_Buz_. In my fleabitten Trundle bed.[52]

_Clark_. Peace, sirra.

_Hen_. About midnight I awaking,

And this _Buzzano_ too, my brother in his sleepe

Thus cryde out, "Oh, twas I that murtherd him,

This hand that killd him"!

_Gyr_. Heard you this, sirra?

_Buz_. As sure as I heare you now.

_Alq_. And you'le be sworne 'twas he that so cryde out?

_Buz_. If I were going to be hangd Ide sweare.

_Clark_. Forbeare the Court.

[_Exit Buzzano_.

_Mac_. All this is but presumption: if this be all

The shott you make against him your bullets stick

In a mud wall, or if they meete resistance

They backe rebound & fly in your owne face.

_Med_. Bring your best forces up, for these are weak ones.

_Hen_. Then here I throw my glove & challenge him

To make this good upon him: that at comming home

He first told me my father dyed in France,

Then some hours after that he was not dead

But that he left him in _Lorraine_ at _Nancy_,

Then at _Chaalons_ in _Burgundy_, & lastly

He said to _Don Fernando_ he was in _Paris_.

_Fer_. He did indeed.

_Mac_. What then?

_Hen_. Then, when in's chamber we were going to bed,

He suddenly lookd wild, catchd me by the hand

And, falling on his knees, with a pale face

And troubled conscience he confessed he killd him,

Nay, swore he basely murtherd him.

_Mac_. What say you to this?

_Alq_. Now he comes close up to you.

_Man_. He is my murtherer

For I am none, so lett my Innocence guard me.

I never spake with a distracted voice;

Nere fell to him on my knees; spake of no father,

No murtherd father. He's alive as I am,

And some foule divell stands at the fellowes elbow,

Jogging him to this mischefe. The Villaine belyes me,

And on my knees, my lord, I beg that I

And my white Innocence may tread the path

Beaten out before us by that man, my brother.

Command a case of rapiers to be sent for,

And lett me meete his daring. I know him valiant;

But I am doubly armd, both with a Courage

Fiery as his can be, and with a cause

That spitts his accusation full in the face.

_Mac_. The combate in this case cannot be granted,

And here's the reason: when a man accuses

A frend, much more a brother, for a fact

So foule as murther (murther of a father),

The Law leapes straight way to the Challenger

To take his part. Say he that doth accuse

Should be decrepitt, lame and weake, or sickly,

The other strong and lusty; thinke you a kingdome

Will hazard so a subject, when the quarrell

Is for a kingdomes right? If y'are so valiant

You then must call the law into the field

But not the man.

_Man_. I have done; let law proceed.

_Mac_. This cannot serve your turne, say he does belye you;

He stakes against your body his owne soule.

Say there is no such murther, yet the Law

Fastens on you; for any man accusd

For killing of his father may be rackd

To draw confession from him. Will you confesse?

_Man_. I cannot, must not, will not.

_Mac_. Jaylour, take & prepare him for the racke:

Wele see it done here.

_Hen_. You are righteous Judges.

_Man_. Oh villaine, villaine, villaine!

[_Exit with the Jaylour_.

_Med_. Where's the wrongd Lady?

_Alq_. Stand you still at the Barre.

You are now another man, sir; your scale turnes.

_Fernando fetches in Eleonora_.

_Mac_. Looke on the prisoner: doe you know him, Lady?

_Ele_. Would I had nere had cause to say I know him.

_Mac_. Of what doe you accuse him?

_Ele_. As the murtherer

Both of my name and honour. In the hurry,

When the Citty (they said) was ready to be taken,

I being betrothed to this young gentleman,

My father brought me to his father's house,

Telling me their dwelt safety.--There dwelt villany,

Treason, lust, basenes! for this godlesse man

(The storme being ore) came in & forcd from me

The Jewell of my virgin honour.

_Hen_. False!

_Fer_. I would not have thee thinke (thou graceles wretch)

She, being contracted to thee, loving thee,

Loving thee far more dearly then her selfe,

Would wound her vertue soe, so blott her fame

And bring a scandall on my house & me,

Were not the fact most true.

_Hen_. Most false by all that ever man can sweare by.

We falling out, I told her once I nere

Would marry her; & soe she workes this mischiefe.

_Gyr_. You here stand chargd for ravishing her, & you

Must marry her or she may have your life.

_Mac_. Lady, what say you? which had you rather have,

His life or him?

_Ele_. I am not cruell; pay me my first Bond

Of marriage, which you seald to, & I free you

And shall with Joy run flying to your armes.

_All_. Law you?[53]

_Mac_. That's easy enough.

_Hen_. Rackes, Gibbetts, wheeles make sausages of my flesh first!

Ile be ty'd to no man's Strumpet.

_Alq_. Then you muste look to dye.

_Mac_. Lady, withdraw.

_Hen_. Well, if I doe, somebody shall packe.

_Ele_. Oh me, unfortunate Creature! [_Exit_.

_Enter Manuell to be rackt; Jaylour & Officers_.

_Med_. _Don Manuell Guzman_ ere you taste the tortures,

Which you are sure to feele, will you confesse

This murther of your father?

_Man_. Pray, give me privacy a little with my brother.

_All_. [_Alq_.?] Take it.

_Man_. O brother your owne Conscience knowes you wrong me:

Ile rather suffer on the Gallow Tree

Then thus be torne in pieces. Canst thou see mee

Thus worryed amongst hangmen? deare _Henrico_,

For heavens sake, for thine owne sake pitty mee.

_All_. [_Alq_.?] What sayes he?

_Hen_. Cunning, cunning, cunning Traytour!

In my eare he confesses all again and prayes me

To speake to you.

_Mac_. Will you openly confesse?

_Man_. No, no, I cannot. Caytiffe, I spake not soe:

I must not wound my Conscience to lay on it

A guilt it knowes not. Ile not so dishonour

My father, nor my ancestours before me,

Nor my posterity with such an earthquake

To shake our noble house.

_Mac_. Give him the Law then.

_Man_. Ile meete a thousand deaths first.

_Hen_. Plucke, & plucke home, for he's a murtherous Villaine.

_Man_. Thou worse, a divell.

_Mac_. Racke him!

_Man_. Oh stay! for heavens sake spread your mercy!

I doe confesse the murther; I killd my father.

_All_. Take him off!

_Man_. This hand stabbd him.

_Mac_. Where?

_Man_. Neere _St. Germains_

In _Paris_, in a darke night, & then I fled.

_Mac_. Thy owne tongue is thy Judge; take him away:

To-morrow looke to dye: send him a Confessour.

_Jay_. Ile have a holy care of him.

[_Exit Manuell, led by the Jaylour_.

_Hen_. Who's now, my lords, the Villaine?

_Enter Eleonora & Buzzano_.

_Ele_. Oh Justice, here's a witnesse of my Rape.

_Mac_. Did you see't, sirra?

_Buz_. See't! no, sir, would I had; but when she was in labour I heard

her cry out "helpe! helpe!" & the Gamboll being ended she came in like

a mad woman, ruffled & crumpled, her haire about her eares; & he all

unbrac'd, sweating as if he had bene thrashing; & afterwards he told me,

my lords, that he had downe diddled her.

_Hen_. I now am lost indeed, & on my knee

Beg pardon of that goodnes, that pure Temple

Which my base lust prophand, & will make good

My wrongs to her by marriage.

_Mac_. What say you, Lady?

_Ele_. He spurnd my mercy when it flew to him

And courted him to kisse it; therefore now

Ile have his life.

_Fer_. That life, so had, redeemes

Thine & thy fathers infamy. Justice! my Lords.

_Hen_. Cruell Creature!

_Mac_. Take him away & lead him to his brother;

You both must die next morning.

_Hen_. I deserve it;

And so that Slave, too, that betrayed his Master.

_Buz_. Why should I not betray my Master, when he betrayed his Mistris.

_Ele_. Get you gone, sirra.

[_Exeunt Henrico & Buzzano_.

_Mac_. You are dismissd: Faire Lady,

You shall have Law, your Ravisher shall dye.

_Ele_. Oh that my life from death could sett him free!

[_Exit_.

_Mac_. Pray, _Don Fernando_, follow her & soften

Her heart to pitty the poore gentleman:

The Crime is not so Capitall.

_Fer_. Ile doe my best.

[_Exit_.

_Mac_. That such a noble _Spanyard_ as _Don Pedro_

Should be so cursed in's Children!

_Enter Buzzano, Don Pedro, Fernando & Eleonora_.

_Buz_. Hee's come, hee's come, my Lord! _Don Pedro Gusman_ is still

alive,--see, see!

_Mac_. Let us descend to meet a happinesse

Crownes all our expectations.

_Pedro_. Whilst I meet

A Thunder strikes me dead. Oh, poore, wrongd Lady,

The poyson which the villaine poures on thy honour

Runs more into my veines then all the Venome

He spitts at me or my deare Boy, his brother.

My Lords, your pardon that I am transported

With shame & sorrow thus beyond my selfe,

Not paying to you my duty.

_All_. Your love, _Don Pedro_.

_Mac_. Conceale your selfe a while; your sons wele send for,

And shew them deaths face presently.

_Pedro_. Ile play a part in't. [_Exit_.

_Mac_. Let them be fetcht, & speake not of a father.

_Ten_. This shall be done. [_Exit_.

_Mac_. Is your Compassion, Lady, yet awake?

Remember that the scaffold, hangman, sword,

And all the Instruments death playes upon,

Are hither calld by you; 'tis you may stay them.

When at the Barre there stood your Ravisher

You would have savd him, then you made your choyce

To marry him: will you then kill your husband?

_Ele_. Why did that husband then rather chuse death

Then me to be his bride? is his life mine?

Why, then, because the Law makes me his Judge,

Ile be, like you, not cruell, but reprieve him;

My prisoner shall kisse mercy.

_Mac_. Y'are a good Lady.

_Med_. Lady, untill they come, repose your selfe.

[_Exit Eleonora_.

_Mac_. How now? so soone come back? why thus returned?

_Enter Pike & a Gentleman, with Letters_.

_Gen_. Our Journey to _Madrid_ the Kinge himselfe

Cutts off, by these his royall letters sent

Upon the wings of speed to all your Graces.

He lay one night since at your house, my Lord

Where, by your noble Wife, he had a wellcome

Fitting his greatnes & your will.

_Alq_. I'me glad of't.

_Mac_. The King, our Master, writes heere, _Englishman_,

He has lost a subiect by you; yet referres

Himselfe to us about you.

_Pike_. Againe, I stand heere

To lay my own life downe, please his high Maiesty

To take it: for what's lost his fate to fall

Was _fortune de la guerre_, & at the feete

Of his most royal Maiesty & at yours

(My Princely Lords & Judges) low as th'earth

I throw my wretched selfe & begg his mercy.

_Mac_. Stand up; that mercy which you aske is signd

By our most royall master.

_Pike_. My thankes to heaven, him & your Graces.

_Mac_. The King further writes heere,

That though your Nation came in Thunder hither

Yet he holds out to you his Enemy

2 friendly proffers: serve him in his dominions

Eyther by land or sea, & thou shalt live

Upon a golden pension, such a harvest

As thou nere reapst in _England_.

_Pike_. His kingly favours

Swell up in such high heapes above my merit,

Could I reare up a thousand lives, they cannot

Reach halfe the way. Ime his, to be his Vassaile,

His Gally Slave, please you to chaine me to the oare;

But, with his highnes pardon & your allowance,

I beg one Boone.

_All_. What is't?

_Pike_. That I may once more

See my owne Country Chimneys cast out smoake.

I owe my life and service to the King,

(The king of _England_) let me pay that Bond

Of my allegeance; &, that being payd,

There is another obligation,

One to a woefull Wife & wretched Children

Made wretched by my misery. I therefore beg,

Intreat, emplore, submissively hold up my hands

To have his Kingly pitty & yours to lett me goe.

