_Duke_. Cannot my kneeling serve, my teares prevaile,

When all helpes faile mee, yet this will not faile:

Proffer thy weapon to her beautious side,

And with her heart my heart I will divide.

Intreaty Ile urge none more then are past,

And either now relent or heres my last.

_Fred_. Stay: if I should relent, will you agree

To sign our general pardon presently?

_Duke_. By heaven I doe, I freely pardon all

And a reward I give in generall.

_Fred_. Then take her, you deserve her were shee better,

Making your Crown and life to be her Debter.

_Duke_. Welcome a thousand times, welcome, sweete wife,

Never more deare then now I have saved[205] thy life.

_Valen_. This more then kindnesse I turne backe to you,

Doubling my chast vow to bee ever true.

_Fred_. Then here the warres end, here[206] our fightings marde,

Yet by your leave Ile stand upon my Guard.

_Duke_. Take any course you please, Citie or Towne,

My royall word Ile keepe by this my Crowne.

_Fred_. Then thus Ile take my leave.

_Duke_. Since we must part,

Farewell, my Sonne, all farewell with my heart.

[_Exeunt Fred, and his [sic]_.

_Mon_. Twas well, my Lord, 'twas a good policie,

To gaine your bride: I hope your grace did not meane

To be thus overrulde, by a proud Sonne.

_Duke_. Why, thinke you he intends some treachery?

_Mon_. Why not? and did release _Valentia_

To blind your eyes. Hee that could be so proud,

To rise in armes against his naturall Father,

Hath courage to doe more when he sees time.

_Duke_. But I have pardon'd that offence by oath.

_Mon_. It were no periury to make him know

Hee is your Sonne, and sonnes a dutie owe.

This sequestration will in time aspire

Unto a flame shall set your Realme on fire;

For[207] when a Subject hath the meanes of will,

'Tis not enough, to say he has no will;

For will is alter'd by the place and time

And hee that's once up knowes the way to clime.

I speake perchance like a prophetique foole,

But these are wise can counsaile with your bride;

Wisedome adviseth timely to provide.

_Duke_. What thinkes my love of _Frederickes_ reconcilment?

_Valen_. That he has spirit enough, to be a traytor.

But I am beholding to him for a life

And he may brag he gave your grace a wife.

A [O?] good old man, he could not choose but feele

For shame some small remorse to see you kneele.

Pray God he gave me not into your hand

That he might be the ruine of your land.

_Duke_. Thinkes my love so? but, brothers, what's your censure?

_Hat_. I am no Polititian.

_Alfred_. Neither I:

Wee are both content to live quietly.

_Duke_. Hee may be a villaine tho' he be my Sonne.

_Mon_. Why not? and worke your ruine like a foe.

Had he meant well, why did he leave you so?

Your noble heart was free from all deceipt,

But hee's retirde to doe some dangerous feate.

When Subjects stand upon their guard, looke to't,

They have some plot in hand, and they will do't.

_Duke_. What course is readiest to prevent such mischiefe?

_Mon_. Plucke up the fulsome thistle in the prime:

Young trees bend lightly, but grow strong in time.

Were I the worthiest to advise your honour,

You should pursue him with your spredding bandes

Swifter in march then is the lightning flame,

And take him tardy whilst his plots are tame.

Now to charge on his army, questionlesse

Would drive them all into a great distresse,

If not confound them; having tane your Sonne,

You may be as kind, and doe as hee hath done;

So shall he know himself and be lesse proud.

_Valen_. The counsailes good.

_Duke_. And it shall be allowed.

You that doe love me, see the host prepar'd

To scare those traytors that our liues have scarde.

Our armie's many, but their power is few:[208]

Besides, they are traytors, all with us are true.

Sound Drums and trumpets, make the world rebound;

Hearten our friends, and all our foes confound.

[_Alarum_.

[_Exeunt_.

[SCENE 2.]

_Enter Montano, with two or three souldiers;

Vandarmas leading Fredericke bound_.

_Fred_. Base cowards, traytors! how am I surprizde,

[Bound] with these bonds? I am a Prince by birth,

And princely spirits disdaine such clogs of earth.

Let goe, you slaves.

_Mon_. First know your fathers pleasure.

_Fred_. You are too bold.

_Mon_. But you shall keepe a measure.

_Fred_. Thou blood of common Concubines, must I

Be bound by thee, and heir of _Saxony_?

_Enter Duke and Valen_.

_Duke_. It is our pleasure.

_Valen_. Have you caught him so?

Now shall you waite the mercy we will shew:

I was too base to be your father's wife.

_Duke_. But he shall sue to thee to save his life.

_Fred_. Perjurde, ungratefull, unnaturall,

Is this the pardon given in generall?

_Duke_. Wee'l talke of that hereafter; make him fast.

_Valen_. Helpe, _Vandermas_, our self will ayding be

To keepe in awe such sencelesse trechery.

_Duke_. My helpe and all to prison, there till death

Remaine in duresse.

_Fred_. Rather stop my breath,

Strangle me with these cords; prison to me

Is twenty deaths, I will have liberty.

Now as you are a father, be more kind;

You did not find me in so sterne a mind.

Are[209] you forgetful of the life I sav'd?

Shall a Duke's Sonne by treason thus be slav'd?

If you suspect my love, grant me the fight;

I dare in single combate any knight,

Any adventurer, any pandorus hinde,

To proue my faith of an unfained mind.

_Duke_. Away with him.

_Fred_. I see my death's set downe,

And some adulterous heire must weare that Crowne.

To intreate a _Rodophe_, I had rather dye

Then have my life lodg'd in such infamy:

If all my fortunes on her words depend,

Let her say kill me, and so make an end.

_Duke_. Why stay you?

_Vander_. Good my Lord.

_Fred_. Peace, untaught Groome,

My heart's so great that Ide forerun my doome.

There's no release meant, you have vowed I see

To dam your soules by wilfull periury.

Yet that I am my self, let these words shew:

To die is naturall, tis a death I owe,

And I will pay it, with a mind as free

As I enjoyed in my best libertie.

But this assure your self, when all is done,

They'l kill the father that will kill the sonne. [_Exit_.

_Duke_. What's to be done now?

_Mon_. Seale unto his death,

Your warrant nere the sooner takes effect:

'Twill be a meanes to make him penitent.

Seeing his fault, hee'l taste your mercie best,

When now he proudly thinkes he is opprest.

_Duke_. A Warrant shall be sign'd, and unto thee

I doe commend it; deale not partially;

If he be sorry and in true remorse,

Cancell the Writ, else let it have full force.

Had I ten sonnes, as I have onely this,

They should all die, ere thou depriv'd of blisse.

So great is my affection, my faire wife,

That to save thine Ide frankly give my life.

Come, weele about it strait, all time seemes long,

Where thou hast found slight cause to feare my wrong.

_Valen_. That writ Ile take, and a conclusion trie:

If he can love he lives, if hate me die.

For howsoere, I seeme to scorne the man,

Hee's somewhat deare in my affection.--

Here comes your brothers.

_Enter Alfred, and Hatto_.

_Alfred_. May it please your grace,

By chance entring into Saint _Maries_ Church,

This morn by breake of day, I espied

That that I know will vexe your Excellence:

Your daughter _Euphrata_ is married

To the ambitious beggar _Constantine_.

_Duke_. My daughter married to my Chamber-squire?

_Mon_. Your Excellence did banish me the land

Because I did suspect her with that fellow.

_Duke_. He shall be tortur'd with th'extreamest plague

For his presumption.--Have you brought them,

That I may kill them with a killing looke?

_Hat_. Without direction we have ventured

To lay upon them your strict command,

And they attend.

_Duke_. Bring the presumptuous.

_Enter Constantine, and Euphrata, Otho following in disguise_.

_Euph_. Forward, _Constantine_, our Rites are done,

Thou art my husband, doe not feare his eye,

The worst it can import is but to die.

_Duke_. Base and degenerate.

_Euph_. He is a Gentleman,

'Twas base of you to wed a Curtizan.

_Mon_. Her brothers spirit right, bold and audacious.

_Euph_. When[210] I am no bastard, wherefore should I feare?

The knot is sacred, and I hold it deare;

I am wedded unto virtue, not to will,

Such blessed unions never bring forth ill.

If I offend, in disobedience,

Judge of the power of love by your offence.

Father, you have no reason for this ire;

Frowne whilst you kill us, desire is desire.

_Duke_. A Curtezan? hath that ambitious boy

Taught you such Rethoricke? you shall taste like joy.

I will not reason with you, words are vaine,

The fault is best discerned in the paine.

Your hastie marriage hath writ downe his death,

And thy proud words shall scale it with thy breath.

By what is dearest to mee, here I sweare,

Both of your heads, shall grace a fatall beere.

Take them to prison, Ile not heare a word,

This is the mercie that we will afford.

Since they are growne so proud, next morn begun,

Let them be both beheaded with my sonne.

_Con_. Short and sweet: _Euphrata_, the doome is faire,

We shall be soone in heaven, there ends my care.

I scorne entreatie, and, my deare, I know,

All such slavery thou hatest so,

'Twill be a famous deed for this good man

To kill all's children for a Curtezan.

_Euph_. Wilt thou die with me?

_Const_. Would I live in heaven?

Thou art now too high for me, death makes us even.

_Euph_. Looke to your dukedome: those that hast our fall

Have by their avarice almost hurried all.

There's a whole Register of the poores crie:

Whilst they are reading them, imbrace and die.

[_Flings downe her lap full of Petitions_.

[_Exeunt Euph. and Constant_.

_Duke_. Beare them away.--And now let's reade these Writes.

What's here? complaints against my worthy brothers

For corne transported, Copper money stampt,[211]

Our subjects goods ceaz'd, and I know not what.

A plague upon this busie-headed rabble!

We will have tortures made to awe the slaves;

Peace makes them ever proud and malapert,

They'l be an Overseer of the State.

_Valen_. And plead reformation to depose you.

_Duk_. True, my faire Dutchesse, but Ile cut them short.

Rule still, deare brothers: take these to the fire,

Let me reade somewhat that augments desire,

Authors and golden Poems full of love;

Such the Petitions are that I approve.

So I may live in quiet with my wife,

Let fathers, mothers, children, all lose life.

If thou have issue, in despight of fate

They shall succeed in our Imperiall state.

Come, sweet, to dauncing, then to sport and play,

Till we have ruled all our life away.

[_Exeunt_.

_Manet, Otho_.

_Otho_. O pittifull condition of a Realme,

Where the chiefe ruler is ore-rul'd by pleasure!

Seeing my friend supriz'd, in this disguise

I followed him to meete the consequence.

And to my griefe I see his marriage rites

Will cut him short of all this earths delights.

What's that to me? When _Constantine_ is dead,

I have some hope to attaine her Nuptiall bed.

But she is doom'd as well as hee to die:

Can the Duke act his daughters Tragedie?

It is impossible; he will relent,

And Ile perswade her freely to repent.

Yet 'tis most likelie that he will agree:

He is so farre spent in vild tyrannie.

The commons hate him for the wrong he hath done

(By his brothers meanes), the Nobles for his sonne.

Famine spreads through the land, the people die;

Yet he lives senselesse of their miserie.

Never were subjects more mislead by any,

Nor ever Soveraigne hated by so many.

But, _Constantine_, to thee I cast an eye;

Shall all our friendship end in enmitie?

Shall I, that ever held thee as my life,

Hasten thy death that I may get thy wife?

Or love or friendship, whether shall exceed,

Ile explaine your vertue in this following deed.

[_Exit_.

[SCENE 3.]

_Enter Valentia, Montano, and Vandermas_.

_Val_. Have you the instruments I gave in charge.

_Vand_. Wee have.

_Val_. And resolution fitting for the purpose?

_Mon_. All things are ready, with our faithfull hearts.

_Val_. And she that undertakes so great an act

As I intend, had need of faithfull hearts

This is the prison, and the jaylor comes

In happy time: where's trayterous _Fredericke_?

_Enter Jaylor_.

_Jaylor_. What is your highnesse pleasure with the Prince?

_Val_. Looke there, if you can reade.

_Jai_. O heavenly God,

What doe I read? a warrant for his death?

_Valen_. Resigne your keyes, goe weepe a dirge or twaine

But make no clamour with your lamentation.

_Jay_. I dare not prophesie what my soule feares,

Yet Ile lament his tragedie in teares. [_Exit_.

