_Enter Ancient, crying Brooms, and after him severally,
four Souldiers, crying other things._ Boroskie _and Gent,
over the Stage observing them_.
I. SONG.
Anc. _Broom, Broom, the bonnie Broom,
Come buy my Birchen Broom,
I'th' Wars we have no more room,
Buy all my bonnie Broom,
For a kiss take two;
If those will not do,
For a little, little pleasure,
Take all my whole treasure:
If all these will not do't,
Take the Broom-man to boot.
Broom, Broom, the bonnie Broom._
II. SONG.
1 Soul. _The Wars are done and gone,
And Souldiers now neglected, Pedlers are,
Come Maidens, come alone,
For I can show you handsome, handsome ware;
Powders for, for the head,
And drinks for your bed,
To make ye blith and bonney.
As well in the night we Souldiers can fight,
And please a young wench as any._
2 Soul. _I have fine Potato's,
Ripe Potato's._
III. SONG.
3 Soul. _Will ye buy any Honesty, come away,
I sell it openly by day,
I bring no forced light, nor no Candle
To cozen ye; come buy and handle:
This will shew the great man good,
The Tradesman where he swears and lyes,
Each Lady of a noble bloud,
The City dame to rule her eyes:
Ye are rich men now: come buy, and then
I'le make ye richer, honest men._
IV. SONG.
4 Sol. _Have ye any crackt maiden-heads, to new leach or mend?
Have ye any old maiden-heads to sell or to change?
Bring 'em to me with a little pretty gin,
I'le clout 'em, I'le mend 'em, I'le knock in a pin,
Shall make 'em as good maids agen,
As ever they have been._
_Bor._ What means all this, why do y'sell Brooms _Ancient_?
Is it in wantonness, or want?
_An._ The only reason is,
To sweep your Lordships conscience: here's one for the nonce.
Gape Sir, you have swallowed many a goodlier matter--
The only casting for a crazie conscience.
_3 Sol._ Will your Lordship buy any honestie? 'twill be worth your mony.
_B[o]r._ How is this?
_3 Sol._ Honestie my Lord, 'tis here in a quill.
_An._ Take heed you open it not, for 'tis so subtle,
The least puffe of wind will blow it out o'th' Kingdom.
_2 Sol._ Will your Lordship please to taste a fine Potato?
'Twill advance your wither'd state.
_Anc._ Fill your honour full of most noble itches,
And make Jack dance in your Lordships breeches.
1 Sol. _If your Daughters on their beds.
Have bow'd, or crackt their maiden-heads;
If in a Coach with two much tumbling,
They chance to crie, fie, fo, what fumbling;
If her foot slip, and down fall she,
And break her leg 'bove the knee,
The one and thirtieth of Februarie let this be ta'ne,
And they shall be arrant maids again._
_Bor._ Ye are brave Souldiers; keep your wantonness,
A winter will come on to shake this wilfulness.
Disport your selves, and when you want your mony-- [_Exit._
_Anc._ Broom, Broom, &c. [_Exeunt Singing._
SCENA VI.
_Enter_ Alinda, Honora, Viola.
_Al._ You must not be so fearfull, little one,
Nor Lady you so sad, you will ne're make Courtiers
With these dull sullen thoughts; this place is pleasure,
Preserv'd to that use, so inhabited;
And those that live here, live delightfull, joyfull:
These are the Gardens of _Adonis_, Ladies,
Where all sweets to their free and noble uses,
Grow ever young and courted.
_Hon._ Bless me Heaven,
Can things of her years arrive at these rudiments?
By your leave fair Gentlewoman, how long have you been here?
_Al._ Faith much about a week.
_Hon._ You have studied hard,
And by my faith arriv'd at a great knowledge.
_Viol._ Were not you bashfull at first?
_Al._ I, I, for an hour or two:
But when I saw people laugh'd at me for it,
And thought it a dull breeding--
_Hon._ You are govern'd here then
Much after the mens opinions.
_Al._ Ever Lady.
_Hon._ And what they think is honourable.--
_Al._ Most precisely
We follow with all faith.
_Hon._ A goodly Catechisme.
_Viol._ But bashfull for an hour or two?
_Al._ Faith to say true,
I do not think I was so long: for look ye,
'Tis to no end here, put on what shape ye will,
And soure your self with ne're so much austeritie,
You shall be courted in the same, and won too,
'Tis but some two hours more; and so much time lost,
Which we hold pretious here: In so much time now
As I have told you this, you may lose a Servant,
Your age, nor all your Art can e're recover.
Catch me occasion as she comes, hold fast there,
Till what you do affect is ripn'd to ye.
Has the Duke seen ye yet?
_Hon._ What if he have not?
_Al._ You do your beauties too much wrong, appearing
So full of sweetness, newness; set so richly,
As if a Counsel beyond nature fram'd ye.
_Hon._ If we were thus, say heaven had given these blessings,
Must we turn these to sin-oblations?
_Al._ How foolishly this Countrey way shews in ye?
How full of flegm? do you come here to pray, Ladies?
You had best cry, stand away, let me alone Gentlemen,
I'le tell my Father else.
_Viol._ This woman's naught sure,
A very naughtie woman.
_Hon._ Come, say on friend,
I'le be instructed by ye.
_Al._ You'l thank me for't.
_Hon._ Either I or the devil shall: The Duke you were speaking of.
_Al._ 'Tis well remembred: yes, let him first see you,
Appear not openly till he has view'd ye.
_Hon._ He's a very noble Prince they say.
_Al._ O wondrous gracious;
And as you may deliver your self at the first viewing.
For look ye, you must bear your self; yet take heed
It be so season'd with a sweet humilitie,
And grac'd with such a bountie in your beautie--
_Hon._ But I hope he will offer me no ill?
_Al._ No, no:
'Tis like he will kiss ye, and play with ye.
_Hon._ Play with me, how?
_Al._ Why, good Lord, that you are such a fool now!
No harm assure your self.
_Viol._ Will he play with me too?
_Al._ Look babies in your eyes, my prettie sweet one:
There's a fine sport: do you know your lodgings yet?
_Hon._ I hear of none.
_Al._ I do then, they are handsom,
Convenient for access.
_Viol._ Access?
_Al._ Yes little one,
For visitation of those friends and Servants,
Your beauties shall make choice of: friends and visits:
Do not you know those uses? Alas poor novice;
There's a close Cowch or two, handsomely placed too.
_Viol._ What are those I pray you?
_Al._ Who would be troubled with such raw things? they are to lie upon,
And your love by ye; and discourse, and toy in.
_Viol._ Alas I have no love.
_Al._ You must by any means:
You'l have a hundred, fear not.
_Viol._ Honestie keep me:
What shall I doe with all those?
_Al._ You'l find uses:
Ye are ignorant yet, let time work; you must learn too,
To lie handsomly in your bed a mornings, neatly drest
In a most curious Wastcoat, to set ye off well,
Play with your Bracelets, sing: you must learn to rhime too,
And riddle neatly; studie the hardest language,
And 'tis no matter whether it be sense, or no,
So it go seemlie off. Be sure ye profit
In kissing, kissing sweetly: there lies a main point,
A key that opens to all practick pleasure;
I'le help ye to a friend of mine shall teach ye,
And suddenlie: your Country way is fulsome.
_Hon._ Have ye schools for all these mysteries?
_Al._ O yes,
And several hours prefix'd to studie in:
Ye may have Kalenders to know the good hour,
And when to take a jewel: for the ill too,
When to refuse, with observations on 'em;
Under what Sign 'tis best meeting in an Arbor,
And in what Bower, and hour it works; a thousand,
When in a Coach, when in a private lodging,
With all their vertues.
_Hon._ Have ye studied these?
How beastly they become your youth? how bawdily?
A woman of your tenderness, a teacher,
Teacher of these lewd Arts? of your full beauty?
A man made up in lust would loath this in ye:
The rankest Leacher, hate such impudence.
They say the Devil can assume heavens brightness,
And so appear to tempt us: sure thou art no woman.
_Al._ I joy to find ye thus.
_Hon._ Thou hast no tenderness,
No reluctation in thy heart: 'tis mischief.
_Al._ All's one for that; read these and then be satisfi'd,
A few more private rules I have gather'd for ye,
Read 'em, and well observe 'em: so I leave ye. [_Exit._
_Viol._ A wond[ro]us wicked woman: shame go with thee.