_All_. [_Alq_.?] Let him ene goe.

_Mac_. Well, since we cannot win you to our service,

We will not weane you from your Countryes love.

The king, our lord, commands us here to give you

A hundred pistoletts to beare you home.

_Pike_. A royall bounty, which my memory

Shall never loose; no, nor these noble favours

Which from the _Lady Marquesse Alquevezze_

Raynd plenteously on me.

_Alq_. What did she to thee?

_Gyr_. How did she entertaine thee?

_Pike_. Rarely; it is a brave, bounteous, munificent, magnificent

Marquezza! the great Turke cannot tast better meat then I have eaten

at this ladies Table.

_Alq_. So, so.

_Pike_. And for a lodging, if the curtaines about my bed had bene cutt

of Sunbeames, I could not lye in a more glorious Chamber.

_Mac_. You have something, then, to speake of our weomen when y'are in

_England_.

_Pike_. This Box, with a gold chaine in't for my Wife & some pretty

things for my Children, given me by your honourd Lady would else cry

out on me. There's a _Spanish_ shirt, richly lacd & seemd, her guift

too; & whosoever layes a foul hand upon her linnen in scorne of her

bounty, were as good flea[54] the Divells skin over his eares.

_Mac_. Well said: in _England_ thou wilt drinke her health?

_Pike_. Were it a glasse as deepe to the bottome as a _Spanish_ pike is

long, an _Englishman_ shall doe't. Her health, & _Don Johns_ wives too.

_Enter Jaylor_.

_Jay_. The Prisoners are upon comming.

_Mac_. Stand by, _Englishman_.

_Enter Teniente, Henrico, Manuell, Pedro (as a fryer);

at another dore Eleonora_.

_Mac_. Give the Lady roome there!

_Clark_. Peace!

_Mac_. Your facts are both so foule your hated lives

Cannot be too soone shortned; therefore these Lords

Hold it not fitt to lend you breath till morning,

But now to cutt you off.

_Both_. The stroke is welcome.

_Pedro_. Shall I prepare you?

_Hen_. Save your paynes, good father.

_Man_. We have allready cast up our accounts

And sent, we hope, our debts up into heaven.

_Fer_. Our sorrowes & our sighes fly after them.

_Ped_. Then your confession of the murther stands

As you your selfe did sett it downe?

_Man_. It does;

But on my knees I beg this marginall note

May sticke upon the paper; that no guilt,

But feare of Tortures frighted me to take

That horrid sin upon me. I am as innocent

And free as are the starres from plotting treason

Gainst their first mover.

_Pedro_. I was then in _France_

When of your fathers murther the report

Did fill all _Paris_.

_Man_. Such a reverend habit

Should not give harbour to so blacke a falshood.

_Hen_. Tis blacke, & of my dying; for 'twas I

To cheate my brother of my fathers lands,

Layd this most hellish plott.

_Fer_. 3[55] hellish sins, Robbery, Rape & Murther.

_Hen_. I'me guilty of all Three; his soul's as white

And cleare from murther as this holy man

From killing mee.

_Pedro_. No [know], there's a thing about me

Shall strike thee into dust & make thy tongue

With trembling to proclayme thyselfe a Villaine

More then thou yet hast done:--See, tis my Eye.

_Hen_. Oh, I am confounded! [_Falls_.

_Man_. But I comforted

With the most heavenly apparition

Of my deare honourd father.

_Fer_. Take thou comfort

By two more apparitions, of a father

And a lost daughter, yet heere found for thee.

_Man_. Oh, noble sir, I pray forgive my brother.

_Ele_. See, sir, I doe; & with my hand reach to him

My heart to give him new life.

_Fer_. Rise, my _Henrico_!

_Mac_. Rise & receive a noble minded wife

Worth troupes of other weomen.

_Hen_. Shame leaves me speechles.

_Pedro_. Gett thee a tongue againe, & pray, & mend.

_Mac_. Letters shall forthwith fly into _Madrid_

To tell the King the storyes of Two Brothers,

Worthy the Courtiers reading. Lovers, take hands:

_Hymen_ & gentle faeryes strew your way:

Our Sessions turnes into a Bridall day.

_All_. Fare thee well, _Englishman_.

_Pike_. I will ring peales of prayers of you all,

My Lords & noble Dons.

_Mac_. Doe soe, if thou hast iust cause: howsoever,

When thy swift ship cutts through the curled mayne,

Dance to see _England_, yet speake well of _Spayne_.

_Pike_. I shall.--Where must I leave my pistoletts?

_Gent_. Follow mee.

[_Exeunt Omnes_.

FINIS.

INTRODUCTION TO _THE LADY MOTHER_.

The authorship of this anonymous play, now printed for the first time

(from Eg. MS. 1994), is not difficult to discover. Any one who has had

the patience to read the Plays of Henry Glapthorne cannot fail to be

amused by the bland persistence with which certain passages are

reproduced in one play after another. Glapthorne's stock of fancies was

not very extensive, but he puts himself to considerable pains to make

the most of them. In _The Lady Mother_ we find the same ornaments spread

out before us, many of them very tawdry at their best. Glapthorne's

editor has striven to show that the weak-kneed playwright was a

fellow-pupil of John Milton's at St. Paul's. One cannot think of the two

names together without calling to mind the "lean and flashy songs" and

"scrannel pipes of wretched straw" in _Lycidas_.

Yet Glapthorne was a man of some parts. He had little enough dramatic

power, but he writes occasionally with tenderness and feeling. In his

poetical garden rank weeds choke up the flower-beds; but still, if we

have patience to pursue the quest, we may pick here and there a

musk-rose or a violet that retains its fragrance. He seems to have taken

Shirley as his master; but desire in the pupil's case outran

performance. It is, indeed, a pitiful fall from the _Grateful Servant_,

a honey-sweet old play, fresh as an idyl of Theocritus, to the paltry

faded graces of the _Lady's Privilege_.

A note at the end of _The Lady Mother_ in the hand-writing of William

Blagrave, acting for the Master of the Revels, shows that the play was

licensed in October, 1635. From a passage in II., 1, it would seem to

have been produced at the Salisbury Court Theatre in Whitefriars. In the

same year Glapthorne's comedy of the _Hollander_, according to the

title-page, was being acted at the Cockpit, Drury Lane. His other pieces

were produced rather later. I am inclined to think that _The Lady

Mother_, in spite of the wild improbability of the plot and the poorness

of much of the comic parts, is our author's best work. In such lines as

the following (IV., 1) there is a little flickering of pathos:--

"Enough, good friend; no more.

Had a rude _Scythian_, ignorant of tears,

Unless the wind enforced them from his eyes,

Heard this relation, sure he would have wept;

And yet I cannot. I have lost all sense

Of pitty with my womanhood, and now

That once essentiall Mistress of my soule,

Warme charity, no more inflames my brest

Then does the glowewormes uneffectuall fire

The ha[n]d that touches it. Good sir, desist

The agravation of your sad report; [_Weepe_.

Ive to much griefe already."

The "glowewormes uneffectuall fire" is of course pilfered from Hamlet,

but it is happily introduced. There is some humour in the scene (I., 2)

where the old buck, Sir Geoffrey, who is studying a compliment to his

mistress while his hair is being trimmed by his servant before the glass,

puts by the importunity of his scatter-brain'd nephew and the blustering

captain, who vainly endeavour to bring him to the point and make him

disburse. On the whole I am confident that _The Lady Mother_ will be

found less tedious than any other of Glapthorne's pieces.

THE LADY MOTHER: A COMEDY.

BY HENRY GLAPTHORNE.

_Written in 1635, and now printed for the first time_.

The Play of The Lady Mother.

_Actus Primus_.

(SCENE 1.)

_Enter Thorowgood, Bonvill & Grimes_.

_Bon_. What? will it be a match man?

Shall I kneele to thee and aske thee blessing, ha?

_Tho_. Pish! I begin to feare her, she does

Dally with her affection: I admire itt.

_Bon_. Shee and her daughters

Created were for admiration only,

And did my Mistress and her sister not

Obscure their mothers luster fancy could not

Admitt a fuller bewty.

_Tho_. Tis easier to expresse

Where nimble winds lodge, ore investigate

An eagles passage through the agill ayre

Then to invent a paraphrase to expresse

How much true virtue is indebted to their

Unparaleld perfections.

_Bon_. Nay[56], but shall I not be acquainted with your designe? when we

must marry, faith to save charges of two wedding dinners, lets cast so

that one day may yeild us bridegroome,--I to the daughter and thou to

the mother.

_Tho_. She falls off

With such a soddaine ambiguitie,

From the strong heate of her profesd[57] love

That I conceive she intends a regular proofe

Of my untainted Faith.

_Grimes_. Soe I thinke, too: when I was young the plaine downe-right way

serv'd to woe and win a wench; but now woing is gotten, as all things

else are, into the fashion; gallantts now court their Mistress with

mumps & mows as apes and monke[y]s doe.

_Bon_. But cannot all your fluent witt interpret

Why she procastinatts your promisd match?

By this light, her daughter would be married tomorrow

If her mother and I had concluded on the Joynture.

_Tho_. The most evident reason she will give me of this unwellcome

protraccon is she has some new employment to put on me, which performd

she has ingaged her selfe to certainty of her designing me an answerare

[_sic_].

_Enter Lovell_.

_Grimes_. Here comes your Rivall, Mr. _Thorowgood_,--_Alexander_ the

_Great_, her Ladishipps loving Steward.

_Bon_. But does he affect the lady; what's his character?

_Grimes_. He was by trade a taylor, sir, and is the tenth part of the

bumbast that goes to the setting forth of a man: his dealing consists

not much in weight but in the weight of his pressing Iron, under whose

tyranny you shall perceave no small shrinking.

_Tho_. Well said, _Grimes_. On!

_Grimes_. He has alterd himselfe out of his owne cutt since he was

steward; yet, if you saw him in my ladyes Chamber you would take him

for some usher of a dancing schoole, as being aptest in sight for a

crosse cap.

_Tho_. Excellent _Grimes_ still!

_Grimes_. By his cloathes you might deeme him a knight; but yet if you

uncase him, you will find his sattin dublett naught but fore sleaves &

brest, the back part buckram; his cloake and cape of two sorts; his

roses and garters of my ladyes old Cypres: to conclude, sir, he is an

ambodexter or a Jack-of-all-sides & will needs mend that which Nature

made: he takes much upon him since the old Knight dyed, and does fully

intend to run to hell[58] for the lady: he hates all wines and strong

drinks--mary, tis but in publique, for in private he will be drunke, no

tinker like him.

_Bon_. Peace, sirrah; observe.

_Lov_. So, let me see the _summa totalis_ of my sweet ladies

perfections.

_Grimes_. Good, he has her in whole already.

_Tho_. Peace, _Grimes_.

_Lov_. _Imprimis, her faire haire; no silken sleave

Can be so soft the gentle worm does weave.

It[em], noe Plush or satten sleeke, I vow,

May be compard unto her velvet brow.

It[em], her eyes--two buttons made of iett;

Her lipps gumd taffety that will not frett;

Her cheeks are changeable, as I suppose,--

Carnation and white, lyllie and rose_.

_Grimes_. I, there it goes.

_Bon_. I protest I comend him; he goes through stitch with her like

the Master of his trade.

_Lov_. _It[em] her brests two bottomes[59] be of thred,

By which love to his laborinth is led.

Her belly_--

_Grimes_. I, marry, sir, now he comes to the purpose.

_Lov_. _Her Belly a soft Cushion where no sinner

But her true love must dare stick a pin in her_.

_Grimes_. That line has got the prick and prayse from all the rest.

_Lov_. _Butt to that stuff of stuffs, that without scoff

Is Camills haire or else stand further off_.

