll cry out a rape, 
 
 If thou unhand' me not ; would I had died 
 
 In my late trance, and never lived to know 
 
 I am betray 'd ! 
 
 Dur. To a young and active husband ! 
 
 (Jail you that treachery ? there are a shoal of 
 
 Young wenches i'the city, would vow a pil- 
 grimage 
 
 Beyond Jerusalem, to be so cheated. 
 
 To her again, you milksop ! violent storms 
 
 Are soon blown over. 
 
 Calis. How could'st thou, Caldoro, 
 
 With such a frontless impudence arm thy 
 
 hopes 
 'So far, as to believe 
 
 might consent 
 
 To this lewd practice ? have I not often told 
 
 The malice of a rival, rather than 
 My due respect to your deserts, how faintly 
 j Adorio hath return'd thanks to the bounty' 
 i Of your affection, ascribing it 
 I As a tribute to his worth, and not in you 
 ! An act of mercy : could he else, invited 
 j (As by your words I understood) to take you 
 | To his protection, grossly neglect 
 So gracious an offer, or give power 
 To Fate itself to cross him ? O, dear madam, 
 We are all the balls of time, toss'd to and 
 
 fro, 
 From the plough unto the throne, and back 
 
 again : 
 
 Under the swing of destiny mankind suffers, 
 And it appears, by an unchanged decree, 
 You were appointed mine ; wise nature al- 
 ways 
 Aiming at due proportion : and if so, 
 
 I may believe with confidence, heaven, in 
 
 pity 
 
 Of my sincere affection, and long patience, 
 Directed you, by a most blessed error, 
 j To your vow'd servant's bosom. 
 Dur. By my holidam, 
 
 thee, 
 
 Howe'er I pitied thy misplaced affection, 
 I could not answer it ; and that there was 
 A strong antipathy between our passions, 
 ^Not to be reconciled ? 
 
 Cald. Vouchsafe to hear me 
 
 With an impartial ear, and it will take from j Tickling philosophy ! 
 The rigour of your censure. Man was mark'd ' Calis. I am, sir, too weak 
 A friend, in his creation, to himself, I To argue with you ; but my stars have better, 
 
 And may with fit ambition conceive | I hope, provided for me. 
 
 The greatest blessings and the highest I Cald. If there be 
 
 honours j Disparity between us, 'tis in your 
 
 Appointed for him, if he can achieve them j Compassion to level it. 
 e way : I grant vou were ! Dur. Give fire 
 
 The right and noble way : 1 grar. . ^ _ _ . 
 
 The end of my design, but still pursued 
 
 With a becoming modesty, heaven at length j Calis. I am sensible 
 
 Being pleased, and not my arts, to further it. j Of what you have endured; but on the 
 
 To the mine, and blow her up. 
 
 Dur. Now he comes to her : on, boy ! 
 
 Cald. I have served you 
 With a religious zeal, and borne the burthen 
 Of your neglect, if I may call it so, 
 
 sudden, 
 
 With my unusual travel, and late bruise, 
 I am exceeding weary. In yon grove, 
 While I repose myself, be you my guard ; 
 
 Beyond the patience of a man : to prove this, ; My spirits with some little rest revived, 
 
 rlances '. We will consider further : for my part, 
 
 I have seen those eyes with pleasant 
 play 
 
 i You shall receive modest and gentle answers 
 
THE GUARDIAN. 
 
 481 
 
 To your demands, though shorr, perhaps, 
 
 to make you 
 Full satisfaction. 
 
 Cald. I am exalted 
 
 In the employment ; sleep secure, I'll be 
 Your vigilant centinel. 
 
 Calls. But I command you, 
 And as you hope for future grace, obey me, 
 Presume not with one stolen kiss to disturb 
 The quiet of my slumbers ; let your tem- 
 perance, 
 And not your lust, watch o'er me. 
 
 Cald. My desires 
 Are frozen, till your pity shall dissolve them. 
 
 Dur. Frozen ! think not of frost, fool, in 
 
 the dog-clays. 
 
 Remember the old adage, and make use oft, 
 Occasion's bald behind. 
 
 Calls. Is this your uncle ? 
 
 Cald. And guardian, madam : at your 
 
 better leisure, 
 When I have deserved it, you may give him 
 
 thanks 
 For his many favours to me. 
 
 Calls. He appears 
 A pleasant gentleman. 
 
 [Exeunt Caldoro and Calista. 
 
 Dur. You should find me so, 
 But that I do hate incest : I grow heavy ; 
 Sirrah, provide fresh horses ; I'll seek out 
 Some hollow tree, and dream till you return, 
 Which I charge you to hasten. 
 
 Serv. With all care, sir. \Exennt. 
 
 SCENE \\.-The Country. A Room in 
 
 Adorio's Hoiise. 
 Enter Cario, with several Villagers, 
 
 Musicians, &c. 
 
 Car. Let your eyes be rivetted to my heels, 
 and miss not 
 
 A hair's breadth of my footing ; our dance 
 has 
 
 A most melodious note, and T command you 
 
 To have ears like hares this night, for my 
 lord's honour, 
 
 And something for my worship ; your re- 
 ward is 
 
 To be drunk-blind like moles, in the wine- 
 cellar ; 
 
 And though you ne'er see after, 'tis the 
 better ; 
 
 You were born for this night's service. And, 
 do you hear, 
 
 Wire-string and cat-gut men, and strong- 
 breath'd hoboys, 
 
 For the credit of your calling, have not 
 your instruments 
 
 To tune when you should strike up ; but 
 twang it perfectly, 
 
 As you would read your neck-verse ; and 
 
 you, warbler, 
 Keep your wind pipe moist, that you may 
 
 not spit and hem, 
 When you should make division. How I 
 
 sweat ! 
 Authority is troublesome ; [A horn within.~\ 
 
 they are come, 
 
 I know it by the cornet that I placed 
 On the hill to give me notice : marshal 
 
 yourselves 
 I'the rear ; the van is yours. 
 
 Enter Adorio, Mirtilla, Camillo, Dentulo, 
 and Donato 
 
 Now chant it sprightly. 
 SONG, between Juno and Hymen. 
 
 Juno to the Bride. 
 Enter a maid ; but made a bride, 
 
 Be bold, and freely taste 
 The marriage banquet, ne'er denied 
 
 To such as sit down chaste. 
 Though he unloose thy virgin zone, 
 
 Presumed against ihy will, 
 Those joys reserved to him alone, 
 Thou art a virgin still. 
 
 Hymen to the Bridegroom. 
 Hail, bridegroom, hail! thy choice thusmade t 
 
 As thou wouldst have her true, 
 Thou must give o'er thv wanton trade, 
 
 And bid loose fires adieu. 
 That husband -who would have his wife 
 
 To him continue chaste, 
 In her embraces spends his life. 
 
 And makes abroad no waste. 
 
 Hymen and]uno. 
 
 Sport then like turtles, and bring forth 
 
 Such pledges as may be 
 Assurance of the father's worth, 
 
 And mother's purity. 
 Juno doth bless the nuptial bed ; 
 
 Thus Hymen's torches burn. 
 Live long, and may, when both are dead, 
 
 Your ashes fill one urn ! 
 
 Ador. A well-penn'd ditty. 
 Camil. Not ill sung. 
 
 Ador. What follows ? \to the dancers. 
 Car. Use your eyes. If ever now your 
 master-piece ! 
 
 A DANCE. 
 
 Ador. Tis well perform'd ; take that, but 
 
 not from me, 
 Tis your new lady's bounty, thank her 
 
 for it ; 
 All that I have is hers. 
 
 1 1 
 
THE GUARDIAN. 
 
 Car. I must have three shares 
 For my pains and properties, the rest shall 
 
 be 
 Divided equally. 
 
 [Exeunt Cario, Villagers, &c. 
 
 Mirt. My real fears 
 
 Begin, and soon my painted comforts vanish, 
 In my discovery. 
 
 A dor. Welcome to your own ! 
 You have (a wonder in a woman) kept 
 Three long hours silence ; and the greater, 
 
 holding 
 "Your own choice in your arms ; a blessing 
 
 for which 
 
 I will be thankful to you : nay, unmask, 
 And let mine eye and ears together feast, 
 Too long by you kept empty. Oh, you want 
 Your woman's help, I'll do her office for you. 
 \Takes off her mask. 
 Mirtilla ! 
 
 Camil. It is she, and wears the habit 
 In which Calista three days since appeared, 
 As she came from the temple. 
 
 Lent. All this trouble 
 For a poor waiting-maid ! 
 
 Don. We are grossly gull'd. 
 
 A dor. Thou child of impudence, answer 
 
 me, and truly, 
 -Or, though the tongues of angels pleaded 
 
 mercy, 
 Tortures shall force it from thee. 
 
 Mirt. Innocence 
 
 Is free, and open-breasted ; of what crime 
 Stand I accused, my lord? 
 
 Ador. What crime ! no language 
 -Can speak it to the height ; I shall become 
 Discourse for fools and drunkards. How 
 
 was this 
 Contrived? who help'd thee in the plot? 
 
 discover. 
 Were not Calista's aids in't? 
 
 .\firf. No, on my life ; 
 Nor am I faulty. 
 
 Ador. No ! What May-game's this? 
 Didst thou treat with me for thy mistress' 
 
 favours, 
 To make sale of thine own? 
 
 Mirt. With her and you 
 I have dealt faithfully : you had her letter 
 With the jewel I presented : she received 
 Your courteous answer, and prepared herself 
 To be removed by you : and howsoever 
 You take delight to hear what you have done, 
 From my simplicity, and make my weakness 
 The subject of your mirth, as it suits well 
 With my condition, I know you have her 
 In your possession. 
 
 Ador. How ! has she left 
 Her mother's house? 
 
 Mirt. You drive this nail too far. 
 Indeed she deeply vow'd, at her departure, 
 To send some of your lordship's servants for 
 
 me, 
 (Though you were pleased to take the pains 
 
 yourself,) 
 
 That I might still be near her, as a shadow 
 To follow her, the substance. 
 
 Ador. She is gone then ? 
 
 Mirt. This is too much ; but, good my 
 
 lord, forgive me, 
 I come a virgin hither to attend 
 My noble mistress, though I must confess, 
 I look with sore eyes upon her good fortune, 
 And wish it were mine own. 
 
 Ador. Then, as it seems, 
 You do yourself affect me ? 
 
 Mirt. Should she hear me, 
 And in her sudden fury kill me for't, 
 I durst not, sir, deny it ; since you are 
 A man so form'd, that not poor I alone, 
 But all our sex like me, I think, stand bound 
 To be enamour'd of you. 
 
 Ador. O my fate ! 
 
 How justly am I punish'd, in thee punish'd, 
 For my defended wantonness ! I, that scorn'd 
 The mistress when she sought me, now I 
 
 would 
 
 Upon my knees receive her, am become 
 A prey unto her bondwoman, my honour too 
 Neglected for this purchase. Art thou one of 
 
 those 
 
 Ambitious servingwomen, who, contemning 
 The embraces of their equals* aim to be 
 The wrong way ladyfied, by a lord? was there 
 No forward page or footman in the city, 
 To do the feat, that in thy lust I am chosen 
 To be the executioner? dar'st thou hope 
 I can descend so low ? 
 
 Mirt. Great lords sometimes 
 For change leave calver'd salmon, and </at 
 
 sprats : 
 In modesty I dare speak no more. 
 
 Camil. If 'twere 
 A fish-day, though you like it not, I could 
 
 say 
 
 I have a stomach, and would content myself 
 With this pretty whiting-mop. 
 
 Ador. Discover yet 
 How thou cam'st to my hands. 
 
 Mirt. My lady gone", 
 Fear of her mother's rage, she being found 
 
 absent, 
 
 Moved me to fly ; and quitting of the house, 
 You were pleased, unask'd, to comfort me ; 
 
 (I used 
 
 No sorceries to bewitch you ;) then vouch- 
 safed 
 (Thanks ever to the darkness of the night !) 
 
THE GUARDIAN. 
 
 483 
 
 To hug me in your arms ; and I had wrong'd 
 My breeding near the court, had I refused it. 
 
 Ador. This is still more bitter. Canst thou 
 
 guess to whom 
 Thy lady did commit herself? 
 
 .I/ iff. They were 
 Horsemen, as you are. 
 
 Ador. In the name of wonder, 
 How could they pass the port, where you 
 
 expected 
 My coining? 
 
 'Camil. Now I think upon't, there came 
 Three mounted by, and, behind one, a 
 
 woman 
 Embracing fast the man that rode before her. 
 
 Lent. I knew the men ; but she was veil'd. 
 
 . I dor. What were they? 
 
 Lent. The first the lord Durazzo, and the 
 
 second, 
 
 Your rival, young Caldoro ; it was he 
 That carried the wench behind him. 
 
 Don. The last a servant, 
 That spurr'd fast after them. 
 
 A dor. Worse and worse ! 'twas she ! 
 Too much assurance of her love undid me. 
 Why did you not stay them ? 
 
 Don. We had no such commission. 
 
 Camil. Or say we had, who durst lay 
 
 fingers on 
 The angry old ruffian? 
 
 Lent. For my part, I had rather 
 Take a baited bull by the horns. 
 
 Ador. You are sure friends 
 For a man to build on ! 
 
 Camil. They are not far off, 
 Their horses appear'd spent too ; let's take 
 
 fresh ones, 
 
 And coast the country ; ten to one we find 
 them. 
 
 Ador. I will not eat nor sleep, until I have 
 
 them : 
 Moppet, you shall along too. 
 
 Mirt. So you please 
 
 I may keep rny place behind you, I'll sit fast, 
 And ride with you all the world o'er. 
 
 Camil. A good girl ! {Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE III. Naples. A Street. 
 
 Enter Laval and Calipso. 
 Lav. Her husband ? Severino ? 
 Calip. You may see 
 
 His handy work by my flat face ; no bridge 
 Left to support my organ, if I had one : 
 The comfort is, I am now secure from the 
 
 crincomes, 
 
 I can lose nothing that way. 
 Lav. Dost thou not know 
 What became of the lady? 
 
 Calip. A nose was enough to part with, 
 
 I think, in the service ; I durst stay no 
 
 longer : 
 
 But I am full assured the house is empty, 
 Neither poor lady, daughter, servant left 
 
 there. 
 I only guess he hath forced them to 'go with 
 
 him 
 To the dangerous forest, where he lives like 
 
 a king, 
 Among the banditti ; and how there he hath 
 
 used them, 
 Is more than to be fear'd. 
 
 Lav. I have play'd the fool, 
 And kept myself too long conceal'd, sans 
 
 question, 
 
 With the danger of her life. Leave me- 
 the king ! 
 
 Enter Alphonso and Captain. 
 
 Calip. The surgeon must be paid. 
 
 Lav. Take that. [Gives her money. 
 
 Calip. I thank you ; 
 I have got enough by my trade, and I will 
 
 build 
 
 An hospital only for noseless bawds, 
 ('Twill speak my charity,) and be myself 
 The governess of the sisterhood. {Exit. 
 
 Alph. I may 
 
 Forget this in your vigilance hereafter ! 
 But as I am a king, if you provoke me 
 The second time with negligence of this kind, ! 
 You shall deeply smart for't. 
 
 Lav. The king's moved. 
 
 Alph. To suffer 
 
 A murderer, by us proscribed, at his pleasure j 
 To pass and repass through our guards ! 
 
 Capt. Your pardon 
 
 For this, my gracious lord, binds me to be ' 
 More circumspect hereafter. 
 
 Alph. Look you be so : 
 Monsieur Laval, you were a suitor to me 
 For Severino's pardon. 
 
 Lav. I was so, my good lord. 
 
 Alph. You might have met him here, to j 
 
 have thank'd you for't, 
 As now I understand. 
 
 Lav. So it is rumour'd ; 
 And hearing in the city of his boldness, 
 I would not say contempt of your decrees, ! 
 As then I pleaded mercy, under pardon, 
 I now as much admire the slowness of 
 Your justice (though it force you to some 
 
 trouble) 
 In fetching him in. 
 
 Alph. I have considcr'd it. 
 
 Lav. He hath of late, as 'tis suspected, 
 
 done 
 
 An outrage on his wife, forgetting nature 
 To his own daughter ; in whom, sir, I have 
 
 112 
 
484 
 
 THE GUARDIAN. 
 
 Some nearer interest than I stand bound to 
 In my humanity, which I gladly would 
 Make known unto your highness. 
 
 Alph. Go along, 
 
 You shall have opportunity as we walk : 
 See you what I committed to your charge, 
 In readiness, and without noise. 
 
 Capt. I shall, sir. {Exeunt. 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 SCENE I. The Forest. 
 
 Enter Claudio and all the Banditti, making 
 a guard ; Severino and lolante with 
 oaken-leaved garlands ; Singers. 
 
 SONG, Entertainment of the Forest's Queen 
 
 Welcome, thrice welcome to this shady green, 
 Our long-wish' d Cynthia, the forest ' s queen, 
 The trees begin to bud, the glad birds sing 
 In winter, changed by her into the spring. 
 We know no night, 
 Perpetual light 
 
 Dawns front your eye. 
 You being near. 
 We cannot fear. 
 
 Though Death stood by. 
 From you our r&ords take edge, our hearts 
 
 grow bold ; 
 From you in fee their lives your liegemen 
 
 hold. 
 These groves your kingdom, and our law 
 
 your will ; 
 
 Smile, and we spare ; but if you frown, we 
 kill. 
 
 Bless then the hour 
 That gives the power 
 In which yon m-ay, 
 At bed and board. 
 Embrace your lord 
 
 Both night and day. 
 
 Welcome, thrice welcome to this shady green t 
 Our long-wished Cynthia, the forest's queen / 
 
 Sci'. Here, as a queen, share in my sove- 
 reignty : 
 
 The iron toils pitch'd by the law to take 
 
 The forfeiture of my life, I have broke 
 through, 
 
 And secure in the guards of these few 
 subjects, 
 
 Smile at Alphonso's fury ; though I grieve 
 for 
 
 The fatal cause, in your good brother's loss, 
 
 That does compel me to this course. 
 Idl. Revive not 
 
 A sorrow long since dead, and so diminish 
 
 The full fruition of those joys, which now 
 I stand possess'd of: womanish fear of 
 
 danger 
 
 That may pursue us, I shake off, and with 
 A masculine spirit. 
 
 Sev. 'Tis well said. 
 
 Idl. In you, sir, 
 
 I live ; and when, or by the course of nature,. 
 Or violence, you must fall, the end of my 
 Devotions is, that one and the same hour 
 May make us fit for heaven. 
 
 Sev. I join with you 
 In my votes that way : but how, lolante, 
 You that have spent your past days, slum- 
 bering in 
 
 The down of quiet, can endure the hardness 
 And rough condition of our present being, 
 Does much disturb me. 
 
 Idl. These woods, Severino, 
 Shall more than seem to me a populous city,. 
 You being present ; here are no allurements 
 To tempt my frailty, nor the conversation 
 Of such whose choice behaviour, or dis- 
 course, 
 May nourish jealous thoughts. 
 
 Sev. True, lolante; 
 Nor shall suspected chastity stand in need 
 
 here, 
 To be clear'd by miracle. - 
 
 Idl. Still on that string ! 
 Tt yields harsh discord. 
 
 Sez>. I had forgot myself, 
 And wish I might no more remember it. 
 The day wears, sirs, without one prize 
 
 brought in 
 
 As tribute to your queen : Claudio, divide 
 Oursquadron in small parties, let them watch. 
 All passages, that none escape without 
 The payment of our customs. 
 
 Claud. Shall we bring in 
 The persons, with the pillage? 
 
 Sev. By all means ; 
 Without reply, about it : we'll retire 
 
 '{Exeunt Claudio and Hie rest* 
 Into my cave, and there at large discourse 
 Our fortunes past, and study some apt means 
 To find our daughter ; since, she well dis- 
 posed of, 
 Our happiness were perfect. 
 
 Idl. We must wait 
 With patience heaven's pleasure. 
 
 Sev. 'Tis my purpose. ' Exeunt* 
 
 SCENE II. Another part of the forest. 
 Enter Lentulo and Camillo. 
 
 Lent. Let the horses graze, they are spent- 
 Camil. I am sure I'm sleepy, 
 And nodded as I rode : here was a jaunt 
 
THE GUARDIAN. 
 
 485 
 
 I' the dark through thick and thin, and all 
 
 to no purpose ! 
 What a dulness grows upon me ! 
 
 Lent. I can hardly 
 Hold ope mine eyes to say so. How did we 
 
 lose 
 Adorio? [They sit down. 
 
 Camil. He, Donate, and the wench, 
 That cleaves to him like birdlime, took the 
 
 right hand : 
 
 But this place is our rendezvous. 
 Lent. No matter, 
 
 We'll talk of that anon heigh ho ! 
 
 [Falls asleep. 
 Camil. He's fast already. 
 Lentulo ! I'll take a nap too. 
 
 [Falls asleep. 
 
 Enter Adorio, Mirtilla, and Donato. 
 
 A dor. Was ever man so crost ? 
 
 Mirt. So blest ; this is 
 The finest wild-goose chase ! [Aside. 
 
 Ador. What's that you mutter ? 
 
 Mirt. A short prayer, that you may find 
 
 your wish'd-for love, 
 Though I am lost for ever. 
 
 Don. Pretty fool ! 
 Who have we here ? 
 
 Ador. This is Camillo. 
 
 Mirt. This signior Lentulo. 
 
 Ador. Wake them. 
 
 Don. They'll not stir, 
 Their eyelids are glued, and mine too : by 
 
 your favour, 
 I'll follow their example. [Lies down. 
 
 Ador. Are you not weary ? 
 
 Mirt. I know not what the word means, 
 
 while I travel 
 To do you service. 
 
 Ador. You expect to reap 
 The harvest of your flattery , but your hopes 
 Will be blasted, I assure you. 
 
 Mirt. So you give leave 
 To sow it, as in me a sign of duty, 
 Though you deny your beams of gracious 
 
 favour 
 To ripen it, with patience I shall suffer. 
 
 Ador. No more ; my resolution to find 
 Calista, by what accident lost I know not, 
 Binds me not to deny myself what nature 
 Exacteth from me : to walk alone afoot 
 .(For my horse is tired) were madness, I must 
 
 sleep. 
 You could lie down too? 
 
 Mirt. Willingly ; so you please 
 To use me 
 
 Ador. Use thee ! 
 
 Mirt. As your pillow, sir ; 
 I dare presume no further. Noble sir, 
 
 Do not too much contemn me ; generous feet 
 Spurn not a fawning spaniel. 
 
 Ador. Well ; sit down. 
 
 Mirt. I am ready, sir. 
 
 Ador. So nimble ! 
 
 Mirt. Love is active, 
 
 Ncr would I be a slow thing : rest secure, sir ; 
 On my maidenhead, I'll not ravish you. 
 
 Ador. For once, 
 So far I'll trust you. 
 
 [Lays his head on her lap. 
 
 Mirt. All the joys of rest 
 Dwell on your eyelids ; let no dream disturb 
 Your soft and gentle slumbers ! I cannot sing, 
 But I'll talk you asleep ; and I beseech you 
 Be not offended, though I glory in 
 My being thus employ 'd ; a happiness 
 That stands for more than ample satisfaction 
 For all I have or can endure. He snores, 
 And does not hear me ; would his sense of 
 feeling 
 
 Were bound up too ! I should 1 am all 
 
 fire. 
 
 Such heaps of treasure offer'd as a prey, 
 Would tempt a modest thief; I can no longer 
 Forbear I'll gently touch his lips, and leave 
 No print of mine : [Kisses him.'} ah ! I 
 
 have heard of nectar, 
 But till now never tasted it ; these rubies 
 Are not clouded by my breath : if once again 
 I steal from such a full exchequer, trifles 
 Will not be miss'd ; [Kisses him again.~\ 
 
 I am entranced : our fancy, 
 Some say, in sleep works stronger ; I will 
 
 prove 
 How far my [Falls asleep. 
 
 Enter Durazzo. 
 
 Dur. My bones ache, 
 I am exceeding cold too ; I must seek out 
 A more convenient truckle-bed. Ha ! do I 
 
 dream ? 
 
 No, no, I wake. Camillo, Lentulo, 
 Donato this, and, as I live, Adorio 
 In a handsome wench's lap ! a whoreson ! 
 
 you are 
 
 The best accommodated. I will call 
 My nephew and his mistress to this pageant ; 
 The object may perhaps do more upon her, 
 Than all Caldoro's rhetoric. With what 
 Security they sleep ! sure Mercury 
 Hath travell'd this way with his charming- 
 rod. 
 Nephew ! Calista ! Madam ! 
 
 Enter Caldoro and Calista. 
 Cald. Here, sir. Is 
 Your man return 'd with horses? 
 
4 86 
 
 THE GUARDIAN. 
 
 Dur. No, boy, no ; 
 But here are some you thought not of. 
 Calis. Adorio ! 
 
 Dur. The idol that you worshipped. 
 Calis. This Mirtilla ! 
 I am made a stale. 
 
 Dur. I knew 'twould take. [Aside. 
 
 Calis. False man ! 
 But much more treacherous woman ! 'Tis 
 
 apparent, 
 
 They jointly did conspire against my weak- 
 ness, 
 
 And credulous simplicity, and have 
 Prevail'd against it. 
 
 Cald. I'll not kill them sleeping ; 
 But, if you please, I'll wake them first, and 
 
 after 
 
 Offer them as a fatal sacrifice, 
 To your just anger. 
 
 Dur. You are a fool ; reserve 
 Your blood for better uses. 
 
 Calis. My fond love 
 Is changed to an extremity of hate ; 
 His very sight is odious. 
 
 Dur. I have thought of 
 A pretty punishment for him and his com- 
 rades, 
 Then leave him to his harlotry ; if she 
 
 prove not 
 Torture enough, hold me an ass. Their 
 
 horses 
 Are not far off, I'll cut the girths and 
 
 bridles, 
 Then turn them into the wood ; if they can 
 
 run, 
 Let them follow us as footmen. Wilt thou 
 
 fight 
 For what's thine own already ! 
 
 Calls. In his hat 
 He wears a jewel, which this faithless 
 
 strumpet, 
 
 As a salary of her lust, deceived me of ; 
 He shall not keep't to my disgrace, nor 
 
 will I 
 Stir till I have it. 
 
 Dur. I am not good at nimming ; 
 And yet that shall not hinder us : by your 
 
 leave, sir ; 
 
 Tis restitution : pray you all bear witness 
 I do not steal it ; here' 'tis. 
 
 Takes off Adorio's hat, and removes 
 the jewel, which he gives to Calista. 
 Calis. Take it, not 
 
 As a mistress' favour, but a strong assurance 
 I am your wife. [Gives it to Caldoro. 
 
 Cald. O heaven ! 
 Dur. Pray in the church. 
 
 Let us away. 
 
 not 
 
 Nephew, a word ; have you 
 
 Been billing in the brakes, ha ! and so de- 
 
 serv'd 
 
 This unexpected favour? 
 Cald. You are pleasant. 
 
 Exeunt Durazzo, Caldoro, and Calista^ 
 Ador. As thou art a gentleman, kill me- 
 not basely ; [Starts up ; the rest fiivake, 
 Give me leave to draw my sword. 
 Camil. Ha ! what's the matter ? 
 Lent. He talk'd ofs sword. 
 Don. I see no enemy near us, 
 That threatens danger. 
 
 Mirt. Sure 'twas but a dream. 
 
 Ador. A fearful one. Meth ought Cal- 
 
 doro's sword 
 
 Was at my throat, Calista frowning by, 
 Commanding him, as he desired her fa- 
 vour, 
 To strike my head off. 
 
 Camil. Mere imagination 
 Of a disturbed fancy. 
 
 Mirt. Here's your hat, sir. 
 Ador. But where's my jewel? 
 Camil. By all likelihood lost, 
 This troublesome night. 
 
 Don. I saw it when we came 
 Unto this place. 
 
 Mirt. I look'd upon't myself, 
 When you reposed. 
 
 Ador. What is become of it ? 
 Restore it, for thou hast it ; do not put 
 
 me 
 
 To the trouble to search you. 
 Mirt. Search me ! 
 A dor. You have been, 
 Before your lady gave you entertainment, 
 i A night-walker in the streets. 
 Mitt. How, my good lord ! 
 Ador. Traded in picking pockets, when 
 
 tame gulls, 
 Charm "d with your prostituted flatteries, 
 Deign'd to embrace you. 
 
 Mirt. Love, give place to anger. 
 Charge me with theft, and prostituted 
 
 baseness ! 
 Were you a judge, nay more, the king, thus 
 
 urged, 
 
 To your teeth I would say, 'tis false. 
 Ador. This will not do. 
 Camil. Deliver it in private. 
 Mirt. You shall be 
 In public hang'd first, and the whole gang 
 
 of you. 
 
 I steal what I presented ! 
 Lent. Do not strive. 
 
 Ador. Though thou hast swallow 'd it, 
 I'll rip thy entrails, 
 
 But I'll recover it. 
 Mirt. Help, help ! 
 
 [Seises ho 
 
THE GUARDIAN. 
 
 487 
 
 Claudio and two Banditti rush upon them 
 iv i th pistols. 
 
 A dor. A new plot ! 
 
 Claud. Forbear, libidinous monsters ! if 
 
 you offer 
 
 The least resistance, you are dead. If one 
 
 But lay his hand upon his sword, shoot all. 
 
 A if Jr. Let us fight for what we have, and 
 
 if you can 
 Win it, enjoy it. 
 
 Claud. We come not to try 
 Your valour, but for your money ; throw 
 
 down your sword, 
 
 Or I'll begin with you : so ! if you will 
 Walk quietly without bonds, you may, if not 
 We'll force you. [Fear not,] thou shalt 
 
 have no wrong, 
 But justice against these. \To Mirtilla. 
 
 1 Ban. We'll teach you, sir, 
 
 To meddle with wenches in our walks. 
 
 2 Ban. It being 
 Against our canons. 
 
 Camil. Whither will you lead us? 
 Claud. You shall know that hereafter. 
 Guard them sure. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE III. Another part of the Forest. 
 Enter Alphonso disguised as an old Man, 
 
 Laval and Captain. 
 Alph. Are all the passages stopp'd ? 
 Capt. And strongly mann'd ; 
 They must use wings, and fly, if they escape 
 
 us. 
 
 Lav. But why, great sir, you should ex- 
 pose your person 
 
 To such apparent danger, when you may 
 Have them brought bound before you, is 
 
 beyond 
 My apprehension. 
 
 Alph. I am better arm'd 
 Than you suppose : besides, it is confirm 'd 
 By all that have been robb'd, since Severino 
 Commanded these banditti, (though it be 
 Unusual in Italy,) imitating 
 The courteous English thieves, for so they 
 
 call them, 
 They have not done one murder : I must 
 
 add too, 
 
 That, from a strange relation I have heard 
 Of Severino's justice, in disposing 
 The preys brought in, I would be an eye- 
 witness 
 
 Of what I take up now but on report : 
 And therefore 'tis my pleasure that we should, 
 As soon as they encounter us, without 
 A shew of opposition, yield. 
 
 Lav. Your will 
 Is not to be disputed. 
 
 Alph. You have placed 
 Your ambush so, that, if there be occasion, 
 They suddenly may break in ? 
 
 Capt. My life upon't. 
 
 Alph. We cannot travel far, but we shall 
 
 meet 
 With some of these good fellows ; and be 
 
 sure 
 You do as I command you, 
 
 Lav. Without fear, sir. {Exeunt.. 
 
 SCENE IV. Another part of the Forest. 
 Enter Severino and lolante. 
 
 Sev. 'Tis true; I did command Calista 
 
 should not, 
 
 Without my knowledge and consent, assisted 
 By your advice, be married ; but your 
 Restraint, as you deliver it, denying 
 A grown-up maid the modest conversation 
 Of men, and warrantable pleasures, relish'd 
 Of too much rigour, which, no doubt, hath, 
 
 driven her 
 To take some desperate course. 
 
 lol. What then I did 
 Was, in my care, thought best. 
 
 Sev. So I conceive it ; 
 But where was your discretion to forbid 
 Access, and fit approaches, when you knew 
 Her suitors noble, either of which I would 
 Have wish'd my son-in-law ? Adorio, 
 However wild, a young man of good parts,. 
 But better fortunes : his competitor, 
 Caldoro, for his sweetness of behaviour, 
 Staidness, and temperance, holding the first 
 
 place 
 
 Amongthegallants most observed in Naples ; 
 His own revenues of a large extent, 
 But in the expectation of his uncle 
 And guardian's entradas, by the course 
 Of nature to descend on him, a match 
 For the best subject's blood, I except none 
 Of eminence in Italy. 
 
 lol. Your wishes, 
 
 Howe'er a while delay'd, are not, I hope, 
 Impossibilities. 
 
 Sev. Though it prove so, 
 Yet 'tis not good to give a check to fortune,. 
 When she comes smiling to us. Hark ! this 
 cornet [Cornet within. 
 
 Assures us of a prize ; there sit in state, 
 'Tis thy first tribute. 
 
 lol. Would we might enjoy 
 Our own as subjects ! 
 
 Sev. What's got by the sword, 
 Is better than inheritance : all those king- 
 doms 
 
 Of Alexander were, by force, extorted, 
 Though gilded o'er with glorious styles of 
 conquest : 
 
488 
 
 THE GUARDIAN. 
 
 His victories but royal robberies, 
 
 And his true definition a thief, 
 
 When circled with huge navies, to the terror 
 
 Of such as plough'd the ocean, as the pirate, 
 
 Who, from a narrow creek, puts off for 
 
 prey 
 In a small pinnace : [Cornet within.] 
 
 From a second place 
 New spoil brought in ! [Cornet within.] 
 
 from a third party ! brave ! 
 This shall be register 'd a day of triumph, 
 Design 'd by fate to honour fhee. 
 
 Enter Claudio. 
 
 Welcome, Claudio ! 
 Good booty, ha? 
 
 Enter at different sides, various parties of 
 the Banditti ; one with Adorio, Lentulo, 
 Donato, Camillo, Mirtilla ; another -with 
 Durazzo, Caldoro, Calista; and the rest 
 with Alphonso, Laval, and Captain. 
 
 Claud. Their outsides promise so ; 
 But yet they have not made discovery 
 Of what they stand possest of. 
 
 Sev. Welcome all; 
 Good boys ! you have done bravely, if no 
 
 blood 
 Be shed in the service. 
 
 i Ban. On our lives, no drop, sir. 
 
 Sev . 'Tis to my wish. 
 
 Idl. My lord! 
 
 Sev. No more ; I know them. 
 
 Jo I. My daughter, and her woman too ! 
 
 Sev. Conceal 
 Your joys. 
 
 Dur. Fallen in the devil's mouth ! 
 
 Calis. My father, 
 And mother ! to what fate am I reserved ? 
 
 Cald. Continue mask'd ; or grant that 
 
 you be known, 
 
 From whom can you expect a gentle sen- 
 tence, 
 If you despair a father's ? 
 
 A dor. I perceive now 
 Which way I lost my jewel. 
 
 JI//V/. I rejoice 
 I'm clear'd from theft ; you have done me 
 
 wrong, but I, 
 Unask'd, forgive you. 
 
 Dur. 'Tis some comfort yet, 
 The rivals, men and women, friends and 
 
 foes, are 
 Together in one toil. 
 
 Sev. You all look pale, 
 And by your private whisperings and soft 
 
 murmurs, 
 
 Express a general fear : pray you shake it off : 
 For understand you are not fallen into 
 
 The hands of a Busiris or a Cacus, 
 Delighted more in blood than spoil, but 
 
 given up 
 
 To the power of an unfortunate gentle- 
 man, 
 
 Not born to these low courses, howsoever 
 My fate, and just displeasure of the king, 
 Design'd me to it : you need not to doubt 
 A sad captivity here, and much less fear, 
 For profit, to be sold for slaves, then shipp'd 
 Into another country ; in a word, 
 You know the proscribed Severino, he, 
 Not unacquainted, but familiar with 
 The most of you. Want in myself I know 
 
 not ; 
 
 But for the pay of these my squires, who eat 
 Their bread with danger purchased, and 
 
 must be 
 
 With others' fleeces clothed, or live exposed 
 To the summer's scorching heat and winter's 
 
 cold; 
 
 To these, before you be compell'd, (a word 
 I speak with much unwillingness, ) deliver 
 Such coin as you are furnish 'd with. 
 
 Dur. A fine method ! 
 This is neither begging, borrowing, nor 
 
 robbery ; 
 Yet it hath a twang of all of them : but one 
 
 word, sir. 
 
 Sev. Your pleasure. 
 Dur. When we have thrown down our 
 
 muck, 
 What follows? 
 
 Sev. Liberty, with a safe convoy, 
 To any place you choose. 
 
 Dur. By this hand, you are 
 A fair fraternity! for once I'll be 
 The first example to relieve your convent. 
 There's a thousand crowns, my vintage, 
 
 harvest, profits, 
 
 Arising from my herds, bound in one bag, 
 Share it among you. 
 
 Sev. You are still the jovial, 
 And good Durazzo. 
 
 Dur. To the offering ; nay, 
 No hanging an a , this is their wedding- 
 day : 
 What you must do spite of your hearts, do 
 
 freely 
 
 For your own sakes. 
 Camil. There's mine. 
 Lent. Mine. 
 Don. All that I have. 
 Cald. This, to preserve my jewel. 
 Ador. Which I challenge : 
 Let me have justice, for my coin I care not. 
 Lav. I will not weep for mine. 
 Capt. Would it were more. 
 
 [ They all thrtnv down their purses. 
 
r 
 
 THE GUARDIAN. 
 
 489 
 
 Sev. Nay, you are privileged ; but why, 
 
 old father, (To the King. 
 
 Art thou so slow ? thou hast one foot in the 
 
 grave, 
 
 And, if desire of gold do not increase 
 With thy expiring lease of life, thou shouldst 
 Be forwardest. 
 
 A Ip ft. In what concerns myself, 
 I do acknowledge it ; and I should lie, 
 A vice I have detested from my youth, 
 If I denied my present store, since what 
 I have about me now weighs down in value, 
 Almost a hundred fold, whatever these 
 Have laid before you : see ! I do groan 
 under [ Throws down three bags. 
 
 The burthen of my treasure : nay, 'tis gold ; 
 And if your hunger of it be not sated 
 With what already I have shewn unto you, 
 Here's that shall glut it. In this casket are 
 Inestimable jewels, diamonds 
 Of such a piercing lustre, as struck blind 
 The amazed lapidary, while he labour'd 
 
 [Opens the casket. 
 
 To honour his own art in setting them : 
 Some orient pearls too, which the queen of 
 
 Spain 
 
 Might wear as ear-rings, in remembrance of 
 The day that she was crown'd. 
 
 Sev. The spoils, I think, 
 Of both the Indies ! 
 
 Dur. The great sultan's poor, 
 If parallel'd with this Crcesus. 
 Sev. Why dost thou weep ? 
 Alph. From a most fit consideration of 
 My poverty ; this, though restored, will not 
 Serve my occasions. 
 Sev. Impossible ! 
 Dur. May be he would buy his passport 
 
 up to heaven ; 
 And then this is too little ; though, in the 
 
 journey, 
 
 It were a good viaticum. 
 Alph. I would make it 
 A means to help me thither : not to wrong 
 
 you 
 
 With tedious expectation, I'll discover 
 What my wants are, and yield my reasons 
 
 for them. 
 
 I have two sons, twins, the true images 
 Of what I was at their years ; never father 
 Had fairer or more promising hopes in his 
 Posterity : but, alas ! these sons, ambitious 
 Of glittering honour, and an after-name, 
 Achieved by glorious, and yet pious actions, 
 (For such were their intentions,) put to sea : 
 They had a well-rigg'd bottom, fully mann'd, 
 An old experienced master, lusty sailors, 
 Stout landmen, and what's something more 
 than rare, 
 
 They did agree, had one design, and that was 
 In charity to redeem the Christian slaves 
 Chain'd in the Turkish servitude. 
 Sev. A brave aim ! 
 
 Dur. A most heroic enterprise ; I lan- 
 guish 
 To hear how they succeeded. 
 
 Alph. Prosperously, 
 
 At first, and to their wishes : divers gallies 
 They boarded, and some strong forts near 
 
 the shore 
 
 They suddenly surprised ; a thousand cap- 
 tives, 
 Redeem'd from the oar, paid their glad 
 
 vows and prayers 
 
 For their deliverance : their ends acquired, 
 And making homeward in triumphant man- 
 ner, 
 
 For sure the cause deserved it 
 
 Dur. Pray you end here ; 
 The best, I fear, is told, and that which 
 
 follows 
 Must conclude ill. 
 
 Alph. Your fears are true, and yet 
 [ must with grief relate it. Prodigal fame, 
 In every place, with her loud trump, pro- 
 claiming 
 
 The greatness of the action, the pirates 
 Of Tunis and Argiers laid wait for them 
 At their return : to tell you what resistance 
 They made, and how my poor sons fought, 
 
 would but 
 Increase my sorrow, and, perhaps, grieve 
 
 you 
 
 To hear it passionately described unto you. 
 [n brief, they were taken, and lor the great 
 
 loss 
 
 The enemy did sustain, their victory 
 Being with much biood bought, they do 
 
 endure 
 
 The heaviest captivity wretched men 
 Did ever suffer. O my sons ! my sons ! 
 To me for ever lost ! lost, lost for ever ! 
 Sev. Will not these heaps of gold, added 
 
 to thine, 
 Suffice for ran some? 
 
 Alph. For my sons it would ; 
 But they refuse their liberty, if all 
 That were engaged with them, have not 
 
 their irons, 
 With theirs, struck off, and set at liberty 
 
 with them ; 
 Which these heaps cannot purchase. 
 
 Sev. Ha ! the toughness 
 Of my heart melts. Be comforted, old father; 
 I have some hidden treasure, and if all 
 I and my squires these three years have laid 
 
 up, 
 Can make the sum up, freely take't. 
 
490 
 
 THE GUARDIAN. 
 
 Dur. Fllsell 
 Myself to my shirt, lands, moveables ; and 
 
 them 
 Shalt part with thine too, nephew, rather 
 
 than 
 Such brave men shall live slaves. 
 
 2 Ban. We will not yield to't. 
 
 3 Ban. Nor lose our' parts. 
 Set: How's this ! 
 
 2 Ban. You are fitter far 
 To be a churchman, than to have command 
 Over good fellows. 
 
 Sev. Thus I ever use [Strikes them down. 
 Such saucy rascals ; second me, Claudio. 
 Rebellious! do you grumble? I'll not leave 
 One rogue of them alive. 
 
 Alph. Hold ; give the sign. 
 
 {Discovers himself. 
 
 All. The king! 
 
 Sev. Then I am lost. 
 
 Claud. The woods are full 
 Of armed men. 
 
 Alph. No hope of your escape 
 Can flatter you. 
 
 Sev. Mercy, dread sir ! [Kneels. 
 
 Alph. Thy carriage 
 
 In this unlawful course appears so noble, 
 Especially in this last trial, which 
 I put upon you, that I wish the mercy 
 You kneel in vain for might fall gently on 
 
 you : 
 
 But when the holy oil was pour'd upon 
 My head, and I anointed king, I swore 
 Never to pardon murder. I could wink at 
 Your robberies, though our laws call them 
 
 death, 
 
 But to dispense with Monteclaro's blood 
 Would ill become a king ; in him I lost 
 A worthy subject, and must take from you 
 A strict account oft. 'Tis in vain to move; 
 My doom's irrevocable. 
 
 Lav. Not, dread sir, 
 If Monteclaro live. 
 
 Alph. If ! good Laval. 
 
 Lav. He lives in him, sir, that you thought 
 
 Laval. [Discovers himself. 
 
 Three years have not so alter'd me, but you 
 
 may 
 Remember Monteclaro. 
 
 Dur. How ! 
 
 Jb'l. My brother ! 
 
 Calls. Uncle! 
 
 Mont. Give me leave : I was 
 Left dead in the field, but by the duke 
 
 Montpensier, 
 
 Now general at Milan, taken up, 
 And with much care recover 'd. 
 
 Alph. Why lived you 
 So long conceal'd ? 
 
 Mont. Confounded with the wrong 
 [ did my brother, in provoking him 
 To fight, I spent the time in France that I 
 Was absent from the court, making my exile 
 The punishment imposed upon myself, 
 For my offence. 
 
 161. Now, sir, I dare confess all : 
 This was the guest invited to the banquet, 
 That drew on your suspicion. 
 
 Sev. Your intent, 
 
 Though it was ill in you, I do forgive ; 
 The rest I'll hear at leisure. Sir, your sen- 
 tence. 
 
 Alph. It is a general pardon unto all, 
 Upcn my hopes, in your fair lives hereafter, 
 You will deserve it. 
 
 Sev. Claud, and the rest. Long live great 
 
 Alphonso ! 
 Dur. Your mercy shewn in this ; now, if 
 
 you please, 
 Decide these lovers' difference. 
 
 Alph. That is easy ; 
 
 I'll put it to the women's choice, the men 
 Consenting to it. 
 
 Calls. Here I fix then, never 
 To be removed. [Embraces Caldoro. 
 
 Cald. 'Tis my nil ultra, sir. 
 Mirt. O, that I had the happiness to say 
 So much to you ! I dare maintain my love 
 Is equal to my lady's. 
 A dor. But my mind 
 
 A pitch above yours : marry with a sen-ant 
 Of no descent or fortune ! 
 Sev . You are deceived : 
 Howe'er she has been train'd up as a servant, . 
 She is the daughter of a noble captain, 
 Who, in his voyage to the Persian gulf, 
 Perish'd by shipwreck ; one I dearly loved. 
 He to my care intrusted her, having taken 
 My word, if he return'd not like himself, 
 I never should discover what she was ; 
 But it being for her good, I will dispense 
 
 with't. 
 So much, sir, for her blood ; now for her 
 
 portion : 
 
 So dear I hold the memory of my friend. 
 It shall rank with my daughter's. 
 
 Ador. This made good, 
 I will not be perverse. 
 
 Dur. With a kiss confirm it. 
 
 Ador. I sign all concord here ; but must 
 
 to you, sir, 
 
 For reparation of my wounded honour, 
 The justice of the king consenting to it, 
 Denounce a lawful war. 
 
 Alph. This in our presence ! 
 
 Ador. The cause, dread sir, commands 
 
 it : though your edicts 
 Call orivate combats, murders : rather than 
 
THE GUARDIAN. 
 
 491 
 
 Sit down with a disgrace, arising from 
 
 A blow, the bonds of my obedience shook 
 
 off, 
 I'll right myself. 
 
 Cald. I do confess the wrong, 
 Forgetting the occasion, and desire 
 Remission from you, and upon such terms 
 As by his sacred majesty shall be judged 
 Equal on both parts. 
 
 Ador. I desire no more. 
 
 Alph. All then are pleased ; it is the- 
 
 glory of 
 A king to make and keep his subjects 
 
 happy : 
 
 For us, we do approve the Roman maxim, 
 To save one citizen is a greater prize 
 Than to have kill'd in war ten enemies. 
 
 [Exeunt.. 
 
 EPILOGUE. 
 
 / am left to enqiiire, then to relate 
 To the still-doubtful aiithor, at what rate 
 His merchandise are -valued. If they prove 
 Staple commodities, in your grace and love 
 To this last birth of his Minerva, he 
 Vows (and we do believe him] seriously, 
 Sloth cast off", and all pleasures else declined, 
 He'll search with his best care, until he find 
 New ways, and make good in some labour d song, 
 Though he grow old, Apollo still is young. 
 Cherish his good intentions, and declare 
 By any signs of favour, that you are 
 Well pleased, and with a general consent ; 
 And he desires no more encouragement. 
 
A Very Woman ; 
 
 or, 
 
 The Prince of Tarent. 
 
 PROLOGUE. 
 
 To such, and some there are, no question, here, 
 Who, happy in their memories^ do bear 
 This subject, long since acted, and can say, 
 Truly, -we have seen something like this play. 
 Our author, with becoming modesty, 
 (For in this kind he ne'er was bold,) by me, 
 In his defence thus answers, By command, 
 He undertook this task, nor could it stand 
 With his low fortune to refuse to do 
 What, by his patron, he was call'd unto : 
 For whose delight and yours, we hope, with care 
 He hath review d it ; and with him we dare 
 Maintain to any man, that did allow 
 'Twos good before, it is much better' d now : 
 A r or is it, sure, against the proclamation 
 To raise new piles upon an old foundation. 
 So much to them deliver d ; to the rest, 
 To whom each scene is fresh, he doth protest, 
 Should his Muse fail now a fair flight to make, 
 He cannot fancy what will please or take. 
 
 DRAMATIS PERSONS. 
 
 Viceroy ^Sicily. 
 
 Don Pedro, his son. 
 
 Duke of Messina. 
 
 Don Martino Cardenes, his son. 
 
 Don John Antonio, prince fl/" Tarent. 
 
 Captain of the castle ^Palermo. 
 
 Paulo, a physician. 
 
 Cuculo, the Viceroy s steward. 
 
 Two Surgeons. 
 
 Apothecary. 
 
 Citizens. 
 
 Slave-merchant. 
 
 Servant. 
 
 SCENE, 
 
 Page. 
 
 An English Slave. 
 Slaves. 
 Moors. 
 Pirates. 
 Sailors. 
 
 Almira, the Viceroy s daughter. 
 Leonora, duke of Messina's niece. 
 Borachia, wife to Cuculo, governess of Leo- 
 nora and Almira. 
 Two Waiting Women. 
 A good and evil Genius, Servants, Guard, 
 
 Attendants, &>c. 
 Palermo. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 SCENE I. A Room in the Viceroy's 
 Palace. 
 
 '< But prosperous to Pedro, that begins 
 \Yith this so wish'd encounter. 
 
 Leon. Only servant, 
 
 To give you thanks in your own courtly 
 Enter Pedro meeting Leonora. language, 
 
 Pedro. My worthiest mistress ! this day Would argue me more ceremonious 
 cannot end Than heartily affected ; and you are 
 
A VERY WOMAN. 
 
 493 
 
 Too well assured, or I am miserable, 
 
 Our equal loves have kept one rank too long, 
 
 To stand at distance now. 
 
 Pedro. You make me happy 
 In this so wise reproof, which I receive 
 As a chaste favour from you, and will ever 
 Hold such astrong command o'ermy desires, 
 That though my blood turn rebel to my 
 
 reason, 
 I never shall presume to seek aught from 
 
 you, 
 But what (your honour safe) you well may 
 
 grant me, 
 And virtue sign the warrant. 
 
 Leon. Your love to me 
 So limited, will still preserve your mistress 
 Worthy her servant, and in your restraint 
 Of loose affections, bind me faster to you : 
 But there will be a time when we may wel- 
 come 
 Those wish'd for pleasures, as heaven's 
 
 greatest blessings, 
 When that the viceroy, your most noble 
 
 father, 
 And the duke my uncle, and to that, my 
 
 riardian, 
 by their free consent confirm them 
 lawful. 
 Pedro. You ever shall direct, and I obey 
 
 you: 
 
 Is my sister stirring yet ? 
 Leon. Long since. 
 Pedro. Some business 
 With her, join'd to my service to yourself, 
 Hath brought me hither ; pray you vouch- 
 safe the favour 
 
 To acquaint her with so much. 
 Leon. I am prevented. 
 
 Enter Almira, and two Waiting \Voincn 
 dressing her. 
 
 Aim. Do the rest here, my cabinet is too 
 
 hot ; 
 This room is cooler. Brother ! 
 
 Pedro. Morrow, sister ! 
 Do I not come unseasonably ? 
 
 Aim. Why, good brother ? 
 
 Pedro. Because you are not yet fully made 
 
 up, 
 
 Nor fit for visitation. There are ladies, 
 And great ones, that will hardly grant access, 
 On any terms, to their own fathers, as 
 They are themselves, nor willingly be seen 
 Before they have ask'd counsel of their 
 
 doctor 
 
 How the ceruse will appear, newly laid on, 
 When they ask blessing. 
 
 Aim. Such, indeed, there are 
 That would be still young, in despite of time ; 
 
 That in the wrinkled winter of their age 
 Would force a seeming April of fresh beauty, 
 As if it were within the power of art 
 To frame a second nature : but for me, 
 And for your mistress I dare say as much, 
 The faces, and the teeth you s'ee, we slept 
 with. 
 
 Pedro. Which is not frequent, sister, with 
 some ladies. 
 
 Aim. You spy no sign of any night-mask 
 
 here, 
 
 (Tie on my carcanet,) nor does your nostril I 
 Take in the scent of strong perfumes, to stifle j 
 The sourness of our breaths as we are fasting: j 
 You're in a lady's chamber, gentle brother, I 
 And not in your apothecary's shop. 
 We use the women, you perceive, that serve 
 
 us, 
 Like servants, not like such as do create j 
 
 us : 
 Faith, search our pockets, and, if you find 
 
 there 
 
 Comfits of ambergris to help our kisses, 
 Conclude us faulty. 
 
 Pedro. You are pleasant, sister, 
 And I am glad to find you so disposed ; 
 You will the better hear me. 
 
 Aim. What you please, sir. 
 
 Pedro. I am entreated by the prince of 
 
 Tarent, 
 Don John Antonio 
 
 Aim. Would you would choose 
 Some other subject. 
 
 Pedro. Pray you, give me leave, 
 For his desires are fit for you to hear, 
 As for me to prefer. This prince of Tarent 
 (Let it not wrong him that I call him friend) 
 Finding your choice of don Cardenes liked of 
 .By both your fathers, and his hopes cut off, 
 Resolves to leave Palermo. 
 
 Aim. He does well ; 
 That I hear gladly. 
 
 Pedro. How this prince came hither, 
 How bravely furnish 'd, how attended on, 
 How he hath borne himself here, with what 
 
 charge 
 
 He hath continued ; his magnificence 
 In costly banquets, curious masques, rare 
 
 presents, 
 And of all sorts, you cannot but remember. 
 
 Aim. Give me my gloves. 
 
 Pedro. Now, for reward of all 
 His cost, his travel, and his duteous service, 
 He does entreat that you will please he may 
 Take his leave of you, and receive the favour 
 Of kissing of your hands. 
 
 Aim. You are his friend, 
 And shall dischaige the part of one to tell 
 him 
 
 
494 
 
 A VERY WOMAN. 
 
 That he may spare the trouble ; I desire not 
 To see or hear more of him. 
 
 Pedro. Yet grant this, 
 Which a mere stranger, in the way of court- 
 ship, 
 Might challenge from you. 
 
 Aim. And obtain it sooner. 
 
 Pedro. One reason for this would do well. 
 
 Aim. My will 
 
 Shall now stand for a thousand. Shall I lose 
 The privilege of my sex, which is my will, 
 To yield a reason like a man ? or you, 
 Deny your sister that which all true women 
 Claim as their first prerogative, which nature 
 Gave to them for a law, and should I break it, 
 I were no more a woman ? 
 
 Pedro. Sure, a good one 
 You cannot be, if you put off that virtue 
 Which best adonis a good one, courtesy 
 And affable behaviour. Do not flatter' 
 Yourself with the opinion that your birth, 
 Your beauty, or whatever false 'ground else 
 You raise your pride upon, will stand against 
 The censure of just men. 
 
 Aim. Why, let it fall then ; 
 I still shall be unmoved. 
 
 Leon. And, pray you, be you so. 
 
 'Aside to Pedro. 
 
 Aim. What jewel's that ?~ 
 
 i \Vorn. That which the prince of 
 Tarent 
 
 Aim. Left here, and you received with- 
 out my knowledge ! ' 
 I have use oft now. Does the page wait 
 
 without, 
 My lord Cardenes sent to inquire my health ? 
 
 i Worn. Yes, madam. 
 
 Aim. Give it him, and, with it, pray him 
 To return my sendee to his lord, and mine. 
 
 Pedro. Will you so undervalue one that has 
 So truly loved you, to bestow the pledge 
 Of his affection, being a prince, upon 
 The servant of his rival ? 
 
 Leon. 'Tis not well. 
 
 Faith, wear it, lady : send gold to the boy, 
 Twill please him better. 
 
 Aim. Do as I command you. 
 
 17 Ex it Waiting Woman. 
 I will keep nothing that may put me in mind 
 Don John Antonio ever loved, or was ; 
 Being wholly now Cardenes'. 
 
 Pedro. In another 
 This were mere barbarism, sister; and in 
 
 you, 
 
 <For' I'll not sooth you,) at the best, 'tis 
 rudeness. 
 
 Aim. Rudeness ! 
 
 Pedro. Yes, rudeness ; and, what's worse, 
 the want 
 
 Of civil manners ; nay, ingratitude 
 Unto the many and so fair deservings 
 Of don Antonio. Does this express 
 Your breeding in the court, or that you call 
 The viceroy father? a poor peasant's 
 
 daughter, 
 
 That ne'er had conversation but with beasts, 
 Or men bred like them, would not so far 
 
 shame 
 Her education. 
 
 Aim. Pray you, leave my chamber ; 
 I know you for a brother, not a tutor. 
 
 Z^.*You are too violent, madam. 
 
 Aim. Were my father 
 Here to command me, (as you take upon 
 
 you 
 
 Almost to play his part,) I would refuse it. 
 Where I love, I profess it ; where I hate, 
 In ever)' circumstance I dare proclaim it. 
 Of all that wear the shapes of men, I loath 
 That prince you plead for ; no antipathy 
 Between things most averse in nature, holds 
 A stronger enmity than his with mine ; 
 With which rest satisfied : If not, your 
 
 anger 
 May wrong yourself, not me. 
 
 Leon. My' lord Cardenes ! 
 
 Pedro. Go : in soft terms, if you persist 
 
 thus, you 
 Will be one 
 
 Enter Cardenes. 
 
 Aim. What one? pray you, out with it. 
 Pedro. Why, one that I shall wish a 
 stranger to me, 
 
 That I might curse you ; but 
 
 Car. Whence grows this heat ? 
 
 Pedro. Be yet advised, and entertain him 
 
 fairly, 
 
 For I will send him to you ; or no more 
 Know me a brother. 
 Aim. As you please. 
 Pedro. Good morrow. Exit. 
 
 Car. Good morrow, and part thus"! you 
 
 seem moved too : 
 W r hat desperate fool durst raise a tempest 
 
 here, 
 To sink himself? 
 
 Aim. Good sir, have patience ; 
 The cause, though I confess I am not 
 
 pleased, 
 Xo way deserves your anger. 
 
 Car. Not mine, madam, 
 As if the least offence could point at you, 
 And I not feel it : as you have vouchsafed 
 
 me 
 
 The promise of your heart, conceal it not, 
 Whomsoever it concerns. 
 Aim. It is not worth 
 
A VERY WOMAN. 
 
 495 
 
 So serious an inquiry : my kind brother 
 Had a desire to learn me some new court- 
 ship, 
 Which I distasted ; that was all. 
 
 Car. Your brother ! 
 In being yours, with more security 
 He might provoke you ; yet, if he hath past 
 A brother's bounds 
 
 Leon. What then, my lord ? 
 
 Car. Believe it, 
 I'll call him to accompt for't. 
 
 Leon. Tell him so. 
 
 Aim. No more. 
 
 Leon. Yes, thus much ; though my modesty 
 Be call'd in question for it, in his absence 
 I will defend him : he hath said nor done, 
 But what don Pedro well might say or do ; 
 Mark me, don Pedro ! in which understand 
 As worthy, and as well as can be hoped for 
 Of those that love him best from don 
 Cardenes. 
 
 Car. This to me, cousin ! 
 
 Aim. You forget 'yourself. 
 
 Leon. No, nor the cause in which you 
 
 did so, lady, 
 'Which is so just that it needs no concealing 
 On Pedro's part. 
 
 Aim. What mean you? 
 
 Leon. I dare speak it, 
 If you dare hear it, sir : he did persuade 
 Alrnira, your Almira, to vouchsafe 
 -Some little conference with the prince of 
 
 Tarent, 
 
 "Before he left the court ; and, that the world 
 JMight take some notice, though he prosper'd 
 
 not 
 
 In his so loved design, he was not scorn'd, 
 He did desire the kissing of her hand, 
 And then to leave her : this was much ! 
 
 Car. Twas more 
 Than should have been urged by him ; well 
 
 denied, 
 
 On your part, madam, and I thank you for't. 
 Antonio had his answer, I your grant ; 
 And why your brother should prepare for 
 
 him 
 
 An after-interview, or private favour, 
 I can find little reason. 
 
 Leon. None at all, 
 Why you should be displeased with't. 
 
 Car.- His respect 
 To me, as. things now are, should have 
 
 weigh 'd down 
 
 His former friendship : 'twas done indis- 
 creetly, 
 
 I would be loath to say, maliciously, 
 To build up the demolish 'd hopes of him 
 That was my rival. What had he to do, 
 If he view not my happiness in your favour 
 
 With wounded eyes, to take upon himself 
 An office so distasteful ? 
 
 Leon. You may ask 
 As well, what any gentleman has to do 
 With civil courtesy. 
 
 Aim. Or you, with that 
 Which at no part concerns you. Good my 
 
 lord, 
 
 Rest satisfied, that I saw him not, nor will ; 
 And that nor father, brother, nor the world, 
 Can work me unto anything but what 
 You give allowance to in which assurance, 
 With this, I leave you. 
 
 Leon. Nay, take me along ; 
 You are not angry too ? 
 
 Aim. Presume on that. 
 
 \_Exit, followed by Leonora. 
 
 Car. Am I assured of her, and shall again 
 Be tortured with suspicion to lose her, 
 Before I have enjoy' d her ! the next sun 
 Shall see her mine ; why should I doubt, 
 
 then? yet, 
 
 To doubt is safer than to be secure. 
 But one short day ! Great empires in less 
 
 time 
 Have suffer'd change : she's constant but a 
 
 woman ; 
 
 And what a lover's vows, persuasions, tears, 
 May, in a minute, work upon such frailty, 
 There are too many and too sad examples. 
 The prince of Tarent gone, all were in safety ; 
 Or not admitted to solicit her, 
 My fears would quit me : 'tis my fault, if I 
 Give way to that ; and let him ne'er desire 
 To own what's hard [to win,] that dares not 
 
 guard it. 
 
 Who waits there? 
 
 Enter Servants and Page. 
 
 Serv. Would your lordship aught ? 
 Car. 'Tiswell 
 You are so near. 
 
 Enter Antonio and a Servant. 
 
 Ant. Take care all things be ready 
 For my remove. 
 
 Serv. They are. \Exit. 
 
 Car. We meet like friends, 
 No more like rivals now : my emulation 
 Puts on the shape of love and service to you. 
 
 Ant. It is return'd. 
 
 Car. 'Twas rumoured in the court 
 You were to leave the city, and that won me 
 To find you out. Your excellence may 
 
 wonder 
 
 That I, that never saw you, till this hour, 
 But that I wish'd you dead, so willingly 
 Should come to wait upon you to the ports ; 
 
496 
 
 A VERY WOMAN. 
 
 '/J 
 
 And there, with hope you never will look 
 
 back, 
 
 Take my last farewell of you. 
 Ant. 'Never look back'! 
 Car. I said so ; neither is it fit you should ; 
 And may I prevail with you as a friend, 
 You never shall ; nor, while you live, here- 
 after 
 
 Think of the viceroy's court, or of Palermo, 
 But as a grave, in which the prince of Tarent 
 Buried his honour. 
 
 Ant. You speak in a language 
 I do not understand. 
 
 Car. No ! I'll be plainer. 
 What madman, that came hither with that 
 
 pomp 
 
 Don John Antonio did, that exact courtier 
 Don John Antonio, with whose brave fame 
 
 only 
 
 Great princesses have fall'n in love, and died; 
 That came with such assurance, as young 
 
 Paris 
 ! Did to fetch Helen, being sent back, con- 
 
 temn'd, 
 Disgraced, and scora'd, his large expense 
 
 laugh 'd at, 
 
 i His braver.' scoff d, the lady that he courted 
 Left quietly in possession of another, 
 (Not to be named that day a courtier 
 ; Where hewasmention'd,) the scarce-known 
 
 Cardenes, 
 ; And he to bear her from him ! that would 
 
 ever 
 
 . Be seen again (having got fairly off) 
 By such as will live ready witnesses 
 ' Of his repulse and scandal ? 
 
 Ant. The grief of it, 
 Believe me, will not kill me : all man's 
 
 honour 
 
 Depends not on the most uncertain favour 
 Of a fair mistress. 
 
 Car. Troth, you bear it well. 
 You should have seen some that were 
 
 sensible 
 Of a disgrace, that would have raged, and 
 
 sought 
 To cure their honour with some strange 
 
 revenge : 
 But you are better temper'd ; and they 
 
 wrong 
 
 The Neapolitans in their report, 
 That say they are fiery spirits, uncapable 
 Of the least injury, dangerous to be talk'd 
 
 with 
 
 After a loss ; where nothing can move you, 
 But, like a stoic, with a constancy 
 Words nor affronts can shake, you still go on, 
 And smile when men abuse you. 
 Ant. If they wrong 
 
 Themselves, I 
 
 I . would have yon 
 
 "know, 
 I dare be angry. 
 
 Car. "Tis not possible. 
 A taste oft would do well ; and I'd make 
 
 trial 
 What may be done. Come hither, boy. You. 
 
 have seen 
 This jewel, as I take it ? 
 
 Ant. Yes ; 'tis that 
 I gave Almira. 
 
 Car. And in what esteem 
 She held it, coming from your worthy self, 
 You may perceive, that freely hath bestow'd it 
 Upon my page. 
 
 Ant. When I presented it, 
 I did not indent with her, to what use 
 She should employ it. 
 
 Car. See the kindness of 
 A loving soul ! who, after this neglect, 
 Nay, gross contempt, will look again upoa 
 
 her, 
 And not be frighted from it. 
 
 Ant. No, indeed, sir ; 
 Nor give way longer give way, do you 
 
 mark, 
 To your loose wit, to run the wild-goose 
 
 chase, 
 
 Six syllables further. I will see the lady, 
 That lady that dotes on you, from whose 
 
 hate 
 
 My love increases, though you stand elected 
 Her porter, to deny me. 
 Car. Sure you will not. 
 Ant. Yes, instantly : your prosperous- 
 
 success 
 
 Hath made you insolent ; and for her sake 
 I have thus long forborne you, and can yet 
 Forget it and forgive it, ever provided, 
 That you end here ; and, for what's past re- 
 
 calling, 
 
 That she make intercession for your pardon, 
 Which, at her suit, I'll grant. 
 Car. I am much unwilling 
 To move her for a trifle bear that too, 
 
 [Strikes him. 
 And then she shall speak to you. 
 
 Ant. Men and angels, 
 Take witness for me, that I have endured 
 More than a man ! 
 
 {They fight ; Cardenes// /A. 
 O do not fall so soon, 
 Stand up take my hand so ! when I have 
 
 printed, 
 
 For every contumelious word, a wound here, 
 Then sink for ever. 
 
 Car. Oh, I suffer justly ! 
 
 i Sen 1 . Murder ! murder ! murder ! 
 
 \Exit. 
 
A VERY WOMAN. 
 
 497 
 
 2 Serv. Apprehend him. 
 
 3 Serv . We'll all join with you. 
 Ant. I do wish you more ; 
 
 My fury will be lost else, if it meet not 
 Matter to work on : one life is too little 
 For so much injury. 
 
 Re-enter Almira, Leonora, and Servant. 
 
 Aim. O my Cardenes ! 
 Though dead, still my Cardenes ! Villains, 
 
 cowards, 
 
 What do ye check at? can one arm, and that 
 A murderer's, so long guard the curs'd 
 
 master, 
 Against so many swords made sharp with 
 
 justice ? 
 
 1 Serv. Sure he will kill us all ; he is a 
 devil. 
 
 2 Serv. He is invulnerable. 
 Aim. Your base fears 
 
 Beget such fancies in you. Give me a sword, 
 [Snatches a sword from the Servant. 
 This my weak arm, made strong in my re- 
 venge, 
 Shall force a way to't. [ Wounds Antonio. 
 
 Ant. Would it were deeper, madam ! 
 The thrust, which I would not put by, being 
 
 yours, 
 Of greater force, to have pierced through 
 
 that heart 
 Which still retains your figure ! weep still, 
 
 lady ; 
 For every tear that flows from those grieved 
 
 eyes, 
 Some part of that which maintains life, goes 
 
 from me ; 
 
 And so to die were in a gentle slumber 
 To pass to paradise : but you envy me 
 So quiet a departure from my world, 
 My world of miseries ; therefore, take my 
 
 sword, 
 And, having kill'd me with it, cure the 
 
 wounds 
 It gave Cardenes. 
 
 [Gives Almira his sword. 
 
 Re-enter Pedro. 
 
 Pedro. Tis too true rwas ever 
 "Valour so ill employed ! 
 
 Ant. Why stay you, lady? 
 Let not soft pity work on your hard nature ; 
 You cannot do a better office to 
 The dead Cardenes, and I willingly 
 Shall fall a ready sacrifice to appease him, 
 Your fair hand offering it. 
 
 Aim. Thou couldst ask nothing 
 But this, which I would grant. 
 
 {Attempts to wound him. 
 
 Leon. Flint-hearted lady ! 
 
 Pedro. Are you a woman, sister ! 
 
 [ Takes the sword from her. 
 
 Aim. Thou art not 
 
 A brother, I renounce that title to thee ; 
 Thy hand is in this bloody act ; 'twas this, 
 For which that savage homicide was sent 
 
 hither. 
 
 Thou equal Judge of all things ! if that blood, 
 And innccent blood 
 
 Pedro. [Best sister.] 
 
 Aim. Oh, Cardenes ! 
 
 How is my soul rent between rage and sor- 
 row, 
 
 That it can be that such an upright cedar 
 Should violently be torn up by the roots, 
 Without an earthquake in that very moment 
 To swallow them that did it ! 
 
 Ant. The hurt's nothing ; 
 But the deep wound is in my conscience, 
 
 friend, 
 Which sorrow in death only can recover. 
 
 Pedro. Have better hopes. 
 
 Enter Viceroy, Duke of Messina, Captain, 
 Guard, and Servants. 
 
 Duke. My son, is this the marriage 
 I came to celebrate ? false hopes of man ! 
 I come to find a grave here. 
 
 Aim. I have wasted 
 My stock of tears, and now just anger help 
 
 me 
 
 To pay, in my revenge, the other part 
 Of duty, which I owe thee. O, great sir, 
 Not as a daughter now, but a poor widow, 
 Made so before she was a bride, I fly 
 To your impartial justice : the offence 
 Is death, and death in his most horrid form; 
 Let not, then, title, or a prince's name, 
 (Since a great crime is, in a great man, 
 
 greater, ) 
 Secure the offender. 
 
 Duke. Give me life for life, 
 As thou wilt answer it to the great king, / 
 Whose deputy thou art here. 
 
 Aim. And speedy justice. 
 
 Duke. Put the damn'd wretch to torture. 
 
 Aim. Force him to 
 Reveal his curs'd confederates, which spare 
 
 not, 
 Although you find a son among them. 
 
 Vice. How! 
 
 Duke. Why bring you not the rack forth? 
 
 Aim. Wherefore stands 
 The murderer unbound ? 
 
 Vice. Shall I have hearing? 
 
 Duke. Excellent lady, in this you express 
 Your true love to the dead. 
 
 Aim. All love to mankind 
 From me, ends \tilh him. 
 
 K K 
 
498 
 
 A VERY WOMAN. 
 
 Vice. Will you hear me yet ? 
 And first to you ; you do confess the fact 
 j With which you stand charged ? 
 
 Ant, I will not make worse 
 i WTiat is already ill, with vain denial. 
 
 Vice. Then understand, though you are 
 
 prince of Tarent, 
 
 j Yet, being a subject to the king of Spain, 
 No privilege of Sicily can free you 
 (Being convict by a just form o'f law) 
 From the municipal statutes oi that kingdom, 
 But as a common man, being found guilty, 
 Must suffer for it. 
 
 Ant. I prize not my life 
 So much, as to appeal from anything 
 You shall determine of me. 
 
 Vice. Yet despair not 
 ! To have an equal hearing ; the exclaims 
 1 Of this grieved father, nor my daughter's 
 
 tears, 
 Shall sway me from myself; and, where 
 
 they urge 
 To have you tortured, or led bound to 
 
 prison, 
 
 I must not grant it. 
 Duke. No ! 
 Vice. I cannot, sir ; 
 
 For men of his rank are to be distinguish 'd 
 From other men, before they are condemn'd, 
 From which (his cause not heard) he yet 
 
 stands free : 
 
 So take him to your charge, and, as your life, 
 See he be safe. 
 
 Capt. Let me die for him else. 
 \Exeunt Pedro, and Capt. and Guard 
 
 with Ant. 
 Duke. The guard of him should have 
 
 been given to me. 
 Aim. Or unto me. 
 
 Duke. Bribes may corrupt the captain. 
 Aim. And our just wreak, by force, or 
 
 cunning practice, 
 With scorn prevented. 
 Car. Oh! 
 
 Aim. What groan is that? 
 Vice. There are apparent signs of life yet 
 
 in him. 
 Aim. Oh that there were ! that I could 
 
 pour my blood 
 Into his veins ! 
 Car. Oh, oh ! 
 Vice. Take him up gently. 
 Duke. Run for physicians. 
 Aim. Surgeons. 
 Duke. All helps else. 
 Vice. This care of his recovery, timely 
 
 practised, 
 
 Would have express'd more of a father in 
 you, 
 
 Than your impetuous clamours for revenge. 
 But I shall find fit time to urge that further, 
 Hereafter, to you ; 'tis not fit for me 
 To add weight to oppress 'd calamity. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 SCENE I. A Room in the Castle. 
 Enter Pedro, Antonio, and Captain. 
 Ant. Why should ) r our love to me, having 
 
 already 
 
 So oft endured the test, be put unto 
 A needless trial? have you not, long since, 
 In every circumstance and rite of friendship, 
 Outgone all precedents the ancients boast of. 
 And will you yet move further ? 
 
 Pedro. Hitherto 
 
 I have done nothing (howsoe'er you value 
 My weak endeavours) that may justly claim 
 A title to your friendship, and'much less 
 Laid down the debt, which, as a tribute due 
 To your deservings. not I, but mankind 
 Stands bound to tender. 
 
 Ant. Do not make an idol 
 Of him that should, and without supersti- 
 tion, 
 
 To you build up an altar. O my Pedro ! 
 When I am to expire, to call you mine, 
 Assures a future happiness : give me leave 
 To argue with you, and, the fondness of 
 Affection struck blind, with justice hear me : 
 WTiy should you, being innocent, fling your 
 
 'life 
 
 Into the furnace of your father's anger, 
 For my offence ? or, take it granted (yet 
 Tis more than supposition) you prefer 
 My safety 'fore your own, so prodigally 
 You waste your favours, wherefore should 
 
 this captain, 
 
 His blood and sweat rewarded in the favour 
 Of his great master, falsify the trust 
 Which, from true judgment, he reposes in 
 
 him, 
 For me a stranger? 
 
 .Pedro. Let him answer that, 
 He needs no prompter : speak your thoughts, 
 
 and freely. 
 Capt. I ever loved to do so, and it shames 
 
 not 
 The bluntness of my breeding: from my 
 
 youth 
 
 I was train'd up a soldier, one of those 
 That in their natures love the dangers more, 
 Than the rewards of danger. I could add, 
 My life, when forfeited, the viceroy pardon'd 
 But by his intercession ; and therefore, 
 It being lent by him, I were ungrateful, 
 
A VERY WOMAN. 
 
 499 
 
 Which I will never be, if I refused 
 To pay that debt at any time demanded. 
 Pedro. I hope, friend, this will satisfy you. 
 Ant. No, it raises 
 More doubts within me. Shall I, from the 
 
 School 
 
 Of gratitude, in which this captain reads 
 The text so plainly, learn to be unthankful ? 
 Or, viewing in your actions the idea 
 Of perfect friendship, when it does point to 
 
 me 
 
 How brave a thing it is to be a friend, 
 Turn from the object ? Had I never loved 
 The fair Almira for her outward features, 
 Nay, were the beauties of her mind sus- 
 pected, 
 And her contempt and scorn painted before 
 
 me, 
 The being your sister would anew inflame 
 
 me, 
 With much more impotence to dote upon 
 
 her: 
 
 No, dear friend, let me in my death confirm, 
 (Though you in all things else have the pre- 
 cedence,) 
 
 I'll die ten times, ere one of Pedro's hairs 
 Shall suffer in my cause. 
 
 Pedro. If you so love me, 
 In love to that part of my soul dwells in you, 
 (For though two bodies, friends have but one 
 
 soul,) 
 Lose not both life and me. 
 
 Enter a Servant. 
 
 Serv. The prince is dead, v \Exit. 
 
 Ant. If so, shall I leave Pedro here to 
 
 answer 
 
 For my escape ? as thus I clasp thee, let 
 The viceroy's sentence find me. 
 
 Pedro. Fly, for heaven's sake ! 
 Consider the necessity ; though now 
 We part, Antonio, we may meet again, 
 But death's division is for ever, friend. 
 
 Enter another Servant. 
 
 Serv. The rumour spread, sir, ofMartino's 
 
 death, 
 Is check'd j there's hope of his recovery. 
 
 {Exit. 
 Ant. Why should I fly, then, when I may 
 
 enjoy, 
 
 With mine own life, my friend ? 
 Pedro. That's still uncertain, 
 He may have a relapse ; for once be ruled, 
 
 friend : 
 
 He's a good debtor that pays when 'tis due ; 
 A prodigal, that, before it is required, 
 Makes tender of it. 
 
 Enter Sailors. 
 
 1 Sail. The bark, sir, is ready. 
 
 2 Sail. The wind sits fair. 
 
 3 Sail. Heaven favours your escape. 
 
 [ Whistles within. 
 Capt. Hark, how the boatswain whistles 
 
 you aboard ! 
 Will nothing move you ? 
 
 Ant. Can I leave my friend? 
 
 Pedro. I must delay no longer ; force him 
 
 hence. 
 Capt. I'll run the hazard of my fortunes 
 
 with you. 
 Ant. What violence is this? hear but my 
 
 reasons. 
 Pedro. Poor friendship that is cool'd with 
 
 arguments ! 
 Away, away ! 
 
 Capt. For Malta. 
 Pedro. You shall hear 
 All our events. 
 
 Ant. I may sail round the world, 
 But never meet thy like. Pedro ! 
 Pedro. Antonio ! 
 
 Ant. I breathe my soul back to thee. 
 Pedro. In exchange, 
 Bear mine along with thee. 
 Capt. Cheerly, my hearts ! 
 
 \Exeunt Captain and Sailors with 
 
 Antonio. 
 Pedro. He's gone : may pitying heaven his 
 
 pilot be, 
 
 And then I weigh not what becomes of me. 
 
 \Exit. 
 
 SCENE II. A Room in the Viceroy's 
 
 Palace. 
 
 Enter Viceroy, Duke of Messina, and 
 Attendants. 
 
 Vice. I tell you right, sir. 
 
 Duke. Yes, like a rough surgeon, 
 Without a feeling in yourself you search 
 My wounds unto the quick, then pre-declare, 
 The tediousness and danger of the cure, 
 Never remembering what the patient suffers* 
 But you preach this philosophy to a man 
 That does partake of passion, and not 
 To a dull stoic. 
 
 Vice. I confess you have 
 Just cause to mourn your son ; and yet, if 
 
 reason 
 
 Cannot yield comfort, let example cure. 
 I am a father too, my only daughter 
 As dear in my esteem, perhaps as worthy,. 
 As your Martino, in her love to him 
 As desperately ill, cither's loss equal ; 
 And yet I bear it with a better temper :. 
 
 K K 2 
 
Soo 
 
 A VERY WOMAN. 
 
 Enter Pedro. 
 
 Which, if you please to imitate, 'twill not 
 
 wrong 
 Your piety, nor your judgment. 
 
 Duke. We were fashion'd 
 In different moulds. I weep with mine own 
 
 eyes, sir, 
 
 Pursue my ends too ; pity to you's a cordial, 
 Revenge to me ; and that I must and will 
 
 have, 
 If my Marti no die. 
 
 Pedro. Your must and it'ili, 
 Shall in your full-sailed confidence deceive 
 
 you. [Aside. 
 
 Here's doctor Paulo, sir. 
 
 Enter Paulo and two Surgeons. 
 
 Duke. My hand ! you rather 
 Deserve my knee, and it shall bend as to 
 A second father, if your saving aids 
 Restore my son. 
 
 Vice. Rise, thou bright star of knowledge, 
 j Thou honour of thy art, thou help of nature, 
 | Thou glory of our academies ! 
 
 Paul. If I blush, sir, 
 
 j To hear these attributes ill-placed on me, 
 I It is excusable. I am no god, sir, 
 Nor holy saint that can do miracles, 
 But a weak, sinful man : yet, that I may, 
 In some proportion, deserve these favours 
 Your excellencies please to grace me with, 
 I promise all the skill I have acquired 
 In simples, or the careful observation 
 : Of the superior bodies, with my judgment 
 Derived from long experience, stand ready 
 To do you service. 
 
 Duke. Modestly replied. 
 Vice. How is it with your princely patient ? 
 Duke. Speak, 
 
 But speak some comfort, sir. 
 Paul. I must speak truth : 
 His wounds though many, heaven so guided 
 
 yet 
 Antonio's sword, it pierced no part was 
 
 mortal. 
 
 These gentlemen, who worthily deserve 
 The names of surgeons, have done their 
 
 duties : 
 The means they practised, not ridiculous 
 
 charms 
 To stop the blood ; no oils, nor balsams 
 
 bought 
 
 Of cheating quack-salvers, or mountebanks, 
 By them applied : the rules by Chiron taught, 
 And yEsculapius, which drew upon him 
 The Thunderer's envy, they with care pur- 
 sued, 
 Heaven prospering their endeavours. 
 
 Duke. There is hope, then, 
 Of his recovery ? 
 
 Paul. But no assurance ; 
 I must not flatter you. That little air 
 Of comfort that breathes towards us (for I 
 
 dare not 
 Rob these t 'enrich myself) you owe their 
 
 care ; 
 For, yet, I have done nothing. 
 
 Duke. Still more modest ; 
 I will begin with them : to either give 
 Three thousand crowns. 
 
 Vice. I'll double your reward : 
 See them paid presently. 
 
 1 Surg. This magnificence 
 
 With equity cannot be conferr'd on us ; 
 'Tis due unto the doctor. 
 
 2 Surg. True ; we were 
 
 But his subordinate ministers, and did only 
 Follow his grave directions. 
 
 Paul. 'Tis your own : 
 I challenge no part in it. 
 Vice. Brave on both sides ! 
 Paul. Deserve this, with the honour that 
 
 will follow, 
 In your attendance. 
 
 2 Surg. If both sleep at once, 
 'Tis justice both should die. 
 
 [Exeunt Surgeons. 
 Duke. For you, grave doctor, 
 We will not in such petty sums consider 
 i Your high deserts ; our treasury lies open, 
 Command it as your own. 
 
 Vice. Choose any castle, 
 Nav, citv, in our government, and be lord 
 
 oft. 
 
 Paul. Of neither, sir ; I am not so am- 
 bitious : 
 
 Nor would I have your highnesses secure. 
 We have but faintly yet begun our journey ; 
 A thousand difficulties and dangers must be 
 Encounter'd, ere we end it : though his 
 
 hurts, 
 
 I mean his outward ones, do promise fair, 
 There is a deeper one, and in his mind, 
 Must be with care provided for ; melan- 
 choly, 
 
 And at the height, too, near akin to mad- 
 ness, 
 
 Possesses him ; his senses are distracted, 
 Not one, but all ; and, if I can collect them, 
 With all the various ways invention 
 Or industry e'er practised, I shall write it 
 My masterpiece. 
 
 Duke. You more and more engage me. 
 Vice. May we not visit him? 
 Paul. By no means, sir ; 
 As he is now, such courtesies come un- 
 timely : 
 
A VERY WOMAN. 
 
 501 
 
 I'll yield you reason fort. Should he look 
 
 on you, 
 
 It will renew the memory of that 
 Which I would have forgotten ; your good 
 
 prayers 
 
 And those I do presume shall not be wanting 
 To my endeavours, are the utmost aids 
 I yet desire your excellencies should grant 
 
 me. 
 
 So, with my humblest service 
 Duke. Go, and prosper. \Exit Paulo. 
 Vice. Observe his piety ; I have heard, 
 
 how true 
 
 I know not, most physicians, as they grow 
 Greater in skill, grow less in their religion ; 
 Attributing so much to natural causes, 
 That they have little faith in that they 
 
 cannot 
 
 Deliver reason for : this doctor steers 
 Another course but let this pass. If you 
 
 please, 
 
 Your company to my daughter. 
 Duke. I wait on you. \Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE III. Another Room in the same. 
 Enter Leonora and Waiting Women. 
 Leon. Took she no rest to-night ? 
 
 1 Worn. Not any, madam ; 
 
 I am sure she slept not. If she slumber'd, 
 
 straight, 
 
 As if some dreadful vision had appear'd, 
 She started up, her hair unbound, and with 
 Distracted looks staring about the chamber, 
 She asks aloud, Where is Martina ? where 
 Have you conceal' d him f sometimes names 
 
 Antonio, 
 
 Trembling in every joint, her brows con- 
 tracted, 
 
 Her fair face as 'twere changed into a curse, 
 Her hands held up thus ; and, as if her 
 
 words 
 Were too big to find passage through her 
 
 mouth, 
 She groans, then throws herself upon her 
 
 bed, 
 Beating her breast. 
 
 Leon. 'Tis wonderous strange. 
 
 2 Worn. Nay, more ; 
 
 She that of late vouchsafed not to be seen, 
 But so adorn'd as if she were to rival 
 Nero's Poppaea, or the Egyptian queen, 
 Now, careless of her beauties, when we offer 
 Our service, she contemns it. 
 
 Leon. Does she not 
 Sometimes forsake her chamber? 
 
 2 Worn. Much about 
 This hour ; then, with a strange unsettled 
 
 gait, 
 She measures twice or thrice the gallery, 
 
 Silent, and frowning, (we dare not speak to 
 
 her,) 
 And then returns. She's come, pray you, 
 
 now observe her. 
 
 Enter Almira in black, carelessly habited. 
 
 Aim. Why are my eyes fix'd on the 
 
 ground, and not 
 
 Bent upwards ? ha ! that which was mortal of 
 My dear Martino, as a debt to nature, 
 I know this mother earth hath sepulchred ; 
 But his diviner part, his soul, o'er which 
 The tyrant Death, nor yet the fatal sword 
 Of curs'd Antonio, his instrument, 
 Had the least power, borne upon angels' wings 
 Appointed to that office, mounted far 
 Above the firmament. 
 
 Leon. Strange imagination ! 
 Dear cousin, your Martino lives. 
 
 Aim. I know you, 
 
 And that in this you flatter me ; he's dead, 
 As much as could die of him : but look 
 
 yonder ! 
 
 Amongst a million of glorious lights 
 That deck the heavenly canopy, I have 
 Discern 'd his soul, transform'd into a star. 
 Do you not see it ? 
 Leon. Lady ! 
 
 Aim. Look with my eyes. 
 What splendour circles it ! the heavenly 
 
 archer, 
 
 Not far off distant, appears dim with envy, 
 Viewing himself outshined. Bright con- 
 stellation ! 
 Dart down thy beams of pity on Almira, 
 And, since thou find'st such grace where 
 
 now thou art, 
 
 As I did truly love thee on the earth, 
 Like a kind harbinger, prepare my lodging, 
 And place me near thee ! 
 
 Leon. I much more than fear 
 She'll grow into a frenzy. 
 
 Aim. How ? what's this ! 
 A. dismal sound ! come nearer, cousin ; 
 Your ear close to the ground, closer, ' 
 
 you. 
 
 Do you howl ? are you there, Antonio ? 
 Leon. Where, sweet lady? 
 Aim. In the vault, in hell, on the infernal 
 
 rack, 
 Where murderers are tormented: yerk 
 
 him soundly, 
 Twas Rhadamanth's sentence ; do your 
 
 office, Furies. 
 How he roars ! What ! plead to me to 
 
 mediate for you ! 
 I'm deaf, I cannot hear you. 
 