_Valen_. Oft have I seene a Nobleman arraign'd

By mighty Lords, the pillars of the land,

Some of which number, his inclined friends,

Have wept, yet past the verdict of his death:

So fares it with the Prince. Were I his jaylor,

And so affected unto _Fredericks_ life,

The fearfull'st tyrant nor the cruell'st plagues

That ever lighted on tormented soules,

Should make me yeeld my prisoner to their hands.

_Mon_. Madam, he knowes his duty, and performes it.

_Valen_. Setting aside all dutie, I would die

Ere like a woman weepe a tragedie;

Tis basenesse, cowardize. Dutie! O slave,

Had I a friend, I'de dye in my friends grave.

But it sorts well for us; Hindes will be Hindes,

And the Ambitious tread upon such mindes.

Waite, whilest I call you, in the jaylors house.

_Mon_. We will.

[_Exeunt Van. and Mon_.

_Valen_. My Lord, Prince _Fredericke_.

_Enter Fred_.

_Fred_. Wofull _Fredericke_

Were a beseeming Epitaph for me,

The other tastes of too much soveraigntie.

What? is it you! the glory of the stewes!

_Valen_. Thy mother, _Fredericke_.

_Fred_. I detest that name,

My mother was a Dutches of true fame;

And now I thinke upon her, when she died

I was ordain'd to be indignified.

She never did incense my Princely Father

To the destruction of his loving sonne:

Oh she was vertuous, trulie naturall,

But this step-divell doth promise our fall.

_Val_. Why doest thou raile on me? I am come

To set thee free from all imprisonment.

_Fred_. By what true supersedeas but by death?

If it be so, come, strike me to the earth;

Thou needest no other weapon but thine eye;

Tis full of poyson, fixe it, and Ile die.

_Val_. Uncharitable youth, I am no serpent venom'd,

No basiliske to kill thee with my sight.

_Fre_. Then thou speak'st death, I am sorry I mistooke;

They both are fatall, theres but little choice;

The first inthral'd my father, the last me,

No deadlier swords ever us'd enemie;

My lot's the best that I dye with the sound,

But he lives dying in a death profound.

I grow too bitter, being so neere my end;

Speake quickly, boldly, what your thoughts intend.

_Valen_. Behold this warrant, you can reade it well.

_Fred_. But you the interpretation best can tell:

Speake, beautious ruine, twere great injurie

That he should reade the sentence that must dye.

_Val_. Then know in briefe 'tis your fathers pleasure.

_Fred_. His pleasure, what?

_Val_. That you must loose your life.

_Fred_. Fatall is his pleasure, 'tis to please his wife.

I prethee, tell me, didst thou ever know

A Father pleased his sonne to murder so?

For what is't else but murder at the best?

The guilt whereof will gnawe him in his brest,

Torment him living, and when I am dead

Curse thee by whose plot I was murdered?

I have seene the like example, but, O base!

Why doe I talke with one of your disgrace?

Where are the officers? I have liv'd too long,

When he that gave me life does me this wrong.

_Val_. That is thy fathers hand, thou dost not doubt?

And if thou shouldst, I have witnesse to approve it.

Yet tho it be his hand, grant to my request,

Love me and live.

_Fred_. To live so, I detest. Love thee!

_Valen_. I, love me, gentle _Fredericke_, love me.

_Fred_. Incestuous strumpet, cease.

_Val_. Oh thou dealest ill,

To render so much spleene for my good will.

_Fred_. Torment farre worse then death.

_Valen_. Ile follow thee:

Deare _Fredericke_, like thy face, be thy words faire.

_Fre_. This monstrous dealing doubles my deaths care.

_Valen_. What shall I call thee to allay this ire?

_Fred_. Why, call me son and blush at thy desire.

_Valen_. I never brought thee foorth.

_Fred_. Art thou not wife

Unto my father?

_Val_. Thinke upon thy life:

It lyes like mine, onely in gentle breath;

Or that thy father's dead, and after death

'Tis in my choice to marry whom I will.

_Fred_. Any but me.

_Valen_. O doe not thinke so ill,

Rather thinke, thou art a stranger, not his sonne;

Then 'tis no incest tho the Act be done.

Nature unto her selfe is too unkind

To buzze such scruples into _Fredericks_ minde;

Twas a device of man to avoid selfe love,

Else every pleasure in one stocke should move,

Beautie in grace part never from the kinne.

_Fred_. If thou persever as thou hast begun,

I shall forget I am my fathers sonne,

I shall forget thou art my fathers wife,

And where 'tis I must die abridge thy life.

_Valen_. Why did'st not kill me, being thy prisoner then,

But friendly didst deliver me again[212]

Unto thy father, wert not thou didst love me?

_Fred_. Beyond all sufferance, monster, thou dost move me.

'Twas for my fathers sake, not for thine owne;

That, to thy lifes losse, thou hadst throughly knowne

But that relenting nature playde her part,

To save thy blood whose losse had slaine his heart:

And it repents me not hee doth survive,

But that his fortune was so ill to wive.

Come, kill, for for that you came; shun delayes

Lest living Ile tell this to thy dispraise,

Make him to hate thee, as he hath just cause,

And like a strumpet turne thee to the lawes.

_Valen_. Good _Fredericke_.

_Fred_. Tis resolv'd on, I haue said.

_Valen_. Then fatall Ministers I craue your ayde.

_Enter Van. and Mont_.

Come, _Vandermas, Montano_, wheres your corde?

Quicklie dispatch, strangle this hatefull Lord.

Or stay: because I love him, he shall chuse

The easiest of three deaths that we may use,

The halter, poyson, or bloodshedding blade.

_Fred_. Any of them.

_Valen_. This Aconite's well made, a cup of poyson

Stuft with despatching simples, give him this,

And he shall quickly leave all earthly blisse.

There, take it, _Fredericke_, our last guift of grace;

Since thou must die, Ile have thee die apace.

_Fred_. O happie meanes, given by a trecherous hand,

To be my true guide to the heavenly land!

Death steales upon me like a silken sleepe;

Through every vaine doe leaden rivers flowe,[213]

The gentlest poyson that I ever knewe,

To work so coldly, yet to be so true.

Like to an infant patiently I goe,

Out of this vaine world, from all worldly woe;

Thankes to the meanes, tho they deserve no thankes,

My soule beginnes t'ore-flow these fleshly bankes.

My death I pardon unto her and you,

My sinnes God pardon; so vaine world adiew.

[_He falls asleep_.

_Valen_. Ha, ha, ha.

_Mon_. Hee's dead, why does your highnesse laugh?

_Valen_. Why, Lord _Montano_, that I love to see,

He that hath sav'd my life, to die for me.

But theres a riddle in this Princes death,

And Ile explaine it on this floore of earth.

Come, to his sisters execution goe,

We have varietie of joyes in woe.

I am sure, you have heard his Excellence did sweare

Both of their heads should grace a Kingly beare.

Upon a mourning hearse let him be layd;

He shalbe intombed with a wived maid.

[_Exeunt_.

_Actus Quintus_.

[SCENE 1.]

_Enter Duke, Hatto, and Alfred_.

_Duke_. Bring forth the prisoners: wher's my beauteous Dutches

That she may see the ruine of her foes?

She that upbraided her with slanderous wordes,

She that in scorne of due obedience

Hath matcht the honour of the _Saxons_ blood

Unto a beggar; let them be brought foorth,

I will not rise from this tribunal seate

Till I have seene their bodies from their heads.

_Alfred_. Here comes the Dutches with proud _Fredericks_ hearse.

_Enter, Valentia, Montano, Vandermas, with others,

bearing the hearse, with Fredericke on, covered

with a black robe_.

_Duke_. So, set it downe: why have you honored it

With such a sable coverture? A traytor,

Deserves no cloth of sorrow: set it downe,

And let our other offspring be brought foorth.

My beauteous, lovely, and admired love,

Come, sit by us in an imperiall chayre,

And grace this state throne with a state more fayre.

_Valen_. My gracious Lord, I hope your Excellence

Will not be so forgetfull of your honour,

Prove so unnaturall to your loving daughter

As to bereave her of her life

Because she hath wedded basely gainst your will.

Though _Fredericke_ dyed deservedly, yet shee

May by her loves death clear her indignitie.

_Duke_. She and her love we have sentenced to die,

Not for her marriage onely, tho that deede

Crownes the contempt with a deserved death,

But chiefly for she raild against thy worth,

Upbraided thee with tearmes so monstrous base

That nought but death can cleare the great disgrace.

How often shall I charge they be brought foorth?

Were my heart guilty of a crime so vilde,

I'de rend it forth, then much more kill my childe.

_Val_. O, that this love may last! 'tis sprung so hie,

Like flowers at full growth that grow to die.

_Enter Julia, with a vaile over her head, Otho with

another, with Officers_.

_Duke_. What means these sable vailes upon their faces?

_Val_. In signe they sorrow for your high displeasure.

For since the houre they were imprisoned,

They have liv'd like strangers, hood-winkt together.

You may atchieve great fame, victorious Lord,

To save the lives of two such innocents.

_Duke_. Tis pretty in thee, my soule lov'd Dutchesse,

To make this Princely motion for thy foes.

Let it suffice, the'are traitors to the state,

Confederators with those that sought my life,

A kinne to _Fredericke_, that presumptious boy,

That durst beare armes against his naturall father:

Are they more deare then he? off with their vailes.

_Mon_. O yet be mercifull unto your daughter.

_Duke_. You make me mad, headsman; dispatch I say,

They are doom'd to die, and this the latest day.

_Otho_. Then let him strike, who ever traitors be,

I am sure no treason lives in her or me.

_Duke_. How now, whats here? _Otho_ and _Julia_!

Am I deluded? where is _Euphrata_,

And that audacious traitor _Constantine_?

_Otho_. Why, fled.

_Duke_. To whom?

_Otho_. To safetie, here was none.

I can resolve you of the circumstance:

Betwixt the noble _Constantine_ and I,--

Noble I call him for his virtuous minde--

There was a league of love so strongly made

That time wants houres, and occasion cause,

To violate the contract of our hearts.

Yet on my part the breach did first appeare:

He brought me to behold his beauteous love

The faire _Euphrata_; her Angel sight

Begate in me the fire of private love:

I that before did like her for my friend,

Now to deceive him, sought her for my selfe;

But my device was knowne unto my friend,

And worthilie he banisht me his sight.

_Duke_. Whats this to their destruction? seeke them forth.

_Otho_. They are far enough from suffering such a death.

I, well considering my unfriendly part,

Bethought me how to reconcile my self

Unto my hearts endeared _Constantine_;

And seeing him carried to the prison, we

Followed, and found meanes for their libertie.

_Duke_. Are they escapt then?

_Otho_. Both, in our disguise,

And we stand here to act their tragedies.

If they have done amisse, on us

Impose the Law.

_Julia_. O let our suites prevaile,

I ask to dye for my deare Ladies sake.

_Otho_. I for my friend.

_Duke_. This friendly part doth make

My heart to bleede within me, and my minde

Much perplext that I have beene so unkind.

What second funerall march is that I heare?

_Enter Rainaldo and Alberto, like schollers, grieving

before the Beare, others following them with bodies of

Euphrata and Constantine covered with blacke_.

_Alberto_. Health to this presence, though the newes

Impairing health I bring unto this presence;

The bodies of the drowned _Constantine_

And the faire _Euphrata_, behold them both.

_Duke_. Of drowned _Constantine_ and _Euphrata_!

Declare the manner, and with killing words

Temper thy words, that it may wound my life.

_Albert_. Passing the _Rhine_, bordering upon the tower,

From whence, it seemes they lately had escapt,

By an unskilfull Guide their gundelet[214]

Encountred with an other, and the shocke

Drown'd both the vessayles, and their haplesse lives.

Their bodies hardly were recoverèd;[215]

But, knowne, we brought them to your excellence

As to a father, that should mourne for them.

_Duke_. Unto a tyrant, doe not call me father,

For I have beene no father to their lives.

The barbarous Canniball, that never knew

The naturall touch of humane beauty,

Would have beene farre more mercifull then I.

Oh tyrannic, the overthrow of Crownes,

Kingdomes subversion, and the deaths of Kings!

Loe here a piteous object so compleate

With thy intestine and destroying fruite,

That it will strike thee dead! oh _Euphrata_,

Oh princely _Fredericke_, never deare to me

Till now, in you I see my misery.

My sonne, my daughter, vertuous _Constantine_!

_Hat_. What meanes this griefe, my Lord? these are the traytors

That you in justice sentenced to dye.

_Alfred_. A trecherous sonne and a rebellious daughter.