_Grimes_. How many shreads has he stoale here to patch up this lady?

_Lov_. _The totall some of my blest deity

Is the magazine of Natures treasury_.--

Soe, this made up, will I take an occasion to dropp where she may find

it. But, stay; here's company.

_Bon_. Mr. _Lovell_.

_Lov_. And see, I shall divulge myselfe.

_Grimes_. A foole, I doubt not.

_Bon_. Is your lady stirring?

_Lov_. She is risen, sir, and early occupied in her occasions spiritual,

and domesticke busines.

_Enter Lady & Magdalen_.

_Lady_. Sweet Mr. _Bonvil_.

The simple entertain[m]ent you receave here

I feare will scare you from us: you're so early

Up, you do not sleepe well.

_Tho_. I cannot looke on her

But Ime as violent as a high-wrought sea

In my desires; a fury through my eyes

At every glance of hers invades my heart.

_Lady_. What ayles you, servant? are you not well?

_Bon_. 'Tis his humour, Madam; he is accustomed, though it be in

company, to hold a dialogue with his thoughts. Please you, lady, to

give his fever libertie; the fit will soon be overpasd.

_Tho_. She bears her age well, or she is not sped

Far into th'vale of yeares: she has an eye

Piercing as is an Eglets when her damme,

Training[60] her out into the serene air,

Teaches her face the Sunbeames.

_Bon_. Madam, I fear my friend

Hath falne againe in love; he practises

To himself new speeches; you and he are not

Broke off, I hope.

_Lady_. O, sir, I value my servant at a higher rate:

We two must not easily disagree.

Sir _Alexander_, attend in Mr. _Bonvill_.

My daughter's up by this time, and I would have him give her the first

salute. You had best be wary, _Bonvill_; the young cittizen or the

souldier will rob you of her.

_Bon_. O, we feare not them: shall we goe, sir?

_Lady_. Nay, Ile detaine my servant.

_Bon_. Harke you, sir, strike home; doe you heare?

[_Exeunt Bonvill, Grimes, Lovell & Mag_.

_Lady_. Servant, have you leasure

To hear what I inioyne you?

_Tho_. Your good pleasure.

_Lady_. What shall I doe? I can no longer beare

This flame so mortall; I have wearid heaven

With my entreaties and shed teares enough

To extinguish _Aetna_, but, like water cast

On coales, they ad unto my former heate

A more outragious fervor. I have tried

All modest meanes to give him notice of

My violent love, but he, more dull then earth,

Either conceives them not or else, possessd

With full affection of my daughter, scornes me.

_Tho_. Madam, wilt please you to deliver your pleasure?

_Lady_. _Thorowgood_,

Not clouds of lightning, or the raging bolt

Heavens anger darts at the offending world,

Can with such horrid rigor peirce the earth

As these sad words I must demonstrate to you

Doe my afflicted brest.--Ime lost; my tongue

When I would speake, like to an Isicle

Disturbd by motion of unruly winds

Shakes to pronounce't, yet freezes to my roofe

Faster by th'agitation.

_Tho_. Your full Judgment

Could not have found an apter instrument

For the performance of what you designe,

Then I experience how much any man

May become passive in obedience

To the intent of woman, in my truth.

Set the abstrusest comment on my faith

Imagination can resolve, my study

Shall mak't as easie as the plainest lines

Which hearty lovers write.

_Enter Timothy_.

_Tim_. Madam, this letter and his humble vowes

From your deserving sonn.

_Lady_. He writes me here he will be here tomorrow.

Where left you him?

_Tim_. At your right worthy Cosens.

_Lady_. What manner of man is this Mr. _Thurston_

He brings with him?

_Tim_. A most accomplishd gentleman.

_Lady_. 'Tis well: Mr. _Thoroegood_,

Weele walke into the Gallery, and there

Discourse the rest.

_Tho_. I long till I receive the audience of it.

_Tim_. Your ladiship will vouchsafe to meete

The Gent[lemen] in your Coach some two miles hence?

_Lady_. Ile thinke of it.

[_Exeunt omnes_.

(SCENE 2.)

_Enter Sucket and Crackby[61].

Suc_. Come, deport your selfe with a more elated countenance: a

personage of your rare endowments so dejected! 'tis fitt for groomes,

not men magnanimous, to be so bashfull: speake boldly to them, that like

cannon shott your breath may batter; you would hardly dare to take in

townes and expugne fortresses, that cannot demolish a paltry woman.

_Crac_. Pox of this Country, it has metamorphisd me. Would I were in my

native Citty ayre agen, within the wholesome smell of seacole: the

vapor[s] rising from the lands new dunged are more infectious to me then

the common sewer ith sicknes time. Ime certaine of my selfe Ime impudent

enough and can dissemble as well as ere my Father did to gett his

wealth, but this country has tane my edge of quite; but I begin to sound

the reason of it.

_Suc_. What may it be imagind.

_Crac_. Why, here are no Taverns where for my crowne I can have food

provocative, besides the gaining of many precious phrase[s] for (from?)

divers gallants new frenchefied. Theirs nothing to excite desire but

creame and eggs, and they are so common every clowne devoures them. Were

each egge at twelve pence, or as deare as lobsters, I could afford to

eate them, but I hate all that is vulgar; 'tis most base.

_Suc_. Pish, tis dificience in your resolution:

Suppose your mistress were an enemy

You were to encounter in sterne duell.

_Crac_. 'Tis well my Enemie is a woman; I should feare else to suppose

the meeting. Resolution! how can a man have resolution that drinkes

nought but ale able to kill a Dutchman? Conduit water is nector to it,

_Suc_. Nay, but I say, suppose--

_Crac_. Suppose! Why here are no wenches halfe so amorous as Citty

tripennies[62]: those that are bewtifull the dew is not so cold. I did

but begg a curtesie of a chambermaide, and she laughd at me! Ile to the

Citty againe, that's certaine; where for my angell I can imbrace

pl[enty]. If I stay here a little longer, for want of exercise I shall

forget whether a woman be fish or flesh: I have almost don't already.

_Suc_. O, heeres your uncle, move him; you conceive me;

He must disburse.

_Crac_. And 'tis as hard to wrest a penny from him as from a bawd.

_Enter Sir Gefferie and Bunche_.

_Sir Geff_. Erect that locke a little; theres a hayre

Which, like a foreman of a shop, does strive

To be above his fellowes. Pish! this glasse

Is falsly silverd, maks me look as gray

As if I were 4 score.

_Bun_. What does he want of it?

_Sir Geff_. Combe with more circumspection, knave; these perfumes

Have a dull odor; there is meale among them,

My Mrs. will not scent them.

_Crac_. Uncle, my friend,

My martiall fellow is deficient

In this ubiquitarie mettall, silver:

You must impart.

_Sir Geff_. This garter is not well tide, fellow: where

Wert thou brought up? thou knowest not to tie

A rose yet, knave: a little straiter: so,

Now, tis indifferent. Who can say that I

Am old now?

_Bun_. Marry, that can I or any one which sees you.

_Suc_. Death to my reputation!

Sir, we are gent[lemen] and deserve regard:

Will you not be responsible?

_Sir Geff_. Alas, good Captaine, I was meditating how to salute my lady

this morning. You have bin a traviler: had I best do it in the _Italian_

garbe or with a _Spanish_ gravity? your _French_ mode is grown so common

every vintners boy has it as perfect as his _anon, anon, sir_. Hum, I

must consider on it.

_Crac_. Nay, but uncle, uncle, shall we have answeare concerning this

mony, uncle? You must disburse; that is the souldiers phrase. You see

this man; regard him.

_Suc_. Death of vallor! I can hold no longer; I shall rise in wroth

against him.

_Crac_. Dee heare, Uncle? you must furnish him; he wilbe irefull

presently, and then a whole bagg will not satisfie him; heele eate your

gold in anger and drinke silver in great sack glasses.

_Sir Geff_. Pox o'this Congee; 't shalbe thus, no thus;

That writhing of my body does become me

Infinitly. Now to begett an active

Complement that, like a matins sung

By virgins, may enchant her amorous ear.

The _Spanish Basolas[63] manos_ sounds, methinks,

As harsh as a Morisco kettledrum;

The _French boniour_ is ordinary as their

Disease: hees not a gent that cannot parlee.

I must invent some new and polite phrases.

_Crac_. Shall I have answeare yet, sir.

_Sir Geff_. Pish, you disturbe me.--Gratulate her rest,

Force an encomium on her huswifry

For being up so early.--_Bunch_, where is my nephew?

_Crac_. I have bin here this halfe hower and could not get answere.

_Sir Geff_, To what, good nephew?--I was meditating a little seriously.

_Crac_. Concerning this white earth.

_Sir Geff_. Youde know the nature of it? If it be marle 'tis good to

manure land; if clay, to make tobacco pipes.

_Crac_. I meane mony.

_Sir Geff_. O mony, Nephew: Ide thought youde learnd ith Citty

How to use mony: here we do imploy it

To purchase land and other necessaries.

_Suc_. Infamy to fame and noble reputation!

Old man, dost thou disdaine valour? I tell thee, Catterpillar,

I must have mony.

_Sir Geff_. 'Tis reason good you should; it is fitting to cherish men

of armes. There is a treasurer in the county, Captaine, pays souldiers

pensions: if any be due to you Ile write my letter, you shall receive

it.

_Bun_. Faith, there he mett with you.

_Crac_. I see a storme a coming. Uncle, I wilbe answerable upon account:

my souldier must have mettall.

_Sir Geff_. Iron and Steele is most convenient for Souldiers; but, since

you say it, Nephew, he shall have it: how much must it be?

_Suc_. A score of Angells shall satisfie for the confrontment you have

offred me in being dilatory.

_Sir Geff_. _Bunch_, deliver him ten pounds;--but, dee heare.

_Bunch_, let be in light gold; 'twill serve his turn as well as heavier:

it may be he is one of those projectors transports it beyond sea.

_Enter Magdalen_.

_Mag_. Sir, I come to give you notice my ladyes walkd into the garden.

_Sir Geff_. Life! is she upp so early?

_Mag_. An hower since, beleeve it.

_Crac_. Is my Mistress stirring?

_Mag_. In truth, I know not.

_Sir Geff_. Nephew, demeane your selfe with[64] all respect

Toward the gentlewoman you affect.

You must learne with here since the citty

Could spare you none.--Ile to the lady.

[_Exeunt Bunch, Sir Geff. and Mag_.

_Crac_. Captaine, shalls into th'Celler, Captaine?

_Suc_. I like the Motion.

_Crac_. Come away, then: there is indifferent liquor in this house,

but that ith towne is most abominable. Weele drinke our owne healths,

Captaine.

_Suc_. Well considered; 'tis for our reputation.

[_Exeunt omnes_.

(SCENE 3.)

_Enter Bonvill, Clarinna, Belizea and Grimes_.

_Bon_. Come, you are wantons both: If I were absent,

You would with as much willingness traduce

My manners to them. What Idiots are wee men

To tender our services to women

Who deride us for our paines!

_Cla_. Why can you great wise men who esteeme us women

But equall with our parrets or at best

But a degree above them, prating creatures

Devoid of reason, thinke that when we see

A man whose teeth will scarce permitt his tongue

To say,--(he is soe like December come

A woing to the Spring, with all the ensignes

Of youth and bravery as if he meant

To dare his land-lord Death to single rapier)--

We have not so much spleene as will engender

A modest laughter at him?

_Bel_. Nay, theres his Nephew, _Crackby_, your sweet servant.

_Clar_. My Servant! I do admire that man's impudence,

How he dare speake to any woman.

_Bon_. Why, is he not flesh and blood?

_Clar_. Yes, but I question whether it be mans or no.

They talk of changlings: if there be such things

I doubt not but hees one of them.

_Bel_. Fie,[65] Sister; 'tis a prettye gent, I know you love him.