 Leon. 'Tis but fancy, 
 Collect yourself. 
 
 n;lay I 
 r, I pray 
 
 .io? - lj 
 
502 
 
 A VERY WOMAN. 
 
 Aim. Leave babbling ; 'tis rare music ! 
 Rhamnusia plays on a pair of tongs 
 Red hot, and Proserpine dances to the 
 
 consort ; 
 
 Pluto sits laughing by too. So ! enough : 
 I do begin to pity him. 
 
 Leon. I wish, madam, 
 You would shew it to yourself. 
 
 2 Worn. Her fit begins 
 To leave her. 
 
 Aim. Qh my_brains ! are you there, 
 cousin ? 
 
 Leon. Now she speaks temperately. I 
 
 am ever ready 
 To do you service' : how do you ? 
 
 Aim. Very much troubled. 
 I have had the strangest waking dream of hell 
 And heaven I know not what. 
 
 Leon. My lord your father 
 Is come to visit you ; as you would not 
 
 grieve him 
 
 That is so tender of you, entertain him 
 With a becoming duty. 
 
 Enter Viceroy, Duke of Messina, Pedro, 
 and Attendants. 
 
 Vice. Still forlorn ! 
 No comfort, my Almira ? 
 Duke. In your sorrow, 
 For my Martino, madam, you have express'd 
 All possible love and tenderness ; too much 
 
 of it 
 Will wrong yourself, and him. He may 
 
 live, lady, 
 (For we are not past hope,) with his future 
 
 service, 
 In some part to deserve it. 
 
 Aim. If heaven please 
 To be so gracious to me, I will serve him 
 With such obedience, love, and humbleness, 
 That I will rise up an example for 
 Good \vives to follow : but until I have 
 Assurance what fate will determine of me, 
 Thus, like a desolate widow, give me leave 
 To weep for him ; for, should he die, I have 
 
 vow'd 
 
 Not to outlive him ; and my humble suit is, 
 One monument may cover us, and Antonio 
 (In justice you must grant me that) be 
 
 offer'd 
 
 A sacrifice to our ashes. 
 Vice. Prithee put off 
 These sad thoughts ; both shall live, I doubt 
 
 it not, 
 A happy pair. 
 
 Enter Cuculo, and Borachia. 
 
 Cue. O sir, the foulest treason 
 That ever was discover'd ! 
 
 Vice. Speak it, that 
 We may prevent it. 
 
 Cue. Nay, 'tis past prevention : 
 Though you allow me wise, (in modesty, 
 I will not say oraculous,) I cannot help it. ' 
 I am a statesman, and some say a wise one ; : 
 But I could never conjure, nor divine 
 Of things to come. 
 
 Vice. Leave fooling : to the point ; 
 What treason ? 
 
 Cue. The false prince, don John Antonio, 
 Is fled. 
 
 Vice. It is not possible. 
 
 Pedro. Peace, screech-owl. 
 
 Cue. I must speak, and it shall out, sir ; 
 
 the captain 
 You trusted with the fort is run away too. 
 
 Aim. O miserable woman! I defy 
 All comfort : cheated too of my revenge ! 
 As you are my father, sir, and you my 
 
 brother, 
 I will not curse you ; but I dare, and will 
 
 say, 
 
 You are unjust and treacherous. If there be 
 A way to death, I'll find it. \Exit. 
 
 Vice. Follow her, 
 
 She'll do some violent act upon herself ; 
 Till she be better temper 'd, bind her hands. 
 And fetch the doctor to her. 
 
 [Exeunt Leonora, and Waiting Women. 
 
 Had not you 
 A hand in this ? 
 
 Pedro. I, sir ! I never knew 
 Such disobedience. 
 
 Vice. My honour's touch'd in't : 
 Let gallies be mann'd forth in his pursuit, 
 Search even' port and harbour ; if I live, 
 He shall not 'scape thus. 
 Duke. Fine hypocrisy ! 
 Away, dissemblers ! 'tis confederacy 
 Betwixt thy son, and self, and the false cap- 
 tain, 
 He could not thus have vanish'd else. You 
 
 have murder'd 
 
 My son amongst you, and now murder jus- 
 tice : 
 
 You know it most impossible he should live, 
 Howe'er the doctor, for your ends, dissem- 
 bled, 
 And you have shifted hence Antonio. 
 
 Vice. Messina, thou'rt a crazed and 
 
 grieved old man, 
 
 And being in my court, protected by 
 The law of hospitality, or I should 
 Give you a sharper answer : may I perish, 
 If I knew of his flight ! 
 
 Duke. Fire, then, the castle. 
 Hang up the captain's wife and children. 
 Vice. Fie, sir ! 
 
A VERY WOMAN. 
 
 Pedro. My lord, you are uncharitable ; 
 
 capital treasons 
 Exact not so much. 
 
 Duke. Thanks, most noble signior ! 
 We ever had your good word and your love. 
 
 Cue. Sir, I dare pass my word,' my lords 
 
 are clear 
 
 Of any imputation in this case 
 You seem to load them with. 
 
 Duke. Impertinent fool ! 
 
 No, no ; the loving faces you put on, 
 Have been but grinning visors : you have 
 
 juggled me 
 
 Out of my son, and out of justice too ; 
 But Spain shall do me right, believe me, 
 
 Viceroy : 
 
 There I will force it from thee by the king. 
 He shall not eat nor sleep in peace for me, 
 Till I am righted for this treachery. 
 
 Vice. Thy worst, Messina ! since no rea- 
 son can 
 
 Qualify thy intemperance ; the corruption 
 Of my subordinate ministers cannot wrong 
 My true integrity. Let privy searchers 
 Examine all the land. 
 
 Pedro. Fair fall Antonio ! [Aside. 
 
 [ExcuntViczroy, Pedro, and Attendants. 
 
 Cue. This is my wife, my lord ; troth speak 
 
 your conscience, 
 Is't not a goodly dame ? 
 
 Duke. She is no less, sir ; 
 I will make use of these : may I entreat you 
 To call my niece. 
 
 Dora. With speed, sir. [Exit Borachia. 
 
 Cue. You may, my lord, suspect me 
 As an agent in these state-conveyances : 
 Let signior Cuculo, then, be never more, 
 For all his place, wit, and authority, 
 Held a most worthy, honest gentleman. 
 
 Re-enter Borachia with Leonora. 
 
 Duke. I do acquit you, signior. Niece, 
 
 you see 
 To what extremes I am driven ; the cunning 
 
 viceroy, 
 And his son Pedro, having express'd too 
 
 plainly 
 
 Their cold affections to my son Martino : 
 And therefore I conjure thee, Leonora, 
 By all thy hopes from me, which is my 
 
 dukedom 
 
 If my son fail, however, all thy fortunes ; 
 Though heretofore some love hath past 
 
 betwixt 
 
 Don Pedro, and thyself, abjure him now : 
 And as thou keep'st Almira company, 
 In this her desolation, so in hate 
 To this young Pedro, for thy cousin's love, 
 Be her associate ; or assure thvself, 
 
 I cast thee like a stranger from my blood. 
 If I do ever hear thou see'st, or send'st 
 Token, or receiv'st message by yon heaven, 
 I never more will own thee ! 
 
 Leon. O, dear uncle ! 
 You have put a tyrannous yoke upon my 
 
 heart, 
 And it will break it. [Exit. 
 
 Duke. Gravest lady, you 
 May be a great assister in my ends. 
 I buy your diligence thus : divide this 
 
 couple, 
 
 Hinder their interviews ; feign 'tis her will 
 To give him no admittance, if he crave it ; 
 And thy rewards shall be thine own desires : 
 Whereto, good sir, but add your friendly aids, 
 And use me to my uttermost. 
 
 Cue. My lord, 
 
 If my wife please, I dare not contradict. 
 Borachia, what do you say ? 
 
 Bora. I say, my lord, 
 I know my place ; and be assured, I will 
 Keep fire and tow asunder. 
 
 Duke. You in this 
 Shall much deserve me. [Exit. 
 
 Cue. We have ta'en upon us 
 A heavy charge : I hope you'll now forbear 
 The excess of wine. 
 
 Bora. I will do what I please. 
 This day the market's kept for slaves ; go you, 
 And buy me a fine-timber'd one to assist me ; 
 I must be better waited on. 
 
 Cue. Anything, 
 So you'll leave wine. 
 
 Bora. Still prating ! 
 
 Cue. I am gone, duck. [Exit. 
 
 Bora. Pedro ! so hot upon the scent ! I'll 
 fit him. 
 
 Re-enter Pedro. 
 
 Pedro. Donna Borachia, you most happily 
 Are met to pleasure me. 
 
 Bora. It may be so ; 
 
 I use to pleasure many. Here lies my way, 
 I do beseech you, sir, keep on your voyage. 
 
 Pedro. Be not so short, sweet lady, I must 
 with you. 
 
 Bora. With me, sir ! I beseech you, sir 
 
 why, what, sir, 
 See you in me? 
 
 Pedro. Do not mistake me, lady ; 
 Nothing but honesty. 
 
 Bora. Hang honesty ! 
 Trump me not up with honesty : do you 
 
 mark, sir, 
 
 I have a charge, sir, and a special charge, sir, 
 And 'tis not honesty can win on me, sir. 
 
 Pedro. Prithee conceive me rightly. 
 
 Bora. I conceive you ! 
 
504 
 
 A VERY WOMAN. 
 
 Pedro. But understand. 
 Bora. I will not understand, sir, 
 I cannot, nor I do not understand, sir. 
 Pedro. Prithee, Borachia, let me see my 
 
 mistress, 
 But look upon her ; stand you by. 
 
 Bora. How's this ! 
 
 Shall I stand by ? what do you think of me? 
 Now, by the virtue of the place I hold, 
 You are a paitry lord to tempt my trust thus : 
 I am no Helen, nor no Hecuba, 
 To be deflower'd of my loyalty 
 With your fair language. 
 
 Pedro. Thou mistak'st me still. 
 
 Bora. It may be so, my place will bear 
 
 me out in't, 
 And will mistake you still, make you your 
 
 best on't. 
 Pedro. A pox upon thee ! let me but behold 
 
 her. 
 Bora. A plague upon you ! you shall never 
 
 see her. 
 Pedro. This is a crone in grain ! thou art 
 
 so testy 
 Prithee, take breath, and know thy friends. 
 
 Bora. I will not, 
 I have no friends, nor I will have none this 
 
 way : 
 And, now I think on't better, why will you 
 
 see her ? 
 Pedro. Because she loves me dearly, I her 
 
 equally. 
 Bora. She hates you damnably, most 
 
 wickedly, 
 
 Build that upon my word, most wickedly ; 
 And swears her eyes are sick when they 
 
 behold you. 
 
 How fearfully have I heard her rail upon you, 
 And cast and rail again ; and cast again ; 
 Call for hot waters, and then rail again ! 
 Pedro. How ! 'tis not possible. 
 Bora. I have heard her swear 
 (How justly, you best know, and where the 
 
 cause lies) 
 That you are I shame to tell it but it must 
 
 out 
 
 Fie, fie ! why, how have you deserv'd it ? 
 Pedro. I am what? 
 Bora. The beastliest man why, what a 
 
 grief must this be? 
 (Sir-reverence of the company) a rank 
 
 whoremaster : 
 Ten livery whores, she assured me on her 
 
 credit, 
 With weeping eyes she spake it, and seven 
 
 citizens, 
 
 Besides all voluntaries that serve under you, 
 j And of all countries. 
 
 Pedro. This must needs be a lie. 
 i 
 
 Bora. Besides, you are so careless of your 
 
 body, 
 
 Which is a foul fault in you. 
 Pedro. Leave your fooling, 
 For this shall be a fable : happily, 
 My sister's anger may grow strong against 
 
 me, 
 Which thou mistak'st. 
 
 Bora. She hates you very well too, 
 But your mistress hates you heartily : look 
 
 upon you ! 
 Upon my conscience, she should see the 
 
 devil first, 
 With eyes as big as saucers ; when I but 
 
 named you, 
 She has leap'd back thirty feet : if once she 
 
 smell you, 
 
 For certainly you are rank, she says, ex- 
 treme rank, 
 And the wind stand with you too, she's 
 
 gone for ever ! 
 
 Pedro. For all this, I would see her. 
 Bora. That's all one. 
 Have you new eyes when those are scratch'd 
 
 out, or a nose 
 To clap on warm ? have you proof against 
 
 a piss-pot, 
 Which, if they bid me, I must fling upon 
 
 you? 
 
 Pedro. I shall not see her, then, you say ? 
 Bora. It seems so. 
 Pedro. Prithee, be thus far friend then, 
 
 good Borachia, 
 
 To give her but this letter, and this ring, 
 And leave thy pleasant lying, which I pardon : 
 But leave it in her pocket ; there's no harm 
 
 in't. 
 I'll take thee up a petticoat, will that please 
 
 thee? 
 Bora. Take up my petticoat ! I scorn the 
 
 motion, 
 
 I scorn it with my heels ; take up my petti- 
 coat ! 
 
 Pedro. And why thus hot ? 
 Bora. Sir, you shall find me hotter, 
 If you take up my petticoat. 
 Pedro. I'll give thee a new petticoat. 
 Bora. I scorn the gift take up my petti- 
 coat ! 
 
 Alas ! my lord, you are too young, my lord, 
 Too young, my lord, to circumcise me that 
 
 way. 
 
 Take up my petticoat ! I am a woman, 
 A woman of another way, my lord, 
 A gentlewoman : he that takes up my petti- 
 coat, 
 
 Shall have enough to do, I warrant him, 
 I would fain see the proudest of you all so 
 lusty. 
 
A VERY WOMAN. 
 
 SOS 
 
 Pedro. Thou art disposed still to mistake 
 
 me. 
 
 Bora. Petticoat ! 
 You shew now what you are ; but do your 
 
 worst, sir. 
 
 Pedro. A wild-fire take thee ! 
 Bora. I ask no favour of you, 
 And so I leave you ; and withal, I charge you 
 In my own name, for, sir, I'd have you know 
 
 it, 
 
 Tn this place I present your father's person, 
 Upon your life, not dare to follow me, 
 
 For if you do [Exit. 
 
 Pedro. Go ! and the pox go with thee, 
 If thou hast so much moisture to receive 
 
 them ! 
 ! For thou wilt have them, though a horse 
 
 bestow them. 
 
 I must devise a way for I must see her, 
 And very suddenly ; and, madam petticoat, 
 If all the wit I have, and this can do, 
 I'll make you break your charge, and your 
 hope too. ^ [Exit. 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 SCENE I. The Slave Market. 
 Enter Slave-merchant and Servant, with. 
 Antonio and Captain disguised, and 
 dressed as Slaves, English Slave, and 
 divers other Slaves. 
 Merck. Come, rank yourselves, and stand 
 
 out handsomely. 
 Now ring the bell, that they may know 
 
 my market. 
 Stand you two here; [To Antonio and the 
 
 Captain.] you are personable men, 
 And apt to yield good sums, if women 
 
 cheapen. 
 
 Put me that pig-complexion'd fellow behind, 
 He will spoil my sale else ; the slave looks 
 
 like famine. 
 Sure he was got in a cheese-press, the whey 
 
 runs out on's nose yet. 
 He will not yield above a peck of oysters 
 If I can get a quart of wine in too, you are 
 
 gone, sir: 
 
 Why sure, thou hadst no father, 
 i Slave. Sure I know not. 
 Merch. No, certainly ; a March frog 
 
 [leap'd] thy mother ; 
 
 Thou'rt but a monster-paddock. Look who 
 
 comes, sirrah. [Exit Servant. 
 
 And next prepare thesong, anddo it lively. 
 
 Your tricks too, sirrah, they are ways to 
 
 catch the buyer, [ To the English Slave. 
 
 And if you do them well, they'll prove good 
 
 dowries. 
 How now ? 
 
 Re-enter Servant. 
 Serv. They come, sir, with their bags full 
 
 loaden. 
 Merch. Reach me my stool. O ! here 
 
 they come. 
 
 Enter Paulo, Apothecary, Cuculo, and 
 
 Citizens. 
 Cue. That's he. 
 
 He never fails monthly to sell his slaves here ; 
 He buys them presently upon their taking, 
 And so disperses them to every market. 
 Merch. Begin the song, and chant it 
 merrily. 
 
 A SONG, by one of the Slaves. 
 
 Well done. 
 Paul. Good morrow ! 
 Merch. Morrow to you, signiors ! 
 Paul. We come to look upon your slaves, 
 
 and buy too, 
 
 If we can like the persons, and the prices. 
 Cue. They shew fine active fellows. 
 Merch. They are no less, sir, 
 And people of strong labours. 
 Paul. That's in the proof, sir. 
 Apoth. Pray what's the price of this red- 
 bearded fellow? 
 If his gall be good, I have certain uses for 
 
 him. 
 
 Merch. Mysorrelslavesareofalowerprice, 
 Because the colour's faint : fifty chequins, 
 
 sir. 
 
 Apoth. What be his virtues ? 
 Merch. He will poison rats ; 
 Make him but angry, and his eyes kill spiders ; 
 Let him but, fasting, spit upon a toad, 
 And presently it bursts, and dies ; his dreams 
 
 kill: 
 
 He'll run you in a wheel, and draw up water, 
 But if his nose drop in't, 'twill kill an army. 
 When you have worn him to the bones with 
 
 uses, 
 
 Thrust him into an oven luted well, 
 Dry him, and beat him, flesh and bone, to 
 
 powder, 
 
 And that kills scabs, and aches of all climates. 
 Apoth. Pray at what distance may I talk 
 
 to him ? 
 Merch. Give him but sage and butter in 
 
 a morning, 
 And there's no fear : but keep him from all 
 
 women, 
 For there his poison swells most. 
 
 Apoth. I will have him. 
 Cannot he breed a plague too ? 
 
 Merch. Yes, yes, yes, 
 
 Feed him with logs ; pi-vvamm. Now to 
 you, sir. 
 
A VERY WOMAN. 
 
 Do you like this slave ? 
 
 [Pointing to Antonio. 
 Cue. Yes, if I like his price well. 
 Merck. The price is full an hundred, j 
 
 nothing bated. 
 Sirrah, sell the Moors there : feel, he's high 
 
 and lusty, 
 And of a gamesome nature ; bold, and secret, 
 
 He stole, for I never bought him, and will 
 steal into yours, 
 
 An you stay a little longer, 
 you 
 
 Now, if any of 
 
 Be given to the excellent art of lying, 
 Behold, before you here, the masterpiece ! 
 He'll outlie him that taught him, monsieur 
 devil, 
 
 Apt to win favour of the man that owns him, Offer to swear he has eaten nothing in a 
 By diligence and duty : look upon him. 
 
 Paul. Do you hear, sir? 
 
 Merck. I'll be with you presently. 
 
 twelvemonth, 
 
 When his mouth's full of meat. 
 Cue. Pray keep him, he's a jewel ; 
 
 Mark but his limbs, that slave will cost you ' And here's your money for this fellow. 
 
 fourscore; \Pointingto Afo Captain. | Merck. He's yours, sir. 
 An easy price turn him about, and view , 
 
 him. 
 For these two, sir ? why, they are the finest 
 
 children 
 
 Twins, on my credit, sir. Do you see this 
 
 boy, sir? 
 He will run as far from you in an hour 
 
 1 Cit. Will he so, sir ? 
 
 Merck. Conceive me rightly, if upon an 
 
 errand, 
 As any horse you have. 
 
 2 Cit. What will this girl do ? 
 Merck. Sure no harm at all, sir, 
 
 For she sleeps most an end. 
 
 Oil. An excellent housewife. 
 Of what religion are they ? 
 
 Merck. What you will, sir, 
 So there be meat and drink in't : they'll do 
 
 little 
 
 That shall offend you, for their chief desire 
 Is to do nothing at all, sir. 
 
 Cue. A hundred is too much. 
 
 Merck. Not a doit bated : 
 He's a brave slave, his eye shews activeness ; 
 Fire and the mettle of a man dwell in him. 
 Here is one you shall have 
 
 Cue. For what? 
 
 Merck. For nothing, 
 And thank you too. 
 
 Paul. What can he do? 
 
 Merck. Why, anything that's ill, 
 And never blush at 'it : he's so true a thief, 
 That he'll steal irom himself, and think he 
 
 has got by it. 
 He stole out of his mother's belly, being an 
 
 infant ; 
 
 And from a lousy nurse he stole his nature, 
 From a dog his look, and from an ape his 
 
 nimbleness ; 
 He will look in your face and pick your 
 
 pockets, 
 
 Rob ye the most wise rat of a cheese-paring; 
 There, where a cat will go in, he will follow, 
 His body has no backbone. Into my com- 
 pany 
 
 Cue. Come, follow me. 
 
 [Exit with Antonio. 
 Cit. Twenty chequins for these two. 
 Merck. For five and twenty take them. 
 Cit. There's your money ; 
 I'll have them, if it be to sing in cages. 
 Merck. Give them hard eggs, you never 
 
 had such blackbirds. 
 Cit. Is she a maid, dost think ? 
 Merck. I dare not swear, sir : 
 She is nine year old, at ten you shall find 
 
 few here. 
 
 Cit. A merry fellow ! thou say'st true. 
 Come, children. 
 
 [Exit -with the two Moors. 
 Paul. Here, tell your money ; if his life 
 
 but answer 
 His outward promises, I have bought him 
 
 cheap, sir. 
 Merck. Too cheap, o' conscience : he's a 
 
 pregnant knave ; 
 
 Full of fine thought, I warrant him. 
 Paul. He's but weak-timber'd. 
 Merck. 'Tis the better, sir ; 
 He will turn gentleman a great deal 
 
 sooner. 
 
 Paul. Very weak legs. 
 Merck. Strong, as the time allows, sir. 
 Paul. What's that fellow? 
 Merck. Who, this ? the finest thing in all 
 
 the world, sir, 
 The punctuallest, and the perfectest ; an 
 
 English metal, 
 
 But coin'd in France : Your servant's ser- 
 vant, sir! 
 Do you understand that ? or your shadow s 
 
 servant ! 
 Will you buy him to carry in a box ? Kiss 
 
 your hand, sirrah ; 
 Let fall your cloak on one shoulder ; face 
 
 to your left hand ; 
 Feather your hat ; slope your hat ; now 
 
 charge. Your honour, 
 
 What think you of this fellow ? 
 
 ] } aiil. Indeed, 1 know not ; 
 
A VERY WOMAN. 
 
 507 
 
 ostures. 
 
 .1 never saw such an ape before : but, hark 
 
 you, 
 Are these things serious in his nature ? 
 
 Merck. Yes, yes ; 
 .Part of his creed : come, do some more 
 
 devices. 
 
 Quarrel a little, and take him for your enemy, 
 
 .Do it in dumb show. Now observe him 
 
 neai'ly. 
 
 {The English Sfaxz practises his posh 
 Paul. This fellow's mad, stark mad. 
 Merck. Believe they are all so : 
 I have sold a hundred of them. 
 
 Paul. A strange nation ! 
 What may the women be ? 
 Merck. As mad as they, 
 And, as I have heard for truth, a great deal 
 
 madder : 
 Yet, you may find some civil things amongst 
 
 them, 
 But they are not respected. Nay, never 
 
 wonder ; 
 
 They have a city, sir, I have been in i 
 And therefore dare affirm it, where, if you 
 
 saw 
 
 With what a load of vanity 'tis fraughted, 
 How like an everlasting morris-dance it looks, 
 Nething but hobby-horse, and maid Marianj 
 You would start indeed. 
 
 Paul. They are handsome men? 
 Merck. Yes, if they would thank their 
 
 maker, 
 And seek no further ; but they have new 
 
 creators, 
 God-tailor, and god-mercer : a kind of Jews, 
 
 sir, 
 
 But fall'n into idolatry ; for they worship 
 Nothing with so much service, as the cow- 
 calves. -r 
 
 Paul. What do you mean by cow-calves j 
 Merck. Why, their women. 
 Will you see him do any more tricks ? 
 
 Paul. 'Tis enough, I thank you ; 
 But yet I'll buy him, for the rareness of him 
 He may make my princely patient mirth 
 
 and that done, 
 
 I'll chain him in my study, that at void hours 
 I may run o'er the story of his country.- 
 Merck. His price is forty. 
 Paul. .Hold I'll once be foolish, 
 And buy a lump of levity to laugh at. 
 Apoth. Will your worship walk ? 
 Paul. How now, apothecary, 
 Have you been buying too ? 
 
 Apoth. A little, sir, 
 A dose or two of mischief. 
 Paul. Fare ye well, sir, 
 As these prove, we shall look the next wine 
 for you. 
 
 Merck. I shall bs with you, sir. 
 
 Paul. Who bought this fellow ? 
 
 2 Cit. Not I. 
 
 Apoth. Nor I. 
 
 Paul. Why does he follow tis, then ? 
 
 Merck. Did not I tell you he would steal 
 
 to you? 
 2 at. Sirrah, 
 You mouldy-chaps ! know your crib, I would 
 
 wish you, 
 And get from whence you came, 
 i Slave. I came from no place. 
 Paul. Wilt thou be my fool? for fools, 
 
 they say, will tell truth, 
 i Slave. Yes, if you will give me leave, 
 
 sir, to abuse you, 
 For I can do that naturally. 
 Paul. And I can beat you. 
 i Slave. I should be sorry else, sir. 
 Merck. He looks for that, as duly as his 
 
 victuals, 
 
 A nd will be extreme sick when he is not beaten . 
 He will be as wanton, when he has a bone 
 
 broken, 
 
 As a cat in a bowl on the water. 
 Paul. You will part with him ? 
 Merck. To such a friend as you, sir. 
 Pa^lL And without money? 
 Merck. Not a penny, signior ; 
 And would he were better for you ! 
 
 Paul. Follow me, then ; 
 The knave may teach me something. 
 
 i Slave. Something that 
 You dearly may repent ; howe'er you scorn 
 
 me, 
 
 The slave may prove your master. 
 Paul. Farewell once more ! 
 Merck. Farewell ! and when the wind 
 serves next, expect me. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE II. A Room in the Viceroy's 
 
 Palace. 
 
 Enter Cuculo and Antonio. 
 Cue. Come, sir, you are mine, sir, now ; 
 
 you serve a man, sir, 
 That, when you know more, you will 
 
 find 
 
 Ant. I hope so. 
 
 Cue. What dost thou hope? 
 
 Ant. To find you a kind master. 
 
 Cue. Find you yourself a diligent true 
 
 servant, 
 
 And take the precept of the wise before you, 
 
 And then you may hope, sirrah. Understand, 
 
 You serve me what is ME? a man of credit. 
 
 Ant. Yes, sir. 
 
 Cue. Of special credit, special office ; hear 
 
 first 
 And understand again, of special office : 
 
508 
 
 A VERY WOMAN. 
 
 A man that nods upon the thing he meets, 
 And that thing bows. 
 
 Ant. Tis fit it should be so, sir. 
 Cue. It shall be so : a man near all im- 
 portance. 
 
 Dost thou digest this truly ? 
 Ant. I hope I shall, sir. 
 Cue. Besides, thou art to serve a noble 
 
 mistress, 
 
 Of equal place and trust. Serve usefully, 
 Serve all with diligence, but her delights ; 
 There make your stop. She is a woman, 
 
 sirrah, 
 
 And though a cull'd out virtue, yet a woman. 
 Thou art not troubled with the strength of 
 
 blood, 
 And stirring faculties, for she'll shew a fair 
 
 one? 
 Ant. As I am a man, I may ; but as I am 
 
 your man, 
 Your trusty, useful man, those thoughts shall 
 
 perish. 
 Cue. 'Tis apt, and well distinguish'd. The 
 
 next precept, 
 And then, observe me, you have all your 
 
 duty ; 
 Keep, as thou'dst keep thine eye-sight, all 
 
 wine from her, 
 All talk of wine. 
 
 Ant. Wine is a comfort, sir. 
 
 Cue. A devil, sir ! let her not dream of 
 
 wine ; 
 Make her believe there neither is, nor was 
 
 wine ; 
 Swear it. 
 
 Ant. Will you have me lie? 
 Cue. To my end, sir : 
 For if one drop of wine but creep into her, 
 She is the wisest womaninthe world straight, 
 And all the women in the world together 
 Are but a whisper to her ; a thousand iron 
 
 mills 
 
 Can be heard no further than a pair of nut- 
 crackers. 
 
 Keep her from wine ; wine makes her dan- 
 gerous. 
 Fall back my lord Don Pedro ! 
 
 Enter Pedro. 
 
 Pedro. Now, master Office, 
 
 What is the reason that your vigilant Great- 
 ness, 
 
 And your wife's wonderful Wiseness, have 
 lock'd up from me 
 
 The way to see my mistress ? Whose dog's 
 dead now, 
 
 That you observe these vigils ? 
 Cue. Very well, my lord. 
 
 Belike, we observe no law then, nor no order, 
 
 Nor feel no power, nor will, of him that 
 
 made them, 
 
 When state-commands thus slightly are dis- 
 puted. 
 Pedro. What state command ? dost thou 
 
 think any state 
 
 Would give thee anything but eggs to keep, 
 Or trust thee with a' secret above lousing ? 
 
 Cue. No, no, my lord, I am not passionate; 
 You cannot work me that way, to betray me. 
 A point there is in't, that you must not see, sir, 
 A secret and a serious point of state too ; 
 And do not urge it further, do not, lord, 
 It will not take ; you deal with them that 
 
 wink not. 
 You tried my wife. Alas ! you thought she 
 
 was foolish, 
 Won with an empty word ; you have not 
 
 found it. 
 Pedro. I have found a pair of coxcombs, 
 
 that I am sure on. 
 Cue. Your lordship may say three : 1 ant 
 
 not passionate. 
 Pedro. How's that ? 
 
 Cue. Your lordship found a faithful gentle- 
 woman, 
 
 Strong, and inscrutable as the viceroy's heart ;. 
 A woman of another making, lord : 
 And, lest she might partake with woman's 
 
 weakness, 
 
 I've purchased her a rib to make her perfect, 
 A rib that will not shrink, nor break in the 
 
 bending. 
 
 This trouble we are put to, to prevent things, 
 Which your good lordship holds but neces- 
 sary-. 
 Pedro. A fellow of a handsome and free 
 
 promise, 
 And much, methinks, Tm taken with his 
 
 countenance. 
 Do you serve this yeoman, porter? 
 
 [ To Antonio, 
 Cue. Not a word. 
 Basta! Your lordship may discourse your 
 
 freedom ; 
 
 He is a slave of state, sir, so of silence. 
 Pedro. You are very punctual, state-cut,. 
 
 fare ye well ; 
 I shall find time to fit you too, I fear not. 
 
 [Exit. 
 Cue. And I shall fit you, lord : you would 
 
 be billing ; 
 You are too hot, sweet lord, too hot. Go 
 
 you home, 
 And there observe these lessons I first taught 
 
 you. 
 
 Look to your charge abundantly ; be wary, 
 Trusty and wary ; much weight hangs upon 
 
A VERY WOMAN. 
 
 509 
 
 Watchful and wary too ! this lord is dan- 
 gerous, 
 
 Take courage and resist : for other uses, 
 
 Your mistress will inform you. Go, be 
 faithful, 
 
 And, do you hear ? no wine. 
 
 Ant. 1 shall observe, sir. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE III. Another Room in the same. 
 Enter Paulo and Surgeons. 
 
 Paul. He must take air. 
 
 1 Surg. Sir, under your correction, 
 The violence of motion may make 
 His wounds bleed fresh. 
 
 2 Surg. And he hath lost already 
 Too much blood, in my judgment. 
 
 Paul. I allow that ; 
 
 But to choke up his spirits in a dark room, 
 Is far more dangerous. He comes ; no 
 questions. 
 
 Enter Cardenes. 
 
 Car. Certain we have no reason, nor that 
 
 soul 
 
 Created of that pureness books persuade us : 
 We understand not, sure, nor feel that 
 
 sweetness 
 That men call virtue's chain to link our 
 
 actions. 
 
 Our imperfections form, and flatter us ; 
 A will to rash and rude things is our reason, 
 And that we glory in, that makes us guilty. 
 Why did I wrong this man? unmanly wrong 
 
 'him? 
 
 Unmannerly? He gave me no occasion. 
 In all my heat how noble was his temper ! 
 And, when I had forgot both man and man- 
 hood, 
 
 With what a gentle bravery did he chide me ! 
 And, say he had kill'd me, whither had I 
 
 travell'd ? 
 Kill'd me in all my rage oh, how it shakes 
 
 me ! 
 Why didst thou do this, fool? a woman 
 
 taught me, 
 
 The devil and his angel, woman, bade me. 
 I am a beast, the wildest of all beasts, 
 And like a beast I make my blood my 
 
 master. 
 
 Farewell, farewell, forever, name of mistress! 
 Out of my heart I cross thee ; love and 
 
 women 
 Out of my thoughts. 
 
 Paul. Ay, now you shew your manhood. 
 , Car. Doctor, believe me, I have bought 
 
 my knowledge, 
 And dearly, doctor : they are dangerous 
 
 creatures, 
 
 They sting at both ends, doctor ; worthless 
 
 creatures, 
 
 And all their loves and favours end in ruins. 
 Paul. To man, indeed. 
 Car. Why, now thou tak'st me rightly. 
 What can they shew, or by what act deserve 
 
 us, 
 While we have Virtue, and pursue her 
 
 beauties ! 
 Paul. And yet I've heard of many virtuous 
 
 women. 
 
 Car. Not many, doctor ; there your read- 
 ing fails you : 
 Would there were more, and in their loves 
 
 less dangers ! 
 Paul. Love is a noble thing without all 
 
 doubt, sir. 
 
 Car. Yes, and an excellent to cure the 
 itch. [Exit. 
 
 1 Surg. Strange melancholy ! 
 Paul. By degrees 'twill lessen : 
 
 Provide your things. 
 
 2 Surg. Our care shall not be wanting. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE IV. A Room in Cuculo's House. .. 
 Enter Leonora and Almira. 
 
 Leon. Good madam, for your health's 
 
 sake clear those clouds up, 
 That feed upon your beauties like diseases. 
 Time's hand will turn again, and what he 
 
 ruins 
 
 Gently restore, and wipe off all your sorrows. 
 Believe you are to blame, much to blame, 
 
 lady; 
 You tempt his loving care whose eye has 
 
 number'd 
 All our afflictions, and the time to cure 
 
 them: 
 
 You rather with this torrent choakhis mercies, 
 Than gently slide into his providence. 
 Sorrows are well allow'd, and sweet nature, 
 Where they express no more than drops on 
 
 lilies ; 
 But, when they fall in storms, they bruise 
 
 our hopes ; 
 Make us unable, though our comforts meet 
 
 us, 
 To hold our heads up : Come, you shall 
 
 take comfort ; 
 This is a sullen grief becomes condemn'd 
 
 men, 
 That feel a weight of sorrow through their 
 
 souls : 
 Do but look up. Why, so ! is not this 
 
 better, 
 Than hanging down your head still like a 
 
 violet, 
 
A VERY WOMAN. 
 
 And dropping out those sweet eyes for a 
 
 wager ? 
 Pray you, speak a little. 
 
 Aim. Pray you, desire no more ; 
 And, if you love me, say no more. 
 
 Leon. How fain, 
 
 If I would be as wilful, and partake in't, 
 Would you destroy yourself! how often, lady, 
 Even of the same disease have you cured 
 
 me, 
 And shook me out on't ; chid me, tumbled 
 
 me, 
 
 And forced my hands, thus? 
 Aim. By these tears, no more. 
 Leon. You are too prodigal of them. Well, 
 
 I will not ; 
 For though my love bids me transgress your 
 
 will, 
 I have a service to your sorrows still. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE V. A Hall in the same. 
 Enter Pedro and Antonio. 
 
 Ant. Indeed, my lord, my place is not so 
 
 near : 
 
 I wait below stairs, and there sit, and wait 
 Who comes to seek accesses ; nor is it fit, sir, 
 My rudeness should intrude so near their 
 
 lodgings. 
 Pedro. Thou mayst invent a way, 'tis but 
 
 a trial, 
 
 But carrying up this letter, and this token, 
 And giving them discreetly to my mistress, 
 The lady Leonora : there's my purse, 
 Or anything thou'lt ask me ; if thou knew'st 
 
 me, 
 And what I may be to thee for this 
 
 courtesy 
 
 Ant. Your lordship speaks so honestly, 
 
 and freely, 
 
 That by my troth I'll venture. 
 Pedro. I dearly thank thee. 
 Ant. And it shall cost me hard ; nay, keep 
 
 your purse, sir, 
 For, though my body's bought, my mind 
 
 was never. 
 Though I am bound, my courtesies are no 
 
 slaves. 
 
 Pedro. Thou shouldst be trulv gentle. 
 Ant. If I were so, 
 
 The state I am in bids you not believe it. 
 But to the purpose, sir ; give me your letter, 
 And next your counsel, for I serve a crafty 
 
 mistress. 
 Pedro. And she must be removed, thou 
 
 wilt else ne'er do it. 
 
 Aut. Ay, there's the plague : think, and 
 I'll think awhile too. 
 
 Pedro. Her husband's suddenly fallen sick? 
 Ant. She cares not ; 
 
 If he were dead, indeed, it would do better. 
 Pedro. Would he were hang'd ! 
 Ant. Then she would run for joy, sir. 
 Pedro. Some lady crying out ? 
 Ant. She has two already. 
 Pedro. Her house afire ? 
 Ant. Let the fool, my husband, quench it. 
 This will be her answer. This may take ; it 
 
 will, sure. 
 
 Your lordship must go presently, and send me 
 Two or three bottles of your best Greek wine, 
 The strongest and the sweetest. 
 
 Pedro. Instantly : 
 But will that do ? 
 Ant. Let me alone to work it. 
 
 [Exit Pedro. 
 Wine I was charged to keep by all means 
 
 from her ; 
 
 All secret locks it opens, and all counsels, 
 That I am sure, and gives men all accesses. 
 Pray heaven she be not loving when she's 
 
 drunk now ! 
 For drunk she shall be, though my pate pay 
 
 for it. 
 
 She'll turn my stomach then abominably. 
 She has a most wicked face, and that lewd 
 
 face 
 Being a drunken face, what face will there 
 
 be! 
 
 She cannot ravish me. Now, if my master 
 Should take her so, and know I minister 'd, 
 What will his wisdom do? I hope be drunk 
 
 too, 
 And then all's right. Well, lord, to do thee 
 
 service 
 Above these puppet-plays, I keep a life 
 
 ye: 
 
 Here come the executioners. 
 
 Enter Servant with bottles. 
 
 You are welcome ; 
 Give me your load, and tell my lord I am 
 
 at it. 
 
 Serv. I will, sir ; speed you, sir. [Exit. 
 Ant. Good speed on all sides ! 
 'Tis strong, strong wine : O, the yaws that 
 
 she will make ! 
 Look to your stern, dear mistress, and steer 
 
 right, 
 Here's that will work as high as the Bay of 
 
 Portugal. 
 
 Stay, let me see I'll try her by the nose first ; 
 For, if she be a right sow, sure she 11 find it. 
 She is yonder by herself, the ladies from her. 
 Now to begin my sacrifice : [pours out some 
 
 of the wine''] she stirs, and vents it. 
 O, how she holds her nose up like a jennet 
 
A VERY WOMAN. 
 
 In the wind of a grass mare ! she has it full 
 
 now, 
 And now she comes. I'll stand aside awhile. 
 
 Enter Borachia. 
 
 Bora, [snuffing.] 'Tis wine ! ay, sure 'tis 
 
 wine ! excellent strong wine ! 
 In the must, I take it : very wine ! this way 
 
 too. 
 
 Ant. How true she hunts ! I'll make the 
 train a little longer. 
 
 [Pours out more wine. 
 Bora. Stronger and stronger still ! still ! 
 
 blessed wine ! 
 Ant. Now she hunts hot. 
 Bora. All that I can for this wine ! 
 This way it went, sure. 
 
 Ant. Now she's at a cold scent. 
 Make out your doubles, mistress. O, well 
 
 hunted ! 
 That's she ! that's she ! 
 
 Bora. O, if I could but see it ! 
 Oh what a precious scent it has ! but handle 
 
 it! 
 Ant. Now I'll untappice. 
 
 [Comes forward with the bottle. 
 Bora. What's that ? still 'tis stronger. 
 Why, how now, sirrah ! what's that? answer 
 
 quickly, 
 And to the point. 
 
 Ant. 'Tis wine, forsooth, good wine, 
 Excellent Candy wine. 
 
 Bora. 'Tis well, forsooth ! 
 Is this a drink for slaves ? why, saucy sirrah, 
 (Excellent Candy wine !) draw nearer to me, 
 Reach me the bottle : why, thou most de- 
 
 bauch'd slave : 
 
 Ant. Pray be not angry, for with all my 
 
 service 
 And pains, I purchased this for you, (I dare 
 
 not drink it,) 
 
 For you a present ; only for your pleasure ; 
 To shew in little what a thanks I owe 
 The hourly courtesies your goodness gives me. 
 Bora. And I will give thee more ; there, 
 
 kiss my hand on't. 
 Ant. I thank you dearly for your dirty 
 
 favour : 
 How rank it smells ? [Aside. 
 
 Bora. By thy leave, sweet bottle, 
 And sugar-candy wine, I now come to thee ; 
 Hold your hand under. 
 Ant. How does your worship like it ? 
 Bora. Under again again and now 
 
 come kiss me ; 
 
 I'll be a mother to thee : come, drink tome. 
 Ant. I do beseech your pardon. 
 Bora. Here's to thee, then ; 
 I am easily entreated for thy good. 
 
 'Tis naught for thee, indeed ; 'twill make thee 
 
 break out ; 
 
 Thou hast a pure complexion : now, for me 
 'Tis excellent, 'tis excellent for me. 
 Son slave, I've a cold stomach, and the 
 wind 
 
 Ant. Blows out a cry at both ends. 
 
 Bora. Kiss again. 
 
 Cherish thy lips, for thou sh alt kiss fair ladies ; 
 Son slave, I have them for thee ; I'll shew 
 thee all. 
 
 Ant. Heaven bless mine eyes ! 
 
 Bora. Even all the secrets, son slave, 
 In my dominion. 
 
 Ant. Oh ! here come the ladies ; 
 Now to my business. 
 
 Enter Leonora and Almira behind. 
 
 Leon. This air will much refresh you. 
 Aim. I must sit down. 
 Leon. Do, and take freer thoughts, 
 The place invites you ; I'll walk by like your 
 
 sentinel. 
 Bora. And thoushalt be my heir, I'll leave 
 
 thee all, 
 Heaven knows to what 'twill mount to ; but 
 
 abundance : 
 
 I'll leave thee two young ladies what think 
 you of that, boy ! 
 
 [Antonio goes to Leonora. 
 Where is the bottle? two delicate young 
 
 ladies : 
 But first you shall commit with me ; do you 
 
 mark, son? 
 And shew yourself a gentleman, that's the 
 
 truth, son. 
 Ant. Excellent lady, kissing your fair 
 
 hand, 
 And humbly craving pardon for intruding, 
 
 This letter, and this ring 
 
 Leon. From whom, I pray you, sir ? 
 Ant. From the most noble, loving lord, 
 
 don Pedro, 
 
 The servant of your virtues. 
 Bora. And prithee, good son slave, be wise 
 
 and circumspect, 
 And take heed of being o'ertaken with too 
 
 much drink ; 
 
 For it is a lamentable sin, and spoils all : 
 Why, 'tis the damnablest thing to be drunk, 
 
 son ! 
 Heaven can't endure it. And hark you, one 
 
 thing I'd have done : 
 Knock my husband on the head, as soon as 
 
 may be, 
 For he is an arrant puppy, and cannot per- 
 
 iorm 
 
 Why, where the devil is this foolish bottle ? 
 Leon. I much thank you ; 
 
512 
 
 A VERY WOMAN. 
 
 And this, sir, for your pains. 
 
 [O/ershim her purse. 
 Ant. No, gentle lady ; 
 That I can do him service is my merit, 
 My faith, my full reward. 
 
 Leon. Once more, I thank you. 
 : Since I have met so true a friend to goodness, 
 I dare deliver to your charge my answer : 
 Pray you, tell him, sir, this night I do invite 
 
 him 
 
 Tomeetmeinthe garden ; means he may find, 
 For love, they say, wants no abilities. 
 
 Ant. Nor shall he, madam, if my help may 
 
 prosper ; 
 So everlasting love and sweetness bless 
 
 you ! 
 
 She's at it still, I dare not now appear to her. 
 Aim. What fellow's that ? 
 Leon. Indeed I know not, madam ; 
 It seems of some strange country by his habit; 
 Nor can I shew you by what mystery 
 He wrought himself into this place, pro- 
 hibited. 
 
 Aim. A handsome man. 
 Leon. But of a mind more handsome. 
 Aim. Was his business to you? 
 Leon. Yes, from a friend you wot of. 
 Aim. A very handsome fello\v, 
 And well demean'd. 
 
 Leon. Exceeding well ; and speaks well. 
 Aim. And speaks well, too? 
 Leon. Ay, passing well, and freely, 
 And, as he promises, of a most clear nature ; 
 Brought up, sure, far above his shew. 
 
 Aim. It seems so : 
 I would I'd heard him, friend. Comes he 
 
 again? 
 
 Leon. Indeed I know not if he do. 
 Aim. 'Tis no matter. 
 Come, let's walk in. 
 
 Leon. I am glad you have found your 
 tongue yet. 
 
 [Exeunt Leonora and Almira. 
 Borachia sings. 
 Cue. \witkin.~\ My wife is very merry ; sure 
 
 'twas her voice : 
 Pray heaven there be no drink in't, then I 
 
 allow it. 
 
 Ant. Tis sure my master. 
 Enter Cuculo. 
 
 Now the game begins ; 
 Here will be spitting of fire o' both sides 
 
 presently ; 
 
 Send me but safe deliver'd ! 
 Cue. O, my heart aches ! 
 My head aches too : mercy o' me, she's 
 
 perish'd ! 
 She has gotten wine ! she is gone for ever ! 
 
 Bora. Come hither, ladies, cany your 
 
 bodies swimming ; 
 Do your three duties, then then fall behind 
 
 me. 
 Cue. O, thou pernicious rascal ! what 
 
 hast thou done ? 
 
 Ant. I done ! alas, sir, I have done nothing. 
 Cue. Sirrah, 
 
 How came she by this wine? 
 Ant. Alas, I know not. 
 Bora. Who's that, that talks of wine there? 
 Ant. Forsooth, my master. 
 Bora. Bring him before me, son slave. 
 Cue. I will know it. 
 This bottle, how this bottle ? 
 
 Bora. Do not stir it ; 
 For, if you do, by this good wine, I'll knock 
 
 you, 
 I'll beat you damnably, yea and nay, I'll 
 
 beat you ; 
 And, when I have broke it 'bout your head, 
 
 do you mark me ? 
 
 Then will I tie it to your worship's tail, 
 And all the dogs in the town shall follow you. 
 No question, I would advise you, how I came 
 
 by it ; 
 
 I will have none of these points handled now. 
 Cue. She'll ne'er be well again while the 
 
 world stands. 
 
 Ant. I hope so. [Aside. 
 
 Cue. How dost thou, lamb ? 
 Bora. Well, God-a-mercy. 
 Belwether, how dost thou ?' Stand out, son 
 
 slave, 
 Sit you here, and before this worshipful 
 
 audience 
 Propound a doubtful question ; see who's 
 
 drunk now. 
 Cue. Now, now it works ; the devil now 
 
 dwells in her. 
 Bora. Whether the heaven or the earth 
 
 be nearer the moon ? 
 Or what's the natural reason, why a woman 
 
 longs 
 To make her husband cuckold ? Bring me 
 
 your cousin 
 
 The 'curate now, that great philosopher, 
 He that found out a pudding had two ends, 
 That learned clerk, that notable gymnoso- 
 
 phist ; 
 
 And let him with his Jacob's-staff discover 
 What is the third part of three farthings, 
 Three halfpence being the half, and I am 
 
 satisfied. 
 Cue. You see she hath learning enough, 
 
 if she could dispose it. 
 Bora. Too mucli for thee, thou logger- 
 head, thou bull-head ! 
 Cue. Nay, good Borachia. 
 
A VERY WOMAN. 
 
 513 
 
 Bora. Thou a sufficient statesman ! 
 A gentleman of learning ! hang thee, dog- 
 whelp ; 
 
 Thou shadow of a man of action, 
 Thou scab o' the court ! go sleep, you 
 
 dninken rascal, 
 You debauch'd puppy ; get you home, and 
 
 sleep, sirrah ; 
 And so will I : son slave, thou shalt sleep 
 
 with me. 
 
 Cue. Prithee, look to her tenderly. 
 Bora. No words, sirrah, 
 Of any wine, or anything like wine, 
 Or anything concerning wine, or by wine, 
 Or from, or with wine. Come, lead me like 
 
 a countess. 
 Cue. Thus must we bear, poor men ! 
 
 there is a trick in't ; 
 But, when she is well again, I'll trick her 
 
 for it. {Exeunt. 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 SCENE I. A Room in the Viceroy's 
 
 Palace. 
 Enter Pedro. 
 Pedro. Now, if this honest fellow do but 
 
 prosper, 
 
 I hope I shall make fair return. I wonder 
 i I hear not from the prince of Tarent yet, 
 
 I hope he's landed well, and to his safety ; 
 ! The winds have stood most gently to his 
 purpose. 
 
 Enter Antonio. 
 I My honest friend ! 
 
 Ant. Your lordship's poorest servant. 
 Pedro. How hast thou sped ? 
 Ant. My lord, as well as wishes. 
 My way hath reach'd your mistress, and 
 
 deliver 'd 
 
 Your loveletter, and token ; who, with all joy, 
 
 And virtuous constancy, desires to see you : 
 
 ', Commands you this night, by her loving 
 
 power, 
 To meet her in the garden. 
 
 Pedro. Thou hast made me ; 
 I Redeem'd me, man, again from all my 
 
 sorrows ; 
 
 i Done above wonder for me. Is it so ? 
 Ant. I should be now too old to learn to 
 
 lie, sir, 
 
 ! And, as I live, I never was good flatterer. 
 Pedro. I do see something in this fellow's 
 
 face still, 
 That ties my heart fast to him. Let me 
 
 love thee, 
 
 Nay, let me honour thee for this fair service : 
 And if I e'er iorget it 
 
 Ant. Good my lord, 
 The only knowledge of me is too much 
 
 bounty : 
 My service, and my life, sir. 
 
 Pedro. I shall think on't ; 
 But how for me to get access ? 
 
 Ant. 'Tis easy ; 
 I'll be your guide, sir, all my care shall lead 
 
 you ; 
 My credit's better than you think. 
 
 Pedro. I thank you, 
 And soon I'll wait your promise. 
 
 Ant. With all my duty. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE II. A Bed-room in the same. 
 Enter Viceroy, Duke, Paulo, and Cuculo* 
 
 Paulo. All's as I tell you, princes ; you 
 
 shall here 
 
 Be witness to his fancies, melancholy^ 
 And strong imagination of his wrongs. 
 His inhumanity to don Antonio 
 Hath rent his mind into so many pieces 
 Of various imaginations, that, 
 Like the celestial bow, this colour now's 
 The object, then another, till all vanish. 
 He says a man might watch to death, or fast, 
 Or think his spirit out ; to all which humours 
 I do apply myself, checking the bad, 
 And cherishing the good. For these, I have 
 Prepared my instruments, fitting his chamber 
 With trapdoors, and descents ; sometimes 
 
 presenting 
 
 Good spirits of the air, bad of the earth, 
 To pull down or advance his fair intentions. 
 He's of a noble nature, yet sometimes 
 Thinks that which, by confederacy, I do. 
 Is by some skill in magic. 
 
 Enter Cardenes, a book in his hand. 
 
 Here he comes 
 Unsent. I do beseech you, what do you 
 
 read, sir? 
 Car. A strange position, which doth much' 
 
 perplex me : 
 
 That every soul's alike a musical instrument, 
 The faculties in all men equal strings, 
 Well or ill handled ; and those sweet or 
 
 harsh. [Exit Paulo. 
 
 How like a fiddler I have play'd on mine 
 
 then ! 
 Declined the high pitch of my birth and 
 
 breeding, 
 Like the most barbarous peasant ; read my 
 
 pride 
 
 Upon Antonio's meek humility, 
 Wherein he was far valianter than I. 
 Meekness, thou wait'st upon courageous- 
 spirits, 
 Enabling sufferance past inflictions. 
 
A VERY WOMAN. 
 
 In patience Tarent overcame me more 
 Than in my wounds : live then, no more to 
 
 men, 
 Shut daylight from thine eyes, here cast 
 
 thee'down, {Falls on the bed. 
 
 And with a sullen sigh breathe forth thy soul 
 
 Re-enter Paulo disguised as a Friar. 
 
 "What art ? an apparition, or a man ? 
 Paul. A man, and sent to counsel thee. 
 Car. Despair 
 Has stopt mine ears ; thou seem'st a holy 
 
 friar. 
 Paul. I am ; by doctor Paulo sent, to 
 
 tell thee 
 
 Thou art too cruel to thyself, in seeking 
 To lend compassion and' aid to others. 
 My order bids me comfort thee. I have 
 
 heard all 
 Thy various, troubled passions : hear but 
 
 my story. 
 
 In way of youth I did enjoy one friend, 
 As good and perfect as heaven e'er made 
 
 man ; 
 This friend was plighted to a beauteous 
 
 woman, 
 (Nature proud of her workmanship,) mutual 
 
 love 
 Possess'd them both, her heart in his breast 
 
 lodged, 
 And his in hers. 
 
 Car. No more of love, good father, 
 It was my surfeit, and I loath it now, 
 As men in fevers meat they fell sick on. 
 Paul. Howe'er, 'tis worth your hearing. 
 
 This betroth'd lady, 
 
 (The ties and duties of a friend forgotten,) 
 Spurr'd on by lust, I treacherously pursued; 
 Contemn 'd by her, and by my friend re- 
 proved, 
 Despised by honest men, my conscience 
 
 sear'd up, 
 
 Love I converted into frantic rage ; 
 And by that false guide led, I summon'd him 
 In this bad cause, his sword 'gainst mine, to 
 
 prove 
 
 If he or I might claim most right in love. 
 But fortune, that does seld or never give 
 Success to right and virtue, made him fall 
 Under my sword. Blood, blood, a friend's 
 
 dear blood, 
 
 A virtuous friend's, shed by a villain, me, 
 In such a monstrous and unequal cause, 
 Lies on my conscience. 
 
 Car. And durst thou live, 
 After this, to be so old ? 'tis an illusion 
 Raised up by charms : a man would not 
 
 have lived. 
 Art quiet in thy bosom ? 
 
 Paul. As the sleep 
 Of infants. 
 
 Car. My fault did not equal this ; 
 Yet I have emptied my heart of joy, 
 Only to store sighs up. What were the arts 
 That made thee live so long in rest ? 
 
 Paul. Repentance 
 Hearty, that cleansed me ; reason then con- 
 
 firm'd me, 
 I was forgiven, and took me to my beads. 
 
 [Exit. 
 Car. I am in the wrong path ; tender 
 
 conscience 
 
 Makes me forget mine honour : I have done 
 No evil like this, yet I pine ; whilst he, 
 A few tears of his true contrition tender 'd, 
 Securely sleeps. Ha ! where keeps peace of 
 
 conscience, 
 That I may buy her ? nowhere ; not in 
 
 life. 
 
 Tis feign'd that Jupiter two vessels placed, 
 The one with honey fill'd, the other gall, 
 At the entry of Olympus ; Destiny, 
 There brewing these together, surfers not 
 One man to pass, before he drinks this mix- 
 ture. 
 
 Hence it is we have not an hour of life 
 In which our pleasures relish not some pain, 
 Our sours some sweetness. Love doth taste 
 
 of both ; 
 
 Revenge, that thirsty dropsy of our souls, 
 Which makes us covet that which hurts us 
 
 most, 
 
 Is not alone sweet, but partakes of tartness. 
 Duke. Is't not a strange effect ? 
 Vice. Past precedent. 
 Cue. His brain-pan's perish'd with his 
 
 wounds : go to, 
 I knew 'twould come to this. 
 Vice. Peace, man of wisdom. 
 Car. Pleasure's the hook of evil ; ease of 
 
 care, 
 
 And so* the general object of the court ; 
 Yet some delights are lawful. Honour is 
 Virtue's allow'd ascent ; honour, that clasps 
 All-perfect justice in her arms, that craves 
 No more respect than what she gives, that 
 
 does 
 
 Nothing but what she'll suffer. This dis- 
 tracts me ; 
 
 But I have found the right : had don An- 
 tonio 
 Done that to me, I did to him, I should 
 
 have kill'd him ; 
 
 i The injury so foul, and done in public, 
 i My footman would not bear it ; then in 
 
 honour 
 
 Wronging him so, I'll right him on myself: 
 There's honour, justice, and full satisfaction 
 
A VERY WOMAN. 
 
 Equally tender 'd ; 'tis resolved, I'll do it. 
 
 [ They rushfonvard and disarm him. 
 They take all weapons from me. 
 Duke. Bless my son ! 
 
 Re-enter Paulo, dressed like a Soldier, and 
 the English Slave like a Courtier. 
 
 Vice. The careful doctor's come again. 
 
 Duke. Rare man ! 
 How shall I pay this debt ? 
 
 Cue. He that is with him, 
 Is one o' the slaves he lately bought, he said, 
 To accommodate his cure : he's English born, 
 But French in his behaviour ; a delicate slave. 
 
 Vice. The slave is very fine. 
 
 Cue. Your English slaves 
 Are ever so ; I have seen an English slave 
 Far finer than his master : there's a state- 
 point, 
 Worthy your observation. 
 
 Paul. On thy life, 
 Be perfect in thy lesson : fewer legs, slave. 
 
 Car. My thoughts are searchd and 
 
 answer'd ; for I did 
 Desire a soldier and a courtier, 
 To yield me satisfaction in some doubts 
 Not yet concluded of. 
 
 Paul. Your doctor did 
 Admit us, sir. 
 
 Slave. And we are at your service ; 
 Whate'er it be, command it. 
 
 Car. You appear 
 
 A courtier in the race of LOVE ; how far 
 In honour are you bound to run ? 
 
 Slave. I'll tell you, 
 You must not spare expense, but wear gay 
 
 clothes, 
 
 And you may be, too, prodigal of oaths, 
 To win a mistress' favour ; not afraid 
 To pass unto her through her chambermaid. 
 You may present her gifts, and of all sorts, 
 Feast, dance, and revel; they are lawful 
 
 sports : 
 
 The choice of suitors you must not deny her, 
 Nor quarrel, though you find a rival by her: 
 Build on your own deserts, and ever be 
 A strange'r to love's enemy, jealousy, 
 For that draws on 
 
 Car. No more ; this points at me ; 
 
 {Exit English Slave. 
 I ne'er observed these rules. Now speak, old 
 
 soldier, 
 The height of HONOUR ? 
 
 Paul. No man to offend, 
 Ne'er to reveal the secrets of a friend ; 
 Rather to suffer than to do a wrong ; 
 To make the heart no stranger to the 
 
 tongue ; 
 Pro voiced, not to betray an enemy, 
 
 Nor eat his meat I choak with flattery ; 
 Blushless to tell wherefore I wear my scars, 
 Or for my conscience, or my country's wars ; 
 To aim at just things ; if we have wildly run 
 Into offences, wish them all undone : 
 'Tis poor, in grief for a wrong done, to die, 
 Honour, to dare to live, and satisfy. 
 Vice. Mark, how he winds him. 
 Duke. Excellent man ! 
 Paul. Who fights 
 
 With passions, and o'ercomes them, is en- 
 dued 
 With the best virtue, passive fortitude. 
 
 {Exit. 
 Car. Thou hast touch'd me, soldier ; oh ! 
 
 this honour bears 
 The right stamp ; would all soldiers did 
 
 profess 
 
 Thy good religion ! The discords of my soul 
 Are tuned, and make a heavenly harmony : 
 What sweet peace feel I now ! I am ravish'd 
 
 with it. 
 
 Vice. How still he sits ! [Music. 
 
 Cue. Hark ! music. 
 Duke. How divinely 
 This artist gathers scatter'd sense ; with 
 
 cunning 
 
 Composing the fair jewel of his mind, 
 Broken in pieces, and nigh lost before. 
 
 Re-enter Paulo, dressed like a Philosopher, 
 accompanied by a good and evil Genius, 
 who sing a song in alternate stanzas : 
 during the performance of which Paulo 
 goes off, and returns in his own shape. 
 
 Vice. See Protean Paulo in another shape. 
 Paul. Away, I'll bring him shortly per- 
 fect, doubt not. 
 
 Duke. Master of thy great art ! 
 Vice. As such we'll hold thee. 
 Duke. And study honours for him. 
 Cue. I'll be sick 
 On purpose to take physic of this doctor. 
 
 {Exeunt all but Cardenes and Paulo. 
 Car. Doctor, thou hast perfected a body's 
 
 cure 
 
 To amaze the world, and almost cured a mind 
 Near frenzy. With delight I now perceive, 
 You, for my recreation, have invented 
 The several objects, which my melancholy 
 Sometimes did think you conjured, other- 
 whiles 
 
 Imagined them chimaeras. You have been 
 My friar, soldier, philosopher, 
 My poet, architect, physician ; 
 Labour'd for me, more than your slaves for 
 
 you, 
 In their assistance : in your moral song 
 
 L L 2 
 
A VERY WOMAN. 
 
 Of my good Genius and my bad, you have 
 
 won me 
 
 A cheerful heart, and banish'd discontent ; 
 There being nothing wanting to my wishes, 
 But once more, were it possible, to behold 
 Don John Antonio. 
 
 Paul. There shall be letters sent 
 Into all parts of Christendom, to inform him 
 Of your recovery, which now, sir, I doubt 
 
 not. 
 Car. What honours, what rewards can I 
 
 heap on you ! 
 Paul. That my endeavours have so well 
 
 succeeded, 
 
 Is asufficient recompense. Pray you retire, sir; 
 Not too much air so soon. 
 
 Car. I am obedient. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE III. A Room in Cuculo's House. 
 
 Enter Almira and Leonora. 
 Leon. How strangely 
 
 This fellow runs in her mind ! [Aside. 
 
 Aim. Do you hear, cousin ? 
 Leon. Her sadness clean forsaken ! 
 Aim. A poor slave 
 1 Bought for my governess, say you? 
 ' Leon. I hear so. 
 1 Aim. And, do you think, a Turk? 
 
 Leon. His habit shows it ; 
 At least bought for a Turk. 
 Aim. Ay, that may be so. 
 Leon. What if he were one naturally ? 
 Aim. Nay, 'tis nothing, 
 Nothing to the purpose ; and yet, methinks, 
 
 'tis strange 
 
 Such handsomeness of mind, and civil out- 
 side, 
 Should spring from those rude countries. 
 
 Leon. If it be no more, 
 I'll call our governess, and she can shew you. 
 Aim. Why, do you think it is? 
 Leon. I do not think so. 
 Aim. Fie ! no, no, by no means ; and to 
 
 tell thee truth, wench, 
 I am truly glad he is here, be what he will : 
 Let him be still the same he makes a shew of; 
 For now we shall see something to delight us. 
 Leon. And heaven knows, we have need 
 
 on't. 
 
 Aim. Heigh ho! my heart aches. 
 Prithee, call in our governess. [Exit 
 
 Leonora.] Plague o' this fellow ! 
 Why do I think so much of him ? how the 
 
 'devil 
 Creep'd he into my head ? and yet, beshrew 
 
 me, 
 
 ' Methinks I have not seen I lie, I haveseen 
 A thousand handsomer, a thousand 
 sweeter. 
 
 But say this fellow were adorn'd as they are, 
 Set off to shew and glory ! What's that to 
 
 me? 
 
 Fie, what a fool am I ! what idle fancies 
 Buz in my brains ! 
 
 Re-enter Leonora with Borachia. 
 
 Bora. And how doth my sweet lady? 
 Leon. She wants your company to make 
 
 her merry. 
 Bora. And how does master Pug, I pray 
 
 you, madam ? 
 
 Leon. Do you mean her little dog ? 
 Bora. I mean his worship. 
 Leon. Troubled with fleas a little. 
 Bora. Alas, poor chicken ! 
 Leon. She's here, and drunk, very fine 
 
 drunk, I take it ; 
 
 I found her with a bottle for her bolster, 
 Lying along, and making love. 
 
 Aim. Borachia, 
 Why, where hast thou been, wench? she 
 
 looks not well, friend. 
 Art not with child ? 
 
 Bora. I promise ye, I know not ; 
 I am sure my belly's full, and that's a shrewd 
 
 sign : 
 
 Besides I am shrewdly troubled with a tiego 
 Here in my head, madam ; often with this 
 
 tiego, 
 
 It takes me very often. 
 Leon. I believe thee. 
 Aim. You must drink wine. 
 Bora. A little would do no harm, sure. 
 Leon. 'Tis a raw humour blows into your 
 
 head; 
 Which good strong wine will temper. 
 
 Bora. I thank your highness. 
 I will be ruled, though much against my 
 
 nature ; 
 For wine I ever hated from my cradle : 
 
 Yet, for my good 
 
 Leon. Ay, for your good, by all means. 
 Aim. Borachia, what new fellow's that 
 
 thou hast gotten ? 
 (Now she will sure be free) that handsome 
 
 stranger? 
 Bora. How much wine must I drink, an't 
 
 please your ladyship ? 
 Aim. She's finely greased ! Why, two or 
 
 three round draughts, wench. 
 Bora. Fasting? 
 Aim. At any time. 
 Bura. I shall hardly do it : 
 But yet I'll try, good madam. 
 Leon. Do ; 'twill work well. 
 Aim. But, prithee answer me, what is this 
 fellow? 
 
A VERY WOMAN. 
 
 Dora. I'll tell you two : but let it go no 
 
 further. 
 
 Leon. No, no, by no means. 
 Bora. May I not drink before bed too? 
 Leon. At any hour. 
 
 Bora. And say in the night it take me? 
 Aim. Drink then: but what's this man ? 
 Bora. I'll tell ye, madam, 
 But pray you be secret ; he's the great Turk's 
 
 son, for certain, 
 And a fine Christian ; my husband bought 
 
 him for me : 
 He's circumsinged. 
 
 Leon. .He's circumcised, thou wouldst say. 
 Aim. How dost thou know ? 
 Bora. I had an eye upon him : 
 But even as sweet a Turk, an't like your 
 
 ladyship, 
 
 And speaks ye as pure pagan : I'll assure ye, 
 My husband had a notable pennyworth of 
 
 him ; 
 And found me but the Turk's own son, his 
 
 own son 
 
 By father and mother, madam ! 
 Leon. She's mad-drunk. 
 Aim. Prithee, Borachia, call him ; I would 
 
 see him, 
 
 And tell thee how I like him. 
 Bora. As fine a Turk, madam, 
 
 For that which appertains to a true Turk 
 
 Aim. Prithee, call him. 
 Bora. He waits here at the stairs : Son 
 slave ! come hither. 
 
 Enter Antonio. 
 
 Pray you give me leave a little to instruct him, 
 He's 'raw yet in the way of entertainment. 
 Son slave, where's the other bottle ? 
 
 Ant. In the bedstraw ; 
 I hid it there. 
 
 Bora. Go up, and make your honours. 
 Madam, the tiego takes me now, now, 
 
 madam ; 
 I must needs be unmannerly. 
 
 Aim. Pray you be so. 
 
 Leon. You know your cure. 
 
 Bora. In the bedstraw ? 
 
 Ant. There you'll find it. 
 
 [Exit Borachia. 
 
 Aim. Come hither, sir : how long have you 
 served here ? 
 
 Ant. A poor time, madam, yet, to shew 
 my service. 
 
 Aim. I see thou art diligent. 
 
 Ant. I would be, madam ; 
 "Tis all the portion left me, that and truth. 
 
 Aim. Thou art but young. 
 
 Ant. Had fortune meant me so, 
 
 Excellent lady, time had not much wrong'd 
 
 me. 
 
 Aim. Wilt thou serve me? 
 A tit. In all my prayers, madam, 
 Else such a misery as mine but blasts you. 
 Aim. Beshrew my heart, he speaks well; 
 wondrous honestly. [Aside. 
 
 Ant. Madam, your loving lord stays for 
 
 you. 
 
 Leon. I thank you. 
 Your pardon for an hour, dear friend. 
 Aim. Your pleasure. 
 Leon. I dearly thank you, sir. [Exit. 
 
 Ant. My humblest service. 
 She views me narrowly, yet sure she knows 
 
 me not : 
 
 I dare not trust the time yet, nor I must not. 
 
 [Aside. 
 
 Aim. You are not as your habit shews? 
 Ant. No, madam, 
 
 His hand, that, for my sins, lies heavy on me, 
 I hope will keep me from being a slave to 
 
 the devil. 
 Aim. A brave clear mind he has, and nobly 
 
 season'd. 
 
 What country are you of ? 
 Ant. A Biscan, lady. 
 Aim. No doubt, a gentleman, 
 Ant. My father thought so. 
 Aim, Ay, and I warrant thee, a right fair 
 
 woman 
 
 Thy mother was : he blushes, that con- 
 firms it. 
 
 Upon my soul, I have not seen such sweet- 
 ness ! 
 I prithee, blush again. 
 
 Ant. 'Tis a weakness, madam, 
 I am easily this way woo'd to. 
 
 Aim. I thank you. 
 
 Of all that e'er I saw, thou art the per- 
 
 fectest. [Aside. 
 
 Now you must tell me, sir, for now I long 
 
 for't. 
 
 Ant. What would she have ? 
 Aim. The story of your fortune, 
 The hard and cruel fortune brought you 
 
 hither. 
 
 Ant. That makes me stagger ; yet I hope 
 
 I'm hid still. [Aside. 
 
 That I came hither, madam, was the fairest. 
 
 Aim. But how this misery you bear, fell on 
 
 you? 
 Ant. Infandum, regina, jubes renovare 
 
 dolorem. 
 Aim. Come, Iwillhaveit ; I command you, 
 
 tell it, 
 
 For such a speaker I would hear for ever. 
 Ant. Sure, madam, 'twill but make you 
 sad and heavy, 
 
A VERY WOMAN. 
 
 Because I know your goodness full of pity ; 
 And 'tis so poor a subject too, and to your 
 
 ears, 
 That are acquainted with things sweet and 
 
 easy, 
 
 So harsh a harmony. 
 Aim. I prithee speak it. 
 Ant. I ever knew obedience the best 
 
 sacrifice. 
 
 Honour of ladies, then, first passing over 
 Some few years of my youth, that are im- 
 pertinent, 
 
 Let me begin the sadness of my story, 
 Where I began to lose myself, to love first. 
 Aim. 'Tis well, go forward; some rare 
 
 piece I look for. 
 Ant. Not far from where my father lives, 
 
 a lady, 
 A neighbour by,' bless'd with as great a 
 
 beauty 
 
 As nature durst bestow without undoing, 
 Dwelt, and most happily, as I thought then, 
 And bless'd the house a thousand times she 
 
 dwelt in. 
 
 This beauty, in the blossom of my youth, 
 When my first fire knew no adulterate in- 
 cense, 
 
 Nor I no way to flatter, but my fondness ; 
 In all the bravery my friends could shew me, 
 In all the faith my innocence could give me, 
 In the best language my true tongue could 
 
 tell me, 
 And all the broken sighs my sick heart lend 
 
 me, 
 
 I sued, and serv'd : long did I love this lady, 
 Long was my travail, long my trade to win 
 
 her; 
 
 With all the duty of my soul I served her. 
 Aim. How feelingly he speaks ! \Aside.~\ 
 
 And she loved you too ? 
 It must be so. 
 
 Ant. I would it had, dear lady ; 
 This story had been needless, and this place, 
 I think, unknown to me. 
 Aim. Were your bloods equal? 
 Ant. Yes, and I thought our hearts too. 
 Aim. Then she must love. 
 Ant. She did but never me ; she could 
 
 not love me, 
 She would not love, she hated : more, she 
 
 scorn'd me, 
 
 And in so poor and base a way abused me, 
 For all my services, for all my bounties, 
 So bold neglects flung on me. 
 
 Aim. An ill woman ! 
 Belike you found some rival in your love, 
 
 then ? 
 
 Ant. How perfectly she points me to my 
 story ! [Aside. 
 
 Madam, I did ; and one whose pride and 
 
 anger, 
 
 111 manners, and worse mien, she doted on, 
 Doted to my undoing, and my ruin. 
 And, but for honour to your sacred beauty, 
 And reverence to the noble sex, though she 
 
 fall, 
 
 As she must fall that durst be so unnoble, 
 I should say something unbeseeming me. 
 What out of love, and worthy love, I gave her, 
 Shame to her most unworthy mind ! to fools, 
 To girls, and fiddlers, to her boys she flung, 
 And in disdain of me. 
 
 Aim. Pray you take me with you. 
 Of what complexion was she ? 
 
 Ant. But that I dare not 
 Commit so great a sacrilege gainst virtue, 
 She look'd not much unlikt though far, 
 
 far short. 
 Something, I see, appears your pardon, 
 
 madam 
 Her eyes would smile so, but her eyes would 
 
 cozen ; 
 
 And so she would look sad : but yours is pity, 
 A noble chorus to my wretched story ; 
 Hers was disdain and cruelty. 
 
 Aim. Pray heaven, 
 Mine be no worse ! he has told me a strange 
 
 story, [Aside. 
 
 And said 'twould make me sad! he is no 
 
 liar. 
 But where begins this poor state ? I will have 
 
 all, 
 
 For it concerns me truly. 
 Ant. Last, to blot me 
 From all remembrance what I had been to 
 
 her, 
 And how, how honestly, how nobly served 
 
 her, 
 'Twas thought she set her gallant to dispatch 
 
 me. 
 'Tis true, he quarrell'd without place or 
 
 reason : 
 We fought, I kill'd him ; heaven's strong 
 
 hand was with me. 
 
 For which I lost my country, friends, ac- 
 quaintance, 
 
 And put myself to sea, whereapirate took me, 
 Forcing this habit of a Turk upon me, 
 And sold me here. 
 Aim. Stop there awhile ; but stay still. 
 
 [ Watts aside. 
 In this man's story, how I look, how 
 
 monstrous ! 
 How poor and naked now I shew ! what don 
 
 John, 
 In all 
 
 the virtue of his life, but aim'd at, 
 This thing hath conquer'd with a tale, and 
 carried. 
 
A VERY WOMAN. 
 
 Forgive me, thou that guid'st me ! never 
 
 conscience 
 Touch 'd me till now, nor true love : let me 
 
 keep it. 
 
 Re-enter Leonora with Pedro. 
 
 Leon. She is there. Speak to her, you will 
 
 find her alter' d. 
 Pedro. Sister, I am glad to see you, but 
 
 far gladder, 
 
 To see you entertain your health so well. 
 Aim. I am glad to see you too, sir, and 
 
 shall be gladder 
 , Shortly to see you all. 
 
 Pedro. Now she speaks heartily. 
 What do you want ? 
 
 Aim. Only an hour of privateness ; 
 I have a few thoughts 
 
 Pedro. Take your full contentment, 
 We'll walk aside again ; but first to you, 
 
 friend, 
 Or I shall much forget myself: my best 
 
 friend, 
 
 Command me ever, ever you have won it. 
 Ant. Your lordship overflows me. 
 Leon. 'Tis but due, sir, 
 
 \Exeunt Leonora and Pedro. 
 Aim. He's there still. Come, sir, to your 
 
 last part now, 
 
 Which only is your name, and I dismiss you. 
 Why, whither go you ? 
 
 Ant. Give me leave, good madam, 
 Or I must be so seeming rude to take it. 
 Aim. You shall not go, I swear you shall 
 
 not go : 
 I ask you nothing but your name ; you have 
 
 one, 
 And why should that thus fright you? 
 
 Ant. Gentle madam, 
 
 I cannot speak ; pray pardon me, a sickness, 
 That takes me often, ties my tongue : go 
 
 from me, 
 My fit's infectious, lady. 
 
 Aim. Were it death 
 
 In all his horrors, I must ask and know it ; 
 Your sickness is unwillingness. Hard heart, 
 To let a lady of my youth, and place, 
 Beg thus long for a trifle ! 
 
 Ant. Worthiest lady, 
 
 Be wise, and let me go ; you'll bless me for it, 
 Beg not that poison from me that will kill you. 
 Aim. I only beg your name, sir. 
 Ant. That will choak you ; 
 I do beseech you, pardon me. 
 Aim. I will not. 
 
 Ant. You'll curse me when you hear it. 
 Aim. Rather kiss thee ; 
 Why shouldst thou think so ? 
 Ant. Why! I bear that name, 
 
 And most unluckily as now it happens, 
 (Though I be innocent of all occasion,) 
 That, since my coming hither, people tell me 
 You hate beyond forgiveness : now, heaven 
 
 knows 
 
 So much respect, although I am a stranger, 
 Duty, and humble zeal, I bear your sweet- 
 ness, 
 That for the world I would not grieve your 
 
 goodness : 
 I'll change my name, dear madam. 
 
 Aim. People lie, 
 And wrong thy name ; thy name may save 
 
 all others, 
 
 And make that holy to me, that I hated : 
 Prithee, what is't ? 
 
 Ant. Don John Antonio. 
 
 What will this woman do, what thousand 
 
 changes 
 Run through her heart and hands ? no fix'd 
 
 thought in her ! 
 
 She loves for certain now, but now I dare not. 
 Heaven guide me right ! [Aside. 
 
 Aim. I am not angry, sir, 
 With you, nor with your name ; I love it 
 
 rather, 
 And shall respect you you deserve for 
 
 this time 
 
 I license you to go : be not far from me, ) 
 I shall call for you often. 
 Ant. I shall wait, madam. [Exit. 
 
 Enter Cuculo. 
 
 Aim. Now, what's the news with you? 
 Cue. My lord your father 
 Sent me to tell your honour, prince Martino j 
 Is well recovered, and in strength. 
 
 Aim. Why, let him. 
 The stories and the names so well agreeing, 
 And both so noble gentlemen. [Aside. 
 
 Cue. And more, an't please you 
 Aim. It doth not please me, neither more 
 
 nor less on't. 
 
 Cue. They'll come to visit you. 
 Aim. They shall break through the doors 
 then. [Exit. 
 
 Cue. Here's a new trick of state ; this 
 
 shews foul weather ; 
 
 But let her make it when she please, I'll 
 gain by it. \Exit* 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 SCENE I. A Street. 
 Enter Pirates, and the Slave that folio-died 
 
 Paulo. 
 
 i Pir. Sold for a slave, say'st thou ? 
 Slave. Twas not so well : 
 
520 
 
 A VERY WOMAN. 
 
 Though I am bad enough, I personated 
 Such base behaviour, barbarism of manners, 
 With other pranks that might deter the 
 
 buyer, 
 That the market yielded not one man that 
 
 would 
 Vouchsafe to own me. 
 
 I Pir. What was thy end in it ? 
 
 Slave. To be given away for nothing, as 
 
 I was 
 To the viceroy's doctor ; with him I have 
 
 continued 
 
 In such contempt, a slave unto his slaves ; 
 His horse and dog of more esteem : and from 
 That villainous carriage of myself, as if 
 I'd been a lump of flesh without a soul, 
 I drew such scorn upon me, that I pass'd, 
 And pried in everyplace, without observance. 
 For which, if you desire to be made men, 
 And by one undertaking, and that easy, 
 You are bound to sacrifice unto my sufferings, 
 The seed I sow'd, and from which you shall 
 
 reap 
 A plentiful harvest. 
 
 i Pir. To the point ; I like not 
 These castles built in the air. 
 
 Slave. I'll make them real, 
 And you the Neptunes of the sea ; you shall 
 No more be sea-rats. 
 
 i Pir. Art not mad ? 
 
 Slave. You have seen 
 The star of Sicily, the fair Almira, 
 The viceroy's daughter, and the beauteous 
 
 ward 
 Of the duke of Messina ? 
 
 i Pir. Madam Leonora. 
 
 Slave. What will you say, if both these 
 
 princesses, 
 
 This very night, for I will not delay you, 
 Be put in your possession ? 
 
 i Pir. Now I dare swear 
 Thou hast maggots in thy brains, thou 
 
 wouldst not else, 
 Talk of impossibilities. 
 
 Slave. Be still 
 Incredulous. 
 
 i Pir. Why, canst thou think we are able 
 To force the court ? 
 
 Slave. Are we able to force two women, 
 And a poor Turkish slave? Where lies 
 your pinnace ? 
 
 1 Pir. In a creek not half a league hence. 
 Slave. Can you fetch ladders, 
 
 To mount a garden wall ? 
 
 2 Pir. They shall be ready. 
 
 Slave. No more words then, but follow 
 
 me ; and if 
 
 I do not make this good, let my throat pay 
 ior't. 
 
 i Pir. What heaps of gold these beauties 
 
 would bring to us 
 
 From the great Turk, if it were possible 
 That this could be effected ! 
 
 Slave. If it be not, 
 I know the price on't. 
 
 i Pir. And be sure to pay it. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE II. A Room in Cuculo's House. 
 Enter Antonio with a letter in his hand. 
 
 Ant. Her fair hand threw this from the 
 
 window to me, 
 
 And as I took it up, she said, Peruse it, 
 And entertain a fortune offer d to thee. 
 What may the inside speak ? 
 
 [Breaks it open, and reads. 
 
 For satisfaction 
 
 Of the contempt I shew' d don John Antonio, 
 Whose name thou bear'st, and in that dearer 
 
 to me, 
 
 I do profess I love thee How ! tis so 
 / love thee ; this night wait me in the garden. 
 There thou shalt know more subscribed, 
 
 Thy Almira. 
 
 Can it be possible such levity 
 Should wait on her perfections ! when I was 
 Myself, set off with all the grace of greatness, 
 Pomp, bravery, circumstance, she hated me, 
 And did profess it openly ; yet now, 
 Being a slave, a thing she should in reason 
 Disdain to look upon ; in this base shape, 
 And, since I wore it, never did her service, 
 To dote thus fondly ! and yet I should glory 
 In her revolt from constancy, not accuse it, 
 Since it makes for me. But, ere I go further, 
 Or make discovery of myself, I'll put her 
 To the utmost trial. In the garden! well, 
 There I shall learn more. Women, giddy 
 
 women ! 
 
 In her the blemish of your sex you prove, 
 There is no reason for your hate or love. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 SCENE III. A Garden belonging to the 
 
 same. 
 Enter Almira, Leonora, and two 
 
 Waiting Women. 
 Leon. At this 
 
 Unseasonable time to be thus brave, 
 No visitants expected ! you amaze me. 
 Aim. Are these jewels set forth to the best 
 
 advantage, 
 To take the eye ? 
 
 1 Worn. With our best care. 
 
 2 Worn. We never 
 Better discharged our duties. 
 
 Aim. In my sorrows, 
 A princess' name (I could perceive it) struck 
 
A VERY WOMAN. 
 
 A kind of reverence in him, and my beauty, 
 As then neglected, forced him to look on me 
 With some sparks of affection ; but now, 
 When I would fan them to a glorious flame, 
 I cannot be too curious. I wonder 
 He stays so long. [Aside. 
 
 Leon. These are strange fancies. 
 
 Aim. Go, 
 
 Entreat I do forget myself command 
 My governess' gentleman her slave, I 
 
 should say, 
 To wait me instantly ; [Exiti Woman.] 
 
 and yet already 
 
 He's here ; his figure graven on my heart, 
 Never to be razed out. 
 
 Enter Pirates, and the Slave. 
 
 Slave. There is the prize. 
 Is it so rich that you dare not seize upon it ? 
 Here I begin. [Seizes Almira. 
 
 Aim. Help! villain! 
 
 1 Pir. You are mine. [Seizes Leonora. 
 
 2 Pir. Though somewhat coarse, you'll 
 serve, after a storm, 
 
 To bid fair weather welcome. 
 
 [Seizes 2 Woman. 
 Leon. Ravisher ! 
 Defend me, heaven ! 
 *Alm. No aid near ! 
 2 Worn. Help ! 
 Slave. Dispatch. 
 No glove nor handkerchief to stop their 
 
 mouths ? 
 
 Their cries will reach the guard, and then 
 we are lost. 
 
 Re-enter i Woman, with Antonio. 
 
 Ant. What shrieks are these ? from 
 
 whence ? O blessed saints, 
 What sacrilege to beauty ! do I talk, 
 When 'tis almost too late to do ! [Forces a 
 
 sword from the Slave.] Take that. 
 Slave. All set upon him. 
 i Pir. Kill him. 
 Ant. You shall buy 
 My life at a dear rate, you rogues. 
 
 Enter Pedro, Cuculo, Borachia, and 
 Guard. 
 
 Cue. Down with them ! 
 
 Pedro. Unheard-of treason ! 
 
 Bora. Make in, loggerhead ; 
 My son slave fights like a dragr p : take my 
 
 bottle, 
 Drink courage out on't. 
 
 Ant. Madam, you are free. 
 
 Pedro. Take comfort, dearest mistress. 
 
 Cue. O you micher, 
 Have you a hand in this? 
 
 Slave. My aims were high ; 
 Fortune's my enemy, to die's the worst, 
 And that I look for. 
 
 i Pir. Vengeance on your plots ! 
 
 Pedro. The rack at better leisure shall 
 
 force from them 
 A full discovery : away with them. 
 
 Cue . Load them with irons. 
 
 Dora. Let them have no wine 
 
 [Exit Guard with Pirates and Slave. 
 To comfort their cold hearts. 
 
 Pedro. Thou man of men ! 
 
 Leon. A second Hercules. 
 
 Aim. An angel thus disguised. 
 
 Pedro. What thanks? 
 
 Leon. What service? 
 
 Bora. He shall serve me, by your leave, 
 no service else. 
 
 Ant. I have done nothing but my duty, 
 
 madam ; 
 
 And if the little you have seen exceed it, 
 The thanks due for it pay my watchful master, 
 And this my sober mistress. 
 
 Bora. He speaks truth, madam, 
 I am very sober. 
 
 Pedro. Far beyond thy hopes 
 Expect reward. 
 
 Aim. We'll straight to court, and there 
 It is resolved what I will say and do. 
 I am faint, support me. 
 
 Pedro. This strange accident 
 Will be heard with astonishment. Come, 
 
 friend, 
 
 You have made yourself a fortune, and 
 deserve it. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE IV. A Room in the Viceroy's 
 Palace. 
 
 Enter Viceroy, Duke of Messina, and 
 Paulo." 
 
 Duke. Perfectly cured ! 
 Paul. As such I will present him : 
 The thanks be given to heaven. 
 Duke. Thrice-reverend man, 
 What thanks but will come short of thy 
 
 desert ? 
 Or bounty, though all we possess were given 
 
 thee, 
 
 Can pay thy merit ? I will have thy statue 
 Set up in brass. 
 
 Vice. Thy name made the sweet subject 
 Of our best poems ; thy unequall'd cures 
 Recorded to posterity. 
 
 Paul. Such false glories 
 (Though the desire of fame be the last 
 
 weakness 
 
 Wise men put off) are not the marks I shoot 
 at : 
 
522 
 
 A VERY WOMAN. 
 
 But, if I have done anything that may chal- 
 lenge 
 
 Your favours, mighty princes, my request is, 
 That for the good of such as shall succeed 
 
 me, 
 
 A college for physicians may be 
 With care and cost erected, in which no man 
 May be admitted to a fellowship, 
 ' Baf*such as by their vigilant studies shall 
 Deserve a place there ; this magnificence, 
 Posterity shall thank you for. 
 
 Vice. Rest assured, 
 
 In this, or any boon you please to ask, 
 You shall have no repulse. 
 
 Paul. My humblest service 
 Shall ne'er be wanting. Now, if you so 
 
 please, 
 I'll fetch my princely patient, and present 
 
 him. 
 Duke. Do ; and imagine in what I may 
 
 serve you, 
 
 And, by my honour, with a willing hand 
 I will subscribe to't. [Exit Paulo. 
 