_Hon._ What new _Pandoras_ box is this? I'le see it,
Though presently I tear it. Read Thine _Viola_,
'Tis in our own wills to believe and follow.
_Worthy_ Honora, _as you have begun
In vertues spotless school, so forward run:
Pursue that nobleness, and chaste desire
You ever had, burn in that holy fire;
And a white Martyr to fair memorie
Give up your name, unsoil'd of infamy._
How's this? Read yours out Sister: this amazes me.
Vio. _Fear not thou yet unblasted Violet,
Nor let my wanton words a doubt beget,
Live in that peace and sweetness of thy bud,
Remember whose thou art, and grow still good.
Remember what thou art, and stand a storie
Fit for thy noble Sex, and thine own glorie._
_Hon._ I know not what to think.
_Viol._ Sure a good woman,
An excellent woman, Sister.
_Hon._ It confounds me;
Let 'em use all their arts, if these be their ends,
The Court I say breeds the best foes and friends.
Come, let's be honest wench, and doe our best service.
_Viol._ A most excellent woman, I will love her. [_Exeunt._
_Actus Quartus. Scena Prima._
_Enter_ Olympia _with a Casket, and_ Alinda.
_Al._ Madam, the Duke has sent for the two Ladies.
_Olym._ I prethee go: I know thy thoughts are with him.
Go, go _Alinda_, do not mock me more.
I have found thy heart wench, do not wrong thy Mistris,
Thy too much loving Mistris: do not abuse her.
_Al._ By your own fair hands I understand ye not.
_Olym._ By thy own fair eyes I understand thee too much,
Too far, and built a faith there thou hast ruin'd.
Goe, and enjoy thy wish, thy youth, thy pleasure,
Enjoy the greatness no doubt he has promised,
Enjoy the service of all eyes that see thee,
The glory thou hast aim'd at, and the triumph:
Only this last love I ask, forget thy Mistris.
_Al._ Oh, who has wrong'd me? who has ruin'd me?
Poor wretched Girle, what poyson is flung on thee?
Excellent vertue, from whence flows this anger?
_Ol._ Go, ask my Brother, ask the faith thou gav'st me,
Ask all my favours to thee, ask my love,
Last, thy forgetfulness of good: then flye me,
For we must part _Alinda_.
_Al._ You are weary of me;
I must confess, I was never worth your service,
Your bounteous favours less; but that my duty,
My ready will, and all I had to serve ye--
O Heaven thou know'st my honestie.
_Olym._ No more:
Take heed, heaven has a justice: take this ring with ye,
This doting spell you gave me: too well _Alinda_,
Thou knew'st the vertue in't; too well I feel it:
Nay keep that too, it may sometimes remember ye,
When you are willing to forget who gave it,
And to what vertuous end.
_Al._ Must I goe from ye?
Of all the sorrows sorrow has--must I part with ye?
Part with my noble Mistris?
_Olym._ Or I with thee wench.
_Al._ And part stain'd with opinion? Farewel Lady,
Happy and blessed Lady, goodness keep ye:
Thus your poor Servant full of grief turns from ye,
For ever full of grief, for ever from ye.
I have no being now, no friends, no Country,
I wander heaven knows whither, heaven knows how.
No life, now you are lost: only mine innocence,
That little left me of my self, goes with me,
That's all my bread and comfort. I confess Madam,
Truely confess, the Duke has often courted me.
_Olym._ And pour'd his Soul into thee, won thee.
_Al._ Do you think so?
Well, time that told this tale, will tell my truth too,
And say ye had a faithfull, honest Servant:
The business of my life is now to pray for ye,
Pray for your vertuous loves; Pray for your children,
When Heaven shall make ye happy.
_Olym._ How she wounds me!
Either I am undone, or she must go: take these with ye,
Some toyes may doe ye service; and this mony;
And when ye want, I love ye not so poorly,
Not yet _Alinda_, that I would see ye perish.
Prethee be good, and let me hear: look on me,
I love those eyes yet dearly; I have kiss'd thee,
And now I'le doe't again: Farewel _Alinda_,
I am too full to speak more, and too wretched. [_Exit._
_Al._ You have my faith,
And all the world my fortune. [_Exit._
SCENA II.
_Enter_ Theodor.
_The._ I would fain hear
What becomes of these two Wenches:
And if I can, I will doe 'em good.
_Enter Gentleman, passing over the Stage._
Do you hear my honest friend?
He knows no such name:
What a world of business,
Which by interpretation are meer nothings,
These things have here! 'Mass now I think on't better,
I wish he be not sent for one of them
To some of these by-lodgings: me thought I saw
A kind of reference in his face to Bawderie.
_Enter Gentleman, with a Gentlewoman, passing over the Stage._
He has her, but 'tis none of them: hold fast thief:
An excellent touzing knave. Mistris
You are to suffer your penance some half hour hence now.
How far a fine Court Custard with Plums in it
Will prevail with one of these waiting Gentlewomen,
They are taken with these soluble things exceedingly;
This is some yeoman o'th' bottles now that has sent for her,
That she calls Father: now woe to this Ale incense.
By your leave Sir.
_Enter a_ Servant.
_Ser._ Well Sir; what's your pleasure with me?
_The._ You do not know the way to the maids lodgings?
_Ser._ Yes indeed do I Sir.
_The._ But you will not tell me?
_Ser._ No indeed will not I, because you doubt it. [_Exit._
_Enter_ 2 Servant.
_The._ These are fine gim-cracks: hey, here comes another,
A Flagon full of wine in's hand, I take it.
Well met my friend, is that wine?
_2 Ser._ Yes indeed is it.
_The._ Faith I'le drink on't then.
_2 Ser._ Ye may, because ye have sworn Sir.
_The._ 'Tis very good, I'le drink a great deal now Sir.
_2 Ser._ I cannot help it Sir.
_The._ I'le drink more yet.
_2 Ser._ 'Tis in your own hands.
_The._ There's your pot, I thank ye.
Pray let me drink again.
_2 Ser._ Faith but ye shall not.
Now have I sworn I take it. Fare ye well Sir. [_Exit._
_Enter_ Lady.
_The._ This is the fin'st place to live in I e're enter'd.
Here comes a Gentlewoman, and alone; I'le to her.
Madam, my Lord my Master.
_Lady._ Who's your Lord Sir?
_The._ The Lord _Boroskey_, Lady.
_Lady._ Pray excuse me:
Here's something for your pains: within this hour Sir,
One of the choice young Ladies shall attend him:
Pray let it be in that Chamber juts out to the water;
'Tis private and convenient: doe my humble service
To my honourable good Lord, I beseech ye Sir;
If it please you to visit a poor Lady--
You carrie the 'haviour of a noble Gentleman.
_The._ I shall be bold.
_Lady._ 'Tis a good aptness in ye.
I lye here in the Wood-yard, the blue lodgings Sir;
They call me merrily the Lady of the ---- Sir;
A little I know what belongs to a Gentleman,
And if it please you take the pains. [_Exit._
_The._ Dear Lady, take the pains?
Why a horse would not take the pains that thou requir'st now,
To cleave old crab-tree: one of the choice young Ladies?
I would I had let this Bawd goe, she has frighted me;
I am cruelly afraid of one of my Tribe now;
But if they will doe, the Devil cannot stop 'em.
Why should he have a young Lady? are women now
O'th' nature of Bottles, to be stopt with Corks?
O the thousand little furies that flye here now!
How now Captain?
_Enter_ Putsky.
_Puts._ I come to seek you out Sir,
And all the Town I have travell'd.
_The._ What's the news man?
_Puts._ That that concerns us all, and very nearly:
The Duke this night holds a great feast at Court,
To which he bids for guests all his old Counsellors,
And all his favourites: your Father's sent for.
_The._ Why he is neither in council, nor in favour.
_Pu._ That's it: have an eye now, or never, and a quick one,
An eye that must not wink from good intelligence.
I heard a Bird sing, they mean him no good office.
_Enter_ Ancient.
_The._ Art sure he sups here?
_Puts._ Sure as 'tis day.
_The._ 'Tis like then:
How now, where hast thou been _Ancient_?
_Anc._ Measuring the City:
I have left my Brooms at gate here;
By this time the Porter has stole 'em to sweep out Rascals.
_Theod._ Bro[o]ms?
_Anc._ I have been crying Brooms all the town over,
And such a Mart I have made, there's no tread near it.
O the young handsom wenches, how they twitter'd,
When they but saw me shake my ware, and sing too;
Come hither Master Broom-man I beseech ye:
Good Master Broom-man hither, cries another.