_Clar_. You hitt it there, I faith,[66]--You know the man?

_Bon_. Yes, very well.

_Clar_. Have you then ever seene such another monster?

He was begott surely in the wane of the moone,

When Natures tooles were at laime Vulcans forge

A sharpning, that she was forced to shake this lumpe together.

_Bon_. What man for heavens sake could your nicenes fancy?

_Clar_. Not you of all that ever I beheld.

_Bel_. And why, good wisdome?

_Clar_. Nay, do not scratch me because he is your choyse, forsooth.

_Bel_. Well, we shall see the goodly youth your curiositie has elected,

when my brother returnes, I hope.

_Clar_. I hope soe, too; I marvill where this Cub is,

He is not roaring here yet.

_Enter Thorogood_.

_Bon_. Frend, thou hast lost

The absolu[t]st characters deliverd by this lady:

Would thou hadst come a little sooner.

_Tho_. Ladies,

I must desire your pardon for my friend:

I have some busines will a while deprive him

Your sweet companies.

_Clar_. Take him away; we are weary of him.

_Bel_. Sister, lets leave the gentlemen alone,

And to our chambers.

[_Exeunt Bel. and Clar.

_Bon_. _Grimes_, put to the doore and leave us.--

Whats the matter?

[_Exit Grimes_.

_Tho_. Freind,

Ere I begin my story I would wish you

Collect yourselfe, awake your sleeping Spiritts,

Invoake your patience, all thats man about you

To ayd your resolution; for I feare

The newes I bring will like a palsie shake

Your soules indifferenst temper.

_Bon_. Prethee, what is't which on the soddaine can

Be thus disastrous? 'tis beyond my thoughts.

_Tho_. Nay, slight it not: the dismall ravens noate

Or mandrakes screches, to a long-sick man

Is not so ominous as the heareing of it

Will be to you; 'twill like a frost congeale

Your lively heate,--yet it must out, our frendship

Forbids concealment.

_Bon_. Do not torture me;

Ime resolute to heare it.

_Tho_. Your soe admired Mistress

Who parted from you now, _Belisea_,--

_Bon_. You have don well before

Your sad relation to repeat that sound;

That holy name whose fervor does excite

A fire within mee sacred as the flame

The vestalls offer: see how it ascends

As if it meant to combat with the sunn

For heats priority! Ime arm'd gainst death,

Could thy words blow it on me.

_Tho_. Here me, then:

Your Mistress--

_Bon_. The Epitome of virtues,

Who like the pretious reliques of a Saint

Ought only to be seene, not touchd.

_Tho_. Yet heare me;

Cease your immoderate prayses: I must tell you

You doe adore an Idoll; her black Soule

Is tainted as an Apple which the Sunn

Has kist to putrifaction; she is

(Her proper appelation sounds so foule

I quake to speake it) a corrupted peice,

A most lascivious prostitute.

_Bon_. Howes this?

Speake it agen, that if the sacrilege

Thou'st made gainst vertue be but yet sufficient

To yeild thee dead, the iteration of it

May damne thee past the reach of mearcye. Speake it,

While thou hast utterance left; but I conceit

A lie soe monstrous cannot chuse but choake

The vocall powers, or like a canker rott

Thy tung in the delivery.

_Tho_. Sir, your rage

Cannot inforce a recantacion from me:

I doe pronounce her light as is a leafe

In withered Autumne shaken from the trees

By the rude winds: noe specld serpent weares

More spotts than her pide honor.

_Bon_. So, no more:

Thy former words incenst me but to rage;

These to a fury which noe sea of teares,

Though shed by queenes or Orphants, shall extinguish;

Nay, should my mother rise from her cold urne

And weepe herself to death againe to save

Thee from perdition, 't should not; were there placd

Twixt thee and mee a host of blasing starrs,

Thus I would through them to thee! [_Draw.

Tho_. Had I knowne

Your passion would have vanquishd reason thus,

You should have met your ruine unadvisd;

Hugd your destruction; taken what the lust

Of other men had left you. But the name

And soule of friendship twixt us I had thought

Would have retain'd this most unmanly rage

Gainst me, for declaration of a truth

By which you might be ransomed from the armes

Of her adulterate honor.

_Bon_. Yes, kind foole;

Perswade an _Indian_ who has newly div'd

Into the ocean and obtaind a pearle,

To cast it back againe; labour t'induce

_Turkes_ to contemne their _Alcoron_ ere you strive

To make me creditt my _Belissia_ false. [_Kneele_.

Forgive me, holy love, that I delay

So long to scourge the more than heathnish wrongs

Of this iniurious villaine, whome me thinks--

Blow him hence to hell

With his contagious slander! yet before

Thou doest fall by me as, if heaven have not

Lost all its care of Innocence, thou must doe,

Tell me what Divell urgd thee to detract

From virtue thus, for of thy selfe thou couldst not

(Unlesse with thee shee hath bin vicious) know it

Without some information: whoes the Author

Of this prodigious calumnie?

_Tho_. Her mother.

_Bon_. Ha! her mother?

_Tho_. Yes, she; that certaine Oracle of truth,

That pretious mine of honor, which before

She would exhaust, or yeild your innocence

A spoyle to vice, chose rather to declare

Her daughter's folly; and with powerfull teares

Besought me, by the love I bore to goodnes,

Which in her estimation had a roome

Higher than Nature, to reveale it to you

And disingage you from her.

Bon. Soe, rest there, [_Put up_.

Ere thou beest drawne were the whole sex reduced

To one, left only to preserve earths store,

In the defence of women; who,[67] but that

The mothers virtues stands betweene heavens Justice

Would for the daughters unexampled sinne

Be by some soddaine Judgment swept from earth

As creatures too infectious. Gentle freind,

An humor, heavy as my soule was steep'd

In _Lethe_, seases on me and I feare

My passion will inforce me to transgresse

Manhood; I would not have thee see me weepe;

I prethee leave mee, solitude will suite

Best with my anguish. [_Sitt downe.

Tho_. Your good Genius keepe you. [_Exit_.

[_Enter Belisea_.]

_Bel_. Why have you staid thus long?

Young _Crackby_ and his friend are newly up

And have bin with us. My sister has had

The modest bout with them: 'tis such a wench.

Are you a sleepe? why doe you not looke up?

What muse you on?

_Bon_. Faith, I was thinking where

In the whole world to find an honest woman.

_Bel_. An excellent meditation! What doe you take me for, my Mother

and my Sister?

_Bon_. You alway excepted; tis but melancholly;

Prethee bestow a kisse upon me, love;

Perchance that will expell it.

_Bel_. If your cure be wrought soe easily, pittie you should perish

for want of physick. [_Kiss him_.

_Bon_. She kisses as sheed wont; were she unchast,

Surely her breath would like a _Stigian_ mist

Or some contagious vapor blast me; but

'Tis sweet as _Indian_ balme, and from her lips

Distills[68] a moisture pretious as the Dew

The amorous bounty of the wholesome morne

Throwes on rose buds; her cheeks are fresh and pure

As the chast ayre that circumscribes them, yet

Theres that within her renders her as foule

As the deformed'st _Ethiope_.

_Bel_. Whats the matter?

Why do you staire so on me?

_Bon_. To admire

That such a goodly building as this same

Should have such vild stuff in itt.

_Bel_. What meanes this language?

_Bon_. Nothing, but only to informe you what

You know to well alreadie: _Belisia_, you are

--(I cannot call her whore)--a perjurd woman.

_Bel_. Defend me innocence! I scarce remember

That ever I made oath and therefore wonder

How I should breake on.

_Bon_. Have you not with imprecations beg'd

Heavens vengeance if you ere lovd man but me?

_Bel_. And those same heavens are vouchers[69]

I've kept my vowes with that strict purity

That I have done my honor.

_Bon_. I believe thee;

The divell sometimes speaks truth. Intemperate woman,

Thoust made that name a terme convertible

With fury, otherwise I should call thee soe,

How durst thou with this impudence abuse

My honest faith? did I appeare a guest

So infinitly worthles that you thought

The fragments of thy honour good enough

To sate my appetite, what other men

Had with unhallowd hands prophaind? O woman,

Once I had lockd in thy deceiving brest

A treasure wealthier then the _Indies_ both

Can in their glory boast, my faithfull heart,

Which I do justly ravish back from it

Since thou art turnd a strumpet.

_Bel_. Doe you thinke

I am what you have term'd me?

_Bon_. Doe I thinke

When I behold the wanton Sparrows change

Their chirps to billing, they are chast? or see

The Reeking Goate over the mountaine top

Pursue his Female, yet conceit him free

From wild concupiscence? I prithee tell me,

Does not the genius of thy honor dead

Haunt thee with apparitions like a goast

Of one thou'dst murdrd? dost not often come

To thy bed-side and like a fairy pinch

Thy prostituted limbs, then laughing tell thee

'Tis in revenge for myriads of black tortures

Thy lust inflicted on it?

_Bel_. Have you don?

Give me a little leave then ere my greife

Surround my reason. Witnes, gratious heaven,

Who, were you not offended at some sinn

I have unwittingly comitted, would

Send sacred innocence it selfe to pleade

How much 'tis iniurd in me, that with zeale

Above the love of mothers I have tendred

This misinformd man. Ile not aske the authors

Of this report, I doe forgive them; may

A happier fate direct you to some other

May love you better; and my fate conferr

On me with speed some sudden sepulcher. [_Exit_.

_Bon_. I shall grow childish, too; my passions strive

For my dead love to keepe my greife alive.

[_Exit_.

_Actus Secundus_.

(SCENE 1.)[70]

_Enter Sucket, Crackbie, Grimes_.

_Gr_. Gentlemen, the rarest scene of mirth towards!

_Suc_. Where? how, good _Grimes_?

_Gr_. Oh, the steward, the steward, my fine Temperat steward, did soe

lecture us before my ladie for drinking ... at midnight, has gott the

key of the wine C[ellar from] _Timothie_ the Butler and is gon downe

to make [himself] drunke in pryvate.

_Enter Timothie_.

_Tim_. Gent[lemen], _Grimes_, away, away! I watcht him into t[he Cellar]

when I saw him chose forthe one of the b[ottles] of sacke, and hether is

retyringe with all exp[edition]. Close, close, and be not seene.

_Crac_. Oh, my fine steward!

[_Exeunt_.

_Enter Alexander Lovell with a Bottle of Sacke and a Cup_.

_Lov_. Soe here I may be private, and privacie is best. I am the Steward

and to be druncke in publicke, I say and I sayt, were to give ill

examples. Goe to, I, and goe to; tis good to be merry and wise; an inch

in quietness is better than an ell of sorrow. Goe to and goe to agen,

for I say and I sayt, there is no reason but that the parson may forget

that ere he was clerke[71]. My lady has got a cast of her eye since she

tooke a survey of my good parts. Goe to and goe to, for I say and I

sayt, they are signes of a rising; flesh is frayle and women are but

women, more then men but men. I am puft up like a bladder, sweld with

the wind[72] of love; for go to and go to, I say and I sayt, this love

is a greife, and greife a sorrowe, and sorrows dry. Therefore come

forth, thou bottle of affection[73]; I create thee my companion, and

thou, cup, shalt be my freind. Why, so now,--goe to and goe to: lets

have a health to our Mrss, and first to myne; sweet companion, fill to

my kind freind; by thy leave, freind, Ile begin to my companion: health

to my Mrs! Soe, now my hands in: companion, fill, and heres a health to

my freinds Mrs. Very good, and now I will conclude with yours, my deare

companion: stay, you shall pledge me presently, tis yet in a good hand;

I will pledge both your Mrss first. Goe to and go to,[74] freind; thou

alwayes lookst on me like a dry rascall; give him his liquor; and soe

with my Mrs I conclude. What say you, Companion? ha, do you compare

your Mrs with myne? howes that? such another word and thou darst,

Sirrah! off with your Capp and doe her Reverence! wilt tell me soe? goe

to, I say and I sayt; Ile make better languadge come out of that mouth

of thine, thou wicked Carkasse. Freind, heres to thee:[75] Ile shake

thee, thou empty Rascall, to peeces, and as _Hector_ drew _Achilles_

bout the walls of Troy at his horse tayle, so shalt thou at a doggs

tayle be dragd in vild disgrace throughout the towne. Goe to and goe to,

I say and I sayt; Ile have the dragd, sirr, ah I[le] have the dragd;

perswade me not, good friend; let him yeild me a reason[76] if he can.