 Enter Pedro, Almira, Leonora, Antonio, 
 Cuculo, Borachia, and Guard. 
 
 Cue. Make way there. 
 Vice. My daughter ! 
 How's this ! a slave crown'd with a civic 
 
 garland ! 
 The mystery of this ? 
 
 Pedro. It will deserve 
 Your hearing and attention : such a truth 
 Needs not rhetorical flourishes, and therefore 
 With all the brevity and plainness that 
 I can, I will deliver it. If the old Romans, 
 When of most power and wisdom, did decree 
 A wreath like this to any common soldier 
 That saved a citizen's life, the bravery 
 And valour of this man may justly challenge 
 Triumphant laurel. This last night a crew 
 Of pirates brake in signior Cuculo's house, 
 With violent rudeness seizing on my sister, 
 And my fair mistress ; both were in their 
 
 power, 
 
 And ready to be forced hence, when this man, 
 Unarm'd, came to their rescue, but his 
 
 courage 
 
 Soon furnish 'd him with weapons ; in a word, 
 The lives and liberties of these sweet ladies, 
 You owe him for: the rovers are in hold, 
 And ready, when you please, for punishment. 
 
 Vice. As an induction of more to come, 
 Receive this favour. 
 
 Duke. With myself, my son 
 Shall pay his real thanks. He comes ; ob- 
 serve now 
 Their amorous meeting. 
 
 Re-enter Paulo with. Cardenes. 
 
 Car. I am glad you are well, lady. 
 
 Aim. I grieve not your recovery. 
 
 Vice. So coldly! 
 
 Duke. Why fall you off? 
 
 Car. To shun captivity, sir. 
 I was too long a slave, I'll now be free. 
 
 Aim. 'Tis my desire you should. Sir, my 
 
 affection 
 
 To him was but a trifle, which I play'd with 
 In the childhood of my love ; which now, 
 
 grown older, 
 I cannot like of. 
 
 Vice. Strange inconstancy ! 
 
 Car. 'Tis judgment, sir, in me, or a true 
 
 debt 
 
 Tender 'd to justice, rather. My first life, 
 Loaden with all the follies of a man, 
 Or what could take addition from a woman, 
 Was by my headstrong passions, which o'er- 
 
 My understanding, forfeited to death : 
 But this new being, this my second life, 
 
 Begun in serious contemplation of 
 What best becomes a perfect n 
 
 man, shall 
 
 never 
 Sink under such weak frailties. 
 
 Duke. Most unlook'd for ! * 
 
 Paul. It does transcend all wonders. 
 Car. 'Tis a blessing 
 
 I owe your wisdom, which I'll not abuse : 
 But if you envy your own gift, and will 
 Make me that wretched creature which I was, 
 You then again shall see me passionate, 
 A lover of poor trifles, confident 
 In man's deceiving strength, or falser fortune ; 
 Jealous, revengeful, in unjust things daring, 
 Injurious, quarrelsome, stored with all 
 
 diseases 
 
 The beastly part of man infects his soul with, 
 And to remember what's the worst, once 
 
 more 
 To love a woman ; but till that time never. 
 
 [Exit. 
 Vice. Stand you affected so to men, 
 
 Almira? 
 
 Aim. No, sir; if so, I could not well dis- 
 charge 
 What I stand bound to pay you, and to 
 
 nature. 
 
 Though prince Martino does profess a hate 
 To womankind, 'twere a poor world for 
 
 women, 
 Were there no other choice, or all should 
 
 follow 
 
 ; The example of this new Hippolytus : 
 There are men, sir, that can love, and have 
 loved truly ; 
 
A VERY WOMAN. 
 
 523- 
 
 Nor am ! desperate but I may deserve 
 One that both can and will so. 
 
 Vice. My allowance 
 
 Shall rank with your good liking, still pro- 
 vided 
 Your choice be worthy. 
 
 Aim. In it I have used 
 The judgment of my mind, and that made 
 
 clearer 
 
 With calling oft to heaven it might be so. 
 I have not sought a living comfort from 
 The reverend ashes of old ancestors ; 
 Nor given myself to the mere name and titles 
 Of such a man, that, being himself nothing, 
 Derives his substance from his grandsire's 
 
 tomb : 
 For wealth, it is beneath my birth to think 
 
 on't, 
 Since that must wait upon me, being your 
 
 daughter ; 
 
 No, sir, the man I love, though he wants all 
 The setting forth of fortune, gloss and 
 
 greatness, 
 
 Has in himself such true and real goodness, 
 His parts so far above his low condition, 
 That he will prove an ornament, not a 
 
 blemish, 
 Both to your name and family. 
 
 Pedro. What strange creature 
 Hath she found out ? 
 Leon. I dare not guess. 
 Aim. To hold you 
 
 No longer in suspense, this matchless man, 
 That saved my life and honour, is my hus- 
 band, 
 
 Whom I will serve with duty. 
 Bora. My son slave ! 
 Vice. Have you your wits ? 
 Bora. I'll not part with him so. 
 Cue. This I foresaw too. 
 Vice. Do not jest thyself 
 Into the danger of a father's anger. 
 Aim. Jest, sir ! by all my hope of comfort 
 
 in him, 
 I am most serious. Good sir, look upon 
 
 him; 
 
 But let it be with my eyes, and the care 
 You should owe to your daughter's life and 
 
 safety, 
 
 Of which, without him, she's uncapable, 
 And you'll approve him worthy. 
 
 Vice. O thou shame 
 Of women ! thy sad father's curse and 
 
 scandal ! 
 With what an impious violence thou tak'st 
 
 from him, 
 His few short hours of breathing ! 
 
 Paul. Do not add, sir, 
 Weight to your sorrow in the ill-bearing of it. 
 
 Vice. From whom, degenerate monster, 
 
 flow these low 
 And base affections in thee? what strange 
 
 philtres 
 Hast thou received? what witch with damned 
 
 spells 
 
 Deprived thee of thy reason ? Look on me, 
 Since thou art lost unto thyself, and learn, 
 From what I suffer for thee, what strange 
 
 tortures 
 Thou dost prepare thyself. 
 
 Duke. Good sir, take comfort ; 
 The counsel you bestow'd on me, make use of. 
 
 Paul. This villain, (for such practices in 
 
 that nation 
 
 Are very frequent,) it may be, hath forced, 
 By cunning potions, and by sorcerous 
 
 charms, 
 This frenzy in her. 
 
 Vice. Sever them. 
 
 Aim. I grow to him. 
 
 Vice. Carry the slave to torture, and wrest 
 
 from him, 
 
 By the most cruel means, a free confession 
 Of his impostures. 
 
 Aim. I will follow him, 
 And with him take the rack. 
 
 Bora. No ; hear me speak, 
 I can speak wisely : hurt not my son slave, 
 But rack or hang my husband, and I care not ; 
 For I'll be bound body to body with him, 
 He's very honest, that's his fault. 
 
 Vice. Take hence 
 This drunken beast. 
 
 Bora. Drunk! am I drunk? bear witness.- 
 
 Cuc. She is indeed distemper'd. 
 
 Vice. Hang them both, 
 If e'er more they come near the court. 
 
 Cue. Good sir, 
 
 You can recover dead men ; can you cure 
 A living drunkenness ? 
 
 Paul. 'Tis the harder task : 
 Go home with her, I'll send you something^ 
 
 that 
 
 Shall once again bring her to better temper,. 
 Or make her sleep for ever. 
 
 Cue. Which you please, sir. 
 
 \Exeunt Cuculo and Borachia. 
 
 Vice. Why linger you? rack him first, and 
 
 after break him 
 Upon the wheel. 
 
 Pedro. Sir, this is more than justice. 
 
 Ant. Is't death in Sicily to be beloved 
 Of a fair lady ? 
 
 Leon. Though he be a slave, 
 Remember yet he is a man. 
 
 Vice. I am deaf 
 To all persuasions : drag him hence. 
 
 [The Guard carry o/ Antonio* 
 
524 
 
 A VERY WOMAN. 
 
 Aim. Do, tyrant, 
 No more a father, feast thy cruelty 
 Upon thy daughter ; but hell's plagues fall 
 
 on me, 
 
 If I inflict not on myself whatever 
 He can endure for me ! 
 
 Vice. Will none restrain her? 
 
 Aim. Death hath a thousand doors to let 
 
 out life, 
 
 I shall find one. If Portia's burning coals, 
 The knife of Lucrece, Cleopatra's aspics, 
 Famine, deep waters, have the power to 
 
 free me 
 Prom a loath 'd life, I'll not an hour outlive 
 
 him. 
 
 Pedro. Sister ! 
 Leon. Dear cousin ! 
 
 {Exit Almira, followed by Pedro and 
 
 Leon. 
 
 Vice. Let her perish. 
 Paul. Hear me : 
 
 The effects of violent love are desperate, 
 And therefore in the execution of 
 The slave be not too sudden. I was present 
 When he was bought, and at that time myself 
 Made purchase of another ; he that sold them 
 Said that they were companions of one 
 
 country ; 
 Something may rise from this to ease your 
 
 sorrows. 
 
 By circumstance I'll learn what's his con- 
 dition ; 
 In the mean time use all fair and gentle 
 
 means, 
 To pacify the lady. 
 
 Vice. I'll endeavour, 
 As far as grief and anger will give leave, 
 To do as you direct me. 
 Duke. I'll assist you. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE V. A Room in the Prison. 
 Enter Pedro and Keeper. 
 
 Pedro. Hath he been visited already ? 
 
 Keep. Yes, sir, 
 
 Like one of better fortune ; and to increase 
 My wonder of it, such as repair to him, 
 In their behaviour rather appear 
 Servants, than friends to comfort him. 
 
 Pedro. Go fetch him. {Exit Keeper. 
 
 I am bound ingratitude to do more than wish 
 The life and safety of a man that hath 
 So well deserved me. 
 
 Re-enter Keeper with Antonio in his former 
 
 dress, and Servant. 
 Keep. Here he is, my lord. 
 Pedro. Who's here ? thou art no conjurer 
 to raise 
 
 Aspiritin the best shapeman e'er appeared in, 
 My friend, the prince of Tarent ! doubts, 
 
 forsake me ! 
 I must and will embrace him. 
 
 Ant. Pedro holds 
 
 One that loves life for nothing, but to live 
 To do him service. 
 
 Pedro. You are he, most certain. 
 Heaven ever make me thankful for this 
 
 bounty. 
 
 Run to the' Viceroy, let him know this rarity. 
 
 {Exit Keeper. 
 
 But how you came here thus yet, since I 
 
 have you, 
 
 Is't not enough I bless the prosperous means 
 That brought you hither ? 
 
 Ant. Dear friend, you shall know all ; 
 And though, in thankfulness, I should begin 
 
 Where you deliver'd me 
 
 Pedro. Fray you pass that over, 
 That's not worth the relation. 
 
 Ant. You confirm 
 True friends love to do courtesies, not to hear 
 
 them. 
 
 But I'll obey you. In our tedious passage 
 Towards Malta I may call it so, for hardly 
 We had lost the ken of Sicily, but we were 
 Becalm'd, and hull'd so up and down twelve 
 
 hours ; 
 
 When, to our more misfortunes, we descried ' 
 Eight well-mann'd galleys making amain for ! 
 
 us, 
 Of which the arch Turkish pirate, cruel 
 
 Dragut, 
 
 Was admiral : I'll not speak what I did 
 In our defence, but never man did more 
 Than the brave captain that you sent forth 
 
 with me : 
 All would not do ; courage oppress'd with 
 
 number, 
 We were boarded, pillaged to the skin, and 
 
 after 
 Twice sold for slaves ; by the pirate first, and 
 
 after 
 
 By a Maltese to signior Cuculo, 
 W r hich I repent 'not, since there 'twas my 
 
 fortune 
 To be to you, my best friend, some ways 
 
 useful 
 I thought to cheer you up with this short 
 
 story, 
 But fou grow sad on't. 
 
 Pedro. Have I not just cause, 
 When I consider I could be so stupid, 
 As not to see a friend through all disguises ; 
 Or he so far to question my true love, 
 To keep himself conceal'd ? 
 
 Ant. Twas fit to do so, 
 And not to grieve you with the knowledge of 
 
A VERY WOMAN. 
 
 525 
 
 What then I was ; where now I appear to you, 
 Your sister loving me, and Martino safe, 
 Like to myself and birth. 
 
 Pedro. May you live long so ! 
 How dost thou, honest friend? (your trustiest 
 
 servant) 
 Give me thy hand : I now can guess by 
 
 whom 
 ! You are thus furnish'd. 
 
 Ant. Troth he met with me 
 j As I was sent to prison, and there brought me 
 ' Such things as I had use of. 
 
 Pedro. Let's to court, 
 My father never saw a man so welcome, 
 As you'll be to him. 
 
 Ant. May it prove so, friend I \Exeunt. 
 
 ; SCENE VI. A Room in the Viceroy's 
 Palace. 
 
 : Enter Viceroy, Duke of Messina, Cardenes, 
 Paulo, Captain, Almira, Leonora, Waiting 
 Women, and Attendants. 
 
 Vice. The slave changed to the prince of 
 
 Tarent, says he? 
 
 Capt. Yes, sir, and I the captain of the fort, 
 Worthy of your displeasure, and the effect oft, 
 ; For my deceiving of the trust your excellency 
 ' Reposed in me. 
 
 Paul. Yet since all hath fallen out 
 I Beyond your hopes, let me become a suitor, 
 i And a prevailing one, to get his pardon. 
 Aim. O, dearest Leonora, with what fore- 
 head 
 
 i Dare I look on him now ? too powerful Love, 
 i The best strength of thy unconfined empire 
 ! Lies in weak women's hearts: thou art feign'd 
 
 blind, 
 
 I And yet we borrow our best sight from thee. 
 ! Could it be else, the person still the same, 
 ' Affection over me such power should have, 
 I To make me scorn a prince, and love a slave? 
 Car. But art thou sure 'tis he ? 
 Capt. Most certain, sir. 
 Car. Is he in health, strong, vigorous, and 
 
 as able 
 ! As when he left me dead ? 
 
 Capt. Your own eyes, sir, 
 j Shall make good my report. 
 
 Car. I am glad of it, 
 
 j And take you comfort in it, sir, there's hope, 
 ! Fair hope left for me, to repair mine honour. 
 Duke. What's that? 
 
 Car. I will do something, that shall speak me 
 Messina's son. 
 
 Duke. I like not this : one word, sir. 
 
 [ Whispers the Viceroy. 
 Vice. We'll prevent it. 
 Nay, look up my Almira ; now I approve 
 
 Thy happy choice ; I have forgot my anger ; 
 I freely do forgive thee. 
 
 Aim. May I find 
 
 Such easiness in the wrong'd prince of Tarent ! 
 I then were happy. 
 
 Leon. Rest assured you shall. 
 
 Enter Antonio, Pedro, and Sen-ant. 
 
 Vice. We all with open arms haste to- 
 embrace you. 
 
 Duke. Welcome, most welcome ! 
 
 Car. Stay. 
 
 Duke. 'Twas this I fear'd. 
 
 Car. Sir, 'tis best known to you, on what 
 
 strict terms 
 
 The reputation of men's fame and honours 
 Depends in this so punctual age, in which 
 A word that may receive a harsh construction, 
 Is answer'd and defended by the sword : 
 And you, thatknow so much, will, I presume, 
 Be sensibly tender of another's credit, 
 As you would guard your own. 
 
 Ant. I were unjust else. . 
 
 Car. I have received from your hands - 
 
 wounds, and deep ones, 
 My honour in the general report 
 Tainted and soil'd, for which I will demand 
 This satisfaction that you would forgive 
 My contumelious words and blow, my rash 
 And unadvised wildness first threw on you. 
 Thus I would teach the world a better way. 
 For the recovery of a wounded honour, 
 Than with a savage fury, not true courage, 
 Still to run headlong on. 
 
 Ant. Can this be serious ? 
 
 Car. I'll add this, he that does wrong, not 
 
 alone 
 Draws, but makes sharp, his enemy's sword 
 
 against 
 His own life and his honour. I have paid 
 
 for't ; 
 And wish that they who dare most, would 
 
 learn from me, 
 Not to maintain a wrong, but to repent it. 
 
 Paul. Why, this is like yourself. 
 
 Car. For further proof, 
 Here, sir, with all my interest, I give up 
 This lady to you. 
 
 Vice. Which I make more strong 
 With my free grant. 
 
 Aim. I bring mine own consent, 
 Which will not weaken it. 
 
 All. All joy confirm it ! 
 
 Ant. Your unexpected courtesies amaze 
 
 me, 
 
 Which I will study with all love and service 
 To appear worthy of. 
 
 Paul. Pray you, understand, sir, 
 There are a pair of suitors more, that gladly 
 
26 
 
 A VERY WOMAN. 
 
 Would hear from you as much as the pleased 
 
 viceroy 
 lath said unto the prince of Tarent. 
 
 Duke. Take her ; 
 ler dowry shall be answerable to 
 Her birth, and your desert. 
 
 Pedro. You make both happy. 
 
 Ant. One only suit remains ; that you 
 
 would please 
 To take again into your highness' favour, 
 
 This honest captain : let him have your 
 
 grace ; 
 What's due to his much merit, shall from 
 
 me 
 
 Meet liberal rewards. 
 Vice. Have your desire. 
 Ant. Now may all here that love, as they 
 
 are friends 
 To our good fortunes, find like prosperous 
 
 ends. [Exeunt. 
 
 EPILOGUE. 
 
 Custom, and that a law we must obey, 
 
 In the way of epilogue bids me something say, 
 
 Howe'er to little purpose, since we know, 
 
 If you are pleased, unbeggd you will bestow 
 
 A gentle censure : on the other side, 
 
 If that this play deserve to be decried 
 
 In your opinions, all that I can say 
 
 Will never turn the stream the other way. 
 
 Your gracious smiles will render us secure ; 
 
 Your frowns w^tho^lt despair we must endure. 
 
The Bashful Lover. 
 
 PROLOGUE. 
 
 This from our author, far from all offence 
 
 To abler writers, or the audience 
 
 Met here to judge his poem. He, by me, 
 
 Present'; his service, with such modesty 
 
 As well becomes his "weakness. ' Tis no crime, 
 
 He hopes, as we do, in this curious time, 
 
 7^o be a little diffident, when, we are 
 
 To please so many with one bill of fare. 
 
 Let others, building on their merit, say 
 
 You're in the wrong, if you move not 'that wa v 
 
 Which they prescribe you ; as you were bound to learn 
 
 Their maxims, but uncapable to discern 
 
 ' Twixt truth and falsehood. Ours had rather be 
 
 Censured by some for too much obsequy, 
 
 Than tax'd of self opinion. If he hear 
 
 That his endeavours thrived, and did appear 
 
 Worthy your view, (thoiigh made so by your grace, 
 
 With some desert,} he, in another place, 
 
 Will thankfully report, one leaf of bays 
 
 Truly conferrd upon this work, will raise 
 
 More pleasure in him, you the givers free, 
 
 Than garlands ravish d from the virgin tree. 
 
 DRAMATIS PERSONS. 
 
 Gonzaga, duke of Mantua. 
 
 Lorenzo, duke <?/" Tuscany. 
 
 Ub'erti, prince of Parma. 
 
 Farneze, cousin to Gonzaga. 
 
 Alonzo, the ambassador, nephew to Lorenzo. 
 
 Manfroy, a lord of Mantua.. 
 
 Octavio, formtrly general to Gonzaga, but 
 
 now in exile. 
 I Gothrio, his servant. 
 Galeazzo, a Milanese prince, disguised tinder 
 
 the name 0/"Hortensio. 
 Julio, his attendant. 
 
 Captains. 
 
 Milanese Ambassador. 
 
 Doctor. 
 
 Matilda, daughter to Gonzaga. 
 
 Beatrice, her waiting woman. 
 
 Maria, daughter to Octavio, disguised as a 
 
 page, and called Ascanio. 
 Waiting Women. 
 Captains, Soldiers, Guard, Attendants^ 
 
 Page, &c. 
 
 SCENE, Partly in the City o/Mantua, and partly in the dutchy. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 SCENE I. Mantua. A Space before the 
 
 Palace. 
 
 Enter Hortensio and Julio. 
 Jul. I dare not cross you, sir, but I would 
 
 gladly 
 
 4 Provided you allow it) render you 
 My personal attendance. 
 
 Hurt. You shall better 
 Discharge the duty of an honest servant, 
 In following my instructions, which you 
 
 have 
 
 Received already, than in questioning 
 What my intents are, or upon what motives 
 My stay's resolved in Mantua : believe me, 
 That servant overdoes, that's too officious ; 
 And, in presuming to direct your master, 
 
5 28 
 
 THE BASHFUL LOVER. 
 
 You argue him of weakness, and yourself 
 Of arrogance and impertinence. 
 Jul. I have done, sir ; 
 
 But what my ends are 
 
 Hort. Honest ones, I know it. 
 I have my bills of exchange, and all pro- 
 visions, 
 
 Entrusted to you ; you have shown yourself 
 Just and discreet, what would you more ? and 
 
 yet, 
 
 To satisfy in some part your curious care, 
 Hear this, and leave me. I desire to be 
 Obscured ; and, as I have demean'd myself 
 These six months past in Mantua, I'll con- 
 tinue 
 
 ! Unnoted and unknown, and, at the best, 
 Appear no more than a gentleman, and a 
 
 stranger, 
 That travels for his pleasure. 
 
 Jul. With your pardon, 
 This hardly will hold weight, though I should 
 
 swear it, 
 With your noble friends and brother. 
 
 Hurt. You may tell them, 
 Since you will be my tutor, there's a rumour, 
 Almost cried up into a certainty. 
 Of wars with Florence, and that I am de- 
 termined 
 
 To see the sen-ice : whatever I went forth, 
 Heaven prospering my intents, I would come 
 
 home 
 A soldier, and a good one. 
 
 Jul. Should you get 
 A captain's place, nay, colonel's, 'twould add 
 
 little 
 
 To what you are ; few of your rank will follow 
 : That dangerous profession. 
 
 Hort. Tis the noblest, 
 And monarchs honour'd in it : but no more, 
 On my displeasure. 
 
 Jul. Saints and angels guard you ! 
 
 [Exit. 
 Hort. A "war, indeed, is threaten'd, nav, 
 
 expected, 
 
 From Florence ; but it is 'gainst me already 
 Proclaim 'd in Mantua ; I find it here, 
 No foreign, but intestine war : I have 
 Defied myself, in giving up my reason 
 A slave to passion, and am led captive 
 Before the battle's fought : I fainted, when 
 I only saw mine enemy, and yielded, 
 Before that I was charged; and, though 
 
 defeated, 
 
 I dare not sue for mercy. Like Ixion, 
 I look on Juno, feel my heart turn cinders 
 With an invisible fire ; and yet, should she 
 Deign to appear clothed in a various cloud, 
 The majesty of the substance is so sacred, 
 I durst not clasp the shadow. I behold her 
 
 With adoration, feast my eye, while all 
 My other senses starve; and, oft frequenting 
 The place which she makes happy with her 
 
 presence, 
 
 I never yet had power with tongue or pen 
 To move her to compassion, or make known 
 What 'tis I languish for ; yet I must gazestill, 
 Though it increase my flame : however, I 
 Much more than fear I am observed, and 
 
 censured 
 For bold intrusion. [ Walks by. 
 
 Enter Beatrice and Ascanio. 
 
 Beat. Know you, boy, that gentleman ? 
 A sc. Who ? monsieur Melancholy ? hath 
 
 not your honour 
 Mark'd him before ? 
 
 Beat. I have seen him often wait 
 About the princess' lodgings, but ne'er guess'd 
 What his designs were. 
 
 Asc. No ! what a sigh he breath'd now ! 
 Many such will blow up the roof : en my 
 
 small credit 
 There's gunpowder in them. 
 
 Beat. How, crack! gunpowder? 
 He's flesh and blood, and devils only carry 
 Such roaring stuff about them : you cannot 
 
 prove 
 He is or spirit or conjurer. 
 
 Asc. That I grant, 
 
 But he's a lover, and that's as bad ; their sighs 
 Are like petards, and blow all up. 
 
 Beat. A lover ! 
 I have been in love myself, but never found 
 
 yet 
 That it could work such strange effects. 
 
 Asc. True, madam, 
 In women it cannot ; for when they miss the 
 
 enjoying 
 Of their' full wishes, all their sighs and 
 
 heigh-hoes, 
 At the worst, breed tympanies, and these are 
 
 cured too 
 With a kiss or two of their saint, when he 
 
 appears 
 
 Between a pair of sheets : but, with us men, 
 The case is otherwise. 
 
 Beat. You will be breech 'd, boy, 
 For your physical maxims. But how are 
 
 you assured, 
 He is a lover ? 
 
 Asc. Who, I ? I know with whom too : 
 But that is to be whisper'd. [ Whispers^ 
 
 Beat. How ! the princess ! 
 The unparallel'd Matilda ! some proof of it- 
 I'll pay for my intelligence. 
 
 [Gives Asc. money.. 
 Asc. Let me kiss 
 
THE BASHFUL LOVER. 
 
 5 2 9 
 
 Your honour's hand ; 'twas ever fair, but now 
 Beyond comparison. 
 
 Beat. I guess the reason ; 
 A giving hand is still fair to the receiver. 
 Asc. Your ladyship's in the right ; but to 
 
 the purpose. 
 
 He is my client, and pays his fees as duly 
 As ever usurer did, in a bad cause, 
 To his man of law ; and yet I get, and 
 
 take them 
 
 Both easily and honestly : all the service 
 I do him, is, to give him notice when 
 And where the princess will appear; and that 
 I hope's no treason. If you miss him, when 
 She goes to the vesper or the matins, hang 
 
 me ; 
 
 Or when she takes the air, be sure to find him 
 Near her coach, at her going forth, or 
 
 coming back : 
 But if she walk, he's ravish 'd. I have seen 
 
 him 
 Smell out her footing like a lime-hound, and 
 
 nose it 
 From all the rest of her train. 
 
 Beat. Yet I ne'er saw him 
 Present her a petition. 
 Asc. Nor e'er shall : 
 He only sees her, sighs, and sacrifices 
 A tear or two then vanishes. 
 
 Beat. 'Tis most strange : 
 What a sad aspect he wears ! but I'll make 
 
 use oft. 
 The princess is much troubled with the 
 
 threats 
 That come from Florence ; I will bring her 
 
 to him, 
 
 The novelty may afford her sport, and help 
 To purge deep melancholy. Boy, can you 
 
 stay 
 
 Your client here for the third part of an hour? 
 1 have some ends in't. 
 
 Asc. Stay him, madam ! fear not: 
 The present receipt of around sum of crowns, 
 And that will draw most gallants from their 
 
 prayers, 
 Cannot drag him from me. 
 
 Beat. See you do. [Exit. 
 
 Asc. Ne'er doubt me. 
 I'll put him out of his dream. Good mor- 
 row, signior. 
 Hort. My little friend, good morrow. 
 
 Hath the princess 
 Slept well to-night ? 
 
 Asc. I hear not from her women 
 One murmur to the contrary. 
 
 Hort. Heaven be praised for't ! 
 Does she go to church this morning? 
 
 Asc. Troth, I know not ; 
 I keep no key of her devotion, signior. 
 
 Hort. Goes she abroad? pray tell me. 
 
 Asc. 'Tis thought rather, 
 She is resolv'd to keep her chamber. 
 
 Hort. Ah me ! 
 
 Asc. Why do you sigh ? if that you have 
 
 a business 
 
 To be dispatch'd in court, shew ready money, 
 You shall find those that will prefer it for 
 you. 
 
 Hort. Business ! can any man have busi- 
 ness, but 
 
 To see her; then admire her, and pray for her, 
 She being composed of goodness? for myself, 
 I find it a degree of happiness 
 But to be near her, and I think I pay 
 A strict religious vow, when I behold her ; 
 And that's all my ambition. 
 
 Asc. I believe you : 
 Yet, she being absent, you may spend some 
 
 hours 
 
 With profit and delight too. After dinne*-, 
 The duke gives audience to a rough am- 
 bassador, 
 
 Whom yet I never saw, nor heard his title, 
 Employ 'd from Florence; I'll help you to 
 
 a place, 
 Where you shall see and hear all. 
 
 Hort. 'Tis not worth 
 My observation. 
 
 Asc. What think you of 
 An excellent comedy, to be presented 
 For his entertainment ? he that penn'd it is 
 The poet of the time, and all the ladies, 
 (I mean the amorous and learned ones,) 
 Except the princess, will be there to grace it. 
 
 Hort. What's that to me ? without her all 
 
 is nothing ; 
 The light that shines in court Cimmerian 
 
 darkness ; 
 
 I will to bed again, and there contemplate 
 On her perfections. 
 
 Re-enter Beatrice with Matilda, and two 
 Waiting Women. 
 
 Asc. Stay, sir, see ! the princess, 
 Beyond our hopes. 
 Ho ft. Take that. [Gives him money.'] As 
 
 Moors salute 
 
 The rising sun with joyful superstition, 
 I could fall down and worship. O my 
 
 heart ! 
 Like Phoebe breaking through an envious 
 
 cloud, 
 
 Or something which no simile can express, 
 She shews to me : a reverent fear, but 
 
 blended 
 With wonder and amazement, does possess 
 
 me. 
 
 Now glut thyself, my famish 'd eye ! 
 "M M 
 
53 
 
 THE BASHFUL LOVER. 
 
 Beat. That 'she, 
 An't please your excellence. 
 
 1 Worn. Observe his posture, 
 But with a quarter-look. 
 
 2 Worn. Your eye fix'd on him, 
 Will breed astonishment. 
 
 Matil. A comely gentleman ! 
 I would not question your relation, lady, 
 I Yet faintly can believe it. How he eyes me ! 
 Will he not speak ? 
 
 Beat. Your excellence hath deprived him 
 Of speech and motion. 
 Matil. 'Tis most strange. 
 Asc. These fits 
 Are usual with him. 
 
 Matil. Is it not, Ascanio, 
 ; A personated folly ! or he a statue? 
 ; If it be, it is a masterpiece ; for man 
 I cannot think him. 
 
 Beat. For your sport, vouchsafe him 
 ; A little conference. 
 
 Matil. In compassion rather : 
 For should he love me, as you say, (though 
 
 hopeless,) 
 It should not be return'd with scorn ; that 
 
 were 
 
 An inhumanity, which my birth nor honour 
 Could privilege, were they greater. Now I 
 
 perceive 
 He has life and motion in him. To whom, 
 
 lady, 
 Pays he that duty ? 
 
 [Hortensio, bowing, o/ers to go off. 
 Beat. Sans doubt, to yourself. 
 Matil. And whither goes he now ? 
 Asc. To his private lodging, 
 But to what end I know not ; this is all 
 I ever noted in him. 
 
 Matil. Call him back : 
 In pity I stand bound to counsel him, 
 Howe'er I am denied, though I were willing, 
 To ease his sufferings. 
 
 Asc. Signior ! the princess 
 Commands you to attend her. 
 
 Hort. [Returns. \ How ! the princess ! 
 Am I betray'd ? 
 
 ! Asc. What a lump of flesh is this ! 
 You are betray'd, sir, to a better fortune 
 Than you durst ever hope for. What a 
 
 Tantalus 
 Do you make yourself ! the flying fruit stays 
 
 for you, 
 
 And the water that you long'd for, rising up 
 Above your lip, do you refuse to taste it ? 
 Move faster, sluggish camel, or I'll thrust 
 This goad in your breech : had I such a 
 
 promising beard, 
 
 I should need the reins, not spurs. 
 Matil. You may come nearer. 
 
 Why do you shake, sir ? If I flatter not 
 Myself, there's no deformity about me, 
 Nor any part so monstrous, to beget 
 An ague in you. 
 
 Hort. It proceeds not, madam, 
 From guilt, but reverence. 
 
 Matil. I believe you, sir ; 
 Have you a suit to me ? 
 
 Hort. Your excellence 
 Is wondrous fair. 
 
 Matil. I thank your good opinion. 
 
 Hort. And I beseech you that I may have 
 
 license 
 To kneel to you. 
 
 Matil. A suit I cannot cross. 
 
 Hort. I humbly thank your excellence. 
 
 [Kneels* 
 
 Matil. But what, 
 
 As you are prostrate on your knee before me, 
 Is your petition ? 
 
 Hort. I have none, great princess. 
 
 Matil. Do you kneel for nothing? 
 
 Hort. Yes, I have a suit, 
 But such a one, as, if denied, will kill me. 
 
 Matil. Take comfort : it must be of some 
 
 strange nature, 
 
 Unfitting you to ask, or me to grant, 
 If I refuse it. 
 
 Hort. It is, madam 
 
 Matil. Outwith't. 
 
 Hort. That I may not offend you, this is all,. 
 When I presume to look on you. 
 
 Asc. A flat eunuch ! 
 To look on her ? I should desire myself 
 To move a little further. 
 
 Matil. Only that ? 
 
 Hort. And I beseech you, madam, to- 
 
 believe 
 
 I never did yet with a wanton eye ; 
 Or cherish one lascivious wish beyond it. 
 
 Beat. You'll never make good courtier, or 
 
 be 
 In grace with ladies. 
 
 1 Worn. Or us waiting women, 
 If that be your nil ultra. 
 
 2 Worn. He's no gentleman, 
 On my virginity, it is apparent : 
 
 My tailor has more boldness ; nay, my shoe- 
 maker 
 
 Will fumble a little further, he could not have 
 The length of my foot else. 
 
 Matil. Only to look on me ! 
 Ends your ambition there ? 
 
 Hort. It does, great lady, 
 And that confined too, and at fitting distance: 
 The fly that plays too near theflameburns in it. 
 As I behold the sun, the stars, the temples, 
 I look on you, and wish it were no sin 
 Should I adore you. 
 
THE BASHFUL LOVER. 
 
 Matil. Come, there's something more in't ; 
 And since that you will make a goddess of me, 
 As such a one I'll tell you, I desire not 
 The meanest altar raised up to mine honour 
 To be pull'd down ; I can accept from you, 
 Be your condition ne'er so far beneath me, 
 One grain of incense with devotion offer'd, 
 Beyond all perfumes, or Sabsean spices, 
 By one that proudly thinks he merits in it : 
 I know you love me. 
 
 Hort. Next to heaven, madam, 
 And with as pure a zeal. That, we behold 
 With the eyes of contemplation, but can 
 Arrive no nearer to it in this life ; 
 But when that is divorced, my soul shall 
 
 serve yours, 
 And witness my affection. 
 
 Matil. Pray you, rise ; 
 But wait my further pleasure, 
 
 [Hort. rises and walks aside. 
 
 Enter Farneze and Uberti. 
 
 Farn, I'll present you, 
 And give you proof I am your friend, a true 
 
 one ; 
 
 And in my pleading for you, teach the age, 
 That calls, erroneously, friendship but a 
 
 name, 
 
 It is a substance. Madam, I am bold 
 To trench so far upon your privacy, 
 As to desire my friend (let not that wrong him, 
 For he's a worthy one) may have the honour 
 To kiss your hand. 
 
 Matil. His own worth challenges 
 A greater favour. 
 
 Farn. Your acknowledgment 
 Confirms it, madam. If you look on him 
 As he's built up a man, without addition 
 Of fortune's liberal favours, wealth or titles, 
 He doth deserve no usual entertainment : 
 But, as he is a prince, and for your service 
 Hath left fair Parma, that acknowledges 
 No other lord, and, uncompell'd, exposes 
 His person to the dangers of the war, 
 Ready to break in storms upon our heads ; 
 In noble thankfulness you may vouchsafe him 
 Nearer respect, and such grace as may 
 
 nourish, 
 Not kill, his amorous hopes. 
 
 Matil. Cousin, you know 
 I am not the disposer of myself, 
 The duke my father challenges that power : 
 Yet thus much I dare promise ; prince Uberti 
 Shall find the seed of service that he sows, 
 Falls not on barren ground. 
 
 Uber. For this high favour 
 I am your creature, and profess I owe you 
 Whatever I call mine. [ They -walk aside. 
 
 Hort. This great lord is 
 A suitor to the princess. 
 
 Asc. True, he is so. 
 
 Hort. Fame gives him out too for a brave 
 commander. 
 
 Asc. And in it does him but deserved right ; 
 The duke hath made him general of his horse, 
 On that assurance. 
 
 Hort. And the lord Farneze, 
 Pleads for him, as it seems. 
 
 Asc. 'Tis too apparent : 
 And, this consider'd, give me leave to ask 
 What hope have you, sir ? 
 
 Hort. I may still look on her, 
 Howe'er he wear the garland. 
 
 Asc. A thin diet, 
 And will not feed you fat, sir. 
 
 Uber. I rejoice, 
 
 Rare princess, that you are not to be won 
 By carpet-courtship, but the sword ; with this 
 Steel pen I'll write on Florence' helm how 
 
 much 
 I can, and dare do for you. 
 
 Matil. 'Tis not question'd. 
 Some private business of mine own disposed of, 
 I'll meet you in the presence. 
 
 Uber. Ever your servant. 
 
 [Exeunt Uberti and Farneze. 
 
 Matil. Now, sir, to you. You have ob- 
 served, I doubt not, 
 
 For lovers are sharp-sighted, to what purpose 
 This prince solicits me ; and yet I am not 
 So taken with his worth, but that I can 
 Vouchsafe you further parle. The first com- 
 mand 
 
 That I'll impose upon you, is to hear 
 And follow my good counsel : I am not 
 Offended that you love me, persist in it, 
 But love me virtuously ; such love may spur 
 
 you 
 
 To noble undertakings, which achieved, 
 Will raise you into name, preferment, 
 
 honour : 
 For all which, though you ne'er enjoy my 
 
 person, 
 
 (For that's impossible,) you are indebted 
 To your high aims : visit me when you 
 
 please, 
 
 I do allow it, nor will blush to own you, 
 So you confine yourself to what you promise, 
 As my virtuous servant. 
 
 Beat. Farewell, sir ! you have 
 An unexpected cordial. 
 
 Asc. May it work well ! 
 
 [Exeunt all but Hort. 
 
 Hort. Your love yes, so she said, may 
 
 spur you to 
 
 Brave undertakings: adding this, You may 
 Visit me when you please. Is this allow'd me. 
 
532 
 
 THE BASHFUL LOVER. 
 
 And any act, within the power of man, 
 Impossible to be effected ? no : 
 I wall break through all oppositions that 
 May stop me in my full career to honour : 
 And, borrowing strength to do, from her 
 
 high favour, 
 
 Add something to Alcides' greatest labour. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 SCENE II. The same. A State-room in 
 
 the Palace. 
 F.nter Gonzaga, Uberti, Farneze, Manfroy, 
 
 and Attendants. 
 
 Gon. This is your place ; and, were it in 
 
 our power, [Leads Uberti to the state. 
 
 "You should have greater honour, prince of 
 
 Parma ; 
 The rest know theirs. Let some attend 
 
 with care 
 
 On the ambassador, and let my daughter 
 Be present at his audience. 
 
 [Exeunt Attendants. 
 Reach a chair, 
 We'll do all fit respects ; and, pray you, 
 
 put on 
 Your milder looks, you are in a place where 
 
 frowns 
 Are no prevailing agents. [To Uberti. 
 
 Enter at one door Alonzo and Attendants : 
 Matilda, Beatrice, Ascanio, Hortensio, 
 and Waiting Women, at the other. 
 
 Asc. I have seen 
 More than a wolf, a Gorgon ! [Swoons. 
 
 Gon. What's the matter? 
 
 Matild. A page of mine is fallen into a 
 
 swoon ; 
 Look to him carefully. 
 
 [Ascanio is carried out. 
 
 Gon. Now, when you please, 
 The cause that brought you hither ? 
 
 A Ion. The protraction 
 Of my dispatch forgotten, from Lorenzo, 
 The Tuscan duke, thus much to you, 
 
 Gonzaga, 
 
 The duke of Mantua. By me, his nephew, 
 He does salute you fairly, and entreats 
 (A word not suitable to his power and 
 
 greatness) 
 
 You would consent to tender that which he, 
 Unwillingl), must force, if contradicted. 
 Ambition, in a private man a vice, 
 Is, in a prince, the virtue. 
 
 Gon. To the purpose ; 
 j These ambages are impertinent. 
 
 A Ion. He demands 
 The fair Matilda, for I dare not take 
 From her perfections, in a noble way ; 
 And in creating her the comfort of 
 
 His royal bed, to raise her to a height 
 Her flattering hopes could not aspire, where 
 
 she 
 
 With wonder shall be gazed upon, and live 
 The envy of her sex. 
 
 Gon. Suppose this granted. 
 Uber. Or, if denied, what follows ? 
 A Ion. Present war, 
 
 With all extremities the conqueror can 
 Inflict upon the vanquish 'd. 
 
 Uber. Grant me license 
 To answer this defiance. What intelligence 
 Holds your proud master with the will of 
 
 heaven, 
 
 That, ere the uncertain die of war be thrown, 
 He dares assure himself the victory? 
 Are his unjust invading arms of fire? 
 Or those we put on in defence of right, 
 Like chaff, to be consumed in the encounter? 
 I look on your dimensions, and find not 
 Mine own' of lesser size ; the blood that fills 
 My veins, as hot as yours ; my sword as sharp, 
 My nerves of equal strength, my heart as 
 
 good ; 
 
 And, confident we have the better cause, 
 Why should we fear the trial ? 
 
 Far. You presume 
 You are superior in numbers ; we 
 Lay hold upon the surest anchor, virtue ; 
 Which, when the tempest of the war roars 
 
 loudest, 
 Must prove a strong protection. 
 
 Gon. Two main reasons 
 (Seconding those you have already heard) 
 Give us encouragement ; the duty that 
 I owe my mother-country, and the love 
 Descending to my daughter. For the first, 
 Should I betray her liberty, I deserv'd 
 To have my name with infamy razed from 
 The catalogue of good princes ; and I should 
 Unnaturally forget I am a father, 
 If, like a Tartar, or for fear or profit, 
 I should consign her, as a bondwoman, 
 To be disposed of at another's pleasure ; 
 Her own consent or favour never sued for, 
 And mine by force exacted. No, Alonzo, 
 She is my only child, my heir ; and, if 
 A father's eyes deceive me not, the hand 
 Of prodigal nature hath given so much to 
 
 her, 
 
 As, in the former ages, kings would rise up 
 In her defence, and make her cause their 
 
 quarrel : 
 
 Nor can she, if that any spark remain 
 To kindle a desire to be possess'd 
 Of such a beauty, in our time, want swords 
 To guard it safe from violence. 
 
 Hort. I must speak, 
 Or I shall burst ; now to be silent were 
 
THE BASHFUL LOVER. 
 
 533 
 
 A kind of blasphemy : if such purity, 
 Such innocence, an abstract of perfection, 
 The soul of beauty, virtue, in a word, 
 A temple of things sacred, should groan 
 
 under 
 
 The burthen of oppression, we might 
 Accuse the saints, and tax the Powers above 
 us 
 
 Of negligence or injustice. Pardon, sir, 
 
 A stranger's boldness, and in your mercy 
 
 call it 
 
 True zeal, not rudeness. In a cause like this, 
 The husbandman would change his plough- 
 ing-irons 
 
 To weapons of defence, and leave the earth 
 Untill'd, although a general dearth should 
 
 follow : 
 The student would forswear his book, the 
 
 lawyer 
 
 Put off his thriving gown, and, without pay, 
 Conclude this cause is to be fought, not 
 
 pleaded. 
 
 The women will turn Amazons, as their sex 
 In her were wrong'd ; and boys write down 
 
 their names 
 In the muster-book for soldiers. 
 
 Gon. Take my hand : 
 Whate'er you are, I thank you. How are 
 
 you call'd ? 
 
 Hort. Hortensio, a Milanese. 
 Gon. I wish 
 
 Mantua had many such. My lord am- 
 bassador, 
 Some privacy, if you please ; Manfroy, you 
 
 may 
 Partake it, and advise us. 
 
 [ They walk aside. 
 Uber. Do you know, friend, 
 What this man is, or of what country ? 
 Farn. Neither. 
 Uber. I'll question him myself. What are 
 
 you, sir? 
 
 Hort. A gentleman. 
 Uber. But if there be gradation 
 In gentry, as the heralds say, you have 
 Been over-bold in the presence of your 
 
 betters. 
 
 Hort. My betters, sir ! 
 Uber. Your betters. As I take it, 
 You are no prince. 
 
 Hort. 'Tis fortune's gift you were born one ; 
 I have not heard that glorious title crowns 
 
 you, 
 
 As a reward of virtue : it may be, 
 The first of your house deserv'd it ; yet his 
 
 merits 
 
 You can but faintly call your own. 
 Matil. Well answer'd. 
 Uber. You come up to me. 
 
 Hort. I would not turn my back, 
 If you were the duke of Florence, though 
 
 you charged me 
 I' the head of your troops. 
 
 Uber. Tell me in gentler language, 
 Your passionate speech induces me to think 
 
 so, 
 Do you love the princess ? 
 
 Hort. Were you mine enemy, 
 Your foot upon my breast, sword at my 
 
 throat, 
 
 Even then I would profess it. The ascent 
 To the height of honour is by arts or arms \ 
 And if such an unequall'd prize might fall 
 On him that did deserve best in defence 
 Of this rare princess in the day of battle, 
 I should lead you a way would make your 
 
 greatness 
 Sweat drops of blood to follow. 
 
 Uber. Can your excellence 
 Hear this without rebuke from one unknown? 
 Is he a rival for a prince ? 
 
 Matil. My lord, 
 
 You take that liberty I never gave you. 
 In justice you should give encouragement 
 To him, or any man, that freely offers 
 His life to do me service, not deter him ; 
 I give no suffrage to it. Grant he loves me, 
 As he professes, how are you wrong'd in it ? 
 Would you have all men hate me but your- 
 self? 
 
 No more of this, I pray you : if this gentle- 
 man 
 
 Fight for my freedom, in a fit proportion 
 To his desert and quality, I can 
 And will reward him ; yet give you no cause 
 Of jealousy or envy. 
 Hort. Heavenly lady ! 
 Gon. No peace but on such poor and base 
 
 conditions ! 
 
 We will not buy it at that rate : return 
 This answer to your master : Though we 
 
 wish'd 
 
 To hold fair quarter with him, on such terms 
 As honour would give way to, we are not 
 So thunderstruck with the loud voice of war, 
 As to acknowledge him our lord before 
 His sword hath made us vassals : we long 
 
 since 
 
 Have had intelligence of the unjust gripe 
 He purposed to lay on us ; neither are we 
 So unprovided as you think, my lord ; 
 He shall not need so seek us ; we will meet 
 
 him, 
 
 And prove the fortune of a day, perhaps 
 Sooner than he expects. 
 
 A Ion. And find repentance, 
 When 'tis too late. Farewell. 
 
 [Exit -with Farneze. 
 
534 
 
 THE BASHFUL LOVER. 
 
 Gon. No, my Matilda, 
 We must not part so. Beasts and birds of 
 
 prey, 
 To their last gasp, defend their brood ; and 
 
 Florence, 
 Over thy father's breast shall march up to 
 
 thee, 
 
 Before he force affection. The arms 
 That thou must put on for us and thyself, 
 Are prayers and pure devotion, which will 
 Be heard, Matilda, Manfroy, to your trust 
 We do give up the city, and my daughter ; 
 On both keep a strong guard No tears, 
 
 they are ominous. 
 O my Octavio, my tried Octavio, 
 In all my dangers ! now I want thy service, 
 In passion recompensed with banishment. 
 Error of princes, who hate virtue when 
 She's present with us, and in vain admire her 
 When she is absent ! 'tis too late to think 
 
 on't. 
 
 The wish 'd-for time is come, princely Uberti, 
 To shew your valour ; friends, being to do, 
 
 not talk, 
 
 All rhetoric is fruitless, only this, 
 Fate cannot rob you of deserv'd applause, 
 Whether you win or lose in such a cause. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 SCENE I. Mantua. A Room in the 
 Palace. 
 
 Enter Matilda, Beatrice, and Waiting 
 Women. 
 
 Matil. No matter for the ring I ask'd you 
 
 for. 
 
 The boy not to be found ? 
 Beat. Nor heard of, madam. 
 
 1 Worn. He hath been sought and search'd 
 for, house by house, 
 
 Nay, every nook of the city, but to no pur- 
 pose. 
 
 2 \Vorn, And how he should escape hence, 
 the lord Manfroy 
 
 Being so vigilant o'er the guards, appears 
 A thing impossible. 
 
 Matil. I never saw him, 
 Since he swoon'd in the presence, when my 
 
 father 
 
 Gave audience to the ambassador : but I feel 
 A sad miss of him ; on any slight occasion, 
 He would find out such pretty arguments 
 To make me sport, and with such witty 
 
 sweetness 
 
 Deliver his opinion, that I must 
 Ingenuously confess his harmless mirth, 
 
 When I was most oppress'd with care, 
 
 wrought more 
 
 In the removing oft, than music on me. 
 Beat. An't please your excellence, I have 
 
 observed him 
 Waggishly witty ; yet, sometimes, on the 
 
 sudden, 
 
 He would be very pensive ; and then talk 
 So feelingly of love, as if he had 
 Tasted the bitter sweets oft. 
 
 1 Warn. He would tell, too, 
 
 A pretty tale of a sister, that had been 
 Deceived by her sweetheart ; and then, 
 
 weeping, swear 
 He wonder'd how men could be false. 
 
 2 Worn. And that 
 
 When he was a knight, he'd be the ladies' 
 
 champion, 
 
 And travel o'er the world to kill such lovers, 
 As durst play false with their mistresses. 
 
 Matil. I am sure 
 I want his company. 
 
 Enter Manfroy. 
 
 Man. There are letters, madam, 
 In post come from the duke; but I am 
 
 charged, 
 
 By the careful bringer, not to open them 
 But in your presence. 
 
 Matil. Heaven preserve my father ! 
 Good news, an't be thy will ! ' 
 
 Man. Patience must arm you 
 Against what's ill. 
 
 Matil. I'll hear them in my cabinet. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE II. The Dutchy <?/ Mantua. 
 Gonzaga's Camp. 
 
 Enter Hortensio and Ascanio. 
 
 Hort. Why have you left the safety of the 
 
 city, 
 
 And service of the princess, to partake 
 The dangers of the camp ? and at a time too 
 When the armies are in view, and every 
 
 minute 
 The dreadful charge expected ? 
 
 Asc. You appear 
 
 So far beyond yourself, as you are now, 
 Arm'd like a soldier, (though I grant your 
 
 presence 
 
 Was ever gracious,) that I grow enamour'd 
 Of the profession : in the horror of it, 
 There is a kind of majesty. 
 
 Hort. But too heavy 
 
 To sit on thy soft shoulders, youth ; retire 
 To the duke's tent, that's guarded. 
 
 Asc. Sir, I come 
 To serve you ; knight-adventurers are allow'd 
 
THE BASHFUL LOVER. 
 
 535 
 
 Their pages, and I bring a will that shnll 
 Supply my want of power. 
 
 Hort. To-4erve me, boy ! 
 I wish, believe it, that 'twere in my nerves 
 To do thee any service ; and thou shalt, 
 If I survive the fortune of this day, 
 Be satisfied I am serious. 
 
 Asc. I am not 
 
 To be put off so, sir. Since you do neglect 
 My offer'd duty, I must use the power 
 I bring along with me, that may command 
 
 you: 
 You have seen this ring 
 
 Hort. Made rich by being worn 
 Upon the princess' finger. 
 
 Asc. 'Tis a favour 
 
 To you, by me sent from her: view it better; 
 But why coy to receive it ? 
 
 Hort. I am unworthy 
 Of such a blessing, I have done nothing 
 
 yet 
 
 That may deserve it ; no commander's blood 
 Of the adverse party hath yet died my sword 
 Drawn out in her defence. I must not 
 
 take it. 
 
 This were a triumph for me when I had 
 Made Florence' duke my prisoner, and 
 
 compell'd him 
 To kneel for mercy at her feet. 
 
 Asc. 'Twas sent, sir, 
 To put you in mind whose cause it is you 
 
 fight for ; 
 
 And, as I am her creature, to revenge 
 A wrong to me done. 
 
 Hort. By what man? 
 
 Asc. Alonzo. 
 
 Hort. The ambassador ? 
 
 Asc. The same. 
 
 Hort. Let it suffice. 
 I know him by his armour and his horse ; 
 
 And if we meet \Trumpets soitndJ] I 
 
 am cut off, the alarum 
 Commands me hence : sweet youth, fall off. 
 
 Asc. I must not ; 
 
 You are too noble to receive a wound 
 Upon your back, and, following close be- 
 hind you, 
 
 I am secure ; though I could wish my bosom 
 Were your defence. 
 
 Hort. Thy kindness will undo thee. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 'SCENE III. The same. Lorenzo's Camp. 
 
 Enter Lorenzo, Alonzo, Pisano, and 
 Martino. 
 
 Lor. We'll charge the main battalia, fall 
 
 you 
 Upon the van preserve your troops entire, 
 
 To force the rear : he dies that breaks his 
 
 ranks, 
 
 Till all be ours, and sure. 
 Pis. Tis so proclaim'd. {Exeunt. 
 
 Fighting and alarum. Enter Hortensio, 
 Ascanio, and Alonzo. 
 
 Hort. Tis he, Ascanio : Stand ! 
 
 A Ion. I never shunn'd 
 A single opposition ; but tell me 
 Why, in the battle, of all men, thou hast 
 Made choice of me ? 
 
 Hott. Look on this youth ; his cause 
 Sits on my sword. 
 
 A Ion. I know him not. 
 
 Hort. I'll help 
 Your memory. {They fight. 
 
 Asc. What have I done ? I am doubtful 
 To whom to wish the victory ; for, still 
 My resolution wavering, I so love 
 The enemy that wrong'd me, that I cannot, 
 Without repentance, wish success to him 
 That seeks to do me right. [Alonzo falts.l 
 
 Alas, he's fall'n ! 
 
 As you are gentle, hold, sir ! or, if I want 
 Power to persuade so far, I conjure you 
 By her loved name I am sent from. 
 
 Hort. Tis a charm 
 Too strong to be resisted : he is yours. 
 Yet, why you should make suit to save that 
 
 life 
 Which you so late desired should be cut 
 
 off, 
 For injuries received, begets my wonder. 
 
 Asc. Alas ! we foolish, spleenful boys 
 
 would have 
 We know not what ; I have some private 
 
 reasons, 
 But now not to be told. 
 
 Hort. Shall I take him prisoner? 
 
 Asc.. By no means, sir ; I will not save 
 
 his life, 
 
 To rob him of his honour : when you give, 
 Give not by halves. One short word, and I 
 follow. {Exit Hortensio. 
 
 My lord Alonzo, if you have received 
 A benefit, and would know to whom you 
 
 owe it, 
 
 Remember what your entertainment was 
 At old Octavio's house, one you call'd 
 
 friend, 
 And how you did return it. [Exit. 
 
 A Ion. I remember 
 I did not well ; but it is now no time 
 To think upon't : my wounded honour calls 
 For reparation, I must quench my fury 
 For this disgrace, in blood, and some shall 
 smart for't. {Exit. 
 
536 
 
 THE BASHFUL LOVER. 
 
 SCENE IV. The same. A Forest. 
 
 Alarum continued. Enter Uberti, and 
 Farneze -wounded. 
 
 Farn. O prince Uberti, valour cannot 
 
 save us ; 
 
 The body of our army's pierced and broken, 
 The wings are routed, and our scatter 'd troops 
 Not to be rallied up. 
 
 Uber. "Tis yet some comfort, 
 The enemy must say we were not wanting 
 In courage or direction ; and we may 
 Accuse the Powers above as partial, when 
 A good cause, well defended too, must suffer 
 For want of fortune. 
 
 Farn. All is lost ; the duke 
 Too far engaged, I fear, to be brought off: 
 Three times I did attempt his rescue, but 
 With odds was beaten back ; only the 
 
 stranger, 
 
 I speak it to my shame, still follow 'd him, 
 Cutting his way ; but 'tis beyond my hopes, 
 That either should return. 
 
 Uber. That noble stranger, 
 Whom I, in my proud vanity of greatness, 
 As one unknown contemn'd, when I was 
 
 thrown 
 
 Out of my saddle by the great duke's lance, 
 Horsed me again, in spite of all that made 
 Resistance ; and then whisper'd in mine ear, 
 Fight bravely, prince Uberti, there's no way 
 
 else. 
 To the fair Matilda's favour. 
 
 Farn. 'Twas done nobly. 
 
 Uber. In you, my bosom-friend, I had 
 
 call'd it noble : 
 
 But such a courtesy from a rival merits 
 The highest attribute. 
 
 Enter Hortensio and Gonzaga. 
 
 Farn. Stand on your guard ; 
 We are pursued. 
 
 Uber. Preserv d ! wonder on wonder. 
 
 Farn. The duke in safety ! 
 
 Gon. Pay your thanks, Farneze, 
 To this brave man, if I may call him so, 
 Who5e acts were more than human. If 
 
 thou art 
 
 My better angel, from my infancy 
 Design'd to guard me, like thyself appear, 
 For sure thou'rt more than mortal. 
 
 Hort. No, great sir, 
 A weak and sinful man ; though I have done 
 
 you 
 Some prosperous service that hath found your 
 
 favour, 
 
 I am lost to myself : but lose not you 
 The offer'd opportunity to delude' 
 The hot-pursuing enemy ; these woods, 
 
 Nor the dark veil of night, cannot conceal you, 
 If you dwell long here. You may rise again ; 
 But I am fallen for ever. 
 
 Farn. Rather borne up 
 To the supreme sphere of honour. 
 
 Uber. I confess 
 My life your gift. 
 Gon. My liberty. 
 Uber. You have snatch'd 
 The wreath of conquest from the victor's head, 
 And do alone, in scorn of Lorenzo's fortune,. 
 Though we are slaved, by true heroic valour 
 Deserve a triumph. 
 
 Gon. From whence then proceeds 
 This poor dejection ? 
 
 Hort. In one suit I'll tell you, 
 Which I beseech you grant : I loved your 
 
 daughter, 
 
 But how? as beggars in their woundedfancy, 
 Hope to be monarchs : I long languished for 
 
 her, 
 
 But did receive no cordial, but what 
 Despair, my rough physician, prescribed me. 
 A length her goodness and compassion- 
 
 found it ; 
 
 And, whereas I expected, and with reason, 
 The distance and disparity consider'd 
 Between her birth and mine, she would con- 
 temn me, 
 
 The princess gave me comfort. 
 Gon. In what measure? 
 Hort. She did admit me for her knight 
 
 and servant, 
 
 And spurr'd metodosomethingin this battle, 
 Fought for her liberty, thatmight not blemish 
 So fair a favour. 
 
 Gon. This you have perform 'd, 
 To the height of admiration. 
 
 Uber. I subscribe to't, 
 That am your rival. 
 
 Hort. You are charitable : 
 But how short of my hopes, nay, the assurance 
 Of those achievements which my love and 
 
 youth 
 
 Already held accomplish'd, this day's fortune 
 Must sadly answer. What I did, she gave me 
 The strength to do ; her piety preserved 
 Her father, and her gratitude for the dangers 
 You threw yourself into for her defence, 
 Protected you by me her instrument : 
 But when I came to strike in mine own cause, 
 And to do something so remarkable, 
 That should at my return command her 
 
 thanks 
 
 And gracious entertainment, then, alas ! 
 I fainted like a coward. I made a vow, too, 
 (And it is register'd.) ne'er to presume 
 To come into her presence, if I brought not 
 Her fears and dangers bound in letters to her, 
 
THE BASHFUL LOVER. 
 
 537 
 
 Which now's impossible. Hark ! the 
 
 enemy 
 Makes his approaches : save yourselves 
 
 this only 
 
 Deliver to her sweetness ; I have done 
 My poor endeavours, and pray her not repent 
 Her goodness to me. May you live to serve 
 
 her, 
 
 This loss recover 'd, with a happier fate ! 
 And make use of this sword : arms I abjure, 
 And conversation of men ; I'll seek out 
 Some unfrequented cave, and die love's 
 martyr. [Exit hastily. 
 
 Gon. Follow him. 
 Ubtr. 'Tis in vain ; his nimble feet 
 Have borne him from my sight. 
 Gon. I suffer for him. 
 Farn. We share in it ; but must not, sir, 
 
 forget 
 Your means of safety. 
 
 Uber. In the war I have served you, 
 And to the death will follow you. 
 Gon. 'Tis not fit, 
 
 We must divide ourselves. My daughter 
 
 If I retain yet 
 
 A sovereign's power o'er thee, or friend's 
 
 with you, 
 
 Do, and dispute not ; by my example change 
 Your habits : as I thus put off my purple, 
 Ambition dies ; this garment of a shepherd, 
 Left here by chance, will serve ; in lieu of it, 
 I leave this to the owner. Raise new forces, 
 And meet me at St. Leo's fort ; my daughter, 
 As I commanded Manfroy, there will meet 
 
 us. 
 
 The city cannot hold out, we must part : 
 Farewell, thy hand. 
 Farn. You still shall have my heart. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE V. The same. Another part 
 
 of the Forest. 
 Enter Lorenzo, Alonzo, Pisario, Martino, 
 
 Captains, and Soldiers. 
 Lor. The day is ours, though it cost dear ; 
 
 yet 'tis not 
 
 Enough to get a victory, if we lose 
 The true use of it. We have hitherto 
 Held back your forward swords, and in our 
 
 fear 
 
 Of ambushes, deferr'd the wish'd reward 
 Due to your bloody toil : but now give free- 
 dom, 
 
 Nay, license to your fury and revenge ; 
 Now glut yourselves with prey ; let not the 
 
 night, 
 
 Nor these thick woods, give sanctuary to 
 The fear-struck hares, our enemies : fire 
 these trees, 
 
 And force the wretches to forsake their holes, 
 And offer theirscorch'd bodies to your swords, 
 Or burn them as a sacrifice to your angers. 
 Who brings Gonzaga's head, or takes him 
 
 prisoner, 
 
 (Which I incline to rather, that he may 
 Be sensible of those tortures, which I vow 
 To inflict upon him for denial of 
 His daughter to curbed, ) shall have a blank, 
 With our hand and signet made authentical, 
 In which he may write down himself, what 
 
 wealth 
 Or honours he desires. 
 
 Alon. The great duke's will 
 Shall be obey'd. 
 
 Pisan. Put it in execution. 
 
 Mart. Begirt the wood, and fire it. 
 
 Sold. Follow, follow ! [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE VI.- The same. Another part of 
 
 the same. 
 Enter Farneze, disguised as a Florentine 
 
 Soldier. 
 
 Farn. Uberti, prince Uberti! Omyfriend, 
 Dearer than life ! I have lost thee. Cruel 
 
 fortune, 
 
 Unsatisfied with our sufferings ! we no sooner 
 Were parted from the duke, and e'en then 
 
 ready 
 
 To take a mutual farewell, when a troop 
 Of the enemy's horse fell on us ; we were 
 
 forced 
 
 To take the woods again, but, in our flight, 
 Their hot pursuit divided us : we had been 
 
 happy 
 
 If we had died together. To survive him, 
 To me is worse than death ; and therefore 
 
 should not 
 Embrace the means of my escape, though 
 
 offer'd. 
 
 When nature gave us life she gave a burthen, 
 But at our pleasure not to be cast off, 
 Though weary of it ; and my reason prompts 
 
 me, 
 
 This habit of a Florentine, which I took 
 From a dying soldier, may keep me un- 
 known, 
 
 Till opportunity mark me out a way 
 For flight, and with security. 
 
 Enter Uberti. 
 
 Uber. Was there ever 
 Such a night of horror ? 
 
 Farn. My friend's voice ! I now 
 In part forgive thee, fortune. 
 
 Uber. The wood flames, 
 The bloody sword devours all that it meets, 
 And death in several shapes rides here in 
 triumph. 
 
538 
 
 THE BASHFUL LOVER. 
 
 I am like a stag closed in a toil, my life, 
 As soon as found, the cruel huntsman's 
 
 prey : 
 
 "Why fliest thou, then, what is inevitable ? 
 Better to fall with manly wounds before 
 Thy cruel enemy, than survive thine honour: 
 And yet to charge him, and die unrevenged, 
 Mere desperation. 
 Farn. Heroic spirit ! 
 Uber. Mine own life I contemn, and would 
 
 not save it 
 
 But for the future service of the duke, 
 And safety of his daughter ; having means, 
 If I escape, to raise a second army ; 
 And, what is nearest to me, to enjoy 
 My friend Farneze. 
 
 Farn. I am still his care. 
 
 Uber. What shall I do? if I call loud, the 
 
 foe 
 That hath begirt the wood, will hear the 
 
 sound. 
 
 Shall I return by the same path ? I cannot, 
 The darkness of the night conceals it from 
 
 me ; 
 Something I must resolve. 
 
 Farn. Let friendship rouse 
 Thy sleeping soul, Farneze : wilt thou suffer 
 : Thy friend, a prince, nay, one that may set 
 
 free 
 
 Thy captived country, perish, when 'tis in 
 Thy power, with this disguise, to save his life? 
 Thou hast lived too long, therefore resolve 
 
 to die ; 
 Thou hast seen thy country ruin'd, and thy 
 
 master 
 Compell'd to shameful flight ; the fields and 
 
 woods 
 
 Strew 'd o'er with carcases of thy fellow- 
 soldiers : 
 
 The miseries thou art fallen in, and before 
 Thy eyes the horror of this place, and 
 
 thousand 
 
 Calamities to come ; and after all these, 
 Can any hope remain ? shake off delays : 
 Dost thou doubt yet ? To save a citizen, 
 The conquering Roman in a general 
 Esteem'd the highest honour : can it be then 
 Inglorious to preserve a prince? thy friend? 
 Uberti, prince Uberti ! [Aloud'] use this 
 
 means 
 Of thy escape ; 
 
 [Pulls off his Florentine uniform, 
 
 and casts it before Uberti. 
 conceal'd in this, thou mayst 
 Pass through the enemy's guards : the time 
 
 denies 
 
 Longer discourse ; thou hast a noble end, 
 l.iv-e, therefore, mindful of thy dying friend. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Uber. Farneze, stay thy hasty steps ! 
 
 Farneze ! 
 
 Thy friend Uberti calls thee : 'tis in vain ; 
 He's gone to death an innocent, and makes 
 
 life, 
 
 The benefit he confers on me, my guilt. 
 Thou art too covetous of another's safety, 
 Too prodigal and careless of thine own. 
 'Tis a deceit in friendship to enjoin me 
 To put this garment on, and live, that he 
 May have alone the honour to die nobly. 
 
 cruel piety, in our equal danger 
 
 To rob thyself of that thou giv'st thy friend ! 
 It must not be ; I will restore his gift, 
 And die before him. How? where shall I 
 
 find him ? 
 
 Thou art o'ercome in friendship ; yield, 
 
 Uberti, 
 
 To the extremity of the time, and live : 
 A heavy ransome ! but it must be paid. 
 
 1 will put on this habit : pitying heaven, 
 As it loves goodness, may protect my friend, 
 And give me means to satisfy the debt 
 
 I stand engaged for ; if not, pale despair, 
 I dare thy worst ; thou canst but bid me die, 
 And so much I'll force from an enemy. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 SCENE VII. The same. Lorenzo's 
 
 Camp. 
 Enter Alonzo and Pisano, with Farneze 
 
 bound; Soldiers with torches, Farneze 's 
 
 sword in one of the Soldier's hands. 
 
 A Ion. I know him, he's a man of ransome. 
 
 Pisan. True ; 
 But if he live, 'tis to be paid to me. 
 
 Alon. I forced him to the woods. 
 
 Pisan. But my art found him ; 
 Nor will I brook a partner in the prey 
 My fortune gave me. 
 
 Alon. Render him, or expect 
 The point of this. 
 
 Pisan. Were it lightning, I would meet it, 
 Rather than be outbraved. 
 
 Alon. I thus decide 
 The difference. 
 
 Pisan. My sword shall plead my title. 
 
 [They fight. 
 
 Enter Lorenzo, Martino, Captains, and 
 Attendants. 
 
 Lor. Ha ! where learn'd you this disci- 
 pline? my commanders 
 Opposed 'gainst one another! what blind fury 
 Brings forth this brawl ? Alonzo and Pisano 
 At bloody difference ! hold, or I tilt 
 At both as enemies. Now speak ; how grew 
 This strange division ? 
 
 Pisan. Against all right, 
 
THE BASHFUL LOVER. 
 
 539 
 
 By force Alonzo strives to reap the harvest 
 Sown by my labour. 
 
 Alon. Sir, this is my prisoner, 
 The purchase of my sword, which proud 
 
 Pisano, 
 That hath no interest in him, would take 
 
 from me. 
 
 Pisan. Did not the presence of the duke 
 forbid me, 
 
 I would say 
 
 Alon. What? 
 Pisan. Tis false. 
 Lor. Before my face ! 
 
 Keep them asunder. And was this the cause 
 Of such a mortal quarrel, this the base 
 To raise your fury on ? the ties of blood, 
 Of fellowship in arms, respect, obedience 
 To me, your prince and general, no more 
 Prevailing on you ? this a price for which 
 You would betray our victory, or wound 
 Your reputation with mutinies, 
 Forgetful of yourselves, allegiance, honour? 
 This is a course to throw us headlong down 
 From that proud height of empire, upon 
 
 which 
 
 We were securely seated. Shall division 
 O'erturn what concord built ? if you desire 
 To bathe your swords in blood, the enemy 
 Still flies before you : would you have spoil ? 
 
 the country 
 
 Lies open to you. O unheard-of madness ! 
 What greater mischief could Gonzaga wish 
 
 us, 
 Than you pluck on our heads? no, my 
 
 brave leaders, 
 
 Let unity dwell in our tents, and discord 
 Be banis'h'd to our enemies. 
 Alon. Take the prisoner, 
 I do give up my title. 
 
 Pisan. I desire 
 
 Your friendship, and will buy it ; he is yours. 
 
 \They embrace. 
 
 Alon. No man's a faithful judge in his 
 
 own cause ; 
 Let the duke determine of him : we are 
 
 friends, sir. 
 
 Lor. Shew it in emulation to o'ertake 
 The flying foe ; this cursed wretch disposed of, 
 With our whole strength we'll follow. 
 
 {Exeunt Alonzo and Pisano embracing. 
 Farn. Death at length 
 Will set a period to calamity : 
 I see it in this tyrant's frowns haste to me. 
 
 Enter Uberti, habited like a Florentine 
 Soldier, and mixes with the rest. 
 
 Lor. Thou machine of this mischief, look 
 
 to feel 
 Whate'er the wrath of an incensed prince 
 
 Can pour upon thee : with thy blood I'll 
 
 quench 
 
 (But drawn forth slowly) the invisible flames 
 Of discord by thy charms first fetch'd from 
 
 hell, 
 
 Then forced into the breasts of my com- 
 manders. 
 Bring forth the tortures. 
 
 Uber. Hear, victorious duke, 
 The story of my miserable fortune, 
 Of which this villain (by your sacred tongue 
 Condemned to die) was the immediate cause : 
 And, if my humble suit have justice in it, 
 Vouchsafe to grant it. 
 
 Lor. Soldier, be brief, our anger 
 Can brook no long delay. 
 
 Uber. I am the last 
 Of three sons, by one father got, and train'd 
 
 up 
 
 With his best care, for service in your wars : 
 My father died under his fatal hand, 
 And two of my poor brothers. Now I hear, 
 Or fancy, wounded by my grief, deludes me, 
 Their pale and mangled ghosts crying for 
 
 vengeance 
 On perjury and murder. Thus the case 
 
 stood : 
 
 My father, (on whose face he durst not look 
 In equal mart,) by his fraud circumvented, 
 Became his captive ; we, his sons, lamenting 
 Our old sire's hard condition, freely offer'd 
 Our utmost for his ransome : that refused, 
 The subtile tyrant, for his cruel ends, 
 Conceiving that our piety might ensnare us, 
 Proposed my father's head to be redeem'd, 
 If two of us would yield ourselves his slaves. 
 We, upon any terms, resolved to save him, 
 Though with the loss of life which he gave 
 
 to us, 
 
 With an undaunted constancy drew lots 
 (For each of us contended to be one) 
 Who should preserve our father ; I was 
 
 exempted, 
 
 But to my more affliction. My brothers 
 Deliver'd up, the perjured homicide, 
 Laughing in scorn, and by his hoary locks 
 Pulling my wretched father on his knees, 
 Said, Thus receive the father you have ran- 
 somed ! 
 
 And instantly struck off his head. 
 Lor. Most barbarous ! 
 Farn. I never saw this man. 
 Lor. One murmur more, 
 I'll have thy tongue pull'd out. Proceed. 
 
 Uber. Conceive, sir, 
 How thunderstruck we stood, being made 
 
 spectators 
 
 Of such an unexpected tragedy : 
 Yet this was a beginning, not an end 
 
540 
 
 THE BASHFUL LOVER. 
 
 To his in'ended cruelty ; for, pursuing 
 Such a revenge as no Hyrcanian tigress, 
 Robb'd of her whelps, durst aim at, in a 
 
 moment, 
 
 Treading upon my father's trunk, he cut off 
 My pious brothers' heads, and threw them 
 
 at me. 
 
 Oh, what a spectacle was this ! what moun- 
 tain 
 
 Of sorrow overwhelm'd me ! my poor heart- 
 strings, 
 
 As tenter 'd by his tyranny, crack'd ; my knees 
 Beating 'gainst one another, groans and 
 
 tears 
 Blended together follow'd ; not one passion 
 
 Calamity ever yet express'd, forgotten. 
 
 Now, mighty sir, (bathing your feet with 
 
 tears,) 
 Your suppliant's suit is, that he may have 
 
 leave, 
 
 With any cruelty revenge can fancy, 
 To sacrifice this monster, to appease 
 My father's ghost, and brothers'. 
 
 'Lor. Thou hast obtain'd it : 
 Choose any torture, let the memory 
 Of what thy father and thy brothers suffer'd, 
 Make thee ingenious in it ; such a one, 
 As Phalaris would wish to be call'd his. 
 Martino, guarded with your soldiers, see 
 The execution done ; but bring his head, 
 On forfeiture of your own, to us : our presence 
 Long since was elsewhere look'd for. 
 
 [Exit, with Captains and Attendants. 
 Mart. Soldier, to work ; 
 Take any way thou wilt for thy revenge, 
 Provided that he die : his body's thine, 
 But I must have his head. 
 
 Uber. I have already 
 
 Concluded of the manner. O just heaven, 
 The instrument I wish'd for ofter'd me ! 
 Mart. Why art thou rapt thus ? 
 Uber. In this soldier's hand 
 I see the murderer's own sword, I know it ; 
 Yes, this is it by which my father and 
 My brothers were beheaded : noble captain, 
 Command it to my hand. \Takes Farneze's 
 
 sword from the Soldier.] Stand forth 
 
 and tremble ! 
 This weapon, of late drunk with innocent 
 
 blood, 
 Shall now carouse thine own : pray, if thou 
 
 canst, 
 For, though the world shall not redeem thy 
 
 body, 
 I would not kill thy soul. 
 
 Farn. Canst thou believe 
 There is a heaven, or hell, or soul? thou hast 
 
 none, 
 In death to rob me of my fame, my honour, 
 
 With such a forged lie. Tell me, thou hang- 
 man, 
 
 Where did I ever see thy face ? or when 
 Murder'd thy sire or brothers ? look on me, 
 And make it good : thou dar'st not. 
 
 Uber. Yes, I will [He ^lnbinds his arms~ 
 In one short whisper ; and that told, thou 
 
 art dead. 
 
 I am Uberti : take thy sword, fight bravely; 
 We'll live or die together. 
 Mart. We are betray'd. 
 
 [Martino is struck down, the Soldiers 
 
 run off. 
 Farn. And have I leave once more, brave 
 
 prince, to ease 
 My head on thy true bosom? 
 
 Uber. I glory more 
 
 To be thy friend, than in the name of prince, 
 Or any higher title. 
 Farn. My preserver ! 
 Uber. The life you gave to me I but return ;. 
 And pardon, dearest friend, the bitter lan- 
 guage 
 Necessity made me use. 
 
 Farn. O, sir, I am 
 
 Outdone in all ; but comforted, that none 
 But you can wear the laurel. 
 
 Uber. Here's no place 
 Or time to argue this ; let us fly hence. 
 Farn. I follow. [Exeunt. 
 
 Mart, [rises.] A thousand Furies keep you 
 
 company ! 
 
 I was at the gate of [hell,] but now I feel 
 My wound'snot mortal ; I was butastonish'd ; 
 And, coming to myself, I find I am 
 Reserv'd for the gallows : there's no looking 
 
 on 
 
 The enraged duke, excuses will not serve ; 
 I must do something that may get my pardon ; 
 If not, I know the worst, a halter ends all ! 
 
 {Exit.. 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 SCENE I. The Dutchy of Mantua. A 
 part, of the Country near Octavio's Cottage. 
 
 Enter Octavio, a book in his hand. 
 Oct. 'Tis true, by proof I find it, human 
 
 reason 
 
 Views with such dim eyes what is good or ill, 
 That if the great Disposer of our being 
 Should offer to our choice all worldly bless- 
 ings, 
 We know not what to take. When I was 
 
 young, 
 
 Ambition of court-preferment fired me : 
 And, as there were no happiness beyond it, 
 I labour'd for't, and got it ; no man stood 
 
THE BASHFUL LOVER. 
 
 541 
 
 In greater favour with his prince ; I had 
 Honours and offices, wealth flow'd in to me, 
 And, for my service both in peace and war, 
 The general voice gave out I did deserve them. 
 But, O vain confidence in subordinate great- 
 ness: 
 
 When I was most secure it was not in 
 The power of fortune to remove me from 
 The flat I firmly stood on, in a moment 
 My virtues were made crimes, and popular 
 
 favour, 
 
 (To new-raised men still fatal) bred suspicion 
 That I was dangerous : which no sooner 
 
 enter'd 
 Gonzaga's breast, but straight my ruin 
 
 follow'd. 
 My offices were ta'en from me, my state 
 
 seized on : 
 -And, had I not prevented it by flight, 
 The jealousy of the duke had been removed 
 With the forfeiture of my head. 
 
 Hort. [within. .] Or shew compassion, 
 Or I will force it. 
 
 Oct. Ha ! is not poverty safe ? 
 I thought proud war, that aim'd at kingdoms' 
 
 ruins, 
 
 The sack of palaces and cities, scorn' d 
 To look on a poor cottage. 
 
 Enter Hortensio with Ascanio in his arms, 
 Gothrio following. 
 
 Goth. What would you have ? 
 The devil sleeps in my pocket ; I have no 
 
 cross 
 To drive him from it. Be you or thief or 
 
 soldier, 
 
 Or such a beggar as will not be denied, 
 My scrip, my tar-box, hook, and coat, will 
 
 prove 
 But a thin purchase ; if you turn my inside 
 
 outwards, 
 You'll find it true. 
 
 Hort. Not any food? [Searches his sctip. 
 Goth. Alas ! sir, 
 
 I am no glutton, but an under-shepherd ; 
 The very picture of famine ; judge by my 
 
 cheeks else : 
 I have my pittance by ounces, and starve 
 
 myself, 
 
 When I pay a pensioner, an ancient mouse, 
 I have, a crumb a meal. 
 
 Hort. No drop left ? [Takes his bottle. 
 Drunkard ! hast thou swill'd up all ? 
 
 Goth. How ! drunkard, sir? 
 I am a poor man, you mistake me, sir, 
 Drunkard's a title for the rich, my betters ; 
 A carling in repute : some sell their lands for't, 
 And roar, Wine's better than money. Our 
 
 poor beverages 
 
 Of buttermilk or whey allayed with water, 
 Ne'er raise our thoughts so high. Drunk, I 
 
 had never 
 The credit to be so yet. 
 
 Hort. Ascanio, 
 Look up, dear youth ; Ascanio, did thy i 
 
 sweetness 
 
 Command the greedy enemy to forbear 
 To prey upon it, and I thank my fortune 
 For suffering me to live, that in some part 
 I might return thy courtesies, and now, 
 To heighten my afflictions, must I be 
 Enforced, no pitying angel near to help us, 
 Heaven deaf to my complaints too, to behold 
 
 thee 
 
 Die in my arms for hunger? no means left i 
 To lengthen life \ little ! I will open 
 A vein, and pour viy blood, not yet corrupted j 
 With any sinful act, but pure as he is, 
 Into his famish'd mouth. 
 
 Oct. [comes forward.} Young man, forbear ' 
 Thy savage pity ; I have better means 
 To call back flying life. 
 
 [Pours a cordial into the mouth of 
 
 Ascanio. 
 
 Goth. You may believe him ; 
 It is his sucking-bottle, and confirms, 
 An old man's twice a child; his nurse's milk . 
 Was ne'er so chargeable, should you put in \ 
 
 too 
 For soap and candles : though he sell his j 
 
 flock for't, 
 The baby must have this dug : he swears j 
 
 'tis ill 
 For my complexion ; but wondrous comfort- : 
 
 able 
 For an old man, that would never die. 
 
 Oct. Hope well, sir ; 
 A temperate heat begins to thaw his numb- . 
 
 ness ; 
 The blood too by degrees takes fresh posses- \ 
 
 sion 
 On his pale cheek ; his pulse beats high : ' 
 
 stand off, 
 Give him more air, he stirs. 
 
 [Gothrio steals the bottle. 
 Goth. And have I got thee, 
 Thou bottle of immortality ! [Aside. \ 
 
 Asc. Where am I ? 
 What cruel hand hath forced back wretched '' 
 
 life? 
 Is rest in death denied me? 
 
 Goth. O sweet liquor ! [Drinks, t 
 
 Were here enough to make me drunk, I might | 
 Write myself gentleman, and never buy 
 A coat of the heralds. [Aside. \ 
 
 Oct. How now, slave ! 
 Goth. I was fainting, 
 A clownlike qualm sti/ed on me ; but I am i 
 
542 
 
 THE BASHFUL LOVER. 
 
 Rjscover'd, thanks to your bottle, and begin 
 To feel new stirrings, gallant thoughts : one 
 
 draught more 
 Will make me a perfect signior. 
 
 Oct. A tough cudgel 
 Will take this gentle itch off ; home to my 
 
 cottage, 
 See all things handsome. 
 
 Goth.. Good sir, let me have 
 The bottle along to smell to : O rare per- 
 fume ! [Exit. 
 Hort. Speak once more, dear Ascanio. 
 
 How he eyes you, 
 Then turns away his face ! look up, sweet 
 
 youth ; 
 
 The object cannot hurt you ; this good man, 
 Next heaven, is your pre '"Tver. 
 
 A sc. Would I'had ptx ish'd 
 Without relief, rather than live to break 
 His good old heart with sorrow. O my 
 
 shame ! 
 My shame, my never-dying shame ! 
 
 'Oct. I have been 
 Acquainted with this voice, and know the 
 
 face too : 
 
 'Tis she, 'tis too apparent ; O my daughter ! 
 I mourn 'd long for thy loss, but thus to find 
 
 thee, 
 Is more to be lamented. 
 
 Hort. How ! your daughter ? 
 
 Oct. My only child ; I murmur'd against 
 
 heaven 
 
 Because I had no more, but now I find 
 This one too many. Ts Alonzo glutted 
 
 [Maria weeps. 
 With thy embraces ? 
 
 Hort' At his name, a shower 
 Of tears falls from her eyes; she faints again. 
 Grave sir, o'er-rule your passion, and defer 
 The story of her fortune. On my life 
 She is a worthy one ; her innocence 
 Might be abused, but mischief's self wants 
 
 power 
 
 To make her guilty. Shew yourself a father 
 In her recovery ; then as a judge, 
 When she hath strength to speak in her own 
 
 cause, 
 You may determine of her. 
 
 Oct. I much thank you 
 For your wise counsel : you direct me, sir, 
 As one indebted more to years, and I, 
 As a pupil, will obey you : not far hence 
 I have a homely dwelling; if you please there 
 To make some short repose, your enter- 
 tainment, 
 
 Though coarse, shall relish of a gratitude, 
 And that's all I can pay you. Look up, girl, 
 Thou art in thy father's arms. 
 
 Hort. She's' weak and faint still 
 
 spare your age ! I am young and strong, 
 
 and this way 
 To serve her is a pleasure, not a burthen : 
 
 [ Takes her in his arms. 
 Pray you, lead the way. 
 
 Oct. The saints reward your goodness ! 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE II. The same. Another part of 
 
 the Country. 
 
 Enter Manfroy, and Matilda disguised. 
 Matil. No hope of safety left ? 
 Man. We are descried. 
 Matil. I thought that, cover'd in this poor 
 disguise, 
 
 1 might have pass'd unknown. 
 Man. A diamond, 
 
 Though set in horn, is still a diamond, 
 And sparkles as in purest gold. We are fol- 
 
 low'd : 
 Out of the troops that scour'd the plains, I 
 
 saw 
 Two gallant horsemen break forth, (who, by" 
 
 their 
 
 Brave furniture and habiliments for the war, 
 Seem'd to command the rest,) spurring hard 
 
 towards us. 
 See with what winged speed they climb the 
 
 hill, 
 
 Like falcons on the stretch to seize the prey ! 
 Now they dismount, and on their hands and 
 
 knees 
 O'ercome the deep ascent that guards us from 
 
 them. 
 
 Your beauty hath betray'd you ; for it can 
 No more be night when bright Apollo shines 
 In our meridian, than that be conceal'd. 
 
 Matil. It is my curse, not blessing; fatal to 
 My country, father, and myself. WTiydidyou 
 Forsake the city ? 
 
 Man. 'Twas the duke's command : 
 No time to argue that ; we must descend. 
 If undiscover'd your soft feet, unused 
 To such rough travel, can but carry you 
 Half a league hence, i know a cave which will 
 Yield us protection. 
 
 Matil. I wish I could lend you 
 Part of my speed ; for me, I can outstrip 
 Daphne or Atalanta. 
 
 Man. Some good angel 
 Defend us, and strike blind our hot pursuers! 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 Enter Alonzo and Pisano. 
 
 A Ion. She cannot be far off: how 
 
 gloriously 
 She shew'd to us in the valley ! 
 
 Pisan. In my thought, 
 Like to a blazing comet. 
 
THE BASHFUL LOVER. 
 
 543 
 
 Alon. Brighter far: 
 
 Her beams of beauty made the hill all fire ; 
 From whence removed, 'tis cover'd with 
 
 thick clouds. 
 But we lose time ; I'll take that way. 
 
 Pisan. I, this. [Exeunt severally. 
 
 SCENE III. The same. A Wood. 
 
 Enter Horlensio. 
 Hort. 'Tis a degree of comfort in my 
 
 sorrow, 
 
 I have done one good work in reconciling 
 Maria, long hid in Ascanio's habit, 
 To griev'd Octavio. What a sympathy 
 I found in their affections ! she with tears 
 Making a free confession of her weakness, 
 In yielding up her honour to Alonzo, 
 Upon his vows to marry her ; Octavio, 
 Prepared to credit her excuses, nay, 
 To extenuate her guilt ; she the delinquent, 
 And judge, as 'twere, agreeing. But to me, 
 The most forlorn of men, no beam of comfort 
 Deigns to appear ; nor can I, in my fancy, 
 Fashion a means to get it : to my country 
 I am lost for ever, and 'twere impudence 
 To think of a return ; yet this I could 
 Endure with patience, but to be divorced 
 From all my joy on earth, the happiness 
 To look upon the excellence of nature, 
 That is perfection in herself, and needs not 
 Addition or epithet, rare Matilda, 
 Would make a saint blaspheme. Here, 
 
 Galeazzo, 
 
 In this obscure abode, 'tis fit thou shouldst 
 Consume thy youth, and grow old in la- 
 menting 
 Thy star-cross'd fortune, in this shepherd's 
 
 habit ; 
 This hook thy best defence, since thou 
 
 couldst use, 
 When thou didst fight in such a princess' 
 
 cause, 
 Thy sword no better. [Lies down. 
 