_The._ Thou art a mad fellow.
_Anc._ They are all as mad as I: they all have tra[de]s now,
And roar about the streets like Bull-beggers.
_The._ What company of Souldiers are they?
_Anc._ By this means I have gather'd
Above a thousand tall and hardy Souldiers,
If need be Colonel.
_The._ That need's come _Ancient_,
And 'twas discreetly done: goe, draw 'em presently,
But without suspicion: this night we shall need 'em;
Let 'em be near the Court, let _Putskie_ guide 'em;
And wait me for occasion: here I'le stay still.
_Puts._ If it fall out we are ready; if not we are scatter'd:
I'le wait ye at an inch.
_The._ Doe, Farewel. [_Exeunt._
SCENA III.
_Enter Duke_, Borosky.
_Duke._ Are the Souldiers still so mutinous?
_Bor._ More than ever,
No Law nor Justice frights 'em: all the Town over
They play new pranks and gambols: no mans person,
Of what degree soever, free from abuses:
And durst they doe this, (let your grace consider)
These monstrous, most offensive things, these villanies,
If not set on, and fed? if not by one
They honour more than you? and more aw'd by him?
_Duke._ Happily their own wants.
_Boros._ I offer to supply 'em,
And every hour make tender of their moneys:
They scorn it, laugh at me that offer it:
I fear the next device will be my life Sir;
And willingly I'le give it, so they stay there.
_Duke._ Do you think Lord _Archas_ privie?
_Bor._ More than thought,
I know it Sir, I know they durst not doe
These violent rude things, abuse the State thus,
But that they have a hope by his ambitions--
_Duke._ No more: he's sent for?
_Boros._ Yes, and will be here sure.
_Duke._ Let me talk further with you anon.
_Boros._ I'le wait Sir.
_Duke._ Did you speak to the Ladies?
_Boros._ They'l attend your grace presently.
_Duke._ How do you like 'em?
_Boros._ My eyes are too dull Judges.
They wait here Sir. [_Exit._
_Enter_ Honora, _and_ Viola.
_Duke._ Be you gone then: Come in Ladies,
Welcom to th' court sweet beauties; now the court shines,
When such true beams of beauty strike amongst us:
Welcom, welcom, even as your own joyes welcom.
How do you like the Court? how seems it to you?
Is't not a place created for all sweetness?
Why were you made such strangers to this happiness?
Barr'd the delights this holds? the richest jewels
Set ne're so well, if then not worn to wonder,
By judging eyes not set off, lose their lustre:
Your Country shades are faint; blasters of beauty;
The manners like the place, obscure and heavie;
The Rose buds of the beauties turn to cankers,
Eaten with inward thoughts: whilst there ye wander.
Here Ladies, here, you were not made for Cloisters,
Here is the Sphere you move in: here shine nobly,
And by your powerfull influence command all:
What a sweet modestie dwells round about 'em,
And like a nipping morn pulls in their blossoms?
_Hon._ Your grace speaks cunningly, you doe not this,
I hope Sir, to betray us; we are poor triumphs;
Nor can our loss of honour adde to you Sir:
Great men, and great thoughts, seek things great and worthy,
Subjects to make 'em live, and not to lose 'em;
Conquests so nobly won, can never perish;
We are two simple maids, untutor'd here Sir;
Two honest maids, is that a sin at Court Sir?
Our breeding is obedience, but to good things,
To vertuous and to fair: what wou'd you win on us?
Why do I ask that question, when I have found ye?
Your Preamble has pour'd your heart out to us;
You would dishonour us; which in your translation
Here at the Court reads thus, your grace would love us,
Most dearly love us: stick us up for mistresses:
Most certain, there are thousands of our sex Sir
That would be glad of this, and handsom women,
And crowd into this favour, fair young women,
Excellent beauties Sir: when ye have enjoy'd 'em,
And suckt those sweets they have, what Saints are these then?
What worship have they won? what name you ghess Sir,
What storie added to their time, a sweet one?
_Duke._ A brave spirited wench.
_Hon._ I'le tell your grace,
And tell ye true: ye are deceiv'd in us two,
Extreamly cozen'd Sir: And yet in my eye
You are the handsomst man I ever lookt on,
The goodliest Gentleman; take that hope with ye;
And were I fit to be your wife (so much I honour ye)
Trust me I would scratch for ye but I would have ye.
I would wooe you then.
_Duke._ She amazes me:
But how am I deceiv'd?
_Hon._ O we are too honest,
Believe it Sir, too honest, far too honest,
The way that you propound too ignorant,
And there is no medling with us; for we are fools too,
Obstinate, peevish fools: if I would be ill,
And had a wantons itch, to kick my heels up,
I would not leap into th' Sun, and doe't there,
That all the world might see me: an obscure shade Sir,
Dark as the deed, there is no trusting light with it,
Nor that that's lighter far, vain-glorious greatness.
_Duke._ You will love me as your friend?
_Ho[n]._ I will honour ye,
As your poor humble handmaid serve, and pray for ye.
_Du._ What sayes my little one; you are not so obstinate?
Lord how she blushes: here are truly fair souls:
Come you will be my love?
_Viol._ Good Sir be good to me,
Indeed I'le doe the best I can to please ye;
I do beseech your grace: Alas I fear ye.
_Duke._ What shouldst thou fear?
_Hon._ Fie Sir, this is not noble.
_Duke._ Why do I stand entreating, where my power--
_Hon._ You have no power, at least you ought to have none
In bad and beastly things: arm'd thus, I'le dye here,
Before she suffer wrong.
_Duke._ Another _Archas_?
_Hon._ His child Sir, and his spirit.
_Duke._ I'le deal with you then,
For here's the honour to be won: sit down sweet,
Prethee _Honora_ sit.
_Hon._ Now ye intreat I will Sir.
_Duke._ I doe, and will deserve it.
_Hon._ That's too much kindness.
_Duke._ Prethee look on me.
_Hon._ Yes: I love to see ye,
And could look on an age thus, and admire ye:
Whilst ye are good and temperate I dare touch ye,
Kiss your white hand.
_Duke._ Why not my lips?
_Hon._ I dare Sir.
_Duke._ I do not think ye dare.
_Hon._ I am no coward.
D[o] you believe me now? or now? or now Sir?
You make me blush: but sure I mean no ill Sir:
It had been fitter you had kiss'd me.
_Du._ That I'le doe too.
What hast thou wrought into me?
_Hon._ I hope all goodness:
Whilst ye are thus, thus honest, I dare do any thing,
Thus hang about your neck, and thus doat on ye;
Bless those fair lights: hell take me if I durst not--
But good Sir pardon me. Sister come hither,
Come hither, fear not wench: come hither, blush not,
Come kiss the Prince, the vertuous Prince, the good Prince:
Certain he is excellent honest.
_Du._ Thou wilt make me--
_Hon._ Sit down, and hug him softly.
_Du._ Fie _Honora_,
Wanton _Honora_; is this the modesty,
The noble chastity your on-set shew'd me,
At first charge beaten back? Away.
_Hon._ Thank ye:
Upon my knees I pray, heaven too may thank ye;
Ye have deceiv'd me cunningly, yet nobly
Ye have cozen'd me: In all your hopefull life yet,
A Scene of greater honour you ne're acted:
I knew fame was a lyar, too long, and loud tongu'd,
And now I have found it: O my vertuous Master.
_Viol._ My vertuous Master too.
_Hon._ Now you are thus,
What shall become of me let fortune cast for't.
_Enter_ Alinda.
_Du._ I'le be that fortune, if I live _Honora_,
Thou hast done a cure upon me, counsel could not.
_Al._ Here take your ring Sir, and whom ye mean to ruine,
Give it to her next; I have paid for't dearly.
_Hon._ A Ring to her?
_Du._ Why frowns my fair _Alinda_?
I have forgot both these again.
_Al._ Stand still Sir,
Ye have that violent killing fire upon ye,
Consumes all honour, credit, faith.
_Hon._ How's this?
_Al._ My Royal Mistris favour towards me,
Woe-worth ye Sir, ye have poyson'd, blasted.
_Duke._ I sweet?
_Al._ You have taken that unmanly liberty,
Which in a worse man, is vain glorious feigning,
And kill'd my truth.
_Du._ Upon my life 'tis false wench.
_Al._ Ladies,
Take heed, ye have a cunning gamester,
A handsom, and a high; come stor'd with Antidotes,
He has infections else will fire your blouds.