I, I, he had need to be squeezd; why tis true, this is one, but not to

purpose. Oh, would you whisper with me? umh, umh, umh, away, Ile heare

no more: why, how now frend? ha, ha, ha, you have got a Cup to much;

umh, goe to and goe to, you can hold no more, I see that, at this time;

let me ene bring you to your chambers.

[_Flings away the bottle and sleeps_.

_Enter Timothy, Grimes, Sucket, Crackby, with flaggons of wine.

Suc_. 'Tis well don, cherish valour.

_Crac_. Creditt me, my Captaine carries fortitude enough for a whole

legion; twas his advice tooke in[77] the _Busse_[?], and at _Mastricht_

his courage did conclude _Papenhams_ overthrow.[78]

_Suc_. Pish, you to farr exemply[fy]. I have bin at some few skermishes,

kild halfe a score or soe; but what of yt? men are but men.

_Tim_. What wines that, fellow _Grimes_?

_Grimes_. Sack by this light, the Emperor of liquors! Captaine, here tis

well keepe of push of pike yet peirce like shott of Cannon: a Cup of

this upon an onslaught, Captain?

_Suc_. Is beveredge for a Generall: I doe use to drinke it when I am

engagd against a squadron or a whole company.

_Grimes_. He meanes of drunkards.

[_Lovell grunts_.

_Suc_. Ha! Cinielaro[?] an ambuscado! see, whos that lyes there

pardue[79]? fort of Mars! my wroth shall eate him up.

_Grimes_. Soe, soe, now softely letts to him: ha, alreadie[80] dead

drunke, as I am vertuous. Assist me gent[lemen]; _Timothy_, hast thou

thy Salvatorie about thee.

_Tim_. Yes, heere, here.[81]

_Grimes_. Quick, quick; make some plasters and clapp em on his face:

here, bind this napkin about his hand; who has a garter, lets see, to

bind it up?

_Suc_. Some blood, my sonn of _Mercury_, were neceseary for consummation

of the jest.

_Crac_. And here, _Grimes_, ty this cloath about his head: oh, for some

blood!

_Grimes_. Here, I have prickt my finger.

_Tim_. Let you and I, Mr. _Crackby_, goe to buffitts for a bloody nose.

_Crac_. No, no, you shall pardon me for that, _Tim_[82]; no, no; no

boyes play.

_Suc_. So, so; now set him in the chaires. Hart of valour! he looks like

a Mapp oth world. Death, what are these?[83]

_Enter Musike_.

_Grimes_. The Town Waites whome I appointed to come and visitt us.

_Suc_. 'Twas well donn: have you ere a good song?

_Tim_. Yes, they have many.

_Suc_. But are they bawdy? come, sir, I see by your simpring it is you

that sings, but do not squeake like a _French_ Organ-pipe nor make faces

as if you were to sing a Dirge. Your fellowes may goe behind the arras:

I love to see Musitions in their postures imitate those ayrey soules

that grace our Cittie Theaters, though in their noats they come as short

of them as _Pan_ did of _Apollo_.

[_Musike_.

_Grimes_. Well, sir, this is indifferent Musicke, trust my judgment.

Sing, boy.

[_A song_.

_Crac_. Now on my life this boy does sing as like the boy[84] at the

_Whitefryers_ as ever I heard: how say you Captain?

_Suc_. I, and the Musicks like theires: come, Sirra, whoes your Poett?

_Crac_. Some mad wag, I warrant him: is this a new song?

_Mus_. Tis the first edition, sir: none else but we had ever coppie

of it.

_Suc_. But you wilbe intreated to let a gent have it?

_Mus_. By no meanes; the author has sworne to the contrary, least it

should grow so wonderous old and turne a Ballad.

_Crac_. Well said, Captain; the tother health, Captain: heres good wine,

good Tobackoe, good everything: had we but a good wench or two twere

excellent.

_Suc_. Great _Alexander_, does not dreame of this, I warrant yee.

_Grimes_. Oh, hees fast enough; heele be ready to cast up his accounts

the easier when my lady calls him.

_Crac_. Come, come; who payes the Musicke? Captain, you have my purse.

_Suc_. Truths a truth from Infidell or Pagan: I am in trust, and that's

beleife, and so it shalbe saved. Pay the Musick? umh, where are they?

let me see, how many's of you, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6: good, can any of you

daunce?

_Mus_. Daunce? Yes, sir, we can shake our legs or soe.

_Suc_. So said so don, brave ladd; come, letts have a daunce, some

daunce and some play.

_Mus_. Anything to please you, noble Captaine.

_Suc_. Lively then, my hearts; some country Jigg or soe. Oh those playes

that I have seene of youre, with their Jiggs[85] ith tayles of them[86]

like your French forces! Death, I am a rorging (roaring?) boy; but,

come, stir your shanks nimbly or Ile hough ye. Strike up there!

[_Daunce_.

_Grimes_. Well don, my hearts; drinke, drinke.

_Suc_. Goe you in, Ile follow you.

_Om[nes]_. Come, Captaine.

_Suc_. Farewell, Steward.

_Mus_. Dee heare, Captaine?

_Suc_. With me, my fine treble knave? umh, thou dost tickle minikin

as nimbly--

_Mus_. We hope your worship will consider our paines?

_Suc_. How, my fine knave? letts see, who were the dauncers?

_Mus_. Come forward there! nay, I told you he was ever bountifull: oh,

good Captaine!

_Suc_. Let me see: I, thou art hart of vallor: thou didst daunce well,

thou deservest--, I say no more: and who played?

_Mus_. Wee.

_Suc_. You? well sayd; you plaid and you daunc'd, you say good; let me

see, halfe a peece or--

_Mus_. Blesse your Captaineship.

_Suc_. You plaid, you say, and you dauncd: umh, well, why then you that

dauncd must pay those that plaid.

_Mus_. How, sir, how?

_Suc_. Ever, ever, whilst you live, _Jarvice_;[87] the dauncers alwayes

payes the musike. Wilt breake custome? No, or there a pawne for you.

--Mr. Steward. Farewell. [_Exit_.

_Mus_. This is your bountifull Captaine! a rope of his bounsing! But

stay, lets play to the steward; it may be when he wakes we may worke

him to't.

_Omnes_. Content, content. [_Musike softe_.

_Lov_. Umh[88], play a healthe: soe; say, it shall goe rounde: goe to,

I say and I sayt, it shall goe round. Umh, where is this fidle? in the

ayre? I can perceave nothing. Where is my kinde friend and my fine

companion? come, we will be friends again; goe to, we will. Umh,

plaistered and bound up? bloody? how comes this? goe too and goe to; if

I have done any mischiefe or bene over valiant in my drinke to kill a

man or soe, why 'twas in my drinke, not I, and let my drinke be hangd

for't; or, I say and I sayt, let um stay till I am drunke againe and

then hange me; I care not, I shall not be sensible of it. Oh this sack!

it makes a coward a _Hector_: the _Greekes_ and _Troians_ drinke no

other; and that and a wench (for theres the divell out) made um cuffe

ten yeares together, till at length when they had bled more than they

coulde drinke they grew sober, the contented Cuckold tooke his wife home

againe and all were good frends[89]. [_Sease Musicke_] But stay, the

musikes husht; I hope theyle appeare; I doe feale no such paine in my

wounds that I had need of musicke to bring me to sleepe. Blesse me whose

this? ha[90]!

_Enter Grimes disguised_.

_Grimes_. How does your worshipp? Mr. Steward, dee feele your selfe at

ease? I am hartely sorry for your misfortune?

_Lov_. Misfortune? ha, what misfortune? now heaven and't be thy will--

_Grimes_. Pray heaven they be alive.

_Lov_. Ha, alive? in the name of drinke what have I don? where did you

find me, ha?

_Grimes_. Why, sir, comming out--umh, umh--

_Lov_. Out with't, man.

_Grimes_. Out of a bad-house, sir.

_Lov_. A Bawdie house, I warrant.

_Grimes_. Yes sir.

_Lov_. Why, now its out.

_Grimes_. I, and tis well your worships out.

_Lov_. Noe, noe, it had bin better had I never gon in; but on, on.

_Grimes_. You were, sir,--as they say, sir--you had gotten a Cup to

much.

_Lov_. Hang Cupps, my friend excepted; goe to; speake plaine; I was

drunke was I?

_Grimes_. Yes, sir; you were not able to stand when you came out, sir?

_Lov_. Out of the Bawdy-house? I beleave thee; nay, I am a right

_Lovell_ I, I look like a shotten herring now for't. _Jone's_ as good

as my lady in the darke wee me. I have no more Roe than a goose in me;

but on to the mischiefe, on.

_Grimes_. You beate the Bawd downe with the Chamber dore and bade her

keepe that for the Reckoning.

_Lov_. Umh, there was witt in my drinke, I perceive; on.

_Grimes_. Then, sir, you tooke up a Spitt.

_Lov_. A Spitt?

_Grimes_. Yes, sir, and broacht one of the wenches out.

_Lov_. How?

_Grimes_. Oh, sir, you made such a hole in her bakside[91] you might

have turnd--

[_Blows his nose_.

_Lov_. What? thy nose int?

_Grimes_. Had I been there it had been at your service.

_Lov_. Thanke thee; thou shouldst have lost nothing by it.

_Grimes_. Then went Tobackoe pipes to wrack, and oh the black potts

sufferd without measure; nay, you swore (and for it paid your twelve

pence) that if you were maior youd come disguisd on purpose to

confou[nd] 'um.

_Lov_. Ist possible I could doe this?

_Grimes_. This, sir? Why you kickd one flat-nosd wench that snuffled,

and swore she was a puritan.

_Lov_. Did not I pay for that oath too?

_Grimes_. No, sir; you bid the Constable keepe reckoning till it came to

a some and you would pay him in totall. So, sir, with the spit in your

hand away you runn, and we after yee, where you met with a roaring

Captain.

_Lov_. Ha, now, now comes the misfortune.

_Grimes_. Then you stopt and stood a while waving to and froe, as in

suspense; at length you fell, with a forward thrust, quite through his

heart.

_Lov_. Ha, through his heart? the Captaines dead then?

_Grimes_. No sir, twas through a silver heart he weares in memory of

his Mrs.

_Lov_. Ime glad of that: thou strukst me through the heart with thy

newes.

_Grimes_. You being downe, on fell the Captain like a tyrannicall

_Dutch_ man of war that shewes no mercy to the yeelding enemy, and ere

we could bring succor gave you these wounds, which being dark we brought

you home as privately as possible, sett you to sleepe and here stayd

till your waking.

_Lov_. Yare honest fellowes; goe to and go to, I say and I sait agen,

yare honest fellowes and shall not be unrewarded: looke you, theres for

you--and be but sylent in't.

_Grimes_. As is my instrument, Sir. Coods me! what, have they torne away

the back of your satteen Doublet? the Canvas is seene.

_Lov_. Umh, no, but they have stolne my velvet Jerkin.

_Grimes_. I, and dam'd your Dublet.

_Lov_. Tis well; goe; thanks; goe, Ile see you shortly; you and your

Companie shall play at my ladyes wedding. I say no more, goe to; I love

you and I thanke you,

_Grimes_. I thanke you, good Mr. Steward. [_Discovers_

_Lov_. Whoes this? _Grimes_?