_Valen_. Those that did seeke to take away your life.

_Mon_. Bereave you of your Crownes prerogative.

_Duke_. Hence from my sight, blood-thirsty Counsellors!

They never sought my life, but you have sought it.

Vertuous _Alberto_ and _Rinaldo_,

Had I given eare to them and to my sonne,

My joyes had flourished, that now are done.

_Valen_. Yet for my sake allay this discontent.

_Duke_. Tis for thy sake, thou vilde notorious woman,

That I have past the limits of a man,

The bonds of nature.

'Twas thy bewitching eye, thy Syrens voice,

That throwes me upon millions of disgrace,

Ile have thee tortur'd on the Racke,

Plucke out those basiliske enchaunting eyes,

Teare thee to death with Pincers burning hot,

Except thou giue me the departed lives

Of my deare childeren.

_Valen_. What, am I a Goddesse

That I should fetch their flying soules from heaven

And breath them once more in their clay cold bodies?

_Duke_. Thou art a witch, a damn'd sorceresse,

No goddesse, but the goddesse of blacke hell,

And all those devils thy followers.

What makes thou, on the earth, to murder men?

Will not my sonnes and daughters timelesse[216] lives,

Taken away in prime of their fresh youth,

Serve to suffice thee?

_Valen_. O, you are mad, my Lord.

_Duke_. How can I choose,

And such a foule _Erynnis_ gase on me,

Such furious legions circle me about,

And my slaine Sonne and Daughters fire brands

Lying so neere me, to torment my soule?

Extremitie of all extremities:

Take pitty on the wandering sense of mine

Or it will breake the prison of my soule

And like to wild fire fly about the world,

Till they have no abiding in the world.

I faint, I dye, my sorrowes are so great,

Oh mortalitie, renounce thy seate. [_He fals down_.

_Valen_. The Duke, I feare, is slaine with extreame griefe.

I that had power, to kill him, will assay henceforth

My utmost industry to save his life.

Looke up my Lord, 'tis not _Valentias_ voice,

That Courtezan that hath betray'd thy honour,

Murder'd thy childeren, and almost slaine thee:

I am thy sonne, I am Prince _Fredericke_;

If thou hast any liking for that name,

Looke on my face, I come to comfort thee.

_Duke_. The name of _Fredericke_ is like Hermes wande

Able to charme and uncharme sorrowfull men.

Who nam'd _Fredericke_?

_Valen_. I pronounc't his name,

That have the power to give thee thy lost Sonne,

Had I like virtue to restore the other.

Behold my Lord, behold thy headlesse Sonne

Blest with a head, the late deceased living;

As yet not fully waken'd from the sleepe,

My drowsie potion kindled in his braine,

But much about this houre the power should cease;

And see, he wakes.

_Duke_. O happinesse, tis hee.

_Valen_. Imbrace him then, but ne're more imbrace me.

_Fred_. Where am I, in what dungeon, wheres my grave?

Was I not dead, or dreamt I was dead?

This am I sure, that I was poisoned.[217]

_Duke_. Thou art deceiv'd, my Sonne, but this deceit

Is worth commendations; thanke my Dutchesse,

Her discretion reedified thy life,

But she hath prov'd her selfe a gracious wife.

_Fred_. She tempt[ed] me to lust; wast in my grave?

_Valen_. 'Twas but to try thy faith unto thy father:

Let it suffice, his hand was at thy death

But twas my mercie that proclaim'd thy breath.

_Fred_. To heaven and you, I render worthy thankes.

_Duke_. O liv'd my _Euphrata_ and _Constantine_,

How gladly would I all my griefe resigne.

_Albert_. On that condition, and with this besides,

That you be pleas'd to pardon us and them,

We doe referre our persons to your mercie.

_Duke_. My daughter, my deare sonne in law,

Vertuous _Alberto_? then, my friend,

My joyes are at the highest, make this plaine

How these sav'd drownd, as _Fredericke_ has bin slaine.

_Albert_. Presuming on the example of these friends,

And know we are all actors in this plot

Boldly presented your presence, with this minde,

If pardoning them your grace would pardon us;

If otherwise, this was the joy of either,

That death's lesse painefull when friends die together.

_Duke_. We doe receive you all into our favour,

And my faire Dutchesse; my unkind divorce

Shall be confounded with a second marriage,

I here receive thee once more as my wife.

_Val_. You have your childeren, I have paid that debt,

You have divorc'd me, therefore I am free,

And henceforth I will be at libertie.

_Duke_. Theres no divorce can part thee from thy Lord.

_Valen_. Like to unkindnesse there is no divorce,

I will no more be won unto your bed,

But take some course to lament my life mislead.

_Duke_. Canst thou live better then in sacred wedlock?

_Valen_. Wedlocke to me is unpleasing, since my Lord

Hath broke the band of marriage with unkindnesse.

_Duke_. Intreate her, children, _Fredericke, Euphrata_,

Let me not loose the essence of my soule.

_Fred_. Divine _Valentia_, mirrour of thy sexe,

The pride of true reclaim'd incontinence,

Honour of the dishonoring, yeeld I pray,

And be mercifull, pitty my fathers smart,

Since thy last thraldome hath neare cleft his heart.

_Euph_. 'Twas for his children that his spleene did rise,

Anger a torture haunting the most wise.

_Valen_. O no I am a murderesse, an _Erinnis_,

A fury sent from _Limbo_ to affright

Legions of people with my horrid sight.

_Hat_. What doe you meane? be won by their intreaties.

_Alfred_. 'Tis madnesse in you to be thus perverse.

_Val_. Who ever speaks, base wretches, be you dumb;

You are the catterpillers of the state,

By your bad dealings he is unfortunate.

Thou, honorable, true, beloved Lord,

Hearken to me, and by thy antient love,

I charge thee, banish these realme-sucking slaves,

That build their pallace upon poore mens graves.

O those are they that have wrong'd both you and me,

Made this blest land a land of miserie;

And since, by too much loving, your grace hath falne

Into a generall hating of your subjects,

Redeeme your lost estate with better dayes;

So shall you merit never dying praise,

So shall you gaine lives quietnesse on earth,

And after death a new celestiall birth.

_Duke_. Unto thy wisedome I referre their doomes,

My selfe, my Dukedome, and my crowne.

Oh were there anything of higher rate,

That unto [t]hee I'de wholly consecrate.

_Val_. This kind surrender shewes you are a Prince,

Worthy to be an Angell in the world

Of immortalitie,

Which these cursed creatures never can attaine.

But that this world may know how much I hate

This cruell, base oppression of the poore,

First, I enjoyne you for the wrongs you have done,

Make restitution; and because your goods

Are not sufficient so to satisfie,

I doe condemn your bodies to the Mynes,

Where live like golden drudges all your lives,

In digging of the mettall you best love:

Death is your due, but for your noble race

This gentle sentence I impose on you:

The Duke succeeding shall behold it done.

_Duke_. Who's that, my love?

_Valen_. Kind _Fredericke_, your sonne:

The interest that your grace hath given to me,

I freely doe impart.

_Duke_. We doe agree,

To what my Dutchesse please.

_Valen_. The state is thine,

Thy Uncles sentence, _Fredericke_, shall be mine.

_Fred_. Beare them away, what you have said shall stand,

Whilst I have interest in this new given land.

_Hat_. We doe receive our judgements, with a curse.

_Valen_. Learne to pray better, or it shall be worse:

Lords, see those wormes of kingdomes be destroyed.

And now, to give a period to my speeche

I doe intreate your grace, if that your love

Be not growne colde, but that your heart desires

The true societie of a chaste wife,

Be pleas'd to undergoe a further doome.

Wee haue liv'd too lightly, we have spent our dayes,

Which should be dedicated to our God,

In soule destroying pleasure, and our sloth

Hath drawne upon the Realme a world of plagues.[218]

Therefore hereafter let us live together

In some removed cell or hermitage,

Unto the which poore travellers mislead

May have direction and reliefe of wants.

_Duke_. A hermetary life is better then a kingdome,

So my _Valentia_ beare me company.

_Valen_. If my dread Lord will for my sake endure

So strickt a calling, my bewitching haires

Shall be made napkins to dry up the teares

That true repentance wringeth from our hearts;

Our sinnes we'l number with a thousand sighes,

Fasting shall be the Steward of our Feast,

Continuall prayer in stead of costly cates,

And the remainder of our life a schoole

To learne new lessons for the land of heaven.

The will, where power is wanting, is good payment;

Grace doth reject no thought, tho' nere so small,

So it be good; our God is kind to all.

Come, my deare Lord, this is a course more kind;

No life like us that have a heavenly mind.

_Mon_. O let me be a servant in that life.

_Valen_. With all my heart, a Partner let him be

There's small ambition in humility.

_Duke_. _Fredericke_, farewell, deare _Euphrata_, adue;

Remember us in prayer, as we will you.

[_Exeunt D. & D_

_Fred_. A happy change: would all that step awry

Would take like course in seeking pietie.

_Otho_. Two humble suites I crave of my best friend:

First, pardon for my rashnesse in your love,

Next this most loyall Virgin for my wife.

_Con_. With all my heart, if _Julia_ be pleas'd.

_Julia_. I have no power to disobey your grant.

_Con_. Then she is yours.

_Fred_. _Alberto_,

The offices belonging to our Uncles

We doe derive to you for your good service

In our late warres, and in our sisters love.

And now set forwards: Lords, let us be gone

To solemnize two mariages in one.

_The Epilogue.

Encouragement unto the valiant

Is like a golden spurre upon the heele

Of a young Knight, like to a wreath of Bay

To a good Poet; like a sparkeling Crowne,

Unto a Kings Son. Honour and renowne

Is the efficient and persevering cause

Of every well deserved action.

Take away some recorde, encouragement,

And the World's like a_ Chaos, _all delight

Buried unborne in everlasting night.

Even so it fares with us, and with the rest

Of the same facultie, all meerely nothing:

Without your favour every labour dyes,

Save such whose second springs comes from your eyes.

Extend your beames of love to us at full,

As the Sunne does unto the Easterne clime,

And England may bring forth like India

As costly spice, as orientall Jems.

The earth's all one, the heate refines the moulde,

And favour makes the poorest ground yielde gold_.

FINIS.

INTRODUCTION TO EVERIE WOMAN IN HER HUMOR.

This old "comical satire" has come down in a very corrupt state. A sadly

tattered appearance is presented by the metrical passages. I have

ventured to patch only a few of the many rents in the old coat of 1609.

The anonymous playwright owes much more than the title of the play to

Ben Jonson. Acutus, overflowing with bitter and tedious moralising, is

evidently modelled on Macilente in _Every Man Out of His Humour_. The

very dog--Getica's dog--was suggested by Puntarvolo's dog. Indeed,

throughout the play we are constantly reminded of _Every Man Out of His

Humour_; but the unknown writer had some inventiveness of his own, and

was not a mere copyist. The jolly fat host, with his cheery cry "merry

hearts live long," is pleasant company; and his wife, the hard-working

hostess, constantly repining at her lot, yet seemingly not dissatisfied

at heart, has the appearance of being a faithful transcript from life.

Cornutus (the hen-pecked citizen) and his gadding wife are familiar

figures, but not the less welcome on that account. Getica's anxiety at

the loss of her dog is amusingly depicted. In fact, the whole play would

be tolerable, if the moralising were cut out and the text were free from

corruptions.

EVERIE Woman in her Humor.

LONDON Printed by E.A. for _Thomas Archer_, and are to be solde at his

shop in the _Popes-head-Pallace_, neere the Royall Exchange. 1609.

_Everie Woman in her_

Humor.

_Enter Flavia as a Prologue_.

Gentles of both sexes and all sortes, I am sent to bid yee welcome; I

am but instead of a Prologue, for a she-prologue[219] is as rare as an

Usurers Almes, _non reperitur in usu_; and the rather I come woman

because men are apt to take kindelye any kinde thing at a womans hand;

and wee poore foules are but too kinde if wee be kindely intreated,

marry otherwise, there I make my _Aposiopesis_. The Author hath indeede

made me an honest merrye wench one of his humorists, yet I am so much

beholding to him, I cannot get mee a husband in his play that's worthe

the having, unlesse I be better halfe of the sutor my selfe; and having

imposed this audacity on me, he sends me hither first for exercise. I

come among ye all, these are the Contentes: that you would heare with

patience, judge with lenity, and correct with smiles; for the which our

endeavour[220] shall shew it selfe, like a tall fellow in action; if we

shall joyne hands, a bargaine.