_Du._ Prethee _Alinda_ hear me.
_Al._ Words steept in hony,
That will so melt into your minds, buy Chastity,
A thousand wayes, a thousand knots to tie ye;
And when he has bound ye his, a thousand ruines.
A poor lost woman ye have made me.
_Du._ I'le maintain thee,
And nobly too.
_Al._ That Gin's too weak to take me:
Take heed, take heed young Ladies: still take heed,
Take heed of promises, take heed of gifts,
Of forced feigned sorrows, sighs, take heed.
_Du._ By all that's mine, _Alinda_--
_Al._ Swear
By your mischiefs:
O whither shall I goe?
_Duke._ Go back again,
I'le force her take thee, love thee.
_Alin._ Fare ye well, Sir,
I will not curse ye; only this dwell with ye,
When ever ye love, a false belief light on ye. [_Exit._
_Hon._ We'll take our leaves too, Sir.
_Duke._ Part all the world now,
Since she is gone.
_Hon._ You are crooked yet, dear Master,
And still I fear-- [_Exeunt._
_Duke._ I am vext,
And some shall find it. [_Exit._
SCENE IV.
_Enter_ Archas _and a Servant_.
_Ar._ 'Tis strange
To me to see the Court, and welcome:
O Royal place, how have I lov'd and serv'd thee?
Who lies on this side, know'st thou?
_Ser._ The Lord _Burris_.
_Ar._ Thou hast nam'd a Gentleman
I stand much bound to:
I think he sent the Casket, Sir?
_Ser._ The same, Sir.
_Ar._ An honest minded man, a noble Courtier:
The Duke made perfect choice when he took him.
Go you home, I shall hit the way
Without a guide now.
_Ser._ You may want something, Sir.
_Ar._ Only my Horses,
Which after Supper let the Groom wait with:
I'le have no more attendance here.
_Ser._ Your will, Sir. [_Exit._
_Enter_ Theodore.
_Theo._ You are well met here, Sir.
_Ar._ How now boy,
How dost thou?
_The._ I should ask
You that question: how do you, Sir?
How do you feel your self?
_Ar._ Why well, and lusty.
_The._ What do you here then?
_Ar._ Why I am sent for
To Supper with the Duke.
_The._ Have you no meat at home?
Or do you long to feed as hunted Deer do,
In doubt and fear?
_Ar._ I have an excellent stomach,
And can I use it better
Than among my friends, Boy?
How do the Wenches?
_The._ They do well enough, Sir,
They know the worst by this time: pray be rul'd, Sir,
Go home again, and if ye have a Supper,
Eat it in quiet there: this is no place for ye,
Especially at this time,
Take my word for't.
_Ar._ May be they'll drink hard;
I could have drunk my share, Boy.
Though I am old, I will not out.
_The._ I hope you will.
Hark in your ear: the Court's
Too quick of hearing.
_Ar._ Not mean me well?
Thou art abus'd and cozen'd.
Away, away.
_The._ To that end Sir, I tell ye.
Away, if you love your self.
_Ar._ Who dare do these things,
That ever heard of honesty?
_The._ Old Gentleman,
Take a fools counsel.
_Ar._ 'Tis a fools indeed;
A very fools: thou hast more of
These flams in thee, these musty doubts:
Is't fit the Duke send for me,
And honour me to eat within his presence,
And I, like a tale fellow, play at bo-peep
With his pleasure?
_The._ Take heed
Of bo-peep with your pate, your pate, Sir,
I speak plain language now.
_Ar._ If 'twere not here,
Where reverence bids me hold,
I would so swinge thee, thou rude,
Unmanner'd Knave; take from his bounty,
His honour that he gives me, to beget
Sawcy, and sullen fears?
_The._ You are not mad sure:
By this fair light, I speak
But what is whisper'd,
And whisper'd for a truth.
_Ar._ A Dog: drunken people,
That in their Pot see visions,
And turn states, mad-men and Children:
Prethee do not follow me;
I tell thee I am angry:
Do not follow me.
_The._ I am as angry
As you for your heart,
I and as wilful too: go, like a Wood-cock,
And thrust your neck i'th' noose.
_Ar._ I'le kill thee,
And thou speakst but three words more.
Do not follow me. [_Exit._
_The._ A strange old foolish fellow: I shall hear yet,
And if I do not my part, hiss at me. [_Exit._
SCENE V.
_Enter two Servants preparing a Banquet._
_1 Serv._ Believe me fellow here will be lusty drinking.
Many a washt pate in Wine I warrant thee.
_2 Ser._ I am glad the old General's come: upon my Conscience
That joy will make half the Court drunk. Hark the Trumpets,
They are coming on; away.
_1 Ser._ We'll have a rowse too. [_Exeunt._
_Enter Duke_, Archas, Burris, Boroskie, _Attend. Gent._
_Duke._ Come seat your selves: Lord _Archas_ sit you there.
_Ar._ 'Tis far above my worth.
_Duke._ I'le have it so:
Are all things ready?
_Bor._ All the Guards are set,
The Court Gates are shut.
_Duke._ Then do as I prescrib'd ye.
Be sure no further.
_Bor._ I shall well observe ye.
_Du._ Come bring some wine: here's to my Sister, Gentlemen;
A health, and mirth to all.
_Ar._ Pray fill it full, Sir.
'Tis a high health to vertue: here Lord _Burris_,
A maiden health: you are most fit to pledge it,
You have a maiden soul and much I honour it.
Passion o' me, ye are sad man.
_Duke._ How now, _Burris_?
Go to, no more of this.
_Ar._ Take the rowse freely,
'Twill warm your bloud, and make ye fit for jollity.
Your Graces pardon: when we get a cup, Sir,
We old men prate a pace.
_Du._ Mirth makes a Banquet;
As you love me no more.
_Bur._ I thank your Grace.
Give me it; Lord _Boroskie_.
_Boros._ I have ill brains, Sir.
_Bur._ Damnable ill, I know it.
_Boros._ But I'le pledge, Sir,
This vertuous health.
_Bur._ The more unfit for thy mouth.
_Enter two Servants with Cloaks._
_Du._ Come, bring out Robes, and let my guests look nobly,
Fit for my love and presence: begin downward.
Off with your Cloaks, take new.
_Ar._ Your grace deals truly,
Like a munificent Prince, with your poor subjects,
Who would not fight for you? what cold dull coward
Durst seek to save his life when you would ask it?
Begin a new health in your new adornments,
The Dukes, the Royal Dukes: ha! what have I got
Sir? ha! the Robe of death?
_Du._ You have deserv'd it.
_Ar._ The Livery of the Grave? do you start all from me?
Do I smell of earth already? Sir, look on me,
And like a man; is this your entertainment?
Do you bid your worthiest guests to bloudy Banquets?
_Enter a Guard._
A Guard upon me too? this is too foul play
Boy to thy good, thine honour: thou wretched Ruler,
Thou Son of fools and flatterers, Heir of hypocrites,
Am I serv'd in a Hearse that sav'd ye all?
Are ye men or Devils? Do ye gape upon me,
Wider, and swallow all my services?
Entomb them first, my faith next, then my integrity,
And let these struggle with your mangy minds,
Your sear'd, and seal'd up Consciences, till they burst.
_Boros._ These words are death.
_Ar._ No those deeds that want rewards, Sirrah,
Those Battels I have fought, those horrid dangers,
Leaner than death, and wilder than destruction,
I have march'd upon, these honour'd wounds, times story,
The bloud I have lost, the youth, the sorrows suffer'd,
These are my death, these that can ne're be recompenced,
These that ye sit a brooding on like Toads,
Sucking from my deserts the sweets and favours,
And render me no pay again but poysons.
_Bor._ The proud vain Souldier thou hast set--
_Ar._ Thou lyest.
Now by my little time of life lyest basely,
Malitiously and loudly: how I scorn thee!
If I had swel'd the Souldier, or intended
An act in person, leaning to dishonour,
As ye would fain have forced me, witness Heaven,
Where clearest understanding of all truth is,
(For these are spightful men, and know no piety)
When _Olin_ came, grim _Olin_, when his marches,
His last Incursions made the City sweat,
And drove before him, as a storm drives Hail,
Such showrs of frosted fears, shook all your heart-strings;
Then when the _Volga_ trembled at his terrour,
And hid his seven curl'd heads, afraid of bruising,
By his arm'd Horses hoofs; had I been false then,
Or blown a treacherous fire into the Souldier,
Had but one spark of villany liv'd within me,
Ye'ad had some shadow for this black about me.