_Grimes_. Even he that has thus begrimd yee, my fine drunken Steward. I

can cure you, toe; come, let me be your Surgion.

_Lov_. Thou shalt be my hangman first, Rascall.

_Grimes_. You wonnot murder? helpe Captain, Mr. _Crackby, Tim_!

_Enter Omnes_.

_Omnes_. How now! how now! what's the matter?

_Lov_. Whoop! hell broke loose! tis good to shun the Divell.

[_Exit_.

_Grimes_. Not if you meet him in the likenes of a bottle of Sack, good

Steward.[92]

_Tim_. Why this is excellent.

_Suc_. Grimes, let me hugg thee, thou sonn of witt.

_Grimes_. Nay, letts not leave him thus.

_Crac_. Leade on, weele follow.

[_Exeunt Omnes_.

_Finis Actus Secundi_.

_Actus Tertius_.

(SCENE 1.)

_Enter Sir Geffry and Lady_.

_Sir Geff_. But I beseech you, Madam; what greater accession[93] can you

wish then me for husband? I have it here thats sattisfaction for the

lustiest widdow twixt this and London. Say, will you love me? Ime in

hast and hate demurrs; if you refuse I must seeke out: I have a little

moysture and would be loth to hav't dride for want of exercise.--What

say you, lady?

_Lady_. Sir, for your love I thanke you; for your wealth

I want it not; but yet I doe not find

A disposicon in my selfe to marriage.

_Sir Geff_. That will not serve my turne; I am no knight

Who weares the spurr of honour without Rowells

To prick a woman forwards: I ride post

To Marriage and resolve at the next stage

To take my Inn up. You have here

Two beautifull young gallants to your daughters:

Since youle not be my wife yet be my mother;

Ile marry any of them, which you please,

And hood her with the bagg [badge?] of honor. Lady,

What say you to this motion.

_Lady_. My daughters wills are not in my command:

If you can purchase either of their hearts,

My free consent shall follow.

_Sir Geff_. Nay, then, they will fall out for me, Madam,

I am most fortunate in atcheiving virgins.

_Enter Bonville_.

Save you, sweet youth, the bewties of your Mrs.

Crowne your desires. Are you a suiter?

_Bon_. Madam, I have occasions of importance

Wishes a little privacy with you.

_Lady_. With me, sweet Mr. _Bonvill? Sir Geffrey_,

Pray you vouchsafe your absence; at more leasure

We shall discourse.

_Sir Geff_. With all my heart: Ile to the wenches.

[_Exit_.

_Bon_. Madam we are alone?

_Lady_. You did desire we should.

_Bon_. But are you sure none can oreheare us.

_Lady_. Unles we be to loud:

What mooves you to require this secresie?

_Bon_. I come to aske a question, which the winds;

If I could deafe them, should not heare for feare

Their repercussive Eccho should declare it

To all our infamies.

_Lady_. What ist, I pray you?

_Bon_. Your daughter whom I was a servant to,

--I must deliver it in the homeliest phrase--

Is she dishonest?

_Lady_. You urge a repetition, gentle sir,

Of a sad truth: she is.

_Bon_. It cannot be

In reason comprehensible a mother

Should for a stranger blurr her daughters fame,

Were it untruth. I am confirmd; this favor

Transcends requitall: if a man misled

By error gainst the diety, gross enough

For his damnation, owe a gratitude

To his converter, I am engag'd to you

For my delivery from her.

_Lady_. 'Twas no more

Then what my honor obligd me

And my respect to vertue, which in you

I should have murdred by my silence; but

I have not greife enough left to lament

The memory of her folly: I am growne

Barren of teares by weeping; but the spring

Is not yet quite exhausted. [_Weeps_.

_Bon_. Keepe your teares

Lest the full clouds, ambitious that their drops

Should mix with yours, unteeme their big wombd laps

And rayse a suddeine deluge. Gratious madam,

The oftner you reherse her losse the more

You intimate the gaine I have acquird

By your free bounty, which to me appeares

So farr transcending possibility

Of satisfaction that, unles you take

My selfe for payment, I can nere discharge

A debt so waytie.

_Lady_. Ist come to this?

You speake misteriously; explaine your meaning.

_Bon_. To consecrate, with that devotion

That holy Hermits immolate[94] theire prayers,

My selfe the adorer of your vertues.

_Lady_. Are you serious?

_Bon_. No scrupulous penitent, timerous that each thought

Should be a sinn, does to the priest lay ope

With halfe that verity his troubled soule

That I doe mine. I love you: in that word

Include all ceremony. No sooner had

Your information disingagd my heart

Of honoring your daughter, but amazd

At the immensnesse of the benefit

Your goodness had cast on me, I resolvd

This way to show my gratitude.

_Lady_. But dare you,

Knowing the daughter vicious, entertaine

Affection to the mother?

_Bon_. Dare I when

I have bin long opresd with a disease,

Wish pleasing health? theres vertue enough here

To excite beleife in _Moores_ that only women

Have heavenly soules.

_Lady_. This is admirable:

Did my intention tend to love, as soone

I should embrace your motion in that kind

As any others, wert but to afford

Some small lustracon for the wrong my daughter

Intended you; nay, to confesse my thought,

I feele a strong propension in my selfe

To yeild to you; but I am loath,[95]--your youth

Will quickly loath me.

_Enter Y[oung] Marlowe and Thurston_.

_Mar_. Madam, this Gent[leman]

Desires to have you know him for your son:

Tis he my sister _Clariana_, with your licence,

Wishes for husband.

_Lady_. A proper Gent[leman]; Ime happy she has made

So iuditious an election.[96]

You are very welcome, sir: conduct him in, Sonn.

[_Exeunt Young Marlowe and Thurston_.

_Bon_. Persuade me I can hate

Sleepe after tedious watching, or reiect

The wholesome ayre when I've bin long choakd up

With sicklie foggs: sooner shall--

_Lady_. Desist from protestations, or employ them

Mong those who have no more discretion

Then to beleive them.

_Bon_. How, Lady?

_Lady_. You can in Justice now no more appeach

Our mutabillities, since you have provd

So manifestly [in]constant.

_Bon_. These are arts

Orewhelme my dull capacity with horror:

Inconstant!

_Lady_. Are the light faines erected on the tops

Of lofty structures stedfast, which each wind

Rules with its motion? credulous man, I thought

My daughters reall vertues had inspired thee

With so much confidence as not to loose

The estimation of her honor for

My bare assertion, without questioning

The time or any the least circumstance

That might confirm't. I did but this to try

Your constancy: farewell. [_Exit_.

_Bon_. What witch had duld my sense

That such a stuped Lethurgie should sease

My intellectuall faculties they could not

Perceive this drift! If she be virtuous,

As no man but an heretick to truth

Would have imagind, how shall I excuse

My slanderous malice? my old fire renewes

And in an instant with its scortching flames

Burnes all suspicon up.

_Enter Belisea_.

_Bel_. Peace attend you.

_Bon_. What Cherubim has left the quire in heaven

And warbles peacefull Anthems to the earth?

It is her voyce, that to all eares speakes health,

Only to mine. Come charitable mist

Hide me, or freindly wherlewind rap me hence,

Or her next accent, like the thunderers, will

Strike me to dust.

_Bel_. Sir, I come not

With resolution (though my innocence

May justly arme [me]) to declare my truth;

For I am going where your slander cannot

(Had it bin greater) blast me. I desire

This for my past love, that youle retaine

Your wrong opinion to yourselfe, not labour

To possesse others with it, to disgrace

Our yet unspotted family.

_Bon_. If you want

A partner in your greife, take me along

That can teach you and all the world true Sorrow.

_Bel_. Twas not don well to brand my spotles name

With Infamy; but to deride me is

Inhumaine, when I only come to tell you

Ile send my prayers on charities white wings

To heaven for your prosperity.--You greive

For what? for your deliverance from a strumpet?

_Bon_. No, but that my raving fancy should direct

My trecherous tongue with that detested name

To afflict thy unblemishd purity, _Belisea_.

I do confes my error was an act

Soe grosse and heathnish that its very sight

Would have inforcd a Crocodile to weepe

Drops as sincere as does the timorous heart

When he ore heares the featherd arrow sing

His funerall Dirge.

_Bel_. Can this be possible?

_Bon_. No sismatick, reduc'd to the true faith,

Can more abhorre the Error he has left

Than I do mine. I do beleive thee chast

As the straight palme; as absolute from spots

As the immaculate Ermine, who does choose,

When he is hunted by the frozen _Russe_,

To meete the toyle ere he defile the white

Of his rich skin. What seas of teares will serve

To expiatt the scandall I have throwne

On holy Innocence?

_Bel_. Well, I forgive you;

But ere I seale your pardon I in[j]oyne

This as a pennance: you shall now declare

The author of your wrong report.

_Bon_. Your mother.

_Bel_. How! my mother?

_Bon_. No creature else

Could have inducd me to such a madnes.

_Bel_. Defend me gracious virtue! is this man

Not desperate of remission, that without

Sense of compu[n]ction dares imagine lies

Soe horrible and godlesse? My disgrace

Was wrong sufficient to tempt mercie, yet

Cause twas my owne I pardond it; but this

Inferd toth piety of my guiltless mother

Stops all indulgence.

_Bon_. Will you not heare me out?

_Bel_. Your words will deafe me;

I doe renounce my affection to you; when

You can speake truth, protest you love agen.

[_Exit_.

_Bon_. Contempt repaid with scorne; tis my desert;

Poyson soone murders a love wounded heart.

[_Exit_.

(SCENE 2.)

_Enter Belisea, Clariana and Thorowgood_.

_Bel_. You may declare your will[97] here are no eares

But those I will not banish, were your busines

More secret.

_Tho_. Lady, I come to free

My worthy freind and your owne servant, _Bonvill_,

From an uniust suspition your conceite

Retaines of him. Your mother did employ me

In the unlucky message that pronouncd you

Empty of honor.

_Bel_. Has your worthles freind

Hird you to sweare this?

_Tho_. I'me none that live

By selling oathes.

_Bel_. Ile scarce believ't; he shall not

With all his cunning policie regaine

My good opinion of him. Sir, you cannot

Doe a more pleasing office then to leave me:

I do not love to heare of him.

_Tho_. Your pleasure rules me. [_Exit_.

_Cla_. _Belisea_, you did ill

Not to heare out the Gent[leman].

_Bel_. Prethe why?

His owne confession does appeach him one

In the conspiracy against my honor.

He sayes my mother was the originall

Of _Bonviles_ slaunder; and how impious

Twere for a child to thinke so, filiall duty

Instructs my knowlidge.

_Cla_. Be not confident;

Your piety may misleade you. Though your mother,

Shees passion like to us; we had it from her.

Ile say no more; the event will testifie

Whoes in the fault.[98]

_Enter Sucket and Crackby_.

_Suc_. Be not abashd; a little impudence is requisite;

Observe me, with what a garbe and gesture martiall

I will beseige their fortresses.

_Bel_. Who sent these fooles to trouble us?--Gent[lemen],

We have some conference will admit no audience

Besides ourselves.

We must desire you to withdraw, or give us

Leave to do soe.

_Suc_. Men of warr are not soe easily put to a retreat; it suites not

with their repute.

_Cla_. Heele fight with us, sister: weed best procure him bound toth

peace.

_Crac_. Ladies, I must no more endure repulse;

I come to be a suiter.

_Bel_. For what?

_Crac_. Why, that you would with Judgment overlooke

This lovely countenance.

_Cla_. The hangman shall doe't sooner.

_Crac_. If you knew

How many bewtious gentlewomen have sued

To have my picture--

_Cla_. To hang at their beds head for a _memento mori_--

_Crac_. You would regard it with more curiosity.