 Enter Alonzo and Pisano with Matilda. 
 
 Matil. Are you men, or monsters ? 
 Whither will you drag me ? can the open ear 
 Of heaven be deaf, when an unspotted maid 
 Cries out for succour ! 
 
 Pisan. 'Tis in vain ; cast lots 
 Who shall enjoy her first. 
 
 Alon. Flames rage within me, 
 And, such a spring of nectar near to quench 
 
 them ! 
 
 My appetite shall be cloy 'd first : here I stand, 
 Thy friend, or enemy ; let rf e have prece- 
 dence, 
 
 I write a friend's name in my heart ; deny it, 
 As an enemy I defy thee. 
 
 Pisan. Friend or foe 
 In this alike I value, I disdain 
 To yield priority ; draw thy sword. 
 
 Alon. To sheath it 
 In thy ambitious heart. 
 
 Matil. O curb this fury, 
 And hear a wretched maid first speak. 
 Hort. I am marble. 
 Matil. Where shall I seek out words, or 
 
 how restrain 
 
 My enemies rage, or lovers' ? oh, the latter 
 Is far more odious : did not your lust 
 Provoke you, for that is its proper name, 
 My chastity were safe ; and yet I tremble 
 
 more 
 To think what dire effects lust may bring, 
 
 forth, 
 
 Than what, as enemies, you can inflict, 
 And less I fear it. Be friends to yourselves, 
 And enemies to me ; better I fall 
 A sacrifice to your atonement, than 
 Or one or both should perish. I am the cause 
 Of your division ; remove it, lords, 
 And concord will spring up : poison this face 
 That hath bewitch'd you, this grove cannot 
 
 want 
 Aspics or toads; creatures, though justly 
 
 call'd, 
 
 For their deformity, the scorn of nature, 
 More happy than myself with this false beauty 
 (The seed and fruit of mischief) you admire 
 
 so. 
 
 I thus embrace your knees, and yours, a 
 
 suppliant, 
 
 If tigers did not nurse you, or you suck 
 The milk of a fierce lioness, shew compassion 
 Unto yourselves in being reconciled, 
 And pity to poor me, my honour safe, 
 In taking loath'd life from me. 
 
 Pisan. What shall we do ? 
 Or end our difference in killing her, 
 Or fight it out ? 
 
 Alon. To the last gasp. I feel 
 The moist tears on my cheeks, and blush to- 
 
 find 
 A virgin's plaints can move so. 
 
 Pisan. To prevent 
 Her flight while we contend, let's bind her 
 
 fast 
 To this cypress-tree. 
 
 Alon. Agreed. 
 
 Matil. It does presage 
 My funeral rites. [They bind Matilda. 
 
 Hort. I shall turn atheist 
 If heaven see and suffer this : why did I 
 Abandon my good sword? with unarm 'd 
 
 hands 
 
 I cannot rescue her. Some angel pluck me 
 From the apostacy I am falling to. 
 
544 
 
 THE BASHFUL LOVER. 
 
 And by a miracle lend me a weapon 
 To underprop falling honour. 
 
 Pisan. She is fast : 
 Resume your arms. 
 
 A Ion. Honour, revenge, the maid too, 
 Lie at the stake. 
 
 Pisan. Which thus I draw. 
 
 [They fight, Pisa.no/aHs. 
 Alon. All's mine, 
 But bought with some blood of mine own. 
 
 Pisano, 
 
 Thou wert a noble enemy, wear that laurel 
 In death to comfort thee : for the reward, 
 i Tis mine now without rival. 
 
 [Hortensio snatches up Pisano's sword. 
 Hort. Thou art deceived ; 
 Men will grow up like to the dragon's teeth 
 
 From Cadmus' helm, sown in the field of 
 
 Mars, 
 i To guard pure chastity from lust and rape. 
 
 Libidinous monster, satyr, faun, or what 
 ; Does better speak thee, slave to appetite, 
 And sensual baseness ; if thy profane hand 
 But touch this virgin temple, thou art dead. 
 Matil. I see the aid of heaven, though 
 
 slow, is sure. 
 Alon. A rustic swain dare to retard my 
 
 pleasure ! 
 'Hort. No swain, Alonzo, but her knight 
 
 and servant 
 To whom the world should owe and pay 
 
 obedience ; 
 One that thou hast encounter'd, and shrunk 
 
 under 
 
 His arm ; that spared thy life in the late battle, 
 At the intercession of the princess' page. 
 Look on me better. 
 
 Matil. 'Tis my virtuous lover ! 
 Under his guard 'twere sin to doubt my safety. 
 Alon. I know thee, and with courage will 
 
 redeem 
 
 What fortune then took from me. 
 Hort. Rather keep 
 
 [They fight, Alonzo falls. 
 
 Thy compeer company indeath. Liebyhim, 
 
 i A prey for crows and vultures : these fair 
 
 arms, [He unbinds Matilda. 
 
 Unfit for bonds, should have been chains to 
 
 make 
 i A bridegroom happy, though a prince, and 
 
 proud 
 
 Of such captivity : whatsoe'er you are, 
 i glory in the service I have done you ; 
 But I entreat you pay your vows and prayers, 
 For preservation of your life and honour, 
 
 To the most virtuous princess, chaste Matilda. 
 \ I am her creature, and what good I do 
 
 'You truly may call hers ; what's ill, mine 
 own. 
 
 Matil. You never did do ill, my virtuous 
 
 servant ; 
 
 Nor is it in the power of poor Matilda, 
 To cancel such an obligation as, 
 With humble willingness, she must sub- 
 scribe to. 
 
 Hort. The princess ? ha ! 
 Matil. Give me a fitter name, 
 Your manumised bondwoman, but even now 
 In the possession of lust, from which 
 Your more than brave, heroic valour 
 
 bought me : 
 
 And can I then, for freedom unexpected, 
 But kneel to you, my patron ? 
 
 Hort. Kneel to me ! 
 For heaven's sake rise ; I kiss the ground 
 
 you tread on, 
 
 My eyes fix'd on the earth ; for I confess 
 I am a thing not worthy to look on you, 
 Till you have sign'd my pardon. 
 
 Matil. Do you interpret 
 The much good you have done me, an 
 
 offence? 
 
 Hort. The not performing your injunc- 
 tions to me, 
 
 Is more than capital : your allowance of 
 My love and service to you, with admission 
 To each place you made paradise with your 
 
 presence, 
 Should have enabled me to bring home 
 
 conquest ; 
 
 Then, as a sacrifice, to offer it 
 At the altar of your favour : had my love 
 Answer'd your bounty, or my hopes, an army 
 Had been as dust before me ; whereas I, 
 Like a coward, turn'd my back, and durst 
 
 not stand 
 The fury of the enemy. 
 
 Matil. Had you done 
 Nothing in the battle, this last act deserves 
 
 more 
 
 Than I, the duke my father joining with me, 
 Can ever recompense. But take your plea- 
 sure ; 
 
 Suppose you have offended in not grasping 
 Your boundless hopes, I thus seal on your lips 
 A full remission. 
 
 Hort. Let mine touch your foot, 
 Your hand's too high a favour. 
 
 Matil. Will you force me 
 To ravish a kiss from you ? [Kisses him. 
 Hort. I am entranced. 
 Matil. So much desert and bashfulness 
 
 should not march 
 In the same file. Take comfort ; when you 
 
 have brought me 
 To some place of security, you shall find 
 You have a seat here, in a heart that hath 
 Already studied and vow'd to be thankful. 
 
THE BASHFUL LOVER. 
 
 545 
 
 Hort. Heaven make me so ! oh, I am 
 
 overwhelm 'd 
 
 With an excess of joy ! Be not too prodigal, 
 Divinest lady, of your grace and bounties, 
 At once ; if you are pleased, I shall enjoy 
 
 them, 
 Not taste them, and expire. 
 
 Matil. I'll be more sparing. \Exeunt. 
 
 Enter Octavio, Gothrio, and Maria. 
 
 Oct. What noise of clashing swords, like 
 
 armour fashion' d 
 
 Upon an anvil, pierced mine ears ; the echo 
 Redoubling the loud sound through all the 
 
 vallies ? 
 
 This way the wind assures me that it came. 
 Goth. Then with your pardon, I'll take this. 
 Oct. Why, sirrah? 
 Goth. Because, sir, I will trust my heels 
 
 before 
 All winds that blow in the sky : we are 
 
 wiser far 
 Than our grandsires were, and in this I'll 
 
 prove it ; 
 
 They said, Haste to the beginning of a feast, 
 There I am with them ; but to the end of a 
 
 fray 
 
 That is apocryphal ; 'tis more canonical, 
 Not to come there at all ; after a storm 
 There are still some drops behind. 
 
 Mar. Pure fear hath made 
 The fool a philosopher. 
 Oct. See, Maria, see ! 
 
 I did not err ; here lie two brave men wel- 
 tering 
 
 In their own gore. 
 Mar. A pitiful object. 
 Goth. I am in a swoon to look on't. 
 Oct. They are stiff already. 
 Goth. But are you sure they are dead ? 
 Oct. Too sure, I fear. 
 Goth. But are they stark dead? 
 Oct. Leave prating. 
 Goth. Then I am valiant, and dare come 
 
 nearer to them. 
 
 This fellow without a sword shall be my 
 patient. [Goes to Pisano. 
 
 Oct. Whate'er they are, humanity com- 
 mands us 
 
 To do our best endeavour. Run, Maria, 
 To the neighbour spring for water ; you 
 
 will find there 
 
 A wooden dish, the beggar's plate, to bring 
 
 it. [Exit Maria. 
 
 Why dost not, dull drone, bend his body, 
 
 and feel 
 If any life remain ? 
 
 Goth. By your leave, he shall die first, 
 And then I'll be his surgeon. 
 
 Oct. Tear ope his doublet, 
 And prove if his wounds be mortal. 
 
 Goth. Fear not me, sir : 
 Here's a large wound. [Feels his pocket. .] 
 
 How it is swoln and imposthumed ! 
 This must be cunningly drawn out ; should 
 it break, [Pulls out his purse. 
 
 'Tvvould strangle him. What a deal of foul 
 
 matter's here ! 
 This hath been long a gathering. Here's a 
 
 gash too 
 On the rim of his belly, [Feels his side 
 
 pocket.'] it may have matter in it. 
 He was a choleric man, sure ; what comes 
 from him [Takes out his money. 
 
 Is yellow as gold : how ! troubled with the 
 stone too ? 
 
 [Seeing a diamond ring on his finger, 
 I'll cut you for this. 
 
 Pisan. Oh, oh ! [Starts up. 
 
 Goth. He roars before I touch him. 
 Pisan. Robb'd of my life ? 
 Goth. No, sir, nor of your money, 
 Nor jewel ; I keep them for you: ifl had been 
 A perfect mountebank, he had not lived 
 To call for his fees again. 
 
 Oct. Give me leave there's hope 
 Of his recovery. 
 
 [Quits Pisano and goes to Alonza. 
 Goth. I had rather bury him quick, 
 Than part with my purchase ; let his ghost 
 walk, I care not. 
 
 Re-enter Maria with a dish of water. 
 
 Oct. Well done, Maria ; lend thy helping- 
 hand. 
 
 He hath a deep wound in his head, wash off 
 The clotted blood : he comes to himself. 
 
 A Ion. My lust ! 
 
 The fruit that grows upon the tree of lust T 
 With horror now I taste it. 
 
 Oct. Do you not know him ? 
 
 Mar. Too soon. Alonzo ! oh me ! though 
 
 disloyal, 
 Still dear to thy Maria. 
 
 Goth. So they know not 
 My patient, all's cocksure ; I do not like 
 The Romanish restitution. [Aside^ 
 
 Oct. Rise, and leave him. 
 Applaud heaven's justice. 
 
 Mar. 'Twill become me better, 
 To implore its saving mercy. 
 
 Oct. Hast thou no gall ? 
 No feeling of thy wrongs? 
 
 Mar. Turtles have none ; 
 Nor can there be such poison in her breast 
 That truly loves, and lawfully. 
 
 Oct. True, if that love 
 Be placed on a worthy subject. What he is. 
 
346 
 
 THE BASHFUL LOVER. 
 
 In thy disgrace is published ; heaven hath 
 
 mark'd him 
 
 For punishment, and 'twere rebellious mad- 
 ness 
 
 In thee to attempt to alter it : revenge, 
 A sovereign balm for injuries, is more proper 
 To thy robb'd honour. Join with me, and 
 
 thou 
 
 Shalt be thyself the goddess of revenge, 
 This wretch, the vassal of thy wrath : I'll 
 
 make him, 
 While yet he lives, partake those torments 
 
 which, 
 
 For perjured lovers, are prepared in hell, 
 .Before his curs'd ghost enter it. This oil, 
 Extracted and sublimed from all the simples 
 | The earth, when swoln with venom, e'er 
 
 brought forth, 
 Pour'd in his wounds, shall force such 
 
 anguish as 
 
 The Furies whips but imitate ; and when 
 Extremity of pain shall hasten death. 
 ; Here is another that shall keep in life, 
 And make him feel a perpetuity 
 Of lingering tortures. 
 
 Goth. Knock them both o" th' head, I say, 
 An it be but for their skins ; they are em- 
 
 broider'd, 
 And will sell well in the market. 
 
 Mar. Ill-look'd devil, 
 Tie up thy bloody tongue. O sir ! I was 
 
 slow 
 
 In beating down those propositions which 
 You urge for my revenge ; my reasons being 
 So many, and so forcible, that make 
 Against yours, that until I had collected 
 My scattered powers, I waver 'd in my choice 
 Which I should first deliver. Fate hath 
 
 brought 
 
 My enemy (I can faintly call him so) 
 Prostrate before my feet ; shall I abuse 
 Tke bounty of my fate, by trampling on him? 
 He alone ruin'd me, nor can any hand 
 But his rebuild my late demolish'd honour. 
 If you deny me means of reparation, 
 To satisfy your spleen, you are more cruel 
 ' Than ever yet Alonzo was ; you stamp 
 The name of strumpet on my forehead, which 
 Heaven's mercy would take off ; you fan the 
 
 fire, 
 
 E'en ready to go out ; forgetting that 
 'Tis truly noble, having power to punish, 
 .Nay, kinglike, to forbear it. I would pur- 
 chase 
 "My husband by such benefits as should make 
 
 him 
 
 Confess himself my equal, and disclaim 
 Superiority. 
 
 Oct. My blessing on thue ! 
 
 \\'hat I urged was a trial ; and my grant 
 To thy desires shall now appear, if art 
 Or long experience can do him sen-ice. 
 Nor shall my charity to this be wanting, 
 Howe'er unknown: help me, Maria: you, sir, 
 Do your best to raise him. So ! 
 
 Goth. He's wondrous heavy ; 
 But the porter's paid, there's the comfort. 
 
 Oct. Tis but a trance, 
 And 'twill forsake both. 
 
 Afar. If he live, I fear not 
 He will redeem all, and in thankfulness 
 Confirm he owes you for a second life, 
 And pay the debt, in making me his wife. 
 [Exeunt Oclavio and Maria -with Alonzo, 
 and Gothrio with Pisano. 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 SCENE I. Lorenzo's Camp under the 
 
 Walls of Mantua. 
 Enter Lorenzo and Captains. 
 Lor. Mantua is ours ; place a strong 
 
 garrison in it, 
 
 To keep it so ; and as a due reward 
 To your brave service, be ourgovernour in it. 
 
 1 Capt. I humbly thank your excellence. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Lor. Gonzaga 
 
 Is yet out of our gripe ; but his strong fort, 
 St. Leo, which he holds impregnable 
 By the aids of art, as nature, shall not long 
 Retard our absolute conquest. The escape 
 Of fair Matilda, my supposed mistress, 
 (For whose desired possession 'twas given out 
 I made this war,) I value not j alas ! 
 Cupid's too feeble-eyed to hit my heart, 
 Or could he see, his arrows are too blunt 
 To pierce it ; his imagined torch is quench 'd 
 With a more glorious fire of my ambition 
 To enlarge my empire : soft and silken 
 
 amours, 
 With carpet courtship, which weak princes 
 
 style 
 
 The happy issue of a flourishing peace, 
 My toughness scorns. Were there an abstract 
 
 made 
 
 Of all the eminent and canonized beauties 
 By truth recorded, or by poets feign'd, 
 I could unmoved behold it ; as a picture, 
 Commend the workmanship, and think no 
 
 more on't ; 
 I have more noble ends. Have you not 
 
 heard yet 
 Of Alonzo, or Pisano? 
 
 2 Capt. My lord, of neither. 
 
 Lor. Two turbulent spirits unfit for dis- 
 cipline, 
 
THE BASHFUL LOVER. 
 
 547 
 
 Much less command in war ; if they were lost, 
 I should not pine with mourning. 
 
 Enter Martino and Soldiers with Matilda 
 and Hortensio. 
 
 Mart. Bring them forward : 
 This will make my peace, though I had kill'd 
 
 his father ; 
 Besides the reward that follows. 
 
 Lor. Ha, Martino ! 
 Where is Farneze's head ? dost thou stare ! 
 
 and where 
 The soldier that desired the torture of him ? 
 
 Mart. An't please your excellence 
 
 Lor. It doth not please us ; 
 Are our commands obey'd ? 
 
 Mart. Farneze's head, sir, 
 Is a thing not worth your thought, the sol- 
 dier's less, sir : 
 
 I have brought your highness such a head ! 
 a head 
 
 So well set on too ! a fine head 
 
 Lor. Take that, [Strikes him. 
 
 For thy impertinence : what head, you rascal ? 
 
 Mart. My lord, if they that bring such 
 
 presents to you 
 
 Are thus rewarded, there are few will strive 
 To be near your grace's pleasures : but I know 
 You will repent yourcholer. Here's the head : 
 And now I draw the curtain, it hath a face 
 too, 
 
 And such a face 
 
 Lor. Ha! 
 
 Mart. View her all o'er, my lord, 
 My company on't, she's sound of wind and 
 
 limb, 
 
 And will do her labour tightly, a bona roba : 
 And for her face, as I said, there are five 
 
 hundred 
 City-dubb'd madams in the dukedom, that 
 
 would part with 
 Their jointures to have such another : hold 
 
 up your head, maid. 
 Lor. Of what age is the day ? 
 Mart. Sir, since sunrising 
 About two hours. 
 
 Lor. Thou liest ; the sun of beauty, 
 In modest blushes on her cheeks, but now 
 Appear'd to me, and in her tears breaks forth, 
 As through a shower in April ; every drop 
 An orient pearl, which, as it falls, congeal'd, 
 Were ear-rings for the Catholic king, [to be] 
 Worn on his birthday. 
 Mart. Here's a sudden change ! 
 Lor. Incensed Cupid, whom even now I 
 
 scorn'd, 
 
 Hath ta'en his stand, and by reflection shines 
 (As if he had two bodies, or indeed 
 
 A brother-twin whom sight cannot dis- 
 tinguish) 
 In her fair eyes : see, how they head their 
 
 arrows 
 With her bright beams ! now frown, as if my 
 
 heart, 
 
 Rebellious to their edicts, were unworthy, 
 Should I rip up my bosom, to receive 
 A wound from such divine artillery ! 
 
 Mart. I am made for ever. \_Aside. 
 
 Matil. We are lost, dear servant. 
 Hort. Virtue's but a word ; 
 Fortune rules all. 
 Matil. We are her tennis-balls. 
 Lor. Allow her fair, her symmetry and ! 
 
 features 
 
 So well proportion'd, as the heavenly object 
 With admiration would strike Ovid dumb, 
 Nay, force him to forget his faculty 
 In verse, and celebrate her praise in prose. 
 What's this to me ? I that have pass'd my > 
 
 youth 
 
 Unscorch'd with svanton fires, mysole delight : 
 In glittering arms, my conquering sword my 
 
 mistress, 
 Neighing of barbed horse, the cries and 
 
 groans 
 
 Of vanquish'd foes suing for life, my music : 
 And shall I, in the autumn of my age, 
 Now, when I wear the livery of time 
 Upon my head and beard, suffer myself 
 To be transform'd, and like a puling lover, 
 With arms thus folded up, echo Ah me'sf 
 And write myself a bondman to my vassal ? 
 It must not, nay, it shall not be : remove 
 The object, and the effect dies. Nearer, 
 
 Martino. 
 Mart. I shall have a regiment : colonel 
 
 Martino, 
 I cannot go less. 
 Lor. What thing is this thou hast brought 
 
 me? 
 Mart. What thing? heaven bless me ! are 
 
 you a Florentine, 
 Nay, the great duke of Florentines, and 
 
 having had her 
 So long in your power, do you now ask what 
 
 she is? 
 Take her aside and learn : I have brought 
 
 you that 
 I look to be dearly paid for. 
 
 Lor. I am a soldier, 
 And use of women will, Martino, rob 
 My nerves of strength. 
 
 Mart. All armour and no smock ? 
 Abominable ! a little of the one with the 
 
 other 
 
 Is excellent : I ne'er knew general yet, 
 Nor prince that did deserve to be a worthy, 
 
 N N 2 
 
548 
 
 THE BASHFUL LOVER. 
 
 But he desired to have his sweat wash'd off 
 By a juicy bedfellow. 
 
 Lor. But say she be unwilling 
 To do that office ? 
 
 Mart. Wrestle with her, I will wager 
 Ten to one on your grace's side. 
 
 Lor. Slave, hast thou brought me 
 Temptation in a beauty not to be 
 With prayers resisted; and, in place of 
 
 counsel 
 
 To master my affections, and to guard 
 My honour, now besieged by lust, with the 
 
 arms 
 
 Of sober temperance, mark me out a way 
 To be aravisher? Would thou hadst shewn 
 
 me 
 
 Some monster, though in a more ugly form 
 Than Nile or Afric ever bred ! The basilisk, 
 Whose envious eye yet never brook'd a neigh- 
 bour, 
 
 Kills but the body ; her more potent eye 
 Buries alive mine honour : Shall I yield thus? 
 And all brave thoughts of victory and 
 
 triumphs, 
 
 The spoils of nations, the loud applauses 
 Of happy subjects, made so by my conquests ; 
 And, what's the crown of all, a glorious name 
 Insculp'd on pyramids to posterity, 
 Be drench'd in Lethe, and no object take me 
 But a weak woman, rich in colours only, 
 Too delicate a touch, and some rare features 
 Which age or sudden sickness will take from 
 . her! 
 
 And where's then the reward of all my ser- 
 vice, 
 
 Love-soothing passions, nay, idolatry 
 I must pay to her ? Hence, and with thee 
 
 take 
 
 This second but more dangerous Pandora, 
 Whose fatal box, if open'd, will pour on me 
 All mischiefs that mankind is subject to. 
 To the desarts with this Circe, this Calypso, 
 This fair enchantress ! let her spells and 
 
 charms 
 Work upon beasts and thee, than whom wise 
 
 nature 
 
 Ne'er made a viler creature. 
 Matil. Happy exile ! 
 Hort. Some spark of hope remains yet. 
 Mart. Come, you are mine now. 
 I will remove her where your highness shall 
 
 not 
 
 Or see or hear more of her : what a sum 
 Will she yield for the Turk's seraglio ! 
 
 Lor. Stay, I feel 
 A sudden alteration. 
 
 Marl. Here are fine whimsies. 
 Lor. Why should I part with her ? can any 
 foulness 
 
 Inhabit such a clean and gorgeous palace ? 
 The fish, the fowl, the beasts, may safer 
 
 leave 
 
 The elements they were nourish'd in, and live, 
 Than I endure her absence ; yet her presence 
 Is a torment to me : why do I call it so ? 
 My sire enjoy'd a woman, I had not been. 
 
 else; 
 
 He was a complete prince, and shall I blush 
 To follow his example ? Oh ! but my choice, 
 Though she gave suffrage to it, is beneath. 
 
 me : 
 But even now, in my proud thoughts, I 
 
 scorn'd 
 
 A princess, fair Matilda ; and is't decreed 
 For punishment, I straight must dote on one, 
 What, or from whence, I know not ? Grant 
 
 she be 
 
 Obscure, without a coat or family, 
 Those I can give : and yet, if she were noble, 
 My fondness were more pardonable. Mar- 
 
 tino, 
 Dost thou know thy prisoner ? 
 
 Mart. Do I know myself? 
 I kept that for the 1'envoy ; 'tis the daughter 
 Of your enemy, duke Gonzaga. 
 
 Lor. Fair Matilda ! 
 I now call to my memory her picture, 
 And find this is thesubstance ; but her painter 
 Did her much wrong, I see it. 
 
 Mart. I am sure 
 1 tugg'd hard for her, here are wounds can 
 
 witness, 
 Before I could call her mine. 
 
 Lor. No matter how : 
 Makethineownransome, I will pay it for her. 
 Mart. I knew 'twould come at last. 
 Matil. We are lost again. 
 Hort. Variety of afflictions ! 
 Lor. That his knee, 
 
 That never yet bow'd to mortality, \Kneels. 
 Kisses the earth happy to bear your weight, 
 I know , begets your wonder ; hear the reason,. 
 And cast it off: your beauty does com- 
 mand it. 
 
 Till now, I never saw you ; fame hath been 
 Too sparing in report of your perfections, 
 Which now with admiration I gaze on. 
 Be not afraid, fair virgin ; had you been 
 Employ 'd to mediate your father's cause, 
 My drum had been unbraced, my trumpet 
 
 hung up ; 
 
 Nor had the terror of the war e'er frighted 
 His peaceful confines ; your demands had 
 
 been, 
 As soon as spoke, agreed to : but you'll 
 
 answer, 
 
 And may w'th reason, words make no satisr- 
 faction 
 
THE BASHFUL LOVER. 
 
 549 
 
 For what's in fact committed. Yet, take 
 
 comfort, 
 
 Something my pious love commands me do, 
 Which may call down your pardon. 
 
 Matil. This expression 
 Of reverence to your person better suits 
 
 [Raises Lorenzo, and kneels 
 With my low fortune. That you deign to 
 
 love me, 
 
 My weakness would persuade me to believe, 
 Though conscious of mine own unworthiness 
 You being as the liberal eye of heaven, 
 Which may shine where it pleases, let your 
 
 beams 
 Of favour warm and comfort, not consume 
 
 me! 
 For, should your love grow to excess, I dare 
 
 not 
 Deliver what I fear. 
 
 Lor. Dry your fair eyes ; 
 I apprehend your doubts, and could be angry, 
 If humble love could warrant it, you should 
 Nourish such base thoughts of me. Heaven 
 
 bear witness, 
 
 And, if I break my vow, dart thunder at me, 
 You are, and shall be, in my tent as free 
 From fear of violence, as a cloister'd nun 
 Kneeling before the altar. What I purpose 
 Is yet an embryon ; but, grown into form, 
 I'll give you power to be the sweet disposer 
 Of blessings unexpected ; that your father, 
 Your country, people, children yet unborn 
 
 too, 
 
 In holy hymns, on festivals, shall sing 
 The triumph of your beauty. On your hand 
 Once more I swear it : O imperious Love, 
 Look down, and, as I truly do repent, 
 Prosper the good ends of thy penitent ! 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE II. The Dutchy. A Room in. 
 
 Octavio's Cottage. 
 Enter Octavio, disguised as a Priest, and 
 
 Maria. 
 Oct. You must not be too sudden, my 
 
 Maria, 
 
 In being known : I am, in this friar's habit, 
 As yet conceal'd. Though his recovery 
 Be almost certain, I must work him to 
 Repentance by degrees ; when I would have 
 
 you 
 Appear in your true shape of sorrow, to 
 
 Move his compassion, I will stamp thus, 
 
 then, 
 
 You know to act your part. 
 Mar. I shall be careful. [Exit. 
 
 Oct. If I can cure the ulcers of his mind, 
 As I despair not of his body's wounds, 
 Felicity crowns my labour. Gothrio ! 
 
 Enter Gothrio. 
 
 Goth. Here, sir. 
 
 Oct. Desire my patients to leave their 
 
 chamber, 
 And take fresh air here : how have they slept 
 
 Goth. Very well, sir. 
 I would we were so rid of them. 
 
 Oct. Why? 
 
 Goth. I fear one hath 
 The art of memory, and will remember 
 His gold and jewels : could you not minister 
 A potion of forgetfulness ? What would 
 
 gallants 
 
 That are in debt give me for such a receipt, 
 To pour in their creditors' drink ? 
 
 Oct. You shall restore all, 
 Believe 't, you shall: will you please to 
 walk ? 
 
 Goth. Will you please to put off 
 Your holy habit, and spiced conscience ? one, 
 I think, infects the other. [Exit. 
 
 Oct. I have observed 
 Compunction in Alonzo ; he speaks little, 
 But full of retired thoughts : the other is 
 Jocund and merry ; no doubt, because he 
 
 hath 
 The less accompt to make here. 
 
 Enter Alonzo. 
 
 A Ion. Reverend sir, 
 I come to wait your pleasure ; but, my 
 
 friend, 
 
 Your creature I should say, being so myself, 
 Willing to take further repose, entreats 
 Your patience a few minutes. 
 
 Oct. At his pleasure ; 
 Pray you sit down ; you are faint still. 
 
 Alon. Growing to strength, 
 I thank your goodness : but my mind is 
 
 troubled, 
 
 Very much troubled, sir, and I desire, 
 Your pious habit giving me assurance 
 Of your skill and power that way, that you 
 
 would please 
 To be my mind's physician. 
 
 Oct. Sir, to that 
 
 My order binds me ; if you please to unload 
 The burthen of your conscience, I will 
 
 minister 
 
 Such heavenly cordials as I can, and set you 
 In a path that leads to comfort. 
 
 Alon. I will open 
 
 My bosom's secrets to you. That I am 
 A man of blood, being brought up in the wars, 
 And cruel executions, my profession 
 Admits not to be question'd ; but in that, 
 Being a subject, and bound to obey 
 Whate'er my prince commanded, I have left 
 
550 
 
 THE BASHFUL LOVER. 
 
 Some shadow of excuse : with other crimes, 
 As pride, lust, gluttony, it must be told, 
 I am besmear'd all over. 
 
 Oct. On repentance, 
 
 Mercy will wash it off. 
 
 A Ion. O sir, I grant 
 
 These sins are deadly ones ; yet their fre- 
 quency 
 With wicked men makes them less dreadful 
 
 to us. 
 
 But I am conscious of one crime, with which 
 All ills I have committed from my youth 
 Put in the scale, weigh nothing ; such a crime, 
 So odious to heaven and man, and to 
 My sear'd-up conscience so full of horror, 
 As penance cannot expiate. 
 
 Oct. Despair not. 
 
 Tis impious in man to prescribe limits 
 To the divine compassion : out with it. 
 Alon. Hear then, good man, and when 
 
 that I have given you 
 The character of it, and confess'd myself 
 The wretch that acted it, you must repent 
 The charity you have extended towards me. 
 Not long before these wars began, I had 
 Acquaintance ('tis not fit I style it friendship, 
 That being a virtue, and not to be blended 
 With vicious breach of faith) with the lord 
 
 Octavio, 
 
 The minion of his prince and court, set off 
 With all the pomp and circumstance of 
 
 greatness : 
 
 To this then happy man I offer'd service, 
 And with insinuation wrought myself 
 Into his knowledge, grew familiar with him, 
 Ever a welcome guest. This noble gentleman 
 Was bless'd with one fair daughter, so he 
 
 thought, 
 
 And boldly might believe so, for she was 
 In all things excellent without a rival, 
 Till I, her father's mass of wealth before 
 My greedy eyes, but hoodwink'd to mine 
 
 honour, 
 
 With far more subtile arts than perjured Paris 
 E'er practised on poor credulous Oenone, 
 Besieged her virgin fort, in a word, took it, 
 No vows or imprecation forgotten 
 With speed to marry her. 
 
 Oct. Perhaps, she gave you 
 Just cause to break those vows. 
 
 Alo?t. She cause ! alas, 
 Her innocence knew no guilt, but too much 
 
 favour 
 
 To me, unworthy of it : 'twas my baseness, 
 My foul ingratitude what shall I say more? 
 The good Octavio no sooner fell 
 In the displeasure of his prince, his state 
 Confiscated, and he forced to leave the court, 
 And she exposed to want ; but all my oaths 
 
 And protestation of service to her, 
 
 Like seeming flames raised by enchantment, 
 
 vanish'd ; 
 This, this sits heavy here. 
 
 Oct. He speaks as if 
 He were acquainted with my plot. You 
 
 have reason 
 
 To feel compunction, for 'twas most inhuman 
 So to betray a maid. 
 
 Alon. Most barbarous. 
 
 Oct. But does your sorrow for the fact beget 
 An aptness in you to make satisfaction 
 For the wrong you did her ? 
 
 Alon. Gracious heaven ! an aptness ? 
 It is my only study : since I tasted 
 Of your compassion, these eyes ne'er were 
 
 closed, 
 
 But fearful dreams cut off my little sleep ; 
 And, being awake, in my imagination 
 Her apparition haunted me. 
 
 Oct. 'Twas mere fancy. [He stamps. 
 
 Alon. 'Twas more, grave sir nay, 'tis 
 
 now it appears ! 
 
 Enter Maria, in white. 
 
 Oct. Where? 
 
 Alon. Do you not see there the gliding 
 
 shadow 
 
 Of a fair virgin ? that is she, and wears 
 The very garments that adorn'd her, when 
 She yielded to my crocodile tears : a cloud 
 Of fears and diffidence then so chased away 
 Her purer white and red, as it foretold 
 That I should be disloyal. Blessed shadow ! 
 For 'twere a sin, far, far exceeding all 
 I have committed, to hope only that 
 Thou art a substance ; look on my true sorrow, 
 Nay, soul's contrition : hear again those vows 
 My perjury cancell'd, stamp'd in brass, and 
 
 never 
 To be worn out. 
 
 Mar. I can endure no more ; 
 Action, not oaths, must make me reparation : 
 I am Maria. 
 
 Alon. Can this be? 
 
 Oct. It is, 
 And I Octavio. 
 
 Alon. Wonder on wonder ! 
 How shall I look on you, or with what fore- 
 head 
 Desire your pardon ? 
 
 Mar. You truly shall deserve it 
 In being constant. 
 
 Re-enter Gothrio, with the purses ofAlonzo 
 and Pisano. 
 
 Oct. If you fall not off, 
 But look on her in poverty with those eyes 
 As, when she was my heir in expectation, 
 You thought her beautiful. 
 
THE BASHFUL LOVER. 
 
 A Ion. She is in herself 
 Both Indies to me. 
 
 Goth. Stay, she shall not come 
 A beggar to you, my sweet young mistress ! 
 
 no, 
 She shall not want a dower : here's white and 
 
 red 
 Will ask a jointure ; but how you should 
 
 make her one, 
 
 Being a captain, would beget some doubt, 
 If you should deal with a lawyer. 
 A Ion. I have seen this purse. 
 Goth. How the world's given I dare not 
 
 say, to lying, 
 Because you are a soldier ; you may say as 
 
 well, 
 
 This gold is mark'd too : you, being to re- 
 ceive it, 
 Should ne'er ask how I got it. I'll run for a 
 
 priest 
 To dispatch the matter ; you shall not want 
 
 a ring, 
 
 I have one for the purpose. [Gives Pisano's 
 ring to Alonzo.] Now, sir, I think I'm 
 honest. [Exit. 
 
 Alon. This ring was Pisano's. 
 Oct. I'll dissolve this riddle 
 At better leisure : the wound given to my 
 
 daughter, 
 Which, in your honour, you are bound to 
 
 cure, 
 
 Exacts our present care. 
 Alon. I am all yours, sir. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE III. The same. The Castle of 
 St. Leo. 
 
 Enter Gonzaga, Uberti, and Manfroy. 
 
 Gon. Thou hast told too much to give 
 
 assurance that 
 
 Her honour was too far engaged, to be 
 By human help redeem 'd : if thou hadst 
 
 given 
 
 Thy sad narration this full period, 
 She's dead, I had been happy. 
 
 Uber. Sir, these tears 
 Do well become a father, and my eyes 
 Would keep you company as a forlorn lover, 
 But that the burning fire of my revenge 
 Dries up those drops of sorrow. We once 
 
 more, 
 
 Our broken forces rallied up, and with 
 Full numbers strengthen'd, stand prepared 
 
 t'endure 
 
 A second trial ; nor let it dismay us 
 That we are once again to affront the fury 
 Of a victorious army ; their abuse 
 Of conquest hath disarm 'd them, and call'd 
 
 down 
 
 The Powers above to aid us. I have read 
 Some piece of story, yet ne'er found but that. 
 The general, that gave way to cruelty, 
 The profanation of things sacred, rapes 
 Of virgins, butchery of infants, and 
 The massacre in cold blood of reverend age, 
 Against the discipline and law of arms, 
 Did feel the hand of heaven lie heavy on him, 
 When most secure. We have had a late 
 
 example, 
 
 And let us not despair but that, in Lorenzo, 
 It will be seconded. 
 
 Gon. You argue well, 
 And 'twere a sin in me to contradict you : 
 Yet we must not neglect the means that's 
 
 lent us, 
 To be the ministers of justice. x 
 
 Uber. Xo, sir : 
 
 One day given to refresh our wearied troops, 
 Tired with a tedious march, we'll be no 
 
 longer 
 Coop'd up, but charge the enemy in his 
 
 trenches, 
 And force him to a battle. [Shouts within. 
 
 Gon. Ha ! how's this ? 
 
 In such a general time of mourning, shouts,. 
 And acclamations of joy ? 
 
 [Cry within, Long live the princess ! 
 
 long live Matilda ! 
 Uber. Matilda! 
 The princess' name, Matilda, oft re-echoed ! 
 
 Enter Farneze. 
 
 Gon. What speaks thy haste? 
 
 Farn. More joy and happiness 
 Than weak words can deliver, or strong faith 
 Almost give credit to : the princess lives ; 
 I saw her, kiss'd her hand. 
 
 Gon. By whom deliver'd ? 
 
 Farn. This is not to be staled by my 
 
 report, 
 
 This only must be told : As I rode forth 
 With some choice troops, to make discovery 
 Where the enemy lay, and how intrench'd, 
 
 a leader 
 
 Of the adverse party, but unarm'd, and in 
 His hand an olive branch, encounter'd me : 
 He shew'd the great duke's seal, that gave 
 
 him power 
 
 To parley with me ; his desires were, that 
 Assurance for his safety might be granted 
 To his royal master, who came as a friend,. 
 And not as an enemy, to offer to you 
 Conditions of peace. I yielded to it. 
 This being return'd, the duke's prostorium 
 
 open'd, 
 
 When suddenly, in a triumphant chariot 
 Drawn by such soldiers of his own as were, 
 For insolence after victory, condemn'd 
 
SS2 
 
 THE BASHFOL LOVER. 
 
 Unto this slavish office, the fair princess 
 Appear'd, a wreath of laurel on her head, 
 Her robes majestical, their richness far 
 Above all value, as the present age 
 Contended that a woman's pomp should dim 
 The glittering triumphs of the Roman 
 
 Caesars. \_Music without. 
 
 I am cut off; no cannon's throat now 
 
 thunders, 
 Nor fife nor drum beat up a charge ; choice 
 
 music 
 
 Ushers the parent of security, 
 Long-absent peace. 
 
 Man. I know not what to think on't. 
 Uber. May it poise the expectation ! 
 
 Loud music. Enter Soldiers unarmed, tear- 
 ing olive branches, Captains, Lorenzo, 
 Matilda crowned with a wreath of laurel, 
 and seated in a chariot drawn by Soldiers; 
 followed by Hortensio and Martino. 
 
 Gon. Thus to meet you, 
 Great duke of Tuscany, throws amazement 
 
 on me ; 
 But to behold my daughter, long since 
 
 mourn'd for, 
 And lost even to my hopes, thus honour'd 
 
 by you, 
 
 With an excess of comfort overwhelms me : 
 And yet I cannot truly call myself 
 Happy in this solemnity, till your highness 
 Vouchsafe to make me understand the motive 
 That, in this peaceful way, hath brought 
 
 you to us. 
 Lor. I must crave license first ; for know, 
 
 Gonzaga, 
 
 I am subject to another's will, and can 
 Nor speak nor do without permission from 
 
 her, 
 
 My curled forehead, of late terrible 
 To those that did acknowledge me their lord, 
 Is now as smooth as rivers when no wind stirs ; 
 My frowns or smiles, that kill'd or saved, 
 
 have lost 
 Their potent awe, and sweetness : I am 
 
 transform'd 
 
 (But do not scorn the metamorphosis) 
 From that fierce thing men held me ; I am 
 
 captived, 
 
 And, by the unresistible force of beauty, 
 Led hither as a prisoner. Is't your pleasure 
 
 that 
 
 I shall deliver those injunctions which 
 Your absolute command imposed upon me, 
 Or deign yourself to speak them? 
 
 Matil. Sir, I am 
 Your property, you may use me as you 
 
 please ; 
 
 But what is in your power and breast to do, 
 No orator can dilate so well. 
 
 Lor. I obey you. 
 That I came hither as an enemy, 
 With hostile arms, to the utter ruin of 
 Your country, what I have done makes ap- 
 parent ; 
 
 That fortune seconded my will, the late 
 Defeature will make good : that I resolved 
 To force the sceptre from your hand, and 
 
 make 
 
 Your dukedom tributary, my surprisal 
 Of Mantua, your metropolis, can well wit- 
 ness ; 
 
 ! And that I cannot fear the change of fate, 
 ! My army flesh'd in blood, spoil, glory, con- 
 quest, 
 
 I Stand ready to maintain : yet, I must tell you 
 I By whom I am subdued, and what's the 
 
 ransome 
 | I am commanded to lay down. 
 
 Gon. My lord, 
 
 ! You humble yourself too much ; it is fitter 
 j You should propose, and we consent. 
 
 Lor. Forbear, 
 
 The articles are here subscribed and sign'd 
 By my obedient hand : all prisoners, 
 Without a ransome, set at liberty ; 
 Mantua to be deliver'd up, the rampires 
 Ruin'd in the assault, to be repair'd ; 
 The loss the husbandman received, his crop 
 i Burnt up by wanton license of the soldier, 
 I To be made good ; with whatsoever else 
 You could impose on me, if you had been 
 j The conqueror, I your captive. 
 
 Gon. Such a change 
 
 Wants an example : I must owe this favour 
 To the clemency of the old heroic valour, 
 That spared when it had power to kill ; a 
 
 virtue 
 
 Buried long since, but raised out of the grave 
 ! By you, to grace this latter age. 
 
 Lor. Mistake not 
 
 The cause that did produce this.good effect, 
 If as such you receive it : 'twas her beauty, 
 Wrought first on my rough nature ; but the 
 
 virtues 
 
 Of her fair soul, dilated in her converse, 
 That did confirm it. 
 
 Matil. Mighty sir, no more : 
 You honour her too much, that is not worthy 
 To be your servant. 
 
 Lor. I have done, and now 
 Would gladly understand that you allow of 
 The articles propounded. 
 
 Gon. Do not wrong 
 
 Your benefits with such a doubt ; they are 
 So great and high, and with such reverence 
 To be received, that, if I should profess 
 
THE BASI 
 
 I hold my dukedom from you, as your vassal, 
 Or offer'd up my daughter as you please 
 To be disposed of, in the point of honour, 
 And a becoming gratitude, 'twouldnot cancel 
 The bond I stand engaged for : but accept 
 Of that which I can pay, my all is yours, sir; 
 Nor is there any here, (though I must grant 
 Some have deserved much from me, ) for so far 
 I dare presume, but will surrender up 
 Their interest to that your highness shall 
 Deign to pretend a title. 
 Ubcr. I subscribe not 
 To this condition. 
 
 Farn. The services 
 This prince hath done your grace in your 
 
 most danger, 
 Are not to be so slighted. 
 Hort. 'Tis far from me 
 To urge my merits, yet, I must maintain, 
 Howe'er my power is less, my love is more ; 
 Nor will the gracious princess scorn to ac- 
 knowledge 
 I have been her humble servant. 
 
 Lor. Smooth your brows, 
 I'll not encroach upon your right, for that 
 
 were 
 
 Once more to force affection, (a crime 
 With which should I the second time be 
 
 tainted, 
 
 I did deserve no favour, ) neither will I 
 Make use of what is ofter'd by the duke, 
 Howe'er I thank his goodness. I'll lay by 
 My power, and though I should not brook 
 
 a rival, 
 
 (What we are, well consider'd,) I'll descend 
 To be a third competitor ; he that can 
 With love and service best deserve the gar- 
 land, 
 
 With your consent let him wear it ; I de- 
 spair not 
 
 The trial of my fortune. 
 Gon. Bravely offer'd, 
 And like yourself, great prince. 
 
 Uber. I must profess 
 I am so taken with it, that I know not 
 Which way to express my service. 
 
 Hort. Did I not build 
 Upon the princess' grace, I could sit down, 
 And hold it no dishonour. 
 
 Matil. How I feel 
 
 My soul divided ! all have deserved so well, 
 I know not where to fix my choice. 
 
 Gon. You have 
 
 Time to consider : will you please to take 
 Possession of the fort? then, having tasted 
 The fruits of peace, you may at leisure prove, 
 Whose plea will prosper in the court of Love. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 SCENE I. Mantua. A Room in the 
 
 Palace. 
 
 Enter Alonzo, Octavio, Pisano, Maria, and 
 Gothrio. 
 
 A Ion. You need not doubt, sir, were not 
 
 peace proclaim'd 
 
 And celebrated with a general joy, 
 The high displeasure of the Mantuan duke, 
 Raised on just grounds, not jealous suppo- 
 sitions, 
 
 Thesavingof our lives (which, next toheaven, 
 To you alone is proper) would force mercy 
 For an offence, though capital. 
 
 Pisan. When the conqueror 
 Uses entreaties, they are arm'd commands 
 The vanquish'd must not check at. 
 
 Mar. My piety pay the forfeit, 
 If danger come but near you ! I have heard 
 My gracious mistress often mention you, 
 When I served her as a page, and feelingly 
 Relate how much the duke her sire repented 
 His hasty doom of banishment, in his rage 
 Pronounced against you. 
 
 Oct. In a private difference, 
 I grant that innocence is a wall of brass, 
 And scorns the hottest battery ; but, when 
 The cause depends between the prince and 
 
 subject, 
 
 'Tis an unequal competition ; Justice 
 Must lay her balance by, and use her sword 
 For his ends that protects it. I was banish'd, 
 And, till revoked from exile, to tread on 
 Mysovereign's territories with forbidden feet, 
 The severe letter of the law calls death ; 
 Which I am subject to, in coming so near 
 His court and person. But my only child 
 Being provided for, her honour salved too, 
 I thank your noble change, I shall endure 
 Whate'er can fall, with patience. 
 
 A Ion. You have used 
 That medicine too long ; prepare yourself 
 For honour in your age, and rest secure oft. 
 
 Mar. Of what is your wisdom musing ? 
 
 Goth. I am gazing on 
 This gorgeous house ; our cote's a dishclout 
 
 to it; 
 It has no sign, what do you call't? 
 
 Mar. The court ; 
 I have lived in't a page. 
 
 Goth. Page ! very pretty : 
 May I not be a page ? I am old enough, 
 Well-timber 'd too, and I've a beard to 
 
 carry it : 
 Pray you, Jet me be your page ; I can swear 
 
 already, 
 Upon your pantofle. 
 
554 
 
 THE BASHFUL LOVER. 
 
 Mar. What? 
 
 Goth. That I'll be true 
 Unto your smock. 
 
 Mar. How, rascal ! 
 
 Oct. Hence, and pimp 
 To your rams and ewes ; such foul pollution is 
 To be whipt from court ; I have now no more 
 
 use of you ; 
 Return to your trough. 
 
 Goth. Must I feed on husks, 
 Before I have play'd the prodigal? 
 
 Oct. No, I'll reward 
 Your service ; live in your own element, 
 Like an honest man ; all that is mine in the 
 
 cottage, 
 I freely give you. 
 
 Goth. Your bottles too, that I cam' 
 For your own tooth ! 
 
 Oct. Full as they are. 
 
 Mar. And gold, [Gives him her purse. 
 That will replenish them. 
 
 Goth. I am made for ever. 
 This was done i'the nick. 
 
 Oct. Why in the nick? 
 
 Goth. O sir ! 
 'Twas well for me that you did reward my 
 
 service 
 
 Before you enter'd the court ; for 'tis reported 
 There is a drink of forgetfulness, which once 
 
 tasted, 
 Few masters think of their servants, who, 
 
 grown old, 
 Are turn'd off, like lame hounds and hunting 
 
 horses, 
 To starve on the commons. [Exit. 
 
 A Ion. Bitter knave ! 
 
 Enter Martino. 
 
 There's craft 
 In the clouted shoe. Captain ! 
 
 Mart. I am glad to kiss 
 Your valiant hand, and yours ; but pray you, 
 
 take notice, 
 My title's changed, I am a colonel. 
 
 Pisan. A colonel ! where's your regiment? 
 
 Mart. Not raised yet ; 
 All the old ones are cashier'd, and we are now 
 To have a new militia : all is peace here, 
 Yet I hold my title still, as many do 
 That never saw an enemy. 
 
 A Ion. You are pleasant, 
 And it becomes you. Is the duke stirring ? 
 
 M^rt. Long since, 
 Four hours at least, but yet not ready. 
 
 Pisan. How ! 
 
 Mart. Even so ; you make a wonder oft, 
 
 but leave it : 
 
 Alas, he is not now, sir, in the camp, 
 To be up and arm'd upon the least alarum 
 
 There's something else to be thought on : 
 
 here he comes, 
 With his officers, new-rigg'd. 
 
 Enter Lorenzo, as from his chamber, with a 
 looking-glass; Doctor, Gentleman, and 
 Page employed about his person. 
 
 A Ion. A looking-glass ! 
 Jpon my head, he saw not his own face 
 These seven years past, but by reflection 
 From a bright armour. 
 
 Mart. Be silent, and observe. 
 
 Lor. So, have you done yet ? 
 Is your building perfect ? 
 
 Doct. If your highness please, 
 Here is a water. 
 
 Lor. To what use ? my barber 
 Hath wash'd my face already. 
 
 Doct. But this water 
 
 Hath a strange virtue in't, beyond his art ; 
 [t is a sacred relic, part of that 
 Most powerful juice, with which Medea made 
 Old JEson young. 
 
 Lor. A fable ! but suppose 
 I should give credit to it, will it work 
 The same effect on me ? 
 
 Doct. I'll undertake 
 This will restore the honour'd hair that grows 
 Upon your highness' head and chin, a little 
 Inclining unto gray. 
 
 Lor. Inclining ! doctor. 
 
 Doct. Pardon me, mighty sir, I went too 
 
 far, 
 
 Not gray at all ; I dare not flatter you 
 Tis something changed ; but this applied will 
 
 help it 
 
 To the first amber-colour, every hair 
 As fresh as when, your manhood in the prime, 
 Your grace arrived at thirty. 
 
 Lor. Very well. 
 
 Doct. Then here's a precious oil, to which 
 
 the maker 
 
 Hath not yet given a name, will soon fill up 
 These dimples in your face and front. I 
 
 grant 
 
 They are terrible to your enemies, and set off 
 Your frowns with majesty ; but you may 
 
 please 
 
 To know, as sure you do, a smooth aspect, 
 Softness and sweetness, in the court of Love, 
 Though dumb, are the prevailing orators. 
 
 Lor. Will he new-create me ? 
 
 Doct. If you deign to taste too, 
 Of this confection. 
 
 Lor. I am in health, and need 
 No physic. 
 
 Doct. Physic, sir ! An empress, 
 If that an empress' lungs, sir, may be tainted 
 With putrefaction, would taste of it, 
 
THE BASHFUL LOVER. 
 
 555 
 
 That night on which she were to print a kiss 
 Jpon the lips of her long-absent lord, 
 Returning home with conquest. 
 
 Lor. 'Tis predominant 
 Dver a stinking breath, is it not, doctor ? 
 Doct. Clothe the infirmity with sweeter 
 
 language : 
 
 Tis a preservative that way. 
 Lor. You are, then, 
 Admitted to the cabinets of great ladies, 
 .nd have the government of the borrow'd 
 
 beauties 
 Df such as write near forty. 
 
 Doct. True, my good lord, 
 \nd my attempts have prosper 'A, 
 
 Lor. Did you never 
 Minister to the princess ? 
 
 Doct. Sir, not yet ; 
 she's in the April of her youth, and needs 
 
 not 
 
 ]"he aids of art, my gracious lord ; but in 
 ?he autumn of her age I may be useful, 
 \.nd sworn her highness' doctor, and your 
 
 grace 
 
 3 artake of the delight. 
 Lor. Slave ! witch ! impostor ! 
 
 {Strikes him down. 
 Mountebank ! cheater ! traitor to great 
 
 nature, 
 
 n thy presumption to repair what she, 
 n her immutable decrees, design'd 
 "or some few years to grow up, and then 
 
 wither ! 
 
 Dr is't not crime enough thus to betray 
 The secrets of the weaker sex, thy patients, 
 But thou must make the honour of this age, 
 And envy of the time to come, Matilda, 
 Whose sacred name I bow to, guilty of 
 A future sin in thy ill-boding thoughts, 
 Which for a perpetuity of youth 
 And pleasure she disdains to act, such is 
 Her purity and innocence ! 
 
 {Sets his foot on the Doctor's breast. 
 Alon. Long since 
 I look'd for this 1'envoy. 
 
 Mart. Would I were well off! 
 He's dangerous in these humours. 
 Oct. Stand conceal'd. 
 Doct. O sir, have mercy ! in my thought 
 
 I never 
 Offended you. 
 
 Lor. Me ! most of all, thou monster ! 
 What a mock-man property in thy intent 
 Wouldst thou have made me ? a mere pathic 
 . to 
 
 Thy devilish art, had I given suffrage to it. 
 Are my gray hairs, the ornament of age, 
 And held a blessing by the wisest men, 
 And for such warranted by holy writ, 
 
 To be conceal'd, as if they were my shame? 
 Or plaister up these furrows in my face, 
 As if I were a painted bawd or whore ? 
 By such base means if that I could ascend 
 To the height of all my hopes, their full frui- 
 tion 
 Would not wipe off the scandal : no, thou. 
 
 wretch ! 
 
 Thy cozening water and adulterate oil 
 I thus pour in thine eyes, and tread to dust 
 Thy loath'd confection with thy trumperies : 
 Vanish for ever ! 
 
 Mart. You have your fee, as I take it, 
 Dear domine doctor ! I'll be no sharer with 
 you. \_Exit Doctor. 
 
 Lor. 1 11 court her like myself ; these rich 
 
 adornments 
 
 And jewels, worn by me, an absolute prince, 
 My order too, of which I am the sovereign, 
 Can meet no ill construction ; yet 'tis far 
 From my imagination to believe 
 She can be taken with sublimed clay, 
 The silk-worm's spoils, or rich embroideries : 
 Nor must I borrow helps from power or 
 
 greatness, 
 
 But as a loyal lover plead my cause ; 
 If I can feelingly express my ardour, 
 And make her sensible of the much I suffer 
 In hopes and fears, and she vouchsafe to 
 
 take 
 
 Compassion on me, ha! compassion? 
 The word sticks in my throat : what's here, 
 
 that tells me 
 
 I do descend too low ? rebellious spirit, 
 I conjure thee to leave me ! there is now 
 No contradiction or declining left, 
 I must and will go on. 
 
 Mart. The tempest's laid ; 
 You may present yourselves. 
 
 [Alonzo and Pisano come forward.. 
 Alon. My gracious lord. 
 Pis an. Your humble vassal. 
 Lor. Ha ! both living ? 
 Alon. Sir, 
 
 We owe our lives to this good lord, and 
 make it 
 
 Our humble suit 
 
 Lor. Plead for yourselves : we stand 
 Yet unresolved whether your knees or prayers 
 Can save the forfeiture of your own heads : 
 Though we have put our armour off, your 
 
 pardon 
 
 For leaving of the camp without our license, 
 Is not yet sign'd. At some more fit time 
 
 wait us. 
 
 {Exeunt Lorenzo, Gentleman, and Page. 
 Alon. How's this? 
 
 Mart. 'Tis well it is no worse ; I met with 
 A rougher entertainment, yet I had 
 
556 
 
 THE BASHFUL LOVER. 
 
 Good cards to shew. He's parcel mad ; 
 
 you'll find him 
 Every hour in a several mood ; this foolish 
 
 love 
 
 Is such a shuttlecock ! but all will be well, 
 When a better fit comes on him, never doubt 
 
 it. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE II. Another Room in the same. 
 
 Enter Gonzaga, Uberti, Farneze, and 
 Manfroy. 
 
 Gon. How do you find her ? 
 
 Uber. Thankful for my service, 
 And yet she gives me little hope ; my rival 
 Is too great for me. 
 
 Gon. The great duke, you mean? 
 
 Uoer. Who else? the Milanese, although 
 
 he be 
 
 A complete gentleman, I am sure despairs 
 More than myself. 
 
 Farn. A high estate, with women, 
 Takes place of all desert. 
 
 Uber. I must stand my fortune. 
 
 Enter Lorenzo and Attendants. 
 
 Man. The duke of Florence, sir. 
 
 Gon. Your highness' presence 
 Answers my wish. Your private ear: I 
 
 have used 
 
 My best persuasion, with a father's power, 
 To work my daughter to your ends ; yet she, 
 Like a small bark on a tempestuous sea, 
 Toss'd here and there by opposite winds, 
 
 resolves not 
 
 At which port to put in. This prince's merits, 
 Your grace and favour ; nor is she unmindful 
 Of the brave acts (under your pardon, sir, 
 I needs must call them so) Hortensio 
 Hath done to gain her good opinion of him ; 
 All these together tumbling in her fancy, 
 Do much distract her. I have spies upon 
 
 her, 
 
 And am assured this instant hour she gives 
 Hortensio private audience ; I will bring you 
 Where we will see and hear all. 
 
 Lor. You oblige me. 
 
 Uber. I do not like this whispering. 
 
 Gon. Fear no foul play. {Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE III. Another Room in the same. 
 Enter Hortensio, Beatrice, and two 
 
 Waiting Women. 
 
 i Worn. The princess, sir, long since ex- 
 pected you ; 
 And, would I beg a thanks, I could tell you 
 
 that 
 
 I have often moved her for you. 
 Hort. I am your servant.' 
 
 Enter Matilda. 
 
 Beat. She's come ; there are others I must 
 
 place to hear 
 The conference. {Aside, and exit. 
 
 i Worn. Is't your excellency's pleasure 
 That we attend you? 
 
 Matil. No ; wait me in the gallery. 
 
 1 Worn. Would each of us, wench, had a 
 sweetheart too 
 
 To pass away the time ! 
 
 2 Worn. There I join with you. 
 
 [Exeunt Waiting Women. 
 Matil. I fear this is the last time we shall 
 
 meet. 
 Hort. Heaven forbid ! 
 
 Re-enter above Beatrice with Lorenzo, 
 Gonzaga, Uberti, and Farneze. 
 
 Matil. O my Hortensio ! 
 In me behold the misery of greatness, 
 And that which you call beauty. Had 1 
 
 been 
 
 Of a more low condition, I might 
 Have call'd my will and faculties mine own, 
 Not seeing that which was to be beloved 
 With others' eyes : but now, ah me, most 
 
 wretched 
 
 And miserable princess, in my fortune, 
 To be too much engaged for service done me ! 
 It being impossible to make satisfaction 
 To my so many creditors ; all deserving, 
 I can keep touch with none. 
 Lor. A sad exordium. 
 Matil. You loved me long, and without 
 
 hope (alas, 
 
 I die to think on't !) Parma's prince, invited 
 With a too partial report of what 
 I was, and might be to him, left his country, 
 To fight in my defence. Your brave achieve- 
 ments 
 
 I' the war, and what you did for me, un- 
 spoken, 
 
 Because I would not force the sweetness of 
 Your modesty to a blush, are written here : 
 And, that there might be nothing wanting to 
 Sum up my numerous engagements, (never 
 In my hopes to be cancell'd.) the great duke, 
 Our mortal enemy, when my father's country 
 Lay open to his fury, and the spoil 
 Of the victorious army, and I brought 
 Into his power, hath shewn himself so noble, 
 So full of honour, temperance, and all virtues 
 That can set off a prince, that, though I 
 
 cannot 
 
 Render him that respect I would, I am bound 
 In thankfulness to admire him. 
 
 Hort. 'Tis acknowledged, 
 And on your part to be return 'd. 
 
THE BASHFUL LOVER. 
 
 557 
 
 Ma til. How can I, 
 Without the brand of foul ingratitude 
 To you, and prince Uberti ? 
 Hort. Hear me, madam, 
 And what yourservant shall with zeal deliver, 
 As a Dasdalean clew may guide you out of ,- 
 This labyrinth of distraction. He that loves 
 iis mistress truly, should prefer her honour 
 And peace of mind, above the glutting of 
 iis ravenous appetite : he should affect her, 
 But with a fit restraint, and not take from 
 
 her 
 
 To give himself : he should make it the height 
 )f his ambition, if it lie in 
 His stretch'd-out nerves to effect it, though 
 
 she fly in 
 An eminent place, to add strength to her 
 
 wings, 
 
 .nd mount her higher, though he fall himself 
 nto the bottomless abyss ; or else 
 The services he offers are not real, 
 Jut counterfeit. 
 
 Matil. What can Hortensio 
 nfer from this ? 
 
 Hort. That I stand bound in duty, 
 Though in the act I take my last farewell 
 )f comfort in this life,) to sit down willingly, 
 .nd move my suit no further. I confess, 
 Awhile you were in danger, and heaven's 
 
 mercy made me 
 ts instrument to preserve you, (which your 
 
 goodness 
 
 ^rized far above the merit,) I was bold 
 'o feed my starv'd affection with false hopes 
 might be worthy of you : for know, madam, 
 low mean soever I appear'd in Mantua, 
 had in expectation a fortune, 
 'hough not possess'd oft, that encouraged 
 
 me 
 
 Vith confidence to prefer my suit, and not 
 \> fear the prince Uberti as my rival. 
 Gon. I ever thought him more than what 
 
 he seem'd. 
 
 Lor. Pray you, forbear. 
 Hort. But when the duke of Florence 
 D ut in his plea, in my consideration 
 Veighing well what he is, as you must grant 
 
 him 
 
 \. Mars of men in arms, and, those put off, 
 'he great example for a kingly courtier 
 'o imitate ; annex to these his wealth, 
 )f such a large extent, as other monarchs 
 him the king of coin ; and, what's 
 above all, 
 lis lawful love, with all the happiness 
 'his life can fancy, from him flowing to you ; 
 true affection which I have ever borne 
 you, 
 )oes not alone command me to desist, 
 
 But, as a faithful counsellor, to advise you 
 To meet and welcome that felicity, 
 Which hastes to crown your virtues. 
 
 Lor. We must break off this parley : 
 Something I have to say. \_Exeunt above, 
 
 Matil. In tears I thank 
 Your care of my advancement ; but I dar& 
 
 not 
 
 Follow your counsel. Shall such piety 
 Pass unrewarded? such a pure affection, 
 For any ends of mine, be undervalued ? 
 Avert it, heaven ! I will be thy Matilda, 
 Or cease to be ; no other heat but what 
 Glows from thy purest flames, shall warm this- 
 
 bosom, 
 
 Nor Florence, nor all monarchs of the earth,. 
 Shall keep thee from me. 
 
 Re-enter below Lorenzo, Gonzaga, Uberti r 
 Farneze, and Manfroy. 
 
 Hort. I fear, gracious lady, 
 Our conference hath been overheard. 
 
 Matil. The better: 
 
 Your part is acted ; give me leave at distance 
 To zany it. Sir, on my knees thus prostrate 
 Before your feet 
 
 Lor. This must not be, I shall 
 Both wrong myself and you in suffering it. 
 
 Matil. I will grow here, and weeping thus 
 
 turn marble, 
 Unless you hear and grant the first petition, 
 A virgin, and a princess, ever tendered : 
 Nor does the suit concern poor me alone, 
 It hath a stronger reference to you, 
 And to your honour ; and, if you deny it, 
 Both ways you suffer. Remember, sir, you 
 
 were not 
 
 Born only for yourself, heaven's liberal hand 
 Design'd you to command a potent nation, 
 Gave you heroic valour, which you have 
 Abused, in making unjust war upon 
 A neighbour-prince, a Christian ; while the- 
 
 Turk, 
 Whose scourge and terror you should be, 
 
 securely 
 
 Wastes the Italian confines : 'tis in you 
 To force him to pull in his horned crescents,. 
 And 'tis expected from you. 
 
 Lor. I have been 
 In a dream, and now begin to wake. 
 
 Matil. And will you 
 
 Forbear to reap the harvest of such glories, 
 Now ripe, and at full growth, for the em- 
 braces 
 Of a slight woman ? or exchange your 
 
 triumphs 
 For chamber-pleasures, melt your able 
 
THE BASHFUL LOVER. 
 
 (That should with your victorious sword 
 
 make way 
 Through the armies of your enemies) in 
 
 loose 
 
 And wanton dalliance ? be yourself, great sir, 
 The thunderbolt of war, and scorn to sever 
 Two hearts long since united ; your example 
 May teach the prince Uberti to subscribe 
 To that which you allow of. 
 
 Lor. The same tongue 
 That charm 'd my sword out of my hand, 
 
 and threw 
 
 A frozen numbness on my active spirit, 
 Hath disenchanted me. Rise, fairest prin- 
 cess ! 
 
 And, that it may appear I do receive 
 Your counsel as inspired from heaven, I will 
 Obey and follow it : I am your debtor, 
 And must confess you have lent my weaken'd 
 
 reason 
 New strengths once more to hold a full 
 
 command 
 
 Over my passions. Here, to the world, 
 I freely do profess that I disclaim 
 All interest in you, and give up my title, 
 Such as it is, to you, sir ; and, as I'ar 
 As I have power* thus join your hands. 
 
 Gon. To yours 
 I add my full consent. 
 Uber. I am lost, Farneze. 
 Farn. Much nearer to the port than you 
 
 suppose : 
 
 In me our laws speak, and forbid this con- 
 tract. 
 
 Matil. Ah me, new stops ! 
 Hort. Shall we be ever cross'd thus ? 
 Farn. There is an act upon record, con- 
 
 firm'd 
 
 By your wise predecessors, that no heir 
 Of Mantua (as questionless the princess 
 Is the undoubted one) must be join'd in 
 
 marriage, 
 But where the match may strengthen the 
 
 estate 
 And safety of the dukedom. Now, this 
 
 gentleman, 
 
 However I must style him honourable, 
 And of a high desert, having no power 
 To make this good in his alliance, stands 
 Excluded by our laws ; whereas this prince, 
 Of equal merit, brings to Mantua 
 The power and principality of Parma : 
 And therefore, since the great duke hath let 
 
 fall 
 His plea, there lives no prince that justlier 
 
 can 
 
 Challenge the princess' favour. 
 Lor. Is this true, sir? 
 Gon. I cannot contradict it. 
 
 Enter Manfroy. 
 
 Man. There's an ambassador 
 From Milan, that desires a present audience ; 
 His business is of highest consequence, 
 As he affirms : I know him for a man 
 Of the best rank and quality. 
 
 Hort. From Milan ! 
 
 Gon. Admit him. 
 
 Enter Ambassador, and Julio with a letter, 
 which he presents on his knee to Hortensio. 
 
 How ! so low ? 
 
 Amb. I am sorry, sir, 
 To be the bringer of this heavy news ; 
 But since it must be known 
 
 Hort. Peace rest with him ! 
 I shall find fitter time to mourn his loss. 
 My faithful servant too ! 
 
 Jul. I am o'erjoy'd, 
 To see your highness safe. 
 
 Hort. Pray you, peruse this, 
 And there you'll find that the objection, 
 The lord Farneze made, is fully answer'd. 
 
 Gon. The great John Galeas dead ! 
 
 Lor. And this his brother, 
 The absolute lord of Milan ! 
 
 Matil. I am revived. 
 
 Uber. There's no contending against des- 
 tiny : 
 I wish both happiness. 
 
 Enter Alonzo, Maria, Octavio, Pisano, and 
 Martino. 
 
 Lor. Married, Alonzo ! 
 I will salute your lady, she's a fair one, 
 And seal your pardon on her lips. 
 
 \Kisses Maria. 
 Gon. Octavio ! 
 Welcome e'en to my heart. Rise, I should 
 
 kneel 
 To thee for mercy. 
 
 Oct. The poor remainder cf 
 My age shall truly serve you. 
 
 Matil. You resemble 
 A page I had, Ascanio. 
 
 Mar. I am 
 Your highness' servant still. 
 
 Lor. All stand amazed 
 At this unlook'd-for meeting ; but defer 
 Your several stories. Fortune here hath 
 
 shown 
 
 Her various power ; but virtue, in the end, 
 Is crown'd with laurel : Love hath done his 
 
 parts too ; 
 
 And mutual friendship, after bloody jars, 
 Will cure the wounds received in our wars. 
 \Excuiit. 
 
THE BASHFUL LOVER. 
 
 EPILOGUE. 
 
 Pray you, gentlemen, keep your seats ; something I would 
 Deliver to gain favour, if I could, 
 To us, and the still doubtful author. He, 
 When I desired an epilogue, answer d me, 
 " ' Twas to no purpose : he must stand his fate, 
 Since all entreaties now would come too late ; 
 You being long since resolved what you would say 
 Of him, or us, as you rise, or of the play." 
 A strange old fellow ! yet this sullen mood 
 Would quickly leave him, might it be understood 
 You part not hence displeased. I am design d 
 To give him certain notice : if you find 
 Things worth your liking, shew it. Hope and fear, 
 Though different passions, have the self-same ear. 
 
The Old Law. 
 
 DRAMATIS PERSONS. 
 
 Evander, du&eo/Epire. 
 Cratilus, the executioner. 
 Creon, father to Simonides. 
 
 . 
 
 Lysander, husband to Eugenia, and iincle 
 
 to Cleanthes. 
 
 Leonides, father to Cleanthes. 
 Gnotho, the clown. 
 Lawyers. 
 Courtiers. 
 Dancing-master. 
 
 Butler, 
 
 Bailiff, 
 
 Tailor, \ c , ~ 
 
 Coachman, Y Servants * Creon. 
 
 Footman, 
 
 Cook, 
 
 Clerk. 
 
 Drawer. 
 
 Antigona, wife to Creon. 
 
 Hippolita, wife to Cleanthes. 
 
 Eugenia, wife to Lysander, and mother to 
 
 Parthenia. 
 Parthenia. 
 
 Agatha, wife to Gnotho. 
 Old women, wives to Creon's servants. 
 Courtezan. 
 
 Fiddlers, Servants, Guard, &c. 
 SCENE, Epire. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 SCENE I. A Room in Creon's House. 
 Enter Simonides and two Lawyers. 
 
 Sim. Is the law firm, sir? 
 
 1 Law. The law ! what more firm, sir, 
 More powerful, forcible, or more permanent? 
 
 Sim. By my troth, sir, 
 I partly do believe it ; conceive, sir, 
 You have indirectly answered my question. 
 I did not doubt the fundamental grounds 
 Of law in general, for the most solid ; 
 But this particular law that me concerns, 
 Now, atthepresent, if that be firm and strong, 
 And powerful, and forcible, and permanent? 
 I am a young man that has an old father. 
 
 2 Law. Nothing more strong, sir. 
 
 It is Secundum statutum principis, con- 
 Jirmatum cum voce senatus, et voce reipub- 
 
 lic(E ; nay, consummatum et exemplificatiim. 
 
 Is it not in force, 
 
 When divers have already tasted it, 
 
 And paid their lives for penalty ? 
 Sim. 'Tis true. 
 
 My father must be next ; this day completes 
 
 Full fourscore years upon him. 
 2 Law. He is here, then, 
 
 Sub pcena statuti : hence I can tell him, 
 
 Truer than all the physicians in the world, 
 
 He cannot live out to-morrow ; this 
 
 Is the most certain climacterical year 
 j 
 
 Tis past all danger, for there's no escaping- 
 
 it. 
 What age is your mother, sir ! 
 
 Sim. Faith, near her days too ; 
 Wants some two of threescore, 
 i Law. So ! she'll drop away 
 One of these days too : here's a good age now, 
 For those that have old parents, and rich 
 
 inheritance ! 
 
 Sim. And, sir, 'tis profitable for others too: 
 Are there not fellows that lie bedrid in their 
 
 offices, 
 
 That younger men would walk lustily in ? 
 Churchmen, that even the second infancy 
 Hath silenced, yet have spun out their lives 
 
 so long, 
 
 That many pregnant and ingenious spirits 
 Have languish'd in their hoped reversions, 
 And died upon the thought ? and, by your 
 
 leave, sir, 
 
 Have you not places fill'd up in the law, 
 By some grave senators, that you imagine 
 Have held them long enough, and such 
 
 spirits as you, 
 Were they removed, would leap into their 
 
 dignities ? 
 i Law. Die quibus in terris, et eris mi hi 
 
 magnus Apollo. 
 
 Sim. But tell me, faith, your fair opinion: 
 Is't not a sound and necessary law, 
 This, by the duke enacted ? 
 i Law. Never did Greece, 
 
THE OLD LAW. 
 
 Our ancient seat of brave philosophers, 
 'Mongst all her nomothetce and lawgivers, 
 Not when she flourish'd in her sevenfold 
 
 sages, 
 
 Whose living memory can never die, 
 Produce a law more grave and necessary. 
 Sim. I am of that mind too. 
 2 Law. I will maintain, sir, 
 Draco's oligarchy, that the government 
 Of community reduced into few, 
 Framed a fair state ; Solon's chreokopia, 
 That cut off poor men's debts to their rich 
 
 creditors, 
 Was good and charitable, but not full, 
 
 allow'd ; 
 
 His seisactheia did reform that error, 
 His honourable senate of Areopagitse. 
 Lycurgus was more loose, and gave too free 
 And licentious reins unto his discipline ; 
 
 ! As that a young woman, in her husband's 
 
 weakness, 
 
 Might choose her able friend to propagate ; 
 That so the commonwealth might be supplied 
 With hope of lusty spirits. Plato did err, 
 And so did Aristotle, in allowing 
 Lewd and luxurious limits to their laws : 
 But now our Epire, our Epire's Evander, 
 
 i Our noble and wise prince, has hit the law 
 
 i That all our predecessive students 
 
 j Have miss'd, unto their shame. 
 
 Enter Cleanthes. 
 
 Sim. Forbear the praise, sir, 
 *Tis in itself most pleasing : Cleanthes ! 
 O, lad, here's a spring for young plants to 
 
 flourish ! 
 The old trees must down kept the sun from 
 
 us ; 
 We shall rise now, boy. 
 
 Clean. Whither, sir, I pray? 
 To the bleak air of storms, among those trees 
 Which we had shelter from ? 
 
 Sim. Yes, from our growth 
 Our sap and livelihood, and from our fruit. 
 What ! 'tis not jubilee with thee yet, I think, 
 Thou look'st so sad on't. How old is thy 
 
 father ? 
 Clean. Jubilee ! no, indeed ; 'tis a bad 
 
 year with me. 
 Sim. Prithee, how old's thy father ? then 
 
 I can tell thee. 
 Clean. I know not how to answer you, 
 
 Simonides ; 
 
 He is too old, being now exposed 
 Unto the rigour of a cruel edict ; 
 And yet not old enough by many years, 
 'Cause I'd not see him go an hour before me. 
 Sim. These very passions I speak to my 
 lather. 
 
 Come, come, here's none but friends here, 
 
 we may speak 
 
 Our insides freely ; these are lawyers, man, 
 And shall be counsellors shortly. 
 Clean. They shall be now, sir, 
 And shall have large fees if they'll under- 
 take 
 
 To help a good cause, for it wants assistance; 
 Bad ones, I know, they can insist upon, 
 i Law. Oh, sir, we must undertake of both 
 
 parts ; 
 But the good we have most good in. 
 
 Clean. Pray you, say, 
 How do you allow of this strange edict ? 
 i Law. Secundiimjustitiam ; by my faith, 
 
 sir, 
 
 The happiest edict that ever was in Epire. 
 Clean. What, to kill innocents, sir? it 
 
 cannot be, 
 It is no rule in justice there to punish. 
 
 i Law. Oh, sir, 
 
 You understand a conscience, but not law. 
 Clean. Why, sir, is there so main a dif- 
 ference ? 
 i Law. You'll never be good lawyer if you 
 
 understand not that. 
 Clean. I think, then, 'tis the best to be a 
 
 bad one. 
 
 i Law. Why, sir, the very let-ter and the 
 sense both do overthrow you in this statute, 
 which speaks, that every man living to four- 
 score years, and women to threescore, shall 
 then be cut off as fruitless to the republic, 
 and law shall finish what nature linger'd at. 
 Clean. And this suit shall soon be dis- 
 patch 'd in law ? 
 
 i Law. It is so plain it can have no demur, 
 The church-book overthrows it. 
 
 Clean. And so it does ; 
 The church-book overthrows it, if you read 
 
 it well, 
 i Law. Still you run from the law into 
 
 error : 
 
 You say it takes the lives of innocents, 
 I say no, and so says common reason ; 
 What man lives to fourscore, and woman to 
 
 three, 
 That can die innocent ? 
 
 Clean. A fine law evasion ! 
 Good sir, rehearse the whole statute to me. 
 Sim. Fie ! that's too tedious ; you have 
 
 already 
 The full sum in the brief relation. 
 
 Clean. Sir, 
 
 'Mongst many words may be found contra- 
 dictions ; 
 And these men dare sue and wrangle with a 
 
 statute, 
 
 If they can pick a quarrel with some error, 
 o o 
 
562 
 
 THE OLD LAW. 
 
 2 Law. Listen, sir, I'll gather it as brief 
 
 as I can for you : 
 
 Anno primo Evandri, Be it for thecare and 
 good of tke commonwealth, (for divers neces- 
 sary reasons that we shall urge,) thus 
 
 peremptorily enacted, 
 
 Clean. A fair pretence, if the reasons foul 
 
 it not ! 
 
 2 Law. That all men living in our 
 dominions of Epire, in their decayed nature, 
 to the age of fourscore, or women to the age 
 of threescore, shall on the same day be in- 
 stantly put to death, by those means and in- 
 struments that a former proclamation, had 
 to this purpose, through our said territories 
 . dispersed. 
 i - Clean. There was no woman in this 
 
 senate, certain. 
 
 I Law. That these men, being past their 
 ' bearing arms, to aid and defend their 
 country ; past their manhood and likelihood, 
 to propagate any further issue to their pos- 
 terity ; and as well past their councils 
 (whose overgrown gravity is now run into 
 dotage) to assist their country ; to whom, in 
 common reason, nothing should be so weari- 
 some as their own lives, as they may be sup- 
 posed tedious to their successive heirs, whose 
 times are spent in the good of their country : 
 yet wanting the means to maintain it ; and 
 are like to grow old before their inheritance 
 \ (born to them) come to their necessary use, 
 
 I be condemned to die : for the women, for that 
 they never were a defence to their country ; 
 , never by counsel admitted to assist in the 
 \ government of their country ; only necessaty 
 to the propagation of posterity, and now, at 
 the age of threescore, past that good, and all 
 their goodness : it is thought fit (a quarter 
 abated from the more worthy member) that 
 t/iey be put to death, as is before recited: 
 provided that for the just and impartial 
 exectition of this our statute, the example 
 shall first begin in and about our court, 
 which ourself will see carefully performed; 
 and not, for a full month following, extend 
 any. further into our dominions. Dated the 
 sixth of the second month, at our Palace 
 Royal in Epire. 
 
 Clean. A fine edict, and very fairly gilded! 
 And is there no scruple in all these words, 
 To demur the law upon occasion ? 
 
 Sim. Pox! 'tis an unnecessary inquisition; 
 Prithee set him not about it. 
 2 Law. Troth, none, sir : 
 It is so evident and plain a case, 
 There is no succour for the defendant. 
 Clean. Possible ! can nothing help in a 
 good case ? 
 
 i Law. Faith, sir, I do think there may 
 
 be a hole, 
 
 Which would protract ; delay, if not remedy. 
 Clean. Why, there's some comfort in that ; 
 
 good sir, speak it. 
 i Law. Nay, you must pardon me for i 
 
 that, sir. 
 
 Sim. Prithee, do not ; 
 
 It may ope a wound to many sons and heirs, ! 
 That may die after it. 
 
 Clean. Come, sir, I know 
 How to make you speak : will this do it ? i 
 [Gives him his purse. \ 
 
 1 Law. I will afford you my opinion, sir. j 
 Clean. Pray you, repeat the literal words ! 
 
 expressly, 
 The time of death. 
 
 Sim. 'Tis an unnecessary question ; i 
 prithee let it alone. 
 
 2 Law. Hear his opinion, 'twill be fruit- ! 
 less, sir. 
 
 That man, at the age of fourscore, and \ 
 woman at threescore, shall the same day be 
 i>ut to death. 
 
 i Law. Thus I help the man to twenty- 
 one years more. 
 
 Clean. That were a fair addition, 
 i Law. Mark it, sir ; we say, man is not 
 
 at age 
 Till he be one and twenty ; before, 'tis 
 
 infancy, 
 
 And adolescency ; now, by that addition, 
 Fourscore he cannot be, till a hundred and . 
 
 one. 
 
 Sim. Oh, poor evasion ! 
 He is fourscore years old, sir. 
 
 i Law. That helps more, sir ; 
 He begins to be old at fifty, so, at fourscore, 
 He's but thirty years old ; so, believe it, sir, 
 He may be twenty years in declination ; 
 And so long may a man linger and live by it. 
 Sim. The worst hope of safety that e'er I 
 
 heard ! 
 Give him his fee again, 'tis not worth two 
 
 deniers. 
 i Law. There is no law for restitution of 
 
 fees, sir. 
 
 Clean. No, no, sir ; I meant it lost when 
 it was given. 
 
 Enter Creon and Antigona. 
 
 Sim. No more, good sir, 
 Here are ears unnecessary for your doctrine. 
 
 i Law. I have spoke out my fee, and I 
 have done, sir. 
 
 Sim. O my dear father ! 
 
 Creon. Tush ! meet me not in exclaims ; j 
 I understand the worst, and hope no better. J 
 
THE OLD LAW. 
 
 56?. 
 
 A fine law ! if this hold, white heads will be 
 
 cheap, 
 
 And many watchmen's places will be vacant ; 
 Forty of them I know my seniors, 
 
 That did due deeds of darkness too : their 
 
 country 
 
 Has watch'd them a good turn for't, 
 And ta'en them napping now : 
 The fewer hospitals will serve too, many 
 May be used for stews and brothels ; and 
 
 those people 
 Will never trouble them to fourscore. 
 Ant. Can you play and sport with sorrow, 
 
 sir? 
 Creon. Sorrow! for what, Antigona? for 
 
 my life ? 
 
 My sorrow is I have kept it so long well, 
 With bringing it up unto so ill an end. 
 I might have gently lost it in my cradle, 
 Before my nerves and ligaments grew strong, 
 To bind it faster to me. 
 
 Sim. For mine own sake, 
 I should have been sorry for that. 
 
 Creon. In my youth 
 I was a soldier, no coward in my age ; 
 I never turn'd my back upon my foe ; 
 I have felt nature's winters, sicknesses, 
 Yet ever kept a lively sap in me 
 To greet the cheerful spring of health again. 
 Dangers, on horse, on foot, [by land,] by 
 
 water, 
 
 I have scaped to this day ; and yet this day, 
 Without all help of casual accidents, 
 Is only deadly to me, 'cause it numbers 
 Fourscore years to me. Where is the fault 
 
 now? 
 
 I cannot blame time, nature, nor my stars, 
 Nor aught but tyranny. Even kings them- 
 selves 
 
 Have sometimes tasted an even fate with me. 
 He that has been a soldier all his days, 
 And stood in personal opposition 
 'Gainst darts and arrows, theextremes of heat 
 And pinching cold, has treacherously at 
 
 home, 
 In's secure quiet, by a villain's hand 
 
 Been basely lost, in his star's ignorance : 
 
 And so must I die by a tyrant's sword, 
 i Law. Oh, say not so, sir, it is by the law. 
 Creon. And what's that, but the sword of 
 
 tyranny, 
 
 When it isbrandish'd against innocent lives? 
 I am now upon my deathbed, and 'tis fit 
 I should unbosom my free conscience, 
 And shew the faith I die in : I do believe 
 'Tis tyranny that takes my life. 
 
 Sim. Would it were gone 
 By one means or other ! what a long day 
 Will this be ere night ? [Aside. 
 
 Creon. Simonides. 
 Sim. Here, sir, weeping. 
 Creon. Wherefore dost thou weep ? 
 Clean. 'Cause you make no more haste to* 
 your end. [Aside. 
 
 Sim. How can you question nature so un- 
 justly? 
 
 I had a grandfather, and then had not you 
 True filial tears for him ? 
 
 Clean. Hypocrite ? 
 
 A disease of drought dry up all pity from him, 
 That can dissemble pity with wet eyes ! 
 Creon. Be good unto your mother, Si- 
 monides, 
 She must be now your care. 
 
 Ant. To what end, sir? 
 The bell of this sharp edicts tolls for me, 
 As it rings out for you. I'll be as ready, 
 With one hour's stay, to go along with you., 
 Creon. Thou must not, woman, there are 
 
 years behind, 
 
 Before thou canst set forward in this voyage ; 
 And nature, sure, will now be kind to all : 
 She has a quarrel in't, a cruel law 
 Seeks to prevent her, she will therefore fight 
 
 in't, 
 
 And draw out life even to her longest thread :, 
 Thou art scarce fifty-five. 
 
 Ant. So many morrows ! 
 Those five remaining years I'll turn to days, 
 To hours, or minutes, for your company. 
 'Tis fit that you and I, being man and wife, 
 Should walk together arm in arm. 
 
 Sim. I hope 
 They'll go together ; I would they would, 
 
 i'faith, 
 Then would her thirds be saved too. [Aside.'}. 
 
 The day goes away, sir. 
 Creon. Why wouldst thou have me gone, 
 
 Simonides ? 
 Sim. O my heart ! Would you have me 
 
 gone before you, sir, 
 You give me such a deadly wound ? 
 Clean. Fine rascal ! 
 Sim. Blemish my duty so with such a 
 
 question ? 
 
 Sir, I would haste me to the duke for mercy ; 
 He that's above the law may mitigate 
 The rigour of the law. How a good meaning 
 May be corrupted by a misconstruction ! 
 Creon. Thou corrupt'st mine ; I did not 
 
 think thou mean'st so. 
 Clean. You were in the more error. 
 
 [Aside.. 
 
 Sim. The words wounded me. 
 Clean. 'Twas pity thou died'st not on't: 
 Sim. I have been ransacking the helps of 
 
 law, 
 Conferring with these learned advocates : 
 
 002. 
 
564 
 
 THE OLD LAW. 
 
 If any scruple, cause, or wrested sense 
 Could have been found out to preserve your 
 
 life, 
 It had been bought, though with your full 
 
 estate, 
 Your life's so precious to me ! but there's 
 
 none, 
 i Law. Sir, we have canvass 'd her from 
 
 top to toe, 
 Turn'd her upside down, thrown her upon 
 
 her side, 
 
 Nay, open'd and dissected all her entrails, 
 Yet can find none : there's nothing to be 
 
 hoped, 
 But the duke's mercy. 
 
 Sim. I know the hope of that ; 
 He did not make the law for that purpose. 
 Creon. Then to this hopeless mercy last 
 
 I go; 
 
 ; I have so many precedents before me, 
 ! I must call it hopeless : Antigona, 
 See me delivered up unto my deathsman, 
 I And then we'll part ; five years hence I'll 
 
 look for thee. 
 
 Sim. I hope she will not stay so long 
 
 behind you. {Aside. 
 
 Creon. Do not bate him an hour by grief 
 
 and sorrow, 
 
 j Since there's a day prefix'd, hasten it not. 
 ; Suppose me sick, Antigona, dying now, 
 Any disease thou wilt may be my end, 
 Or when death's slow to come, say tyrants 
 send. {Exeunt Creon and Antigona. 
 Sim. Cleanthes, if you want money, to- 
 morrow use me ; 
 I'll trust you while your father's dead. 
 