Where was your Souldiership? why went not you out?
And all your right honourable valour with ye?
Why met ye not the _Tartar_, and defi'd him?
Drew your dead-doing sword, and buckl'd with him?
Shot through his Squadrons like a fiery Meteor?
And as we see a dreadful clap of Thunder
Rend the stiffhearted Oaks, and toss their roots up:
Why did not you so charge him? you were sick then,
You that dare taint my credit slipt to bed then,
Stewing and fainting with the fears ye had,
A whorson shaking fit opprest your Lordship:
Blush Coward, Knave, and all the world hiss at thee.
_Du._ Exceed not my command. [_Exit._
_Bor._ I shall observe it.
_Ar._ Are you gone too? Come weep not honest _Burris_,
Good loving Lord, no more tears: 'tis not his malice,
This fellows malice, nor the Dukes displeasure,
By bold bad men crowded into his nature,
Can startle me: fortune ne're raz'd this Fort yet:
I am the same, the same man, living, dying;
The same mind to 'em both, I poize thus equal;
Only the jugling way that toll'd me to it,
The _Judas_ way, to kiss me, bid me welcome,
And cut my throat, a little sticks upon me.
Farewel, commend me to his Grace, and tell him,
The world is full of servants, he may have many:
And some I wish him honest: he's undone else:
But such another doating _Archas_ never,
So try'd and touch'd a faith: farewell for ever.
_Bur._ Be strong my Lord: you must not go thus lightly.
_Ar._ Now, what's to do? what sayes the Law unto me?
Give me my great offence that speaks me guil[t]y.
_Bor._ Laying aside a thousand petty matters,
As scorns, and insolencies both from your self and followers,
Which you put first fire to, and these are deadly,
I come to one main cause, which though it carries
A strangeness in the circumstance, it carries death too,
Not to be pardon'd neither: ye have done a sacriledge.
_Ar._ High Heaven defend me man: how, how _Boroskie_?
_Bor._ Ye have took from the Temple those vow'd Arms,
The holy Ornament you hung up there,
No absolution of your vow, no order
From holy Church to give 'em back unto you
After they were purified from War, and rested
From bloud, made clean by ceremony: from the Altar
You snatch'd 'em up again, again ye wore 'em,
Again you stain'd 'em, stain'd your vow, the Church too,
And rob'd it of that right was none of yours, Sir,
For which the Law requires your head, ye know it.
_Ar._ Those arms I fought in last?
_Bor._ The same.
_Ar._ God a mercy,
Thou hast hunted out a notable cause to kill me:
A subtle one: I dye, for saving all you;
Good Sir, remember if you can, the necessity,
The suddenness of time, the state all stood in;
I was entreated to, kneel'd to, and pray'd to,
The Duke himself, the Princes, all the Nobles,
The cries of Infants, Bed-rid Fathers, Virgins;
Prethee find out a better cause, a handsomer,
This will undo thee too: people will spit at thee,
The Devil himself would be asham'd of this cause;
Because my haste made me forget the ceremony,
The present danger every where, must my life satisfie?
_Bor._ It must, and shall.
_Ar._ O base ungrateful people,
Have ye no other Swords to cut my throat with
But mine own nobleness? I confess, I took 'em,
The vow not yet absolv'd I hung 'em up with:
Wore 'em, fought in 'em, gilded 'em again
In the fierce _Tartars_ blouds; for you I took 'em,
For your peculiar safety, Lord, for all,
I wore 'em for my Countries health, that groan'd then:
Took from the Temple, to preserve the Temple;
That holy place, and all the sacred monuments,
The reverent shrines of Saints, ador'd and honour'd,
Had been consum'd to ashes, their own sacrifice;
Had I been slack, or staid that absolution,
No Priest had liv'd to give it; my own honour,
Cure of my Country murder me?
_Bor._ No, no Sir,
I shall force that from ye, will make this cause light too,
Away with him: I shall pluck down that heart, Sir.
_Ar._ Break it thou mayest; but if it bend, for pity,
Doggs, and Kites eat it: come I am honours Martyr. [_Ex._
SCENE VI.
_Enter Duke, and_ Burris.
_Du._ Exceed my Warrant?
_Bur._ You know he loves him not.
_Du._ He dares as well eat death, as do it, eat wild-fire,
Through a few fears I mean to try his goodness,
That I may find him fit, to wear here, _Burris_;
I know Boroskie hates him, to death hates him,
I know he's a Serpent too, a swoln one, [_Noise within._
But I have pull'd his sting out: what noise is that?
_The. within._ Down with 'em, down with 'em, down with the gates.
_Sold. within._ Stand, stand, stand.
_Puts. within._ Fire the Palace before ye.
_Bur._ Upon my life the Souldier, Sir, the Souldier,
A miserable time is come.
_Enter Gentleman._
_Gent._ Oh save him,
Upon my knees, my hearts knees, save Lord _Archas_,
We are undone else.
_Du._ Dares he touch his Body?
_Gent._ He racks him fearfully, most fearfully.
_Du._ Away _Burris_,
Take men, and take him from him; clap him up,
And if I live, I'll find a strange death for him. [_Ex._ Bur.
Are the Souldiers broke in?
_Gent._ By this time sure they are, Sir,
They beat the Gates extreamly, beat the people.
_Du._ Get me a guard about me; make sure the lodgings,
And speak the Souldiers fair.
_Gent._ Pray Heaven that take, Sir. [_Exeunt._
_Enter_ Putskie, _Ancient, Souldiers, with Torches_.
_Puts._ Give us the General, we'll fire the Court else,
Render him safe and well.
_Anc._ Do not fire the Cellar,
There's excellent Wine in't, Captain, and though it be cold weather,
I do not love it mull'd; bring out the General,
We'll light ye such a Bone-fire else: where are ye?
Speak, or we'll toss your Turrets, peep out of your Hives,
We'll smoak ye else: Is not that a Nose there?
Put out that Nose again, and if thou dar'st
But blow it before us: now he creeps out on's Burrough.
_Enter Gentleman._
_Puts._ Give us the General.
_Gent._ Yes, Gentlemen;
Or any thing ye can desire.
_Anc._ You musk-cat,
Cordevant-skin we will not take your answer.
_Puts._ Where is the Duke? speak suddenly, and send him hither.
_Anc._ Or we'll so frye your Buttocks.
_Gent._ Good sweet Gentlemen--
_Anc._ We are neither good nor sweet, we are Souldiers,
And you miscreants that abuse the General.
Give fire my Boys, 'tis a dark Evening,
Let's light 'em to their lodgings.
_Enter_ Olympia, Honora, Viola, Theodore, _Women_.
_Hon._ Good Brother be not fierce.
_The._ I will not hurt her,
Fear not sweet Lady.
_Olym._ Nay, do what you please, Sir,
I have a sorrow that exceeds all yours,
And more, contemns all danger.
_Enter Duke, above._
_The._ Where is the Duke?
_Du._ He's here; what would ye Souldiers? wherefore troop ye
Like mutinous mad-men thus?
_The._ Give me my Father.
_Puts. Anc._ Give us our General.
_The._ Set him here before us,
Ye see the pledge we have got; ye see the Torches;
All shall to ashes, as I live, immediately,
A thousand lives for one.
_Du._ But hear me?
_Puts._ No, we come not to dispute.
_Enter_ Archas, _and_ Burris.
_The._ By Heaven I swear he's rackt and whipt.
_Hon._ Oh my poor Father!
_Puts._ Burn, kill and burn.
_Arc._ Hold, hold, I say: hold Souldiers,
On your allegiance hold.
_The._ We must not.
_Arc._ Hold:
I swear by Heaven he is a barbarous Traitor stirs first,
A Villain, and a stranger to Obedience,
Never my Souldier more, nor Friend to Honour:
Why did you use your old Man thus? thus cruelly
Torture his poor weak Body? I ever lov'd ye.
_Du._ Forget me in these wrongs, most noble _Archas_.
_Arc._ I have balm enough for all my hurts: weep no more Sir
A satisfaction for a thousand sorrows;
I do believe you innocent, a good man,
And Heaven forgive that naughty thing that wrong'd me:
Why look ye wild, my friends? why stare ye on me?
I charge ye, as ye are men, my men, my lovers,
As ye are honest faithful men, fair Souldiers,
Let down your anger: Is not this our Soveraign?