There was a merchants daughter the other day

Runn mad at sight of itt.

_Cla_. It scared her from her witts: she thought the

divell had haunted her.

_Suc_. Valour deserves regard, myne shall propugne

Your bewty gainst all opposers.

_Bel_. Alasse! mine is so meane,

None will contend with it, it needs no champions.

_Crac_. Contemne me not, lady; I am--

_Cla_. A most egregious asse.

_Crac_. Most nobly propagatted; my father was a man

Well fu[rnish'd] with white and yellow mettall.

_Cla_. I lay my life a Tinker.

_Crac_. And in his parish of account.

_Cla_. A Scavenger.

_Bel_. Is it a badge of your profession

To be uncivell?

_Suc_. Uncivell!

Noe; what is in other men uncivill

In us is resolution; therefore yeild:

I am invincible, flesh cannot stand

Before me.

_Bel_. It must be drunke then.

_Cla_. I am not ith humour now

To laugh, or else Ide not dismisse him yet.

Good Mr. _Crackby_, does your wisdome thinke

That I can love you?

_Crac_. My worth deserves it.

_Cla_. Well said, impudence.

Goe, get you home toth Cittie; goe solicitt

Some neighbors daughter; match with _Nan_ your Schoolefellow

With whome you usd to walk to _Pimblicoe_[99]

To eate plumbe cakes and creame,--one of your parish,

Good what-doe-you-lack.

_Crac_. This is offensive to

My reputation.

_Cla_. You shall heare more on't:

When thou art married, if the kind charity

Of other men permitt thee to geet thee children

That call thy wife mother, bring them up

To people shopps and cheat for 18d,

The pretious youth that fathers them.

Walke, walke, you and your Captaine _Huff_ to _London_,

And tell thy mother how thou has't sped i'th country,

And let her moane thee.

_Crac_. Captaine, we must give place; these girles are firebrands,

And we as straw before them.

_Suc_. They may stand

In neede of valour.

[_Exeunt Suc. and Crac_.

_Enter Thurston_.

_Cla_. Have you oreheard us? these are the lads will do't,

When 20 such as you will be cast off.

_Thu_. Like a bob'd[100] Hawke.--Mrs, if I mistake not,

Your mother does inquire for you.

_Bel_. I will attend her pleasure. [_Exit_.

_Cla_. Doe not goe, wench; we shall scarce be honest.

_Thu_. Love, is it time, after the services

I have perform'd, to have some salary?

Noe labourer works without his hier; I would

Be satisfied when you determine we

Shall end our hopes in marriage.

_Cla_. I have lookt for this month in my Calender

And find that marriage is prohibited.

_Thu_. It is not Lent nor Advent;[101] if it were

The Court is not so strickt but 'twill dispense

With freinds, and graunt a licence.

_Cla_. Whole be bound

With you that theres no hindrance but we may

Be lawfully espoused?

_Thu_. Ime not so barren

Of freinds but I shall find security

For what will nere be question'd.

_Cla_. It may be soe; but one who calculated

My birth did warne me to abstaine from marriage

Til I was twenty.

_Thu_. You're no _Atlanta_; if you be, Ile play

_Hippomanes_ and over runn you.

_Cla_. You'd scarce catch me,

Though you had _Venus_ apples to seduce

My covetous eyes. Henceforth Ide have you leave

Your love to me.

_Thu_. I must leave to live then.

Why doe you say soe?

_Cla_. Cause it is [un]iust

You should mispend affection on her

Who is incapeable of it.

_Thu_. You'd faine wrest

A new expence of complement from me:

If you delight to heare your praise, Ile hire

Some mercenary [poet][102] to comend

In lofty verse your bewty.

_Cla_. You are merry:

My humor is not specious; we must know

A further distance.

_Thu_. Wherefore, pray?

Our eyes are no more poysonous then they were.

_Cla_. Yes, they infect reciprocall.

_Thu_. This language

Is not accustomd; pray, tell me how

My presence is offensive, and Ile shun you[103]

As I would doe my fate. You are not serious:

My innocence assures me my deserts

Can chalenge no such usage.

_Cla_. Tis confest; but we

Are like thinne christall glasses that will crack

By touching one another: I coniure thee

By all our past love, from this parting minute

Nere to behold me more. I dare not venter

My frailty with thee.

_Thu_. What immodesty

Has my demeaner uttred you should doubt

Ravishing from me?

_Cla_. Thats not it, but cause

I would not tempt my destinie: thy sight

Would inflame marble, much more me whose heart

Is prompt enough to fly into thy breast

And leave mine empty. But 'tmust not remaine

In that lone habitation, least a curse,

A fearefull one, sease on mee.

_Thu_. Can there be

Curses more horrid, incident to earth

For its past Sinns, then would depend on you

For such a bold presumption as your breatch

Of faith would be.

_Cla_. Our tyrant fate has found

Yet uninvented torments to expresse

Our loyall soules. O, _Thurston_, thou wert never

--Not when our mutuall freindships might have taught

The constant turtles amity--more deare

To me then now. I could, as well as then,

Peruse love's dictats in thy amorous cheeks,

Enioy the pressure of thy modest lipp;

But Ime enioynd by powerfull menaces

T'infring my wonted use and to disclaime

My vowes to thee.

_Thu_. If this be possible,

What will become of earth? men will no more

Respect Society or strive to save

Humanity alive: henceforth theyle seeke

For lost fidelity on Caves or topps

Of untrodd Rocks, and plight their trothes to beasts;

Commix with them and generate a race

Of creatures, though less rationall, yet more

Indude with truth. O _Clariana_, can

There be a motive able to convert

This pretious Christall temple, built for purity

And goodnes adoration, to a faine

For Idoll falshoods worship? But I cannot

Labour my wandring Judgment to beleife

Thou speakst thy meaning. If I have not lovd

With that essential perfectnes thy worth

That man could doe, in charity declare

My Ignorant defect, and Ile amend it

With more then zealous industry.

_Cla_. Tis vaine:

You may as easily penetrate the cloudes

With a soft whisper, as my eares, then which

Noe thunders deafer. _Thurston_, tis not cause

I have in the intemperate heate of blood

Given up my soule to a new choyce, that breeds

This soddaine mutability: I will

Preserve my affection as inviolate to you

As Anchorites their vowes, and in my grave

Interr my virgin glory. Teares will not

Permitt more conference: fare you well; Ile keepe

My passion up till I have none to weepe. [_Exit_.

_Thu_. Shees gon! What vapor which the flattring sunn

Exhales to heaven as to create a starr,

Yet throwst, a fading meteor, to the earth,

Has falne like me? Divinity, that tells

Us there are soules in women, Ile no more

Credit thy dubious _Theorems_ nor thinke

Thy lawes astring us to preserve our faith.

Let the nice Casuists, that dispute each clause

Belongs to conscience with a[l]ternate sense,

Dispense with breach of promise and prescribe

Equivocacons to evade all oathes

Without offending, or shees damnd.

_Enter Lovell_.

_Lov_. Well, Companion, at my friends Intreatie I am content to be

reconsyld; but have a care, goe to, ha, oh ho, youle[104] ... more; why,

goe to then ... pledge the companion ... heeres to thee: what, what!

_Thu_. Heres one perchance will satisfie me.

Sir, your habit speaks yer understanding:

Please you resolve me one thing which disturbes

The quiet of my conscience.

_Lov_. Revenge may slumber but can never sleep:

He that lets slip an Injury thats done

Takes the next course to draw a greater on.

_Thu_. You counsell well. I pray, in all the volumes

Your learning has perusd, did you ere find

Any conclusion that allowd it lawfull

To breake an oath?

_Lov_. If she neglect and throw[105] disgrace on thee,

Fly't thou as much and be thy scorne as free.

_Thu_. An Oracle speakes in him; but, pray, tell me

Ist lawfull then to breake an oath?

_Lov_. Though time prolongs, we cannot style it sloath:

My vowes are firme; hees damd that breaks an oath.

_Thu_. Good, good, agen: but the oath I treat on,

Is of another kind: tis to a woman.

_Lov_. It could not be her fault; there's a mistake in't.

_Thu_. None o'my life, theres none.

_Lov_. Let me see, let me see:

No, twas not hers, twas _Grimeses_ knavery.

_Thu_. Ha, whether did wild fancy lead my apprehension.

He minds me not but is in disputation

With his owne thoughts.

_Lov_. Wilt thou pledge me ii cuppes? Why, goe to and goe to, then.

Ha to thee, ha, sirra _Grimes_!

--When man gainst man conspire to doe evill,

For what Society is a fitt!

_Thu_. The Devill. [_Claps him on the shoulder_.

_Lov_. Oh helpe, helpe![106] [_Exit_.

_Enter Lady_.

_Lady_. I hope, sir,

Noe occasion offerd in my house

Breedes your distast; I should be sorry if

It be soe, and conceald from me.

_Thu_. Your goodnes

Is to nice ore me; Ime exceeding well;

Only some erring cogitations

Trouble my braine a little.

_Lady_. Tis much pitty

Distraction should have roome in you; I would

Not for the love you beare my daughter, have you

Be discont[ent]ed here.

_Thu_. And your daughter

Repayes me kindly fort.

_Lady_. Surely her breeding

Affords her better manners then to iniure

A gent[leman] of your deservings?

_Thu_. Alas, she has not:

Twas but an unkindness triviall

Mong freinds not worth the nameing.

_Lady_. It was to much

Wert but an ill looke. If I may so far,

Without immodesty, entreat the knowledge

Of what it was Ile chide her for't. Pray, sir,--

We women are bold suitors; by your looke

It is no meane perplexity her folly

Has cast upon your temper,--pray, disclose it;

And ift be anything the obedience

She owes to me may countermand, she shall

Repent her error.

_Thu_. Your humanity

Would wrest a secret from me, though my life

Consisted ith concealment: she has abolishd

Her protestations to me, murdred vowes

Which like the blood of Innocents will pull

Cloudes of black vengeance on her, for no cause

I can imagine but her humor; banishd

Me her society and sight for ever.[107]

_Lady_. Tis above wonder: could I as well rule

Her will as her exterior actions,

She should not thus reject you; but I cannot

Limitt her mind, compell her to affect

Against her liking. If perswations may

Reduse her, Ile endevour it.

_Thu_. Twilbe needles;

I am resolvd to meet her in revolt,

Hug infidelity with as strong a faith

As she can possible; and if mans mallice

Can passe a womans, my dispight shall winne

Preheminence. I will inquire out one

By nature framd in scorne of bewty, and

In your perfidious daughters presence give her

That heart which she reiected.

_Lady_. Twere pitty

Your passion should undoe you; you may find

Matches of noble quality: my daughter

In worth's inferior to you, yet I doubt not

But my perswasive oratorie may gaine you

Her forfeited affection.

_Thu_. Let her reserve it

For them who sue to inioy it; Ile conferr

My fancy on a Negro new reclaim'd

From prostitution; sacrifice my youth

To bedridd age, ere reinthrall my heart

To her insulting bewty.

_Lady_. Twould be a maime to your discretion

To abjure a certaine and a pleasing good

For an uncertaine harme you would impose

In malice on another. Yo'are a man

In whome the glorious soule of goodnes moves

With such a spacious posture that no woman,

But such a squemish baby as my daughter,

Would be most fortunate to enrich their choyse

With one so much deserving.

_Thu_. He experience

Your affirmation: could you love me?

_Lady_. What

I spoake was a contingent supposition

What others might doe, but not argument

I meant to love you.

_Thu_. But I know you will;

I see a pleasing augury in your looks

Presages mercy; and those eyes, whose lustre

The light (that scornes privation) cannot equall,

Darts beames of comfort on me.

_Lady_. Twould be rare

Could you perswade me to't, I can find

No such propension in my selfe; beware

Least in this wildnes you ingage your heart

To one cannot accept it.