As a lowely earnest, I give this curtesie before,

And in conceite I give ye twenty more.

[ACT THE FIRST.

_Scene_ 1.]

_Enter Accutus and Graccus_.

_Gra_. Nay but, _Accutus_, prethee what mis-shapen vizard of Melancholly

hast thou mask't thy selfe in? Thou lookst as thou wer't changing thy

religion; what? is there a breach in thy Faith? come declare, and let me

set thy [my?] wits on worke to amend it.

_Acut_. Ha, ha, ha!

_Gra_. Prettie; a man's well advisd to offer good counsell, and be

laught at for his labour: we shall shortly have no counsellors, but

Physitians; I spend my breath to thee, and thou answerest me some half

an houre after in a sem[i]breve, or like to a Sexton, with a Sobeit or

Amen.

_Acu_. Condemn my Stars then!

_Grac_. I should wrong am then, as thou dost with a false inditment. I

know it took not beeing at thy birth: thou hast been merrie, thou hast

sounded hoopes, swallowed whiffes, walkt late, worn favours, seene

whoresons; thou canst feele and understand, come thou hast bene a

sinner, unloade, discharge, untune, confesse, is _Venus_ dominatrix? art

not in love?

_Acut_. Yes, I love God and my neighbors.

_Grac_. Then either for God's sake or thy Neighbors, or both, be smothe,

and participate; ist not some underlayer, some she Cammell, that will

beare as much of her belly as three beastes on their backes? some

Lanthorne-maker? Ile holde thy head; come, up with't!

_Acut_. Prethee, I hate none, but heaven hate me if I be in love with

any.

_Grac_. Off with these clogs; then break prison and get out of this

melancholly Gaole. Harke how the generall noise doth welcome from the

_Parthian_ wars; each spirit's jocund, fraught with glee, then wrong not

thine with this dull meditation.

_Accut_. Oh! how doe they then wrong my meditation! my thoughts are with

themselues at a counsell; til with noise, and thou with continuall

talke, hast driven them to a _nonplus_.

_Gra_. Then make me of thy counsell, and take my advice, for ile take no

denyall; Ile not leave thee til the next new Almanackes be out of date;

let him threaten the sharpest weather he can in Saint _Swithin_ week, or

it snow on our Ladies face, ile not budge, ile be thy mid-wife til thou

beest delivered of this passion.

_Accut_. Partake then, and give me the beleefe; thinkst thou or knowst

thou any of this opinion, that that mooving marish element, that swels

and swages as it please the Moone, to be in bignes equall to that solid

lump that brings us up?

_Gra_. I was sure that thou wer't beyond the _Antipodes_; faith, I am of

that faith I was brought up in, I have heard my Father say, and i'me

sure, his Recordes came from his Father, that Land and Sea are in nature

thus much alike; the owne [_sic_] growes by the Sunne, the other by the

Moone, both by God's blessing, and the Sea rather the greater; and so

thinke I.

_Acut_. Good; there we have a farther scope, and holde the sea can (as a

looking glasse) answer with a meere simile[221] any mooving shape uppon

the earth.

_Gra_. Nay, that's most certaine, I have heard of Sea-horses,

Sea-calves, and Sea-monsters.

_Acut_. Oh, they are monstrous, madde, merrie, wenches, and they are

monsters.

_Grac_.[222] They call them Sea-maides, or Mermaides, singing sweetelye,

but none dares trust them; and are verie like our Land-wenches,

devouring Serpents, from the middle downeward.

_Acut_. Thou hast even given me satisfaction, but hast thou this by

proofe?

_Grac_. Not by my travels (so God helpe me): marrie, ile bring ye fortie

Saylers, will sweare they have seene them.

_Acut_. In truth!

_Grac_. In truth or otherwise.

_Acut_. Faith they are not unlike our land-monsters, else why should

this _Maximilian_ Lord, for whom these shoots [_sic_] and noises befits

thus, forsake his honours to sing a Lullabye?

These seeming Saints, alluring evils,

That make earth _Erebus_, and mortals devils--

_Gra_. Come, thou art Sea-sicke, and will not be well at ease, til thou

hast tane a vomit: up with 't.

_Acu_. Why, ifaith, I must; I can not soothe the World

With velvet words and oyly flatteries,

And kiss the sweatie feet of magnitude

To purchace smiles or a deade mans office;

I cannot holde to see a rib of man,

A moytie of it selfe, commaund the whole;

Bafful and bend to muliebritie.

O[223] female scandal! observe, doe but observe:

Heere one walks ore-growne with weeds of pride,

The earth wants shape to apply a simile,

A body prisoned up with walles of wyer,

With bones of whales; somewhat allyed to fish,

But from the wast declining, more loose doth hang

Then her wanton dangling lascivious locke

Thats whirld and blowne with everie lustfull breath;

Her necke in chaines, all naked lyes her brest,

Her body lighter than the feathered Crest.

Another powtes, and scoules, and hangs the lip,

Even as the banckrout[224] credit of her husband

Cannot equal her with honors liverie.

What does she care if, for to deck her brave,

Hee's carryed from the Gate-house to his grave!

Another in a rayling pulppet key,

Drawes through her nose the accent of her voice,

And in the presence of her good-man Goate

Cries 'fye, now fye, uppon these wicked men

That use such beastly and inhumane talke,'

When being in private all her studies warne

To make him enter into _Capricorn_.

Another as she goes treads a _Canarie_[225] pace,

Jets it so fine and minces so demure

As mistris Bride upon her marriage day;

Her heels are Corke, her body Atlas,

Her Beautie bought, her soule an Atomus.

Another, with a spleene-devoured face,

Her eies as hollow as Anatomy,[226]

Her tung more venome then a Serpents sting,

Which when it wagges within her chap-faln jawes

Is noise more horrid then a cry of hounds

With open mouths pursuing of their game.

Wants she but ritch attire or costly dyet,

With her the Devill can nere live in quiet.

Yet these are weaker vessels, heaven doth knowe;

Lay on them ought but ease, you doe them wrong;

They are as weake as water and indeede as strong,

And then, like mightie ships when pellets sincke,

To them lay more men, sheele never shrinke.

[_Enter[227] Getica and Boss, with a dog_.]

_Boss_. Mistris, that face wants a fresh Glosse.

_Gent_. Prethee, dib it in well, _Bos_.

_Acut_. _Pigmaleon, Pigmaleon_, I coniure thee appeare; to worke, to

worke, make more Marble Ingles. Nature thou art a foole, Art is above

thee; _Belzebub_, paint thy face there's some will love thee.

_Boss_. Rare, Mistris, heeres a cheeke like a Camelion or a blasing

Star, you shall heere me blaze it; heere's two saucers sanguine in a

sable field pomegranet, a pure pendat ready to drop out of the stable, a

pin and web argent in hayre de Roy.

_Grac_. And a fooles head in the Crest.

_Bos_. In the Crest? oh sweete Vermilion mistris, tis pittie the

Vermilion Wormes shoulde eate thee, ile set it with pretious stones and

ye will.

_Gent_. Enough, sweete _Bosse_, throwe a little water to spurt's face

and lets away.

_Bo_. Hold up; so, sir, now away. Oh Mistris, your scantling, most

sweete mistriss, most derydent starre.

_Acut_. Then most rydent starre, faire fall ye.

_Grac_. Nay tis the Moone her self, for there's her man and her Dogge

before.

_Bosse_. I, sir, but the man is not in the moone, and my bush is before

me, _ergo_, not at my backe, _et ergo_, not moone sir.

_Gent_. What's your will sir?

_Acut_. That you would leave us.

_Boss_. Leave you! zounds, sir! we scorne their companies, come they are

still, doe not open to them, we have no Conies to catch.

[_Exeunt[228] Getica and Boss, with the dog_.

_Acut_. Away, keepe no distance, even both together,

for wit ye may be Coacht together.

What sleeke-browde Saint can see this Idiotisme,

The shape and workmanship of omnipotency

To be so blinde with drugs of beastlinesse,

That will not bend the browe and bite the lippe,

Trouble his quiet soule with venome spleene

And feare least the all over-seeer

Can without vengeance see these ignomies?

_Grac_. Why, therfore are they belooved like Sargeants

and entertained like Beggers;

Think'st thou but any honorable Gate,

But will be shut against these Butterflies?

_Acut_. Oh _Graccus_! thou beguil'st opinion:

The Gates of great men stand more wide

To entertaine a foole then _Cresus_ armes

To hug the Golden God; and faster bard

Against necessitie then _Dives_ entrance

At _Olympus_ gate.

_Enter Servulus,[229] Scillicet, Philautus and boy_.

_Servu_.[230] Fa, la, sol, lasol; Boy, a Glasse.

_Boy_. Tis but one and all, sir.

_Acut_. Angels protect us, what have we heare?

_Boy_. Ye haue a good memorie, Sir, for they are five minutes ere

windefall of your Glasse.

_Ser_. Sir, be credible, tis ballanst to be superlative politicke

custome in these houres to dwell in shallowe accoutrements, as a defence

for the abilitie of his pursse from the infringed Oath of some impudent

face, that will borrowe a gentlemans revenewes if he be vestally adornd:

Ile tell you sir by this bright Horrison--

_Scil_. A word, I pray yee, sir, ere ye go any further: Boy, my Tables.

_Boy_. Your Tables are ready, Sir, and all the men ye keep which is

indeede halfe a Boy, _Scillicet Videlicet_.

_Scil_. I pray ye let me request that oath of you.

_Serv_. A graceful enquirie, and well observ'd: Sir, my company shall

make ye copious of novelties, let your Tables befriend your memorie:

write, 'by this bright Horrison.'

_Phy_. 'Here's[231] none but only I' [_sing_]; Boy, how likest thou my

head of hayre?

_Boy_. Your Glasse may flatter ye, but truely I will not; your head is

not a hayre better than it should be.

_Phy_. Is there any scarcitie of haire, Boy?

_Boy_. Somewhat thin and yet there is more hayre than wit.[232]

_Phy_. How, Boy?

_Boy_. Then wit of man can number sir, take it i'th right sence,

I pray yee.

_Phy_. Most ingenious!

_Acu_. O muffle muffle, good _Graccus_, do not taint thy sence

With sight of these infectious animalles,

'Less[233] reason in thee have the upper hand

To governe sence, to see and shun the sight.

Here's new discovered sins, past all the rest;

Men strive to practice how to sweare the best.'

_Scil_. I have quoted it, sir; by this bright Hore, Horeson, pronounce

ye, sir?

_Serv_. Horison!

_Scil_. Horison:--the Widowes mite, sir.

_Serv_. Not for the Soldans crown, sir.

_Scil_. Indeede yee shall, by this bright horison ye shall; beleeve me,

if I sweare, I think myself beholding for I know it to be no common

oath.

_Serv_. Were it common it past not these doores; Sir, I shift my oathes,

as I wash my hands, twice in the artificial day; for in dialoguising,

tis to be observ'd, your sentences, must ironically, metaphorically, and

altogether figuratively, [be] mixt with your morning oathes.

_Scil_. Faith, tis verie true.

_Accu_. That he neither knowes what he saies nor thou understandest.

_Serv_. As for example, by this illuminate welkin.

_Scil_. Oh excellent! it shall be downe to.

_Accut_. There's another Ducket. He utters his oathes apace.

Sure this Villaine has no soule, and for gold

Heele damn his body too, hee's at peace with hell

And brings his Merchandise from thence to sell.

_Boy_. I have heere two Mistresses, but if the best were chosen out, if

_Poliphemus_ tother eye were out his choice might be as good as _Argus_

broade waking, so difficult is the difference.

_Phy_. Boy, sleepe wayward thoughts?

_Boy_. Sir.

_Phy_. Is it not now most amyable and faire?

_Boy_. Yes sir, God be praised.

_Phy_. What meanst thou, Boy?

_Boy_. The weather, sir.

_Phy_. I meane my haire and face, Boy.

_Boy_. Twere amiable if it would not alter.

_Phy_. Wherfore I often repaire it.

_Boy_. Me thinkes that should weare it the sooner.

_Phy_. Not so Boy, for to trimme the Hayer well is a rare qualitie; to

bee rarelye quallified is to be wise; apply, Boy.

_Boy_. That you are wise in trimming your hayre, Maister?

_Phy_. Right, to be wise is to be rare, for it is rare to see a wise

man.

_Boy_. True, Maister, but if youle see a foole, looke in your Glasse,

maister!

_Phy_. Goe to, I must correct you, Boy.