The head of mercy, and of Law? who dares then,
But Rebels, scorning Law, appear thus violent?
Is this a place for Swords? for threatning fires?
The Reverence of this House dares any touch,
But with obedient knees, and pious duties?
Are we not all his Subjects? all sworn to him?
Has not he power to punish our offences?
And do we not daily fall into 'em? assure your selves
I did offend, and highly, grievously,
This good, sweet Prince I offended, my life forfeited,
Which yet his mercy and his old love met with,
And only let me feel his light rod this way:
Ye are to thank him for your General,
Pray for his life and fortune; swear your bloods for him.
Ye are offenders too, daily offenders,
Proud insolencies dwell in your hearts, and ye do 'em,
Do 'em against his Peace, his Law, his Person;
Ye see he only sorrows for your sins,
And where his power might persecute, forgives ye:
For shame put up your Swords, for honesty,
For orders sake, and whose ye are, my Souldiers,
Be not so rude.
_The._ They have drawn blood from you, Sir.
_Arc._ That was the blood rebell'd, the naughty blood,
The proud provoking blood; 'tis well 'tis out, Boy;
Give you example first; draw out, and orderly.
_Hon._ Good Brother, do.
_Arc._ Honest and high example,
As thou wilt have my Blessing follow thee,
Inherit all mine honours: thank ye _Theodore_,
My worthy Son.
_The._ If harm come, thank your self, Sir,
I must obey ye. [_Exit._
_Arc._ Captain, you know the way now:
A good man, and a valiant, you were ever,
Inclin'd to honest things; I thank ye, Captain. [_Ex. Soul._
Souldiers, I thank ye all: and love me still,
But do not love me so you lose Allegiance,
Love that above your lives: once more I thank ye.
_Du._ Bring him to rest, and let our cares wait on him;
Thou excellent old man, thou top of honour,
Where Justice, and Obedience only build,
Thou stock of Vertue, how am I bound to love thee!
In all thy noble ways to follow thee!
_Bur._ Remember him that vext him, Sir.
_Du._ Remember?
When I forget that Villain, and to pay him
For all his mischiefs, may all good thoughts forget me.
_Arc._ I am very sore.
_Du._ Bring him to Bed with ease, Gentlemen,
For every stripe I'll drop a tear to wash 'em,
And in my sad Repentance--
_Arc._ 'Tis too much,
I have a life yet left to gain that love, Sir. [_Exeunt._
_Actus Quintus. Scena Prima._
_Enter Duke_, Burris, _and Gentlemen_.
_Duke._ How does Lord _Archas_?
_Bur._ But weak, and't please ye;
Yet all the helps that art can, are applied to him;
His heart's untoucht, and whole yet; and no doubt, Sir,
His mind being sound, his body soon will follow.
_Du._ O that base Knave that wrong'd him, without leave too;
But I shall find an hour to give him thanks for't;
He's fast, I hope.
_Bur._ As fast as irons can keep him:
But the most fearful Wretch--
_Du._ He has a Conscience,
A cruel stinging one I warrant him,
A loaden one: But what news of the Souldier?
I did not like their parting, 'twas too sullen.
_Bur._ That they keep still, and I fear a worse clap;
They are drawn out of the Town, and stand in counsels,
Hatching unquiet thoughts, and cruel purposes:
I went my self unto 'em, talkt with the Captains,
Whom I found fraught with nothing but loud murmurs,
And desperate curses, sounding these words often
Like Trumpets to their angers: we are ruin'd,
Our services turn'd to disgraces, mischiefs;
Our brave old General, like one had pilfer'd,
Tortur'd, and whipt: the Colonels eyes, like torches,
Blaze every where and fright fair peace.
_Gent._ Yet worse, Sir;
The news is currant now, they mean to leave ye,
Leave their Allegiance; and under _Olins_ Charge
The bloody Enemy march straight against ye.
_Bur._ I have heard this too, Sir.
_Du._ This must be prevented,
And suddenly, and warily.
_Bur._ 'Tis time, Sir,
But what to minister, or how?
_Du._ Go in with me,
And there we'll think upon't: such blows as these,
Equal defences ask, else they displease. [_Exeunt._
SCENE II.
_Enter_ Petesca, _and Gentlewoman_.
_Pet._ Lord, what a coil has here been with these Souldiers!
They are cruel fellows.
_Wom._ And yet methought we found 'em
Handsome enough; I'll tell thee true, _Petesca_,
I lookt for other manner of dealings from 'em,
And had prepar'd my self; but where's my Lady?
_Pet._ In her old dumps within: monstrous melancholy;
Sure she was mad of this Wench.
_Wom._ And she had been a man,
She would have been a great deal madder, I am glad she is shifted.
_Pet._ 'Twas a wicked thing for me to betray her,
And yet I must confess she stood in our lights.
_Enter_ Alinda.
What young thing's this?
_Alin._ Good morrow beauteous Gentlewomen:
'Pray ye is the Princess stirring yet?
_Wom._ He has her face.
_Pet._ Her very tongue, and tone too: her youth upon him.
_Alin._ I guess ye to be the Princess Women.
_Pet._ Yes, we are, Sir.
_Alin._ Pray is there not a Gentlewoman waiting on her Grace,
Ye call _Alinda_?
_Pet._ The Devil sure in her shape.
_Wom._ I have heard her tell my Lady of a Brother,
An only Brother that she had: in travel--
_Pet._ 'Mass, I remember that: this may be he too:
I would this thing would serve her.
_Enter_ Olympia.
_Wom._ So would I Wench,
We should love him better sure: Sir, here's the Princess,
She best can satisfie ye.
_Alin._ How I love that presence!
O blessed Eyes, how nobly shine your comforts!
_Olym._ What Gentleman is that?
_Wom._ We know not, Madam:
He ask'd us for your Grace: and as we guess it,
He is _Alinda_'s Brother.
_Olym._ Ha! let me mark him:
My grief has almost blinded me: her Brother?
By _Venus_, he has all her sweetness upon him:
Two silver drops of dew were never liker.
_Alin._ Gracious Lady--
_Olym._ That pleasant pipe he has too.
_Alin._ Being my happiness to pass by this way,
And having as I understand by Letters,
A Sister in your vertuous service, Madam--
_Olym._ O now my heart, my heart akes.
_Alin._ All the comfort
My poor youth has, all that my hopes have built me,
I thought it my first duty, my best service,
Here to arrive first, humbly to thank your Grace
For my poor Sister, humbly to thank your Nobleness,
That bounteous Goodness in ye.
_Olym._ 'Tis he certainly.
_Alin._ That spring of favour to her; with my life, Madam,
If any such most happy means might meet me,
To shew my thankfulness.
_Olym._ What have I done, Fool!
_Alin._ She came a stranger to your Grace, no Courtier;
Nor of that curious breed befits your service,
Yet one I dare assure my Soul, that lov'd ye
Before she saw ye; doted on your Vertues;
Before she knew those fair eyes, long'd to read 'em,
You only had her prayers, you her wishes;
And that one hope to be yours once, preserv'd her.
_Olym._ I have done wickedly.
_Alin._ A little Beauty,
Such as a Cottage breeds, she brought along with her;
And yet our Country-eyes esteem'd it much too:
But for her beauteous mind, forget great Lady,
I am her Brother, and let me speak a stranger,
Since she was able to beget a thought, 'twas honest.
The daily study how to fit your services,
Truly to tread that vertuous path you walk in,
So fir'd her honest Soul, we thought her Sainted;
I presume she is still the same: I would fain see her,
For Madam, 'tis no little love I owe her.
_Olym._ Sir, such a maid there was, I had--
_Alin._ There was, Madam?
_Olym._ O my poor Wench: eyes, I will ever curse ye
For your Credulity, _Alinda_.
_Alin._ That's her name, Madam.
_Olym._ Give me a little leave, Sir, to lament her.
_Alin._ Is she dead, Lady?
_Olym._ Dead, Sir, to my service.
She is gone, pray ye ask no further.
_Alin._ I obey Madam:
Gone? now must I lament too: said ye gone Madam?
_Olym._ Gone, gone for ever.
_Alin._ That's a cruel saying:
Her honour too?
_Olym._ Prithee look angry on me,
And if thou ever lovedst her, spit upon me;
Do something like a Brother, like a friend,
And do not only say thou lov'st her--
_Al._ Ye amaze me.