_Thun_. Pish!

Ime sure you will: humanity forbids

Refusall of my affection, which shall be

As constant as insep[a]rable heate

To elementall fire.--I'me soddaine, lady,

In my resolve, but firme as fate.

_Lady_. Surely,

You are not well.

_Thu_. You are deceivd; I am

Exceeding well yett; all my faculties

Retaine their wonted motion; but Ime like

A new recoverd patient, whose relapse

Admitts no helpe of phisick: in your love

Consists my hope, futurity of health;

And you have too much charity to suffer

Perdition overwhelme me.

_Lady_. Your confidence

Workes much uppon my lenity; but twould

Occasion scandall; every one would judge

I did supplant my daughter, should I yeild

To your desines.

_Thu_. Let the censorious world

Fright those with harelipd Calumnie whose guilt

Merritts detraction; your pure innocence

No feind dares vitiatt.

_Lady_. You have prevaild.

_Thu_. Ile take you at your word, a holy kisse

Shall seale the contract. [_kisse_.

Avaunt! stand of! she has poysond me, her lips

Are sault as sulpher, and her breath infects,

Noe scorpions like it.

_Lady_. What ayles you, Sir?

_Thu_. Ha, ha, ha!

Those who imagine such prodigious mischiefes

Should be more cunning then to be ore reacht

By puisne[108] cosnage; Have you no more judgement

Then to beleive I lov'd you.

_Lady_. Doe you not love me then?

_Thu_. Can a man

Robd of a Jewell deare to him as breath

Affect the theife, O murdresse?--for that title

Best suites thy impious quality, since thy curse,

Thy cruell curse, imposd uppon my love,

Has massacred two of the faithfulst hearts

Affection ere united. Though your lust

Desir'd smooth youth to sate it, piety

Might have reclamd you for attempting me,

Your daughter's interest.--Ile not rayle

Cause tis unman[ner]ly,[109] untill you find

What 'tis to cause true lovers prove unkind.

[_Exit_.

_Enter Alexan_.

_Lady_. Was I a sleepe? What transitory dreame

Deceivd my sense? did I not here my love

Protest affection? no, it was some feind

Vested in his mortallity, whome hell

Sent to abuse my weaknes.

_Lov_. She has bin sure tormented with that furie which cla[pt] me on my

shoulder. She talkes of Hell, love and affection. Ha, goe to and goe to!

the old Knight my Mrs. Goast, I hope does not haunt the house.

_Lady_. Twas he, Ime certaine on't; I felt his lips,

And they were flesh; they breath'd on mine a warmth

Temperate as westerne kisses which the morne

Weaps liquid drops to purchase. This confirmes

It was no apparition that contemnd

My willingnes, but he, his reall selfe,

Mockt my integrity: he must not passe soe,

To blase abroad my infamy.

_Lov_. Madam, feare nothing, be not troubled; the Goast meant no harme

to you, uppon my life he did not; Goe to and goe to, I say and I sayt,

he did not. He did appeare to me--your love, your husband, my old

Mr.--here, clapt me on the shoulder, as his old custome was still when

he usd to talke with me familiarly.

_Lady_. But, Sirrah, what familiarity

Have you with any of my privasies?

Sausie groome, practise your ancient duty.

_Enter Young Mar_.

_Y. M_. What meanes this fury, Madam?

_Lady_. O, deare boy,

What haplesse fate exposd thee to the veiw

Of this [sic] sad mothers sorrowes? but I charge thee,

As thou respects thy duty, not to question

The cause of my distemper; my iust feares

Prohibits thee the knowledge of it.

_Lov_. Why, Sir, she has seene the Divell.

_Lady_. Ha!

_Lov_. Nay, Madam, I have don; they say the Divell has no power ore a

Drunkard; once more Ile run the hazard.

_Y. M_. Whoe, what is he? speake,

For heavens sake, speake: were he defensd with clouds

Or circled with unsteadfast boggs, my rage

Should cut a passage to him.

_Lady_. Thou strait will grow

More passionate then I: goe to your chamber,

Ile but dispatch these gentlemen.

[_Exit Mar_.

_Enter Sir Geffery, Crackby, [Suc]ett [and Bun]ch.

_Sir Gef_. O here she is.--Lady, I and my Nephew, being your good

neighbors and of the worshipfull, I of the Country, he of the Cittie,

have long desird a match with your daughters, but they are coy, so

childish, so unmannerly; I know not how to terme them: they dispise who

worship offers them, they may[110] hereafter doe worse and have worse,

madam.

_Crac_. My uncle tells your ladiship the truth:

We are noe peasants[111] or unhonorable

To be affronted with indignities.

_Suc_. Here are men that has seene service.

_Bunch_. At a mustring or ith Artillery[112] garden.

_Lady_. 'Twas past my pleasure, good Sir _Geffery_, you have had such

harch entertainement from them: henceforth Ile lay my charge upon them

to be more tractable.--Mr. _Alexander_, goe call my daughters hither.

_Lov_. She turnes againe.--I shall with all celerity wish them to

approach. [_Exit_.

_Sir Gef_. Certainly, Madam, I can see no cause

Wherefore at first you might not, without putting

My Knighthood to this trouble, have matched with me

Your selfe; it had been somewhat fitter.

_Enter Belisea and Clariana_.

_Bel_. Are these fooles here?

_Lady_. Minions you might have expresd more kindnes

In your behaviour to these Gent[lemen]

Whom my strict caire provided for your husbands.

_Bel_. I hope they cannot blame us, we have usd them

With that respect our modesties allowd.

_Lady_. Your peevish nicenes settle your affections

To a more fayre demeaner towards their worth,

Or you shall seeke a Mother and a portion.

_Crac_. Nay, if you take away their portions, Ile

Meddle no further with them.

_Lady_. You both heare

My not to be revoaked intention

Respect this knight and his nephew in the way

Of marriage, or I shall take another order with you.

[_Exit_.

_Cla_. Was it you, good knight of the ill favord Countenance,

Who procurd us these loving admonitions?

_Sir Gef_. Nay, and you begin agen, Ile call your Ladie Mother.

_Suc_. I do protest unto you, beauteous Lady,

You do not cast a favorable aspect.

_Bel_. I am no Plannet.

_Crac_. Captaine, you doe me palpable affront:

She is the election of my understanding.

_Sir Geff_. Retort not so abstrusly.--Will you disdain

The good of honour, condiscend to me

And youthfull write me, lady, in your stile,

And to each thread of thy sun-daseling h[air]

Ile hang a pearle as orient as the gemmes

The eastern Queenes doe boast of. When thou walk[st],

The country lasses, crownd with gorgeous flo[w]res,

Shall fill each path and dance their rural jigs

In honour of this bewty.

_Cla_. Hey day, where did you borrow this? Sir, youle beg[one]: I feele

the fitt a coming; I shall rayle instantly.

_Crac_. Baffeld before my Mrs? Death to fame! Captaine, good Captaine.

_Suc_. Pish, I doe but drill her

For you, friend; you shall have her, say your Captaine

Sayes it, whose words doe ventilate destruction

To all who do oppugn what they designe.

_Sir Gef_. Come, you shall love me.

_Cla_. I cannot choose: goe, get you home, antiquity; thinke [of]

heaven, say thy prayers often for thy old sinns and let [thy] maid diett

thee with warme broathes least some cold appoplexis sease thee before

thou art prepard.

_Sir Gef_. Madam! madam! shees in her old fitt!

_Cla_. Call her, I care not if she heare me, I councell better than your

physician: every night drinke a good cup of muscadine,[113]--you will

not have moysture left to ingender spitle to cleanse thy mouth ith

morning. Goe, set thy feath[er] right, good mooncalfe[114]: you have

your answeare.

_Sir Gef_, Contemne an old man and his feather, _Bunch_,

Ile begon, _B[unch]_.

[_Exeunt Sir Gef. and Bunch_.

_Cla_. Will you goe?--Sister, I have shakd mine off.

What stayes this nifle[115] for?

_Crac_. Nay, call me what you will, she is my prise,

And I will keepe her.--Captaine, to her Captaine.

_Suc_. You must not part thus, Mrs; here are men

Has scapd--

_Cla_. The Gallowes.

_Suc_. Ile rigg you up; although you were a Carack

I shall find tackling for you.

_Bel_. You are uncivill; pray, desist.

_Crac_. Not kisse a gentleman? a pretty ring this same:

I have a mind to it and I must have it.

_Bel_. You will not robb me of it?

_Suc_. I will intreate this glove which shall adorne

In fight my burgonett.

_Cla_. Some honest hostesse

Ere this has made a chamber pot of it.

_Crac_. It is some rivalls ring and I will have it

To weare in spight of him.

_Bel_. Helpe, Sister, helpe.

_Enter Bonvill and Grimes_.

_Bon_. She shall not neede. It is my ring the villaine desires soe

importunatly: what untuterd slave art thou that darst inforce aught

from this gentlewoman.

_Crac_. Whats that to you? you might have come before me.

_Bel_. What would you have don?

_Crac_. Entreated you againe to have come behind me.

_Bel_. O, my _Bonvill_, so happy a benefit no hand but thine could have

administred. Thou save[d]st the Jewell I esteeme next to my honour,--the

Ring thou gavest me.

_Crac_. Nay, if you have more right to her than I, takt I pray you:--

would I were off with a faire broken pate.

_Suc_. Is your life hatefull to you?

_Bon_. Why doe you inquire, good puff past?

_Suc_. My blade

Is of the _Bilbo_[116] mettle; at its splendor

My foes does vanish.

_Bon_. Ile try that presently;--feare nothing, ladyes.

_Suc_. Death! now I thinke out, I did breake my blade this morning on

foure that did waylay me: Ile goe fetch another, and then I am for you.

_Crac_. Take myne, Captaine.

_Suc_. Hold your peace, be wise: that fellow

In the blew garment has a countenance

Presages losse of limme if we encounter.--

Ile meet you presently.

_Bon_. It shall not serve your turne yet: Ile not blunt

My sword upon such stock fish. _Grimes_, bestow

Thy timber on them.

_Grimes_. Come, sir. [_beats them_.

_Suc_. Take me without a weapon? this cudgell sure

Is Crabb tree, it tasts so sourely.

[_Exeunt_.

_Bel_. Oh, my Deare _Bonvill_.

_Bon_. Mistrisse, I sent an advocate to plead

My guiltless cause: you, too[117] severe a Judge

Forbad him audience; I am therefore come

Once more to prove my innocence.

_Cla_. Come, without Ceremony

Forgive you her and she shall pardon you

Most willingly.

_Bon_. Can you have soe much mercy,

You soe much goodnes?

_Bel_. Noe soule long tir'd with famine, whom kind death

Has new enfranchisd from the loathed flesh,

With happier expedition enters heaven

Then mine thy bosome, _Bonvill_. Let our loves,

Like plants that by their cutting downe shoot up,

Straiter and taller flourish: we are now

Inseperable.

_Cla_. Your good fates, though I

Repine not at them, makes my unhappy fortunes

Appeare farr more disastrous.

_Bon_. Whats thy misfortune?

_Bel_. Alas, my mother has crost her in her affection as she did us.

_Bon_. She shall

Crosse ours no more. _Belisia_, if youle

Be ruld by me you shall away with me;

None but you sister shall be privy to it,

And sheele keepe Councell.

_Bel_. Ile goe any whither

To enjoy thy presence; theres no heaven without it.

_Bon_. You shalbe advertisd where she remaines,

And certifie us how your mother takes it:

When we are married we shall live to thanke you.

_Cla_. Will you leave me, then?

_Bel_. Prethee, poore heart, lament not; we shall meet,

And all these stormes blowe over.

_Cla_. Your tempests past; mine now begins to rise

But Ile allay its violence with my eyes.

_Exeunt omnes_.

_Actus Quartus_.