_Boy_. You can correct no more then is your own; I am but halfe yours to

commaund, if you steale away any parte that is not your owne you are so

farre in daunger as the striking of an other mans servant.

_Scil_.[234] By this illuminate welkin! most sincere and singular: as a

small remembrance.

_Serv_. Not for to winne the faire _Angelica_.

_Scillicet_. By this illuminate Welkin ye shall now.[235] Sir, I doe not

bestowe it, for that I thinke you have neede of it; for if you had, by

this bright Horizon, I would not give it, for I know tis no credit to

give to the poore. By this illuminate welkin I have (since I tooke upon

me this fleshie desire of a Gentleman) throwne out of a window, for a

hunts-up, when I had as leef have heard the grinding of a Mustard-Mill;

for those are thinges are heere too day, and gone to morrowe; this will

sticke by a man, and doe him credit where ere hee goes.

_Acut_. I, when the foole is clad in clay,

It will sticke sore unto thy soule for aye.

_Phy_. Signior _Scillicet_, I assure you I have discovered the most

queint and new-found device for the encounter of the Ladies at the

interview; tis in pricke-song.

_Scil_. That's excellent and rare.

_Phi_. I, for prick-song to Ladies is most pleasant and delightfull: as

thus for your congie, All hayle to my belooved; then for your departure,

sad dispaire doth drive me hence: for all must be to effect.

_Grac_. Nay, prethee raise no quarrels.

_Acut_. I can holde no longer: heare you, sir, are not you a foole? and

you an Asse? and you a knave?

_Phy_. Zoundes! an Asse?

_Scil_. A Foole?

_Ser_. A Knave, without respect?

_Acut_. I, for an Asse can beare, a Foole abide, and a Knave deserve.

_Omn_. Helpe, Helpe!

_Gra_. Prethee let's away.

_Acut_. Fooles often brings wise men to trouble,

Farewell, another time ile pay ye double.

[_Exit_.

_Enter Host, Hostesse, and Prentises_.

_Host_. Bring your Clubs out of doores. There goe in, my fine hostes,

Ile talke to the proudest; what, knaves are i'th streete, my dore is my

dore, my house is my castell, goe in dame _Helena_, let thine Host alon

with this; he that knocks at my hobby, while I have Ale in my house,

shall pay for a Surgeon: the honest shall come in, the knaves shall go

by; bring Clubs, I say.

_Scil_. Nay, sir, the heate is past, they that did it have tooke them to

their heeles, for indeed heere are of us--

_Host_. Away with your Clubs then; welcome, my brave Bullies, my Guests

shall take no wrong; but welcome, my Bullies.

_Scil_. Indeede sir, I am a man of few words, I have put up a little

bloodshed; marrie, I hope it shall be no stain to my manhoode, if I

keepe it out of my clothes.

_Host_. He shall pay for the blood-shed, my guestes shall take no wrong;

mine Host will spend his Cruse as franke as an Emperor; welcome, my

brave bullies.

_Ser_. Sir, be pacificall, the fellowe was possest with some critique

frenzie, and wee impute it to his madnes.

_Scil_. Madde! by Gods slid, if he were as madde as a weaver, I can

hardly put it up; for my blow, I care not so much, but he cald me foole;

slid, if I live till I dye, the one of us shall prove it.

_Host_. Some prophane Villaine, ile warrant him.

_Scil_. Doe you thinke I may not have an action against him?

_Host_. There's so many swaggerers; but alasse, how fel ye out?

_Scil_. By the welkin, I gave him not a foule word; first he calles me

foole, then he makes a full blowe at my body, and if, by good chance, I

had not warded it with my head, he might have spoild me.

_Enter Prentices_.

_Host_. There, there my fine fil-pots; give the word as you passe; anon,

anon, sir anon; heere and there in the twinckling, looke well at the

barre, there again my little Mercuries, froath them up to the brimme,

and fill as tis needeful; if their Pates be full of Wine let your

Pottles be three quarters; trip and goe, here and there; now, my brave

Lad, wash thy woundes with good Wine; bidde am welcom, my little Sybil;

put sugar in his hole there, I must in to my guests; sleepe soundly till

morning; Canarie is a Jewell, and a Figge for Browne-bastard.[236]

[_Exit_.

_Hostes_. Gentlemen, ye are welcom, though my husband be a little

talkative, yet truly he is an unreasonable honest man, yee shall finde

his words and his sayings all one.

_Scil_. I thinke no less, yet I would desire to enter as time and place

shall serve.

_Hostes_. Ile lead the way forsooth.

_Phy_. Nay, pray ye, Hostesse, a word. I say little, but i'me sure I

have sustained the most wrong; by this light, I had rather he had broke

my head in three places; I pray you lend me a brush, hee has put my hat

quite out of fashion.

_Host_. That shall ye sir, a brush there, hoe!

_Enter[237] Boss, with the dog_.

_Bos_. _Salve, sis salvus_. I pray yee which of you five is Hostis of

this house?

_Boy_. That's easily discernd, for foure weare breeches.

_Bos_. Nere the sooner for that, my diminitive youth, for women now

adaies weare breeches as well as men; mary, the difference lies in the

bawble.

_Hostis_. Well, sir, to open the truth, I am the Hostesse.

_Bos_. The fruit is known, by the Tree at the first view, as the Author

writes, learnedly; come _basilus manus_.[238]

_Scil_. This kissing becomes a Gentleman, ile use it sure.[239]

_Bos_. Secondly, Mistris Hostesse, I would know what lodging ye have for

my Lady and her traine.

_Hostis_. What will serve your turne, sir?

_Bos_. Ile call my selfe to account and specifie thus: my Lady and her

Dogge, that's two visible; then there's the Dogge and my Lady, thats

four invisible; then there's my Ladies dogge and I, quoth the dogge,

that's six; then theres sequence of three, viz., the Dogge, and I, and

my Lady; then there's a pair of Knaves, viz., the Dogge & my selfe & my

Lady turnd up; viz., my Lady sequence of three, a paire of Knaves and my

Lady, turn'd up to play upon:--we can have no less than five beds.

_Hostis_. Truely you must lye close together (the Servants I meane), for

I am so thrust with Guest I [c]an hardly spare so many.

_Bos_. Faith, weele lie together as close as we can; there's my Lady and

her dogge lye al together and I at the bed's feete, and theres all our

family of Love.[240]

_Hostis_. How farre is your mistris behinde?

_Bos_. The truth is the fatall sisters have cut the thred of her

Cork-shoe, & shee's stept aside in to a Coblers shop to take a true

stitch, whether I mean to send myself as a Court of Guard to conduct

her, but see, oh inconstant fortune! see where she comes, _solus_.

_Enter[241] Getica_.

_Gent_. _Bos_, you serve me well, to let me wait upon my selfe.

_Bos_. Of two evils, the least is to be chosen, I had a care of your

puppie being less then your selfe.

_Scil_. Gentlewoman, you have an excellent Ch: [sic] I have an appetite

as a man would say.

_Gent_. Whats your will, sir?

_Scil_. Truth will to light, and the truth is I have an appetite to

kisse you.

_Phil_. This point would become a Gentleman, sure; I pray, who trim'd it

so?

_Gent_. My man, forsooth.

_Phy_. Sir, I desire your acquaintance; tis excellent, rare.

_Gent_. You would have said so, had you seene it an houre since.

_Ser_. Heeres game for me! I hunt for fooles and have sprung a covey.

_Hostis_. Gentles, please you, draw neere? lead the way into the

chambers.

_Bos_. _Bos_ is the name of a thing may be seene, felt, heard, or

understood, and the nominative case goes before my Mistris the Verbe; my

mistris requires an accusative case to follow, as _usus feminae proptus

facit_.

[_Exeunt al but Hostis_.

_Hostis_. Oh fye upont, who would be an hostis, & could do otherwise?

[A] Ladie [h]as the most lascivious life, conges and kisses, the tyre,

the hood, the rebato, the loose bodyed Gowne, the pin in the haire, and

everie day change, when an Hostis must come and go at everye mans

pleasure. And what's a Lady more then another body? Wee have legs, and

hands, rowling eyes and hanging lips, sleek browes, and cherie cheeks &

other things as Ladies have, but the fashion carries it away.

_Prentices passe over_. [_Re-enter[242] Host_.]

_Host_. There, there, my little Lacky boies, againe, again, my fine

fil-pots! where is my fine Hostis? come, come, my little _Dido_, set

your corks on a creaking, my knaves are unthrifty; dance not your

Canaries heere up & down, looke about to my Guests I say.

_Hostis_. I, I have much joy, an Hostesse!

_Host_. What, abides my _Penelope_? heere stand[s] thy _Ulisses_,

ile tarry with thee still, thou shall want for no cost. Ile buy thee

a brave wistle; looke about to my Guestes, I say.

_Hostis_. I, Hostesses will bee knowne shortelye as their Signes; still

in one weather-beaten suite, as though none weare hoodes but Monkes and

Ladies, and feathers but fore-horses and Waiting Gentlewomen, or chaines

but prisoners and Courtiers; no Perywigges but Players and Pictures: but

the weakest must to the wall still.

_Host_. Tush, tush, these are toies; ile none of these Flipflaps, ile

have no soping, no puffs, nor no Cobwebs, no busks, nor bumbarrels;[243]

thou shalt weare thine own haire & fine cloath of Sheep-skins, thy

colour shall be Dowlas as white as a Lillie, ile kisse these

chop-cheries; thou shalt goe Gossip at Shrovetide; look about to my

Guests then. [_Exit_.

_Hostis_. I, twas my hard fortune to be an Hostesse; time was I might

have done other wise.

_Enter Cittizens Wife_.

_City W_. Why how now, woman, a'th olde disease still? will it never be

better? cannot a Woman finde one kinde man amongst twentie? Ah the daies

I have seen, when a Womans will was a lawe: If I had a mind to such a

thing, or such a thing, I could have had it, but twa's never better

since men were Purse-bearers.

_Hosty_. Mine is een the unnaturallist man to his Wife.

_Citie wi_. Truely, and commonly are all such fat men: ile tell thee,

Gossip, I have buried sixe, I, sixe husbands, but if I should live to

have as many more, as I know not what may happen, but sure Ide never

have such a fatte man: they be the most unweldey men; that woman[244]

shall not want a sore stomack, that's troubled with them I warrant her.

_Hosty_. And hee maintaines me heare like I knowe not what.

_City wi_. I, and what say, they are their wives head; well if he be the

head, shee's the body, and the body is to beare the head, and the body

is to beare the pursse.

_Hostis_. They cannot misse us, yet they regard us not.

_Citty wife_. Misse us! no faith, but would all women were of my minde,

they call us weaker vessels, they should finde vessels of us, but no

weake vessels, I warrant them.

_Enter[245] Prentice_.

_Pren_. Mistris, my Maister cals for ye.

_Hostis_. Goe, ile come anon, hees not so hastie to give me what I want,

I warrant ye.

[_Exit[245] Prentice_.

_City w_. No, would he were; little thinkes the husband what goes

through the wives hand, washing, wringing, and rubbing, up early, down

late, & a thousand things they looke not too.

_Hostis_. And yet they must have the government of all.

_City w_. And great reason they have for it, but a wise man will put in

a Woman's hand: what sheele save that hee spends.

_Hostis_. You have a pretty Ruffe, how deepe is it?

_City w_. Nay, this is but shallowe, marrie I have a Ruffe is a quarter

deepe, measured by the yard.

_Hostis_. Indeede, by the yard.

_City w_. By the standard: you have a pretty set too, how big is the

steele you set it with?

_Hostis_. As bigge as a reasonable sufficient--

_Enter Prentice_.

_Pren_. Mistris, my Maister would desire you to come in.

_Citty w_. What? she shall not come yet: if you lay down the bucklers,

you lose the victorie.

_Hostis_. By my troth, I must goe, we shall have such a coyle else.

_Cittie w_. A coyle! why, have you not a tongue in your head? faith if

ye win not all at that weapon, yee are not worthy to be a woman. You

heare not the news abroade?

_Hostis_. No: what newes?

_City W_. No, I warrant ye, you never come abroad; this is to be

troubled with a fatte man, he never comes abroad himself nor suffers his

wife out of his sight: yee shall ever have a fatte Host either on his

bench at the dore or in his chair at the chimney; & there he spits and

spaules a roome like twentie Tobacco-takers. Oh! fye on them, beasts!

_Hostis_. I prethee, what newes?

_Citty w_. Oh! woman, the most hardfavoured newes, and without all

conscience: they say theres a statute made, any woman that buries her

husband is not to marrie againe of two monthes after.