_Oly._ I ruin'd her, I wrong'd her, I abus'd her;
Poor innocent soul, I flung her; sweet _Alinda_,
Thou vertuous maid, my soul now calls thee vertuous.
Why do ye not rail now at me?
_Al._ For what Lady?
_Oly._ Call me base treacherous woman.
_Al._ Heaven defend me.
_Oly._ Rashly I thought her false, and put her from me,
Rashly, and madly I betrai'd her modesty,
Put her to wander, heaven knows where: nay, more Sir,
Stuck a black brand upon her.
_Al._ 'Twas not well Lady.
_Oly._ 'Twas damnable: she loving me so dearly,
Never poor wench lov'd so: Sir believe me,
'Twas the most dutious wench, the best companion,
When I was pleas'd, the happiest, and the gladdest,
The modestest sweet nature dwelt within her:
I saw all this, I knew all this, I lov'd it,
I doated on it too, and yet I kill'd it:
O what have I forsaken? what have I lost?
_Al._ Madam, I'le take my leave, since she is wandring,
'Tis fit I know no rest.
_Oly._ Will you go too Sir?
I have not wrong'd you yet, if you dare trust me,
For yet I love _Alinda_ there, I honour her,
I love to look upon those eyes that speak her,
To read that face again, (modesty keep me,)
_Alinda_, in that shape: but why should you trust me,
'Twas I betray'd your Sister, I undid her;
And believe me, gentle youth, 'tis I weep for her:
Appoint what penance you please: but stay then,
And see me perform it: ask what honour this place
Is able to heap on ye, or what wealth:
If following me will like ye, my care of ye,
Which for your sisters sake, for your own goodness--
_Al._ Not all the honour earth has, now she's gone Lady,
Not all the favour; yet if I sought preferment,
Under your bounteous Grace I would only take it.
Peace rest upon ye: one sad tear every day
For poor _Alindas_. sake, 'tis fit ye pay. [_Exit._
_Oly._ A thousand noble youth, and when I sleep,
Even in my silver slumbers still I'le weep. [_Exit._
SCENA III.
_Enter_ Duke, _and Gentlemen_.
_Duke._ Have ye been with 'em?
_Gent._ Yes, and't please your Grace,
But no perswasion serves 'em, nor no promise,
They are fearfull angry, and by this time Sir,
Upon their march to the Enemy.
_Du._ They must be stopt.
_Enter_ Burris.
_Gent._ I, but what force is able? and what leader--
_Du._ How now, have you been with _Archas_?
_Bur._ Yes, and't please ye,
And told him all: he frets like a chaf'd Lyon,
And calls for his Arms: and all those honest Courtiers
That dare draw Swords.
_Du._ Is he able to do any thing?
_Bur._ His mind is well enough; and where his charge is,
Let him be ne're so sore, 'tis a full Army.
_Du._ Who commands the Rebels?
_Bur._ The young Colonel,
That makes the old man almost mad: he swears Sir,
He will not spare his Sons head for the Dukedom.
_Du._ Is the Court in Arms?
_Bur._ As fast as they can bustle,
Every man mad to goe now: inspir'd strangely,
As if they were to force the Enemy,
I beseech your Grace to give me leave.
_Du._ Pray go Sir,
And look to the old man well; take up all fairly,
And let no bloud be spilt; take general pardons,
And quench this fury with fair peace.
_Bur._ I shall Sir,
Or seal it with my service; they are villains:
The Court is up: good Sir, go strengthen 'em,
Your Royal sight will make 'em scorn all dangers;
The General needs no proof.
_Duke._ Come let's go view 'em. [_Exeunt._
SCENA IV.
_Enter_ Theodore, Putskie, _Ancient_, _Souldiers_, _Drums_,
_and Colours_.
_The._ 'Tis known we are up, and marching: no submission,
No promise of base peace can cure our maladies,
We have suffer'd beyond all repair of honour:
Your valiant old man's whipt; whipt Gentlemen,
Whipt like a slave: that flesh that never trembled,
Nor shrunk one sinew at a thousand charges,
That noble body rib'd in arms, the Enemy
So often shook at, and then shun'd like thunder,
That body's torn with lashes.
_Anc._ Let's turn head.
_Put._ Turn nothing Gentlemen, let's march on fairly,
Unless they charge us.
_The._ Think still of his abuses,
And keep your angers.
_Anc._ He was whipt like a top,
I never saw a whore so lac'd: Court school-butter?
Is this their diet? I'le dress 'em one running banquet:
What Oracle can alter us? did not we see him?
See him we lov'd?
_The._ And though we did obey him,
Forc'd by his reverence for that time; is't fit Gentlemen?
My noble friends, is't fit we men, and Souldiers,
Live to endure this, and look on too?
_Put._ Forward:
They may call back the Sun as soon, stay time,
Prescribe a Law to death, as we endure this.
_The._ They will make ye all fair promises.
_Anc._ We care not.
_The._ Use all their arts upon ye.
_Anc._ Hang all their arts.
_Put._ And happily they'l bring him with 'em.
_Anc._ March apace then,
He is old and cannot overtake us.
_Put._ Say he doe.
_Anc._ We'l run away with him: they shall never see him more:
The truth is, we'l hear nothing, stop at nothing,
Consider nothing but our way; believe nothing,
Not though they say their prayers: be content with nothing,
But the knocking out their brains: and last, do nothing
But ban 'em and curse 'em, till we come to kill 'em.
_The._ Remove then forwards bravely; keep your minds whole,
And the next time we face 'em, shall be fatal. [_Exeunt._
SCENA V.
_Enter_ Archas, _Duke,_ Burris, _Gent_, _and Sould_.
_Ar._ Peace to your Grace; take rest Sir, they are before us.
_Gent._ They are Sir, and upon the march. [_Exit_ Duke.
_Ar._ Lord _Burris_,
Take you those horse and coast 'em: upon the first advantage,
If they will not slake their march, charge 'em up roundly,
By that time I'le come in.
_Bur._ I'le do it truly. [_Exit._
_Gent._ How do you feel your self Sir?
_Ar._ Well, I thank ye;
A little weak, but anger shall supply that;
You will all stand bravely to it?
_All._ Whilst we have lives Sir.
_Ar._ Ye speak like Gentlemen; I'le make the knaves know,
The proudest, and the strongest hearted Rebel,
They have a law to live in, and they shall have;
Beat up a pace, by this time he is upon 'em, [_Drum within._
And sword, but hold me now, thou shalt play ever. [_Exeunt._
_Enter Drums beating_, Theodore, Putskie, _Ancient_,
_and their Souldiers._
_The._ Stand, stand, stand close, and sure;
_Enter_ Burris, _and 1 or 2 Souldiers_.
The horse will charge us.
_Anc._ Let 'em come on, we have provender fit for 'em.
_Put._ Here comes Lord _Burris_ Sir, I think to parly.
_The._ You are welcom noble Sir, I hope to our part.
_Bur._ No, valiant Colonel, I am come to chide ye,
To pity ye; to kill ye, if these fail me;
Fie, what dishonour seek ye! what black infamy!
Why do ye draw out thus? draw all shame with ye?
Are these fit cares in subjects? I command ye
Lay down your arms again, move in that peace,
That fair obedience you were bred in.
_Put._ Charge us:
We come not here to argue.
_The._ Charge up bravely,
And hotly too, we have hot spleens to meet ye,
Hot as the shames are offer'd us.
_Enter_ Archas, _Gent. and Souldiers_.
_Bur._ Look behind ye.
Do you see that old man? do you know him Souldiers?
_Put._ Your Father Sir, believe me--
_Bur._ You know his marches,
You have seen his executions: is it yet peace?
_The._ We'l dye here first.
_Bur._ Farewel: you'l hear on's presently.
_Ar._ Stay _Burris_: this is too poor, too beggerly a body
To bear the honour of a charge from me,
A sort of tatter'd Rebels; go provide Gallowses;
Ye are troubled with hot heads, I'le cool ye presently:
These look like men that were my Souldiers
Now I behold 'em nearly, and more narrowly,
My honest friends: where got they these fair figures?
Where did they steal these shapes?
_Bur._ They are struck already.
_Ar._ Do you see that fellow there, that goodly Rebel?
He looks as like a Captain I lov'd tenderly:
A fellow of a faith indeed.
_Bur._ He has sham'd him.