 {Exit, with the Lawyers. 
 Clean. Why, here's a villain, 
 Able to corrupt a thousand by example ! 
 Does the kind root bleed out his liveli- 
 hood 
 
 In parent distribution to his branches, 
 Adorning them with all his glorious fruits, 
 Proud that his pride is seen when he's un- 
 seen ; 
 
 And must not gratitude descend again, 
 To comfort his old limbs in fruitless winter ? 
 Improvident, or at least partial nature ! 
 (Weak woman in this kind, ) who, in thy last 
 
 teeming, 
 
 Forgettest still the former, ever making 
 The burthen of thy last throes the dearest 
 
 darling ! 
 
 O yet in noble man reform [reform] it, 
 And make us better than those vegetives, 
 Whose souls die with them. Nature, as thou 
 
 art old, 
 
 If love and justice be not dead in thee, 
 Make some the pattern of thy piety ; 
 
 Lest all do turn unnaturally against thee, 
 And thou be blamed for our oblivious 
 
 Enter Leonides and Hippolita. 
 
 And brutish reluctations ! Ay, here's the 
 
 ground 
 
 Whereon my filial faculties must build 
 An edifice of honour, or of shame, 
 To all mankind. 
 
 Hip. You must avoid it, sir, 
 If there be any love within yourself : 
 This is far more than fate of a lost game 
 That another venture may restore again ; 
 It is your life, which you should not subject 
 To any cruelty, if you can preserve it. 
 Clean. O dearest woman, thou hast 
 
 doubled now 
 
 A thousand times thy nuptial dowry to me ! 
 Why, she whose love is but derived from me, 
 Is got before me in my debted duty. 
 Hip. Are you thinking such a resolution, 
 
 sir? 
 Clean. Sweetest Hippolita, what love 
 
 taught thee 
 
 To be so forward in so good a cause ? 
 Hip. Mine own pity, sir, did first instruct 
 
 me, 
 And then your love and power did both 
 
 command me. 
 Clean. They were all blessed angels to 
 
 direct thee ; 
 And take their counsel. How do you fare, 
 
 sir? 
 Leon. Cleanthes, never better ; I have 
 
 conceived 
 
 Such a new joy within this old bosom, 
 As I did never think would there have en- 
 
 ter'd. 
 Clean. Joy call you it ? alas ! 'tis sorrow, 
 
 sir, 
 
 The worst of sorrows, sorrow unto death. 
 Leon. Death! what is that, Cleanthes? I 
 
 thought not on't, 
 
 I was in contemplation of this woman : 
 'Tis all thy comfort, son ; thou hast in her 
 A treasure invaluable, keep her safe. 
 When I die, sure 'twill be a gentle death, 
 For I will die with wonder of her virtues ; 
 Nothing else shall dissolve me. 
 
 Clean. 'Twere much better, sir, 
 Could you prevent their malice. 
 
 Leon. I'll prevent them. 
 And die the way I told thee, in the wonder 
 Of this good woman. I tell thee there's 
 
 few men 
 Have such a child : I must thank thee for 
 
 her. 
 That the strong tie of wedlock should do i 
 
 more, 
 
THE OLD LAW. 
 
 565 
 
 up 
 
 Than nature in her nearest ligaments 
 Of blood and propagation ! I should never 
 Have begot such a daughter of my own : 
 A daughter-in-law ! law were above nature, 
 Were there more such children. 
 
 Clean. This admiration 
 Helps nothing to your safety ; think of that, 
 sir. 
 
 Leon. Had you heard her, Cleanthes, but 
 
 labour 
 In the search of means to save my forfeit 
 
 life, 
 
 And knew the wise and the sound preserva- 
 tions 
 
 That she found out, you would redouble all 
 My wonder, in your love to her. 
 
 Clean. The thought, 
 
 The very thought, sir, claims all that from me, 
 And she is now possest oft : but, good sir, 
 If you have aught received from her advice, 
 Let's follow it ; or else let's better think. 
 And take the surest course. 
 
 Leon. I'll tell thee one ; 
 She counsels me to fly my severe country ; 
 To turn all into treasure, and there build u 
 My decaying fortunes in a safer soil, 
 Where Epire's law cannot claim me. 
 
 Clean. And, sir, 
 I apprehend it as a safest course, 
 And may be easily accomplished ; 
 Let us be all most expeditious. 
 Every country where we breathe will be our 
 
 own, 
 
 Or better soil ; heaven is the roof of all, 
 And now, as Epire's situate by this law, 
 There is 'twixt us and heaven a dark eclipse. 
 
 Hip. Oh, then avoid it, sir ; these sad 
 
 events 
 Follow those black predictions. 
 
 Leon. I prithee peace ; 
 I do allow thy love, Hippolita, 
 But must not follow it as counsel, child ; 
 I must not shame my country for the law. 
 This country here hath bred me, brought 
 
 me up, 
 
 And shall I now refuse a grave in her ? 
 I am in my second infancy, and children 
 Ne'er sleep so sweetly in their nurse's cradle, 
 As in their natural mother's. 
 
 Hip. Ay, but, sir, 
 
 She is unnatural ; then the stepmother's 
 To be preferr'd before her. 
 
 Leon. Tush ! she shall 
 Allow it me in despite of her entrails. 
 Why, do you think how far from judgment 
 
 'tis, 
 
 That I should travel forth to seek a grave 
 That is already digg'd for me at home, 
 Nay, perhaps find it in my way to seek it ? 
 
 How have I then sought a repentant sorrow ? 
 For your dear loves, how have I banish'd you 
 From your country ever? With my base. 
 
 attempt, 
 
 How have I beggar'd you in wasting that 
 Which only for your sakes I bred together ;; 
 Buried my name in Epire which I built 
 Upon this frame, to live for ever in ? 
 What a base coward shall I be, to fly from. 
 That enemy which every minute meets me, 
 And thousand odds he had not long van- 
 
 quish'd me 
 
 Before this hour of battle ! Fly my death 1 
 I will not be so false unto your states, 
 Nor fainting to the man that's yet in me : 
 I'll meet him bravely ; I cannot (this know- 
 ing) fear 
 
 That, when I am gone hence, I shall be there, 
 Come, I have days of preparation left. 
 
 Clean. Good sir, hear me : 
 I have a genius that has prompted me, 
 
 And I have almost form'd it into words 
 
 'Tis done, pray you observe them ; I can 
 
 conceal you ; 
 And yet not leave your country. 
 
 Leon. Tush ! it cannot be, 
 Without a certain peril on us all. 
 
 Clean. Danger must be hazarded, rather 
 
 than accept 
 
 A sure destruction. You have a lodge, sir. 
 So far remote from way of passengers, 
 That seldom any mortal eye does greet with't; 
 And yet so sweetly situate with thickets, 
 Built with such cunning labyrinths within, 
 As if the provident heavens, foreseeing 
 
 cruelty, 
 Had bid you frame it to this purpose only. 
 
 Leon. Fie, fie ! 'tis dangerous, and trea- 
 son too, 
 To abuse the law. 
 
 Hip. 'Tis holy care, sir, 
 Of your dear life, which is your own to keep, 
 But not your own to lose, either in will 
 Or negligence. 
 
 Clean. Call you it treason, sir ? 
 I had been then a traitor unto you, 
 Had I forgot this ; beseech you, accept of it ; 
 It is secure, and a duty to yourself. 
 
 Leon. What a coward will you make me ! 
 
 Clean. You mistake ; 
 Tis noble courage, now you fight with 
 
 death ; 
 
 And yield not to him till you stoop under 
 him. 
 
 Leon. This must needs open to discovery, 
 And then what torture follows ? 
 
 Clean. By what means, sir? 
 Why, there is but one body in all this 
 counsel. 
 
5 66 
 
 THE OLD LAW. 
 
 Which cannot betray itself : we two are one, 
 One soul, one body, one heart, that think 
 
 one thought ; 
 And yet we two are not completely one, 
 
 But as I have derived myself from you. 
 
 Who shall betray us where there is no 
 second? 
 
 Hip. You must not mistrust my faith, 
 
 though my sex plead 
 Weakness and frailty for me. 
 
 Leon. Oh, I dare not. 
 But where's the means that must make 
 
 answer for me ? 
 
 I cannot be lost without a full account, 
 And what must pay that reckoning ? 
 
 Clean. Oh, sir, we will 
 Keep solemn obits for your funeral ; 
 We'll seem to weep, and seem to joy withal, 
 That death so gently has prevented you 
 'The law's sharp rigour ; and this no mortal 
 
 ear shall 
 Participate the knowledge of. 
 
 Leon. Ha, ha, ha ! 
 This will be a sportive fine demur, 
 If the error be not found. 
 
 Clean. Pray doubt of none. 
 Your company and best provision, 
 Must be no further furnish'd than by us ; 
 And, in the interim, your solitude may 
 Converse with heaven, and fairly [so] prepare 
 [For that] which was too violent and raging 
 Thrown headlong on you. 
 
 Leon. Still, there are some doubts 
 Of the discovery ; yet I do allow it. 
 
 Hip. Will you not mention now the cost 
 
 and charge, 
 Which will be in your keeping ! 
 
 Leon. That will be somewhat, 
 Which you might save too. 
 
 Clean. With his will against him, 
 What foe is more to man than man himself? 
 Are you resolved, sir? 
 
 Leon. I am, Cleanthes : 
 If by this means I do get a reprieve, 
 And cozen death awhile, when he shall come 
 Armed in his own power to give the blow, 
 I'll smile upon him then, and laughing go. 
 \_Exeunt. 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 SCENE I. Before the Palace. 
 Enter Evander, Courtiers, and Cratilus. 
 Evan. Executioner ! 
 Crat. My lord. 
 
 Evan. How did old Diodes take his 
 death? 
 
 Crat. As weeping brides receive their 
 
 joys at night ; 
 
 With trembling, yet with patience. 
 Evan. Why, 'twas well, 
 i Court. Nay, I knew my father would 
 
 do well, my lord, 
 Whene'er he came to die ; I'd that opinion 
 
 of him, 
 Which made me the more willing to part 
 
 from him ; 
 
 He was not fit to live in the world, indeed 
 Any time these ten years, my lord, 
 But I would not say so much. 
 
 Evan. No! you did not well in 't, 
 For he that's all spent, is ripe for death at 
 
 all hours, 
 And does but trifle time out. 
 
 1 Court. Troth, my lord, 
 
 I would I'd known your mind nine years ago. 
 Evan. Our law is fourscore years, because 
 
 we judge 
 
 Dotage complete then, as unfruitfulness 
 In women, at threescore ; marry, if the son 
 Can, within compass, bring good solid proofs 
 Of his own father's weakness, and unfitness 
 To live, or sway the living, though he want 
 
 five 
 
 Or ten years of his number, that's not it ; 
 His defect makes him fourscore, and 'tis fit 
 He dies when he deserves ; for every act 
 Is in effect then, when the cause is ripe. 
 
 2 Court. An admirable prince ! how rarely 
 he talks ! 
 
 Oh that we'd known this, lads ! What a 
 
 time did we endure 
 In two-penny commons, and in boots twice 
 
 vamp'd ! 
 
 1 Court. Now we have two pair a week, 
 and yet not thankful ; 
 
 'Twill be a fine world for them, sirs, that 
 come after us. 
 
 2 Court. Ay, an they knew it. 
 
 1 Court. Peace, let them never know it. 
 
 3 Court. A pox, there be young heirs will 
 soon smell't out. 
 
 2 Court. Twill come to them by instinct, 
 man : may your grace 
 
 Never be old, you stand so well for youth ! 
 Evan. Why now, methinks, our court 
 
 looks like a spring, 
 Sweet, fresh, and fashionable, now the old 
 
 weeds are gone. 
 
 i Court. It is as a court should be : 
 Gloss and good clothes, my lord, no matter 
 
 for merit ; 
 
 And herein your law proves a provident act, 
 When men pass not the palsy of their 
 
 tongues, 
 Nor colour in their cheeks. 
 
THE OLD LAW. 
 
 567 
 
 Evan. But women, 
 By that law, should live long, for they're 
 
 ne'er past it. 
 i Court. It will have heats though, when 
 
 they see the painting 
 
 Go an inch deep i'the wrinkle, and take up 
 A box more than their gossips : but for 
 
 men, my lord, 
 
 That should be the sole bravery of a palace, 
 To walk with hollow eyes and long white 
 
 beards, 
 
 As if a prince dwelt in a land of goats ; 
 With clothes as if they sat on their backs on 
 
 purpose 
 
 To arraign a fashion, and condemn't to exile; 
 Their pockets in their sleeves, as if they laid 
 Their ear to avarice, and heard the devil 
 
 whisper ! 
 Now ours lie downward, here, close to the 
 
 flank ; 
 
 Right spending pockets, as a son's should be, 
 That lives i'the fashion ; where our diseased 
 
 fathers, 
 
 Worried with the sciatica and aches, 
 Brought up your paned hose first, which 
 
 ladies laugh' d at, 
 
 | Giving no reverence to the place lies ruin'd : 
 They love a doublet that's three hours a 
 
 buttoning, 
 
 And sits so close makes a man groan again, 
 And his soul mutter half a day ; yet these 
 
 are those, 
 That carry sway and worth : prick'd up in 
 
 clothes, 
 Why should we fear our rising ? 
 
 Evan. You but wrong 
 : Our kindness, and your own deserts, to doubt 
 
 on't. 
 Has not our law made you rich before your 
 
 time ? 
 
 Our countenance then can make you honour- 
 able, 
 i Court. We'll spare for no cost, sir, to 
 
 appear worthy. 
 Evan. Why you're i'the noble way then, 
 
 for the most 
 
 Are but appearers ; worth itself is lost, 
 And bravery stands for't. 
 
 Enter Creon, Antigona, and Simonides. 
 
 1 Court. Look, look, who comes here ! 
 I smell death, and another courtier, 
 Simonides. 
 
 2 Court. Sim ! 
 
 Sim. Pish ! I'm not for you yet, 
 Your company's too costly ; after the old man's 
 Dispatch'd, I shall have time to talk with you 
 Ishallcome into the fashion you shall see too, 
 
 After a day or two ; in the mean time, 
 '. am not for your company. 
 Evan. Old Creon, you have been expected 
 
 long; 
 5ure you're above fourscore. 
 
 Sim. Upon my life, 
 Not four and twenty hours,- my lord ; I 
 
 search'd 
 The church-book yesterday. Does your grace 
 
 think 
 
 "d let my father wrong the law, my lord ? 
 Twere pity o" my life then ! no, your act 
 Shall not receive a minute's wrong by him, 
 While I live, sir; andhe'sso just himself too, 
 know he would not offer' t : here he 
 
 stands. 
 
 Creon. 'Tisjust I die, indeed; for I confess 
 
 [ am troublesome to life now, and the state 
 
 an hope for nothing worthy from me now, 
 
 Either in force or counsel ; I've o' late 
 
 Employ 'd myself quite from the world, 
 
 and he 
 
 That once begins to serve his Maker faith- 
 fully, 
 
 an never serve a worldly prince well after ; 
 'Tis clean another way. 
 
 Ant. Oh, give not confidence 
 To all he speaks, my lord, in his own injury. 
 His preparation only for the next world, 
 Makes him talk wildly, to his wrong, of this; 
 He is not lost in judgment. 
 Sim. She spoils all again. [Aside. 
 
 Ant. Deserving any way for state employ- 
 ment. 
 
 Sim. Mother 
 
 Ant. His very household laws prescribed 
 
 at home by him, 
 
 Are able to conform seven Christian king- 
 doms, 
 They are so wise and virtuous. 
 
 Sim. Mother, I say 
 
 Ant. I know your laws extend not to 
 
 desert, sir, 
 
 But to unnecessary years ; and, my lord, 
 His are not such ; though they show white, 
 
 they are worthy, 
 Judicious, able, and religious. 
 
 Sim. Mother, 
 
 I'll help you to a courtier of nineteen. 
 Ant. Away, unnatural ! 
 Sim. Then I am no fool, sure, 
 For to be natural at such a time 
 Were a fool's part, indeed. 
 
 Ant. Your grace's pity, 
 And 'tis but fit and just. 
 
 Creon. The law, my lord, 
 And that's the justest way. 
 
 Sim. Well said, father, i'faith ! 
 Thou wert ever juster than my mother still. 
 
568 
 
 THE OLD LAW. 
 
 Evan. Come hither, sir. 
 
 Sim. My lord. 
 
 Evan. What are those orders ? 
 
 Ant. Worth observation, sir, 
 So please you hear them read. 
 
 Sim. The woman speaks she knows not 
 
 what, my lord : 
 He make a law, poor man! he bought a 
 
 TABLE, indeed, 
 Only to learn to die by't, there's the busi- 
 
 1 Court. Some funeral, 
 
 It seems, my lord ; and young Cleanthes 
 follows. 
 
 Enter a Funeral Procession ; the hearse fol- 
 lowed by Cleanthes and Hippolita, gaily 
 dressed. 
 
 Evan. Cleanthes ! 
 
 2 Court. 'Tis, my lord, and in the place 
 Of a chief mourner too, butstrangely habited. 
 
 ness, now ; Evan. Yet suitable to his behaviour ; 
 
 Wherein there are some precepts for a son mark it ; 
 
 too, He comes all the way smiling, do you ob- 
 
 How he should learn to live, but I ne'er | serve it ; 
 
 look'd on't : j I never saw a corse so joyfully followed : 
 
 For, when he's dead, I shall live well enough, Light colours and light cheeks ! who should 
 And keep a better TABLE than that, I trow. this be ? 
 
 Evan. And is that all, sir ? 
 Sim. All, I vow, my lord ; 
 Save a few running admonitions 
 Upon cheese-trenchers, as 
 
 Take heed of whoring, s/iun it ; 
 
 ' Tis like a cheese too strong of the runnet. 
 
 'Tis a thing worth resolving. 
 
 Sim. One, belike, 
 That doth participate this our present joy. 
 
 Evan. Cleanthes. 
 
 Clean. Oh, my lord ! 
 
 Evan. He laugh'd outright now ; 
 
 And such calves' maws of wit and admonition, Was ever such a contrariety seen 
 Good to catch mice with, but not sons and In natural courses yet, nay profess'd openly ? 
 heirs ; i Court. I have known a widow laugh 
 
 They are not so easily caught. 
 
 Evan. Agent for death ! 
 
 Crat. Your will, my lord ? 
 
 Evan. Take hence that pile of years, 
 Forfeit before with unprofitable age, 
 
 And, with the rest, from the high promon- 
 tory, 
 
 Cast him into the sea. 
 Creon. 'Tis noble justice ! 
 
 [Exit Crat. with Creon. 
 Ant. 'Tis cursed tyranny ! 
 Sim. Peace ! take heed, mother ; 
 You've but short time to be cast down your- 
 self; 
 
 And let a young courtier do't, an you be wise, 
 In the mean time. 
 Ant. Hence, slave ! 
 Sim. Well, seven-and-fifty, 
 You have but three years to scold, then 
 comes your payment. 
 
 {Exit Antigona. 
 
 1 Court. Simonides. 
 
 Sim. Pish, I'm not brave enough to hold 
 
 you talk yet, 
 Give a man time, I have a suit a making. 
 
 2 Court. We love thy form first ; brave 
 clothes will come, man. 
 
 Sim. I'll make them come else, with a 
 
 mischief to them, 
 As other gallants do, that have less left them. 
 
 closely, my lord, 
 Under her handkerchief, when t'other part 
 Of her old face has wept like rain in sun- 
 shine ; 
 But all the face to laugh apparently, 
 
 Evan. Hark ! 
 what's that ? 
 
 [Recorders within. 
 whence those sounds ? 
 
 Was never seen yet. 
 
 Sim. Yes, mine did once. 
 
 Clean. 'Tis, of a heavy time, the joy- 
 
 full'st day 
 
 That ever son was born to. 
 Evan. How can that be ? 
 Clean. I joy to make it plain, my father's 
 
 dead. 
 
 Evan. Dead ! 
 2 Court. Old Leonides ! 
 Clean. In his last month dead : 
 He beguiled cruel law the sweetliest, 
 
 That ever age was blest to. 
 
 It grieves me that a tear should fall upon't, 
 Being a thing so joyful, but his memory 
 Will work it out, I see ; when his poor 
 
 heart broke, 
 
 I did not do so much : but leap'd for joy 
 So mountingly, I touch'd the stars, me- 
 
 th ought ; 
 
 I would not hear of blacks, I was so light, 
 But chose a colour, orient like my mind : 
 For blacks are often such dissembling 
 
 mourners, 
 
 There is no credit given to't ; it has lost 
 All reputation by false sons and widows. 
 Now I would have men know what I re- 
 semble, 
 
THE OLD LAW. 
 
 569 
 
 A truth, indeed ; 'tis joy clad like a joy, 
 Which is more honest than a cunning grief, 
 That's only faced with sables for a show, 
 But gawdy-hearted : When I saw death come 
 So ready to deceive you, sir, forgive me, 
 I could not choose but be entirely merry, 
 And yet to see now ! of a sudden, 
 Naming but death, I shew myself a mortal, 
 That's never constant to one passion long. 
 I wonder whence that tear came, when I 
 
 smiled 
 
 In the production on't ; sorrow's a thief, 
 That can, when joy looks on, steal forth a 
 
 grief. 
 But, gracious leave, my lord ; when I've 
 
 perform'd 
 
 My last poor duty to my father's bones, 
 I shall return your servant. 
 Evan. Well, perform it, 
 The law is satisfied ; they can but die : 
 And by his death, Cleanthes, you gain well, 
 A rich and fair revenue. 
 
 {Flourish. Exeunt Duke, Courtiers, &c. 
 Sim. I would I had e'en 
 Another father, condition he did the like. 
 Clean. I have past it bravely now ; how 
 
 blest was I, 
 To have the duke in sight ! now 'tis con- 
 
 firm'd, 
 
 Past fear or doubts confirm'd : on, on I say, 
 
 Him that brought me to man, I bring to clay. 
 
 {Exit Funeral Procession, followed by 
 
 Cleanthes and Hippolita. 
 Sim. I am rapt now in a contemplation, 
 Even at the very sight of yonder hearse ; 
 I do but think what a fine thing 'tis now 
 To live, and follow some seven uncles 
 
 thus, 
 
 As many cousin-germans, and such people, 
 That will leave legacies ; pox ! I'd see them 
 
 hang'd else, 
 Ere I'd follow one of them, an they could 
 
 find the way. 
 Now I've enough to begin to be horrible 
 
 covetous. 
 
 Enter Butler, Tailor, Bailiff, Cook, Coach- 
 man, and Footman. 
 
 But. We come to know your worship's 
 pleasure, sir, 
 
 Having long serv'd your father, how your 
 good will 
 
 Stands towards our entertainment. 
 Sim. Not a jot, i'faith : 
 
 My father wore cheap garments, he might 
 do't ; 
 
 I shall have all my clothes come home to- 
 morrow, 
 
 They will eat up all you, an there were more 
 
 of you, sirs. 
 
 To keep you six at livery, and still munching ! 
 Tail. Why, I'm a tailor ; you have most 
 
 need of me, sir. 
 Sim. Thou mad'st my father's clothes, 
 
 that I confess ; 
 But what son and heir will have his father's 
 
 tailor, 
 
 Unless he have a mind to be well laugh' d at? 
 Thou'st been so used to wide long-side 
 
 things, that when 
 I come to truss, I shall have the waist of my 
 
 doublet 
 
 Lie on my buttocks, a sweet sight ! 
 But. I a butler. 
 
 Sim. There's least need of thee, fellow ; I 
 shall ne'er drink at home, I shall be so drunk 
 abroad. 
 
 But. But a cup of small beer will do well 
 next morning, sir. 
 
 Sim. I grant you ; but what need I keep 
 so big a knave for a cup of small beer ? 
 Cook. Butler, you have your answer: 
 
 marry, sir, a cook 
 
 I know your mastership cannot be without. 
 Sim. The more ass art thou to think so ; 
 for what should I do with a mountebank, 
 no drink in my house ? the banishing the 
 butler might have been a warning for thee, 
 unless thou mean'st to choak me. 
 
 Cook. In the meantime you have choak'd' 
 
 me, methinks. 
 Bail. These are superfluous vanities, 
 
 indeed, 
 
 And so accounted of in these days, sir ; 
 But then, yourbailiff to receive your rents 
 
 Sim. I prithee hold thy tongue, fellow, I 
 shall take a course to spend them faster than 
 thou canst reckon them ; 'tis not the rents 
 must serve my turn, unless I mean to be 
 laugh'd at ; if a man should be seen out of 
 slash-me, let him ne'er look to be a right 
 gallant. But, sirrah, with whom is your 
 business ? 
 
 Coach. Your good mastership. 
 
 Sim. You have stood silent all this while, 
 
 like men 
 That know your strengths : in these days, 
 
 none of you 
 Can want employment ; you can win me' 
 
 wagers, 
 
 Footman, in running races. 
 Foot. I dare boast it, sir. 
 Sim. And when my bets are all come in, 
 
 and store, 
 Then, coachman, you can hurry me to my 
 
 whore. 
 Coach. I'll firk them into foam else. 
 
57 
 
 THE OLD LAW. 
 
 Sim. Speaks brave matter : 
 And I'll firk some too, or't shall cost hot 
 water. 
 
 [Exeunt Simonides, Coachman, and 
 
 Footman. 
 Cook. Why, here's an. age to make a cook 
 
 a ruffian, . 
 And scald the devil indeed ! do strange mad 
 
 things, 
 
 Make mutton-pasties of dog's flesh, 
 Bake snakes for lamprey pies, and cats for 
 
 conies. 
 
 But. Come, will you be ruled by a butler's 
 advice once ? for \ve must make up our for- 
 tunes somewhere now, as the case stands : 
 let's e'en, therefore, go seek out widows of 
 nine and fifty, an we can, that's within a 
 year of their deaths, and so we shall be 
 sure to be quickly rid of them ; for a year's 
 enough of conscience to be troubled with a 
 wife, for any man living. 
 
 Cook. Oracle butler ! oracle butler ! he puts 
 down all the doctors o' the name. \Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE II. A room in Creon's House. 
 
 Enter Eugenia and Parthenia. 
 Eug. Parthenia. 
 Parth. Mother. 
 Eug. I shall be troubled 
 This six months with an old clog; would 
 
 the law 
 
 Had been cut one year shorter ! 
 Parth. Did you call, forsooth ? 
 Eug. Yes, you must make some spoonmeat 
 
 for your father, [Exit Parthenia. 
 
 And warm three nightcaps for him. Out 
 
 upon't ! 
 The mere conceit turns a young woman's 
 
 stomach. 
 
 His slippers must be warm'd, in August too, 
 And his gown girt to him in the very dog-days, 
 When every mastiff lolls out's tongue for heat. 
 Would not this vex a beauty of nineteen now? 
 Alas ! I should be tumbling in cold baths now, 
 Under each armpit a fine bean-flower bag, 
 
 To screw out whiteness when I list 
 
 And some sev'n of the properest men in the 
 
 dukedom 
 Making a banquet ready i' the next room for 
 
 rne ; 
 
 Where he that gets the first kiss is envie"d, 
 And stands upon his guard a fortnight after. 
 This is a life for nineteen ! 'tis but justice : 
 For old men, whose great acts stand in their 
 
 minds, 
 
 And nothing in their bodies, do ne'er think 
 A woman young enough for their desire ; 
 -And we young wenches, that have mother- 
 wits, 
 
 And love to many muck first, and man after, 
 Do never think old men are old enough, 
 That we may soon be rid o' them ; there's 
 
 our quittance. 
 
 I've waited for the happyhour this two years, 
 And, if death be so unkind to let him live 
 
 still, 
 All that time I have lost. 
 
 Enter Courtiers. 
 
 1 Court. Young lady ! 
 
 2 Court. O sweet precious bud of beauty ! 
 Troth, she smells over all the house, me- 
 
 thinks. 
 
 i Court. The sweetbriar's but a counter- 
 feit to her 
 
 It does exceed you only in the prickle, 
 But that it shall not long, if you'll be ruled, 
 
 lady. 
 Eug. What means this sudden visitation, 
 
 gentlemen ? 
 So passing well perfumed too ! who's your 
 
 milliner? 
 
 i Court. Love, and thy beaiity, widow. 
 Eug. Widow, sir? 
 
 1 Court. 'Tis sure, and that's as good : in 
 troth we're suitors ; 
 
 We come a wooing, wench ; plain dealing's 
 
 best. 
 
 Eug. A wooing ! what, before my hus- 
 band's dead? 
 
 2 Court. Let's lose no time ; six months 
 will have an end ; 
 
 I know't by all the bonds that e'er I made 
 
 yet. 
 Eug. That's a sure knowledge ; but it 
 
 holds not here, sir. 
 i Court. Do not we know the craft of you 
 
 young tumblers ? 
 That when you wed an old man, you think 
 
 upon 
 Another husband as you are marrying of 
 
 him ; 
 We, knowing your thoughts, made bold to 
 
 see you. 
 
 Enter Simonides richly drest, and 
 Coachman. 
 
 Eug. How wondrous right he speaks ! 
 
 'twas my thought, indeed. 
 Sim. By your leave, sweet widow, do you 
 
 lack any gallants ? 
 Eug. Widow, again ! 'tis a comfort to be 
 
 call'd so. 
 
 1 Court. Who's this ? Simonides ? 
 
 2 Court. Brave Sim, i' faith ! 
 Sim. Coachman ! 
 
 Coach. Sir. 
 
THE OLD LAW. 
 
 Sim. Have an especial care of my new 
 
 mares ; 
 They say, sweet widow, he that loves a horse 
 
 well, 
 Must needs love a widow well. When dies 
 
 thy husband ? 
 Is't not July next ? 
 
 Eug. Oh, you are too hot, sir ! 
 Pray cool yourself, and take September with 
 
 you. 
 Sim. September ! oh, I was but two bows 
 
 wide. 
 
 i Court. Simonides. 
 
 Sim. I can entreat you, gallants, I'm in 
 fashion too. 
 
 Enter Lysander. 
 
 Lys. Ha ! whence this herd of folly ? what 
 
 ' are you ? 
 Sim. WelJ-willers to your wife : pray 'tend 
 
 your book, sir ; 
 
 We've nothing to say to you, you may go die, 
 For here be those in place that can supply. 
 Lys. What's thy wild business here ? 
 Sim. Old man, I'll tell thee ; 
 I come to beg the reversion of thy wife : 
 I think these gallants be of my mind too. 
 But thou art but a dead man, therefore what 
 should a man do talking with thee ? Come, 
 widow, stand to your tackling. 
 Lys. Impious blood-hounds ! 
 Sim. Let the ghost talk, ne'er mind him. 
 Lys. Shames of nature ! 
 Sim. Alas, poor ghost ! consider what the 
 
 man is. 
 Lys. Monsters unnatural ! you that have 
 
 been covetous 
 Of your own father's death, gape you for 
 
 mine now? 
 
 Cannot a poor old man, that now can reckon 
 Even all the hours he has to live, live quiet, 
 For such wild beasts as these, that neither 
 
 hold 
 
 A certainty of good within themselves, 
 But scatter others' comforts that are ripen'd 
 For holy uses ? is hot youth so hasty, 
 It will not give an old man leave to die, 
 And leave a widow first, but will make one, 
 The husband looking on ? May your de- 
 structions 
 
 Come all in hasty figures to your souls ! 
 Your wealth depart in haste, to overtake 
 Your honesties, that died when you were 
 
 infants ! 
 
 Mayyour maleseed be hasty spendthrifts too, 
 Your daughters hasty sinners, and diseased 
 Ere they be thought at years to welcome 
 
 misery ! 
 And may you never know what leisure is, 
 
 But at repentance ! I am too uncharitable, 
 Too foul ; I must go cleanse myself with 
 
 prayers. 
 
 These are the plagues of fondness to old men, 
 We're punish'd home with what we dote upon. 
 
 [Exit. 
 Sim. So, so ! the ghost is vanish'd : now, 
 
 your answer, lady. 
 Eug. Excuse me, gentlemen ; 'twere as 
 
 much impudence 
 
 In me, to give you a kind answer yet, 
 As madness to produce a churlish one. 
 I could say now, come a month hence, sweet 
 
 gentlemen, 
 
 Or two, or three, or when you will, indeed ; 
 But I say no such thing : I set no time, 
 Nor is it mannerly to deny any. 
 I'll carry an even hand to all the world : 
 Let other women make what haste they will, 
 What's that to me? but I profess unfeignedly, 
 I'll have my husband dead before I marry ; 
 Ne'er look for other answer at my hands. 
 Sim. Would he were hang'd, for my part, 
 
 looks for other ! 
 Eug. I'm at a word. 
 Sim. And I am at a blow, then ; 
 I'll lay you o' the lips, and leave you. 
 
 [Kisses her. 
 
 i Court. Well struck, Sim. 
 Sim. He that dares say he'll mend it, I'll 
 
 strike him. 
 i Court. He would betray himself to be a 
 
 botcher, 
 That goes about to mend it. 
 
 Eug. Gentlemen, 
 You know my mind ; I bar you not my 
 
 house : 
 
 But if you choose out hours more seasonably, 
 You may have entertainment. 
 
 Re-enter Parthenia. 
 
 Sim. What will she do hereafter, when 
 
 she is a widow, 
 Keeps open house' already? 
 
 [Exeunt Simonides and Courtiers. 
 J5,ug. How now, girl ! 
 Parth. Those feather 'd fools that hither 
 
 took their flight, 
 Have grieved my father much. 
 
 Eug. Speak well of youth, wench, 
 While thou'st a day to live ; 'tis youth must 
 
 make thee, 
 And when youth fails, wise women will 
 
 make it ; 
 But always take age first, to make thee 
 
 rich : 
 
 That was my counsel ever, and then youth 
 Will make thee sport enough all thy life 
 after. 
 
572 
 
 THE OLD LAW. 
 
 'Tis the time's policy, wench; what is't to j Against his will too : he's the quietest man, 
 
 bide j Especially in bed. 
 
 A little hardness for a pair of years, or so ? ! Hip. Be comforted. 
 A man whose only strength lies in his Eug. How can I, lady? 
 
 None know the terror of an husband's loss, 
 But they that fear to lose him. 
 
 Hip. Fain would I keep it in, but 'twill 
 
 not be ; 
 
 She is my kinswoman, and I am pitiful. 
 I must impart a good, if I know it once, 
 ~"o them that stand in need on't ; I'm like 
 
 breath, 
 
 Weakness in all parts else, thy bedfellow, 
 A cough o' the lungs, or say a wheezing 
 
 matter ; 
 Then shake off chains, and dance all thy life 
 
 after ? 1 1 
 
 Parth. Every one to their liking ; but I I T 
 
 say 
 An honest man's worth all, be he young or 
 
 Yon< 
 
 fray. 
 
 er s my cousin. 
 
 {Exit. 
 Enter Hippolita. 
 
 Eug. Art, I must use thee now ; 
 Dissembling is the best help for a virtue, 
 That ever women had ; it saves their credit 
 
 oft. 
 
 Hip. How now, cousin ! 
 "What, weeping? 
 
 Eug. Can you blame me, when the time 
 Of my dear love and husband now draws on? 
 I study funeral tears against the day 
 I must be a sad widow. 
 Hip. In troth, Eugenia, I have cause to 
 
 weep too ; 
 
 But, when I visit, I come comfortably, 
 And look to be so quited : yet more sob- 
 bing? 
 Eug. Oh! 
 
 The greatest part of your affliction's past, 
 The worst of mine's to come ; I have one to 
 
 die; 
 Your husband's father is dead, and fixed in 
 
 his 
 Eternal peace, past the sharp tyrannous 
 
 blow. 
 
 Hip. You must use patience, coz. 
 Eug. Tell me of patience ! 
 Hip. You have example for't, in me and 
 
 many. 
 Eug. Yours was a father-in-law, but mine 
 
 a husband : 
 
 O, for a woman that could love, and live 
 With an old man, mine is a jewel, cousin ; 
 So quietly he lies by one, so still ! 
 Hip. Alas ! I have a secret lodged within 
 
 me, 
 
 Which now will out in pity : I cannot hold. 
 
 {Aside. 
 Eug. One that will not disturb me in my 
 
 sleep 
 
 For a whole month together, less it be 
 With those diseases age is subject to, 
 As aches, coughs, and pains, and these, 
 
 Loves not to banquet with a joy alone, 
 My friends must partake too. [Aside.'] 
 
 Prithee, cease, cousin ; 
 If your love be so boundles^, which is rare, 
 In a young woman, in these days, I tell you, 
 To one so much past service as your hus- 
 band, 
 
 There is a way to beguile law, and help you ;. 
 My husband found it out first. 
 Eug. Oh, sweet cousin ! 
 Hip. You may conceal him, and give out 
 
 his death 
 
 Within the time ; order his funeral too ; 
 We had it so for ours, I praise heav'n for't, 
 And he's alive and safe. 
 Eug. O blessed coz, 
 How thou revivest me ! 
 
 Hip. We daily see 
 The good old man, and feed him twice a 
 
 day. 
 Methinks, it is the sweetest joy to cherish 
 
 him, 
 That ever life yet shew'd me. 
 
 Eug. So should I think, 
 A dainty thing to nurse an old man well ! 
 Hip. And then we have his prayers and 
 
 daily blessing ; 
 
 And we two live so lovingly upon it, 
 His son and I, and so contentedly, 
 You cannot think unless you tasted on't. 
 Eug. No, I warrant you. Oh, loving 
 
 cousin, 
 
 What a great sorrow hast thou eased me of? 
 A thousand thanks go with thee ! 
 
 Hip. I have a suit to you, 
 I must not have you weep when I am gone. 
 
 \Exit. 
 
 Eug. No, if I do ne'er trust me. Easy fool, 
 Thou hast put thyself into my power for 
 
 ever ; 
 Take heed of aneerinjr of me : I conceal ! 
 
 'ake heed of angering 
 feign a funeral ! I k< 
 
 .eep my husband 
 
 heaven knows, 
 
 'Las ! I've been thinking any time these two 
 
 years, 
 
 I have kept him too long already. 
 I'll go count o'er my suitors, that's my 
 
 business, 
 
THE OLD LAW. 
 
 573 
 
 And prick the man down ; I've six months 
 
 to do't, 
 
 But could dispatch it in one, were I put to't. 
 
 {Exit. 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 SCENE I. Before the Church. 
 F.nter Gnotho and Clerk. 
 
 Gnoth. You have search'd over the parish- 
 chronicle, sir? 
 
 Clerk. Yes, sir ; I have found out the true 
 age and date of the party you wot on. 
 
 Gnoth. Pray you, be cover'd, sir. 
 
 Clerk. When you have shewed me the 
 way, sir. 
 
 Gnoth. Oh, sir, remember yourself, you 
 are a clerk. 
 
 Clerk. A small clerk, sir. 
 
 Gnoth. Likely to be the wiser man, sir ; 
 for your greatest clerks are not always so, as 
 'tis reported. 
 
 Clerk. You are a great man in the parish, 
 sir. 
 
 Gnoth. I understand myself so much the 
 better, sir ; for all the best in the parish pay 
 duties to the clerk, and I would owe you 
 none, sir. 
 
 Clerk. Since you'll have it so, I'll be the 
 first to hide my head. 
 
 Gnoth. Mine is a capcase : now to our busi- 
 ness in hand. Good luck, I hope ; I long to 
 be resolved. 
 
 Clerk. Look you, sir, this is that cannot 
 
 deceive you : 
 
 This is the dial that goes ever true ; 
 You may say ipse dixit upon this witness, 
 And it is good in law too. 
 
 Gnoth. Pray you, let's hear what it speaks. 
 
 Clerk. Mark, sir. Agatha, the daughter 
 of Pollux, (this is your wife's name, and the 
 name of her father,) born 
 
 Gnoth. Whose daughter, say you? 
 
 Clerk. The daughter of Pollux. 
 
 Gnoth. I take it his name was Bollux. 
 
 Clerk. Pollux the orthography, I assure 
 you, sir ; the word is corrupted else. 
 
 Gnoth. Well, on sir, of Pollux ; now come 
 on, Castor. 
 
 Clerk. Born in an. 1540, and now 'tis 99. 
 By this infallible record, sir, (let me see,) 
 she's now just fifty-nine, and wants but one. 
 
 Gnoth. I am sorry she wants so much. 
 
 Clerk. Why, sir? alas, 'tis nothing ; 'tis 
 but so many' months, so many weeks, so 
 many 
 
 Gnoth. Do not deduct it to days, 'twill be 
 the more tedious ; and to measure it by 
 hourglasses were intolerable. 
 
 Clerk. Do not think on it, sir ; half the 
 time goes away in sleep, 'tis half the year in 
 nights. 
 
 Gnoth. O, you mistake me, neighbour, I 
 am loth to leave the good old woman ; if j 
 she were gone now it would not grieve me, 
 for what is a year, alas, but a lingering tor- 
 ment? and were it not better she were out of 
 her pain ? It must needs be a grief to us 
 both. 
 
 Clerk. I would I knew how to ease you, 
 neighbour ! 
 
 Gnoth. You speak kindly, truly, and if you 
 say but Amen to it, (which is a word that I 
 know you are perfect in,) it might be done. 
 Clerks are the most indifferent honest men, 
 for to the marriage of your enemy, or the 
 burial of your friend, the curses or the bless- 
 ings to you are all one ; you say Amen to 
 all. 
 
 Clerk. With a better will to the one than 
 the other, neighbour : but I shall be glad to 
 say Amen to anything might do you a j 
 pleasure. 
 
 Gnoth. There is, first, something above your 
 duty : [Gives him money.'] now I would have 
 you set forward the clock a little, to help the 
 old woman out of her pain. 
 
 Clerk. I will speak to the sexton ; but the 
 day will go ne'er the faster for that. 
 
 Gnoth. Oh, neighbour, you do not conceit 
 me, not the jack of the clock-house ; the 
 hand of the dial, I mean. Come, I know 
 you, being a great clerk, cannot choose but 
 have the art to cast a figure. 
 
 Clerk. Never, indeed, neighbour ; I never ; 
 had the judgment to cast a figure. 
 
 Gnoth. I'll shew you on the back side of 
 your book, look you, what figure's this? 
 
 Clerk. Four with a cipher, that's forty. 
 
 Gnoth. So ! forty ; what's this, now ? 
 
 Clerk. The cipher is turn'd into 9 by add- 
 ing the tail, which makes forty-nine. 
 
 Gnoth. Very well understood : what is't 
 now? 
 
 Clerk. The four is turn'd into three ; 'tis 
 now thirty-nine. 
 
 Gnoth. Very well understood ; and can you 
 do this again ? 
 
 Clerk. Oh ! easily, sir. 
 
 Gnoth. A wager of that ! let me see the 
 place of my wife's age again. 
 
 Clerk. Look you, sir, 'tis here, 1540. 
 
 Gnoth. Forty drachmas, you do not turn 
 that forty into thirty-nine. 
 
 Clerk. A match with you. 
 
 Gnoth. Done ! and you shall keep stakes j 
 yourself : there they are. 
 
 Clerk. A firm match but stay, sir, now I 
 
574 
 
 THE OLD LAW. 
 
 consider it, I shall add a year to your wife's 
 age ; let me see Scirophorion the 17, 
 and now 'tis Hecatombaion the n. If I alter 
 this, your wife will have but a month to live 
 by law. 
 
 Gnoth. That's all one, sir ; either do it, or 
 pay me my wager. 
 
 Clerk. Will you lose your wife before you 
 lose your wager ? 
 
 Gnct/i. A man may get two wives before 
 half so much money by them ; will you 
 do it? 
 
 Clerk. I hope you will conceal me, for 'tis 
 fiat corruption. 
 
 Gnoth. Nay, sir, I would have you keep 
 counsel ; for I lose my money by't, and should 
 be laugh'd at for my labour, if it should be 
 known. 
 
 Clerk. Well, sir, there ! 'tis done ; as per- 
 fect a 39 as can be found in black and white : 
 but mum, sir, there's danger in this figure- 
 casting. 
 
 Gnoth. Ay, sir, I know that : better men 
 than you have been thrown over the bar for 
 as little ; the best is, you can be but thrown 
 out of the belfry. 
 
 Enter the Cook, Tailor, Bailiff, and Butler. 
 
 Clerk. Lock close, here comes company ; 
 asses have ears as well as pitchers. 
 
 Cook. Oh, Gnotho, how is't? here's a 
 trick of discarded cards of us ! we were 
 rank'd with coats, as long as old master lived. 
 
 Gnoth. And is this then the end of serving- 
 men? 
 
 Cook. Yes, 'faith, this is the end of serving 
 men : a wise man were better serve one God 
 than all the men in the world. 
 
 Gnoth. 'Twas well spoke of a cook. And 
 are all fallen into fasting-days and Ember- 
 weeks, that cooks are out of use ? 
 
 Tail. And all tailors will be cut into lists 
 and shreds , if this world hold, we shall 
 grow both out of request. 
 
 But. And why not butlers as well as 
 tailors? if they can go naked, let them 
 neither eat nor drink. 
 
 Clerk. That's strange, methinks, a lord 
 should turn away his tailor, of all men : 
 and how dost thou, tailor ? 
 
 Tail. I do so, so ; but, indeed, all our 
 wants are long of this publican, my lord's 
 bailiff ; for had he been rent-gatherer still, 
 our places had held together still, that are 
 now seam-rent, nay crack'd in the whole 
 piece. 
 
 Bail. Sir, if my lord had not sold his 
 lands that claim his rents, I should still have 
 been the rent-gatherer. 
 
 Cook. The truth is, except the coachman 
 and the footman, all serving-men are out of 
 request. 
 
 Gnoth. Nay, say not so, for you were 
 never in more request than now, for request- 
 ing is but a kind of a begging ; for when 
 you say, I beseech your worship's charity, 
 'tis all one as if you say I request it ; and in 
 that kind of requesting, I am sure serving- 
 men were never in more request. 
 
 Cook. Troth, he says true : well, let that 
 pass, we are upon a better adventure. I 
 see, Gnotho, you have been before us ; we 
 came to deal with this merchant for some 
 commodities. 
 
 Clerk. With me, sir? anything that I can. 
 
 But. Nay, we have looked out our wives 
 already : marry, to you we come to know the 
 prices, that is, to know their ages ; for so 
 much reverence we bear to age, that the more 
 they shall be the more dear to us. 
 
 Tail. The truth is, every man has laid by 
 his widow ; so they be lame enough, blind 
 enough, and old enough, 'tis good enough. 
 
 Clerk. I keep the town-stock ; if you can 
 but name them, I can tell their ages to a 
 day. 
 
 All. We can tell their fortunes to an hour, 
 then. 
 
 Clerk. Only you must pay for turning of 
 the leaves. 
 
 Cook. Oh, bountifully. Come, mine first. 
 
 But. The butler before the cook, while 
 you live ; there's few that eat before they 
 drink in a morning. 
 
 Tail. Nay, then the tailor puts in his 
 needle of priority, for men do clothe them- 
 selves before they either drink or eat. 
 
 Bail. I will strive for no place ; the longer 
 ere I marry my wife, the older she will be, 
 and nearer her end and my ends. 
 
 Clerk. I will serve you all, gentlemen, if 
 you will have patience. 
 
 Gnoth. I commend your modesty, sir; 
 you are a bailiff, whose place is to come be- 
 hind other men, as it were in the bum of all 
 the rest. 
 
 Bail. So, sir ! and you were about this 
 business too, seeking out for a widow ? 
 
 Gnoth. Alack ! no, sir ; I am a married 
 j man, and have those cares upon me that 
 j you would fain run into. 
 
 Bail. What, an old rich wife ! any man 
 in this age desires such a care. 
 
 Gnoth. 'Troth, sir, I'll put a venture with 
 
 you, if you will ; I have a lusty old quean to 
 
 my wife, sound of wind and limb, yet I'll 
 
 give out to take three for one at the mar- 
 
 I riage of my second wife. 
 
THE OLD LAW. 
 
 575 
 
 Bail. Ay, sir, but how near is she to the 
 law? 
 
 Gnoth. Take that at hazard, sir ; there 
 must be time, you know, to get a new. 
 Unsight, unseen, I take three to one. 
 
 Bail. Two to one I'll give, if she have 
 but two teeth in her head. 
 
 Gnoth. A match ; there's five drachmas 
 for ten at my next wife. 
 
 Bail. A match. 
 
 Cook. I shall be fitted bravely: fifty- 
 eight, and upwards ; 'tis but a year and a 
 half, and I may chance make friends, and 
 beg a year of the duke. 
 
 But. Hey, boys ! I am made sir butler ; 
 my wife that shall be wants but two months 
 of her time ; it shall be one ere I marry her, 
 and then the next will be a honey moon. 
 
 Tail. I outstrip you all ; I shall have but 
 six weeks of Lent, if I get my widow, and 
 then comes eating-tide, plump and gorgeous. 
 
 Gnoth. This tailor will be a man, if ever 
 there were any. 
 
 Bail. Now comes my turn, I hope, good- 
 man Finis, you that are still at the end of 
 all, with a so be it. Well now, sirs, do you 
 venture there as I have done ; and I'll ven- 
 ture here after you : Good luck, I beseech 
 thee ! 
 
 Clerk. Amen, sir. 
 
 Bail. That deserves a fee already there 
 'tis ; please me, and have a batter. 
 
 Clerk. Amen, sir. 
 
 Cook. How, two for one at your next wife! 
 is the old one living? 
 
 Gnoth. You have a fair match, I offer you 
 no foul one ; if death make not haste to call 
 her, she'll make none to go to him. 
 
 But. I know her, she's a lusty woman ; 
 I'll take the venture. 
 
 Gnoth. There's five drachmas for ten at 
 my next wife. 
 
 But. A bargain. 
 
 Cook. Nay, then we'll be all merchants : 
 give me. 
 
 Tail. And me. 
 
 But. What, has the bailiff sped ? 
 
 Bail. I am content ; but none of you shall 
 know my happiness. 
 
 Clerk. As well as any of you all, believe 
 it, sir. 
 
 Bail. Oh, clerk, you are to speak last 
 always. 
 
 Clerk. I'll remember't hereafter, sir. You 
 have done with me, gentlemen? 
 
 Enter Agatha. 
 All. For this time, honest register. 
 
 Clerk. Fare you well then ; if you do, I'll 
 cry Amen to it. {Exit. 
 
 Cook. Look you, sir, is not this your wife ? 
 
 Gnoth. My first wife, sir. . 
 
 But. Nay, then we have made a good 
 match on't ; if she have no froward disease, 
 the woman may live this dozen years by her 
 age. 
 
 Tail. I'm afraid she's broken- winded, she 
 holds silence so long. 
 
 Cook. We'll now leave our venture to the 
 event ; I must a wooing. 
 
 But. I'll but buy me a new dagger, and 
 overtake you. 
 
 Bail. So we must all ; for he that goes a 
 wooing to a widow without a weapon, will 
 never get her. 
 
 . [Exeunt all out Gnotho and Agatha. 
 
 Gnoth. Oh, wife, wife ! 
 
 Aga. What ail you, man, you speak so 
 passionately ? 
 
 Gnoth. Tis for thy sake, sweet wife : who- 
 would think so lusty an old woman, with 
 reasonable good teeth, and her tongue in as 
 perfect use as ever it was, should be so near 
 her time ? but the Fates will have it so. 
 
 Aga. What's the matter, man? you do 
 amaze me. 
 
 Gnoth. Thou art not sick neither, I war- 
 rant thee. 
 
 Aga. Not that I know of, sure. 
 
 Gnoth. What pity 'tis a woman should be 
 so near her end, and yet not sick ! 
 
 Aga. Near her end, man ! tush, I can guess 
 
 at that ; 
 
 I have years good yet of life in the remainder : 
 I want two yet at "least of the full number ; 
 Then the law, I know, craves impotent and 
 
 useless, 
 And not the able women. 
 
 Gnoth. Ay, alas ! I see thou hast been re- 
 pairing time as well as thou couldst ; the old 
 wrinkles are well filled up, but the vermilion 
 is seen too thick, too thick and I read 
 what's written in thy forehead ; it agrees 
 with the church-book. 
 
 Aga. Have you sought my age, man? 
 and, I prithee, how is it ? 
 
 Gnoth. I shall but discomfort thee. 
 
 Aga. Not at all, man, when there's no 
 remedy, I will go, though unwillingly. 
 
 Gnoth. 1539. Just ; it agrees with the 
 book : you have about a year to prepare 
 yourself. 
 
 Aga. Out, alas ! I hope there's more than 
 so. But do you not think a reprieve might 
 be gotten for half a score an 'twere but five 
 years, I would not care? an able woman, 
 methinks, were to be pitied. 
 
576 
 
 THE OLD LAW. 
 
 Gnoth. Ay, to be pitied, but not help'd ; 
 no hope of that : for, indeed, women have so 
 "blemish 'd their own reputations now-a-days, 
 that it is thought the law will meet them at 
 fifty very shortly. 
 
 Aga. Marry, the heavens forbid ! 
 
 Gnoth. There's so many of you, that, 
 when you are old, become witches; some 
 profess physic, and kill good subjects faster 
 than a burning fever ; and then school- 
 mistresses of the sweet sin, which commonly 
 we call bawds, innumerable of that sort : for 
 these and such causes 'tis thought they shall 
 not live above fifty. 
 
 Aga. Ay, man, 'but this hurts not the good 
 old women. 
 
 Gnoth. Faith, you are so like one another, 
 
 that a man cannot distinguish them : now, 
 
 were I an old woman, I would desire to go 
 
 i before my time, and offer myself willingly, 
 
 two or three years before. Oh, those are 
 
 brave women, and worthy to be commended 
 
 '. of all men in the world, that, when their 
 
 | husbands die, they run to be burnt to death 
 
 with them : there's honour and credit ! give 
 
 me half a dozen such wives. 
 
 Aga. Ay, if her husband were dead before, 
 'twere a reasonable request ; if you were dead, 
 I could be content to be so. 
 
 Gnoth. Fie ! that's not likely, for thou hadst 
 two husbands before me. 
 
 Aga. Thou wouldst not have me die, 
 wouldst thou, husband ? 
 
 Gnoth. No, I do not speak to that pur- 
 pose ; but I say what credit it were for me 
 and thee, if thou wouldst ; then thou shouldst 
 never be suspected for a witch, a physician, 
 a bawd, or any of those things : and then 
 ' how daintily should I mourn for thee, how 
 i bravely should I see thee buried ! when, alas, 
 : if he goes before, it cannot choose but be a 
 great grief to him to think he has not seen 
 his wife well buried. There be such virtuous 
 women in the world, but too few, too few, 
 who desire to die seven years before their 
 time, with all their hearts. 
 Aga. I have not the heart to be of that 
 mind ; but, indeed, husband, I think you 
 would have me gone. 
 
 Gnoth. No, alas ! I speak but for your 
 good and your credit ; for when a woman 
 may die quickly, why should she go to law 
 for her death ? Alack, I need not wish thee 
 gone, for thou hast but a short time to stay 
 with me : you do not know how near 'tis, 
 it must out ; you have but a month to live 
 'by the law. 
 
 Aga. Out, alas ! 
 
 Gnoth. Nay, scarce so much. 
 
 Aga. Oh, oh, oh, my heart ! [Swoons. 
 
 Gnoth. Ay, so ! if thou wouldst go away 
 
 quietly, 'twere sweetly done, and like a kind 
 
 wife ; lie but a little longer, and the bell shall 
 
 toll for thee. 
 
 Aga. Oh my heart, but a month to live ! 
 Gnoth. Alas, why wouldst thou comeback 
 again for a month ? I '11 throw her down 
 again oh ! woman, 'tis not three weeks ; I 
 think a fortnight is the most. 
 Aga. Nay, then I am gone already. 
 
 [Swoons. 
 
 Gnoth. I would make haste to the sexton 
 now, but I am afraid the tolling of the bell 
 will wake her again. If she be so wise as to i 
 go now she stirs again ; there's two lives | 
 of the nine gone. 
 
 Aga. Oh ! wouldst thou not help to recover 
 me, husband? 
 
 Gnoth. Alas, I could not find in my heart 
 to hold thee by thy nose, or box thy cheeks ; 
 it goes against my conscience. 
 
 Aga. I will not be thus frighted to my 
 death, I'll search the church records : a fort- 
 night ! 
 Tis too little of conscience, I cannot be so 
 
 near; 
 
 O time, if thoube'st kind, lend me but a year. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Gnoth. What a spite's this, that a man 
 
 cannot persuade his wife to die in any time 
 
 with her good will ? I have another bespoke 
 
 ) already ; though a piece of old beef will 
 
 i serve to breakfast, yet a man would be glad 
 
 of a chicken to supper. The clerk, I hope, 
 
 understands no Hebrew, and cannot write 
 
 I backward what he hath writ fonvard already, 
 
 j and then I am well enough. 
 
 i 'Tis but a month at most, if that were gone, 
 
 j My venture comes in with her two for one : 
 
 i 'Tis use enough o' conscience for a broker 
 
 i if he had a conscience. [Exit. 
 
 SCENE II. A Room in Creon's House. 
 
 Enter Eugenia at one door, Simonides 
 and Courtiers at the other. 
 
 Eug. Gentlemen courtiers. 
 
 i Court. All your vow'd servants, lady. 
 
 Eug. Oh, I shall kill myself with infinite 
 
 laughter ! 
 Will nobody take my part ? 
 
 Sim. An't be a laughing business, 
 Put it to me, I'm one of the best in Europe ; 
 My father died last too, I have the most 
 
 cause. 
 Eug. You have pick'd out such a time, 
 
 sweet gentlemen, 
 To make your spleen a banquet. 
 
THE OLD LAW. 
 
 S7/ 
 
 Sim. Oh, the jest ! 
 
 Lady, I have a jaw stands ready for't, 
 I'll gape half way, and meet it. 
 
 Eug. My old husband, 
 That cannot say his prayers out for jealousy, 
 And madness at your coming first to woo 
 me 
 
 Sim. Well said. 
 
 1 Court. Go on. 
 
 2 Court. On, on. 
 
 Eug. Takes counsel with 
 The secrets of all art, to make himself 
 Youthful again. 
 
 Sim. How ! youthful ? ha, ha, ha ! 
 Eug. A man of forty-five he would fain 
 
 seem to be, 
 Or scarce so much, if he might have his will, 
 
 indeed. 
 
 Sim. Ay, but his white hairs, they'll be- 
 tray his hoariness. 
 Eug. Why, there you are wide : he's not 
 
 the man you take him for, 
 Nor will you know him when you see him 
 
 again ; 
 
 There will be five to one laid upon that, 
 i Court. How ! 
 Eug. Nay, you did well to laugh faintly 
 
 there ; 
 
 I promise you, I think he'll outlive me now, 
 And deceive law and all. 
 Sim. Marry, gout forbid ! 
 Eug. You little think he was at fencing- 
 school 
 
 At four o'clock this morning. 
 Sim. How, at fencing-school ! 
 Eug. Else give no trust to woman. 
 Sim. By this light, 
 
 I do not like him, then ; he's like to live 
 Longer than I, for he may kill me first, now. 
 Eug. His dancer now came in as I met 
 you. 
 
 1 Court. His dancer, too ! 
 
 Eug. They observe turns and hours with 
 
 him ; 
 
 The great French rider will be here at ten, 
 With his curveting horse. 
 
 2 Court. These notwithstanding, 
 
 His hair and wrinkles will betray his age. 
 Eug. I'm sure his head and beard, as he 
 
 has order'd it, 
 Look not past fifty now : he'll bring't to 
 
 forty 
 Within these four days, for nine times an 
 
 hour 
 He takes a black lead comb, and kembs it 
 
 over : 
 
 Three quarters of his beard is under fifty ; 
 There's but a little tuft of fourscore left, 
 All o' one side, which will be black by Monday. 
 
 Enter Lvsander. 
 
 And, to approve my truth, see where her 
 
 come? ! 
 
 Laugh softly, gentlemen, and look upon him. 
 [They^go aside. 
 
 Sim. Now, by this hand, he's almost- 
 black i' the mouth, indeed, 
 i Court. He should die shortly, then. 
 Sim. Marry, methinks he dyes too fast 
 
 already, 
 For he was all white but a week ago. 
 
 1 Court. Oh ! this same coney-white takes 
 an excellent black. 
 
 Too soon, a mischief on't ! 
 
 2 Court. He will beguile 
 
 Us all, if that little tuft northward turrr 
 
 black too. 
 Eug. Nay, sir, I wonder 'tis so long a 
 
 turning. 
 Situ. May be some fairy's child held- 
 
 forth at midnight, 
 Has piss'd upon that side. 
 i Court. Is this the beard ? 
 lys. Ah, sirrah? my young boys, I shall 
 
 be for you : 
 
 This little mangy tuft takes up more time 
 Than all the beard beside. Come you a 
 
 wooing, 
 
 And I alive and lusty? you shall find 
 An alteration, jack-boys ; I have a spirit yet, 
 (An I could match my hair to't, there's the 
 
 fault,) 
 
 And can do offices of youth yet lightly ; 
 At least, I will do, though it pain me a 
 
 little. 
 
 Shall not a man, for a little foolish age, 
 Enjoy his wife to himself? must young court 
 
 tits 
 Play tomboys' tricks with her, and he live ? 
 
 ha! 
 I have blood that will not bear't ; yet, I' 
 
 confess, 
 I should be at my prayers but where's the 
 
 dancer, there ! 
 
 Enter Dancing-master. 
 
 Mast. Here, sir. 
 
 Lys. Come, come, come, one trick a day, 
 And I shall soon recover all again. 
 Eug. 'Slight, an you laugh too loud, we 
 
 are all discover'd. 
 Sim. And I have a scurvy grinning laugh 
 
 o' mine own, 
 
 Will spoil all, I am afraid. 
 Eug. Marry, take heed, sir. 
 Sim. Nay, an I should be hang'd I cannot 
 
 leave it ; 
 Pup ! there 'tis. [Bursts into a laugh. 
 
$73 
 
 THE OLD LAW. 
 
 Eug. Peace ! oh peace ! 
 Lys. Come, I am ready, sir. 
 I hear the church-book's lost where I was 
 
 born too, 
 
 And that shall set me back one twenty years ; 
 There is no little comfort left in that : 
 And then my three court-codlings, that 
 
 look parboil'd, 
 
 As if they came from Cupid's scalding- 
 house 
 
 Sim. He means me specially, I hold my 
 
 life. 
 Mast. What trick will your old worship 
 
 learn this morning, sir? 
 Lys. Marry, a trick, if thou couldst teach 
 
 a man, 
 ; To keep his wife to himself ; I'd fain learn 
 
 that. 
 Mast. That's a hard trick, for an old man 
 
 specially ; 
 The horse-trick comes the nearest. 
 
 Lys. Thou say'st true, i' faith, 
 They must be horsed indeed, else there's no 
 
 keeping them, 
 
 And horse-play at fourscore is not so ready. 
 
 Mast. Look you, here's your worship's 
 
 horse-trick, sir. [Gives a spring. 
 
 Lys. Nay, say not so, 
 
 'Tis none of mine; I fall down horse and 
 
 man, 
 
 If I but offer at it. 
 Mast. My life for youis, sir. 
 Lys. Say'st thou me so ? {Springs aloft. 
 Mast. Well offer'd, by my viol, sir. 
 Lys. A pox of this horse-trick ! "t has 
 
 play'd the jade with me, 
 And given me a wrench i' the back. 
 
 Mast. Now here's your inturn, and your 
 
 trick above ground. 
 Lys. Prithee, no more, unless thou hast a 
 
 mind 
 
 To lay me under-ground ; one of these tricks 
 Is enough in a morning. 
 
 Mast. For your galliard, sir, 
 You are complete enough, ay, and may 
 
 challenge 
 The proudest coxcomb of them all, I'll stand 
 
 to't. 
 Lys. Faith, and I've other weapons for the 
 
 rest too : 
 
 I have prepared for them, if e'er I take 
 My Gregories here again. 
 Sim. Oh ! I shall burst, 
 I can hold out no longer. 
 
 Eug. He spoils all. [ They comefo) ward. 
 Lys. The devil and his grinners ! are you 
 
 ' come ? 
 
 Bring forth the weapons, we shall find you 
 play; 
 
 All feats of youth too, jack-boys, feats of 
 
 youth, 
 And these the weapons, drinking, fencing, 
 
 dancing : 
 Your own road-ways, you clyster-pipes ! I 
 
 am old, you say, 
 
 Yes, parlous old, kids, an you mark me well ! 
 This beard cannot get children, you lank 
 
 suck-eggs, 
 Unless such weasels come from court to 
 
 help us. 
 We will get our own brats, you letcherous 
 
 dog-bolts ! 
 
 Enter a Servant with foils, and glasses. 
 
 Well said, down with them ; now we shall 
 
 see your spirits. 
 What ! dwindle you already ? 
 2 Court. I have no quality. 
 Sim. Nor I, unless drinking may be 
 
 reckon'd for one. 
 i Court. Why, Sim, it shall. 
 Lys. Come, dare you choose your weapon 
 now ? 
 
 1 Court. I? dancing, sir, an you will be 
 so hasty. 
 
 Lys. We're for you, sir. 
 
 2 Court. Fencing, I. 
 
 Lys. We'll answer you too. 
 
 Sim. I am for drinking; your wet weapon \ 
 
 there. 
 Lys. That wet one has cost many a prin- 
 
 cox life ; 
 
 And I will send it through you with a powder ! 
 Sim. Let it come, with a pox ! I care not, 
 
 so't be drink. 
 
 I hope my guts will hold, and that's e'en all 
 
 A gentleman can look for of such trillibubs. 
 
 Lys. Play the first weapon ; come strike, 
 
 strike, I say. 
 Yes, yes, you shall be first ; I'll observe 
 
 court rules : 
 
 Always the worst goes foremost, so 'twill 
 prove, I hope. 
 
 [i Courtier dances a galliard. 
 
 So, sir ! you've spit your poison ; now come I. 
 
 i Now, forty years go backward and assist me, 
 
 I Fall from me half my age, but for three 
 
 minutes, 
 
 That I may feel no crick ! I will put fair for't, 
 Although I hazard twenty sciaticas. 
 
 \Dances. 
 So, I have hit you. 
 
 1 Court. You've done well, i'faith, sir. 
 Lys. If you confess it well, 'tis excellent, 
 
 And I have hit you soundly ; I am warm now: 
 The second weapon instantly. 
 
 2 Court. What, so quick,' sir? 
 
 Will you not allow yourself a breathing-time? 
 
THE OLD LAW. 
 
 579 
 
 Lys. I've breath enough at alt times,- Lu- 
 cifer's musk-cod, 
 
 To give your perfumed worship three venues: 
 A sound old man puts his thrust better home, 
 Than a spiced young man : there I. 
 
 [They fence. 
 
 2 Court. Then have at you, fourscore. 
 Lys. You lie, twenty, I hope, and you 
 
 shall find it. 
 Sim. I'm glad I miss'd this weapon, I'd 
 
 had an eye 
 
 Popt out ere this time, or my two butter- 
 teeth 
 
 Thrust down my throat instead of a flap- 
 dragon. 
 l.ys. There's two, pentweezle. 
 
 {Hits him. 
 
 Mast. Excellently touch' d, sir. 
 2 Court. Had ever man such luck ! speak 
 
 your opinion, gentlemen. 
 Sim. Methinks your luck's good that your 
 
 eyes are in still ; 
 Mine would have dropt out like a pig's half 
 
 roasted. 
 
 Lys. There wants a third and there it is 
 again ! [Hits him again. 
 
 2 Court. The devil has steel'd him. 
 Eug. What a strong fiend is jealousy ! 
 Lys. You are dispatch'd, bear-whelp. 
 Sim. Now comes my weapon in. 
 Lys. Here, toadstool, here. 
 "Tis you and I must play these three wet 
 
 venues. 
 Sim. Venues in Venice glasses ! let them 
 
 come, 
 They'll bruise no flesh, I'm sure, nor break 
 
 no bones. 
 2 Court. Yet you may drink your eyes out, 
 
 sir. 
 
 Sim. Ay, but that's nothing ; 
 1 Then they go voluntarily : I do not 
 i Love to have them thrust out, whether they 
 
 will or no. 
 Lys. Here's your first weapon, duck's- 
 
 meat. 
 
 Sim. How! aDutchwhat-do-you-call-'em, 
 Stead of a German faulchion ! a shrewd 
 
 weapon, 
 
 i And, of all things, hard to be taken down : 
 Yet down it must, I have a nose goes into't ; 
 I shall drink double, I think, 
 i Court. The sooner oft, Sim. 
 
 Lys. I'll pay you speedily, with a 
 
 trick 
 
 I learnt once amongst drunkards, here's a 
 
 half-pike. [Drinks. 
 
 Sim. Half-pike comes well after Dutch 
 
 what-do-yo u-call- 'em , 
 They'd never be asunder by their good will. 
 
 i Court. Well pull'd of an old fellow ! 
 Lys. Oh, but your fellows 
 Pull better at a rope. 
 
 i Court. There's a hair, Sim, 
 In that glass. 
 
 Sim. An't be as long as a halter, down 
 
 it goes ; 
 
 No hair shall cross me. [Drinks. 
 
 Lys. I'll make you stink worse than your 
 
 'polecats do : 
 Here's long-sword, your last weapon. 
 
 [Offers him the glass. 
 Sim. No more weapons. 
 
 1 Court. Why, how now, Sim ? bear up, 
 thou shamest us all, else. 
 
 Sim. 'Slight I shall shame you worse, an 
 
 I stay longer. 
 
 I have got the scotomy in my head already, 
 The whimsey : you all turn round do not 
 you dance, gallants ? 
 
 2 Court. Pish ! what's all this? why, Sim, 
 look, the last venue. 
 
 Sim. No more venues go down here, for 
 
 these two 
 Are coming up again. 
 
 2 Court. Out ! the disgrace of drinkers ! 
 Sim. Yes, 'twill out, 
 Do you smell nothing yet ? 
 i Court. Smell ! 
 Sim. Farewell quickly, then ; 
 You will do, if I stay. ' [Exit. 
 
 i Court. A foil go with thee ! 
 Lys. What, shall we put down youth at 
 
 her own virtues ? 
 Beat folly in her own ground? wondrous 
 
 much ! 
 
 Why may not we be held as full sufficient 
 To love our own wives then, get our own 
 
 children, 
 
 And live in free peice till we be dissolv'd, 
 For such spring butterflies that are gaudy- 
 
 wing'd, 
 But no more substance than those shamble 
 
 flies 
 Which butchers' boys snap between sleep 
 
 and waking ? 
 Come but to crush you once, you are but 
 
 maggots, 
 For all your beamy outsides ! 
 
 Enter Cleanthes. 
 
 Eug. Here's Cleanthes, 
 He comes to chide ; let him alone a little, 
 Our cause will be revenged ; look, look, his 
 
 face 
 
 Is set for stormy weather ; do but nun k 
 How the clouds gather in it, 'twill pour down 
 
 straight. 
 
 P P 3 
 
THE OLD JAW. 
 
 Clean. Methinks, I partly know you, 
 
 that's my grief. 
 Could you not all be lost ? that had been 
 
 handsome ; 
 But to be known at all, 'tis more than 
 
 shameful. 
 Why, was not your name wont to be 
 
 Lysander ? 
 
 Lys. 'Tis so still, coz. 
 Clean. Judgment, defer thy coming ! else 
 
 this man's miserable. 
 Eug. I told you there would be a shower 
 
 anon. 
 
 z Court. We'll in, and hide our noddles. 
 {Exeunt Eugenia and Courtiers. 
 Clean. What devil brought this colour to 
 
 your mind, 
 Which, since your childhood, I ne'er saw 
 
 you wear? 
 
 [Sure] you were ever of an innocent gloss 
 Since I was ripe for knowledge, and would 
 
 you lose it, 
 
 And change the livery of saints and angels 
 For this mixt mons'trousness : to force a 
 
 ground 
 
 That has been so long hallowed like a temple, 
 To bring forth fruits of earth now ; and turn 
 
 back 
 
 To the wild cries of lust, and the complexion 
 Of sin in act, lost and long since repented ! 
 Would you begin a woik ne'er yet attempted, 
 To spull time backward ? 
 See what your wife will do ! are your wits 
 
 perfect ? 
 Lys. My wits ! 
 Clean. I like it ten times worse, for't had 
 
 been safer 
 
 Now to be mad, and more excusable : 
 I hear you dance again, and do strange follies. 
 Lys. I must confess I have been put to 
 
 some, coz. 
 Clean. And yet you are not mad ! pray, 
 
 say not so ; 
 Give me that comfort of you, that you are 
 
 mad, 
 
 That I may think you are at worst ; for if 
 You are not mad, I then must guess you have 
 The first of some disease was never heard of, 
 Which may be worse than madness, and 
 
 more fearful : 
 
 You'd weep to see yourself else, and your care 
 To pray, would quickly turn you white again. 
 I had a father, had he lived his month out, 
 But to have seen this most prodigious folly, 
 There needed not the law to have him cut off; 
 The sight of this had proved his executioner, 
 And broke his heart : he would have held it 
 
 equal 
 Done to a sanctuary, for what is age 
 
 But the holy place of life, chapel of ease 
 For all men's wearied miseries ? and to rob' 
 That of her ornament, it is accurst 
 As from a priest to steal a holy vestment, 
 Ay, and convert it to a sinful covering. 
 
 {Exit Lysander. 
 I see 't has done him good ; blessing go- 
 
 with it, 
 Such as may make him pure again. 
 
 Re-enter Eugenia. 
 
 Eug. 'Twas bravely touch'd, i' faith, sir. 
 Clean. Oh, you are welcome. 
 Eug. Exceedingly well handled. 
 Clean. 'Tis to you I come ; he fell but in- 
 
 my way. 
 
 E^tg. You mark'd his beard, cousin ? 
 Clean. Mark me. 
 
 Eug. Did you ever see a hair so changed ? 
 Clean. I must be forced to wake her 
 
 loudly too, 
 The devil has rock'd her so fast asleep : 
 
 Strumpet ! 
 
 Eug. Do you call, sir? 
 Clean. Whore i 
 Eug. How do you, sir? 
 Clean. Be I ne'er so well, 
 I must be sick of thee ; thou art a disease 
 That stick'st to the heart, as all such 
 
 women are. 
 
 Eug. What ails our kindred ? 
 Clean. Bless me, she sleeps still ! 
 What a dead modesty is in this woman, 
 Will never blush again ! Look on tby work 
 But with a Christian eye, 'twould turn thy 
 
 heart 
 
 Into a shower of blood, to be the cause 
 Of that old man's destruction, think upon't, 
 Ruin eternally ; for, through thy loose follies, 
 Heaven has found him a faint servant lately : 
 His goodness has gone backward, and en- 
 
 gender'd 
 With his old sins again ; he has lost his 
 
 prayers, 
 And all the tears that were companions with 
 
 them : 
 And like a blindfold man, (giddy and 
 
 blinded,) 
 Thinking he goes right on still, swerves but 
 
 one foot, 
 And turns to the same place where he set 
 
 out ; 
 
 So he, that took his farewell of the world, 
 And cast the joys behind him, out of sight, 
 Summ'd up his hours, made even with time 
 
 and men, 
 
 Is now in heart arrived at youth again, 
 All by thy wildness : thy too hasty lust 
 Has driven him to this strong apostacy. 
 
THE OLD LAW. 
 
 Immodesty like thine was never equall'd : 
 I've heard of women, (shall I call them so ?) 
 Have welcomed suitors ere the corpse were 
 
 cold; 
 But thou, thy husband living : thou'rt too 
 
 bold. 
 
 Eug. Well, have you done now, sir ? 
 Clean. Look, look ! she smiles yet. 
 Rug. All this is nothing to a mind re- 
 solved ; 
 
 Ask any woman that, she'll tell you so much : 
 You have only shewn a pretty saucy wit, 
 Which I shall not forget, nor to requite it. 
 You shall hear from me shortly. 
 
 Clean. Shameless woman ! 
 I take my counsel from thee, 'tis too honest, 
 And leave thee wholly to thy stronger 
 
 master : 
 Bless the sex o' thee from thee ! that's my 
 
 prayer. 
 
 Were all like thee, so impudently common, 
 No man would e'er be found to wed a 
 
 woman. [Exit. 
 
 Eug. I'll fit you gloriously. 
 He that attempts to take away my pleasure, 
 I'll take away his joy ; and I can sure. 
 His conceal' d father pays for't : I'll e'en tell 
 Him that I mean to make my husband next, 
 And he shall tell the duke mass, here he 
 
 comes. 
 
 Re-enter Simonides. 
 
 Sim. He has had a bout with me too. 
 
 Eug. What ! no? since, sir? 
 
 Sim. A flirt, a little flirt ; he call'd me 
 
 strange names, 
 But I ne'er minded him. 
 
 Eug. You shall quit him, sir, 
 When he as little minds you. 
 
 Sim. I like that well. 
 I love to be revenged when no one thinks of 
 
 me ; 
 There's little danger that way. 
 
 Eug. This is it then ; 
 
 He you shall strike your stroke shall be pro- 
 found, 
 And yet your foe not guess who gave the 
 
 wound. 
 
 Sim. O' my troth I love to give such 
 wounds. [Exeunt. 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 SCENE I. Before a Tavern. 
 
 Enter Gnotho, Butler, Bailiff, Tailor, Cook, 
 Drawer, and Courtezan. 
 
 Draw. Welcome, gentlemen, will you not 
 
 draw near ? will you drink at door, gentle- 
 men? 
 
 But. Oh ! the summer air is best. 
 
 Draw. What wine will't please you drink, 
 gentlemen ? 
 
 But. De Clare, sirrah. [Exit Drawer. 
 
 Gnoth. What, you're all sped already, 
 bullies? 
 
 Cook. My widow's o' the spit, and half 
 ready, lad ; a turn or two more, and I have 
 done with her. 
 
 Gnoth. Then, cook, I hope you have 
 basted her before this time. 
 
 Cook. And stuck her with rosemary too, to 
 sweeten her ; she was tainted ere she came 
 to my hands. What an old piece of flesh 
 of fifty-nine, eleven months, and upwards ! 
 she must needs be fly-blown. 
 
 Gnoth. Put her off, put her off, though 
 you lose by her ; the weather's hot. 
 
 Cook. Why, drawer ! 
 
 Re-enter Drawer. 
 
 Draw. By and by : here, gentlemen, 
 here's the quintessence of Greece ; the sages 
 never drunk better grape. 
 
 Cook. Sir, the mad Greeks of this age can 
 taste their Palermo as well as the sage 
 Greeks did before them. Fill, lick-spiggot. 
 
 Draw. Ad imum, sir. 
 
 Gnoth. My friends, I must doubly invite 
 you all, the fifth of the next month, to the 
 funeral of my first wife, and to the marriage 
 of my second, my two to one ; this is she. 
 
 Cook. I hope some of us will be ready 
 for the funeral of our wives by that time, to 
 go with thee : but shall they be both of a 
 day? 
 
 Gnuth. Oh ! best of all, sir ; where sorrow 
 and joy meet together, one will help away 
 with another the better. Besides, there will 
 be charges saved too ; the same rosemary 
 that serves for the funeral, will serve lor the 
 wedding. 
 
 But. How long do you make account to 
 be a widower, sir? 
 
 Gnoth. Some half an hour ; long enough 
 o' conscience. Come, come, let's have some 
 agility ; is there no music in the house ? 
 
 Draw. Yes, sir, here are sweet wire- 
 drawers in the house. 
 
 Cook. Oh ! that makes them and you 
 seldom part ; you are wine-drawers, and 
 they wire-drawers. 
 
 Tail. And both govern by the pegs too. 
 
 Gnoth. And you have pipes in your con- 
 sort too. 
 
 Draw. And sack-buts too, sir. 
 
 But. But the heads of your instruments 
 
532 
 
 THE OLD LAW. 
 
 differ ; yours are hogs-heads, theirs cittern 
 and gittern-heads. 
 
 Bail, All wooden heads ; there they meet 
 again. 
 
 Cook. Bid them strike up, we'll have a 
 
 dance, Gnotho ; come, thou shalt foot it too. 
 
 [Exit Drawer. 
 
 Gnolh. No dancing with me, we have 
 Siren here. 
 
 Cook. Siren ! 'twas Hiren, the fair Greek, 
 man. 
 
 Gnoth. Five drachmas of that. I say 
 Siren, the fair Greek, and so are all fair 
 Greeks. 
 
 Cook. A match ; five drachmas her name 
 was Hiren. 
 
 Gnoth. Siren's name was Siren, for five 
 drachmas. 
 
 Cook. Tisdone. 
 
 Tail. Take heed what you do, Gnotho. 
 
 Gnoth. Do not I know our own country- 
 women, Siren and Nell of Greece, two of 
 the fairest Greeks that ever were? 
 
 Cook. That Nell was Helen of Greece too. 
 
 Gnoth. As long as she tarried with her 
 husband, she was Ellen ; but after she came 
 to Troy, she was Nell of Troy, or Bonny 
 Nell, whether you will or no. 
 
 Tail. Why, did she grow shorter when 
 she came to Troy? 
 
 Gnoth. She grew longer, if you mark the 
 story. When she grew to be an ell, she was 
 deeper than any yard of Troy could reach 
 by a quarter ; there was Cressid was Troy 
 weight, and Nell was avoirdupois ; she held 
 more, by four ounces, than Cressida. 
 
 Bail. They say she caused many wounds 
 to be given in Troy. 
 
 Gnoth. True, she was wounded there her- 
 self, and cured again by plaister of Paris ; 
 and ever since that has been used to stop 
 holes with. 
 
 Re-enter Drawer. 
 
 Draw. Gentlemen, if you be disposed to 
 be merry, the music is ready to strike up ; 
 and here's a consort of mad Greeks, I know 
 not whether they be men or women, or be- 
 tween both ; they have, what do you call 
 them, wizards on their faces. 
 
 Cook. Vizards, good man lick-spiggot. 
 
 But. Ii they be wise women, they may be 
 wizards too. 
 
 Draw. They desire to enter amongst any 
 merry company of gentlemen-good-iellows, 
 for a strain or two. 
 
 Enter old Women and Agatha in masks. 
 Cook. We'll strain ourselves with them, 
 
 say ; let them come, Gnotho ; now for the 
 honour of Epire ! 
 
 Gnoth. No dancing with me, we have 
 Siren here. 
 
 \A dance by the old Women and Aga- 
 tha ; they offer to take the men, all 
 agree except Gnotho, who sits ivitk 
 the Courtezan. . 
 
 Cook. Ay ! so kind ! then every one his 
 wench to his several room ; Gnotho, we are 
 all provided now as you are. 
 
 [Exeunt all but Gnotho, Courtezan, 
 and Agatha. 
 
 Gnoth. I shall have two, it seems : away! 
 I have Siren here already. 
 
 Aga. What, a mermaid? 
 
 [ Takes off her mask. 
 
 Gnoth. No, but a maid, horse-face : oh, 
 old woman ! is it you ? 
 
 Aga. Yes, 'tis I ; all the rest have gulled 
 themselves, and taken their own wives, and 
 shall know that they have done more than 
 they can well answer ; but I pray you, hus- 
 band, what are you doing ? 
 
 Gnoth. Faith, thus should I do, if thou 
 wert dead, old Ag, and thou hast not long 
 to live, I'm sure : we have Siren here. 
 
 Aga. Art thou so shameless, whilst 
 I am living, to keep one under my 
 nose? 
 
 Gnoth. No, Ag, I do prize her far above 
 thy nose ; if thou wouldst lay me both thine 
 eyes in my hand to boot, I'll not leave her : 
 art not ashamed to be een in a tavern, and 
 hast scarce a fortnight to live ? oh, old 
 woman, what art thou ? must thou find no 
 time to think of thy end ? 
 
 Aga. O, unkind villain ! 
 
 Gnoth. And then, sweetheart, thou shalt 
 have two new gowns ; and the best of this 
 old woman's shall make thee raiment for the 
 working days. 
 
 Aga. O, rascal! dost thou quarter my 
 clothes already too ? 
 
 Gnoth. Her ruffs will serve thee for no- 
 thing but to wash d*shes ; for thou shalt 
 have thine of the new fashion. 
 
 Aga. Impudent villain ! shameless harlot! 
 
 Gnoth. You may hear, she never wore 
 any but rails all her lifetime. 
 
 Aga. Let me come, I'll tear the strumpet 
 from him. 
 
 Gnoth. Dar'st thou call my wife strumpet, 
 thou preterpluperfect tense of a woman ! I'll 
 make thee do penance in the sheet thou 
 shalt be buried in ; abuse my choice, my 
 two-to-one ! 
 
 Aga. No, unkind villain, I'll deceive thee 
 
 yet, 
 
THE OLD LAW. 
 
 583 
 
 I have a reprieve for five years of life ; 
 I am with child. 
 
 Court, Cud so, Gnotho, I'll not tarry so 
 long ; five years ! I may bury two husbands 
 by that time. 
 
 Gnoth. Alas ! give the poor woman leave 
 to talk, she with child ! ay, with a puppy : 
 as long as I have thee by me, she shall not 
 be with child, I warrant thee. 
 
 Aga. The law, and thou, and all, shall 
 find I am with child. 
 
 Gnoth. I'll take my corporal oath I begat 
 it not, and then thou diest for adultery. 
 
 Aga. No matter, that will ask some time 
 in the proof. 
 
 Gnoth. Oh ! you'd be stoned to death, 
 would you ? all old women would die o' that 
 fashion with all their hearts ; but the law 
 shall overthrow you the other way, first. 
 
 Court. Indeed, if it be so, I will not linger 
 so long, Gnotho. 
 
 Gnoth. Away, away ! some botcher has 
 got it ; 'tis but a cushion, I warrant thee : 
 the old woman is loth to depart; she never 
 sung other tune in her life. 
 
 Court. We will not have our noses bored 
 with a cushion, if it be so. 
 
 Gnoth. Go, go thy ways, thou old alma- 
 nack at the twenty-eighth day of December, 
 e'en almost out of date ! Down on thy 
 knees, and make thee ready ; sell some of 
 thy clothes to buy thee a death's head, and 
 put upon thy middle finger : your least con- 
 sidering bawd does so n>uch ; be not thou 
 worse, though thou art an old woman, as 
 she is : I am cloy'd with old stock-fish, 
 here's a young perch is sweeter meat by 
 half ; prithee, die before thy day, if thou 
 canst, that thou mayst not be counted a 
 witch. 
 
 Aga. No, thou art a witch, and I'll prove 
 it ; I said I was with child, thou knew'st no 
 other but by sorcery : thou said'st it was a 
 cushion, and so it is ; thou art a witch for't, 
 I'll be sworn to't. 
 
 Gnoth. Ha, ha, ha.! I told thee 'twas a 
 cushion. Go, get thy sheet ready ; we'll see 
 thee buried as we go to church to be mar- 
 ried. [Exeunt Gnotho and Courtezan. 
 
 Aga. Nay, I'll follow thee, and shew my- 
 self a wife. I'll plague thee as long as I live 
 with thee ; and I'll bury some money before 
 I die, that my ghost may haunt thee after- 
 ward. [Exit. 
 
 SCENE II. The Country. A Forest. 
 
 Enter Cleanthes. 
 
 Clean. What's that ? oh, nothing but the 
 whispering wind 
 
 Breathes through yon churlish hawthorn, that 
 
 grew rude, 
 
 As if it chid the gentle breath that kiss'd it. 
 I cannot be too circumspect, too careful ; 
 For in these woods lies hid all my life's 
 
 treasure, 
 
 Which is too much never to fear to lose, 
 Though it be never lost : and if our watch- 
 fulness 
 
 Ought to be wise and serious 'gainst a thief 
 That comes to steal our goods, things all 
 
 without us, 
 
 That prove vexation often more than com- 
 fort ; 
 
 How mighty ought our providence to be, 
 To prevent those, if any such there were, 
 That come to rob our bosom of our joys, 
 That only make poor man delight to live ! 
 Pshaw ! I'm tco fearful fie, fie ! who can 
 
 hurt me? 
 