_Hostis_. A tedious time, by Lady; a month were enough.

_Cittie w_. I, halfe a month; winter nights are long and colde. Ile tell

ye, I have buried sixe, and thank my good fortune I ever knewe the next

ere the other was in his winding sheete.

_Pre_. Mistris, my maister is angrie, and the Guests cal for their

Hostesse.

_Hostis_. Goe, I come: Gossip, when shall I see you agen?

_Citty w_. Nay, when shall I see you abroad? sildome, i'me sure.

_Hostis_. I must needes away; God buy you, Gossip.

_Cittie w_. God buy ye; Gods so, I have forgot wherefore I came: a word

ere you goe, the party yee wott on commends him unto ye, he that met the

other party in the white felt, the yellow scarf, and the round

_Venetian_,[246] when the other party kis't you, and I broake the jest

on him, when hee said kisses kindeles Coules and love searches.

_Hostis_. Oh! I remember him, yes faith, hee's prettie well set; hee

ha's the right trick with the tongue in his kisse, and hee dances

reasonably comely, but he fals heavie.

_Citty w_. He savours of a kinde of Gallant, but not of a Courtyer.

_Hostis_. Well weele have a night out, god be with ye, Gossip.

_Cittie wife_. God buy ye.

[_Exeunt_.

[ACT THE SECOND.

_Scene 1_.]

_Enter Lentulus and Tulley_.

_Lentu_. Not yours nor her owne, _Terentia_.--Yours in modestie, _Flavia_.

See, _Tulley_, what an active passive love hath plaide;

I love and am again beloved, but at the shrine

Where I do offer up my Cordiall sacrifice,

I am returnd with peremptorie scorne;

And where I stand but as a gazer, viewing

All alike, I am pursude

With violent passions, a speaking eye

Bindes favours and now discovering lines.[247]

Thy counsell now, deere friend; for at thy direction

Stands my thrall or freedome.

_Tul_. Oh my Lord, affection is unlimited,

Daring all dangers, having no tipe nor figure,

Beyond all arte.

Then tye not that (Great Lord,) to _Tullies_ awe;

Fancy forswears all reason, love all lawe.

_Lent_. How well thy power can shun that which

I followe with obedience. Too true yfaith;

Thou mightst as well put out the eie of day,

Or cover sinne from heaven, or to erect

A towre of sand on the uncertain surge,

Or any thing that were more inficient,

Then to remoove one doting thought of mine

From her disdain. Thy aide, deere _Tulley_,

Be thou an Orratour for _Lentulus_,

My tongue stands tun[è]d to a harsher method;

Breath in her eares, those Organs of receite,

A quintessence distild of honny words,

And charme with a beguiling lullabye

Her free consent to thine and my request:

Which done, thats done which is my sole delight,

Which done, thats done that I can never quite.

_Tull_. All which to me are problematique mines,

Obscurde inigmaes, and to my studies

Incognite Language; yet, if my powers

Have power to cloath my tongue in love,

Ile be a Lover and in love so pleade

As if that _Tully_ loved _Terentia_.

_Lent_. Thanks, sweete _Cicero_;

This day we dine with olde _Flaminius_,

The forward Father of my Aukeward love.

His willing minde doth strive to make the peace

Betwixt our discord thoughts; his free consent

Is given to _Lentulus_; there, _Tulley_, take on holde,

And, when a Sunne of thy intent shines fayre,

Onset loves fort with polliticke assaults

And conquer; conquest in obtaining that

Where victors are repulsed. But see! our talke

Hath over-tane our way; see, olde _Flaminius_

Comes to welcome us.

With him a looke like[248] the bright orient verge

At the uprising of _Auroraes_ shine.

_Enter Flaminius, Terentia, and Flavia_.

_Flam_. And, my good Lorde, y'are happily met. Heartily welcome; young

_Tullie_, welcome to; yee come wel to ease my charge, these Ladies find

fault with their Guardian, I goe too softly for them: old blood is

stiffe, & young Ladies will not beare with age; I resigne, I resigne, to

you that followe.

_Lent_. If they admit us for their Guardian,

Weele dare dangers ere we part from them.

_Flam_. Why well saide, my Lords, Soldiers will not flye indeede; I have

seene the day, I could have crackt a tree of yew, made my bowstring

whisper in mine eare in[249] the twang, tost my pike lustilye. Tis since

the siedge of _Parthia_: bith-'mas a great while; I was lustie then at

the service was done there, yet I love the discourse. Come my Lord, I

chuse your companye, leave _Tulley_ to the Ladies; he can tell them

tales of _Venus_ and _Adonis_ and that best pleaseth them. Now I must

heere of raps and blowes, and Bils and Guns, and swords and bucklers. I

loved it once; come, our Cookes are backeward, discourse will beget

stomacks; y'are like to tarrie long for leane Cates. [_Exit_.

_Lent_. Now, gentle _Tulley_, advocate my suite;

Her fore-amazing person makes me mute.

_Cicero_. He beare these Ladies company if they

Shall deeme acceptance. [_Exit_.

_Teren_. With interest of thankes to Cicero.

_Flav_. Faith, I like not this ods of female, an equallitie were better:

yet of both twere fitter the woman should undergoe the oddes. I had

rather a said three men to one woman, then two women to one man. Heeres

_Tulley_ addrest to _Terentia, Terentia_ drawing neere to _Tulley_;

her's smal comfot [_sic_] left for _Flavia_. Wel, gentles, ile leave ye

to the Goddesse. So ho! my Lords, take me with ye.

_Teren_. Nay stay, good _Flavia_. Youle not loose the sight of

_Lentulus_.

_Fla_. Nor you of _Tulley_; come, if you tel, ile blab.

_Cice_. But, sweete Lady, _Tulley_ is not heere.

_Fla_. But _Cicero_ is, his neere friend, thats as good.

_Cice_. He was, Lady, till hee changed his habit by putting on the

office of an unskillful Servingman, intending to garde _Terentia_ to her

father's house.

_Fla_. Then _Flavia_ must gard her self; wel use good words and good

action, and stalke well before your Ladie; she's kinde, yfaith, and a

little thing will please her.

_Ter_. Will it please _Flavia_ to partake?

_Fla_. Oh fye! twere an injurie I could [not] brook myself, therefore

ile leave ye; but be breefe, stand not on pointes, cut them all first; &

if ye fall to kissing, kisse not too long for feare ye kisse the post.

_Teren_. Goe to, youle still be a wagge, _Flavia_.

But what saies _Tulley_ to _Terentia_?

[_Exit_[250] _Flavia_.

_Cicero_. Lady I must maintain my former argument.

_Tullie's_ not heere but heere is _Tullies_ friend;

For, ere I speake, I must intreate you wil

Transforme poore _Tulley_ into _Lentulus_.

_Teren_. I have no power of Metamorphosing;

If _Tulley_ be not heere, you must concede,[251]

I cannot make of _Tulley Lentulus_.

_Cice_. Nor can the world make _Cicero_ so worthy.

Yet for an houre['s] discourse a Pesant's shape

May represent the person of a king;

Then in the person of the great _Lentulus_

I doe salute Sunne-bright _Terentia_.

Lady, vouchsafe a Saint-like smile on him

(From that angell forme) whose honord minde

Lies prostrate lowly at _Terentia's_ feete;

Who hath put off a Golden victors honour

And left the _Parthyan_ spoyle to _Lepido_;

Whome many Ladies have bedecked with favours

Of rich esteeme, oh proud he deignd to weare them,

Yet guiftes and givers hee did slight esteeme;

For why? the purpose of his thoughts were bent

To seek the love of faire _Terentia_.

The cho[i]ce is such as choiser cannot bee

Even with a nimble eye; his vertues through

His smile is like the Meridian Sol

Discern'd a dauncing in the burbling brook;

His frowne out-dares the Austerest face

Of warre or Tyranny to sease upon;

His shape might force the Virgine huntresse

With him for ever live a vestall life;

His minde is virtues over-matcht, yet this

And more shall dye if this and more want force

To win the love of faire _Terentia_.

Then, gentle Lady, give a gentle do[o]me;

Never was brest the Land-lord to a heart

More loving, faithful, or more loyall then is

The brest of noble--

_Teren_. _Tullie_!

_Tul_. _Lentulus_!

_Ter_. And why not _Tullie_?

_Tul_. It stands not aptly.

_Tere_. I wants a sillible.

_Tul_. It doth.

_Tere_. Then noble _Cicero_.

_Tul_. Thats too deere.

_Tere_. Gentle is as good:

Then say the best of gentle _Cicero_.

_Tul_. Good Lady, wrong not your honour so

To seate unworthy _Tully_ with your worth.

Oh looke upon the worth of _Lentulus_,

Let your faire hand be beame unto the ballance

And with a stedded peyze lift up that beame.

In th'one[252] scale put the worth of _Lentulus_,

His state, his honors, and his revenewes;

Against that heavy waite put povertie,

The poore and naked name of _Cicero_,

A partner of unregarded Orators;

Then shall you see with what celeritie

One title of his worth will soone pull up

Poore _Tullies_ dignitie.

_Tere_. Just to the height of _Terentias_ heart

Where I will keepe and Character that name,

And to that name my heart shall adde that love

That shall wey downe the worth of _Lentulus_.

_Tul_. Deare Madam.

_Tere_. Speake still, if thou wilt, but not for him;

The more thou speak'st the more augments my love,

If that thou can'st adde more to infinite;

The more thou speakest the more decreaseth his,

If thou canst take away ought from nothing;

Thinke, _Tulley_, if _Lentulus_ can love me,

So much and more _Terentia_ doth love thee.

_Tull_. Oh Madam,

_Tulley_ is poore, and poore is counted base.

_Ter_. Vertue is ritch and blots a poore disgrace.

_Tul_. _Lentulus_ is great, his frowne's my woe,

And of a friend he will become my foe.

_Ter_. As he is friend, we will intreate his love;

As he is great, his threatenings shall not make me love.

_Tul_. Your fathers graunt makes _Lentulus_ your Lord.

_Teren_. But if thereto his daughter not accord,

That graunt is cancel'd; fathers may commaund

Life before love, for life to true love's paund.

_Tul_. How will _Flaminius_ brooke my povertie?

_Ter_. Well, when _Flaminius_ see's no remedie.

Lord how woman-like are men when they are woe'd!

_Tully_, weigh me not light, nere did immodest blush

Colour these cheeckes, but ardent.

_Tully_. Silence, sweet Lady, heere comes _Flavia_.

_Enter_[253] _Flavia_.

_Fla_. Fie, Fie, how tedius ye are; yonders great looking for _Tulley_,

the old senate has put on his spectacles, and _Lentulus_ and he are

turning the leaves of a dog-hay [?], leaves of a worm-eaten Chronicle,

and they want _Tullies_ judgment.

_Tul_. About what, sweet Lady?

_Fla_. To know what yeare it was the showers of raine fell in Aprill.

_Tul_. I can resolve it by rote, Lady, twas that yeare the Cuckoo sung

in May: another token Lady; there raigned in Rome a great Tyrant that

yeare, and many Maides lost their heads for using flesh on Fish-daies.

_Fla_. And some were sacrificed as a burnt offering to the Gods of

Hospitallitie, were they not?

_Tul_. Y'are a wag, _Flavia_, but talk and you must needes have a

parting blowe.

_Flav_. No matter so we stand out and close not.

_Tull_. Or part faire at the close and too't again.

_Flav_. Nay, if we should too't againe, _Terentia_ would growe jealous.

_Tul_. Ladies, I take my leave

And my love.

_Ter_. Take heede ye sigh not, nor looke red at the table, _Tully_.

[_Exit [Tully]_.

_Flav_. Your shoe wrings you, Lady.

_Ter_. Goe to, ye are a wanton, _Flavia_.

_Fla_. How now _Terentia_, in your nine Muses?

Theres none must pleade in your case but an Orator.

_Ter_. I want one indeede Wench, but thou hast two, and the gentle

destinies may send thee three; neere blush, for smoke and the fire of

a womans love cannot bee hid. Oh a fine tongue dipt in _Helicon_! a

comedian tongue is the onely perswasive ornament to win a Lady; why his

discourse is as pleasant--

_Fla_. As how, I prethee?

_Ter_. And keepes as good decorum; his prologue with obedience to the

skirt; a rough Sceane of ciuill Warres and a clapping conclusion;

perhappes a Jigge;[254] if not, the Tragicomicall tale of _Mars_ and

_Venus_; then must she take the Tale by the end, where he defending

_Mars_, & she _Venus_, must fall from billing to byting, from byting to

blowes, to get the supremacie.

_Fla_. A good policie to praise _Cicero_,

For feare I rob you of your _Lentulus_.

_Ter_. Faith, a Souldier is not for thy[255] humor; now I crie a

Warrier; he fights stoutly in a field-bed, discharges his work sure,

under his Curtaines would I fight. But come, our Lovers melt while we

meditate; thou for thy Scholler, I for my soldier; and if we can not

please them so, weele shake off this loose habit and turn Pages to suit

their humors.

[_Exeunt_.

[Scene 2.]

_Enter Accutus and Graccus_.

_Grac_. Come, _Accutus_, discharge your follower; lets leave rubbing a

while, since the byas runs so much the wrong way. Sirra! these bowles

which we roule and turn in our lower sypher are by use made wodden

worldlings right, for every one strives who shall lye neerest the

mistris.[256]

_Ac_. They post indeed, as their nature is, in an even way, but they are

cowards, theile abide no danger, they rub at everie mole-hil; if they

tyre in going up a hill, they retire and come back againe.

_Grac_. Well let them alley, bet all, then to rest away, begone.

_Acut_.[257] S'foote _Graccus_, heeres a couple of our old gamsters. Oh!

for quick conceite to beget a jest! heeres two, that either a man must

be aquainted or quarrell with, & of two evils ile chose the latter; I

hope I make it the lesser. If I should be acquainted, the foole will

haunt me, if I quarrell I may be so blest, as to be rid of a foole.

_Grac_. I have a womans wit for a suddaine stratageme.

_Enter Scil. and Servulis_.[258]

_Scil_. No, by my troth, by this bright horrison--

_Accut_. An excellent Cuckoo, hee keepes his note in Winter.

_Scil_. I haue no appetite at all to live in the countrie any more; now,

as they say, I have got a smacke on the Cittie. Slid, I thinke (as the

proverbe goes) I was wrapt in my mother's smocke the day I was begotten,

I thank the Goddesse _Cupid_ for it. I am so favourd of the Women, my

hostes loves me execrably.

_Accut_. Good reason, fooles make good sport.

_Grac_. Sever, sever, ere wee bee discovered.

_Ser_. Sir, the respective regard of your well governed partes do

challenge a mellifluous species of enduement or contumelious estimation.

_Grac_. Gentles, God save ye, well over-taken Gallants.

_Scil_. Welcome, by the welkin.

_Grac_. This is verie pleasant weather.

_Ser_. Sir the ayre is frugall.

_Grac_. Is that Gentleman of your Company?

_Scil_. Our company sir, no, we are no companions for lame Souldiers.

_Grac_. Propper man, pittie he is so regardles. A good legge, it seemes

he has some greefe in it.

_Scil_. Nay, and he be lame, ile talke to him; there's so many lustie

knaves walkes now a daies will not sticke to give a man hard words, if

he be not disposed to charitie. Harke ye sir, I understand ye are a

propper man, and that you have a good legge.

_Accut_. And what of that, Sir?

_Scil_. What of that! slid, he answers me like a sturdie beggar

alreadie! by the five elements, or sences, I aske ye for no hurt, ile

bestowe my charitie as franke as--

_Acut_. Stoope and looke out, zounds a Gentleman cannot come by a

misfortune in service or so, but everie foole wil ride him. Take that.

[_Exit_.

_Gra_. Sirra, stay, ile combat thee in his defence.

_Serv_. Sir, be pacifical, the impotent must be lightly regarded.

_Grac_. Give me leave Gentlemen, ile follow him.

_Scil_. Nay, I pray you be malcontented, I have no great hurt, but in

revenge hee's a rascall for using me so; he may thank God, discretion

governed me, tis wel known I have always bene a man of peace; ile not

strike yee the least mouse in anger, nor hurt the poorest Conney that

goes in the street, for I know of fighting comes quarrelling, of

quarrelling comes brawling, and of brawling growes hard words, and as

the learned _puerelis_[259] writes, tis good sleeping in a whole skin.

_Grac_. Sir, your discretion shall governe me at this time. Your name, I

pray ye sir?

_Scil_. My name is signior _Scillicet_.

_Grac_. Even so sir? nay, sir, I doe not forget your Argument.

_Enter Accutus_.

_Acut_. Save ye, sir, saw ye not a Gentleman come this way even now,

somewhat hurt in one of his Legges?

_Scil_. He went by even now, sir; is he a friend of yours?

_Acu_. A deare friend, and a propper Gentleman, sir.

_Scil_. By the horison hee's a propper man indeede, he gave me the time

of day as he went by, I have a gallon of wine for him at any time. If ye

see anything in me worth Commendations, I pray ye commend me to him.

_Acut_. I will sir;--twere best you gave me good words, but ile trie ye

farther yet;--fare ye well, sir.

_Scil_. I pray you remember me to him.--You see my anger is over

already. [_Exit[260] Acutus_.

_Grac_. Would ye not strike him? lets followe.

_Scil_. Indeede ye shall not, I hate it.

_Ser_. I will not be barren of my armorie, in my future perambulation

for the lower element.

_Grac_. You are too patient in wrongs, sir.--Zoundes I know not how to

picke a quarrell.

_Serv_. Sir, the grievous youth is inwardlye possest of a supple spirit,

he can brooke impugnying, but tis adverse to my spirit if I were armed.

_Enter Accutus_.

_Accut_. Save ye, gallants, sawe ye not a fellowe come halting this way

of late?

_Scil_. Hath he done any hurt, or is hee a friend of yours?

_Acut_. Hee's a Rascall and ile maintaine him so.

_Scil_. Hee's a verie Rascall indeede, and he used mee like a knave: if

ere I meete him, I shall hardly put it up; I have it in blacke and blue

to shew heere.

_Serv_. Say, I breath defyance to his front.

_Acut_. Challenge him the field.

_Scil_. Doos't thinke heele answere me? I'l challenge him at the

pich-fork, or the Flaile, or ile wrastle a fall with him for a bloody

nose; anye weapon I have bene brought up in ile--

_Accut_. What will ye? heere he is, you minime, that will be friend with

friends and foe with foes; and you that will defie _Hercules_, and

out-brave _Mars_ and feares not the Devil; passe, bladder, ile make ye

swell.

_Scil_. By Gods-lid, if I had knowne it had bene you, I would not have

said so to your face.

[_Exeunt_.

_Accut_. Away, with your Champion, goe.

_Grac_. This was excellentlye performed, ifaith a better breathing then

a game at bowles.

_Accut_. Theile give you the good salve at any time this month, for I am

sure they have salving enough for so long.

_Grac_. I pittie the foole yfaith, but the tother Horseleach I wish his

blowes trebled. I converst with him, but a Rogue so stuft with the

lybrary of new minted[261] words, so tearing the sence, I never met

with.

_Accut_. But now we have spoilde our determinate dinner at my hostesse

of the Hobbye; we shall nowe bee knowne.

_Grac_. That holds well still, I am taken for a prooved friend, and thou

shalt be disguised, till, I have wrought a league by vertue of a pottle

of Canarie.

_Acut_. Content, mine Host shall be accessarie and ile be a serviter to

observe myracles.

_Grac_. They are good subjects for idle houres:--but soft, what second

course is entring heere?

_Enter Phy., Bos, and Boy_.

_Phy_. _For I did but kisse her; Bos_, how lik'st thou my relish?

_Bos_. Oh sir, relish but your licour, as you doe your song, you may goe

drunke to bed any day in the weeke.

_Phy_. _Sister_,[262] _awake, close not, &c_. Does my face hold colour

still?

_Bos_. I, and you would but scaviage the pavilion of your nose.

_Gra_. I, marrie, _Accutus_, how lik'st thou this Gentlewoman Gallant?

_Accut_. A good states-man, for common-wealth of Brownists; the Rogue

hates a Church like the Counter.

_Gra_. I, and if my Ladie Argentile were dead, he wold rather live upon

almes then fall to worke.

_Accut_. So he might have tolleration.--What, shal's close with them?

_Gra_. In any case, but in some mild imbrace, for if we should continue

thus rough, we should be shunned like an Appoplex.

_Accut_. Gallants, the fortune of the day runs with ye: what all at

mumchance?[263] how is't? how is't?

_Phy_. Sir, I think twas you bestowed some abuse of me tother day.

_Accu_. Which I would wipe out of your memorie

With satisfaction of a double courtesie.

_Phy_. I accept it ifaith, sir, I am not prone to anger, I assure ye the

following night knew not my anger. Your acquaintance, Signior.

_Gra_. Fye, without ceremony lets yoake this triplicity as we did in the

daies of olde, with mirth and melody.

_Phy_. I, say you? so then _Coll_[264] _her and clip her and kisse her,

too, &c_.

_Bos_. The triplicitie! heere's those has supt at an ordinarie.

_Accu_. This gallant humors.

_Gra_. But the other walkes aloofe.

_Bos_. The triplicite! heere's those has crackt glasses and drawn blood

of a Tapster.

_Gra_. The visitation of your hand, sir.

_Bos_. The Triplicitie! will colours change?

_Acut_. Sir, take no offence, I beseech ye, we gave onlye satisfaction

for an olde injurie, but in the degree of amitie your selfe sits in the

superlative.

_Bos_. No sir, but in respect.

_Gra_. What kinde is your Dogge of, sir?

_Bos_. Verie kinde to anything but his meat, that hee devours with great

alacritie.

_Grac_. Where was he bred?

_Bos_. In a Bitch.

_Gra_. What Countrie?

_Bos_. A kind of Mungrill, he will carrie but not fetch, marrie hee is

to be put to a dauncing schoole for instruction.

_Acut_. The tricke of the rope were excellent in him, & that ile teach

him, if I misse not my mark. Come, Gallants, we waste time, the first

Taverne we arrive at weel see the race of an houre-glasse.

_Phy_. Can ye a part in a Song?

_Gra_. Verie tollerably.

_Phy_. Weele have a catch then, if with sol, sol, la: Gentlemen have you

any good herbe? you have match, boy.

_Boy_. Your pipe shall want no fire sir.

_Acut_. Oh, without ceremony: now, _Graccus_, if we can but pawne their

senses in Sack and Sugar, let mee alone to pursue the sequell.

_Gra_. Follow it away.

[_Exeunt_.

[_Scene_ 3.]

_Enter Hostis, Cittizens wife, Servulus, and Scillicet_.

_Hostis_. Come, come, bring them out of the ayre: alas good hearts, what

rogorous villaine would commit with him? ile tell ye Gosip, hee's eene

as kinde an animall, he would not wrong them y'faith.

_Citty wife_. Tush, feare nothing woman, I hope to make him so again.

Alacke, alacke, how fell you out all a head?[265] Oh Butcher! are ye

hurt in another place?

_Hostis_. Did he not throw you against the stones? If he did, doe not

conceale, I dare say you gave them not a foule word.

_Scil_. By the illuminate welkin not a word till my mouth was full of

blood, and so made my words foule.

_Citty wife_. Is not this Gentleman hurt too?

_Serv_. Onelye the extravagant Artire[266] of my arme is brused.

_Cittie wi_. See, see, the extravagant of his arme is brused to. Alas,

how could ye quarrell so?

_Serv_. I will demonstrate: in the defence of the generous youth I did

appugne my adverse, let violently flie.

_Cittie wife_. Ah good hearts! would I had stood between you, when he

let flie so violently.

_Ser_. We voide of hostile armes.

_Hostis_. I, if they had had horses, they had sav'd their armes.

_Serv_. Be capable, I meane, void of armorie.

_Citty-wife_. Untill ye had armor on.

_Serv_. Had I bene accompanied, with my Toledo or morglay.[267]

_Cittie wife_. I, your Dogge or Bitch.

_Serv_. Continue, I beseech, I meane my sword, sole lye my sword.

_Cittie wife_. Or solely your sword, better a bad toole then none

at all.

_Serv_. In the concourse--

_Cittie w_. Nay, the concourse will light on him for it, I warrant.

_Serv_. I, for the tuition of my Capitall, did mount my Semisphere,

three degrees, that as a strong, & stony guard did defend my Capitall.

_Citty w_. Twas well ye kept him out, for if he had entered on your

stony Guard, he would have spoilede your Capitall.

_Serv_. In fine, being mortally assaild, he did preambulate [_sic_] or

walk off.

_Scil_. Yes, faith, he did preambulate, and walke mee finely.