 But 'tis a general cowardice, that shakes 
 The nerves of confidence ; he that hides 
 
 treasure, 
 
 Imagines every one thinks of that place, 
 When 'tis a thing least minded ; nay, let 
 
 him change 
 
 The place continually ; where'er it keeps, 
 There will the fear keep still : yonder 's the 
 
 storehouse 
 
 Of all my comfort now and see ! it sends 
 forth 
 
 Enter Hippolita, from the wood. 
 
 A dear one to me : Precious chief of 
 
 women, 
 How does the good old soul? has he fed 
 
 well ? 
 Hip. Beshrew me, sir, he made the 
 
 heartiest meal to day 
 Much good may't do his health. 
 
 Clean. A blessing on thee, 
 Both for thy news and wish ! 
 
 Hip. His stomach, sir, 
 Is better'd wondrously, since his conceal- 
 ment. 
 Clean. Heaven has a blessed work in't. 
 
 Come, we are safe here ; 
 I prithee call him forth, the air's much whole- 
 
 somer. 
 Hip. Father ! 
 
 Enter Leonides. 
 
 Leon. How sweetly sounds the voice of a 
 
 good woman ! 
 
 It is so seldom heard, that, when it speaks, 
 It ravishes all senses. Lists of honour ! 
 I've a joy weeps to see you, 'tis so full, 
 So fairly fruitful. 
 
 Clean. I hope to see you often and return 
 
1584 
 
 THE OLD LAW. 
 
 ^Loaded with blesssings, still to pour on 
 
 some ; 
 
 I find them all in my contented peace, 
 And lose not one in thousands, they are dis- 
 
 perst 
 So gloriously, I know not which are 
 
 brightest. 
 
 I find them, as angels are found, by legions : 
 First, in the love and honesty of a wife, 
 Which is the chiefest of all temporal bless- 
 ings ; 
 
 Next in yourself, which is the hope and joy 
 Of all my actions, my affairs, my wishes ; 
 And lastly, which crowns all, I find my soul 
 Crown'd with the peace of them, the eternal 
 
 riches, 
 
 Man's only portion for his heavenly mar- 
 riage ! 
 Leon. Rise, thou art all obedience, love, 
 
 and goodness. 
 
 I dare say that which thousand fathers can- 
 not, 
 
 And that's my precious comfort, never son 
 Was in the way more of celestial rising : 
 Thou art so made of such ascending virtue, 
 That all the powers of hell can't sink thee. 
 [A horn sounded within. 
 Clean. Ha! 
 
 Leon. What was't disturb'd my joy? 
 Clean. Did you not hear, 
 As afar off? 
 
 Leon. What, my excellent comfort ? 
 Clean. Nor you? 
 
 Hip. I heard a [A horn. 
 
 Clean. Hark, again! 
 Leon. Bless my joy, 
 What ails it on a sudden ? 
 Clean. Now? since lately? 
 Leon. 'Tis nothing but a symptom of thy 
 
 care, man. 
 
 Clean. Alas ! you do not hear well. 
 Leon. What was't, daughter? 
 Hip. I heard a sound, twice. [A horn. 
 Clean. Hark ! louder and nearer : 
 In, for the precious good of virtue, quick, 
 
 sir! 
 
 Louder and nearer yet ! at hand, at hand ! 
 [Exit Leonides. 
 
 A hunting here ? 'tis strange ! I never knew 
 Game followed in these woods before. 
 
 Enter Evander, Simonides, Courtiers, 
 and Cratilus. 
 
 Hip. Now let them come, and spare not. 
 Clean. Ha ! 'tis is't not the duke ? look 
 
 sparingly. 
 Hip. 'Tis he, but what of that ? alas, take 
 
 heed, sir, 
 your care will overthrow us. 
 
 Clean. Come, it shall not : 
 Let's set a pleasant face upon our fears, 
 Though our hearts shake with horror. Ha, 
 
 ha, ha ! 
 Evan. Hark ! 
 Clean. Prithee, proceed ; 
 I am taken with these light things infinitely, 
 Since the old man's decease ; ha ! so they 
 
 parted ? ha, ha, ha ! 
 Evan. Why, how should I believe this ? 
 
 look, he's merry 
 As if he had no such charge : one with that 
 
 care 
 
 Could never be so ; still he holds his temper, 
 And 'tis the same still (with no difference) 
 He brought his father's corpse to the grave 
 
 with ; 
 He laugh'd thus then, you know. 
 
 i Court. Ay, he may laugh, 
 That shews but how he glories in his cunning ; 
 And is, perhaps, done more to advance his 
 
 wit, 
 
 That only he has over-reach 'd the law, 
 Than to express affection to his father. 
 Sim. He tells you right, my lord, his own 
 
 cousin-german 
 
 Reveal'ditfirsttome ; afree-tonguedwoman, 
 And very excellent at telling secrets. 
 Evan. If a contempt can be so neatly 
 
 carried, 
 It gives me cause of wonder. 
 
 Sim. Troth, my lord, 
 Twill prove a delicate cozening, I believe : 
 I'd have no scrivener offer to come near it. 
 Evan. Cleanthes. 
 Clean. My loved lord. 
 Evan. Not moved a whit, 
 Constant to lightness still ! 'Tis strange to 
 
 meet you 
 
 Upon a ground so unfrequented, sir: 
 This does not fit your passion ; you're for 
 
 mirth, 
 
 Or I mistake you much. 
 Clean. But finding it 
 Grow to a noted imperfection in me, 
 For anything too much is vicious, 
 I come to these disconsolate walks, of pur- 
 pose, 
 
 Only to dull and take away the edge on't. 
 I ever had a greater zeal to sadness, 
 A natural propension, I confess, 
 Before that cheerful accident fell out 
 If I may call a father's funeral cheerful, 
 Without wrong done to duty or my love. 
 Evan. It seems, then, you take pleasure 
 
 in these walks, sir. 
 Clean. Contemplative content I do, my 
 
 lord: 
 They bring into my mind oft meditations 
 
THE OLD LAW. 
 
 585 
 
 So sweetly precious, that, in the parting, 
 I find a shower of grace upon my cheeks, 
 They take their leave so feelingly. 
 Evan. So, sir! 
 Clean, Which is a kind of grave delight, 
 
 my lord. 
 Evan. And I've small cause, Cleanthes, 
 
 to afford you 
 
 The least delight that has a name. 
 Clean. My lord ! 
 Sim. Now it begins to fadge. 
 I Court. Peace ! thou art so greedy, Sim. 
 Evan. In your excess of joy you have ex- 
 press 'd 
 
 Your rancour and contempt against my law : 
 Your smiles deserve a fining ; you have pro- 
 
 fess'd 
 
 Derision openly, e'en to my face, 
 Which might be death, a little more in- 
 censed. 
 
 You do not come for any freedom here, 
 But for a project of your own : 
 But all that's known to be contentful to thee, 
 Shall in the use prove deadly. Your life's 
 
 mine, 
 
 If ever your presumption do but lead you 
 Into these walks again, ay, or that woman ; 
 I'll have them watched o' purpose. 
 
 [Cleanthes retires from the wood, fol- 
 io-wed by Hippolita. 
 I Court. Now, now, his colour ebbs and 
 
 flows. 
 
 Sim. Mark hers too. 
 Hip. Oh, who shall bring food to the poor 
 
 old man, now ! 
 :Speak somewhat, good sir, or we're lost for 
 
 ever. 
 Clean. Oh, you did wonderous ill to call 
 
 me again. 
 
 There are not words to help us ; if I entreat, 
 'Tis found ; that will betray us worse than 
 
 silence : 
 
 Prithee let heaven alone, and let's say nothing, 
 i Cvurt. You have struck them dumb, my 
 
 lord. 
 
 Sim. Look how guilt looks ! 
 I would not have that fear upon my flesh, 
 'To save ten fathers. 
 
 Clean. He is safe still, is he not? 
 Hip. Oh, you do ill to doubt it. 
 Clean. Thou art all goodness. 
 Sim. Now does your grace believe ? 
 Evan. 'Tis too apparent. 
 "Search, make a speedy searcli ; for the im- 
 posture 
 
 Cannot be far off, by the fear it sends. 
 Clean. Ha! 
 
 Sim. He has the lapwing's cunning, I am 
 afraid, 
 
 That cries most when she's furthest from the 
 
 nest. 
 
 Clean. Oh, we are betray 'd. 
 Hip. Betray'd, sir ! 
 Sim. See, my lord, 
 It comes out more and more still. 
 
 [Simonides and Courtiers enter the 
 
 wood. 
 
 Clean. Bloody thief ! 
 
 Come from that place ; 'tis sacred, homicide ! 
 'Tis not for thy adulterate hands to touch it. 
 
 Hip. Oh miserable virtue, what distress 
 Art thou in at this minute ! 
 
 Clean. Help me, thunder, 
 For my power's lost ! angels, shoot plagues, 
 
 and help me ! 
 
 Why are these men in health, and I so heart- 
 sick? 
 
 Or why should nature have that power in me 
 To levy up a thousand bleeding sorrows, 
 And not one comfort ? only make me lie 
 Like the poor mockery of an earthquake 
 
 here, 
 
 Panting with horror, 
 
 And have not so much force in all my ven- 
 geance, 
 To shake a villain off me. 
 
 Re-enter Simonides and Courtiers with 
 Leonid es. 
 
 Hip. Use him gently, 
 And heaven will love you for-it. 
 
 Clean. Father ! oh father ! now I see thee 
 
 full 
 
 In thy affliction ; thou'rt a man of sorrow, 
 But reverendly becom'st it, that's my com- 
 fort : 
 
 Extremity was never better graced, 
 Than with that look of thine ; oh ! let me 
 
 look still, 
 
 For I shall lose it ; all my joy and strength 
 
 [Kneels. 
 
 Is e'en eclipsed together : I transgress'd 
 Your law, my lord, let me receive the sting 
 
 on't : 
 
 Be once just, sir, and let the offender die : 
 He's innocent in all, and I am guilty. 
 Leon. Your grace knows, when affection 
 
 only speaks, 
 
 Truth is not always there ; his love would draw 
 An undeserved misery on his youth, 
 And wrong a peace resolv'd, on both parts 
 
 sinful. 
 
 'Tis I am guilty of my own concealment, 
 And, like a worldly coward, injured heaven 
 With fear to go to't : now I see my fault, 
 I am prepared with joy to suffer for it. 
 Evan. Go, give him quick dispatch, let 
 
 him see death : 
 
THE OLD LAW. 
 
 And your presumption, sir, shall come to 
 judgment. 
 
 [Exeunt Evander, Courtiers, Simo- 
 nides; aWCratilus ?'////- Leonides. 
 
 Hip. He's going ! oh, he's gone, sir ! 
 
 Clean. T^et me rise. 
 
 Hip. Why do you not then, and follow ? 
 
 Clean. I strive for it, 
 
 Is there no hand of pity that will ease me, 
 And take this villain from my heart awhile? 
 
 [gists. 
 
 Hip. Alas ! he's gone. 
 
 Clean. A worse supplies his place then, 
 A weight more ponderous ; I cannot follow. 
 
 Hip. Oh misery of affliction ! 
 
 Clean. They will stay 
 
 Till I can come ; they must be so good ever, 
 Though they be ne'er so cruel : 
 My last leave must be taken, think of that, 
 And his last blessing given ; I will not lose 
 That for a thousand consorts. 
 
 Hip. That hope's wretched. 
 
 Clean. The unutterable stings of fortune ! 
 All griefs are to be borne save this alone, 
 This, like a headlong torrent, overturns 
 The frame of nature : 
 For he that gave us life first, as a father, 
 Locks all his natural sufferings in our blood, 
 The sorrows that he feels are our heart's too, 
 They are incorporate to us. 
 
 Hip. Noble sir ! 
 
 Clean. Let me behold thee well. 
 
 Hip. Sir ! 
 
 Clean. Thou should'st be good, 
 Or thou'rt a dangerous substance to be 
 
 lodged 
 So near the heart of man. 
 
 Hip. What means this, dear sir ? 
 
 Clean. To thy trust only was this blessed 
 
 secret 
 
 Kindly committed, 'tis destroy 'd, thou seest ; 
 What follows to be thought on't ? 
 
 Hip. Miserable! 
 
 Why, here's the unhappiness of woman still ; 
 That, having forfeited in old times her trust, 
 Now makes their faiths suspected that are 
 just. 
 
 Clean. What shall I say to all my sorrows 
 
 then, 
 That look for satisfaction ? 
 
 Enter Eugenia. 
 
 Eug. Ha, ha, ha ! cousin. 
 
 Clean. How ill dost thou become this 
 
 time ! 
 
 Eug. Ha, ha, ha ! 
 Why, that's but your opinion ; a young 
 
 wench 
 Becomes the time at all times. 
 
 Now, coz, we are even : an you be remem- 
 
 ber'd, 
 
 You left a strumpet and a whore with me, 
 And such fine field-bed words, which could 
 
 not cost you 
 Less than a father. 
 
 Clean. Is it come that way ? 
 Eug. Had you an uncle, 
 He should go the same way too. 
 
 Clean. Oh eternity, 
 
 What monster is this fiend in labour with ? 
 Eug. An ass-colt with two heads, that's 
 
 she and you : 
 
 I will not lose so glorious a revenge, 
 Not to be understood in't ; I betray'd him ; 
 And now we are even, you'd best keep you so. 
 Clean. Is there not poison yet enough to 
 
 kill me ? 
 Hip. Oh, sir, forgive me ; it was I betray'd 
 
 him. 
 
 Clean. How! 
 Hip. I. 
 Clean. The fellow of my heart ! 'twill speed 
 
 me, then. 
 Hip. Her tears that never wept, and mine 
 
 own pity 
 
 Even cozen'd me together, and stole from me 
 This secret, which fierce death should not 
 
 have purchased. 
 Clean. Nay, then we are at an end ; ail 
 
 we are false ones, 
 
 And ought to suffer. I was false to wisdom, 
 In trusting woman ; thou wert false to faith, 
 In uttering of the secret ; and thou false 
 To goodness, in deceiving such a pity : 
 We are all tainted some way, but thou worst, 
 And for thy infectious spots ought'st to die 
 first. [Offers to kill Eugenia. 
 
 Eug. Pray turn your weapon, sir, upon. 
 
 your mistress, 
 I come not so ill friended : rescue, servants ! 
 
 Re-enter Simonides and Courtiers. 
 Clean. Are you so whorishly provided ? 
 Sim. Yes, sir, 
 She has more weapons at command thar* 
 
 one. 
 Eug. Put forward, man, thou art most 
 
 sure to have me. 
 Sim. I shall be surer, if I keep behind, 
 
 though. 
 
 Eug. Now, servants, shew your loves. 
 Sim. I'll shew my love, too, afar off. 
 Eug. I love to be so courted, woo me 
 
 there. 
 Sim. I love to keep good weapons, 
 
 though ne'er fought with. 
 I'm sharper set within than I am without. 
 Hip. Oh gentlemen ! Cleanthes ! 
 
THE OLD LAW. 
 
 587' 
 
 Eug. Fight ! upon him ! 
 
 Clean. Thy thirst of blood proclaims thee 
 
 now a strumpet. 
 Eug. Tis dainty, next to procreation 
 
 fitting ; 
 I'd either be destroying men or getting. 
 
 Enter Guard. 
 
 i Officer. Forbear, on your allegiance, 
 
 gentlemen. 
 He's the duke's prisoner, and we seize upon 
 
 him 
 To answer this contempt against the law. 
 
 Clean. I obey fate in all things. 
 
 Hip. Happy rescue ! 
 
 Sim. I would you'd seized upon him a 
 minute sooner, it had saved me a cut finger : 
 I wonder how T came by't, for I never put 
 my hand forth, I'm sure ; I think my own 
 sword did cut it, if truth were known ; may 
 be the wire in the handle : I have lived 
 these five and twenty years and never knew 
 what colour my blood was before. I never 
 durst eat oysters, nor cut peck-loaves. 
 
 Eug. You've shewn your spirits, gentle- 
 men ; but you 
 Have cut your finger. 
 
 Sim. Ay, the wedding-finger too, a pox 
 on't ! 
 
 Court. You'll prove a bawdy bachelor, 
 Sim, to have a cut upon your finger, before 
 you are married. 
 
 Sim. I'll never draw sword again, to have 
 such a jest put upon me. . {Exeunt. 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 SCENE I. A Court of Justice. 
 Enter Simonides and Courtiers, sword and 
 
 mace carried before them. 
 Sim. Be ready with your prisoner ; we'll 
 
 sit instantly, 
 
 And rise before eleven, or when we please ; 
 Shall we not, fellow-judges ? 
 
 1 Court. 'Tis committed 
 
 All to our power, censure, and pleasure, 
 
 now ; 
 The duke hath made us chief lords of this 
 
 sessions, 
 
 And we may speak by fits, or sleep by turns. 
 Sim. Leave that to us, but, whatsoe'er 
 
 we do, 
 
 The prisoner shall be sure to be condemn'd ; 
 Sleeping or waking, we are resolved on that, 
 Before we sit upon him ! 
 
 2 Court. Make you question 
 
 If not ? Cleanthes ! and an enemy ! 
 
 Nay a concealer of his father too ! 
 
 A vile example in these days of youth. 
 Sim. If they were given to follow such 
 examples ; 
 
 But sure I think they are not : howsoever, 
 
 'Twas wickedly attempted ; that's my judg- 
 ment, 
 
 And it shall pass whilst I am in power to sit. 
 
 Never by prince were such young judges 
 made, 
 
 But now the cause requires it : if you mark it, 
 
 He must make young or none ; for all the 
 old ones 
 
 He hath sent a fishing and my father's one, 
 
 I humbly thank his highness. 
 
 Enter Eugenia. 
 
 i Court. Widow ! 
 
 Eug. You almost hit my name now, gen- 
 tlemen ; 
 
 You come so wonderous near it, I admire you 
 For your judgment. 
 Sim. My wife that must be ! She. 
 Eug. My husband goes upon his last hour 
 now. 
 
 1 Court. On his last legs, I am sure. 
 Sim. September the seventeenth 
 
 I will not bate an hour on't, and to-morrow 
 His latest hour's expired. 
 
 2 Coiirt. Bring him to judgment ; 
 The jury's panell'd, and the verdict given 
 Ere he appears ; we have ta'en a course for 
 
 that. 
 Sim. And officers to attach the gray young 
 
 man, 
 The youth of fourscore : Be of comfort, 
 
 lady, 
 
 You shall no longer bosom January ; 
 For that I will take order, and provide 
 For you a lusty April. 
 
 Eug. The month that ought, indeed, 
 To go before May. 
 
 i Court. Do as we have said, 
 Take a strong guard, and bring him into 
 
 court. 
 
 Lady Eugenia, see this charge performed, 
 That, having his life forfeited by the law, 
 He may relieve his soul. 
 
 Eug. Willingly. 
 
 From shaven chins never came better justice 
 Than these ne'er touch'd by razor. [Exit. 
 
 Sim. What you do, 
 
 Do suddenly, we charge you, for we purpose 
 To make but a short sessions : a new 
 business ! 
 
 Enter Hippolita. 
 
 i Court. The fair Hippolita ! now what's 
 your suit ? 
 
-588 
 
 THE OLD LAW. 
 
 Hip. Alas ! I know not how to style you 
 
 yet; 
 
 To call you judges doth not suit your years, 
 j Nor heads and beards shew more an- 
 tiquity ; 
 
 '; Yet sway yourselves with equity and truth, 
 And I'll proclaim you reverend, and repeat 
 Once in my lifetime 1 have seen grave heads 
 Placed upon young men's shoulders. 
 
 2 Court. Hark ! she flouts us, 
 And thinks to make us monstrous. 
 
 Hip. Prove not so ; 
 For yet, methinks, you bear the shapes of 
 
 men ; 
 (Though nothing more than merely beauty 
 
 serves 
 To make you appear angels,) but if you 
 
 crimson 
 Your name and power with blood and 
 
 cruelty, 
 
 Suppress fair virtue, and enlarge bold vice, 
 Both against heaven and nature, draw your 
 
 sword, 
 
 Make either will or humour turn the soul 
 Of your created greatness, and in that 
 = Oppose all goodness, I must tell you there 
 You are more than monstrous ; in the very 
 
 act, 
 You change yourselves to devils. 
 
 1 Court. She's a witch ; 
 Hark ! she begins to conjure. 
 
 Sim. Time, you see, 
 
 Is short, much business now on foot: shall I 
 1 Give her her answer? 
 
 2 Court. None upon the bench, 
 More learnedly can do it. 
 
 Sim. He, he, hem ! then list : 
 
 I wonder at thine impudence, young hus- 
 wife, 
 
 That thou darest plead for such a base 
 offender. 
 
 Conceal a father past his time to die ! 
 
 What son and heir would have done this 
 but he ? 
 
 1 Court. I vow. not I. 
 
 Hip. Because ye are parricides ; 
 And how can comfort be derived from such 
 That pity not their fathers ? 
 
 2 Court. You are fresh and fair ; practise 
 young women's ends ; 
 
 When husbands are distress'd, provide them 
 
 friends. 
 Sim. I'll set him forward for thee without 
 
 fee: 
 
 Some wives would pay for such a courtesy. 
 Hip. Times of amazement ! what duty, 
 
 goodness dwell 
 
 I I sought for charity, but knock at hell. 
 
 [**, 
 
 Re-enter Eugenia, and Guard, with Ly- 
 sander. 
 
 Sim. Eugenia come ! command a second 
 
 guard 
 
 To bring Cleanthes in ; we'll not sit long ; 
 My stomach strives to dinner. 
 
 Bug. Now, servants, may a lady be so bold 
 To call your power so low ? 
 
 Sim. A mistress may, 
 She can make all things low ; then in that 
 
 language 
 There can be no offence. 
 
 Eitg. The time's now come 
 Of manumissions, take him into bonds, 
 And I am then at freedom. 
 
 2 Court. This the man ! 
 He hath left off o' late to feed on snakes ; 
 His beard's turn'd white again. 
 
 1 Court. Is't possible these gouty legs 
 danced lately, 
 
 And shatter'd in a galliard ? 
 
 Eug. Jealousy 
 And fear of death can work strange prodigies. 
 
 2 Court. The nimble fencer this, that 
 made me tear 
 
 And traverse 'bout the chamber ? 
 
 Sim. Ay, atod gave me 
 Those elbow healths, the hangman take him 
 
 for't ! 
 They'd almost fetch 'd my heart out : the 
 
 Dutch what-you-call, 
 
 I swallow'd pretty well ; but the half-pike 
 Had almost pepper'd me ; but had I ta'en 
 
 long-sword, 
 Being swollen, I had cast my lungs out. 
 
 A Flourish. Enter Evander and Cratilus. 
 
 1 Court. Peace, the duke ! 
 
 Evan. Nay, back t' your seats : who's 
 that? 
 
 2 Court. May't please your highness, it is 
 old Lysander. 
 
 Evan. And brought in by his wife ! a 
 
 worthy precedent 
 
 Of one that no way would offend the law, 
 And should not pass away without remark. 
 You have been look'd for long. 
 
 Lys. But never fit 
 
 To die till now, my lord. My sins and I 
 Have been but newly parted ; much ado 
 I had to get them leave me, or be taught 
 That difficult lesson how to learn to die. 
 I never thought there had been such an act, 
 And 'tis the only discipline we are born for : 
 All studies else are but as circular lines, 
 And death the centre where they must all 
 
 meet. 
 I now can look upon thee, erring woman, 
 
THE OLD LAW. 
 
 589 
 
 And not be vex'd with jealousy ; on young 
 
 men, 
 
 And no way envy their delicious health, 
 Pleasure, and strength ; all which were once 
 
 mine own, 
 
 And mine must be theirs one day. 
 Evan. You have tamed him. 
 Sim. And know how to dispose him ; 
 
 that, my liege, 
 
 Hath been before determined. You confess 
 Yourself of full age ? 
 
 Lys. Yes, and prepared to inherit 
 
 Eug. Your place above. 
 Sim. Of which the hangman's strength 
 Shall put him in possession. 
 
 Lys. Tis still cared 
 To take me willing and in mind to die ; 
 And such are, when the earth grows weary 
 
 of them, 
 Most fit for heaven. 
 
 Sim. The court shall make his mittimus, 
 And send him thither presently : \ the mean 
 
 time 
 
 Evan. Away to death with him. 
 
 {Exit Cratilus -with Lysander. 
 
 Enter Guard with Cleanthes, Hippolita 
 following, weeping. 
 
 Sim. So ! see another 'person brought to 
 the bar. 
 
 1 Court. The arch-malefactor. 
 
 2 Court. The grand offender, the most 
 refractory 
 
 To all good order ; 'tis Cleanthes, he 
 
 Sim. That would have sons grave fathers, 
 
 ere their fathers 
 Be sent unto their graves. 
 
 Evan. There will be expectation 
 In your severe proceedings against him ; 
 His act being so capital. 
 
 Sim. Fearful and bloody ; 
 Therefore we charge these women leave the 
 
 court, 
 Lest they should swoon to hear it. 
 
 Eug. I, in expectation 
 Of a most happy freedom. [Exit. 
 
 Hip. I, with the apprehension 
 Of a most sad and desolate widowhood. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 1 Court. We bring him to the bar 
 
 2 Court. Hold up your hand, sir. 
 Clean. More reverence to the place than 
 
 to the persons : 
 
 To the one I offer up a [spreading] palm 
 Of duty and obedience, as to heaven, 
 Imploring justice, which was never wanting 
 Upon that bench whilst their own fathers sat ; 
 But unto you, my hands contracted thus, 
 As threatening vengeance against murderers, 
 
 For they that kill in thought, shed innocent 
 
 blood. 
 
 With pardon of your highness, too much 
 
 passion 
 
 Made me forget your presence, and the place 
 I now am call'd to. 
 
 Evan. All our majesty 
 And power we have to pardon or condemn, 
 Is now conferr'd on them. 
 
 Sim. And these we'll use, 
 Little to thine advantage. 
 
 Clean. I expect it : 
 
 And, as to these, I look no mercy from them, ; . 
 And much less mean to entreat it, I thus now 
 Submit me to the emblems of your power, 
 The sword and bench : but, my most 
 
 reverend judges, 
 
 Ere you proceed to sentence, (for I know 
 You have given me lost,) will you resolve me 
 
 one thing ? 
 
 1 Court. So it be briefly question'd. 
 
 2 Court. Shew your honour ; 
 Day spends itself apace. 
 
 Clean. My lords, it shall. 
 Resolve me, then, where are your filial tears, 
 Your mourning habits, and sad hearts be- 
 come, 
 
 That should attend your fathers' funerals ? 
 Though the strict law (which I will not accuse,. 
 Because a subject) snatch'd away their lives, 
 It doth not bar you to lament their deaths : 
 Or if you cannot spare one sad suspire, 
 It doth not bid you laugh them to their 
 
 graves, 
 
 Lay subtle trains to antedate their years, 
 To be the sooner seized of their estates. 
 Oh, time of age ! where's that ^Eneas now, 
 Who letting all his jewels to the flames ; 
 Forgetting country, kindred, treasure, friends. 
 Fortunes and all things, save the name of son.. 
 Which you so much forget, godlike ^neas, 
 Who took his bedrid father on his back, 
 And with that sacred load (to him no burthen). 
 Hew'd out his way through blood, through 
 
 fire, through [arms,] 
 Even all the arm'd streets of bright-burning. 
 
 Troy, 
 Only to save a father ? 
 
 Sim. We've no leisure now, 
 To hear lessons read from Virgil ; we are part 
 
 school, 
 And all this time thy judges. 
 
 2 Court. It is fit 
 That we proceed to sentence. 
 
 i Court. You are the mouth, 
 And now 'tis fit to open. 
 
 Sim. Justice, indeed, 
 
 Should ever be close-ear'd, and open- 
 mouth'd ; 
 
590 
 
 THE OLD LAW. 
 
 That is to hear a little and speak much. 
 
 Know then, Cleanthes, there is none can be 
 
 A good son and bad subject ; for, if princes 
 ; Be called the people's fathers, then the 
 
 subjects 
 ' Are all his sons, and he that flouts the prince, 
 
 Doth disobey his father : there you are gone. 
 
 1 Court. And not to be recover'd. 
 Sim. And again 
 
 2 Court. If he be gone once, call him not 
 again. 
 
 Sim. I say again, this act of thine expresses 
 A double disobedience : as our princes 
 Are fathers, so they are our sovereigns too ; 
 
 . And he that doth rebel 'gainst sovereignty, 
 Doth commit treason in the height of degree : 
 
 j And now thou art quite gone. 
 
 1 Court. Our brother in commission, 
 
 ; Hath spoke his mind both learnedly and 
 
 neatly, 
 
 And I can add but little ; howsoever, 
 i It shall send him packing. 
 j He that begins a fault that wants example, 
 ! Ought to be made example for the fault. 
 Clean. A fault ! no longer can I hold 
 
 myself 
 
 j To hear vice upheld and virtue thrown down. 
 ! A fault ! judge, I desire, then, where it lies, 
 i In those that are my judges, or in me : 
 i Heaven stands on my side, pity, love, and 
 
 duty. 
 Sim. Where are they, sir ? who sees them 
 
 but yourself? 
 
 Clean. Not you ; and I am sure, 
 I You never had the gracious eyes to see them. 
 You think that you arraign me, but I hope 
 "To sentence you at the bar. 
 
 2 Court. That would shew brave. 
 Clean. This were the judgment-seat we 
 
 [stand at] now ! 
 Of the heaviest crimes that ever made up 
 
 [sin], 
 
 Unnamralness, and inhumanity, 
 You are found foul and guilty, 'by a jury 
 Made of your father's curses, which have 
 
 brought 
 
 Vengeance impending on you ; and I, now, 
 Am forced to pronounce judgment on my 
 
 judges. 
 
 The common laws of reason and of nature 
 Condemn you, ipso facto; you are parricides, 
 And if you marry, will beget the like, 
 W T ho, when they are grown to full maturity, 
 Will hurry you, their fathers, to their graves. 
 Like traitors, you take council from the 
 
 living, 
 
 Of upright judgment you would rob the bench, 
 (Experience and discretion snatch'd away 
 From the earth's face,) turn all into disorder, 
 
 Imprison virtue, and infranchise vice, 
 And put the sword of justice in the hands 
 Of boys and madmen. 
 
 Sim. Well, well, have you done, sir? 
 
 Clean. I have spoke my thoughts. 
 
 Sim. Then I'll begin and end. 
 
 Evan. 'Tis time I now begin 
 Here your commission ends. 
 Cleanthes, come you from the bar. Because 
 I know you are severally disposed, I here 
 Invite you to an object will, no doubt, 
 Work in you contrary effects. Music! 
 
 Loud music. Enter Leonides, Creon, 
 Lysander, and other old men. 
 
 Clean. Pray, heaven, I dream not ! sure 
 
 he moves, talks comfortably, 
 As joy can wish a man. If he be changed, 
 (Far above from me,) he's not ill entreated ; 
 His face doth promise fullness of content, 
 And glory hath a part in't. 
 Leo. Oh my son ! 
 Evan. You that can claim acquaintance 
 
 with these lads, 
 Talk freely. 
 
 Sim. I can see none there that's worth 
 One hand to you from me. 
 Evan. These are thy judges, and by their 
 
 grave law 
 
 I find thee clear, but these delinquents guilty. 
 You must change places, for 'tis so decreed : 
 Such just pre-eminence hath thy goodness 
 
 gain'd, 
 
 Thou art the judge now, they the men 
 arraign'd. [To Cleanthes. 
 
 1 Court. Here's fine dancing, gentlemen. 
 
 2 Court. Is thy father amongst them ? 
 Sim. Oh, pox ! I saw him the first thing 
 
 I look'd on. 
 
 Alive again ! 'slight, I believe now a father 
 Hath as many lives as a mother. 
 
 Clean. 'Tis full as blessed as 'tis wonderful. 
 Oh ! bring me back to the same law again, 
 I am fouler than all these; seize on me, 
 
 officers, 
 And bring me to new sentence. 
 
 Sim. What's all this ? 
 
 Clean. A fault not to be pardon'd, 
 Unnaturalness is but sin's shadow to it. 
 
 Sim. I am glad of that ; I hope the case 
 
 may alter, 
 And I turn judge again. 
 
 Evan. Name your offence. 
 
 Clean. That I should be so vile 
 As once to think you cruel. 
 
 Evan. Is that all ? 
 'Twos pardon'd ere confess'd : you that have 
 
 sons, 
 If they be worthy, here may challenge them. 
 
THE OLD LAW. 
 
 Creon. I should have one amongst them, 
 
 had he had grace 
 To have retained that name. 
 
 Sim. I pray you, father. [Kneels. 
 
 Creon. That name, I know, 
 Hath been long since forgot. 
 
 Sim. I find but small comfort in remem- 
 bering it now. 
 
 Evan. Cleanthes, take your place with 
 
 these grave fathers, 
 And read what in that table is inscribed. 
 
 [Gives him a paper. 
 Now set these at the bar, 
 And read, Cleanthes, to the dread and terror 
 Of disobedience and unnatural blood. 
 
 Clean, [reads.] It is decreed by the grave 
 and learned council of Epire, that no son 
 and heir shall be held capable of his inheri- 
 tance at the age of one and twenty, unless he 
 be at that time as mat^tre in obedience, man- 
 ners, and goodness. 
 
 Sim. Sure I shall never be at full age, 
 then, though I live to an hundred years ; and 
 that's nearer by twenty than the last statute 
 allow 'd. 
 
 i Court. A terrible act ! 
 
 Clean. Moreover, it is enacted that all 
 sons aforesaid, whom either this law, or 
 their own grace, shall reduce into the true 
 method of duty, virtue, and affection, [shall 
 appear before us] and relate their trial and 
 approbation from Cleanthes, the son of 
 Leon ides from me, my lord ! 
 
 Evan. From none but you, as fullest. 
 Proceed, sir. 
 
 Clean. Whom, for his manifest virtues, 
 we make such judge and censor of youth, and 
 the absolute reference of life and manners. 
 
 Sim. This is a bravq world ! when a man 
 should be selling land he must be learning 
 manners. Is't not, my masters? 
 
 Enter Eugenia. 
 
 Ettg. What's here to do ? my suitors at 
 
 the bar ! 
 
 The old band shines again : oh miserable ! 
 
 [She swoons. 
 
 Evan. Read the law over to her, 'twill 
 
 awake her : 
 'Tis one deserves small pity. 
 
 Clean. Lastly, it is ordained, that all such 
 \ -wives now whatsoever, thai shall design their 
 ! husband's death, to be soon rid of them, and 
 entertain suitors in their husbands' life- 
 time 
 
 Sim. You had best read that a little 
 louder ; for, if anything, that will bring her 
 to herself again, and find her tongue. 
 
 Clean. Shall not presume, on the penalty 
 
 of our heavy displeasure, to marry within 
 ten years after. 
 
 Eug. That law's too long by nine years 
 
 and a half, 
 I'll take my death upon't, so shall most 
 
 women. 
 
 Clean. And those incontinent women so 
 offending, 1o be judged and censured by Hip- 
 polita, wife to Cleanthes. 
 
 Eug. Of all the rest, I'll riot be judged by 
 her. 
 
 Re-enter Hippolita. 
 
 Clean. Ah ! here she comes. Let me 
 
 prevent thy joys, 
 
 Prevent them but in part, and hide the rest ; 
 Thou hast not .strength enough to bear them, 
 else. 
 
 Hip. Leonides ! [She faints. 
 
 Clean. I fear'd it all this while ; 
 I knew 'twas past thy power. Hippolita ! 
 What contrariety is in women's blood ! 
 One faints for spleen and anger, she for grace. 
 
 Evan. Of sons and wives we see the 
 
 worst and best. 
 
 May future ages yield Hippolitas 
 Many ; but few like thee, Eugenia ! 
 Let no Simonides henceforth have a fame, 
 But all blest sons live in Cleanthe's name 
 [Harsh music within. 
 
 Ha ! what strange kind of melody was that? 
 Yet give it entrance, whatsoe'er it be, 
 This day is all devote to liberty. 
 
 Enter Fiddlers, Gnotho, Courtezan, Cook, 
 Butler, &c., with the Old Women, Agatha, 
 and one bearing a bridecake for the wed- 
 ding. 
 
 Gnoth. Fiddlers, crowd on, crowd on ; let 
 no man lay a block in your way. Crowd on, 
 I say. 
 
 Evan. Stay the crowd awhile ; let's know 
 the reason of this jollity. 
 
 Clean. Sirrah, do youknow where you are? 
 
 Gnoth. Yes, sir ; I am here, now here, 
 and now here again, sir. 
 
 Lys. Your hat is too high crown'd, the 
 duke in presence. 
 
 Gnoth. The duke ! as he is my sovereign, 
 I do give him two crowns for it, and that's 
 equal change all the world over : as I am 
 lord of the day (being my marriage-day the 
 second) I do advance my bonnet. Crowd on 
 afore. 
 
 Leon. Good sir, a few words, if you will 
 
 vouchsafe them ; 
 Or will you be forced ? 
 
 Gnoth. Forced! I would the duke himself 
 would say so. 
 
592 
 
 THE OLD LAW. 
 
 Evan. I think he dares, sir, and does ; if 
 
 you stay not, 
 You shall be forced. 
 
 Gnoth. I think so, my lord, and good 
 reason too ; shall not I stay when your grace 
 says I shall? I were unworthy to be a bride- 
 groom in any part of your highness's do- 
 minions, then : will it please you to taste of 
 the wedlock-courtesy ? 
 
 Evan. Oh, by no means, sir ; you shall not 
 deface so fair an ornament for me. 
 
 Gnoth. If your grace please to be cakated, 
 say so. 
 
 Evan. And which might be your fair 
 bride, sir? 
 
 Gnoth. This is my two-for-one that must 
 be the uxor uxoris, the remedy doloris, and 
 the very syceum amoris. 
 
 Evan. 'And hast thou any else? 
 
 Gnoth. I have an older, my lord, for 
 other uses. 
 
 Clean. My lord, 
 
 I do observe a strange decorum here : 
 These that do lead this day of jollity, 
 Do march with music and most mirthful 
 
 cheeks ; 
 
 Those that do follow, sad, and woefully, 
 Nearer the haviour of a funeral, 
 Than of a wedding. 
 
 Evan. 'Tis true ; pray expound that, sir. 
 
 Gnoth. As the destiny of the day falls out, 
 my lord, one goes to wedding, another goes 
 to hanging ; and your grace, in the due con- 
 sideration, shall find them much^.1 ike ; the one 
 hath the ring upon her finger, the other the 
 halter about her neck. / take thee, Beatrice, 
 says the bridegroom ; / take thee, Agatha, 
 says the hangman ; and both say together, to 
 have and to hold, till death do part us. 
 
 Evan. This is not yet plain enough to my 
 understanding. 
 
 Gnoih. If further your grace examine it, 
 you shall find I shew myself a dutiful sub- 
 ject, and obedient to the law, myself, with 
 these my good friends, and your good sub- 
 jects, our old wives, whose days are ripe, 
 and their lives forfeit to the law : only 
 myself, more forward than the rest, am 
 already provided of my second choice. 
 
 Evan. Oh ! take heed, sir, you'll run 
 
 yourself into danger ; 
 
 If the law finds you with two wives at once, 
 There's a shrewd premunire. 
 
 Gnoth. I have taken leave of the old, my 
 lord. I have nothing to say to her ; she's 
 going to sea, your grace knows whither, 
 better than I do : she has a strong wind 
 with her, it stands full in her poop ; when 
 you please, let her disembcgue. 
 
 Cook. And the rest of her neighbours with 
 her, whom we present to the satisfaction of 
 your highness' law. 
 
 Gnoth. And so we take our leaves, and 
 leave them to your highness. Crowd on. 
 
 Evan. Stay, stay, you are too forward. Will 
 
 you marry, 
 And your wife yet living? 
 
 Gnoth. Alas ! she'll be dead before we can 
 get to church. If your grace would set her 
 in the way, I would dispatch her : I have a 
 venture on't, which would return me, if 
 your highness would make a little more 
 haste, two for one. 
 
 Evan. Come, my lords, we must sit again ; 
 
 here's a case 
 Craves a most serious censure. 
 
 Cook. Now they shall be dispatch 'd out of 
 the way. 
 
 Gnoth. I would they were gone once ; the 
 time goes away. 
 
 Evan. Which is "the wife unto the forward 
 bridegroom ? 
 
 Aga. I am, an it please your grace. 
 
 Evan. Trust me, a lusty woman, able- 
 bodied, 
 And well-blooded cheeks. 
 
 Gnoth. Oh, she paints, my lord ; she was 
 a chambermaid once, and learn'd it of her 
 lady. 
 
 Evan. Sure I think she cannot be so old. 
 
 Aga. Truly I think so too, an't please 
 your grace. 
 
 Gnoth. Two to one with your grace of 
 that ! she's threescore by the book. 
 
 Leon. Peace, sirrah, you are too loud. 
 
 Cook. Take heed, Gnotho : if you move 
 the duke's patience, 'tis an edge-tool ; but a 
 word and a blow, he cuts off your head. 
 
 Gnoth. Cutoff my head ! away, ignorant ! 
 he knows it cost more in the hair ; he does- 
 not use to cut off many such heads as mine : 
 I will talk to him too ; if he cut off my head, 
 I'll give him my ears. I say my wife is at 
 full age for the law, the clerk shall take his 
 oath, and the church-book shall be sworn 
 too. 
 
 E'san. Mylords, I leave this censure to you. 
 
 Leon. Then first, this fellow does deserve 
 
 punishment, 
 
 For offering up a lusty able woman, 
 Which may do service to the common- 
 wealth, 
 
 Where the law craves one impotent and use- 
 less. 
 
 Crcon. Therefore to be severely punished, 
 For thus attempting a second marriage, 
 His wife yet living. 
 
 Lys. Nay, to have it trebled ; 
 
THE OLD LAW. 
 
 593 
 
 That even the day and instant when he 
 
 should mourn, 
 
 As a kind husband, at her funeral, 
 He leads a triumph to the scorn of it ; 
 Which unseasonable joy ought to be punish'd 
 With all severity. 
 
 But. The fiddles will be in a foul case too, 
 by and by. 
 
 Leon. Nay, further ; it seems he has a 
 
 venture 
 
 Of two for one at his second marriage, 
 Which cannot be but a conspiracy 
 Against the former. 
 
 Gnoth. A mess of wise old men ! 
 
 Lys. Sirrah, what can you answer to all 
 these ? 
 
 Gnoth. Ye are good old men, and talk as 
 .age will give you leave. I would speak 
 with the youthful duke himself ; he and I 
 may speak of things that shall be thirty or 
 forty years after you are dead and rotten. 
 Alas ! you are here to-day, and gone to sea 
 to-morrow. 
 
 Evan. In troth, sir, then I must be plain 
 
 with you. 
 The law that should take away your old 
 
 wife from you, 
 
 The which I do perceive was your desire, 
 Is void and frustrate ; so for the rest : 
 There has been since another parliament, 
 Has cut it off. 
 
 Gnoth. I see your grace is disposed to be 
 pleasant. 
 
 Evan. Yes, you might perceive that ; I 
 
 had not else 
 Thus dallied with your follies. 
 
 Gnoth. I'll talk further with your grace 
 when I come back from church ; in the mean 
 time, you know what to do with the old 
 women. 
 
 Evan. Stay, sir, unless in the mean time 
 
 you mean 
 
 I cause a gibbet to be set up in your way, 
 And hang you at your return. 
 
 Aga. O gracious prince ! 
 
 Evan. Your old wives cannot die to-day 
 "by any law of mine ; for aught I can say to 
 them, 
 
 They may, by a new edict, buiy you, 
 And then, perhaps, you'll pay a new fine too. 
 
 Gnoth. This is fine, indeed ! 
 
 Aga. O gracious prince ! may he live a 
 hundred years more. 
 
 Cook. Your venture is not like to come in 
 to-day, Gnotho. 
 
 Gnoth. Orve me the principal back. 
 
 Cook. Nay, by my troth, we'll venture still 
 and I'm sure we have as ill a venture of 
 it as you ; for we have taken old wives of 
 
 purpose, that we had thought to have put 
 away at this market, and now we cannot 
 utter a pennyworth. 
 
 Evan. Well, sirrah, you were best to dis- 
 charge your new charge, and take your old 
 one to you. 
 
 Gnoth. Oh music ! no music, but prove 
 
 most doleful trumpet ; 
 Oh bride ! no bride, but thou mayst ptove 
 
 a strumpet ; 
 Oh venture ! no venture, I have, for one, 
 
 now none ; 
 Oh wife ! thy life is saved when I hoped it 
 
 had been gone. 
 Case up your fruitless strings ; no penny, no 
 
 wedding ; 
 Case up thy maidenhead ; no priest, no 
 
 bedding : 
 
 A vaunt, my venture ! ne'er to be restored, 
 Till Ag, my old wife, be thrown overboard : 
 Then come again, old Ag, since it must 
 
 be so ; 
 
 Let bride and venture with woful music go. 
 Cook. What for the bridecake, Gnotho ? 
 Gnoth. Let it be mouldy, now 'tis out of 
 
 season, 
 
 Let it grow out of date, currant, and reason ; 
 Let it be chipt and chopt, and given to 
 
 chickens. 
 No more is got by that, than William 
 
 Dickins 
 
 Got by his wooden dishes. 
 Put up your plums, as fiddlers put up pipes, 
 The wedding dash'd, the bridegroom weeps 
 
 and wipes. 
 
 Fiddlers, farewell ! and now, without perhaps, 
 Put up your fiddles as you put up scraps. 
 
 Lys. This passion has given some satis- 
 faction yet. My lord, I think you'll pardon 
 him now, with all the rest, so they live 
 honestly with the wives they have. 
 
 Evan. Oh ! most freely ; free pardon to all. 
 
 Cook. Ay, we have deserved our pardons, 
 
 if we can live honestly with such reverend 
 
 wives, that have no motion in them but their 
 
 tongues. 
 
 Aga. Heaven bless your grace ! you are a 
 just prince. 
 
 Gnoth. All hopes dash'd ; the clerk's 
 
 duties lost, 
 
 My venture gone; my second wife divorced; 
 And which is worst, 'the old one come back 
 
 again ! 
 
 Such voyages are made now-a-days ! 
 Besides these two fountains of fresh water, 
 I will weep two salt out of my nose. Your 
 grace had been more kind to your young 
 iubjects heaven bless and mend yonr laws, 
 that they do not gull your poor com., vy men: 
 QQ 
 
594 
 
 THE OLD LAW. 
 
 but I am not the first, by forty, that has 
 been undone by the law. Tis but a folly to 
 stand upon terms ; I take my leave of your 
 grace, as well as mine eyes will give me 
 leave : I would they had been asleep in their 
 beds when they opened them to see this day ! 
 Come Ag, come Ag. 
 
 [Exeunt Gnotho and Agatha. 
 
 Crcon. Were not you all my servants ? 
 
 Cook. During your life, as we thought, 
 sir ; but our young master turn'd us away. 
 
 Creon. How headlong, villain, wert thou 
 in thy ruin ! 
 
 Si'm. I followed the fashion, sir, as other 
 young men did. If you were as we thought 
 you had been, we should ne'er have come 
 for this, I warrant you. We did not feed, 
 after the old fashion, on beef and mutton, 
 and such like. 
 
 Creon. Well, what damage or charge you 
 have run yourselves into by marriage, I 
 cannot help, nor deliver you from your 
 wives ; them you must keep ; yourselves 
 shall again return to me. 
 
 All. We thank your lordship for your 
 love, and must thank ourselves for our bad 
 bargains. [Exeunt. 
 
 Evan. Clean thes, you delay the power of 
 
 law, 
 
 To be inflicted on these misgovern'd men, 
 That filial duty have so far transgrcss'd. 
 
 Clean. My lord, I see a satisfaction 
 Meeting the sentence, even preventing it, 
 Beating my words back in their utterance. 
 See, sir, there's salt sorrow bringing forth 
 
 fresh 
 And new duties, as the sea propagates. 
 
 The elephants have found their joints too 
 
 {They kneel. 
 
 Why, here's humility able to bind up 
 The punishing hands of the severest masters, 
 Much more the gentle fathers'. 
 
 Sim. I had ne'er thought to have been 
 brought so low as my knees again ; but since 
 there's no remedy, fathers, reverend fathers, 
 as you ever hope to have good sons and 
 heirs, a handful of pity ! we confess we have 
 deserved more than we are willing to receive 
 at your hands, though sons can never de- 
 serve too much of their fathers, as shall 
 appear afterwards. 
 
 Crcon. And what way can you decline 
 
 your feeding now ? 
 
 You cannot retire to beeves and muttons 
 sure. 
 
 Sim. Alas ! sir, you see a good pattern 
 for that, now we have laid by our high and 
 lusty meats, and are down to our marrow- 
 bones already. 
 
 Crcon. Well, sir, rise to virtues : we'll 
 bind you now ; [They rise. 
 
 You that were too weak yourselves to govern, 
 By others shall be govern'd. 
 
 Lys. Cleanthes, 
 
 I meet your justice with reconcilement : 
 If there be tears of faith in woman's breast, 
 I have received a myriad, which confirms me 
 To find a happy renovation. 
 
 Clean. Here's virtue's throne, 
 Which I'll embellish with my dearest jewels 
 Of love and faith, peace and affection ! 
 This is the altar of my sacrifice, 
 Where daily my devoted knees shall bend. 
 Age-honoured shrine ! time still so love you, 
 That I so long may have you in mine eye 
 Until my memory lose your beginning ! 
 For you, great prince, long may your fame 
 
 survive, 
 
 Your justice and your wisdom never die, 
 Crown of your crown, the blessing of your 
 
 land, 
 Which you reach to her from your regent 
 
 hand! 
 
 Leon. O Cleanthes, had you with us tasted 
 The entertainment of our retirement, 
 Fear'd and exclaim'd on in your ignorance, 
 You might have sooner died upon the won- 
 der, 
 
 Than any rage or passion for our loss. 
 A place at hand we were all strangers in, 
 So sphered about with music, such delights, 
 Such viands and attendance, and once a day 
 So cheered with a royal visitant, 
 That oft times, waking, our unsteady fancies 
 Would question whether we yet lived or no. 
 Or had possession of that paradise 
 Where angels be the guard ! 
 Evan. Enough, Leonides, 
 You go beyond the praise ; we have our end,. 
 And all is ended well : we have now seen 
 The flowers and weeds that grow about our 
 
 court. 
 
 Sim. If these be weeds, I'm afraid I shall 
 wear none so good again as long as my 
 father lives. 
 
 Evan. Only this gentleman we did abuse 
 
 With our own bosom : we seem'd a tyrant, 
 
 And he our instrument. Look, 'tis Cratilus, 
 
 [Discovers Cratilus. 
 
 The man that you supposed had now been 
 
 travell'd ; * 
 
 Which we gave leave to learn to speak, 
 And bring us foreign languages to Greece. 
 All's joy, I see ; let music be the crown : 
 And set it high, " The good needs fear no 
 
 law, 
 It is his safety, and the bad man's awe." 
 
 [Flourish. Exeunt. 
 
[Now for the first time printed m Massingers Works. \ 
 
 Believe as you List. 
 
 PROLOGUE. 
 
 So far our author is from arrogance 
 That he craves pardon for his ignorance 
 In story. If you find what's Roman here, 
 Grecian or Asiatic, draw too near 
 A late and sad example, 'tis confest 
 He's but an English scholar ; at his best 
 A stranger to cosmography, and may err 
 In the country's names, the shape and character 
 Of the person he presents. Yet he is bold 
 In me to promise, be it new or old, 
 The tale is worth the hearing ; and may move 
 Compassion, perhaps deserve your love 
 And approbation. He dares not boast 
 His pains and care, or what books he hath tost 
 And turned to make it up. The rarity 
 Of the events in this strange history, 
 Now offered to you, by his own confession 
 Must make it good, and not his weak expression. 
 You sit his judges, and like judges be 
 Fromfavoiir to his cause, or malice, free ; 
 Then, whether he hath hit the white or miss'd, 
 As the title speaks, Believe you as you list! 
 
 DRAMATIS PERSONS. 
 
 Antiochus, king of the Lower Asia, a fugitive. 
 
 A Stoic Philosopher, friend to Antiochus. 
 
 Chrysalus, Syrus, Geta, ungrateful servants 
 ^Antiochus. 
 
 Berecinthius, aflamen 0/~Cybele. 
 
 First, Second, and Third Merchants, born 
 subjects <y Antiochus. 
 
 Flaminius, the Roman Ambassador at Car- 
 thage. 
 
 Calistus, > ~ , ,,-,, 
 
 Demetrius, \&***** o/Flammms. 
 
 Amilcar, Prince of the Carthaginian Senate. 
 
 Hanno, Asdrubal, Carthalo, Carthaginian 
 Senators. 
 
 Lentulus, successor of Flaminius at Car- 
 thage. 
 
 Titus, head of Flaminius' intelligence de~ 
 part me nt. 
 
 Prusias, King of Bithynia. 
 
 Philoxenus, tutor and minister o/" Prusias. 
 
 Metellus, Proconsul of luusMams.. 
 
 Sempronius, a Captain. 
 
 Marcellus, a noble Roman, Proconsul of 
 Sicily. 
 
 Jailor, Officer, Captain, &c. 
 
 Queen of Prusias. 
 
 Courtezan. 
 
 Cornelia, a noble Roman lady, wife to Mar- 
 cellus. 
 
 Moorish Waiting Woman. 
 
 Guards, &<:., &>c. 
 
 SCENE, Carthage, Bithynia, Callipolis, Syracuse. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 SCENE I. The neighbouroo o 
 
 Enter Antiochus and a Stoic. 
 Stoic. You're now in sight of Carthage, 
 that great city, 
 
 j Which, in her empire's vastness, rivals Rome- 
 At her proud height ; two hours will bring 
 
 you thither. 
 Make use of what you've learn'd in your 
 
 long travails, 
 
 And from the golden principles, read to you 
 QQ2 
 
596 
 
 BELIEVE AS YOU LIST. 
 
 In the Athenian Academic, stand resolved 
 For either fortune. You must now forget 
 The contemplations of a private man, 
 And put in action that which may comply 
 
 with 
 j The majesty of a monarch. 
 
 Ant. How that title, 
 
 That glorious attribute of majesty, 
 That troublesome, though most triumphant 
 
 robe 
 
 Designed me in my birth, which I have worn 
 i With terror and astonishment to others, 
 Affrights me now ! O memory ! memory 
 Of what I was once when the Eastern world 
 With wonder, in my May of youth, look'd 
 
 on me. 
 
 Ambassadors of the most potent kings, 
 : With noble emulation, contending 
 To court my friendship, their fair daughters 
 
 offered 
 ' As pledges to assure it, with all pomp 
 
 And circumstance of glory. Rome herself, 
 i And Carthage, emulous whose side I should 
 Confirm in my protection. O remembrance, 
 With what ingenious cruelty and tortures, 
 Out of a due consideration of 
 My present low and desperate condition, 
 Dost thou afflict me now. 
 
 Stoic. You must oppose 
 
 (For so the stoic discipline commands you) 
 That wisdom with your patience fortified, 
 Which holds dominion over fate, against 
 The torrent of your passion. 
 
 Ant. I should, 
 
 I do confess I should, if I could drink up 
 That river of forget fulness poets dream of. 
 But still in dreadful forms, (philosophy 
 
 wanting 
 Power to remove them,) all those innocent 
 
 spirits, 
 Borrowing again their bodies, gashed with 
 
 wounds, 
 (Which strewed Achaia's bloody plains, and 
 
 made 
 
 Rivulets of gore) appear to me, exacting 
 A strict account of my ambitious folly, 
 For the exposing of twelve thousand souls, 
 Who fell that fatal day, to certain ruin ; 
 Neither the counsel of the Persian king 
 Prevailing with me; nor the grave advice 
 Of my wise enemy, Marcus Scaurus, hinder- 
 ing 
 
 My desperate enterprise too late repented. 
 Methinks I now look on my butchere<-l army! 
 Stoic. This is mere melancholy. 
 Ant. O, 'tis more, sir; 
 
 Here, there, and everywhere they do pur- 
 sue me ! 
 The genius of my country made a slave, 
 
 Like a weeping mother, seems to kneel be- 
 fore me, 
 
 Wringing her manacled hands ! The hope- 
 ful youth 
 
 And bravery of my kingdom, in their pale 
 And ghastly looks, lamenting that they were , 
 Too soon by my means forced from their i 
 
 sweet being : 
 Old [He'sper with his fierce beams [scorc]h- 
 
 ing in vain 
 Their [wives, their sisters, and their tender 
 
 daughters] 
 
 Trained up in all delights, or sacred to 
 The chaste Diana's rites, compelled to 
 
 bow to 
 
 The soldiers' lusts, or at an outcry sold 
 Under the spear like beasts to be spurned 
 
 and trod on 
 By their proud mistresses, the Roman ' 
 
 matrons ! 
 
 O, sir, consider then if it can be 
 In the constancy of a stoic to endure 
 What now I suffer ? 
 
 Stoic. Two and twenty years 
 
 Travailing o'er the world, ycu've paid the 
 
 forfeit 
 
 Of this engagement : shed a sea of tears 
 In your sorrow for it : and now, being called 
 
 from 
 
 The rigour of a strict philosopher's life 
 By the cries of your poor country, you are 
 
 bound 
 
 With an obedient cheerfulness to follow 
 The path that you are entered in, which will 
 Guide you out 'of a wilderness of horror, 
 To the flourishing plains of safety, the just ' 
 
 gods 
 Smoothing the way before you. 
 
 Ant. Though I grant 
 
 That all impossibilities are easy 
 To their omnipotence, give me leave to fear ' 
 The more than doubtful issue. Can it fall ' 
 In the compass of my hopes the lordly : 
 
 Romans, 
 
 So long possessed of Asia, their plea 
 Made good by conquest, and that ratified 
 With their religious authority, 
 The propagation of the commonwealth 
 To whose increase they're sworn to, will e'ei 
 
 part with 
 
 A prey so precious, and so dearly purchased ? 
 A tigress circled with her famished whelps 
 Will sooner yield a lamb, snatched from the 
 
 flock, 
 
 To the dumb oratory of the ewe 
 Than Romerestore one foot of earth that may 
 Diminish her vast empire ! 
 
 Stoic. In her will 
 
 This may be granted, but you have a title 
 
BELIEVE AS YOU LIST. 
 
 597 
 
 So strong and clear that there's no colour left 
 To varnish Rome's pretences. Add this, sir, 
 The Asian princes, warned by your example, 
 And yet unconquered, never will consent 
 That such a foul example of injustice 
 Shall, to the scandal of the present age, 
 Hereafter be recorded. They in this 
 Are equally engaged with you, and must, 
 Though not in love to justice, for their safety 
 In policy assist, guard, and protect you. 
 And, you may rest assured, neither the king 
 Of Parthia, the Gauls, nor big-boned Germans, 
 Nor this great Carthage, grown already 
 
 jealous 
 
 Of Rome's encroachingempire, will cry Aim 
 To such an usurpation, which must 
 Take from their own security. Besides 
 Your mother was a Roman ; for her sake, 
 And the families from which she is derived, 
 You must find favour. 
 
 Ant. For her sake ! Alas, sir, 
 
 Ambition knows no kindred. Right and 
 
 lawful 
 
 Was never yet found as a marginal note 
 In the black book of profit. I am sunk 
 Too low to be buoyed up, it being held 
 A foolish weakness and disease in statists, 
 In favour of a weak man, to provoke 
 Such as are mighty. The imperious waves 
 Of my calamities have already fallen 
 
 [Here is a sad hiatus in the manuscript.] 
 To them enter Chrysalus, Syrus, Geta, ser- 
 vants of Antiochus, -who revile him, and 
 rob and strip him. 
 
 [The hiatus continues.] 
 
 [Exeunt all but Antiochus. 
 
 Anti 
 
 [Farewell my h]opes ; despair with sable 
 
 wings 
 
 [Sail-strerch'd ab]ove my head : the gold 
 with which 
 
 i] us furnished me to supply my wants, 
 And] make my first appearance like myself 
 Have these] disloyal villains ravished from 
 
 me. 
 
 Wretch that I was to tempt their abject minds 
 With such a purchase. Can I, in this weed, 
 Without the gold to fee an advocate 
 To plead my royal title, nourish hope 
 Of a recovery? Forlorn majesty, 
 Wanting the outer gloss and ceremony 
 To give it lustre, meets no more respect 
 Than knowledge with the ignorant. Ha ! 
 
 what is 
 
 Contained in this waste paper? 'Tis endorsed 
 Jo the no-king Antiochus ; and subscribed 
 No more thy servant, but superior, Chrysalus. 
 
 What am I fallen to ? There is something 
 
 writ more. 
 Why this small piece of silver ? What I read 
 
 may 
 
 Reveal the mystery : Forget thou ivert ever 
 Called king Antiochus. With this charity 
 I enter thec a beggar. Too tough heart 
 Will nothing break thee? O thatnow I stood 
 On some high pyramid, from whence I might 
 Be seen by the whole world, and with a voice 
 Louder than thunder pierce the ears of proud 
 And secure greatness with the true relation 
 Of my remarkable story, that my fall 
 Might not be fruitless, but still live the great 
 Example of man's frailty. I that was 
 Born and bred up a king, whose frown or 
 
 smile 
 Spake death or life ; my will a law ; my 
 
 person 
 
 Environed with an army : now exposed 
 To the contempt and scorn of my own slave, 
 Who in his pride, as a god compared with 
 
 me, 
 Bids me become a beggar ! But complaints 
 
 are weak 
 
 And womanish. I will like a palm tree grow 
 Under my [own] huge weight. Nor shall the 
 
 fear 
 
 Of death or torture that dejection bring, 
 Make me [or] live or die less than a king ! 
 
 {Exit, 
 
 SCENE \\.-A Street in Carthage. 
 
 Enter Berecinthius (with, three petitions,) 
 
 and three Merchants of Asia.. 
 
 1 Merch. We are grown so contemptible 
 he disdains 
 
 To give us hearing. 
 
 2 Merch. Keeps us at such a distance, 
 And with his Roman gravity declines 
 
 Our suit for conference, as with much more 
 
 ease 
 We might make our approaches to the 
 
 Parthian, 
 
 Without a present, than work him to have 
 A. feeling of our grievances. 
 
 3 Merch. A statesman ! 
 The devil, I think, who only knows him truly, 
 Can give his character. When he is to deter- 
 mine 
 
 A point of justice, his words fall in measure 
 Like plummets of a clock, observing time 
 And just proportion. 
 
 i Merch. But when he is 
 
 To speak in any cause concerns himself, 
 Or Rome's republic, like a gushing torrent, 
 Not to be stopp'd in its full course, his 
 
 reasons, 
 Delivered like a second Mercuric, 
 
598 
 
 BELIEVE AS YOU LIST. 
 
 Break in, and [bear down] whatsoever is 
 Opposed against them. 
 
 2 Moch. When he smiles, let such 
 Beware as have to do with him, for then, 
 Sans doubt, he's bent on mischief. 
 
 Berec. As I am 
 
 Cybele's flamen (whose most sacred image, 
 Drawn thus in pomp, I wear upon my 
 
 breast), 
 
 I am privileged, nor is it in his power 
 To do me wrong ; and he shall find I can 
 Think, and aloud too, when I am not at 
 Her altar kneeling. Mother of the gods ! 
 
 what is he ? 
 
 At his bast but a patrician of Rome, 
 His name Titus Flaminius ; and speak mine, 
 Berecinthius, arch-flamen to Cybele, 
 It makes as great a sound. 
 
 3 Mcrch. True ; but his place, sir, 
 And the power it carries in it, as Rome's 
 
 legate, 
 Gives him pre-eminence o'er you. 
 
 Berec. Not an atom. 
 
 When moral honesty and jus gentium fail 
 To lend relief to such as are oppressed, 
 Religion must use her strength. I'm perfect 
 In these notes you gave me. Do they con- 
 tain at full, 
 Your grievances and losses. 
 
 1 Merck. Would they were 
 As well redressed, as they are punctually 
 Delivered to you. 
 
 Berec. Say no more, they shall 
 
 And to the purpose. 
 
 2 Merch. Here he comes. 
 Berec. Have at him. 
 
 Enter Flaminius with two freedmen, 
 Calistus and Demetrius. 
 
 Flam. Blow away these troublesome 
 
 and importunate drones, 
 I've embryons of greater consequence 
 In my imaginations to which 
 I must give life and form, not now vouchsafing 
 To hear their idle buzzes. 
 
 2 Merch. Note you that ? 
 
 Berec. Yes, I do note it ; but the Flamen 
 
 is not 
 
 So light to be removed by a groom's breath. 
 I must, and will, speak, and I thus confront 
 
 him. 
 
 Flam. But that the image of the god- 
 dess, which 
 Thou wear'st upon thy breast, protects thy 
 
 rudeness, 
 
 T had forfeited thy life. Dost thou not tremble 
 When an incensed Roman frowns ? 
 
 JBcrec. I see 
 
 No Gorgon in your face. 
 
 Flam. Must I speak in thunder 
 
 Before thou wilt be awed ? 
 Berec. I rather look 
 
 For reverence from thee if thou respectest 
 
 The goddess' power, and in her name I 
 charge thee 
 
 To give me hearing. If these lions roar, 
 
 For thy contempt of her expect a vengeance 
 
 Suitable to thy pride. 
 
 Flam. Thou shalt o'ercome, \ 
 
 There's no contending with thee. 
 
 3 Merch. Hitherto : 
 
 The Flamen hath the better. 
 
 i Merch. But I iear 
 
 He will not keep it. 
 Berec. Know vou these men's i 
 
 faces? 
 
 Flam. Yes, yes, poor Asiatics. 
 Berec. Poor ! They are made so 
 
 By your Roman tyranny and oppression. 
 Flam. . . . [to task] 
 
 If arrogantly you presume to take 
 
 The Roman government, your goddess can- 
 not 
 
 Give privilege to it, and you'll find and feel 
 
 'Tis little less than treason, Flamen. 
 Berec. Truth 
 
 In your pride is so interpreted : these poor 
 men, 
 
 These Asiatic merchants, whom you look 
 on 
 
 With such contempt and scorn, are they to 
 whom 
 
 Rome owes her bravery : their industrious 
 search 
 
 To the farthest Inde, with danger to them- 
 selves 
 
 Brings home security to you to you un- 
 thankful : 
 
 Your magazines are from their sweat sup- 
 plied : 
 
 The legions with which you fright the world 
 
 Are from their labour "paid : the Tyrian 
 fish, 
 
 Whose blood dyes your proud purple, in the 
 colour 
 
 Distinguishing the senator's garded robe 
 
 From a plebeian habit, their nets catch : 
 
 The diamond hewed from the rock, the 
 pearl 
 
 Dived for into the bottom of the sea, 
 
 The sapphire, ruby, jacinth, amber, coral, 
 
 And all rich ornaments of your Latian 
 dames 
 
 Are Asian spoils. They are indeed the 
 nurses 
 
 And sinews of your war, and without them 
 
 What could you do ? Your handkercher 
 
 Flam. Wipe your face, 
 
BELIEVE AS YOU LIST. 
 
 599 
 
 You're in a sweat. The weather's hot, take 
 
 heed 
 Of melting your fat kidneys. 
 
 Bcrcc. There's no heat 
 
 Can thaw thy frozen conscience. 
 
 Flam. To it again ; 
 
 I am not mov'd. 
 
 Berec. I see it. If you had 
 
 The feeling of a man you would not suffer 
 These men, who have deserved so well, to 
 
 sink 
 
 Under the burthen of their wrongs. If they 
 Are subjects, why enjoy they not the right 
 And privilege of subjects ? What defence 
 Can you allege for your connivance to 
 The Carthaginian gallies, who forced from 
 
 them 
 
 The prize they took, belonging not to them 
 Nor their confederates ? 
 
 Flam. With reverence 
 
 To your so sacred goddess, I must tell you 
 You're grown presumptuous ; and, in your 
 
 demands, 
 
 i A rash and saucy Flamen. Meddle with 
 i Your juggling mysteries, and keep in awe 
 i Your gelded ministers. Shall 1 yield account 
 Of what I do to you ? 
 
 1 Merck. He smiles in frown. 
 
 2 Merck. Nay then I know what follows. 
 
 3 Merck. In his looks 
 A tempest rises. 
 
 Flam. How dare you complain, 
 
 1 Or in a look repine? Our government 
 Hath been too easy, and the yoke, which 
 
 Rome 
 
 In her accustomed lenity imposed 
 Upon your stubborn necks, begets con- 
 tempt. 
 
 Hath our familiar commerce and trading, 
 Almost as with our equals, taught you to 
 Dispute our actions? Have you quite forgot 
 What we are, and you ought to be? Shall 
 
 vassals 
 Capitulate with their lords? 
 
 2 Merck. I vow he speaks 
 
 In his own dialect. 
 
 Flam. 'Tis too frequent, wretches, 
 
 To have the vanquished hate the conqueror, 
 And from us needs no answer. Do I not 
 
 know 
 
 How odious the lordly Roman is 
 To the despised Asian ; and that 
 To gain your liberty you would pull down 
 The altars of your gods, and like the giants 
 Raise a new war gainst heaven. 
 
 i Merck. Terrible ! 
 
 Flam. Did you not give assurance of this, 
 
 when 
 Giddy Antiochus died, and rather than 
 
 Accept us guardians of your orphan king- 
 dom, 
 
 When the victorious Scaurus with his sword 
 Pleaded the Roman title, with our vote, 
 You did exclaim against us as the men 
 That sought to lay an unjust gripe upon 
 Your territories ; never remembering that 
 In the brass-leaved book of fate it was set 
 
 down 
 The earth should know no sovereign but 
 
 Rome. 
 
 Yet you repine, and rather choose to pay 
 Homage and fealty to the Parthian, 
 The Egyptian Ptolemy, or indeed any, 
 Than bow unto the Roman. 
 
 Berec. And perhaps 
 
 Our government in them had been more 
 
 gentle, 
 Since yours is insupportable. 
 
 Flam. If thou wert not 
 
 In a free state, the tongue that belloweth 
 
 forth 
 These blasphemies should be seared. For 
 
 you presume not [To the Merchants. 
 To trouble me, hereafter. If you do, 
 You shall with horror to your proudest 
 
 hopes 
 
 Feel really that we have iron hammers 
 To pulverize rebellion, and that 
 We dare use you as slaves. Be you, too, 
 
 warned, sir, [To Berec. 
 
 And this is my last caution. I have seen 
 A murmurer, like yourself, for his attempting 
 To raise sedition in Rome's provinces, 
 Hang'd up in such a habit ! 
 
 [Exeunt Flaminius andfreedmen. 
 Berec. I have took 
 
 Poison in at my ears, and I shall burst 
 If it come not up in my reply. 
 
 1 Merck. He's gone, sir. 
 Berec. He durst not stay me. If he had, 
 
 he'd found 
 I would not swallow my spittle. 
 
 2 Merck. As we must 
 Our wrongs and our disgraces. 
 
 3 Merck. O, the wretched 
 Condition that we live in ! Made the anvil 
 On which Rome's tyrannies are shaped and 
 
 fashioned. 
 
 1 Merck. But our calamities there's nothing 
 left us, 
 
 Which we can call our own. 
 
 2 Merck. Our wives and daughters 
 Lie open to their lusts, and such as should be 
 Our judges dare not right us. 
 
 3 Merck. O, Antiochus ! 
 Thrice happy were the men whom fate ap- 
 pointed 
 
 To fall with thee in Achaia. 
 
6oo 
 
 BELIEVE AS YOU LIST. 
 
 2 Merck. They have set 
 
 A period to their miseries. 
 
 i Afe.rch. We survive 
 
 To linger out a tedious life ; and death 
 We call in vain what flies us. 
 
 Bcrec. If religion 
 
 Be not a mere word only, and the gods 
 Are just, we shall find a delivery 
 When least expected. 
 
 Enter Antiochus. 
 
 1 Merck. 'Tis beyond all hope, sir. 
 Berec. Ha ! who is this ? 
 
 Ant. Your charity to a poor man 
 
 As you are Asians. 
 
 2 Merck. Pray you observe him. 
 
 3 Merck. I am amazed ! 
 
 1 Merck. I thunderstrook ! 
 Bercc. What are you ? 
 Ant. The King Antiochus. 
 
 2 Merck. Or some deity 
 That hath assumed his shape ? 
 
 Berec. He only differs 
 
 In the colour of his hair, and age. 
 
 Ant. Consider 
 
 What two and twenty years of misery 
 Can work upon a wretch : that long time 
 
 spent too 
 Under distant zeniths, and the change you 
 
 look on 
 Will not deserve your wonder. 
 
 1 Merck. His own voice ! 
 
 2 Merck. His very countenance, his fore- 
 head, eyes ! 
 
 3 Merck. His nose, his very lip ! 
 
 Berec. His stature, speech ! 
 
 1 Merck. His very hand, leg, foot ! 
 
 2 Merck. The moles upon 
 His face and hands. 
 
 3 Merck. The scars caused by his hurts 
 On his right brow and head. 
 
 Berec. The hollowness 
 
 Of his under jaw, occasioned by the loss 
 Of a tooth pulled out by his chirurgion. 
 
 1 Merck. To confirm us, tell your chirur- 
 gion's name 
 
 When he served you. 
 
 Ant. You all knew him as I 
 
 Do you : Demetrius Castor. 
 
 2 Merck. Strange. 
 
 3 Merck. But 
 Most infallibly true. 
 
 Berec. So many marks 
 
 Confirming us, we'll pay for our distrust 
 A sacrifice for his safety. 
 
 1 Merck. May Rome smile ! 
 
 2 Merck. And Asia once more flourish ! 
 
 3 Merck. You the means, sir ! 
 
 Ant. Silence your shouts : I will give 
 
 stronger proofs 
 
 Than these exterior marks when I appear 
 Before the Carthaginian senators, 
 With whom I have held more intelligence 
 And private counsels than with all the kings 
 Of Asia or Afric : I'll amaze them 
 With the wonder of my story. 
 
 Berec. Yet, until 
 
 Your majesty be furnished like yourself, 
 To a neighbour village 
 
 Ant. Where you please. The omen 
 
 Of this encounter promises a good issue : . 
 And, our gods pleased, oppressed Asia, 
 When aid is least expected, may shake off 
 The insulting Roman bondage, and in me 
 Gain and enjoy her pristine liberty. 
 
 {Exeunt, 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 SCENE I. Carthage. A Room in the 
 
 House of Flaminius. 
 
 Enter Flaminius and his frecdman Calistus. 
 Flam. A man that styles himself Antiochus 
 
 say you ? 
 Calls. Not alone styled so, but as such 
 
 received 
 And honoured by the Asians. 
 
 Flam. Two impostors. 
 
 For their pretension to that fatal name, 
 Already have paid dear ; nor shall this third 
 Escape unpunished. 
 
 Calls. I will exact your wisdom 
 
 With an Herculean arm (the cause requires it) 
 To strangle this new monster in the birth. 
 For, on my life, he hath delivered to 
 The credulous multitude such reasons why 
 They should believe he is the true Antiochus 
 That, with their gratulations for his safety, 
 And wishes for his restitution, many 
 Offer the hazard of their lives and fortunes 
 To do him service. 
 
 Flam. Poor seduced fools ! 
 
 However 'tis a business of such weight 
 I must not sleep in 't. Is he now in Carthage? 
 Calls. No, sir ; removed to a grange some 
 
 two miles off ; 
 And there the malcontents, and such, whose 
 
 wants 
 With forfeited credits make them wish a 
 
 change 
 Of the Roman government, in troops flock 
 
 to him. 
 
 Flam. With one puff thus will I dis- 
 perse and scatter 
 
 This heap of dust. Here take my ring. By 
 this 
 
BELIEVE AS YOU LIST. 
 
 6or 
 
 ! Entreat my friend Amilcar to procure 
 , A mandate from the Carthaginian senate 
 For the apprehension of this impostor, 
 1 And with all possible speed. [Z?.rz7Calistus. 
 Howe'er I know 
 
 i The rumour of Antiochus' death uncertain, 
 ! It much imports the safety of great Rome 
 ' To have it so believed. 
 
 Enter Demetrius. 
 
 Dem. There wait without 
 
 : Three fellows I ne'er saw before, who much 
 Importune their access. They swear they 
 
 bring 
 Business along with "em that deserves your 
 
 care, 
 
 It being for the safety of the republic, 
 And quiet of the provinces. They are full 
 Of gold I've felt their bounty. 
 
 Flam. Such are welcome. 
 
 I Give them admittance. In this various play 
 i Of state and policy, there is no property 
 But may be useful. 
 
 Enter Chrysalus, Geta, and Syrus. 
 
 Now, friends, what design 
 Carries you to me? 
 
 Geta. My most honoured lord 
 
 Synis. May't please your mightiness 
 
 Flam. Let one speak for all. 
 
 I cannot brook this discord. 
 
 Chrys. As our duties 
 
 Command us, noble Roman, having dis- 
 covered 
 
 A dreadful danger, with the nimble wings 
 ; Of speed approaching to the state of Rome, 
 : We hold it fit you should have the first notice, 
 That you may have the honour to prevent it. 
 Flam. I thank you ; but instruct me what 
 
 form wears 
 The danger that you speak of. 
 
 Chrys. It appears 
 
 | In the shape of King Antiochus. 
 
 Flam. How ! Is he 
 
 Rose from the dead ? 
 
 Chrys. Alas ! he never died, sir; 
 
 He at this instant lives the more the pity 
 He should survive, to the disturbance of 
 Rome's close and politic counsels in the 
 
 getting 
 
 . Possession of his kingdom, which he would 
 Recover (simple as he is) the plain 
 And downright way of justice. 
 
 Flam. Very likely. 
 
 But how are you assured this is Antiochus, 
 And not a counterfeit ? Answer that. 
 I Chrys. I serv'd him 
 
 ' In the Achaian war, where, his army routed, 
 
 And the warlike Romans hot in their exe- 
 cution, 
 
 To shun their fury he and his minions were 
 (Having cast oft their glorious armour) forced 
 To hide themselves as dead, with fear and 
 
 horror, 
 Among the slaughtered carcases. I lay by 
 
 them, 
 And rose with them at midnight. Then 
 
 retiring 
 
 Unto their ships, we sailed to Corinth : thence 
 To India, where he spent many years 
 With their gymnosophists. There I waited 
 
 on him, 
 ! And came thence with him. But, at length, 
 
 tired out 
 
 With an unrewarded service, and affrighted 
 In my imagination with the dangers, 
 Or rather certain ruins, in pursuing 
 His more than desperate fortunes, we forsook 
 
 him. 
 Flam. A wise and politic fellow ! Give me 
 
 thy hand. 
 Thou'rt sure of this ? 
 
 Chrys. As of my life. 
 
 Flam. And this is 
 
 Known only to you three ? 
 
 Chrys. There's no man lives else 
 
 To witness it. 
 
 Flam. The better : but inform me, 
 
 And, as you would oblige me to you, truly, 
 Where did you leave him ? 
 
 Syrus. For the payment of 
 
 Our long and tedious travail, we made bold 
 To rifle him. 
 
 Flam. Good ! 
 
 Geta. And so disabling him 
 
 Of means to claim his right, we hope 
 
 despair 
 Hath made him hang himself. 
 
 Flam. It had been safer 
 
 If you had done it for him. But as it is, 
 You are honest men. You have revealed this 
 
 secret 
 To no man but myself? 
 
 Chrys. Nor ever will. 
 
 Flam. I will take order that you never 
 shall. ' [Aside. 
 
 And, since you have been true unto the 
 
 state, 
 
 I'll keep you so. I'm even now considering 
 How to advance you. 
 
 Chrys. What a pleasant smile 
 
 His honour throws upon us. 
 
 Geta. We are made. 
 
 Flam. And now 'tis found out, that no 
 
 danger may 
 
 Come near you, should the robbery be dis- 
 covered, 
 
BELIEVE AS YOU LIST. 
 
 Which the Carthaginian laws, you know, 
 
 call death, 
 
 My house shall be your sanctuary. 
 Syrus. There's a favour ! j 
 
 Flam. And that our entertainment come j 
 
 not short 
 
 Of your deservings, I commit you to 
 My secretary's care. See that they want not, 
 
 Among their other delicates 
 
 Chrys. Mark that ! 
 
 Flam. A sublimated pill of mercuric, 
 For sugar to their wine. 
 Dem. I understand you. 
 
 Flam. Attend these.honest men, as if they 
 
 were 
 Made Roman citizens. And be sure, at 
 
 night, 
 I may see 'em well-lodged. Dead in the 
 
 vault, I mean, 
 Their gold is thy reward. 
 
 \Aside to Demetrius. 
 Dem. Believe it done, sir. 
 
 Flam. And when 'tis known how I have 
 
 recompensed 
 {Though you were treacherous to your own 
 
 king,) 
 
 The service done to Rome, I hope that others 
 Will follow your example. Enter, friends ; 
 I'll so provide that when you next come 
 
 forth, 
 You shall not fear who sees you. 
 
 Chrys. Was there ever 
 
 So sweet a tempered Roman ? 
 
 Flam. You shall find it. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 Ha! what's the matter? Do I feel a sting 
 
 here, 
 For what is done to these poor snakes ? My 
 
 reason 
 
 Will easily remove it. That assures me, 
 That, as I am a Roman, to preserve 
 And propagate her empire, though they 
 
 were 
 
 My father's sons, they must not live to witness 
 Antiochus is in being. The relation 
 The villain made, in every circumstance 
 Appeared so like to truth, that I began 
 To feel an inclination to believe 
 What I must have no faith in. By my birth 
 I am bound to serve thee, Rome, and what 
 
 I do, 
 Necessity of state compels me to. {Exit. 
 
 SCENE II. The Senate Hallin Carthage. 
 Enter Amilcar, Hanno, Asdrubal, and 
 
 Carthalo. 
 Amil. To steer a middle course 'twixt 
 
 these extremes, 
 Exacts our serious care. 
 
 Hanno. I know not which way 
 
 I should incline. 
 
 Amil. The reasons this man urges, 
 
 To prove himself Antiochus, are so pregnant, 
 And the attestation of his countrymen 
 In every circumstance so punctual, 
 As not to show him our compassion were 
 An act of barb'rous cruelty. 
 
 Carth. 'Under correction, 
 
 Give me leave to speak my thoughts. \Ye're 
 
 bound to weigh 
 Not what we should do in the point of 
 
 honour, 
 
 Swayed by our pity, but what may be done 
 With the safety of the state. 
 
 Asd. Which is, indeed, 
 
 The main consideration : for, grant 
 This is the true Antiochus, without danger, 
 Nay, almost certain ruin to ourselves, 
 We cannot yield him favour or protection. 
 Hanno. We've fear'd and felt the Roman 
 
 power, and must 
 
 Expect, if we provoke him, a return 
 Not limited to the quality of the offence, 
 But left at large to his interpretation, 
 Which seldom is confined. Who knows not 
 
 that 
 
 The tribute Rome receives from Asia, is 
 Her chief supportance ;. other provinces 
 Hardly defray the charge by which they are 
 Kept in subjection. They, in name, perhaps, j 
 Render the Roman terrible ; but his strength 
 And power to do hurt, without question, is | 
 Derived from Asia. And can we hope then, 
 That such as lend their aids to force it from 
 
 them, 
 
 Will be held for less than capital enemies, 
 And, as such, pursued and punished ? 
 
 Carth. I could wish 
 
 We were well rid of him. 
 
 Asd. The surest course 
 
 Is to deliver him into the hands 
 Of bold Flaminius. 
 
 Hanno. And so oblige 
 
 Rome, for a matchless benefit. 
 
 Amil. I f my power 
 
 Were absolute, as 'tis but titular, 
 And that confined too, being by you .elected 
 Prince of the Senate only for a year, 
 I would oppose your counsels, and not 
 
 labour 
 
 With arguments to confute them. Yet, how- 
 ever, 
 Though a fellow-patriot with you, let it not ! ; 
 
 savour 
 
 Of usurpation, though in my opinion 
 I cross your abler judgments. Call to mind 
 Our grandsires' glories (though not seconded 
 With due imitation), and remember 
 
BELIEVE AS YOU LIST. 
 
 603 
 
 'With what expense of coin, as biood, they 
 
 did 
 
 Maintain their liberty, and kept the scale 
 Of empire even 'twixt Carthage and proud 
 
 Rome ; 
 
 And though the Punic faith is branded by 
 Our enemies, our confederates and friends, 
 And seventeen kings, our feodaries, found it 
 As firm as fate. Our strengths upon the sea 
 Exceeding theirs and our land soldiers 
 In number far above theirs, though inferior 
 In arms and discipline (to our shame we 
 
 speak it) 
 
 And then for our cavallery, in the champaign 
 How often have they brake their piles, and 
 
 routed 
 Their coward legions. 
 
 Hanno. This, I grant, is not 
 
 To be contradicted. 
 
 Amil. If so we find it 
 
 In our records, and that this state hath been 
 The sanctuary to which mighty kings 
 Have fled to for protection, and found it, 
 Let it not to posterity be told 
 That we so far degenerate from the race 
 We are derived, as in a servile fear 
 Of the Roman power, in a kind to play the 
 
 bawds 
 To their ravenous lusts, by yielding up a 
 
 man, 
 
 That wears the shape of our confederate, 
 To their devouring gripe, whose strong 
 
 assurance 
 
 Of our integrity and impartial doom 
 Hath made this seat his altar. 
 
 Carth. I join with you 
 
 In this opinion, but no farther than 
 It may be done with safety. 
 
 Asd. In his ruins 
 
 To bury ourselves, you needs must grant 
 
 to be 
 
 An inconsiderate pity, no way suiting 
 With a wise man's reason. 
 
 Carth. Let us face to face 
 
 Hear the accuser and accused, and then, 
 As cither's arguments work on us, determine 
 As the respect of our security 
 Or honour shall invite us. 
 
 Amil. From the Senate, 
 
 Entreat the Roman, Titus Flaminius 
 To assist us with his counsel. 
 
 Hanno. And let the prisoner 
 
 Be brought into the court. 
 
 Amil. The gods of Carthage 
 
 Direct us the right way ! 
 
 Enter Flaminius. 
 
 Asd. With what gravity 
 
 He does approach us. 
 
 Carth. As he would command, 
 
 Not argue his desires. 
 
 Amil. May it please your lordship 
 
 To take your place. 
 
 Flam. In civil courtesy 
 
 As I am Titus Flaminius, I may thank you ; 
 But, sitting here as Rome's ambassador, 
 (In which you are honoured,) to instruct 
 
 you in 
 Her will, (which you are bound to serve, 
 
 not argue) 
 t must not borrow that were poor but 
 
 take 
 
 As a tribute due to her, that's justly styled 
 The mistress of this earthly globe, the bold- 
 ness 
 
 To reprehend your slow progression in 
 Doing her greatness right. That she believes, 
 In me, that this impostor was suborned 
 By the conquered Asiatics, in their hopes 
 Of future liberty, to usurp the name 
 Of dead Antiochus, should satisfy 
 Your scrupulous doubts ; all proofs beyond 
 
 this being 
 Merely superfluous. 
 
 Carth. My lord, my lord,. 
 
 You trench too much upon us. 
 
 Asd. W r e are not 
 
 Led by an implicit faith. 
 
 Hanno. Nor, though we would 
 
 Preserve Rome's amity, must not yield up 
 The freedom of our wills and judgments to 
 Quit or condemn, as we shall be appointed 
 By her imperious pleasure. 
 
 Carth. We confess not, 
 
 Nor ever will, she hath a power above us. 
 Carthage is still her equal. 
 
 Amil. If you can 
 
 Prove this man an impostor, he shall suffer 
 As he deserves. If not, you shall perceive 
 You have no empire here. 
 
 Hanno. Call in the pris'ner : 
 
 Then, as you please, confront him. 
 
 Flam. This neglect 
 
 Hereafter will be thought on. 
 
 Amil. We shall stand 
 
 The danger howsoever. When we did, 
 His cause unheard, at your request commit 
 This king or this impostor, you received 
 More favour than we owed you. 
 
 Officer [within]. Room for the prisoner ! 
 
 Enter Antiochus, habited as a king, Bere- 
 cinthius, the three Merchants, am? a Guard. 
 
 Ant. This shape, that you have put me 
 
 in, suits ill 
 With the late austereness of my life. 
 
 Berec. Fair gloss 
 
 Wrongs not the richest stuff, but sets it off, 
 
6o 4 
 
 BELIEVE AS YOU LIST. 
 
 And let your language, high and stately, 
 
 speak you 
 ! As you were born a king. 
 
 Ant. Health to the Senate. 
 
 We do suppose your duties done. Sit still. 
 Titus Flaminius,' we remember you. 
 As you are a public minister from Rome 
 You may sit covered. 
 
 Flam. How ! 
 
 Ant. But as we are 
 
 A potent king in whose court you have waited 
 And sought our favour, you betray your pride, 
 And the more than saucy rudeness of your 
 
 manners. 
 
 A bended knee, remembering what we are, 
 Much better had become you. 
 
 Flam. Ha ! 
 
 Ant. We said it : 
 
 But fall from our own height to hold dis- 
 course 
 "With a thing so far beneath us. 
 
 Berec. Admirable ! 
 
 Amil. The Roman looks as he had seen 
 
 the wolf. 
 How his confidence aw r es him. 
 
 Asd. Be he what he will, 
 
 He bears him like a king ; and I must tell 
 
 you 
 I am' amazed too. 
 
 Ant. Are we so transformed 
 
 From what we were, since our disaster in 
 The Grecian enterprise, that you gaze upon us 
 As some strange prodigy ne'er seen in Afric. 
 Antiochus speaks to you, the King Antiochus, 
 And challenges a retribution in 
 His entertainment of the love and favours 
 Extended to you. Call to memory 
 Your true friend and confederate, who re- 
 fused 
 
 In his respect to you the proffered amity 
 Of the Roman people. Hath this vile en- 
 chanter 
 
 Environed me with such thick clouds in your 
 Erroneous belief, from his report 
 That I was long since dead, that, being 
 
 present, 
 
 The beams of majesty cannot bre;ik through 
 i The foggy mists, raised by his wicked charms, 
 To lend you light to know me ? I cite you, 
 My lord Amilcar : now I look on you 
 As prince of the senate, but, when you were 
 
 less, 
 
 I've seen you in my court assisted by 
 Grave Hanno, Asdrubal, and Carthalo, 
 The pillars of the Carthaginian greatness. 
 I know you all. Antiochus ne'er deserved 
 To be thus slighted. 
 
 Amil. Not so. We in you 
 
 Look on the figure of the King Antiochus, 
 
 But, without stronger proofs than yet you: 
 
 have 
 Produced to make us think so, cannot near 
 
 you 
 But as a man suspected. 
 
 Ant. Of what guilt? 
 
 Flam. Of subornation and imposture. 
 Ant. Silence 
 
 This fellow's saucy tongue. O Majesty ! 
 How soon a short eclipse hath made thy 
 
 splendour, 
 
 As it had never shined on these, forgotten ! 
 But you refuse to hear me as a king, 
 Deny not yet, in justice, what you grant 
 To common men, free liberty without 
 His interruption (having heard what he 
 Objects against me) to acquit myself 
 Of that, which, in his malice, I am charged 
 
 with. 
 
 Amil. You have it. 
 
 Ant. As my present fortune wills me 
 I thank your goodness. Rise thou cursed 
 
 agent 
 
 Of mischief, and accumulate in one heap 
 All engines, by the devil thy tutor fashioned 
 To ruin innocence. In poison steep 
 Thy bloodied tongue, and let thy words, as- 
 full 
 
 Of bitterness as malice, labour to 
 Seduce these noble hearen. Make me, in 
 Thy coined accusation, guilty of 
 Such crimes, whose names my innocence 
 
 ne'er knew, 
 I '11 stand the charge. And when that thou 
 
 hast shot 
 
 All arrows in thy quiver, feathered with 
 Slanders, and aimed with cruelty, in vain, 
 My truth, though yet concealed, the moun- 
 tains of 
 
 Thy glossed fictions in her strength re- 
 moved, 
 
 Shall in a glorious shape appear, and show 
 Thy painted mistress, falsehood, when: 
 
 stripped bare 
 
 Of borrowed and adulterate colours, in 
 Her own shape and deformity. 
 Berec. I am ravished t 
 
 1 Merch. O, more than royal sir ! 
 Amil. Forbear. 
 
 2 Merck. The monster 
 Prepares to speak. 
 
 Berec. And still that villainous smile 
 Ushers his following mischiefs. 
 
 Flam. Since the assurance, 
 
 From one of my place, quality, and rank, 
 Is not sufficient with you to suppress 
 This bold seductor, and to acquit our state 
 From the least tyrannous imputation, 
 I will forget awhile I am a Roman, 
 
BELIEVE AS YOU LIST. 
 
 605 
 
 "Whose arguments are warranted by his 
 
 sword 
 
 And not filled from his tongue. This crea- 
 ture here, 
 
 That styles himself Antiochus, I know 
 For an apostata Jew, though others say 
 He is a cheating Greek called Pseudolus, 
 And keeps a whore in Corinth. But I'll 
 
 come 
 
 'To real proofs ; reports and rumours being 
 Subjects unsuitable with my gravity 
 To speak, or yours to hear. 'Tis most ap- 
 parent 
 
 The king Antiochus was slain in Greece ; 
 His body, at his subjects' suit, delivered ; 
 His ashes, from the funeral pile, raked up, 
 And in a golden urn preserved, and kept 
 In the royal monument of the Asian 
 
 kings. 
 
 :Such was the clemency of Marcus Scaurus, 
 The Roman conqueror, whose triumph was 
 -Graced only with his statue. But suppose 
 He had survived (which is impossible) 
 Can it fall in the compass of your reason 
 That this impostor (if he were the man 
 "Which he with impudence affirms he is) 
 Would have wandered two and twenty 
 
 tedious yeais 
 Like a vagabond o'er the world, and not 
 
 have tried 
 .Rome's mercy as a suppliant. 
 
 Hanno. Shrewd suspicions. 
 
 Flam. A mason of Callipolis, heretofore, 
 Presumed as far, and was, like this im- 
 postor, 
 
 By slavish Asians followed. And a second, 
 .A Cretan of a base condition, did 
 Maintain the like. All ages have been fur- 
 nished 
 
 With such as have usurped upon the names 
 .And persons of dead princes. Is it not 
 As evident as the day this wretch, instructed 
 By these poor Asians (sworn enemies 
 "To the majesty of Rome) but personates 
 The dead Antiochus : hired to it by these 
 'To stir up a rebellion, which they call 
 Delivery or restoring. And will you, 
 ~Who, for your wisdom, are esteemed the 
 
 sages 
 
 .And oracles of Afric, meddle in 
 'The affairs of this affronter, which no 
 
 monarch, 
 
 Less rash and giddy than Antiochus was, 
 Would undertake. 
 
 Ant. Would I were dead, indeed, 
 Rather than hear this, living ! 
 
 Flam. I confess 
 
 He hath some marks of king Antiochus, but 
 The most of 'em artificial. Then observe 
 
 What kind of men they are that do abet 
 
 him : 
 
 Proscribed and banished persons : the ring- 
 leader 
 Of this seditious troop a turbulent Flamen, ! 
 
 Grown fat with idleness 
 
 Berec. That's I. 
 
 Flam. And puffed up 
 
 With the wind of his ambition. 
 
 Berec. With reverence to 
 
 [This place,] thou liest. I am grown to this ' 
 
 bulk 
 By being ...... 
 
 Amil. I [bow to] your goddess. She 
 Defends you from a whipping. 
 
 Hanno. Take him off, 
 
 He does disturb the court. 
 
 Berec. I'll find a place yet 
 
 Where I will roar my wrongs out. 
 
 {Exeunt Officers loitk Berecinthius. 
 Flam. As you have, 
 
 In the removing of that violent fool, 
 Given me a taste of your severity, 
 Make it a feast, and perfect your great jus- 
 tice 
 
 In the surrendering up this false pretender 
 To the correction of the law, and let him 
 Undergo the same punishment, which others 
 Have justly suffered that preceded him 
 In the same machination. 
 
 Ant. As you wish 
 
 A noble memory to after times 
 Reserve one ear for my defence, and let not 
 For your own wisdoms let not that belief, 
 This subtle fiend would plant, be rooted in : 
 
 you 
 Till you have heard me. Would you know 
 
 the truth, 
 
 And real cause, why poor Antiochus hath 
 So long concealed himself? Though in the ' 
 
 opening 
 
 A wound, in some degree by time closed up, 
 I shall pour scalding oil and sulphur in it, 
 I will, in the relation of my 
 To be lamented story, punctually 
 Confute my false accuser. Pray you conceive, 
 As far as your compassion will permit, 
 How great the grief and agony ef my soul ' 
 
 was, 
 
 When I considered that the violence 
 Of my ill-reined ambition had made Greece 
 The fatal sepulchre of so many thousands 
 Of brave and able men, that might have ! 
 
 stood 
 
 In opposition for the defence 
 Of mine own kingdom, and a ready aid 
 For my confed'rates. After which rout, 
 And my retreat in a disguise to Athens, 
 
6o6 
 
 BELIEVE AS YOU LIST. 
 
 The shame of this disgrace, though I then 
 
 had 
 
 The forehead of this man, would have de- 
 terred me 
 
 From being ever seen where I was known ; 
 And such was then my resolution. 
 
 A mil. This granted, whither went you ? 
 
 Ant. As a punishment 
 
 Imposed upon myself, and equal to 
 My wilful folly, giving o'er the world, 
 I went into a desert. 
 
 Flam. This agrees 
 
 With the dead slaves' report ; but I must 
 contemn it. [Aside. 
 
 A mil. What drew you from that austere 
 life? 
 
 Asd. Clear that. 
 
 Ant. The counsel of a grave philosopher 
 Wrought on me to make known myself the 
 
 man 
 
 That I was born. And, of all potentates 
 In Afric, to determine of the truth 
 Of my life and condition I preferred 
 The commonwealth of Carthage. 
 
 Flam. As the fittest 
 
 To be abused. 
 
 Ant. This is not fair. 
 
 Amil. My lord, 
 
 If not entreat, I must command your silence, 
 Or absence which you please. 
 
 Flam. So peremptory ? 
 
 Ant. To vindicate myself from all sus- 
 picion 
 
 Of forgery and imposture, in this scroll, 
 Writ with my royal hand, you may peruse 
 A true memorial of all circumstances, 
 Answers, despatches, doubts, and difficulties 
 Between myself and your ambassadors, 
 Sent to negociate with me. 
 
 Amil. Fetch the records. 
 
 Ant. 'Tis my desire you should. Truth 
 
 seeks the light. 
 And, when you have compared them, if 
 
 you find them. 
 In any point of moment differing, 
 
 Enter one with the books. 
 
 Conclude me such a one, as this false man 
 Presents nfe to you. But, if you perceive 
 Those private passages, in my cabinet 
 
 argued, 
 
 And, but to your ambassadors and myself, 
 Concealed from all men, in each point 
 
 agreeing, 
 
 Judge if a cheating Greek, a Pseudolus, 
 Or an apostata Jew, could e'er arrive at 
 Such deep and weighty secrets. 
 
 Han no. To a syllable 
 
 They are the same. 
 
 Amil. It cannot be but this is 
 
 The true Antiochus ! 
 
 Flam. A magician rather, 
 
 And hath the spirit of Python. 
 
 Carth. These are toys. 
 
 Ant. You see he will omit no trifle, that 
 His malice can lay hold of, to divert 
 Your love and favour to me. Now for my 
 
 death : 
 The firmest base on which he builds the 
 
 strength 
 
 Of his assertions : if you please to weigh it, 
 With your accustom 'd wisdom, you'll per- 
 ceive 
 'Tis merely fabulous. Had they meant 
 
 fairly 
 
 And, as a truth, would have it so con- 
 firmed 
 
 To the doubtful Asians, why did they not 
 Suffer the carcase they affirmed was mine 
 To be viewed by such men as were interested 
 In the great cause, that were bred up with 
 
 me, 
 
 And were familiar with the marks I carried 
 Upon my body, and not rely upon 
 Poor prisoners taken in the war, from whom, 
 In hope of liberty and reward, they drew 
 Such depositions as they knew would make 
 For their dark ends. Was anything more 
 
 easy 
 
 Than to suppose a body, and that placed on 
 A solemn hearse, with funeral pomp tcx 
 
 inter it 
 
 In a rich monument ; and, then, proclaim 
 This is the body of Antiochus, 
 King of the lower Asia ! 
 
 Flam. Rome's honour 
 
 Is taxed in this of practise and corruption \ 
 I'll hear no more. In your determinations. 
 Consider what it is to hold and keep her 
 Your friend or enemy. {Exit Flaminius. 
 Amil. We wish we could 
 
 Receive you as a king, since your relation 
 Hath wrought so much upon us that we do 
 Incline to that belief. But since we cannot 
 As such protect you, but with certain danger,. 
 Until you are by other potent nations 
 Proclaimed for such, our fitting caution 
 Cannot be censured, though we do entreat 
 You would elsewhere seek justice. 
 
 A fit. Where? when 'tis 
 
 Frighted from you by power ? 
 
 Amil. And yet take comfort. 
 
 Not all the threats of Rome shall force us to 
 Deliver you. The short time that you stay 
 In Carthage you are safe. No more a pri- 
 soner 
 
 You are enlarged. With full security 
 Consult of your affairs. In what we' may 
 
BELIEVE AS YOU LIST. 
 
 607 
 
 We are your friends. Break up the court. 
 [Exeunt all but Antiochus and the three 
 Merchants. 
 
 1 Merch. Dear sir, 
 Take courage in your liberty. The world 
 Lies open to you. 
 
 2 Merch. We shall meet with comfort 
 When most despaired of by us. 
 
 Ant. Never, never ! 
 
 Poor men, though fallen, may rise, but 
 
 kings like me, 
 
 If once by fortune slaved, are ne'er set free. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 SCENE I. Hoiise 0/Tlaminius at Carthage. 
 
 Enter Flaminius (with two letters], Calistus, 
 
 and Demetrius. 
 
 Flam. You gave him store of gold with 
 
 the instructions 
 That I prescribed him ? 
 
 Cal. Yes, my lord, and on 
 
 The forfeiture of my credit wi f h your honour, 
 Titus will do his parts, and dive into 
 Their deepest secrets. 
 
 Flam. Men of place pay dear 
 
 For their intelligence. It eats out of the 
 
 profit 
 
 Of their employment. But, in a design 
 Of such weight, prodigality is a virtue. 
 The fellow was of trust that you despatched 
 To Rome with the packets ? 
 
 Dem. Yes, sir, he flies not rides. 
 
 By this, if his access answer his care, 
 He is upon return. 
 
 Flam. I am on the stage, 
 
 And if now, in the scene imposed upon me, 
 So full of change nay, a mere labyrinth 
 Of politic windings I show not myself 
 A Protean actor, varying every shape 
 With the occasion, it will hardly poise 
 The expectation. I'll so place my nets 
 That, if this bird want wings to carry him, 
 At one flight, out of Afric, I shall catch him. 
 Calistus ! 
 
 Cal. Sir. 
 
 Flam. Give these at Syracusa 
 
 To the proconsul Marcellus. Let another post 
 To Sardinia with these. You have the picture 
 Of the impostor ? 
 
 Dem. Drawn to the life, my lord. 
 
 Flam. Take it along with you. I have 
 
 commanded, 
 In the senate's name, that they man out 
 
 their gallies, 
 
 And not to let one vessel pass without 
 A strict examination. The sea 
 
 _T'_ I 
 
 Shall not protect him from me. I've charged } 
 
 too 
 
 The garrisons, that keep the passages 
 By land, to let none 'scape, that come from, 
 
 Carthage, 
 Without a curious search. 
 
 Enter Lentulus. 
 
 Lent. I will excuse 
 My visit without preparation. Fear not 
 
 Flam. Who have we here? 
 
 Lent. When you have viewed me better 
 You will resolve yourself. 
 
 flam. My good lord Lentulus ! 
 
 Lent. You name me right. The speed 
 
 that brought me hither 
 As you see accoutred and without a train 
 Suitable to my rank may tell your lordship 
 That the design admits no vacant time ' 
 For compliment. Your advertisements have 
 
 been read 
 
 In open court. The consuls and the senate 
 Are full o wonder and astonishment 
 At the relation. Your care is much 
 Commended, and will find a due reward, 
 When what you have so well begun is ended. 
 In the meantime with their particular thanks 
 They thus salute you. You'll find there that 
 
 they 
 
 (Their good opinion of me far above 
 My hopes or merits) have appointed me 
 Your successor in Carthage, and commit 
 Unto your abler trust the prosecution 
 Of this impostor. 
 
 Flam. As their creature ever 
 
 I shall obey, and serve them. I will leave 
 My freedman to instruct you in the course 
 Of my proceedings. You shall find him able 
 And faithful, on my honour. 
 
 Lent. t I receive him 
 
 At his due value. Can you guess yet 
 
 whither 
 This creature tends. By some passengers I 
 
 met 
 
 I wastold howe'erthestate denies toyield him 
 To our dispose, they will not yet incense us- 
 By giving him protection. 
 
 'Flam. Ere long, 
 
 I hope I shall resolve you. To my [aid] 
 
 Enter Titus. 
 
 Here comes my true discoverer. Be brief, 
 And labour not with circumstance to endear 
 The sendee thou hast done me. 
 
 Titus. As your lordship 
 
 Commanded me, in this Carthaginian habit 
 I made my first approaches, and delivered 
 The gold was given me, as a private present, 
 Sent from the lord Amilcar for his viaticum 
 
BELIEVE AS YOU LIST. 
 
 To another country-. For I did pretend 
 I was his menial sen-ant. 
 
 Flam. Very well. 
 
 Titus. 'Twas entertained almost with 
 
 sacrifice, 
 
 And I, as one most welcome, was admitted 
 Into their turbulent counsel. Many means 
 Were there propounded, whither, and to 
 
 whom, 
 
 Their king Antiochus (for so they style him) 
 Should fly for safety. One urged to the 
 
 Parthian, 
 
 A second into Egypt, and a third 
 To the Batavian. ' But, in conclusion, 
 The corpulent Flamen, that would govern 
 
 all, 
 
 And in his nature would not give allowance 
 To any proposition that was not 
 The child of his own brain, resolved to 
 
 carry 
 'Their May-game prince, covered with a 
 
 disguise, 
 
 To Prusias king of Bithynia. Hi^ opinion 
 Carried it ; and thither, without pause or 
 
 stay, 
 To thank my lord for his bounty, they are 
 
 gone 
 
 Upon my certain knowledge, for I rid 
 Two days and nights along, that I might 
 
 not build 
 
 Upon suppositions. By this they are 
 At their journey's end. 
 
 Flam. With my thanks, there's thy reward. 
 I will take little rest until I have 
 Soured his sweet entertainment. You have 
 
 been 
 In the court of this Prusias. Of what temper 
 
 is he? 
 
 Lent. A well disposed and noble gentle- 
 man, 
 
 And very careful to preserve the peace 
 And quiet of his subjects. 
 
 Flam. I shall find him 
 
 The apter to be wrought on. Do you know 
 
 who is 
 His special favourite ? 
 
 Lent. One that was his tutor, 
 
 A seeming politician, and talks often 
 The end of his ambition is to be 
 A gentleman of Rome. 
 
 Flam. I shall fit him, fear not. 
 
 Your travail's ended mine begins : I take 
 
 my leave. 
 
 Formality of manners now is useless : 
 I long to be a horseback. 
 
 Lent. You have my wishes 
 
 For a fair success. 
 
 Flam. My care shall not be wanting. 
 [E.\-eu7if. 
 
 SCENE II. Capital ^/Prusias, king of 
 Bithynia. 
 
 Eiiter Antiochus and the three Merchants. 
 
 1 .]fc>'ch. This tedious journey, from your 
 majesty's 
 
 Long discontinuance of riding hard, 
 With weariness hath dull'd your spirits. 
 
 2 Merck. ' The Flamen, 
 His corpulency considered, hath held out 
 Beyond imagination. 
 
 3 Mcrch. As often 
 
 As he rode down a hill I did expect 
 The chining of his horse. 
 
 Ant. I wonder more 
 
 How mine sustained his burden, since the 
 
 weight 
 That sits on my more heavy heart would 
 
 crack 
 The sinews of an elephant. 
 
 2 Merck. Tis said 
 That beast hath strength to carry six armed 
 
 men 
 In a turret on his back. 
 
 Ant. True. But the sorrow 
 
 Of a wretched and forsaken king like me 
 Is far more ponderous. 
 
 i Mcrch. O part not, sir, 
 
 From your own strength by yielding to 
 
 despair. 
 
 I am most confident Berecinthius will, 
 From the great king Prusias in his good- 
 ness great 
 
 Bring comfort to you. [Flourish. 
 
 Ant. I am prepared, however. 
 
 Lower I cannot fall. 
 
 Enter Berecinthius. 
 
 3 Merck. Ha ! these are signs 
 Of a glorious entertainment not contempt ! 
 
 Dercc. Bear up, sir. I have done you 
 
 simple service : 
 
 I thank my eloquence and boldness for it. . 
 When would a modest silent fool effect 
 What I have done? But such men are not 
 
 born 
 For great employments. The fox, that 
 
 would confer 
 
 With a lion without fear, must see him often. 
 O for a dozen of rubbers and a bath, 
 And yet I need no tub since I drench 
 
 myself 
 In mine own balsam. 
 
 i Merck. Bal>amum? It smells 
 
 Like a tallow chandler's shop. 
 
 Bcrec. Does it so ? thou thin-gut ! 
 
 Thou thing without moisture ! But I have 
 
 no time 
 
 
BELIEVE AS YOU LIST. 
 
 609 
 
 To answer thee. The great king by my 
 
 means, sir- 
 Ever remember that in his own person, 
 With his fair consort and a gallant train, 
 
 [Flourish. 
 Are come to entertain you. 
 
 Ant. Jove! ifthouart 
 
 Pleased that it shall be so 
 
 Berec. Change not Jove's purpose 
 
 In your slowness to receive it. In your car- 
 riage 
 Express yourself. They come. 
 
 Enter Prusias, his Queen, and Philoxenus. 
 
 Prusias. The strong assurance 
 
 You gave at Carthage to confirm you are 
 The king Antiochus (for so much, from 
 My agent there I've heard) commands me to 
 Believe you are so. And however they, 
 Awed by the Roman greatness, durst not 
 
 lend you 
 
 Aid or protection ; in me you shall find 
 A surer guard. I stand on mine own bases, 
 .-Nor shall or threats or prayers deter me 
 
 from 
 
 Doing a good deed in itself rewarded ; 
 You are welcome to my bosom. 
 
 Ant. All that yet 
 
 I can return you, sir, is thanks, expressed 
 In tears of joy, to find here that compassion 
 Hath not forsook the earth. 
 
 Queen. Alas, good king, 
 
 I pity him! 
 
 Prus. This lady, sir, your servant, 
 
 Presents her duty to you. 
 
 Ant. Pray you forgive me. 
 
 Calamity, my too long rude companion, 
 Hath taught me, gracious madam, to forget 
 Civility and manners. [Kisses her. 
 
 Queen. I ne'er touched 
 
 But the king, my husband's lips, and, as I 
 
 live, 
 He kisses very like him. 
 
 Prus. Here is one 
 
 I dare present to you, for a knowing man 
 In politic designs. But he is present, 
 I should say more else. 
 
 Ant. Your assistance, sir, 
 
 To raise a trod-down king, will well become 
 you. 
 
 Philox. What man can do that is fami- 
 liar with 
 
 The deep directions of Xenophon, 
 Or Aristotle's politics, besides 
 Mine own collections, which some prefer, 
 And with good reason, as they say, before 
 
 'em, 
 Your highness may expect. 
 
 Prus. We will at leisure, 
 
 Consider of the manner and the means 
 How to restore you to your own. 
 
 Queen. And till then 
 
 Suppose yourself in your own court. 
 
 Ant. The gods 
 
 Be sureties for the payment of this debt 
 I stand engaged. Your bounties overwhelm; 
 me. 
 [Flourish. Exeunt all but Berecin- 
 
 thius, and the Merchants. 
 Berec. Ay ! marry this is as it should be I 
 
 Ha! 
 After these storms raised by this Roman 
 
 devil, 
 
 Titus Flaminius you know whom I mean 
 Are we got into the port once. I must 
 
 purge, 
 i Me) 
 
 r erch. Not without cause. 
 Berec. Or my increasing belly 
 
 Will metamorphose me into the shape 
 Of a great tortoise, and I shall appear 
 A cipher, a round man, or what you will. 
 Now jeer at my bulk, and spare not. 
 
 1 Merch. You are pleasant. 
 Berec. Farce thy lean ribs with hope, and 
 
 thou wilt grow to 
 
 Another kind of creature. When our king is 
 Restored, let me consider, as he must be, 
 And I the principal means, I'll first grow 
 
 rich, 
 
 Infinite rich, and build a strange new temple 
 To the goddess that I worship, and so bind 
 
 her 
 To prosper all my purposes. 
 
 2 Merch. Be not rapt so. 
 Berec. Prithee, do not trouble me. First 
 
 I will expel 
 
 The Romans out of Asia. And, so breaking 
 Their reputation in the world, we will 
 Renew cur league with Carthage. Then 
 
 draw to 
 
 Our party the Egyptian Ptolemy, 
 And great Arsaces' issue. I will be 
 The general, and march to Rome, which 
 
 taken, 
 
 I'll fill proud Tiber with the carcases 
 Of men, women, and children. Do not per- 
 suade me, 
 I'll show no mercy ! 
 
 3 Merch. Have the pow'r to hurt first. 
 Berec. Then by the senators, whom I'll 
 
 use as horses, 
 I will be drawn in a chariot, made for my 
 
 bulk, 
 
 In triumph to the capitol, more admired 
 Than Bacchus was in India. Titus Fla- 
 minius 
 
 Our enemy, led like a dog in a chain, 
 As I descend or reascend in slate, 
 
 K R 
 
BELIEVE AS YOU LIST. 
 
 Shall serve for my foot-stool. I will conjure 
 
 him 
 If revenge hath any spells. 
 
 Enter Flaminius with Demetrius. 
 
 Flam. Command the captain 
 
 To wait me with his galley at the next port. 
 
 I'm confident I shall fraught him. I 
 
 [Exit Demetrius. 
 
 i Merck. You are conjuring, 
 
 And see what you have raised. 
 
 Berec. Cybele save me ! 
 
 I do not fear me, Pluto, though thou hast t _ 
 Assumed a shape not to be matched in 
 
 Cocytus ! 
 Why dost thou follow me ? 
 
 Flam. Art thou mad? 
 
 Berec. Thou com'st 
 
 To make me so. How my jelly quakes. 
 
 Avaunt ! 
 What have I to do with thee? 
 
 Fla m . You' 11 know at leisure . 
 
 The time is now too precious. 
 
 [Exit Flaminius. 
 
 Berec. Tis vanished. 
 
 Sure, 'twas an apparition. 
 
 1 Merck. I fear 
 A fatal one to us. 
 
 2 Merck. We may easily guess at 
 The cause that brings him hither. 
 
 3 Merck. . Now, if ever, 
 Confirm the king 
 
 i Merck. Against this battery 
 
 New works are to be raised, or we are 
 
 ruined. 
 Berec. What think you of this rampire ? 
 
 'twill hold out ! 
 
 And he shall shoot through an* through it but 
 I'll cross him. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE III. Court of Prusias. 
 Enter Flaminius and Philoxenus. 
 Flam. What we have said, the consuls 
 
 will make good, 
 And the glad senate ratify. 
 
 Philox. They have so 
 
 Obliged me for this favour, that there is not 
 A service of that difficulty, from which 
 I would decline. In this rest confident, 
 I am your own and sure. 
 
 Flam. You shall do, sir, 
 
 A noble office in it. And, however 
 : W 7 e thank you for the courtesy, the profit 
 And certain honours, the world's terror, 
 
 Rome, 
 
 . In thankfulness cannot but shower upon you, 
 I Are wholly yours. How happy I esteem 
 i Myself, in this employment, to meet with 
 A wise and provident statesman. 
 
 Philox. My good lord ! 
 
 Flam. I flatter not in speaking truth. You 
 
 are so, 
 
 And, in this prompt alacrity, confirm it. 
 Since a wise forecast in the managing 
 Worldly affairs is the true wisdom rashne?s, 
 The schoolmistress of idiots. You well know 
 Charity begins at home, and that we are 
 Nearest unto ourselves. Fools build upon 
 Imaginary hopes, but wise men ever 
 On real certainties. A tender conscience, 
 Like a glowworm, shows a seeming fire in 
 
 darkness, 
 
 But, set near to the glorious light of honour, 
 It is invisible. As you are a statesman 
 And a master in that art you must remove 
 All rubs tho' with a little wrong some- 
 times 
 
 That may put by the bias of your counsels 
 From the fair mark they aim at. 
 
 Philox. You are read well 
 
 In worldly passages. 
 
 Flam. I barter with you 
 
 Such trifles as I have. But, if you pleased, 
 You could instruct me that philosophy 
 And policy, in states, are not such strangers 
 As men o'er curious and precise would have 
 
 them. 
 
 But to the point. With speed get me access 
 To the king your pupil. And 'tis well for him 
 That he hath such a tutor. Rich Bithynia 
 Was never so indebted to a patriot, 
 And vigilant watchman, for her peace and 
 
 safety, 
 As to yourself. 
 
 Philox. Without boast I may whisper 
 I have done something in that way. 
 
 Flam. All, in all ! 
 
 Fame, filling her loud trump with truth, 
 
 proclaims it ! 
 
 But, when it shall be understood you are 
 The principal means, by which a dangerous 
 
 serpent, 
 
 Warm'd in your sovereign's bosom, is de- 
 livered 
 To have his sting and venomous teeth pulled 
 
 out ; 
 
 And the ruin, in a willing grant, avoided, 
 Which in detaining him falls on the king- 
 dom, 
 
 Not Prusias alone, but his saved people, 
 Will raise your providence altars ! 
 
 Philox. ' Let me entreat 
 
 Your patience some few minutes. I'll bring 
 
 the king 
 In person to you. 
 
 Flam. Do, and, this effected, 
 
 Think of the ring you are privileged to wear 
 When a Roman gentleman ; and, after that, 
 
BELIEVE AS YOU LIST. 
 
 611 
 
 | Of provinces and purple ! 
 
 [Exit Philoxenus. 
 I must smile now 
 
 In my consideration with what glibness 
 My flatteries, oiled with hopes of future 
 
 greatness, 
 Are swallowed by this dull pate. But it is 
 
 not 
 
 Worth the observation. Most of our seem- 
 ing statesmen 
 Are caught in the same noose. .. ^fr**" 
 
 Prusias and Philoxenus approaching. 
 
 Returned so soon 
 And the king with him ! But his angry 
 
 forehead 
 Furrowed with frowns. No matter, I am 
 
 for him. 
 Prus. From the people of Rome so 
 
 quick ? Hath he brought with him 
 Letters of credence, and authority 
 To treat with us? 
 
 Philox. I read them. 
 
 Prus. What can he 
 
 Propound which I must fear to hear? I 
 
 would 
 Continue in fair terms with that warlike 
 
 nation, 
 
 Ever provided I wrong not myself 
 In the least point of honour. 
 
 Philox. To the full 
 
 He will instruct your majesty, 
 
 Flam. So may 
 
 Felicity, as a page, attend your person, 
 As you embrace the friendly counsel sent 
 
 you 
 From the Roman senate. 
 
 Prus. With my thanks to you 
 
 Their instrument, if the advice be such, 
 As by this preparation you would have me 
 Conceive it is, I shall and 'twill become 
 
 me 
 Receive it as a favour. 
 
 Flam. Know then, Rome, 
 
 In her pious care that you may still increase 
 The happiness you live on ; and your sub- 
 jects, 
 
 Under the shadow of their own vines, eat 
 The fruit they yield them their soft musical 
 
 feasts 
 
 Continuing, as they do yet, unaffrighted 
 With the harsh noise of war entreats as low 
 As her known power and majesty can 
 
 descend, 
 
 You would return, with due equality, 
 A willingness to preserve what she hath con- 
 quered 
 From change and innovation. 
 
 Prus. I attempt not 
 
 To trouble her, nor ever will. 
 
 Flam. Fix there ! 
 
 Or if, for your own good, you will move 
 
 further, 
 
 Make Rome your thankful debtor by sur- 
 rendering 
 
 Into her hands the false impostor, that 
 Seeks to disturb her quiet. 
 
 Prus. This I looked for : 
 
 And that I should find mortal poison 
 
 wrapp'd up 
 In your candied pills. Must I, because you 
 
 say so, 
 
 Believe that this most miserable king is 
 A false affronter ? who, with arguments 
 Unanswerable, and near miraculous proofs, 
 Confirms himself the true Antiochus. 
 Or is it not sufficient that you Romans, 
 In your unsatisfied ambition, have 
 Seized with an unjust gripe on half the 
 
 world, 
 Which you call conquest? If that I consent 
 
 not 
 
 To have my innocence soiled with that pol- 
 lution 
 
 You are willingly smeared o'er with 
 
 Flam. Pray you, hear me 
 
 Prus. I will be first heard. Shall I, for 
 
 your ends, 
 Infringe my princely word? or break the 
 
 laws 
 
 Of hospitality ? defeat myself 
 Of the certain honour to restore a king 
 Unto his own ? and what you Romans have 
 Extorted and keep from him ? Far be't from 
 
 me! 
 
 I will not buy your amity at such loss. 
 So it be to all after times remembered 
 I held it not sufficient to live 
 As one born only for myself, and I 
 Desire no other monument ! 
 
 Flam. I grant 
 
 It is a specious thing to leave behind us 
 A fair report, though in the other world 
 We have no feeling of it : and to lend 
 A desperate, though fruitless, aid to such 
 As Fate, not to be altered, hath marked out 
 Examples of calamity, may appear 
 A glorious ornament : but here's a man, 
 The oracle of your kingdom, that can tell 
 
 you, 
 
 When there's no probability it may be 
 Effected, 'tis mere madness to attempt it. 
 Philox. A true position. 
 Flam. Your inclination 
 
 Is honourable, but your power deficient, 
 To put your purpose into act. 
 
 Prus. My power? 
 
6l2 
 
 BELIEVE AS YOU LIST. 
 
 Flam. Is not to be disputed, if weighed 
 
 truly 
 With the petty kings your neighbours ; but, 
 
 when balanced 
 With the globes and sceptres of my mistress 
 
 Rome, 
 Will but 1 spare comparisons, but you 
 
 build on 
 
 Your strength to justify the fact. Alas, 
 It is a feeble reed, and leaning on it 
 Will wound your hand much sooner than 
 
 support you. 
 
 You keep in pay, 'tis true, some peace- 
 trained troops, 
 Which avre your neighbours ; but consider, 
 
 when 
 Our eagles shall display their sail-stretched 
 
 wings, 
 
 Hovering o'er our legions, what defence 
 Can you expect from yours? 
 
 Philox. Urge that point home. 
 
 Flam. Our old victorious bands are ever 
 
 ready ; 
 And such, as are not our confed'rates, 
 
 tremble, 
 To think where next the storm shall fall, 
 
 with horror. 
 
 Philoxenus knows it. Will you to help one 
 You should contemn, and is'not wortli your 
 
 pity, 
 Pull it on your own head? Your neighbour 
 
 Carthage 
 
 Would smile to see your error. Letmepaint 
 The danger to you ere it come. Imagine 
 Our legions, and the auxiliary forces 
 Of such as are our friends and tributaries, 
 Drawn up Bithynia covered with our. 
 
 armies 
 
 All places promising defence blocked up 
 With our armed troops the siege con- 
 tinuing - 
 
 Famine within and force without disabling 
 All opposition then the army entered ! 
 As victor}' is insolent, the rapes 
 Of virgins and grave matrons reverend old 
 
 men 
 With their last groans accusing you your 
 
 city 
 
 And palace sacked 
 
 Philox. Dear sir ! 
 
 Flam. And you yourself 
 
 Captived ; and, after that, chained by the 
 
 neck ; 
 Your matchless queen, yourchildren, officers, 
 
 friends, 
 
 Waiting, as scorns of fortune, to give lustre 
 To the victor's triumph. 
 
 Philox. I am in a fever 
 
 To think upon it. 
 
 Flam. As a friend I have delivered. 
 
 And more than my commission warrants me, 
 This caution to you. But now Peace or 
 
 War? 
 
 If the first I entertain it. If the latter, 
 I'll instantly defy you ! 
 
 Philox. Pray you say Peace, sir, 
 
 Prus. On what conditions ? 
 
 Flam. The delivery 
 
 Of this seductor and his complices. 
 On no terms else and suddenly. 
 
 Prus. How can I 
 
 Dispense with my faith given? 
 
 Philox. I'll yield you reasons. 
 
 Prus. Let it be Peace then, oh. Pray you 
 
 call in [Exit Philoxeiius, 
 
 The wretched man. In the meantime I'll 
 
 consider 
 How to excuse myself. 
 
 Flam. While I, in silence, 
 
 Triumph in my success, and meditate 
 On the reward that crowns it. A strong 
 
 army 
 Could have done no more than I alone, and 
 
 with 
 A little breath, have effected. 
 
 Enter Queen, Antiochus, Berecinthius, the 
 three Merchants, Philoxenus, and Deme- 
 trius. 
 
 Ant. Goodness guard me ! 
 
 Whom do I look on ? Sir, come further from 
 
 him. 
 
 He is infectious ; so swollen with mischief, 
 And strange impieties ; his language too 
 So full of siren sorceries, if you hear him 
 There is no touch of moral honesty, 
 Though rampired in your soul, but will fly 
 
 from you. 
 The mandrake's shrieks, the aspick's deadly 
 
 tooth, 
 
 The tears of crocodiles, or the basilisk's eye 
 Kill not so soon, nor with that violence 
 As he who, in his cruel nature, holds 
 Antipathy with mercy. 
 
 Prus. I am sorry 
 
 A /it. Sorry for what? That you had an 
 
 intent 
 
 To be a good and just prince ? Are com- 
 passion 
 And charity grown crimes ? 
 
 Prus. The gods can witness 
 
 How much I would do for you. And but that 
 
 Necessity of state 
 
 Ant. Make not the gods 
 
 Guilty of your breach of faith ! From them, 
 
 you find not 
 
 Treachery commanded ; and the state, that 
 seeks 
 
BELIEVE AS YOU LIST. 
 
 613 
 
 Strength from disloyalty, in the quicksands 
 
 which 
 
 She trusteth in, is swallowed. Tis in vain 
 To argue with you. If I am condemned, 
 Defences come too late. What do you 
 
 purpose 
 Shall fall on poor Antiochus ? 
 
 Prus. For my 
 
 Security there being no means left else 
 Against my will I must deliver you. 
 
 Ant. To whom? 
 
 Enter Guard. 
 
 Prus. To Rome's ambassador. 
 
 A fit. O, the Furies 
 
 Exceed not him in cruelty ! Remember 
 I am a king ! your royal guest ! Your right 
 
 hand, 
 The pawn and pledge that should defend me 
 
 from 
 
 My bloody enemy ! Did you accuse 
 The Carthaginian senate for denying 
 Aid and protection to me giving hope 
 To my despairing' fortunes ? Or but now 
 Raise me to make my fall more terrible ? 
 Did you tax them of weakness, and will 
 
 you 
 
 So far transcend them in a coward fear, 
 Declaimed against by your own mouth ? O, 
 
 sir, 
 ; If you dare not give me harbour, set me safe 
 
 yet 
 
 In any desert, where this serpent's hisses 
 May not be heard ; and to the gods I'll speak 
 
 you 
 A prince both wise and honourable. 
 
 Prus. Alas ! 
 
 It is not in my power. 
 
 Ant. As an impostor 
 
 Take off my head then. At the least so far 
 Prove merciful. Or with any torture ease me 
 Of the burthen of a life : rather than yield me 
 To this politic state hangman. 
 
 Flam. This to me is 
 
 A kind of ravishing music ! 
 
 Queen. I have lived 
 
 For many years, sir, your obedient handmaid, 
 Nor ever in a syllable presumed 
 To cross your purpose. But now, with a 
 
 sorrow 
 
 As great almost as this poor king's, beholding 
 Your poverty of spirit for it does 
 Deserve no better name I must put off 
 Obsequiousness and silence, and take to me 
 The warrant and authority of your queen, 
 And, as such, give you counsel. 
 
 Prus. You displease me. 
 
 Queen. The physic promising health is 
 ever bitter. 
 
 Will you that are a man nay 
 
 Hear me. 
 more, 
 
 A king of men do that, forced to it by fear, 
 Which common men would scorn ? I am a 
 
 woman 
 
 A weak and feeble woman yet before 
 I would deliver up my bondwoman, 
 And have it told I did it by constraint, 
 I would endure to have these hands cut off, 
 
 These eyes pull'd out 
 
 Prus. I'll hear no more. 
 
 Queen. Do then, 
 
 As a king should. 
 Prus. Away with her ! 
 
 [They bear off the Queen. 
 Flam. My affairs 
 
 Exact a quick despatch. 
 
 Prus. He's yours. Conceive 
 
 What I would say. Farewell. 
 
 [Exeunt Prusias and Philoxenus. 
 
 Ant. That I had been 
 
 Born deaf ! I will not grace thy triumph, 
 
 tyrant, 
 With one request of favour. 
 
 [Exit Antiochus guarded. 
 
 Berec. My good lord ! 
 
 Flam. Your will, dear Flamen ? 
 
 Berec. I perceive you are like 
 
 To draw a great charge upon you. My fat 
 
 bulk, 
 And these my lions, will not be kept for a 
 
 little. 
 
 Nor would we be chargeable. And, there- 
 fore, kissing 
 Your honoured hands, I take my leave. 
 
 Flam. By no means, 
 
 I have been busy, but I shall find leisure 
 To treat with you in another place. 
 
 Berec. I would not 
 
 Put your lordship to the trouble. 
 
 Flam. It will be 
 
 A pleasure rather. Bring them all away. 
 Berec. The comfort is, whether I drown or 
 
 hang 
 
 I shall not be long about it. I'll preserve 
 The dignity of my family. 
 
 Flam. 'Twill become you. 
 
 [Exeunt omnes. 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 SCENE I. A Street in Callipolis. 
 Enter Metellus, Proconsul of "Lusii^ma., and 
 
 Sempronius, a Captain. 
 Met. A revolt in Asia ? 
 Scmp. Yes. On the report 
 
 The long-thought dead Antiochus lives. 
 Met. I heard 
 
6i 4 
 
 BELIEVE AS YOU LIST. 
 
 Such a one appeared in Carthage, but sup- 
 pressed 
 
 By Titus Flaminius, my noble friend, 
 Who, by his letters, promised me a visit 
 If his designs, as I desire they may, 
 Succeeded to his wishes. 
 
 Semp. Till you behold him 
 
 I can bring your honour, if you please, where 
 
 you 
 ; May find fair entertainment. 
 
 Met. From whom, captain ? 
 
 Semp. A new rigg'd pinnace, that put off 
 
 from Corinth, 
 
 And is arrived among us tight and yare 
 Nor comes she to pay custom for her fraught, 
 But to impose a tax, on such as dare 
 Presume to look on her, which smock 
 
 gamesters offer 
 Sooner than she .demands it. 
 
 Met. Some fresh courtezan 
 
 Upon mine honour ! 
 
 Semp. You are i' the right, my lord. 
 
 Met. And there lies your intelligence ? 
 Semp. True, my good lord. 
 
 'Tis a discovery will not shame a captain 
 When he lies in garrison. Since I was a 
 
 trader 
 
 In such commodities I never saw 
 Her equal. I was ravished with the object, 
 And, would you visit her, I believe you'd 
 
 write 
 Yourself of my opinion. 
 
 Met. Fie upon thee ! 
 
 I am old. 
 
 Semp. And therefore have the greater use 
 Of such a cordial. All Medea's drugs, 
 And her charms to boot, that made old 
 
 ^Eson young, 
 
 Were nothing to her touch. Your viper wine, 
 So much in practice with grey-bearded 
 
 gallants, 
 
 But vappa to the nectar of her lips. 
 She hath done miracles since she came. A 
 
 usurer, 
 
 Full of the gout, and more diseases than 
 His crutches could support, used her rare 
 
 physic 
 
 But one short night, and rising in the morn- 
 ing, he 
 Danced a lavolta ! 
 
 Met. Prithee, leave thy fooling, 
 
 And talk of something else. 
 
 Semp. The whole world yields not 
 
 Apter discourse. She hath all the qualities 
 Conducing to the sport ; sings like a siren ; 
 Dances, as the gross element of earth 
 Had no part in her ; her discourse, so full 
 Of eloquence and prevailing, there is nothing 
 
 She asks to be denied her. Had she desired 
 
 My captain's place, I had cashier'd myself : j 
 And, should she beg your proconsulship, if ! 
 
 you heard her, 
 'Twere hers upon my life. 
 
 Met. She should be damned first, 
 
 And her whole tribe ! 
 
 Enter Flaminius. 
 
 My lord Flaminius, welcome ! ' 
 I have long been full of expectation 
 Of your great design, and hope a fair success 
 Hath crowned your travail in your bringing 
 
 in 
 This dangerous impostor. 
 
 Flam. At the length 
 
 I have him and his complices. 
 
 Met. I'll not now 
 
 Enquire how you achieved him, but would 
 
 know, 
 
 Since 'tis referr'd to you, what punishment 
 Should fall upon him ? 
 
 Flam. If you please, in private, 
 
 I will acquaint you. 
 
 Met. Captain, let me entreat you 
 
 To meditate on your woman in the next 
 
 room. 
 We may have employment for you. 
 
 Semp. I'd rather 
 
 She would command my service. 
 
 [Exit Sempronius. 
 
 Met. Pray you sit. 
 
 Flam. Now, my good lord, I ask your 
 
 grave advice 
 What course to take. 
 
 Met. That, in my judgment, needs not 
 Long consultation. He is a traitor, 
 And, his process framed, must, as a traitor, 
 
 suffer 
 A death due to his treason. 
 
 Flam. There's much more 
 
 To be considered, there being a belief, 
 Dispersed almost through Asia, that he is 
 The true Antiochus ; and we must decline 
 The certain scandal it will draw upon 
 The Roman government, if he die the man 
 He is by the most received to be ; and there- 
 fore, 
 
 Till that opinion be removed, we must 
 Use some quaint practice, that may work 
 
 upon 
 
 His hopes or fears, to draw a free confession 
 That he was suborned to take on him the 
 
 name 
 He still maintains. 
 
 Met. That, torture will wrest from him. 
 I know no readier way. 
 
 Flam. If you had seen 
 
 His carriage in Carthage and Bithynia 
 You would not think so. Since I had him in 
 
BELIEVE AS YOU LIST. 
 
 615 
 
 My power I have used all possible means 
 
 that might 
 
 Force him into despair, and so to do 
 A violence on himself. He hath not tasted 
 These three days any sustenance, and still 
 Continues fasting. 
 
 Met. Keep him to that diet 
 
 Some few hours more. 
 
 Flam. I am of opinion rather, 
 
 Some competence offered him, and a place 
 
 of rest, 
 
 Where he might spend the remnant of his days 
 In pleasure and security, might do more 
 Than fear of death or torture. 
 
 Met. It may be 
 
 There are such natures : and now I think 
 
 upon't, 
 
 I can help you to a happy instrument 
 To motion it. Your ear. [ Whispers. 
 
 Flam. 'Tis wondrous well, 
 
 And may prove fortunate. 
 
 Met. 'Tis but a trial. 
 
 However, I will send for her. 
 
 Flam. Pray you do. 
 
 She shall have my directions. 
 
 Met. What botches 
 
 Are made in the shop of policy ! 
 
 Flam. So they cover 
 
 The nakedness we must conceal, it skills not. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE II. The Prison in Callipolis. 
 Enter Jailor, with a poniard and a halter. 
 Jailor. Why should I feel compunction 
 
 for that 
 Which yields me profit ? Ha ! a prisoner's 
 
 tears 
 Should sooner pierce flint, or Egyptian 
 
 marble 
 
 Than move us to compassion. Yet I know not 
 Why, the sufferings of this miserable man 
 Work strangely on me. Some say he is a 
 
 king. 
 
 It may be so ; but, if they hold out thus, 
 I'm sure he's like to die a beggar's death, 
 And starve for hunger. I am, by a servant 
 Of the lord Flaminius, strictly commanded, 
 Before I have raised him out of the dungeon, to 
 Lay these instruments in his view. To what 
 
 end 
 
 I'm not to enquire, but I am certain, 
 After his long fast, they are viands that 
 Will hardly be digested. Do you hear, sir ? 
 Ant. [below.] If thou'rt my death'sman, 
 
 welcome ! 
 
 Jailor. I so pity you 
 
 That I wish I had commission, as you rise, 
 To free you from all future misery, 
 To knock your brains out. 
 
 Ant. Would thou hadst ! 
 
 Jailor. You have 
 
 The liberty to air yourself, and that 
 
 Is all I can afford 'you. Fast, and be merry; 
 
 I am elsewhere called on. [Exit Jailor. 
 
 Ant. Death ! as far as faintness 
 
 Will give me leave to chide thee, I am angry 
 
 Thou comest not at me. No attendance? 
 
 Famine, 
 
 Thy meagre harbinger, flatters me with hope- 
 Of thy so wished arrival, yet thy coming 
 Is still deferred. Why? Is it in thy scorn 
 To take a lodging here ? I am a king, 
 And know that not the reverence that waits 
 Upon the potent sceptre, nor the guards 
 Of faithful subjects ; neither threats nor 
 
 prayers 
 
 Of friends or kindred ; nor yet walls of brass 
 Or iron, should their proud height knock at 
 
 the moon, 
 
 Can stop thy passage, when thou art resolved 
 To force thy entrance : yet a king, in reason, 
 By the will of fate severed from common men. 
 Should have the privilege and prerogative, 
 When he is willing, to disrobe himself 
 Of this cobweb garment, life, to have thee- 
 
 ready 
 To do thy fatal office. What have we here > 
 
 Enter Flaminius, Metellus, andSempronius 
 above. 
 
 A poniard, and a halter ! From the objects 
 
 I am easily instructed to what end 
 
 They were prepared. Either will serve the 
 
 turn 
 
 To ease the burthen of a wretched life. 
 Or thus [lifts the dagger] or thus [lifts the- 
 
 halter\ in death ! I must commend 
 The Roman courtesy. How am I grown 
 So cheap and vile in their opinion that 
 I am denied an executioner ? 
 Will not the loss of my life quit the cost ? 
 O rare frugality ! Will they force me to 
 Be mine own hangman ? Every slave, that's 
 
 guilty 
 Of crimes not to be named, receives such 
 
 favour 
 
 By the judge's doom, and is my innocence 
 The oppressed innocence of a star-crossed 
 
 king- 
 Held more contemptible ? My better ange!, 
 Though wanting power to alter fate, discovers 
 Their hellish purposes. Yes yes 'tis so. 
 
 " ' body's death will not suffice, they aim at 
 My soul's perdition. And shall I, to shun 
 A. few more hours of misery, betray her ? 
 No, she is free still, and shall so return 
 From whence she came, and in her pureness 
 
 triumph. 
 
6i6 
 
 BELIEVE AS YOU LIST. 
 
 Their tyranny chained and fettered 
 
 [Sinks back from -weakness. 
 Flam. O, the devil ! 
 
 Thou art weak. This will not do. 
 
 [Orders the Jailor to take in food. 
 Met. Mark how he'll stand 
 
 The second charge. 
 
 Semp. The honour is reserved 
 
 For the pretty tempting friend I brought 
 my life on't. 
 
 Enter Jailor, with brown bread, and a 
 wooden dish of water. 
 
 Jailor. Here, sir, take this. Tho' coarse 
 
 it will kill hunger. 
 It is your daily pittance. Yet, when you 
 
 please, 
 Your commons may be mended. 
 
 Ant. Show me the way. 
 
 Jailor. Confess yourself to be a cozening 
 
 knave 
 
 The matter's feasible. But, if you will be 
 Still king of the crickets, feed on this and live. 
 You shall not say we starved you. 
 
 [Exit Jailor. 
 
 Ant. Stay, I beseech thee, 
 
 And take thy cruel pity back again 
 To him that sent it. This is a tyranny 
 That doth transcend all precedents. My soul, 
 But even now, this lump of clay, her prison, 
 Of itself, in the want of nourishment, opening, 
 Had shook off her sick feathers, and prepared 
 Herself to make a noble flight, as set 
 At liberty, and now this reparation 
 Again immures. You ! for whose curious 
 
 palates 
 
 The elements are ransacked, look upon 
 This bill of fare, by my penurious steward, 
 Necessity, served to a famished king ; 
 And, warned by my exam pie, when your tables 
 Crack not with the weight of deer, and far- 
 fetched dainties, 
 Dispute not with heaven's bounties. What 
 
 shall I do? 
 
 If I refuse to touch and taste these coarse 
 And homely cakes, I hasten my own fate, 
 And so, with willingness, embrace a sin 
 I hitherto have fled from. No I'll eat ; 
 And if, at this poor rate, life can continue, 
 I will not throw it off. 
 
 Flam. I pine with envy 
 
 To see his constancy. [A lute is heard. 
 
 Met. Bid your property enter 
 
 And use her subtlest magic. 
 
 Semp. I have already 
 
 Acquainted her with her cue. The music 
 
 ushers 
 
 Her personal appearance. [A song. 
 
 Ant. From what hand 
 
 And voice do I receive this charity? 
 
 It is unusual at such a feast : 
 
 But I miscall it. 'Tis some new-found engine 
 
 Mounted to batter me ! Ha ! 
 
 Enter Courtezan. 
 
 Court. If I were not 
 
 More harsh and rugged in my disposition 
 Than thy tormentors, these eyes had out- 
 stripped 
 My tongue, and, with a shower of tears, had 
 
 told you 
 Compassion brings me hither. 
 
 Ant. That I could 
 
 Believe so much, as, by my miseries ! 
 (An oath I dare not break) I gladly would ; 
 Pity methinks, I know not how, appears 
 So lovely in you. 
 
 Court. It being spent upon 
 
 A subject, in each circumstance deserving 
 An universal sorrow, tho' 'tis simple 
 It cannot be deformed. May I presume 
 To kiss your royal hand, for sure you are not 
 Less than a king ! 
 
 Ant. Hive I one witness living 
 
 Dares only think so much ? 
 
 Court. I do believe it, 
 
 And will die in that belief; and nothing 
 
 more 
 
 Confirms it than your patience, not to be 
 Found in a meaner man. Not all the trim I 
 Of the majesty you were born to, tho' set off j 
 With pomp and glorious lustre, showed you i 
 
 in 
 
 Such full perfection as, at this instant, 
 Shines round about you, in your constant ' 
 
 bearing 
 
 Your adverse fortune a degree beyond 
 All magnanimity that ever was 
 Canonized by mankind ! 
 
 Ant. Astonishment 
 
 And wonder seizes on me. Pray what are i 
 
 you? 
 Court. Without your pity nearer to the i 
 
 grave 
 
 Than the malice of prevailing enemies 
 Can hurry you. 
 
 Ant. My pity ! I will part with 
 
 So much from what I have engrossed to 
 
 mourn 
 
 Mine own afflictions, as I freely grant it. 
 Will you have me weep before I know the 
 
 cause 
 In which I may serve you ? 
 
 Court. You already have 
 
 Spent too much of that stock. Pray you, 
 
 first hear me, 
 
 And wrong not my simplicity with doubts 
 Of that I shall deliver. I am a virgin 
 
BELIEVE AS YOU LIST. 
 
 617 
 
 Semp. If I had not toyed with her myself 
 I should now believe her ! 
 
 Court. And, tho' not of the eagle's brood 
 
 descended 
 From a noble family. 
 
 Semp. Her mother sold her 
 
 To a Corinthian lecher at thirteen, 
 As 'tis reported. 
 
 Met. Be silent, I command you 
 
 Ant. To be a virgin, and so well derived 
 In my opinion, fair one, are not things 
 To be lamented. 
 
 Court. If I had not fallen 
 
 From my clear height of chastity I confess 
 
 it 
 
 In my too fonvard wishes. That, sir, is 
 A sin I am guilty of ! I am in love, sir, 
 Impotently mad in love and my desires 
 Not to be stopped in their career. 
 
 Ant. With whom 
 
 Are you so taken ? 
 
 Court. With your own dear self, sir, 
 
 Behold me not with such a face of wonder : 
 It is too sad a truth. The story of 
 Your most deplorable fortune at the first 
 
 warmed me 
 With more than modest heats ; but, since I 
 
 saw you, 
 
 I am all fire, and shall turn cinders, if 
 You show not mercy to me. 
 
 Ant. Foolish creature, 
 
 If I could suppose this true, and met your 
 wishes 
 
 With equal ardour, as I am, what 
 
 shadow 
 
 Df seeming hope is left you to arrive at 
 The port you long for ? 
 
 Court. If you will be good 
 
 Unto yourself the voyage is accomplished, 
 [t is but putting off a poisoned shirt, 
 Which in the wearing eats into your flesh, 
 And must, against your will, be soon forced 
 
 from you : 
 The malice of your enemies tendering to you 
 Vlore true security, and safety, than 
 The violence of your friends' and servants' 
 
 wishes 
 Could heap upon you. 
 
 Ant. 'Tis impossible. 
 
 Clear this dark mystery, for yet, to me, 
 You speak in riddles. 
 
 Court. I will make it easy 
 
 To your understanding, and thus sweeten 
 it \Ofiers to kiss him. 
 
 In the delivery. 'Tis but to disclaim, 
 With the continual cares that wait upon it, 
 The title of a king. 
 
 Ant. Devil Flaminius ! 
 
 I find you here ! 
 
 Court. Why do you turn away ? 
 
 The counsel that I offer, if you please 
 To entertain it, as long-wished companions, 
 In her right hand, brings liberty and a calm, 
 After so many storms. And you no sooner 
 Shall, to the world, profess you were suborned 
 To this imposture tho' / still believe 
 It is a truth but, with a free remission 
 For the offence, I, as your better genius, 
 Will lead you, from this place of horror, to 
 A paradise of delight, to which compared, 
 Thessalian Tempe, or that garden, where 
 Venus with her revived Adonis spend 
 Their pleasant hours, and make from their 
 
 embraces 
 
 A perpetuity of happiness, 
 Deserve not to be named. There, in an 
 
 arbour, 
 
 Of itself supported o'er a bubbling spring, 
 With purple hyacinths and roses covered, 
 We will enjoy the sweets of life ; nor shall 
 Arithmetic sum up the varieties of 
 Our amorous dalliance. Our viands such, 
 As not alone shall nourish appetite, 
 But strengthen our performance. And, 
 
 when call'd for, 
 
 The quiristers of the air shall give us music : 
 And, when we slumber, in a pleasant dream 
 You shall behold the mountains of vexations 
 Which you have heaped upon the Roman 
 
 tyrants 
 
 In your free resignation of your kingdom, 
 And smile at their afflictions. 
 Ant. Hence, you siren ! 
 
 Court. Are you displeased ? 
 Ant. Were all your flatteries 
 
 Aimed at this mark? Will not my virtuous 
 
 anger, 
 Assisted by contempt and scorn, yield 
 
 strength 
 To spurn thee from me? But thou art some 
 
 whore 
 Some common whore and, if thou hast a 
 
 soul, 
 
 As in such creatures it is more than doubted) 
 't hath its being in thy wanton veins, 
 And will, with thy expense of blood, become 
 Like that of sensual beasts ! 
 Met. This will not do. 
 
 Ant. How did my enemies lose them- 
 selves to think, 
 A painted prostitute with her charms could 
 
 conquer 
 What malice, at the height, could not 
 
 subdue. 
 
 s all their stock of malice so consumed, 
 As, out of penury, they are forced to use 
 A whore for their last agent ? 
 
 Court. If thou wcrt 
 
6i8 
 
 BELIEVE AS YOU LIST. 
 
 Ten times a king thou liest. I am a lady 
 A gamesome lady of the last edition ; 
 And, tho' I physic noblemen, no whore. 
 Met. He hath touched her freehold ! 
 Scmp. Now let her alone, 
 
 And she will worry him . 
 
 Court. Have I lived to have 
 
 My courtesies refused ? That I had leave 
 To pluck thy eyes out ! 
 Are you so coy? Thou art a man of snow, 
 And thy father got thee in the wane of the 
 
 moon ! 
 
 But scorn me not. 'Tis true I was set on 
 By the higher powers ; but now, for all the 
 
 wealth 
 
 In Asia, thou shalt not have the favour, 
 Though, prostrate on the earth, thou wouldst 
 
 implore it 
 To kiss my shoestring. 
 
 Enter Jailor and others. 
 
 Flam. We lose time, my lord. 
 
 Court. Foh ! how he stinks ! I will not 
 
 wear a rag more 
 That he hath breathed on. 
 
 Met. Without more ado 
 
 Let him have his sentence. 
 
 Flam. Drag him hence. 
 
 Ant. Are you there? 
 
 Nay then 
 
 Flam. I will not hear him speak. My 
 
 anger 
 Is lost. Why linger you ? 
 
 Ant. Death ends all, 
 
 . however ! [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE III.- -Place of Execution, Callipolis. 
 Enter Offic'irs, leading in Berecinthius 
 
 and ist Merchant, with halters. 
 Berec. What a skeleton they've made of 
 
 me ! Starve me first, 
 And hang me after ! Is there no conscience 
 
 extant 
 
 To a man of my order ? They have de- 
 graded me, 
 Ta'en away my lions, and to make me roar 
 
 like them 
 They've pared the flesh off from my fingers' 
 
 ends, 
 And then laughed at me ! I've been kept 
 
 in darkness 
 
 These five long days no visitants but devils, 
 Or men in shapes more horrid, coming at 
 
 me. 
 
 A chafing dish of coals and a butcher's knife 
 I found set by me and, inquiring why, 
 I was told that I had flesh enough of mir 
 
 own, 
 And, if that I were hungry, I might freely 
 
 Off. 
 Ber 
 
 Eat mine own carbonadoes, and be chro- 
 
 nicled 
 For a cannibal never read of ! 
 
 Will you walk, sir? 
 erec. I shall come too soon, tho' I creep, 
 
 to such a breakfast ! 
 I ever use to take my portion sitting : 
 Hanging in the air, it is not physical. 
 
 Off. Time flies away, sir. 
 
 Berec. Why let him fly, sir. Or, if you 
 
 please to stay him, 
 And bind up the bold knave's wings, make 
 
 use of my collar. 
 There's substance in it, I can assure your 
 
 worship, 
 And I thank your wisdom that you make 
 
 distinction 
 Between me and this starveling. He goes 
 
 to it 
 Like a greyhound for killing of sheep in a 
 
 twopenny slip, 
 
 But here's a cable will weigh up an anchor, 
 And yet, if I may have fail play, ere I die 
 Ten to one I shall make it crack. 
 
 Off. What would you have, sir ? 
 
 Berec. My ballast about me. I shall ne'er 
 
 sail well else 
 To the other world. My bark you see wants 
 
 stowage. 
 But give me half a dozen hens, and a loin of 
 
 veal 
 To keep it steady, and you may spare the 
 
 trouble 
 
 Of pulling me by the legs, or setting the knot 
 Under mine ear. This drum, well braced, 
 
 defies 
 Such foolish courtesies. 
 
 i Merch. This mirth, good Flamen, 
 
 Is out of season. Let us think of Elysium 
 If we die honest men ; or what we there 
 Shall suffer from the furies. 
 
 Berec. Thou'rt a fool 
 
 To think there are or gods or goddesses, 
 For the latter, if that they had any power, 
 Mine, being the mother of them, would have 
 
 helped me. 
 They are things we make ourselves. Or, 
 
 grant there should be 
 A hell, or an Elysium, sing I cannot 
 To Orpheus' harp in the one, nor dance in 
 
 the other. 
 
 But if there be a Cerberus, if I serve not 
 To make three sops for his three heads, that 
 
 may serve 
 For something more than an ordinary break- 
 
 fast, 
 
 The cur is devilish hungry. Would I had 
 Run away with your fellow merchants, I had 
 
 then' 
 
BELIEVE AS YOU LIST. 
 
 6rc> 
 
 Provided for my frame. Yet, as I am, 
 
 I have one request to make, and that, my 
 
 friends, 
 
 Concerns my body, which I pray you grant, 
 And then I shall die in peace. 
 
 Off. What is it ? 
 
 Berec. Marry, 
 
 That you would be suitors to the proconsul 
 
 for me 
 
 That no covetous Roman, after I am dead, 
 Maybeg to have my skin flayed off, andstuff it 
 With straw like an alligator, and then show it 
 In fairs and markets for a monster. Tho' 
 I know the sight will draw more fools to 
 
 gape on't 
 
 Than a camel or an elephant, aforehand 
 I tell you, if you do, myghostshall haunt you. 
 Off. You shall have burial, fear not. 
 Berec. And room enough 
 
 To tumble in, I pray you, tho' I take up 
 More grave than Alexander. I have ill luck 
 If I stink not as much as he, and yield the 
 
 worms 
 As large a supper. 
 
 i Merch. Are you not mad to talk thus? 
 Berec. I came crying into the world, and 
 
 am resolved 
 
 To go out merrily therefore despatch me. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE IV. Proconsul's House at 
 Callipolis. 
 
 Enter Metellus and Flaminius. 
 
 Met. There was never such constancy. 
 * Flam. You give it 
 
 Too fair a name. ! Tis foolish obstinacy, 
 For which he shall, without my pity, suffer. 
 What we do for the service of the republic, 
 And propagation of Rome's glorious empire, 
 Needs no defence, and we shall wrong our 
 
 judgments 
 To feel compunction for it. Have you given 
 
 order, 
 
 According to the sentence, that the impostor, 
 Riding upon an ass, his face turned to 
 The hinder part, may in derision be 
 Brought through Callipolis? 
 
 Met. Yes. And a paper 
 
 Upon his head, in which, with capital letters, 
 His faults are inscribed, and by three trum- 
 peters 
 Proclaimed before him ; and that clone to 
 
 have him 
 
 Committed to the gallies. Here comes 
 Sempronius, 
 
 Enter Sempronius. 
 To whom I gave the charge. 
 
 Semp. I have performed it 
 
 In every circumstance. 
 
 Flam. How do the people 
 
 Receive it ? 
 
 Semp. As an act of cruelty, 
 And not of justice. It drew tears from all 
 The sad spectators. His demeanour was 
 In the whole progress worth the observation, 
 But, in one thing, most remarkable. 
 
 Flam. What was that ? 
 
 Semp. When the city-clerk with a loud 
 
 voice read the cause 
 For which he was condemned, in taking on 
 
 him 
 
 The name of a king, with a settled coun- 
 tenance 
 
 The miserable man replied, / am so ; 
 But when he touched his being a cheating 
 
 Jew, 
 
 His patience moved, with a face full of anger 
 He boldly said, ' Tis false. I never saw 
 Such magnanimity. 
 
 Flam. Frontless impudence rather ! 
 
 Met. Or anything else you please. 
 
 Flam. Have you forced on him 
 
 The habit of a slave? 
 
 Semp. Yes, and in that, 
 
 Pardon my weakness, still there does appear 
 A kind of majesty in him. 
 
 Flam. You look on it 
 
 With the eyes of foolish pity that deceives 
 you. 
 
 Semp. This way he comes ; and, I believe, 
 
 when you see him, 
 You'll be of my opinion. 
 
 Off. (within). Make way there. 
 
 Enter Officers leading in Antiochus, his 
 head shaved, in the habit of a slave. 
 
 Ant. Fate ! 'tis thy will it should be thus, 
 
 and I 
 
 With patience obey it. Was there eve?, 
 In all precedent maps of misery, 
 Calamity so drawn out to the life 
 As she appears in me ? In all the changes 
 Of fortune, such a metamorphosis 
 Antiquity cannot show us ! Men may read 
 
 there 
 
 Of kings deposed, and some in triumph led 
 By the proud insulting Roman. Yet they 
 
 were 
 Acknowledged such, and died so. My sad 
 
 fate 
 
 Is of worse condition, and Rome 
 To me more barbarous than ere yet to any 
 Brought in subjection. Is it not sufficient ' 
 That the locks of this our royal head are 
 
 shaved off 
 
620 
 
 BELIEVE AS YOU LIST. 
 
 My glorious robes changed to this slavish 
 
 habit 
 
 Thishand, that grasped a sceptre, manacled 
 Or that I have been, as a spectacle, 
 Exposed to public frown, if to make perfect 
 This cruel reckoning I am not compelled 
 To live beyond this, and, with stripes, be 
 
 forced 
 
 To stretch my shrunk-up sinews at an oar, 
 In the company of thieves and murderers 
 My innocence, and their guilt, no way dis- 
 tinguished, 
 But equal in our sufferings ? 
 
 Met. You may yet 
 
 Redeem all, and be happy. 
 
 Flam. But, persisting 
 
 In this imposture, think but what it is 
 To live in hell on earth, and rest assur'd 
 It is your fatal portion. 
 
 Ant. Do what you please ! 
 
 I am in your power, but still Antiochus, 
 King of the lower Asia no impostor 
 That, four and twenty years since, lost a 
 
 battle, 
 And challenge now mine own, which 
 
 tyrannous Rome 
 With violence keeps from me. 
 
 Flam. Stop his mouth ! 
 
 Ant. This is the very truth ; and if I live 
 Thrice Nestor's years in torture, I will speak 
 No other language. 
 
 Met. I begin to melt. 
 
 Flam. To the galley with him ! 
 
 A nt. Every place shall be 
 
 A temple to my penitence in me ! 
 
 {Exeunt. 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 SCENE I. Syracuse. 
 Enter Marcellus, proconsul of Sicily (with a 
 letter), and the 2nd and yd Merchants. 
 Mar. Upon your recantation this Gal- 
 
 lerien 
 
 Was not Antiochus, you had your pardons 
 Signed by the senate ? 
 
 2 Merck. Yes, my lord. 
 Mar. Troth, tell me, 
 
 And freely I am no informer did you 
 Believe and know him such, or raised that 
 
 rumour 
 For private ends of your own? 
 
 3 Merck. May it please your excellence 
 To understand, the fear of death wrought 
 
 on us, 
 
 In a kind, to turn apostatas : besides, 
 Having proved our testimonies could not 
 
 help him, 
 We studied our safeties. 
 
 2 Merck. A desire too 
 Of the recovery of our own, kept from us 
 With strong hand, by his violent persecutor, 
 Titus Flaminius, when he was at Carthage, 
 Urged us to seek redress ; nor was it fit 
 We should oppose great Rome. 
 
 Mar. In worldly wisdom 
 You are excusable. But 
 
 3 Merck. We beseech your honour 
 Press us no further. 
 
 Mar. I do not purpose it. 
 
 Do you know what this contains ? 
 
 [Holding up the letter. 
 
 2 Merck. No, my good lord. 
 
 3 Merck. Perhaps we b[ring the warralnt 
 for our [deatjhs, 
 
 As 'tis said of Bellerophon, yet we durst not 
 Presume to open it. 
 
 Mar. 'Twas manners in you. 
 
 But I'll discharge you of that fear. There is 
 Nor hurt intended to you. 
 
 3 Merck. We thank your lordship. 
 
 Alar. How is the service of Flaminius 
 
 spoke of 
 In Rome ? 
 
 2 Merck. With admiration, and many 
 Divine great honours to him. 
 
 Mar. The people's voice 
 
 Is not oraculous ever. Are you sure 
 The galley in which your supposed king is 
 
 chained 
 Was bound for Syracusa? 
 
 3 Merck. She is now 
 In the port, my lord. 
 
 Mar. Titus Flaminius in her ? 
 
 3 Merck. Upon my certain knowledge. 
 Mar. Keep yourselves 
 
 Concealed till you are called for. When 
 
 least hoped for 
 You shall have justice. 
 
 2 Merck. Your honour's vassals ever. 
 
 {Exeunt Merchants. 
 
 Alar. Here, here, it is apparent that the 
 
 poet 
 Wrote truth, tho' no proof else could be 
 
 alleged 
 To make it good, that though the heavens 
 
 lay open 
 
 To human wishes, and the fates were bound 
 To sign what we desire, such clouds of 
 
 error 
 
 Involve our reason, we'd still beg a curse, 
 And not a blessing. How many, born unto 
 Ample possessions, and, like petty kings, 
 Disposing of their vassals, sated with 
 The peace and quiet of a country life, 
 Carried headlong with ambition, contend 
 To wear the golden fetters of employment, 
 Presuming there's no happiness but in 
 
BELIEVE AS YOU LIST. 
 
 621 
 
 The service of the state. But when they 
 
 have tried, 
 
 By a sad experience, the burthen of them, 
 When 'tis not in their power, at any rate, 
 They would redeem their calm security, 
 Mortgaged in wantonness. Alas ! what are 
 
 i we, 
 
 That govern provinces, but preys exposed 
 To every subtle spy ; and when we have, 
 Like sponges, sucked in wealth, we are 
 
 squeezed out 
 By the rough hand of the law ; and, failing in 
 
 ! One syllable of our commission, with 
 The loss of what we got with toil, we draw 
 What was our own in question. You come 
 timely, 
 
 Enter Cornelia, ivilh a Moor- woman. 
 
 To turn my tired thoughts from a sad dis- 
 course 
 That I had with myself. 
 
 Corn. I rather fear, sir, 
 
 I bring an argument along with me 
 That will increase, not lessen, such con- 
 ceptions 
 
 As I found with you. 
 Mar. Why, sweet! what's the matter? 
 Corn. W T hen I but name Antiochus, tho' I 
 
 spare', 
 
 To make a brief relation, how he died, 
 Or what he is, if he now live, a sigh, 
 And seconded with a tear, I know, must fall 
 As a due tribute to him. 
 
 Mar. Which I pay 
 
 Without compulsion. But why do you 
 Lance this old sore ? 
 
 Corn. The occasion commands it, 
 
 And now I would forget it, I am forced, 
 In thankfulness, to call to memory 
 \ The favours for which we must ever owe him. 
 1 You had the honour, in his court at Sardis, 
 i To be styled his friend, an honour Rome 
 
 and Carthage 
 
 Were rivals for, and did deserve the envy 
 Of his prime minions and favourites : 
 His natural subjects planted in his favour 
 Or rooted up, as your dislike or praise 
 
 Reported them the good king holding 
 
 what x 
 
 You spake to be oraculous, and not 
 To be disputed. His magnificent gifts 
 Confirmed his true affection, which you were 
 More weary to receive than he to give : 
 Yet still he studied new ones. 
 
 Alar. Pray you no more. 
 
 Corn. O 'tis a theme, sir, I could ever dwell 
 
 on. 
 
 But since it does offend you, I will speak 
 Of what concerns myself. He did not blush, 
 
 In the height of his felicity, to confess 
 Fabricius, my lord and father, for 
 His much-loved kinsman, and as such ob- 
 served him. 
 
 You may please to remember too, when, at 
 A public sacrifice, made to the gods 
 After a long infection, in which 
 The Asian kings and queens were his 
 
 assistants, 
 With what respect and grace he did receive 
 
 me. 
 
 And, at a solemn tilting, when he had 
 Put on the richest armour in the world, 
 
 Smiling he said his words are still, and 
 
 shall be. 
 
 Writ in the tablet of my heart Fair 
 
 cousin, 
 So he began (and then you thought me fair 
 
 too), 
 
 Since I am term d a soldier, 'twere a solecism, 
 In the language of the war, to have no mis- 
 tress, 
 
 And therefore, as a prosperous omen to 
 My -undertakings, I desire to fight 
 So you with willingness give suffrage to it 
 Under your gracious colours : and, then, 
 
 loosening 
 
 A scarf tied to mine arm, he did entreat me 
 To fasten it on his. O, with what joy 
 I did obey him, rapt, beyond myself, 
 In my imagination, to have 
 So great a king my servant ! 
 
 Mar. You had too 
 
 Some private conference. 
 
 Corn. And you gave way to it 
 
 Without a sign of jealousy, and dispensed 
 
 with 
 The Roman gravity. 
 
 Mar. Would I could^ again 
 
 Grant you like opportunity ; but why ' 
 Is this remembered now ? 
 
 Corn. It does prepare 
 
 A suit I have, which you must not deny me;. 
 To see the man, who, as it is reported', 
 In the exterior parts nature hath drawn 
 As his perfect copy. There must be some- 
 thing in him 
 
 Remarkable in his resemblance only 
 Of King Antiochus' features. 
 Mar. 'Twas my purpose,. 
 
 Enter Flaminius and Demetrius. 
 
 And so much, my Cornelia, Flaminius 
 Shall not deny us. 
 
 Flam. As my duty binds me, 
 
 My stay here being but short, I come, un- 
 
 sent for 
 To kiss your lordship's hands. 
 
 Mar. I answer you 
 
BELIEVE AS YOU LIST. 
 
 In your own language, sir. And yet your 
 
 'stay here 
 May be longer than you think. [Aside. 
 
 Flam. Most honoured madam, 
 
 I cannot stoop too low in tendering of 
 My humblest service. 
 
 Corn. You disgrace your courtship 
 By overacting it, my lord. I look not 
 For such observance. 
 
 Flam. 
 
 I am most unhappy, 
 
 If that your excellence make any scruple 
 Of doubt you may command me. 
 
 Corn. This assurance 
 
 Gives me encouragement to entreat a favour, 
 In which, my lord being a suitor with me, 
 I hope shall find a grant. 
 
 Flam. Tho' all that's mine 
 
 Be comprehended in it. 
 
 Mar. Your promise, sir, 
 
 Shall not so far engage you. In respect 
 Of some familiar passages between 
 King Antiochus, when he lived, and us, 
 And, tho' it needs not, for farther proof 
 That this is an impostor, we desire 
 Some conference with him. 
 
 Flam. For your satisfaction 
 
 I will dispense a little with the strictness 
 Of my commission. Sirrah ! Will the captain 
 To bring him to the proconsul. 
 
 Corn. His chains took off : 
 
 That I entreat too. Since I would not look 
 
 on 
 
 The image of a king I so much honoured 
 Bound like a slave. 
 
 Flam. See this great lady's will 
 
 Be punctually obeyed. [Exit Demetrius. 
 
 Mar. Your wisdom, sir, 
 
 Hath done the state a memorable service, 
 In strangling, in the birth, this dreadful 
 
 monster ; 
 And, tho' with some, your cruel usage of j With such varieties of defensive weapons, 
 
 him j Lent to me from my passive fortitude, 
 
 (For so they call your fit severity) 
 They find a harsh interpretation, wise men 
 In judgment must applaud it. 
 
 And, therefore, have a care the empty 
 
 sounds 
 
 Of friend or enemy sway you not beyond 
 The limits are assigned you. We, with ease, 
 Swim down the stream, but to oppose the 
 
 torrent 
 
 Is dangerous, and to go more, or less, 
 Than we are warranted, fatal. 
 
 Mar. With my thanks 
 
 For your so grave advice, I'll put in practice 
 On all occasions what you deliver, 
 And study 'em as aphorisms. In the mean 
 
 time, 
 
 Pray you attempt such entertainment as 
 Syracusa can present you. When the im- 
 postor 
 
 Arrives let us have notice. Pray you walk, 
 sir. \_Excunt. 
 
 SCENE II. Hall in Syracuse. 
 
 Enter Antiochus, Captain, and Soldiers. 
 
 Capt. Wait at the palace gate. There is 
 
 no fear now 
 
 Of his escape. I'll be myself his guardian 
 Till you hear further from me. 
 
 Ant. What new engine 
 
 Hath cruelty found out to raise against 
 This poor demolished rampire? It is 
 
 levelled 
 
 With the earth already. Will they triumph in 
 The ruins they have made ; or is there yet 
 One masterpiece of tyranny in store 
 Beyond that I have suffered ? If thou be 
 A vial of affliction, not poured out yet 
 Upon this sinful head, I am prepared, 
 And will look on the cloud before it break 
 
 Without astonishment, 
 captain, 
 
 Scorn me not, 
 
 Flam. 
 
 Such as are 
 
 Selected instruments for deep designs, 
 As things unworthy of them must not feel 
 
 , Or favours or affections. Tho 1 I know 
 The ocean of your apprehensions needs not 
 
 ' The rivulet of my poor cautions, yet, 
 Bold from my long experience, I presume 
 (As a symbol of my zeal, and service to 
 
 you) 
 
 To leave this counsel, 
 lord, 
 
 When you are, my 
 
 Graced, or distasted by the state, remember 
 Your faculties are the state's, and not your 
 
 As a vain braggart, I will make this good, 
 And I have strength to do it. I am armed 
 
 That there's no torment, of a shape so horrid 
 Can shake my constancy ! Where lies the 
 scene now ? 
 
 Tho' the hangings of the stage were con- 
 gealed gore, 
 
 The chorus flinty executioners, 
 
 And the spectators, if it could be, more 
 
 Inhuman than Flaminius, the cue given, 
 
 The principal actor's ready. 
 
 Capt. If I durst 
 
 I could show my compassion. 
 Ant. Take heed, captain, 
 
 Pity in Roman officers is a crime 
 
 To be punished more than murther in cold 
 blood. 
 
 Bear up. To tell me where I am, I take it, 
 
 Is no offence. 
 
BELIEVE AS YOU LIST. 
 
 623 
 
 Capt. You are in Syracusa 
 
 In the court of the Proconsul. 
 
 Ant. Who? Marcellus. 
 
 Capt. That noble Roman. By him you are 
 
 sent for, 
 But to what end I'm ignorant. 
 
 Ant. Ha ! He was 
 
 My creature, and, in my prosperity, proud 
 .To hold dependence of me, tho' I grand him 
 With the title of a friend ; and his fair lady 
 In courtship styled my mistress. Can they be 
 Infected with such barbarism as to make me 
 A spectacle for their sport? 
 
 Enter Marcellus, Flaminius, Cornelia, 
 Moor-woman, and Servants. 
 
 Capt. They are here, and soon 
 
 They will resolve you. 
 
 Mar. Be reserved, and let not 
 
 The near resemblance of his shape transport 
 
 you 
 Beyond yourself. Though I confess the 
 
 object 
 Does much amaze me. 
 
 Corn. You impose, my lord, 
 
 What I want power to bear. 
 
 Mar. Let my example, 
 
 Though your fierce passions make war 
 
 against it, 
 Strengthen your reason. 
 
 Ant. Have you taken yet 
 
 A full view of me ? In what part do I 
 Appear a monster ? 
 
 Corn. His own voice ! 
 
 Ant. Forbear. 
 
 Tho' I were an impostor, as this fellow 
 Labours you to believe, you break the laws 
 Of fair humanity in adding to 
 Affliction at the height ; and I must tell you 
 The reverence, you should pay unto the shape 
 Of King Antiochus, may challenge pity 
 As a due debt not scorn. Wise men 
 
 preserve 
 Dumb pictures of their friends, and look 
 
 upon them 
 
 With feeling and affection, yet not hold it 
 A foolish superstition. But there is 
 In thankfulness a greater tye on you 
 To show compassion. 
 
 Mar. Were it possible 
 Thou couldst be King Antiochus 
 
 Ant. What then? 
 
 Mar. I should both say and do 
 
 Ant. Nothing for me 
 
 (As far as my persuasion could prevent it) 
 Not suiting with the quality and condition 
 Of one, that owes his loyalty to Rome. 
 And, since it is, by the inscrutable will 
 
 Of fate, determined that the royalties 
 Of Asia must be conferred upon her 
 For what offence I know not 'tis in vain 
 For men to oppose it. You express, my 
 
 lord, 
 
 A kind of sorrow for me, in which, madam, 
 You seem to be a sharer. That you may 
 Have some proof to defend it, for your 
 
 mirth's sake 
 
 I'll play the juggler, or more subtle gipsy, 
 And to your admiration reveal 
 Strange mysteries to you, which, as you are 
 
 Romans, 
 
 You must receive for cunning tricks, but give ; 
 No farther credit to them. 
 
 Flam. At your peril 
 
 You may give him hearing. But to have 
 
 faith in him 
 Neighbours to treason. Such an impudent 
 
 slave 
 Was never read of. 
 
 Mar. I dare stand his charms : 
 
 With open ears speak on. 
 
 A nt. If so, have at you ! 
 
 Can you call to your memory when you were 
 At Sardis with Antiochus, before 
 His Grecian expedition, what he, 
 With his own hands, presented you as a 
 
 favour, 
 No third man by to witness it? 
 
 Mar. Give me leave '' 
 
 To recollect myself. Yes sure 'twas so 
 He gave me a fair sword. 
 
 Ant. 'Tis true, and you 
 
 Vowed never to part from it. Is it still 
 In your possession ? 
 
 Mar. The same sword I have, 
 
 And, while I live, will keep. 
 
 Ant. Will you not say, 
 
 It being four and twenty years since you 
 Were master of that gift, if now I know it, 
 Among a thousand others, that I have 
 The art of memory ? 
 
 Mar. I shall receive it 
 
 As no common sleight. Sirrah ! Fetch all 
 
 the swords 
 
 For mine own use in my armoury, and, do 
 you hear, [ Whispers. 
 
 Do as I give directions. 
 
 Setvant. With all care, sir, 
 
 [Exit Servant. 
 
 Ant. To entertain the time until your 
 
 servant 
 
 Returns. There is no syllable that passed 
 Between you and Antiochus, which I could 
 
 not 
 
 Articulately deliver. You must still 
 Be confident that I am an impostor, 
 Or else the trick is nothing. 
 
62 4 
 
 BELIEVE AS YOU LIST. 
 
 Enter Servant with many swords. 
 
 Corn. Can this be ? 
 
 Ant. O welcome, friend. Most choice and 
 
 curious swords, 
 But mine is not among them. 
 Marc. Bring the rest ! 
 
 Enter another Servant with more swords. 
 
 Ant. Aye ! this is it. This is the sword I 
 
 gave you 
 
 Before I went to Greece. Be not amazed 
 Nor let this trifle purchase a belief 
 I am Antiochus. Here is one will assure you 
 These are but juggling tricks of an affronter. 
 Flam. They are no more. A contract's 
 
 sealed between 
 
 The devil and this seducer, at the price 
 Of his damned soul. And his familiar 
 
 Daemon 
 Acquaints him with these passages. 
 
 Marc. I know not 
 
 But I am thunderstrook. 
 
 Corn. I can contain 
 
 Myself no longer. 
 
 Ant. Stay, dear madam. Though 
 
 Credulity be excusable in your sex 
 To take away all colour of guilt in you, 
 You shall have stronger proofs. The scarf 
 
 you gave me, 
 
 As a testimony you adopted me 
 Into your service, I wore on mine armour, 
 When I fought with Marcus Scaurus ; and 
 
 mine eye 
 
 Hath on the sudden found a precious jewel 
 You deigned to receive from me. [The 
 
 armlet] 
 Which you wear on your sleeve. 
 
 Corn. I acknowledge 
 
 It was the king Antiochus' gift. 
 
 Ant. I will 
 
 Make a discovery of a secret in it 
 Of which you yet are ignorant. Pray you 
 
 trust it, 
 
 For king Antiochus' sake, into my hands. 
 I thank your readiness. Nay dry your eyes. 
 You hinder else the faculty of seeing 
 The cunning of the lapidary. I can 
 Pull out the stone, and under it you shall 
 
 find 
 
 My name, and cipher I then used, engraven. 
 Corn. 'Tis most apparent. Tho' I lose 
 
 my life for it, 
 These knees shall pay their duty. 
 