_Cittie w_. Good heartes, how many were there of them?

_Serv_. About the number of seaven.

_Scil_. I, there was seaven.

_Serv_. Or eight.

_Scil_. Or eight.

_Serv_. Rather more.

_Citty w_. I, more at least, I warrant ye.

_Hostis_. Alasse ye cannot chuse but be more hurt, but ile search you

throughly, be assured.

_Citty w_. And if she cannot helpe ye fewe can; shee knowes what belongs

to a Tent,[268] or a bruse, and experience is good in those cases.

_Serv_. I have a concupiscent forme of trust in your skil, it will

malladise.

_Citty wi_. I, feare not, put both your concupisences in me for that

matter.

_Serv_. The generous will disburse coynage for satisfaction of your

metaphisicall endevour.

_Scil_. Yes, yes, I will discharge all.

_Cittie wife_. Wee make no doubt of that; come into a chamber, ye shall

lye downe awhile; perhaps youle bee stiffe anon, then you shall use your

legges, the more you strive with it the better. Alas, good hearts!

[_Exeunt_.

_Phy_. Sol, sol, la! Tapster, give attendance! Gentlemen, I hope all we

are friends, the welkin is skie colour still, and men must grow by

degrees; you must pardon me, I must sp--speak my minde.

_Grac_. The uttermost of your minde at this time cannot be offensive.

_Phy_. _The fryer was in the_--sol, sol, draw the tother quart. I hope

you are not angrie gallants; and ye come to my lodging, ye shall be

welcome; my Hostes shall bid you welcome, shee's a good wench; if I say

the word, she wil fa--fullfill it.

_Acut_. Sirra drawer, for the other thats a sleepe; let him so remaine;

for the Dog, let him be bound to a post for his appearance, till I take

order for his undooing.

_Draw_. The foole and the Dogge shall both take rest at your commaund,

Sir.

_Phy_. Gentlemen, I hope we are all friends: sol, sol, shal's have a

catch?

_Grac_. I, come, come, everie one catch a part. [_Sing_.

_Phy_. Hey good boies ifaith, now a three man's song, or the olde _downe

a downe_; well things must be as they may, fils the other quart;

muskadine,[269] with an egg is fine, there's a time for all things.

_Bonos nocthus_.[270] [_Sleepe_.

_Grac_. Good night to you sirs.

_Accut_. So now, _Graccus_, see what a polluted lumpe,

A deformed _Chaos_ of unsteddy earth

Man is, being in this ill kinde unmand seeming somthing

Bestial man, brutish animall. Well tis thus decreede,

He shall be what he seemes, that's deade.

For what in him shows life but a breathing ayre?

Which by a free constraint it self ingenders

In things without life, as twixt a pair of bellowes

We feele a forcible aire, having of it self

Force and being, no more is this breathing block

But for his use in kinde.--Give out in some bursse or congregation

Among the multitude _Philautus_[271] death.

Let all the customarie rights of funerall,

His knell or what else, be solemnly observed.

Ile take order for his winding sheete,

And further, to furnish it with further suertie,

Ile have a potion that for twentie houres

Shall quench the motion of his breath. Goe, spread,

Let me alone to effect it.

_Gra_. Ile sow it, I warrant thee; thou talkst of bursse,--I have a way

worth ten on't, ile first give it out in my Barbers shop, then at my

ordinarie, and that's as good as abroad; and as I cross _Tiber_ my

waterman shall attach it, heele send it away with the tide, then let it

come out to an Oyster wenches eare, and sheele crie it up and down the

streetes.

_Acut_. Let's first secure him from eyes, and at night he shall be

portered to our chamber; so, now away.

_Grac_. Oh a couple that would spred rarely,[272] lets give it for loves

sake.

_Enter Hostis and Cittizens wife_.

_Acut_. Call, call.

_Grac_. Hem, hem.

_Citty wife_. A pox on your hemmings, do you think we care for your

hemmings?

_Hostis_. Tis some stinking troublesome knave, I warrant ye.

_Citty wife_. Hang him, regard him not; theres hemming indeede, like a

Cat, God blesse us, with a burre in her throate.

[_Exeunt_

_Grac_. S'hart, how we are ript up for this?

_Ac_. Oh man, this hemming is the most hatefulst thing, theres not the

most publique punck,[273] nor worm-eaten bawd that can abide it, and

honestie would run madde to heare it. But come we waste time, tis now

about the mid of day; we must sowe arithmatike by the houres, that

at[274] the morrowes highth _Philautus_ awake again, at which time he

shall be on his Hearse, and all the Guestes of the Hobbye invited to

accompany his ghost, when being awake, himselfe and all shall see if

drunkenesse be not mad misterie.

_Grac_. But I prethee, practise some milder behaviour at the ordinarie,

be not al madman.

_Acut_. Push,[275] ile bee all observative, and yet ifaith I grieve to

see this double garded[276] age, all side-coate, all foole. Fye thou

keepest the sports from the marke; away, and returne. What newes is now

in progresse.

_Grac_. I have the newest. _Terentia_, Daughter to the olde Senate,

thogh _Lentulus_ left the field to come to her, yet she hath forsaken

him in the open field, and shee's for our young Oratour, _Tully_; she

has vowd by _Venus_ legge and the little God of Love, he shall be her

captaine; sheele serve under him, till death us depart,[277] and

thereto, I plight thee my troth.

_Acut_. More Ladies _Terentias_, I crie still,

That prise a saint before a Silken foole.

She that loves true learning and pomp disdaines

Treads on _Tartarus_ and _Olimpus_ gaines.

_Grac_. I, marrie, but then would learning be in colours, proud, proud;

then would not foure nobles purchase a benefice, two Sermons in a yeare.

_Accut_. I, _Graccus,_ now thou hitst the finger right

Upon the shoulder of Ingratitude.

Thou hast clapt an action of flat felony;

Now, ill betide that partiall judgement

That doomes a farmers rich adultus

To the supremacie of a Deanrie,

When needie, yet true grounded Discipline,

Is govern'd with a threed bare Vycarage.

_Grac_. I, thou speakst well of their sides that are liberally overseene

in the sciences. I take no hold on't, but were all men of thy minde,

then would everie Schoole-maister bee a Senate, and there would never

come Cobler to be Constable againe.

_Accut_. Ynough, ynough, _Graccus_, let silence seale up our secret

thoughts and libertie say,

_Virtus sola summa gloria,

Quae format homines vero honore_.

[ACT THE THIRD.

_Scene_ 1.]

_Enter Flaminius and Tully_.

_Flam_. Goe to, I say, urge no more, tis Taverne talke, for Taverners

Table talke for all the vomit of rumor. What newes, saies one? none so

new as this: _Tully_ shall be married to _Terentia_. What newes says

another? the same, the same. Whose consent have ye? not mine, I deny it.

I must know of it, ile have a hand; goe to, no more.

_Tul_. Gentle Sir,

Lay not a leaden loade of foule reproach

Upon so weake a prop; what's done is past recal.

If ought is done, unfitting to be done,

The worst is done, my life must answer it.

_Flam_. I, you shall answer it in the Senate house, the Emperor shall

knowe it. If she be my childe, I will rule her, ile bridle her, ile

curbe her, ile raine her; if she will not, let her goe, starve, begge,

hang, drawe, sinke, swimme, she gets not a doit, a deneire, ile not owne

her.

_Tul_. Reverend Sir, be more patient.

_Flam_. I am impatient, I am troubled, I am vext, I am scoft, I am

pointed at, ile not endure it, ile not abide it, ile be revenged, I wil,

of her, of you both, proud boy, wanton giglot,[278] aspyring, hautie.

Knowe your equals, shee's not for ye, if ye persist, by my holy maker,

you shall answer it, looke to it, you shall, you shall indeede.

[_Exit_[279] _Flaminus_.

_Tull_. I shall, I must, I will, I will indeede,

Even to the greatest I will answere it;

If great mens eares be ope to inocency,

If greatnesse be not partial with greatenesse,

Even to the greatest I will answere it.

Perhaps, some shallow censurer will say,

The Orator was proud, he would climbe too hie;

But heaven and truth will say the contrarie.

My greatest grief is, I have my friend betraide;

The treasons done, I, and the Traitor's free,

Yet innocent Treason needes not to flee.

His loyaltie bids me abide his frowne,

And he hath power to raise or hurle me downe.

_Enter_[280] _Terentia_.

_Tere_. What ailes my _Tully_? wherefore look'st thou sad?

What discontent hath stopped the crimson current

Which ran so cheerefully within that brow,

And makes it sullen like a standing poole?

Tell me who ist hath wrong[d] my _Cicero_?

[Say,[281] is it _Lentulus_?]

_Tul_. Oh wrong him not.

_Tere_. Who is it then, that wrongs my _Tully_ so?

What, hath _Terentia_ ought offended thee?

Doost thou recall my former promises?

Dost thou repent thee of--

_Tul_. Oh wrong me not.

_Tere_. What, hath my father done this injurie?

There, there, my thoughts accord to say tis so.

I will deny him then, hee's not my father;

Hee's not my friend will envie _Cicero_.

_Tul_. Wrong not thy self.

_Teren_. What heavie string doost thou devide[282] upon?

Wrong not him, wrong not me, wrong not thy selfe.

Where didst thou learne that dolefull mandrake's note

To kill the hearers? _Tully_, canst thou not

Indure a little danger for my love,

The fierie spleene of an angrie Father,

Who like a storme will soon consume it self?

I have indurde a thousand jarring houres

Since first he did mistrust my fancies aime,

And will indure a thousand thousand more

If life or discord either live so long.

_Tul_. The like will I for sweete _Terentia_.

Feare not, I have approoved armour on,

Will bide the brunt of popular reproach

Or whatsoever.

_Tere_. Enough, _Tully,_ we are discovered.

_Enter_[283] _Flavia_.

_Fla_. Yfaith,[284] are ye at it? what, is there never a loving teare

shed on either side? nor you? nor you? _Tullies_ [eyes] are red, come,

come, ye fooles, be more breefe. I would have buried three husbands,

before youle be married.

_Tul_. Why lives _Flavia_ a Virgin still?

_Fla_. Because, I haue vow'd virginitie til I can get a husband.

_Teren_. Why, _Flavia_, you haue many suitors.

_Flav_. Oh, I am loaden with suitors; for indeede I am faine to beare

with any of them, I have a dumbe-shewe of all their pictures, each has

sent in his severall shadow, and I swear I had rather have them then the

substance of any of them.

_Tul_. Can you not describe them in action?

_Flav_. Yes, and their action; I have one honest man of the age of

fortie five, or there about, that traverses his ground three mile everie

morning to speake to mee, and when hee is come, after the saluting

ceremony, of 'how do you, Lady,' he falles to calculating the nativitie

of the Moone, prognosticating what faire weather will follow, if it

either snow or raine; sometime with a gentle pinche by the fingar

intermixed with the volley[285] of sighes, hee falles to discoursing of

the prise of pease, and that is as pleasing to me as a stinking breath.

_Tul_. A good description.

_Fla_. Another brings Letters of commendation from the Constable of the

Parish, or the Church-warden, of his good behaviour and bringing up, how

he could write and reade written hand; further desiring that his Father

would request my Father that his Fathers Sonne might marrie my Fathers

Daughter and heele make her a joynter of a hundred pound a yeare, and

beget three or foure fooles to boote.

_Teren_. Better and better.

_Tul_.[286] _Usus promptus [sic] facit; Faemina[e] ludificantur

viros_; well, forward.

_Flav_.[287] I have another that I prise derer then the rest, a most

sweete youth, and if the wind stand with him I can smell him half a

mile ere hee come at me, indeede hee weares a Musk-cat--what call ye

it?--about him.

_Tul_. What doe you call it?

_Flav_. What ye will, but he smels better then burnt Rosemarie, as well

as a perfuming pan, and everie night after his first sleepe writes

lovesicke sonnets, railing against left handed fortune his foe,[288]

that suffers his sweet heart to frowne on him so.

_Tul_. Then it seemes you graunt him no favour.

_Flav_. Faith, I dare not venture on him, for feare he should be rotten;

give me nature, not arte.

_Tere_. Here comes Lord _Lentulus_.

_Tul_. Swift danger, now ride poaste through this passage.

_Enter_[289] _Lentulus_.

Health to your honour.

_Len_. And happines to you.

_Tul_. In[290] heaven, deere Lord, but--

_Lent_. Tush, tush, on earth; come, come, I know your suite, tis

graunted sure, what ere it be.