 Ant. By no means ; 
 
 For your own sake be still incredulous, 
 Since your faith cannot save me. I should 
 
 know 
 
 This Moorish woman. Yes. 'Tis she. Thou 
 
 wert 
 One of my laundry, and thou wast called 
 
 Zanthia 
 While thou wert mine. I'm glad thou'st 
 
 lighted on 
 So gracious a mistress. 
 
 Moor-woman. Mine own king ! 
 
 O let me kiss your feet. What cursed villains 
 Have thus transformed you ? 
 
 Flam. 'Tis not safe, my lord. 
 
 To suffer this. 
 
 Marc. I am turn'd statue, or 
 
 All this is but a vision. 
 
 Ant. Your ear, madam, 
 
 [Speaks aside. 
 
 Since what I now shall say is such a secret 
 As is known only to yourself and me, 
 And must exclude a third tho' your own 
 
 lord, 
 
 From being of the counsel. Having gained 
 Access, and privacy with you, my hot blood 
 
 The ruin of your honour. I enforced then 
 My power to justify the ill, and pressed 
 You with mountainous promises of love and 
 
 service. 
 But when the building of your faith and 
 
 virtue 
 
 Began to totter, and a kind of grant 
 Was offered, my then sleeping temperance 
 Began to rouse itself ; and, breaking through 
 The obstacles of lust, when most assured 
 To enjoy a pleasant hour, I let my suit fall, 
 And, with a gentle reprehension, taxed 
 Your forward proneness but with many 
 
 vows 
 
 Ne'er to discover it, which heaven can witness 
 I have and will keep faithfully. 
 
 Corn. This is 
 
 The king Antiochus, as sure as I am 
 The daughter of my mother. 
 
 Marc. Be advised. 
 
 Flam. This is little less than treason ! 
 
 Corn. They are traitors 
 
 Traitors to innocence and oppressed justice 
 That dare affirm the contrary. 
 
 Marc. Pray you temper 
 
 The violence of your passion. 
 
 Corn. [Do] but express 
 
 Your thankfulness for his so many [favours] : 
 And labour that the senate may restore him 
 Unto his own. I'll die else. 
 
 Ant. Live long, madam, 
 
 To nobler and more profitable uses. 
 I am a falling structure : and desire not 
 
BELIEVE AS YOU LIST. 
 
 625 
 
 Your honours should be buried in my ruins. 
 Let it suffice. My lord, you must not see 
 The sun, if, in the policy of state, 
 It is forbidden. With compassion L 
 I Of what a miserable king hath suffered 
 j Preserve me in your mem'ry. 
 
 Flam. You stand as 
 
 j This sorc'rer had bewitched you. Drag him 
 
 to 
 
 I His oar, and let his weighty chains be 
 doubled. 
 
 Marc. For my sake let the poor man 
 
 have what favour 
 You can afford him. 
 
 Flam. Sir, you must excuse me. 
 
 You have abused the liberty I gave you, 
 
 [To Antiochus. 
 
 But, villain, you pay dear for't. I will trust 
 The execution of his punishment 
 To no man but myself. His cries and groans 
 Shall be my hourly music. So, my lord, 
 I take my leave abruptly. 
 
 Corn. May all plagues, 
 
 That ever followed tyranny, pursue thee ! 
 
 Marc. Pray you stay a little. 
 
 Flam. On no terms. 
 
 Marc. Yield so much 
 
 "To my entreaties. 
 
 Flam. Not a minute, for 
 
 Your government ! 
 
 Marc. I will not purchase, sir, 
 
 Your company at such a rate. And yet 
 Must take the boldness upon me to tell you 
 You must, and shall, stay. 
 
 Flam. How ! 
 
 Marc. Nay, what is more, 
 
 As a prisoner not a guest. Look not so 
 
 high, 
 I'll humble your proud thoughts. 
 
 Flam. You dare not do this 
 
 Without authority. 
 
 Marc. You shall find I have 
 
 Sufficient warrant, with detaining you, 
 To take this man into my custody. 
 Tho' 'tis not in my power, whate'er you are, 
 To do you further favour, I thus free you 
 Out of this devil's paws. 
 
 Ant. I take it as 
 
 A lessening of my torments. 
 
 Flam. You shall answer 
 
 This in another place. 
 
 Marc. But you shall, here, 
 
 Yield an account without appeal for what 
 You have already done. You may peruse. 
 [Does it] [Hands him the letter. 
 
 Shake you already? Do you find I have 
 [The warran]t ? Call in the Asian merchants. 
 
 Enter the two Merchants and a Guard. 
 
 2 Merck. [. . .] now to be hanged 
 
 3 Merck. [. . .] him that pities thee 
 Flam. [. . . .] accusers 
 Marc. ...... 
 
 die and will prove that you took bribes 
 Of the Carthaginian merchants, to detain 
 Their lawful prize ; and, for your sordid 
 
 ends, 
 
 Abused the trust, committed by the state, 
 To right their vassals. The wise senate, as 
 They will reward your good and faithful 
 
 service, 
 
 Cannot, in justice, without punishment 
 Pass o'er your ill. Guiltiness makes you 
 
 dumb. 
 But, 'till that I have leisure, and you find 
 
 Your tongue to prison with him ! 
 
 Flam. I prove too late, 
 
 As heaven is merciful, man's cruelty 
 Never escapes unpunished. 
 
 [Exeunt with Flaminius. 
 
 Ant. How a smile 
 
 Labours to break forth from me. But 
 
 what is 
 Rome's pleasure shall be done with me? 
 
 Marc. Pray you think, sir, 
 
 Tis a Roman not your constant friend 
 
 that tells you , 
 
 You are confined unto the Gyarae 
 With a strong guard upon you. 
 
 Re-enter Guard. 
 
 Ant. Then 'tis easy 
 
 To prophecy I have not long to live, 
 Though the manner how I shall die is un- 
 certain. 
 Nay, weep not. Since 'tis hot in you to 
 
 help me, 
 These showers of tears are fruitless. May 
 
 my story 
 
 Teach potentates humility, and instruct 
 Proud monarchs, tho' they govern human 
 
 things, 
 
 A greater power does raise, or pull down, 
 kings. 
 
 EPILOGUE. 
 
 The end of epilogues is to enquire 
 The censure of the play, or to desire 
 Pardon for what's amiss. In his intent 
 The maker vows that he is innocent. 
 
 SS 
 
BELIEVE AS YOU LIST. 
 
 And, for me and my fellows, I protest, 
 And you may believe me, we have done our best ; 
 And reason too we should, but whether you 
 Conceive we have with care dischargd what's due 
 Rests yet in supposition, you may 
 If you please resolve us. If our fate this day 
 Prove prosperous ; and you too vouchsafe to give 
 Some sign your pleasure is this work shall live, 
 We will find out new ways for your delight, 
 And, to our power, ne'er fail to do you right. 
 
POEMS 
 
 ON SEVERAL OCCASIONS. 
 
 To my Honorable Jfremds S r . ffrancis jfoliambe 
 Knight and Baronet. 
 
 S r . with my service I prassent this booke, 
 
 A trifle, I confesse, but pray you looke 
 Upon the sender, not his guifj, with your 
 
 Accustomde favor, and then 't will indure 
 Your serch the better. Somethinge there 
 may bee 
 
 You '1 finde in the perusall fit for mee 
 To give to one I honor, and may pleade, 
 
 In your defence, though you descende to 
 reade 
 
 A Pamplet of this nature. May it prove 
 In your free Judgement, though not worths. 
 you 1 lloVe, 
 
 Yet fit to finde a pardon, and I'll say 
 Upon your warrant that it is a play. 
 
 Ever at your commaundment, 
 PHILIP MASSINGER-, 
 
 To my judicious and learned Friend the Author, [James Shirley] upon his inge- 
 nious Poem, the Grateful Servant, a Comedy, published in 1630. 
 
 I THOUGH I well know, that my obscurer 
 
 name 
 : Listed with theirs who here advance thy 
 
 fame, 
 
 Cannot add to it, give me leave to be, 
 Among the rest a modest votary 
 At the altar of thy Muse. I dare not 
 
 raise 
 
 Giant hyperboles unto thy praise ; 
 Or hope it can find credit in this age, 
 i Though I should swear, in each triumphant 
 
 page 
 j Of this thy work there's no line but of 
 
 weight, 
 
 And poesy itself shewn at the height : 
 Such common places, friend, will not agree 
 With thy own vote, and my integrity. 
 
 I'll steer a mid way, have clear truth mjr 
 
 guide, 
 
 And urge a praise which cannot be denied. 
 Here are no forced expressions, no rack'd 
 
 phrase ; 
 
 No Babel compositions to amaze 
 The tortured reader ; no believed defence 
 To strengthen the bold Atheist's insolence ~ 
 No obscene syllable, that may compel 
 A blush from a chaste maid ; but all so welt 
 Express'd and order'd, as wise men must 
 
 say 
 
 It is a grateful poem, a good play : 
 And such as read ingeniously, shall find 
 Few have outstripp'd thee, many half: 
 
 behind. 
 
 PHILIP MASSINGER. 
 s s -2 
 
628 
 
 POEMS. 
 
 To bis Son, J[ames] S[mith] upon his Minerva. 
 
 THOU art my son ; in that my choice is 
 
 spoke : 
 Thine with thy father's Muse strikes equal 
 
 stroke. 
 
 It shew'd more art in Virgil to relate, 
 And make it worth the hearing, his gnat's 
 
 fate, 
 Than to conceive what those great minds 
 
 must be 
 
 That sought, and found out, fruitful Italy. 
 And such as read and do not apprehend, 
 And with applause, the purpose and the 
 
 end 
 
 Of this neat poem, in themselves confess 
 A dull stupidity and barrenness. 
 
 Methinks I do behold, in this rare birth, 
 A temple built up to facetious Mirth, 
 Pleased Phcebus smiling on it : doubt not, 
 
 then, 
 
 But that the suffrage of judicious men 
 Will honour this Thalia ; and, for those 
 That praise sir Bevis, or what's worse in 
 
 prose, 
 
 Let them dwell still in ignorance. To write 
 In a new strain, and from it raise delight, 
 As thou in this hast done, doth not by 
 
 chance, 
 But merit, crown thee with the laurel 
 
 branch. 
 
 PHILIP MASSINGER. 
 
 SERO- SED SERIO. 
 
 ~To the Right Honourable my most singular good Lord and Patron, Philip Earl of 
 Pembroke and Montgomery, Lord-Chamberlain ,of His Majesty's Household, 
 
 oble S 
 
 . upon the deplorable and untimely Death, of his late truly n 
 Lord Herbert, 6v. 
 
 Son, Charles 
 
 'TWAS fate, not want of duty, did me wrong; 
 Or, with the rest, my hymenael song 
 Had been presented, when the knot was tied 
 That made the bridegroom and the virgin 
 
 bride 
 
 A happy pair. I curs'd my absence then 
 That hinder'd it, and bit my star-cross 'd 
 
 pen, 
 
 Too busy in stage-blanks, and trifling rhyme, 
 When such a cause call'd, and so apt a time 
 To pay a general debt ; mine being more 
 Than they could owe, who since, or hereto- 
 
 fore, 
 
 Have labour' d with exalted lines to raise 
 Brave piles, or rather pyramids of praise 
 To Pembroke and his family : and dare I, 
 Being silent then, aim at an elegy? 
 Or hope my weak Muse can bring forth one 
 
 verse 
 
 Deserving to wait on the sable hearse 
 Of your late hopeful Charles ? his obsequies 
 Exact the mourning of all hearts and eyes 
 
 ; That knew him, or loved virtue. ,He that 
 would 
 
 1 Write what he was, to all posterity, should 
 
 Have ample credit in himself, to borrow, 
 Nay, make his own, the saddest accents 
 
 sorrow 
 
 Ever express 'd, and a more moving quill, 
 Than Spenser used when he gave Astrophil 
 A living epicedium. For poor me, 
 By truth I vow it is no flattery, 
 I from my soul wish, (if it might remove 
 Grief's burthen, which too feelingly you 
 
 prove,) 
 
 Though I have been ambitious of fame, 
 As poets are, and would preserve a name, 
 That, my toys burnt, I had lived unknown 
 
 to men, 
 And ne'er had writ, nor ne'er to write 
 
 again. 
 Vain wish, and to be scorn'd ! can my foul 
 
 dross, 
 
 With such pure gold be valued ? or the loss 
 Of thousand lives like mine, merit to be 
 The same age thought on, when his destiny 
 Is only mentioned? no, my lord, his fate, 
 Is to be prized at a higher rate ; 
 Nor are the groans of common men to be 
 Blended with those, which the nobility 
 
r 
 
 POEMS. 
 
 629. 
 
 Vent hourly for him. That great ladies 
 
 mourn 
 
 His sudden death, and lords vie at his urn 
 Drops of compassion ; that true sorrow, fed 
 With showers of tears, still bathes the 
 
 widow'd bed 
 Of his dear spouse ; that our great king and 
 
 queen 
 (To grace your grief ) disdain'd not to be 
 
 seen 
 
 Your royal comforters ; these well become 
 The loss of such a hope, and on his tomb 
 Deserve to live : but, since no more could be 
 Presented, to set off his tragedy, 
 And with a general sadness, why should you 
 (Pardon my boldness !) pay more than his 
 
 due, 
 
 Be the debt ne'er so great ? No stoic can, 
 As you were a loving father, and a man, 
 Forbid a moderate sorrow ; but to take 
 Too much of it, for his or your own sake 
 
 If we may trust divines, will rather be 
 Censured repining, than true piety. 
 I still presume too far, and more than fear 
 My duty may offend, pressing too near 
 Your private passions. I thus conclude, 
 If now you shew your passive fortitude, 
 In bearing this affliction, and prove 
 You take it as a trial of heaven's love 
 And favour to you, you ere long shall see 
 Your second care return'd from Italy, 
 To bless his native England, each rare part, 
 That in his brother lived, and joy'd your 
 
 heart, 
 Transferr'd to him ; and to the world make 
 
 known 
 
 He takes possession of what's now his own. i 
 Your honour's 
 most humble 
 and faithful servant, 
 PHILIP MASSINGER. 
 
1 
 
 DEDICATIONS TO THE PLAYS. 
 
 The Unnatural Combat. 
 
 To my much Honoured Friend, Anthony Sentleger, of Oakham in Kent, Esq. 
 
 SIR, 
 
 THAT the patronage of trifles, in this kind, hath long since rendered dedications, and 
 inscriptions obsolete, and out of fashion, I perfectly understand, and cannot but in- 
 genuously confess, that I walking in the same path, may be truly argued by you of 
 weakness, or wilful error : but the reasons and defences, for the tender of my service this 
 way to you, are so just, that I cannot (in my thankfulness for so many favours received) 
 but be ambitious to publish them. Your noble father, Sir Warham Sentleger (whose 
 remarkable virtues must be ever remembered) being, while he lived, a master, for his 
 pleasure, in poetry, feared not to hold converse with divers, whose necessitous fortunes 
 made it their profession, among which, by the clemency of his judgment, I was not in 
 the last place admitted. You (the heir of his honour and estate) inherited his good in- 
 clinations to men of my poor quality, of which I cannot give any ampler testimony, than 
 by my free and glad profession of it to the world. Besides (and it was not the least en- 
 couragement to me) many of eminence, and the best of such, who disdained not to take 
 notice of me, have not thought themselves disparaged, I dare not say honoured, to be 
 celebrated the patrons of my humble studies. In the first file of which, I am confident, 
 you shall have no cause to blush, to find your name written. I present you with this old 
 tragedy, without prologue or epilogue, it being composed in a time (and that too, per- 
 ad venture, as knowing as this) when such by-ornaments were not advanced above the 
 fabric of the whole work. Accept it, I beseech you, as it is, and continue your favour 
 $o the author, 
 
 Your Servant, 
 
 PHILIP MASSINGER. 
 
 The Duke of Milan. 
 
 "To the Right Honourable, and much esteemed for her high birth, but more admired 
 for her virtue^ the Lady Catherine Stanhope, wife to Philip Lord Stanhope, 
 Baron of Shelf ord. 
 
 MADAM, 
 
 IF I were not most assured that works of this nature have found both patronage and 
 protection amongst the greatest princesses of Italy, and are at this day cherished by 
 persons most eminent in our kingdom, I should not presume to offer these my weak and 
 imperfect labours at the altar of your favour. Let the example of others, more knowing, 
 and more experienced in this kindness (if my boldness offend) plead my pardon, and the 
 rather, since there is no other means left me (my misfortunes having cast me on this 
 course) to publish to the world (if it hold the least good opinion of me) that I am ever 
 your ladyship's creature. Vouchsafe, therefore, with the never-failing clemency of your 
 noble disposition, not to contemn the tender of his duty, who, while he is, will ever be 
 An humble Servant to your 
 
 Ladyship, and yours, 
 
 PHILIP MASSINGER. 
 
DEDICATIONS TO THE PLAYS. 631 
 
 The Bondman. 
 
 To the Right Honourable, my singular good Lord, Philip Earl of Montgomery, 
 Knight of the most Noble Order of the Garter, <&Y. 
 
 RIGHT HONOURABLE, 
 
 HOWEVER I could never arrive at the happiness to be made known to your lordship, yet 
 a desire, born with me, to make a tender of all duties and service to the noble family of 
 the Herberts, descended to me as an inheritance from my dead father, Arthur Massinger. 
 Many years he happily spent in the service of your honourable house, and died a servant 
 to it ; leaving his to be ever most glad and ready, to be at the command of all such as 
 derive themselves from his most honoured master, your lordship's most noble father. The 
 consideration of this encouraged me (having no other means to present my humblest 
 service to your honour) to shroud this trifle under the wings of your noble protection ; and 
 I hope, out of the clemency of your heroic disposition, it will find, though perhaps not a 
 welcome entertainment, yet, at the worst, a gracious pardon. When it was first acted, 
 your lordship's liberal suffrage taught others to allow it for current, having received the 
 undoubted stamp of your lordship's allowance : and if in the perusal of any vacant hour, 
 when your honour's more serious occasions shall give you leave to read it, it answer, in 
 your lordship's judgment, the report and opinion it had upon the stage, I shall esteem my 
 labours not ill employed, and, while I live, continue 
 
 The humblest of those that 
 
 truly honour your lordship, 
 
 PHILIP MASSINGER. 
 
 The Renegade. 
 
 To the Right Honourable George Harding, Baron Berkeley, of Berkeley Castle, and 
 Knight of the Honourable Order of the Bath. 
 
 My GOOD LORD, 
 
 To be honoured for old nobility, or hereditary titles, is not alone proper to yourself, 
 but to some few of your rank, who may challenge the like privilege with you : but in our 
 age to vouchsafe (as you have often done) a ready hand to raise the dejected spirits of the 
 contemned sons of the Muses ; such as would not suffer the glorious fire of poesy to be 
 wholly extinguished, is so remarkable and peculiar to your lordship, that with a full vote 
 and suffrage, it is acknowledged that the patronage and protection of the dramatic poem, 
 is yours, and almost without a rival. I despair not therefore, but that my ambition to 
 present my service in this kind, may in your clemency meet with a gentle interpretation. 
 Confirm it, my good lord, in your gracious acceptance of this trifle ; in which, if I were 
 not confident there are some pieces worthy the perusal, it should have been taught an 
 humbler flight ; and the writer, your countryman, never yet made happy in your notice 
 and favour, had not made this an advocate to plead for his admission among such as are 
 wholly and sincerely devoted to your service. I may live to tender my humble thankful- 
 ness in some higher strain ; and till then, comfort myself with hope, that you descend 
 from your height to receive 
 
 Your honour's commanded servant, 
 
 PHILIP MASSINGER. 
 
632 DEDICATIONS TO THE PLAYS. 
 
 The Roman Actor. 
 
 To my much honoured and most true Friends, Sir Philip Knyvet, A/. and Bart~ 
 and to Sir Thomas Jeay. Knt., and Thomas Bellingham, of Newtimber, 
 in Sussex, Esq. 
 
 How much I acknowledge myself bound for your so many and extraordinary favours 
 conferred upon me, as far as it is in my power, posterity shall take notice : I were most 
 unworthy of such noble friends, if I should not, with all thankfulness, profess and own 
 them. In the composition of this Tragedy you were my only supporters, and it being 
 now by your principal encouragement to be turned into the world, it cannot walk safer 
 than under your protection. It hath been happy in the suffrage of some learned and 
 judicious gentlemen when it was presented, nor shall they find cause, I hope, in the 
 perusal, to repent them of their good opinion of it. If the gravity and height of the 
 subject distaste such as are only affected with jigs and ribaldry, (as I presume it will,) their 
 condemnation of me and my poem, can no way offend me : my reason teaching me, such 
 malicious and ignorant detractors deserve rather contempt than satisfaction. I ever held 
 it the most perfect birth of my Minerva ; and therefore in justice offer it to those that 
 have best deserved of me ; who, I hope, in their courteous acceptance will render it 
 worth their receiving, and ever, in their gentle construction of my imperfections, believe 
 they may at their pleasure dispose of him, that is wholly and sincerely 
 
 Devoted to their sen-ice, 
 
 PHILIP MASSINGER. 
 
 The Great Duke of Florence. 
 
 To the truly honoured, and my noble Favourer, Sir Robert Wiseman, Knt., of 
 Thorretfs-Hall, in Essex. 
 
 SIR, 
 
 As I dare not be ungrateful for the many benefits you have heretofore conferred upon 
 me, so I have just reason to fear that my attempting this way to make satisfaction (in 
 some measure) for so due a debt, will further engage me. However, examples encourage 
 me. The most able in my poor quality have made use of Dedications in this nature, to 
 make the world take notice (as far as in them lay) who and what they were that gave 
 supportment and protection to their studies, being more willing to publish the doer than 
 receive a benefit in a corner. For myself, I will freely, and with a zealous thankfulness, 
 acknowledge, that for many years I had but faintly subsisted, if I had not often tasted of 
 your bounty. But it is above my strength and faculties to celebrate to the desert your 
 noble inclination, and that made actual, to raise up, or, to speak more properly, to re- 
 build the ruins of demolished poesie. But that is a work reserved, and will be, no doubt, 
 undertaken, and finished, by one that can to the life express it. Accept, I beseech you, 
 the tender of my service, and in the list of those you have obliged to you, contemn not 
 the name of 
 
 Your true and faithful honourer, 
 
 PHILIP MASSINGER. 
 
DEDICATIONS TO THE PLAYS. 633 
 
 The Maid of Honour. 
 
 To my most honoured Friends, Sir Francis Foljambe, Knt. and Bart, and 
 Sir Thomas Bland, Knt. 
 
 THAT you have been, and continued so for many years, since you vouchsafed to own me, 
 patrons to me and my despised studies, I cannot but with all humble thankfulness 
 acknowledge : and living, as you have done, inseparable in your friendship, (notwith- 
 standing all differences, and suits in law arising between you,) I held it as impertinent as 
 absurd, in the presentment of my service in this kind, to divide you. A free confession 
 of a debt in a meaner man, is the amplest satisfaction to his superiors ; and I heartily 
 wish, that the world may take notice, and from myself, that I had not to this time sub- 
 sisted, but that I was supported by your frequent courtesies and favours. When your 
 more serious occasions will give you leave, you may please to peruse this trifle, and 
 peradventure find something in it that may appear worthy of your protection. Receive 
 it, I beseech you, as a testimony of his duty who, while he lives, resolves to be 
 Truly and sincerely devoted to your service, 
 
 PHILIP MASSINGER. 
 
 The Picture. 
 
 ; T tny honoured and selected Friends, of the Noble Society of the Inner Temple. 
 
 i IT may be objected, my not inscribing their names, or titles, to whom I dedicate this 
 1 poem, proceedeth either from my diffidence of their affection to me, or their unwillingness 
 
 to be published the patrons of a trifle. To such as shall make so strict an inquisition of 
 . me, I truly answer, The play, in the presentment, found such a general approbation, 
 
 that it gave me assurance of their favour to whose protection it is now sacred ; and they 
 i have professed they so sincerely allow of it, and the maker, that they would have freely 
 granted that in the publication, which, for some reasons, I denied myself. One, and 
 1 that is a main one ; I had rather enjoy (as I have done) the real proofs of their friend- 
 i ship, than, mountebank-like, boast their numbers in a catalogue. Accept it, noble 
 1 Gentlemen, as a confirmation of his service, who hath nothing else to assure you, and 
 
 witness to the world, how much he stands engaged for your so frequent bounties ; and in> 
 
 your charitable opinion of me believe, that you now may, and shall ever command, 
 
 Your Servant, 
 
 PHILIP MASSINGER. 
 
 The Emperor of the East. 
 
 To the Right Honourable, and my especial good Lord, John Lord Mohun, Baron 
 of Okehampton, <&V. 
 
 MY GOOD LORD, 
 
 LET my presumption in styling you so, (having never deserved it in my service,) from the 
 clemency of your noble disposition, find pardon. The reverence due to the name of 
 Mohun, long since honoured in three earls of Somerset, and eight barons of Munster, 
 may challenge from all pens a deserved celebration. And the rather in respect those titles 
 were not purchased, but conferred, and continued in your ancestors, for many virtuous, 
 noble, and still living actions ; nor ever forfeited or tainted, but when the iniquity of those 
 times laboured the depression of approved goodness, and in wicked policy held it fit that 
 loyalty and faith, in taking part with the true prince, should be degraded and mulcted. 
 But this admitting no further dilation in this place, may your lordship please, and with all 
 possible brevity, to understand the reasons why I am, in humble thankfulness, ambitious. 
 
634 DEDICATIONS TO THE PLAYS. 
 
 to shelter this poem under the wings of your honourable protection. My worthy friend, 
 Mr. Aston Cockayne, your nephew, to my extraordinary content, delivered to me that your 
 lordship, at your vacant hours, sometimes vouchsafed to peruse such trifles of mine as 
 have passed the press, and not alone warranted them in your gentle suffrage, but disdained 
 not to bestow a remembrance of your love, and intended favour to me. I profess to the 
 world, I was exalted with the bounty, and with good assurance, it being so rare in this 
 age to meet with one noble name, that, in fear to be censured of levity and weakness, 
 dares express itself a friend or patron to contemned poetry. Having, therefore, no means 
 else left me to witness the obligation in which I stand most willingly bound to your lordship, 
 I offer this Tragi-comedy to your gracious acceptance, no way despairing, but that with 
 a clear aspect you will deign to receive it, (it being an induction to my future endeavours,) 
 and that in the list of those, that to your merit truly admire you, you may descend to 
 number Your lordship's faithful honourer, 
 
 PHILIP MASSINGER, 
 
 A New Way to Pay Old Debts. 
 
 ! To the Right Honourable, Robert Earl of Carnarvon, Master Falconer of England. 
 
 MY GOOD LORD, 
 
 i PARDON, I beseech you, my boldness, in presuming to shelter this Comedy under the 
 I wings of your lordship's favour and protection. I am not ignorant (having never yet de- 
 ! served you in my service) that it cannot but meet with a severe construction, if, in the 
 j clemency of your noble disposition, you fashion not a better defence for me, than I can 
 j fancy for myself. All I can allege is, that divers Italian princes, and lords of eminent rank 
 ; in England, have not disdained to receive and read poems of this nature ; nor am I wholly 
 lost in my hopes, but that your honour (who have ever expressed yourself a favourer, 
 , and friend to the Muses) may vouchsafe, in your gracious acceptance of this trifle, to 
 give me encouragement to present you with some laboured work, and of a higher strain, 
 hereafter. I was born a devoted servant to the thrice noble family of your incomparable 
 lady, and am most ambitious, but with a becoming distance, to be known to your lord- 
 ship, which, if you please to admit, I shall embrace it as a bounty, that while I live shall 
 , oblige me to acknowledge you for my noble patron, and profess myself to be, 
 
 Your honour's true servant, 
 
 PHILIP MASSINGER. 
 
 The City Madam. 
 
 To the truly Noble and Virtuous Lady Ann Countess of Oxford. 
 
 HONOURED LADY, 
 
 IN that age when wit and learning were not conquered by injury and violence, this poem , 
 was the object of love and commendations, it being composed by an infallible pen, and i 
 censured by an unerring .auditory. In this epistle I shall not need to make an apology j 
 for plays in general, by exhibiting their antiquity and utility : in a word, they are mirrors ! 
 or glasses which none but deformed faces, and fouler consciences fear to look into. The j 
 encouragement I had to prefer this dedication to your powerful protection proceeds from 
 the universal fame of the deceased author, who, (although he composed many,) wrote 
 none amiss, and this may justly be ranked among his best. I have redeemed it from the 
 teeth of Time, by committing of it to the press, but more in imploring your patronage. 
 I will not slander it with my praises, it is commendation enough to call it MASSINGER'S ; 
 if it may gain your allowance and pardon, I am highly gratified, and desire only to wear 
 the happy tide of, Madam, 
 
 Your most humble servant, 
 
 ANDREW PENNYCUICKE. 
 
GLOSSARIAL INDEX. 
 
 a means left column ; b right column. 
 
 ABRAM-MEN. 396 b. 
 
 An Abram-man was an impudent impostor who, 
 under the garb and appearance of a lunatic, rambled 
 about the country, and compelled, as Decker says, the 
 servants of small families " to give him, through fear, 
 whatever he demanded." 
 
 ABSURD. 331 a. 
 
 In logical phraseology, is a term used when false 
 conclusions are drawn from the opponent's premises. 
 
 ABUSE. 270 a. 
 
 "You abuse me :" i.e., you practise on my credulity 
 with a forged tale. The word often occurs in this 
 sense. 
 
 ALBA REGALIS. 286 a, 305 a, 
 
 The town where the kings of Hungary were anciently 
 crowned. Whitehall is often called so by writers of the 
 seventeenth century. 
 
 ALTAR. 176 b. 
 
 " That binds no further than to the altar," is not an 
 allusion to the married state, but to the saying of 
 Pericles, that he would support the interests of his friend 
 as far as the altar; i.e., as far as his respect for the 
 gods would permit. 
 
 AMSTERDAM. 133 b. 
 
 The toleration allowed to religious sects of all deno- 
 minations had, in Massinger's time, filled Amsterdam 
 with fanatics from every country in Europe. To this 
 aggregation of zealots there are perpetual allusions in 
 our old writers. 
 
 ANAXARETE. 209 a. 
 
 The story of Iphis and Anaxarete is beautifully told 
 by Ovid (" Met." xiv. 698 elseq.) Massinger has fol- 
 lowed his leader paripassv. 
 
 ANGEL. 10 b. 
 
 This word is frequently used for Bird, by our old 
 writers. " Roman angel," therefore, means the eagle, 
 the military ensign. 
 
 APES. 1150. 
 
 Our ancestors certainly excelled us in the education 
 which they bestowed on their animals. Banks s horse 
 far surpassed all that have been brought up in the 
 academy of Mr. Astley, and the apes of these days are 
 mere clowns to their oroeenitors. The apes of Mas- 
 singer's time were gif 
 politics and philosophy 
 
 we have an allusion to one that would frown when the 
 Pope's name was mentioned ; and in "Ram Alley" to 
 another (or the same), that would hold up his hand at 
 the word Geneva. 
 
 APOSTATA. 27 b, 320, 38 , 40 #, 605 a, 
 606 a, 620 a. 
 
 Our old writers usually said apostata, statua, &-c., 
 where we now say apostate, statue. The metre is often 
 absolutely destroyed by the editors in attempting to 
 alter the spelling. 
 
 APPLE. 344 b. 
 
 The ancients attached a certain degree of mystical 
 consequence to the presentation of an apple ; which 
 they universally agreed to consider as a tacit confession 
 of passion, accepted and returned. 
 
 "progenitors". The apes of Mas- 
 ifted with a pretty smattering of 
 hy. In the " Parson's Wedding" 
 
 AT ALL! 445 <z. 
 
 This expression occurs in Skelton's bold and animated 
 description of Ryotte, the prototype of a gamester : . 
 " With that came Ryotte, rushing all at ones 
 A rustic galande, to ragged and to rente, 
 And on the borde he whirled a pair ot bones, 
 Quater, trey, dews ! he chattered as he went, 
 Now have at all, by St. Thomas of Kent." 
 
 Bouge of Court. 
 
 ATHEISM. 270 b. 
 
 Our old writers seem to have used such words as 
 profaneness, blasphemy, atheism, &c., with a laxity 
 which modern practice does not acknowledge. They 
 applied them to any extraordinary violation of moral 
 or natural decorum. 
 
 ATONEMENT. 88 , 543 #. 
 
 Reconciliation. To atone is often used in this sense 
 by Shakspeare and others. 
 AVENTINE. 195 a. 
 
 My security, my defence. The Aventine was a post 
 of great strength. It is used in the same metaphorical 
 sense by Fletcher, and others of our old dramatists. 
 
 BAKEHOUSE. 186 a. 
 
 The conduit and the bakehouse in the age of Mas- 
 singer were the general rendezvous of gossips of both 
 sexes : they are so still in most country towns. 
 
 BANDOG. 12 b. 
 
 A dog so fierce as to require to be chained up, as 
 the name implies. 
 
 BANQUET. 46 b, 101 b t 430 b. 
 
 A banquet was what we now caH a dessert, and was 
 composed of fruit, sweetmeats, &c. It was usually 
 placed in a separate room, to which the guests removed 
 as soon as they had dined. The common place of 
 banqueting was the garden-house, or arbour, with 
 which almost every dwelling was once furnished. 
 
 BARATHRUM. 406 a. 
 
 " Barathrum of the shambles" is taken literally from 
 Horace. 
 
 " Pernicies et tempestas, barathrumque macelli." 
 The word is used by Shirley and others in the classical 
 sense of an abyss or devouring gulf. 
 
 [I have no doubt that when Meg Merrilies called 
 Dominie Sampson " 
 
 You black barroivtratn of the 
 
 kirk," preparatory to te orer " ape, snner, an 
 swallow," Sir Walter Scott was thinking of this word, 
 and not of " the side of a wheelbarrow, as interpreted 
 in the Glossary to the Waverley novels.] 
 
 BARLEY-BREAK. 30 , 185*7. 
 
 A game played by six people (three of each sex), 
 who were coupled by lot. A piece ot ground was then 
 chosen, and divided into three compartments, of 
 which the middle one was called Hell. It was the 
 object of the couple condemned to this division to 
 catch the others who advanced from the two ex- 
 tremities. 
 
 [" At barley-break her sweet swift foot to try," 
 is a line in the "Arcadia."] 
 
 BASES. 292 b. 
 
 Seem to have been some kind of quilted and orna- 
 mented covering for the thighs. Highlanders wear 9 
 kind of bases at this day. [Oy., the French word, bas. 
 stockings.] 
 
6 3 6 
 
 GLOSSARIAL INDEX. 
 
 BASKET. 382 a, 393 b, 425 a. 
 
 The allusions are to the basket in which the broken 
 bread and meat was distributed to the poor at the 
 porter's lodge of great houses. The " sheriff's basket" 
 was that in which the victuals were sent to the prisons 
 from the sheriff's table. 
 
 BEADSMEN. 429 b, 438 b, 
 
 Is pure Saxon, and means prayers men, i.e., such as 
 are engaged, in consequence of past or present 
 favours, to pray for their benefactors. The name was 
 formerly given with great propriety to the inhabitants 
 of alnishouses, and, in general, to the objects of our 
 public charities. 
 
 BEARING-DISHES. 420 a. 
 
 Means solid, substantial dishes, like the " portly 
 viands" spoken of at 46 a. 
 
 BECCO. 318 b. 
 
 Is rendered by the commentators on our old plays a 
 cuckold. The Italians generally use it for one acces- 
 sary to his own disgrace, and in this sense Massinger 
 employs it. 
 
 BEGGING ESTATES. 324 a. 
 
 A severe sarcasm on the avidity of the courtiers. 
 The estates of many condemned persons were begged 
 with scandalous precipitancy by the favourites of the 
 day; and, what is worse, were justly suspected in 
 more than one instance to have constituted the prin- 
 cipal part of the crime for which the possessors 
 suffered. 
 
 BEGLERBEG. 150 a. 
 
 Chief governor of a cit}-. 
 
 1 BEND HER BODY. 77 b, 545 a. 
 
 To try if there be any life in it. In " The Maid's 
 Tragedy," 
 
 " I've heard if there be any life, but bvtu 
 The body thus, and it will show itself. 
 
 BIND. 462 a. 
 
 " And by turns bind with her." This exquisite 
 1 description of rural amusements is from the hand of a 
 great master. I lament that it is so technical; but 
 in Massinger's time this language was perfectly 
 familiar to the audience who heard it, in a greater or 
 less degree, in every play that came before them. A 
 hawk is said to bind when she seizes her prey. 
 
 BISOGNION. 272 a. 
 
 A necessitous person, a beggar. In our old writers 
 it frequently occurs as a term of contempt. [The 
 Bezonian of Ancient Pistol] 
 
 BLACKS. 360^, 568 . 
 
 Constantly used by our old writers for mourning 
 weeds. 
 
 BLASPHE'MOUS. 237 a. 
 
 The word was constantly thus accented by Sidney, 
 Spenser, and others, and with strict regard to its Greek 
 derivation. 
 
 BLUE GOWN. 446 b, 455 a. 
 
 The livery of Bridewell. 
 
 BOMAN. 446 b. 
 
 In the language of Alsatia a gallant fellow ; but 
 most probably, in this instance, a misprint for Roman, 
 which reading is here adopted. 
 
 BOX-KEEPER. 422 Dram. Pers. 
 
 The groom-porter of a gambling-house. This im- 
 portant character never plays, but is seated on a box 
 or elevated chair, where he declares the state of the 
 game, the odds, and the success of the parties. 
 
 BRACHES. 58 a, 388 a, 437 . 
 
 The Gentleman's Recreation says " Braches is a 
 mannerly name for hound bitches," and, adds 
 Gifford, "for all otliers." 
 
 BREDA. 391 a. 
 
 This was one of the most celebrated sieges of the 
 time. Spinola sat down before the town on the 
 26th August, 1624, and it did not surrender till the 
 ist July, 1625. Tobacco was sold ioi 100 florins the Ib. 
 
 BROADSIDE (to shew). 165 . 
 
 Gifford adduces this as an illustration of the 
 familiarity of our ancestors with nautical language. It 
 is here offered with great propriety to prove that the 
 fugitives thought themselves out of danger of pursuit 
 t)tey bore -up in Hie -wind, which checked their course. 
 
 BUCK. 26 a. 
 
 To buck is to wash clothes by laying them on a 
 smooth plank or stone, and beating them with a pole 
 flattened at the sides. 
 
 BUG-WORDS. 407 b. 
 
 Frightful, terrific words, in the same way as bug: 
 bear. 
 
 BURSE. 436 b. 
 
 The New Exchange, which was then full of shops, 
 where all kinds of finery for the ladies, trinkets, orna- 
 ments, &C,, were sold. 
 
 BUTLER. 570 #. 
 
 " Oracle Butler !" He alludes to Dr. W. Butler, a 
 very celebrated physician of Queen Elizabeth's time. 
 
 CALVERED SALMON. 266 b, 482 b. 
 
 Appears to have differed very little from pickled 
 salmon, as the directions are to " boil it in vinegar, with 
 oil and spices." 
 
 CANCELIER. 462 a. 
 
 " Is when a high-flown hawk in her stooping, turneth 
 two or three times upon the wing, to recover herself 
 before she seizeth upon her prey." 
 
 CANDOUR. 183 a, 471 . 
 
 Massinger uses candour in both these places as 
 synonymous with " honour," or fairness of reputation. 
 
 CAPITULATE. 599 a. 
 
 To draw up articles. So Shakspeare : 
 "The Archbishop's Grace of York, Douglas, and 
 
 Mortimer. 
 Capitulate against us, and are up." 
 
 CARANZ A. 44 a, 473 a. 
 
 This man wrote a treatise on duelling, which seems 
 to have been the Vade Mecum of the punctilious gal- 
 lants about the Court of James I. He is frequently 
 mentioned by Beaumont and Fletcher, and Jonson. 
 
 CASTER. 446 a. 
 
 " I long to -ware the caster." When at a gaming- 
 table a setter supposes himself to possess more money 
 than the caster, it is usual for him, on putting his stake 
 into the ring, to cry lYare Caster ! The caster then 
 declares at all under such a sum, ten, twenty, or fifty 
 pounds, for instance ; or else to place against the stakes 
 of certain setters the corresponding sums, and cry 
 JVare, covered only I 
 
 CASTING. 315 a. 
 
 " When the hawk will come to the lure, then give her 
 every night stones, till you find her stomach good : 
 after that, proffer her casting, to make her cleanse and 
 purge her gorge." 
 
 CAT-STICK. 260^. 
 
 This is what is now called a buck-stick, used by chil- 
 dren in the game ot tip-cat or kit-cat. 
 
 CAUTELOUS. 
 
 This word occurs continually in the sense of wary, 
 suspicious, over-circumsner.t 
 
GLOSSARIAL INDEX. 
 
 637J 
 
 DENSURE. 129 a, 249 a, 494 a, 526 epi., 
 587 a, 592 , 625 epi., 634. 
 
 Our ancestors used this word precisely as we do 
 judgment : sometimes for a quality of the mind, some 
 
 less.} 
 
 :ERUSES. 493 a. 
 
 Ceruse is white paint for the complexion. No one 
 has yet been successful in procuring oil irom talc, al- 
 though many have pretended to do so, and have sold 
 the preparations to those who desire to be " beautiful 
 for ever." 
 
 CHAMBERS. 165 a. 
 
 Small pieces of ordnance, such as are still fired in the 
 Park on rejoicing days. 
 
 HAPINES. 136 a. 
 
 A kind of clogs with thick cork soles, which the ladies 
 wear on their shoes when they go abroad. They are 
 mentioned by Shakspeare, and most of our old drama- 
 tists. 
 
 "HARMS. 233 a. 
 
 " Can charms be writ on such pure rubies." This 
 alludes to a very old opinion that some sorts of gems 
 (from an inherent sanctity) could not be profaned, or 
 applied to the purposes of magic. 
 
 CHEESE-TRENCHERS. 568 a. 
 
 Before the general introduction of books, our ances- 
 tors were careful to dole out instruction in many ways. 
 Hangings, pictures, trenchers, knives, wearing apparel, 
 everything in a word that was capable of containing 
 a short sentence, was turned to account. 
 
 CHIAUS. 150 a. 
 
 An officer in the Turkish court, who performs the 
 duty of an usher. 
 
 CHINING. 608 . 
 
 To chine is to cut through the backbone. Mr. 
 Crofton Croker reads " chining of the fork" but it is 
 evident from what follows that the beast, not the rider, 
 is referred to. 
 
 CHREOKOPIA. 561 a. 
 
 Signifies the cutting off that part of a debt which 
 arises from the interest of the sum lent. 
 
 CHUFFS. 78 b. 
 
 Coarse nnmannered clowns; at once sordid and 
 wealthy. 
 
 CIRCULAR. 333*. 
 
 Full and perfect a latinism. 
 
 CIVIL. 161 a, 4274. 
 
 Civil, in Massinger, as well as in his contemporaries, 
 alludes to the political regulations, customs, and habits 
 pi the City, as distinguished from the Court ; sometimes, 
 indeed, it takes a wider range, and comprises a degree 
 ot civilization, or moral improvement, as opposed to a 
 state of barbarism or pure nature. 
 
 CLEMM'D. 2050. 
 
 To have the entrails shrunk up with hunger, so as to 
 cling together metaphorically, to be starved. 
 
 COATS. 574 a. 
 
 What we now call court-cards. 
 
 COLON. 36^, 293 a. 
 
 The largest of the human intestines. "To satisfy 
 colon " means to satisfy hunger. It frequently occurs 
 in the same sense in our old poets. 
 
 COMMODITIES. 112 a. 
 
 Wares, of which needy borrowers made what they 
 could. [" the old masters and curious old sherry" of 
 the usurers of the present day.] 
 
 COME OFF. 580. 
 
 "Will you come off, sir ?">.. Will you pay, sir? 
 The word is used by all our old dramatic writers. 
 
 CONCEITED. nob. 
 
 Facetious, witty. Abounding with conceits, not con- 
 ceit. 
 
 CONDUIT. i86a. 
 See BAKEHOUSE. 
 
 CONSTANTLY. 248*5. 
 
 " So constantly ;" with such unshaken patience, such 
 immovable resolution. 
 
 CORSIVE. 227 a, 349 b. 
 
 Our old authors used corsive or corrosive indiffe- 
 rently, as suited the verse. 
 
 COUNSEL. 79 a, 214 a. 
 
 Is used for secrecy. 
 
 COUNTERFEIT GOLD THREAD. 1120. 
 
 See MOMPESSON. 
 
 COURTSHIP. 83 a, 85 b t 228 a, 245 b, 494 a'. 
 
 The court paid to rank, court-policy, court-breeding, 
 the grace and elegance learned in courts. 
 
 CRACK. 36 a, 528 b. 
 
 An arch, sprightly boy. The word is of constant oc- 
 currence in our old plays. 
 
 CRINCOMES. 483 a. 
 
 Calipso's meaning is that, having already lost her 
 nose, she is secured from one of the evils, still known 
 among the vulgar by the name which she assigns to it. 
 
 CRONE. 36 a. 
 
 This word, which, as Johnson says, means an old 
 toothless ewe, is constantly used for an old woman. 
 
 CROWD. 591 b. 
 
 Another word for fiddle. 
 
 CROWNS o' THE SUN. 36 b, 176 b. 
 
 The best kind of crown then struck. They had a 
 star (sun) on one side. 
 
 CRY AIM ! 105 #, 135 a, 597 a. 
 
 A phrase taken from archery. "When any one had 
 challenged another to shoot at the butts, the slanders 
 by used to cry " Aim " to encourage the shooting. 
 
 CUPID AND DEATH. 26 b. 
 
 This is a beautiful allusion to a little poem anioii. 
 the Elegies of Secundus. The fable is very ancient. 
 
 CULLIONS. 469 b. 
 
 Abject wretches : a term taken from the Italians, 
 and strongly expressive of contempt. 
 
 CURIOSITY. 424 a. 
 
 Here, as in many other passages of these plays, sig- 
 nifies scrupulous attention, anxiety. 
 
 CURIOUS IMPERTINENT. 372 . 
 
 An allusion to the title of one or Cervantes 's novels, 
 which were much read in Massinger's time. 
 
 JURIOUSNESS. 53 a, 
 
 Refined and over-scrupulous consideration of the 
 subject. 
 
 DAG. 376 a. 
 
 A pocket-pistol. Their introduction is mentioned by 
 Knolles in his "History of the Turks." 
 
 DALLIANCE. 23 b. 
 
 Hesitation, delay. 
 
6 3 8 
 
 GLOSSARIAL INDEX. 
 
 DANGER. 358 />, 453 b. 
 
 To be in your danger meant to be in your debt. So 
 Portia : 
 
 "You stand within his danger, do you notf 
 
 DEAD-PAYS. 57 b. 
 
 The coliusory practices here r.l!uded to appear not 
 to have been unfrequent Sir W. Davenant mentions 
 many similar corruptions in the " war department " of 
 his time. 
 
 DEAF. 613 b. 
 
 [Mr. Crofton Croker reads dumb, but the change 
 seems required by the sense. It may, however, be the 
 correct word, and have been used as meaning not 
 merely muteness, but the mental state generally of 
 what we call the " dumb creation." Antiochus in short 
 may have wished that he had been born "a beast 
 wanting discourse of reason."} 
 
 DECIMO-SEXTO. 49 a, 260 b. 
 
 This expression in both places applied to a page. 
 Giffpr-1 says that no author, with whom he is ac- 
 quainted, repeats himself so frequently, and with so 
 little ceremony as Massinger. 
 
 DECK. 472 b. 
 
 " Ready in the deck " means in the heap, the gross. 
 In our old poets a pack of cards is called a d:cfc. 
 
 DECLINE. 255 a. 
 
 Here means to divert from their course. 
 
 DEDUCT. 573 a. 
 
 " Do not deduct it to days." A latinism from dedtt- 
 cere, to bring it down, or reduce it to days. 
 
 DEER OF TEN. 340*7. 
 
 A deer that has ten branches to his horns, which 
 they have at three years old. 
 
 DEFENDED. 482 b. 
 
 Forbidden, interdicted, as in the French. The 
 word occurs in this sense in many of our old writers. 
 
 DEFENSIBLE. 460 b. 
 
 Become an object of justification rather than of 
 shame. 
 
 DEGREES. 207 b. 
 
 Scalae Gemonue. Abrupt and nigged precipices oa 
 the Aventine, where the bodies of state criminals were 
 flung. See GEMON1ES. 
 
 DEMEANS. 284 b. 
 
 Here used for means, as demerits for merits. [Qy. 
 Demesnes.! 
 
 DEPART. 136 a. 
 
 Depart and part were anciently synonymous, i hus 
 Ben Jonson 
 
 " He that departs with his own honesty 
 For vulgar praise, does it too dearly buy." 
 
 DEPENDENCIES. 254 . 
 
 " Masters of dependencies " were a set of needy 
 bravoes, who undertook to ascertain the authentic 
 grounds of a quarrel, and in some cases to settle it for 
 the timorous or unskilful. 
 
 DERIVE. 603 <7. 
 
 Verb neuter, to comefrom. JOHNSON. 
 
 DISCLOSE. 258 b. 
 
 Constantly used by our old writers for hatch. 
 
 DISSOLVE. 90 , 209^. 
 
 " Dissolve this doubtful riddle." Our old writers used 
 dissolve and solve indiscriminately ; or if they made 
 any difference it was in favour of the former. 
 
 DISTASTE. 52 , 135^, 622 a. 
 
 Displease. The word perpetually recurs in this 
 sense; us also in that of dislike. "It is so used l<v 
 Congrevt-. 
 
 DISTEMPERED. 65 b. 
 
 Intoxicated. It is used thus in " Hamlet," and by 
 Shiriey in "The Grateful Servant." 
 
 DIVERT. 227 a. 
 
 The motives that divert us, i.e., turn us aside fcom 
 following your advice. 
 
 DRESSER. 46 b, 472 b. 
 
 In both these places the dresser is called the cook's 
 drum. It was formerly customary for the cook, when 
 dinner was ready, to knock on the dresser with his 
 knife by way of summoning the sen-ants to earn' it into 
 the hall. Thus Suckling 
 
 "Just in the nick the cook knocked thrice. 
 And all the waiters in a trice 
 His summons did obey." 
 
 ELENCHS. 331 a. 
 
 A sophistical refuta 
 an opponent. 
 
 ation of a position maintained by 
 
 EMPIRIC. 342 b. 
 
 Massinger's empiric may be considered as the fruit- 
 ful parent of the quack, which for the two last cen- 
 turies has poisoned us in the closet and entertained us 
 on the stage. It may be doubted whether Massinger \ 
 ever fell into Moliere's hands, but there is so striking 
 a resemblance between a passage in the "Malade- 
 Imaginaire" and this before us, that it is difficult to '. 
 believe the coincidence accidental. 
 
 Toinclte. Je voudrais que vous eussiez toutes les i 
 maladies que je viens de dire ; que vous fussiez aban- i 
 donne de tous les medecins, desespere, b I'agonie, pour ' 
 vous montrer 1'excellence de mes remedes, et 1'envie 
 que j aurais de vous rendre service. 
 
 Argan. Je vous suis oblige, mor.bieur, desboutes qae 
 vous avez pour moi, etc. 
 
 ENTRADAS. 487 b. 
 
 Rents, revenues. 
 
 EQUAL MART. 539 b. 
 
 A vile translation of in cequo marte, in equal fight. 
 
 ESTRIDGE TRAIN. 57^,263^. 
 
 Ostrich tail. There is some humour in this lively 
 apostrophe to the bird. 
 
 EXTENDED. 418 , 453 . 
 
 " This manor is extended to my use," ;>., seized. It ' 
 is a legal phrase, and occurs continually. 
 
 EYASSES. 315 a. 
 
 A young hawk newly taken out of the nest, and not . 
 able to prey for himself. 
 
 585 * 
 to fit. 
 
 FADGE. 
 
 To suit to 
 
 FARCE. 609 b. 
 
 To stuff a culinary term. 
 
 FAULT. 126 b, 577 b. 
 
 Misfortune. That the word anciently had this mean- 
 ing could be proved by many examples. 
 
 FESTIVAL- EXCEEDINGS. 314 a, 425 a. 
 
 At the Middle Temple an additional dish to the- 
 regular dinner is still called " Exceedings." 
 
 FEWTERER. 260^,314^. 
 
 A name which frequently occurs in our old treatises 
 on Hunting. He was the person who took charge of 
 the dogs immediately under the huntsman. 
 
 FINE-NESS. 152 . 
 
 Subtle and ingenious device. Johnson and Gifford 
 concur in reprobating the introduction of the word 
 jitttss: into our language as quite unnecessary. 
 
GLOSSARIAL INDEX. 
 
 639- 
 
 FLIKS. 10 a. 
 
 This word is used by Ben Jonson, a close and de- 
 voted imitator of the ancients, for a domestic parasite, 
 a familiar, &c. 
 
 FOR. 29 b. 
 
 "But far enough for reaching." The word for oc- 
 curs perpetually in these plays in the sense of preven- 
 tion. It is so used by every writer of Massinger's age. 
 
 FREQUENT. 195 a. 
 
 ""!L\S frequent in the city,' 
 rently reported in the city. 
 
 a latinism, for 'tis cur- 
 
 FKEQUENT 197 b. 
 
 " Frequent senate," a latinism for a " full house." 
 
 FRIPPERY. 425 a. 
 
 An old clothes shop. The word is pure French, but 
 occurs in most of our ancient dramatists. 
 
 FUR. 425 b. 
 
 " Get your fur " to put under her feet while she tried 
 on the shoes, says M. Mason. Gifford characteris- 
 tically adds, " Grande ccrlamen ! was not the fur a 
 piece of undressed skin, such as is sometimes used by 
 ladies of the present day in lieu of a shoeing horn?" 
 
 FEEING. 81 b. 
 
 fGifford printed feeling. \ have made the change 
 e hesitation.] 
 
 with som 
 
 GABEL. 326 a. 
 
 This spirit of imposition is well touched on by 
 Donne : 
 
 . shortly, boys shall not play 
 
 At span-counter, or blow point, but shall pay 
 
 Toll to some courtier. Sat. iv. 
 
 GALLERIEN. 
 
 A galley slave. French. 
 
 GALLIARD. 578 a. 
 
 Is described by Sir John Davies as a " swift and 
 wandering dance with lofty turns and capriols in the 
 
 GARDED ROBE. 194 b, 598 b. 
 
 A laced or bordered robe. 
 
 GAZET. 266. 
 
 A Venetian coin (gazetta) worth about three farthings 
 of our money. The petty Italian courant, or written 
 summary of intelligence was originally sold for this 
 sum ; hence it derived the name which is now common 
 to all the newspapers of Europe. 
 
 GEMONIES. 207 b. 
 
 The Gemonies (Scaltz Gemonia) were abrupt and 
 rugged precipices on the Aventine, where the bodies 
 of state criminals were flung, and whence, after they 
 had been exposed to the insults of the rabble, they 
 were dragged to the Tiber, which flowed at the foot 
 of the hill. 
 
 GENEVA PRINT. 65 a. 
 
 Alluding to the spirituous liquor so called. 
 
 GLORIOUS. 39 a, 55^, 227 b. 
 
 Vain, boastful, ostentatious, vaunting. 
 
 Go BY ! 278 b. 
 
 This is an allusion to the "Spanish Tragedy;" the 
 constant butt of all the writers of those times, who seem 
 to be a little uneasy, notwithstanding their scotfs at its 
 popularity. 
 
 GOLD AND STORE. 296 a, 446 a. 
 
 This expression, which is taken from an old ballad, 
 frequently occurs in these plays. 
 
 Go NO LESS. 441 a, 547 b. 
 
 This is a gaming phrase, and means I will not play 
 for a smaller stake. 
 
 GOLLS. 443 a. 
 
 A cant word for hands, or rather fists. It occurs con- 
 tinually in our old writers. 
 
 GOOD. 358 b, 442 a. 
 
 Luke here alludes to the mercantile sense of the- 
 wordgood, i.e. rich. 
 
 GOOD FELLOWS. 487 b, 490 a. 
 
 A cant name by which highwaymen and thieves have 
 been long pleased to denominate themselves ; and 
 which has been given them, in courtesy, by others. 
 
 GOVERNOR'S PLACE. 7 a. 
 
 From the Latin, ne sir mihi tutor. 
 
 GRANSON. 358 a. 
 
 The " memorable overthrow" of Granson took place 
 March 3rd, 1476 ; that of Morat, June sand, in the same 
 year; and that of -Nancy, January sth, 1477. In this 
 Charles (or, as he is here called, Charalois), Duke of 
 Burgundy, fell, and the subtle fox of France, the politic 
 Louis XI., shortly after seized upon the defenceless 
 duchy. 
 
 GREAT wholesale. 318 b. 
 GREEN APRON. 1340;. 
 
 It should be observed that this colour is appropriated 
 to the descendants of Mahomet. To "land at Tunis," 
 or any other town professing the Mahometan religion, 
 in a green dress at this day would place the wearer's 
 safety in danger. 
 
 GREGORIES. 578 a. 
 
 Gifford leaves this word unexplained. Gregorie was 
 a famous barber and wigmaker of Massinger's day. 
 Bishop Hall, for some similar reason, I suppose, uses 
 Rogerians for false scalps. 
 
 GUARD. 288 b. 
 
 Posture of defence. 
 
 625 b. 
 
 Gyaros or Gyara was a small island in the 
 sea. Under the Romans it was used as a place of 
 banishment, and was one of the most dreaded spots | 
 employed for that purpose. 
 
 HAND. 153 b. 
 
 "Hand with my will" means go hand -in-hand, co- 
 operate, with my will. 
 
 HAWKING. 315 a. 
 
 Humanity has seldom obtained a greater triumph in 
 the animal world than in the abolition of this most exe- 
 crable pursuit, compared to which cock-fighting and 
 bull-baiting are innocent amusements ; and this not so 
 much on account of the game killed in the open field, 
 as of the immense number of domestic animals sacrificed 
 to the instruction of the hawk. The blood runs cold 
 while we peruse the calm directions of the brutal 
 falconer to impale, tie down, fasten by the beak, break 
 the legs and wings of living pigeons, hens, and some- 
 times herons, for the hourly exercise of the hawk, who 
 was thus enabled to pull them to pieces without resis- 
 tance. 
 
 HELL. 424 a. 
 
 The hole was one of the wretched departments of a 
 gaol, in which prisoners, who could not afford to pay for 
 better accommodations, were obliged to take up the*- 
 residence. The darkest part of this hole was called 
 hell a. dungeon within a dungeon in some prisons. 
 See " Howard's Reports." 
 
640 
 
 GLOSSARIAL INDEX. 
 
 HORNED MOONS. 143^. 
 
 This elegant allusion to the impress of the Turkish 
 standards is beautifully varied ia the " Knight of Malta" 
 by Fletcher. 
 
 " And all their silver crescents then I saw. 
 Like falling meteors' spent, and set for ever 
 Under the cross of Malta." 
 
 ; HOSE. 240 a, 567 a. 
 
 Hose are breeches; paned host are breeches com- 
 posed of small squares or panels. L^ erna P s ' rather, 
 breeches with openings in the cloth where pieces of 
 stuff of other colours were inserted.] 
 
 HUMANITY. 360 a. 
 
 Polite literature. The term is still preserved in the 
 Scotch universities. 
 
 HUNT'S UP. 76 a. 
 
 Was a lesson on the horn, played under the windows 
 of sportsmen, to call them up in the morning. It was 
 prolbly sufficiently obstreperous, for it is frequently 
 applied by our old writers, as in this place, to any noise 
 or clamour of an awakening or alarming nature. 
 
 IMP. 165 a, 221 b, 226 a. 
 
 To imp " is to insert a feather into the wing of a 
 hawk, or other bird, in place of one that is broken." 
 To this practice our old writers, who seem to have been, 
 in the language of the present day, keen sportsmen, 
 perpetually allude. There is a passage in Tomkis's 
 "Albumazar" which would be admired even in the 
 noblest scenes of Shakspeare : 
 
 How slow the day slides on I when we desire 
 
 Tune's haste, he seems to lose a match with lobsters ; 
 
 And when we wish him stay, he imps his wings 
 
 H 'ith feathers plumed -with thought! 
 
 IMPOTENT. 48 a, 227 b, 499 a, 617 a. 
 
 Wild, fierce, uncontrollable in his passions : this is a 
 latinisin, impotens amoris, and is a very strong ex- 
 pression. Horace applies the word to Cleopatra. 
 
 INGLES. 443 a. 
 
 Bosom friends, associates. 
 
 IPHIS. 209 #. 
 
 Vide Anaxarete. 
 
 KA ME, KA THEE ! 432 a. 
 
 Is a Scotch proverb, and means, indulge or serve me, 
 and 111 serve thee in my turn. It is not uncommon in 
 our old dramas. 
 
 KATEXOKEN. 471 a. 
 
 Supereminently the Greek KaTe$DXf* 
 
 KEEPER OF THE DOOR. 184 a. 
 
 This was one of the thousand synonyms of a bawd or 
 pander. 
 
 LACHRYM.E. 254 b, 318 b. 
 
 Was the title of a musical work, composed by John 
 Douland, a celebrated lutanist in the tune of James I. 
 It is alluded to in the Knight of the burning Pestle. 
 
 LADY OF THE LAKE. 397 a. 
 
 This is a very prominent character in Morte Arthur, 
 and in many of our old romances. She seems to be the 
 Circe of the dark ages ; and is frequently mentioned by 
 our old dramatists. 
 
 LAMIA. 24 b. 
 
 The sorceress, the hag. The word is pure Latin. 
 
 .LANCE PREZADO. 260 a. 
 
 " The lowest range, and meanest officer in an army 
 is called the lance presado or prezado, who is the 
 leader or governor of half a file ; and therefore is called 
 A middleman, or captain over four." The Soldier's 
 Accidence. [The lowest rank at the present time among 
 con-commissioned officers is lance corporaL] 
 
 LAVENDER ROBES. 418 a. 
 
 Clothes just redeemed out of pawn. To lay a thing 
 in lavender was a common phrase for pawning it. 
 
 LAVOLTA. 168 a, 243 a, 438 a, 614 a. 
 
 Lavolta (literally the tttni) was a dance, originally 
 imported with many others from Italy. It is frequently 
 mentioned by our old writers, with whom it was a 
 favourite ; and is so graphically deseribed by Sir John , 
 Davies, in his Orchestra, that all further attempts to 
 explain it must be superfluous. 
 "Yet is there one, the most delightful kind, 
 A lofty jumping or a leaping round, 
 Where, arm-in-arm, two dancers are entwined, 
 And whirl themselves in strict embracements bound." 
 Our countrymen, who seem to be lineally descended 
 from Sisyphus, and who, at the end of every century, 
 usually have their work to do over again, after proudly 
 importing from Germany the long-exploded trash of 
 then- own nurseries, have just brought back from the 
 same country, and with an equal degree of exultation, 
 the well-known lavolta. of their grandfathers under the 
 mellifluous name of -waltz. 
 
 LEAGUER LAUNDRESS. 285 b, 369 a. 
 
 Camp washerwoman. Leaguer is the Dutch, or 
 rather Flemish, word for a camp ; and was one of the , 
 new-fangled terms introduced from the Low Countries. ' 
 
 LENT. 159 b. 
 
 Massinger alludes to the custom which all good 
 Catholics had of confessing themselves at Easter. 
 Good Friday and Easter Sunday are almost the 
 only two days on which the French and Italian sailors 
 ever think of repairing to a confessional 
 
 L' ENVOY. 548 b, 555 b. 
 
 Conclusion, termination, main import. 
 
 LEPER. 171 a. 
 
 " A leper with a clap-dish (to give notice 
 
 He is infectious)." 
 This explains the origin of the custom to which our old 1 
 writers have such frequent allusions. The leprosy was : 
 once very common here, and the old poets seldom i 
 mention a leper without noticing at the same time his \ 
 constant accompaniments, the cup and clapper. Thus 
 Henryson 
 " Thus shall thou go begging from hous to hous 
 
 With cuppe and clapper like a Lazarous. ' 
 The clapper was not, as some imagine, an instrument ; 
 solely calculated for making a noise ; it was simply the ; 
 cover of the cup or dish, which the poor wretch opened : 
 and shut with a loud clap at the doors of the well- 
 disposed. 
 
 LETS. 7 a, 610. 
 
 Impediments, obstacles. 
 
 LIGHTLY. 117 a. 
 
 Commonly, usually. 
 
 LIME-HOUND. 529 a. 
 
 The common hound. 
 
 LIONS. 598 b, 613 , 6i8<z. 
 
 Cybele was often represented in a chariot drawn by . 
 lions. The old Flamen wore her " sacred image drawn 
 thus in pomp" upon his breast. Hence his frequent | 
 references to his lions. 
 
 LITTLE LEGS. 506 . 
 
 Slender legs seem at this time to have been con- 
 sidered as one of the characteristics of a fine gentle- 
 man. Jonson expressly says so in the " Poetaster," : 
 " a man borne upon little legs is always a gentleman 
 born." 
 
 LOOKING-GLASSES. 424 a. 
 
 It appears from innumerable passages in pur old ; 
 writers that it was customary, not only'for ladies, but 
 for gentlemen, to cam,- mirrors about them. 
 
GLOSSARIAL INDEX. 
 
 6 4 i 
 
 LOTH TO DEPART. 583 a. 
 
 There was anciently both a tune and a dance of this 
 name. 
 
 LUDGATE. 428 b. 
 
 This prison was anciently appropriated to the free 
 nien of the city and to clergymen. It was taken down 
 in Nov. 1760. 
 
 MAGNIFICENT. 
 
 Constantly used by 
 
 assinger for ; 
 
 tificent. 
 
 MANDRAKES. 350;. 
 
 Mandrakes have a soporific quality, and were used 
 by the ancients when they wanted a narcotic of the 
 most powerful kind. To this there are perpetual 
 allusions in our old writers. 
 
 MANKIND. 437 b. 
 
 Masculine, mannish. It sometimes carried with it 
 the stronger sense of violent, ferocious, wicked. 
 
 MARMOSET. 437 a. 
 
 A small monkey. 
 
 MERMAID. 582 b. 
 
 The mermaids of the writer's time had succeeded to 
 the syrens of the ancients, and possessed all their 
 musical as well as seductive qualities. Mermaid also 
 was one of the thousand cant terms which served to 
 denote a strumpet; and to this perhaps Agatha 
 alludes. 
 
 MICHER. 474 a. 
 
 To mich is to lurk. 
 
 MINERVA. 220 a. 
 
 This attachment of Domitian to Minerva is an his- 
 torical fact. He chose her at an early period of his 
 life for his protectress, multiplied her statues to a great 
 extent, and had always a strong reliance on her 
 favour. 
 
 MISTRESSES. 1290, i68a, 621 , 6230. 
 
 Servant and Mistress signified in the language of 
 Massinger's time, a lover and the object of his affec- 
 tions. Let me now call the reader's attention to the 
 exquisite melody of this speech (Charles in Scene y. 
 Act i of " Parliament of Love, p. 168 a "). Nothing is 
 forced, nothing is inverted ; plainness and simplicity are 
 all the aids of which the poet has availed himself; yet a 
 more perfect specimen of flowing, elegant, and rhyth- 
 mical modulation is not to be found in the English lan- 
 guage. The sprightliness, energy, and spirit, which 
 pervade the remainder of this scene, are worthy of all 
 praise. 
 
 MOMPESSON, SIR GILES. 395 b. 
 
 Was undoubtedly the prototype of Sir Giles Over- 
 reach. He and one Michel had obtained of the facile 
 James a patent for the sole manufacturing of gold and 
 silver thread, which they abused to the most detestable 
 purposes. This is specially alluded to in the " Bond- 
 man," Act ii. scene 3. His character will be found in 
 Wilson's " Life and Reign o_f James I.," SM& anno 1621. 
 When the cup of his iniquities was full, and the House 
 of Commons ordered his apprehension (3rd March, 
 1620), he made his escape beyond sea. On the spth of 
 the same month a proclamation was issued, banishing 
 him from the king's dominions, and degrading him from 
 knighthood. His associate, Sir Francis Michel (Justice 
 Greedy), was also degraded, fined a thousand pounds, 
 carried on horseback through the principal streets (his 
 face to the tail), and imprisoned for life. 
 
 MORAT. 358 a. 
 
 Vide Gra 
 
 MUSICIANS. 
 
 In these lines there is an allusion to another profes- 
 sion (of a less honourable nature), which in those days 
 was commonly added to that of music-master. 
 
 NANCY. 358 a. 
 
 Vide Granson. 
 
 NEAT-HOUSE. 437 a. 
 
 The Neat-house was a celebrated garden and nursery 
 near Chelsea, 
 
 NlMMING. 486 a. 
 
 The word is pure Saxon, and means to take, to seize. 
 It is found in all our old writers, and, indeed, is still in 
 use as a cant term for stealing. 
 
 NO CUNNING QUEAN. 
 
 In our author's time, as is justly observed by War- 
 burton, " the negative, in common speech, was used 
 ironically to express the excess of a thing." 
 
 OIL OF ANGELS. 82 <r. 
 
 It may be just necessary to observe that this is a 
 pleasant allusion to the gold coin of that name. 
 
 OLYMPUS. 41 la. 
 
 Either Massinger or his transcriber has mistaken 
 Olympus for Parnassus. It may be the former ; for in 
 trusting to their memory, such slips are not unusual in 
 our old writers, who were, indeed, little solicitous of 
 accuracy in these trivial matters. 
 
 ORC. 220 b. 
 
 A fabulous sea monster, depicted on most of the 
 charts of Massinger's time. The whale of our old 
 romances. 
 
 OUT. 170 b. 
 
 " I'll not out for a second." 
 
 f l.<\ it is evident from the sequel that Noyall did take 
 up rhe bet, the Edinburgh Reviewers maintained that 
 the word " not " in this line should have been omitted. 
 Gifford successfully defended his reading, and proved" 
 beyond all question that the meaning of " I'll not out" 
 was " I'll not be found wanting."] 
 
 OUTCRY. 4290:, 596^. 
 
 A public auction. [The word is still used by our , 
 countrymen in India.] 
 
 OWE. 5 a, io8a, 141 . 
 
 To oivn. 
 
 " No sound that the earth owes." Tempest. 
 
 PACKING. 239 b. 
 
 Insidious contrivance ; iniquitous collusion. The 
 word is thus used by Shakspeare, and others, [and the 
 term is preserved in " packing a jury."] 
 
 PADDER. 396 b. 
 
 A lurker about the highways, a foot-pad. 
 
 PANTOFLE. 49 a. 
 
 " Ere I was sworn to the pantofle " means before I 
 was taken from my first menial service, and made 
 attendant on a lady. 
 
 PARALLEL. 88 b. 
 
 " And, but herself, admits no parallel." 
 This idea, in the much ridiculed form of 
 
 " None but himself can be his parallel," 
 is familiar to every one as a verse of Theobald's ; 
 but not only is it found in Massinger, but twenty 
 instances of it could be adduced from his contempo- 
 raries. 
 
 PARAI.LELG. 258 b. 
 
 The word seems to be used here for radii. Other 
 writers of the time fell into the same error. 
 
 PARTED. n#, 244^. 
 
 Favoured, or endowed, with a part, or parts. 
 
 PARTHIAN. 597 b. 
 
 Mr. Crofton Crokcr prints Parthenon. 
 
 T T 
 
642 
 
 GLOSSARIAL INDEX. 
 
 PASH. 10 b. 
 
 To strike a thing with such force as to crush it to 
 pieces. 
 
 PASSIONATE. 226 a, 575 . 
 
 Plaintive, full of sorrow, deeply affected. 
 
 PASSION. 561 a, 593 . 
 
 Pathetic speech, or exclamation. 
 
 PASTRY FORTIFICATIONS. 391^. 
 
 The cooks of Elizabeth and James took great pride 
 in the construction of these fortifications ; [and in later 
 days Gibraltar and Serinsjapatam were similarly com- 
 memorated. The earth-works of Todleben were not 
 picturesque chough for the purpose.] 
 
 PATCH. 9^, 406 , 4195. 
 
 Patch was the cant name of a fool kept by Cardinal 
 Wolsey ; and who has had the honour of transmitting 
 his appeuation to a very numerous body of descen- 
 dants ; he being " a notable fool in his time." 
 
 PEEVISH. 20 b. 
 
 Foolish. Mrs. Quickly says of her fellow servant, 
 "His worst fault is that he is given to prayer : he is 
 something peevish that way." " Your peevishness," 
 415 b, means you his daughter. 
 
 PESCARA. 70 b. 
 
 The Marquis was indeed a. "great soldier," a fortu- 
 nate commander, an able negotiator, in a word one of 
 the chief ornaments of a period which abounded in 
 extraordinary characters. 
 
 PIG-SCONCE. 438 a. 
 
 A heavy, dull-pated fellow. 
 
 PLACE. 462 a, 557 a. 
 
 In falconry means the greatest elevation which a bird 
 of prey attains in its flight. This lends additional force 
 to Shakspeare's line 
 
 "A falcon towering in his pride at piarf." 
 
 PLEURISY OF GOODNESS. 550. 
 
 Superabundance of goodness. 
 
 PLYMOUTH CLOAK. 388 a. 
 
 An old expression for a cudgel. Davenant says 
 " Whose cloak, at Plymouth spun, was crab-tree 
 wood." 
 
 POET. 620*. 
 
 The poet wrote truth" Mr. Crofton Croker prints 
 fctt. 
 
 POOR JOHN. 133 b, 298 b. 
 
 Hake dried and salted. 
 
 PORTER'S LODGE. 82 , 3900. 
 
 The porter's lodge in great houses was i! 
 place of punishment for the domestics. 
 
 PORTS, zb, 163 a. 
 
 The gates of a city, as in Edinburgh. 
 
 POSSESS. 235 b. 
 
 Acquaint, inform. In this 
 
 Acquaint, inform. In this sense the word perpetually 
 occurs in our old writers. 
 
 POWER OF THINGS. 195^. 
 
 A Latinism that now sways the world, rerun: 
 fotestas. 
 
 PRACTICE. 187*7, 252 a. 
 
 Insidious trick, stratagem, artifice. 
 
 PREST. 440*5. 
 
 Ready, prepared. 
 
 PREVENT. 139 b, 406 a, 416 a, 563 b. 
 
 Anticipate, from the Latin. It is so used in the 
 PSalms. " Mine eyesfrevfnt the night-watches." 
 
 PROVANT SWORD. 254 . 
 
 A plain, unomaniented sword, sudi as the army is 
 supplied with. 
 
 PUT ON. 185 b, 405 , 452^. 
 
 Ee covered ; a frequent expression in these plays. 
 
 PUT ON YOUR SPIRITS. 353 b.. 
 Rouse, animate them. 
 
 QUALITY. 197 b, 292 b, 376 b, 630. 
 
 Used in a general sense for any occupation, calling. 
 or condition of life, but more peculiarly appropriated 
 by our old writers to that of a player. 
 
 QUELLIO RUFFS. 449 . 
 
 Ruffs for the neck, a corruption of cueUo. 
 
 QUIRPO. 363 a. 
 
 Quirpo (cuerpo) is an undress. The Spaniards, from 
 whom we borrowed the word, apply it to a person in a 
 light jacket, without his cabot or cloak ; but our old 
 dramatists, who use the expression upon all occasions, ! 
 mean by it any state from nakedness to imperfect j 
 clothing. Gilford could not satisfy himself as to the I 
 meaning of Gallyfoist and Bullion in this passage. 
 
 RAGGED CLIFFS. i88a. 
 
 This expressive epithet is from Scripture. " To go j 
 
 into the clefts of the rocks, and into the tops of tlie j 
 
 ragged rocks." Isaiah ii. 21. Massinger is frequently I 
 indebted to this source. 
 
 RAM ALLEY. 399 a. 
 
 Ram Alley b one of the avenues into the Temple 
 from Fleet Street. The stink from its cook-shops is 
 spoken of by Barrey in his comedy (1611). 
 
 REMARKABLE. 43 . 
 
 Had in Massinger's time a more dignified sound, and 
 a more appropriate meaning than it bears at present. , 
 With him it constantly stands for surprising, highly ! 
 striking, or observable in an uncommon degree. 
 
 REMEMBER. 122 , 172 , 472 a. 
 
 Is used for cause to remember, put in mind of. 
 
 RESOLVED. 770, 318(7. 
 
 Convinced. Thus Shaksocai 
 
 " By heavens ! I am resolved 
 That Clifford's manhood lies upon his tongue." 
 
 REST ON IT. 103 a. 
 
 Fixed, determined on it. Taken from the gaming- 
 table. 
 
 RIDE. 437 b. 
 
 " I can but ride" :>., 1 know the worst of my punish- 
 ment ; I can but be carted for a strumpet. 
 
 RlVO. 145 b. 
 
 This interjection is frequently introduced by our old 
 poets, and generally as an incitement to lx>isterous 
 mirth and revelry. 
 
 ROARER. 139 a. 
 
 A cant term for what we now call a blusterer, or 
 bully. 
 
 ROSES. 425.7, 449^. 
 
 These were not the flowers of that name, but knots ol 
 ribands to be fixed on the shoes. They were of pre- 
 posterous size, and extremely dear. 
 
 ROUSE. 65 , II I a, 
 
 A rouse was a large gla.s in which a health was 
 given, the drinking of which by the rest of the company 
 formed a carouse. 
 
 SACRED. 344 . 
 
 Theodosius alludes to the Latin word sa?<r. 
 
GLOSSARIAL INDEX. 
 
 643 
 
 ST. MARTIN'S. 445 a. 
 
 The parish of St. Martin appears, from the old his- 
 tories of London, to have been distinguished succes- 
 sively for a .sanctuary, a bridewell, a spittle, and an 
 alinshouse. Which of them was to be driven from the 
 mind of Mistress Shave'em by the full tide of prosperity 
 which is here anticipated, must be left to the sagacity 
 of the reader. 
 
 SANZACKE. 150*1. 
 
 Governor of a city. 
 
 SCARABS. 78^. 
 
 Beetles. 
 
 SCARLET. 428 a. 
 
 "Or they will ne'er wear scarlet," i.e., never rise to 
 city honours. Our old writers have innumerable 
 allusions to the scarlet gowns of the mayors and alder- 
 men cf London. 
 
 SCOTOMY. 579 b. 
 
 From the Greek; a dizziness or swimming in the 
 head. 
 
 SEEK TO. 62 a, 290 a. 
 
 To supplicate, entreat, have earnest recourse to. 
 Thus in 2 Chron. xvi. 12, we read, " And Asa was 
 diseased in his feet, yet in his disease he sought not to 
 the Lord, but to his physicians." 
 
 ! SEISACTHEIA. 561 a. 
 
 2eto-a*06ia. i.e., a shaking off a burthen ; meta- 
 phorically an abolition of debt. 
 
 i SERVANT. 520, i68<r, 621/7, 623 a. 
 
 Vide Mistress. 
 
 ' SHADOWS. 460. 
 
 It was considered, Plutarch says, as a mark of 
 : politeness, to let an invited guest know that he was at 
 liberty to bring a friend or two with him ; a permission 
 that was, however, sometimes abused. These friends 
 the Romans called shadows (umbra), a term which 
 Massinger has very happily explained. 
 
 ! SHAPE. 131 #, 178 a, 207 a, 209*7, 337 , 
 603 b, 607 a. 
 
 Dress, habit derived irom the phraseology of the 
 theatre. 
 
 i SHEW WATER. 253 a. 
 
 Shew water, to clear his sight. This was a proverbial 
 periphrasis for a bribe, which, in Massinger's days, 
 was found to be the only collyrium for the eyes of a 
 courtier. 
 
 I SIEGE. 462 a. 
 
 "Hern atsttg-eis when you find a hern standing' by 
 the water side watching for prey or the like." 
 
 SKILLS NOT. 65 , 192 a, 1940, 615^. 
 
 Matters not, signifies not. 
 
 ; SLEEPS MOST AN END. 506 a. 
 
 Almost perpetually without intermission. 
 
 i SLEEP ON EITHER EAR. 466 a. 
 
 This idea is derived from Terence, " in aitrem utram- 
 vis dormire," and means to sleep soundly, free from 
 care. 
 
 I SORT 20 b. 
 
 " Sort of rogues," a set, or pack of rogues. Of con- 
 stant recurrence in our old writers. 
 
 SPITTLE. 309 b, 369 b, 437 b. 
 
 The earlier^ editors in each instance changed this 
 word to Spital ; but our old writers carefully distin- 
 guished between the two. With them, a hospital, or 
 spital, signified a charitable institution for the advan- 
 tage of poor, infirm, and aged persons, an almshouse 
 
 in short ; while Spiltlts were mere lazarhouses, recep- 
 tacles for wretches in the leprosy, and other loathsome 
 diseases, the consequence of debauchery and vice. 
 [Thus Ancient Pistol, " News have I that my Doll is 
 dead i' the Spittle of malady of France."] 
 
 SQUIRE o' DAMES. 183 , 323 a. 
 
 This honourable term was degraded by our old 
 dramatists to mean a pander. 
 
 .START-UP. 315*7. 
 
 A coarse kind of half boot or spatterdash with thick 
 soles ; the/<iro of the ancients, 
 
 STATE. 102 a, 251 a. 
 
 The state was a raised platform, on which was placed 
 a chair with a canopy over it. The word occurs per- i 
 petually in our old writers. It is used by Dryden, but [ 
 seems to have been growing obsolete while he was 
 writing : in the first edition of Mac Fleckno, the mo- ' 
 narch is placed on a state: in the subsequent ones he i 
 is seated, like his fellow kings, on a throne : it occurs 
 also, and I believe for the last time, in Swift : " As she- 
 affected not the grandeur of a state with a canopy, she 
 thought there was no offence in an elbow chair." 
 Hist, of John Bull, c. i. 
 
 STATES. 
 
 247 a. 
 
 Statesmen, men of power, &c., , 
 tion of the word. 
 
 common accepta- 
 
 STONES. 315 a. 
 
 I'idc Casting. 
 
 STOOLS, TO BRING WITH ONE, 50^, 266 . 
 
 The singular custom of uninvited or unexpected 
 guests bringing seats with them, is frequently noticed 
 by the writers of Massinger's time. [In the army at 
 this day "camp fashion " means that the guest should 
 bring not chair only, but plate, knife, fork, spoon, and 
 glass likewise.] 
 
 STRANGELY GUARDED. 340 b. 
 
 Perhaps this ought to be strongly guarded. 
 
 STRENGTHS. 155 b, 164 b, 339 b. 
 
 Castles, strong places, and, metaphorically, defences. 
 
 STRIKER. 58 a. 
 
 A striker is a wencher. The word occurs again in 
 the " Parliament of Love." 
 
 SUPPLANT. 154 b. 
 
 To trip up, to overthrow ; a Latinism. 
 
 SWEATING SICKNESS. 58 a. 
 
 This alludes to a species of plague (sitdor anglicus) 
 peculiar, the physicians say, to this country, where it ' 
 made dreadful ravages in the i6th century. It is 
 frequently mentioned by our old writers. 
 
 SWORN SERVANTS. 204<5. 
 
 In Massinger's time the attendants of the great, who 
 maintained them in considerable numbers, took an oath 
 of fidelity on their entering into service. 
 
 TAILORS. 381 b. 
 
 Our old writers abound in allusion to the quantity of 
 bread devoured by tailors. 
 
 TAINT. 184 a. 
 
 To break, in a derogatory sense. It is used in the 
 same way in " Every Man out of his Humour." 
 
 TAKE UP. 228 a, 317 . 
 
 Stop, check yourself. [Shut up, in the slang of 
 1868.] 
 
 TALL. 32^,46^. 
 
 Tall, in the language of our old writers, meant stout, 
 or. rather, bold and fearless : but they abused the word 
 (of which they seem fond) in a great variety of senses 
 A Mil man of his hands, was a great tighter; a tall 
 man of his tongue, a licentious speaker ; and a tall 
 trencherman, a hearty feeder. 
 
644 
 
 GLOSSARIAL INDEX. 
 
 TAMIN. 403 . 
 
 A coarse linsey-woolsey stuff, still worn by the poor 
 of this country, under the name oftamiity, or, rather, 
 : a corruption, I suppose, of ttamine, Fr., 
 which has the same meaning;. 
 
 THING OF THINGS. III<5. 
 j A literal translation 01 Ens Eniium. 
 
 TlMARIOTS. 284 tf. 
 
 The Turkish Cavalry, a sort of feudal yeomanry, 
 who hold their lands on condition of service. 
 
 I TOKEN. 389 a, 447 b. 
 
 During the reign of Elizabeth, and down to Charles 
 
 II., very little copper money was coined. For the con- 
 
 -e of the public, tradesmen were permitted to 
 
 strike tokens, as they were called. The value generally 
 
 was about one farthing. 
 
 : TRILLIBUBS. 578^. 
 
 A cant word for anything- of a trifling nature. 
 
 ' TRIPE. 266 . 
 
 A tripe shop. To "carry my own stool" is explained 
 elsewhere. 
 
 UNCIVIL. 373 . 
 
 Unacquainted with the usages and customs of civil, 
 or municipal life. 
 
 UNEQUAL. 348 1\ 
 
 Unjust. 
 
 UNTAPPICE. 511 #. 
 
 To discover one's self. A hunting frame for turning 
 the game out of a bag, or driving it out of a cover. 
 
 USES. 254 , 335 a. 
 
 An expression adopted by our old dramatists from 
 
 the Puritans, who usually divided their discourses into 
 
 aectrines and uses. By the former they meant the 
 
 explanation of their subject ; and by the latter the 
 
 .: :al inferences drawn from it. 
 
 VARLETS. 3810. 
 
 So our old v riters call the sheriffs officers. 
 
 VlRBIUS. 209 a. 
 
 The name given to Hippolytus, after he was re- 
 ! stored to life by ,-Esculapius. He was so called, say 
 the critics, " quod inter viros bis fuerit." 
 
 VOLEY. 304 . 
 
 " What we spake on the voley," a literal translation 
 ' of the French phrase a la. vole'e, which signifies at 
 ! random, or inconsiderately. [The word is preserved 
 in the technical language of the racquet-court] 
 
 VOTES. 484 b. 
 
 Prayers. I do not know who led the V.T. 
 pedantic adoption of the Latin word (ivtn 
 find it in Jonson, and in others before his time. 
 
 VAPPA. 614 a. 
 
 Palled wine that has lost its strength (Latin). 
 
 WAISTCOATEER. 437 a. 
 
 It appears from innumerable passages in our old 
 plays that -waistcoater was a cant term for a strumpet 
 of the lowest kind ; probably given to them fr 
 usually appearing, either through choice or necessity, 
 in a succinct habit. 
 
 WHERE. iG8, 3540, 389 a, 496 a, 525(7, 
 
 Constantly used for whereas. 
 
 WHILE. 219 . 
 
 Until : a very common acceptation of the word in our 
 old writers. 
 
 WHITING MOP. 482^. 
 
 A young whiting. Puttenham says "We call little 
 fishes that be not come to their full growth moppes, as 
 whiting moppes, gurnard moppes, &c." 
 
 WITNESS. 333 a. 
 
 The puritan word for sponsor. 
 
 WORK OF GRACE. 
 
 This is a reverential description of the elevation 
 the host ; and could only be written by a man on whom 
 that awful act of pious daring had made a deep and 
 lasting impression. 
 
 WREAK. 135 a. 
 
 To revenge. So Spenser : 
 
 "Another's wrongs t'j urcak upon t: 
 
 YAW. 510 b. 
 
 Yaw is that unsteady morion which a ship makes in 
 a great swell, when in steering she inclines to 
 or left of her course. 
 
 YELLOW. 87 a. 
 
 "I should wear yellow breeches." Be jealous : 
 with our old poets, being the livery of jealousy ; pro- 
 bably because it was that of Hymen. 
 
 ZANY. 557 . 
 
 To imitate. So Lovelace : 
 " As I have seen an arrogant baboon 
 AVith a small piece of glass zany tiu 
 
LD 2lA-60m-3,'65 
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