_Ar._ And that that bears the Colours there, most certain
So like an Ancient of mine own, a brave fellow,
A loving and obedient, that believe me _Burris_,
I am amaz'd and troubled: and were it not
I know the general goodness of my people,
The duty, and the truth, the stedfast honestie,
And am assur'd they would as soon turn Devils
As rebels to allegeance, for mine honour.
_Bur._ Here needs no wars.
_Put._ I pray forgive us Sir.
_Anc._ Good General forgive us, or use your sword,
Your words are double death.
_All._ Good noble General.
_Bur._ Pray Sir be mercifull.
_Ar._ Weep out your shames first,
Ye make me fool for companie: fie Souldiers,
My Souldiers too, and play these tricks? what's he there?
Sure I have seen his face too; yes, most certain
I have a son, but I hope he is not here now,
'Would much resemble this man, wondrous near him,
Just of his height and making too, you seem a Leader.
_The._ Good Sir, do not shame me more: I know your anger,
And less than death I look not for.
_Ar._ You shall be my charge Sir, it seems you want foes,
When you would make your friends your Enemies.
A running bloud ye have, but I shall cure ye.
_Bur._ Good Sir--
_An._ No more good Lord: beat forward Souldiers:
And you, march in the rear, you have lost your places. [_Exeunt._
SCENA VI.
_Enter Duke_, Olympia, Honora, Viola.
_Du._ You shall not be thus sullen still with me Sister,
You do the most unnobly to be angry,
For as I have a soul, I never touch'd her,
I never yet knew one unchast thought in her:
I must confess, I lov'd her: as who would not?
I must confess I doated on her strangely,
I offer'd all, yet so strong was her honour,
So fortifi'd as fair, no hope could reach her,
And whilst the world beheld this, and confirm'd it,
Why would you be so jealous?
_Oly._ Good Sir pardon me,
I feel sufficiently my follies penance,
And am asham'd, that shame a thousand sorrows
Feed on continually, would I had never seen her,
Or with a clearer judgement look'd upon her,
She was too good for me, so heavenly good Sir,
Nothing but Heaven can love that soul sufficiently,
Where I shall see her once again.
_Enter_ Burris.
_Du._ No more tears,
If she be within the Dukedom, we'l recover her:
Welcom Lord _Burris_, fair news I hope.
_Bur._ Most fair Sir,
Without one drop of bloud these wars are ended,
The Souldier cool'd again, indeed asham'd Sir,
And all his anger ended.
_Du._ Where's Lord _Archas_?
_Bur._ Not far off Sir: with him his valiant son,
Head of this fire, but now a prisoner,
And if by your sweet mercy not prevented,
I fear some fatal stroke. [_Drums._
_Enter_ Archas, Theodore, _Gentlemen_, _Souldiers_.
_Du._ I hear the Drums beat,
Welcom, my worthy friend.
_Ar._ Stand where ye are Sir,
Even as you love your country, move not forward,
Nor plead for peace till I have done a justice,
A justice on this villain; none of mine now,
A justice on this Rebel.
_Hon._ O my Brother.
_Ar._ This fatal firebrand--
_Du._ Forget not old man,
He is thy son, of thine own bloud.
_Ar._ In these veins
No treacherie e're harbour'd yet, no mutinie,
I ne're gave life to lewd and headstrong Rebels.
_Du._ 'Tis his first fault.
_Ar._ Not of a thousand Sir,
Or were it so, it is a fault so mightie,
So strong against the nature of all mercy,
His Mother were she living, would not weep for him,
He dare not say he would live.
_The._ I must not Sir,
Whilst you say 'tis not fit: your Graces mercy
Not to my life appli'd, but to my fault Sir,
The worlds forgiveness next, last, on my knees Sir,
I humbly beg,
Do not take from me yet the name of Father,
Strike me a thousand blows, but let me dye yours.
_Ar._ He moves my heart: I must be suddain with him,
I shall grow faint else in my execution;
Come, come Sir, you have seen death; now meet him bravely.
_Du._ Hold, hold I say, a little hold, consider
Thou hast no more sons _Archas_ to inherit thee.
_Ar._ Yes Sir, I have another, and a nobler:
No treason shall inherit me: young _Archas_
A boy, as sweet as young, my Brother breeds him,
My noble Brother _Briskie_ breeds him nobly,
Him let your favour find: give him your honour.
_Enter_ Putskie (_alias_ Briskie) _and_ Alinda,
(_alias_ Archas.)
_Pu._ Thou hast no child left _Archas_, none to inherit thee
If thou strikst that stroke now: behold young _Archas_;
Behold thy Brother here, thou bloudy Brother,
As bloody to this sacrifice as thou art:
Heave up thy sword, and mine's heav'd up: strike _Archas_,
And I'le strike too as suddenly, as deadly:
Have mercy, and I'le have mercy: the Duke gives it.
Look upon all these, how they weep it from thee,
Choose quickly, and begin.
_Du._ On your obedience,
On your allegeance save him.
_Ar._ Take him to ye, [_Soul. shout._
And sirrah, be an honest man, ye have reason:
I thank ye worthy Brother: welcom child,
Mine own sweet child.
_Du._ Why was this boy conceal'd thus?
_Put._ Your graces pardon:
Fearing the vow you made against my Brother,
And that your anger would not only light
On him, but find out all his familie,
This young boy, to preserve from after danger,
Like a young wench, hither I brought; my self
In the habit of an ordinarie Captain
Disguis'd, got entertainment, and serv'd here
That I might still be ready to all fortunes:
That boy your Grace took, nobly entertain'd him,
But thought a Girle, _Alinda_, Madam.
_Ol._ Stand away,
And let me look upon him.
_Du._ My young Mistris?
This is a strange metamorphosis, _Alinda_?
_Al._ Your graces humble servant.
_Du._ Come hither Sister:
I dare yet scarce believe mine eyes: how they view one another?
Dost thou not love this boy well?
_Oly._ I should lye else,
Trust me, extreamly lye Sir.
_Du._ Didst thou never wish _Olympia_,
It might be thus?
_Oly._ A thousand times.
_Du._ Here take him:
Nay, do not blush: I do not jest; kiss sweetly:
Boy, ye kiss faintly boy; Heaven give ye comfort;
Teach him, he'l quickly learn: there's two hearts eas'd now.
_Ar._ You do me too much honour Sir.
_Du._ No _Archas_,
But all I can, I will; can you love me? speak truly.
_Hon._ Yes Sir, dearly.
_Du._ Come hither _Viola_, can you love this man?
_Vio._ I'le do the best I can Sir.
_Du._ Seal it _Burris_,
We'l all to Church together instantly:
And then a vie for boyes; stay, bring _Boroskie_.
_Enter_ Boroskie.
I had almost forgot that lump of mischief.
There _Archas_, take the enemie to honour,
The knave to worth: do with him what thou wilt.
_Ar._ Then to my sword again; you to your prayers;
Wash off your villanies, you feel the burthen.
_Bor._ Forgive me e're I die, most honest _Archas_;
'Tis too much honour that I perish thus;
O strike my faults to kill them, that no memorie,
No black and blasted infamy hereafter----
_Ar._ Come, are ye ready?
_Bor._ Yes.
_Ar._ And truly penitent, to make your way straight?
_Bor._ Thus I wash off my sins.
_Ar._ Stand up, and live then,
And live an honest man; I scorn mens ruines:
Take him again, Sir, trie him: and believe
This thing will be a perfect man.
_Du._ I take him.
_Bor._ And when I fail those hopes, heavens hopes fail me.
_Du._ You are old: no more wars Father:
_Theodore_ take you the charge, be General.
_The._ All good bless ye.
_Du._ And my good Father, you dwell in my bosom,
From you rise all my good thoughts: when I would think
And examine time for one that's fairly noble,
And the same man through all the streights of vertue,
Upon this Silver book I'le look, and read him.
Now forward merrily to _Hymens_ rites,
To joyes, and revels, sports, and he that can
Most honour _Archas_, is the noblest man. [_Exeunt._
Prologue.
_We need not noble Gentlemen to invite
Attention, preinstruct you who did write
This worthy Story, being confident
The mirth join'd with grave matter, and Intent
To yield the hearers profit, with delight,
Will speak the maker: and to do him right,
Would ask a Genius like to his; the age
Mourning his loss, and our now widdowed stage
In vain lamenting. I could adde, so far
Behind him the most modern writers are,
That when they would commend him, their best praise
Ruins the buildings which they strive to raise
To his best memory, so much a friend
Presumes to write, secure 'twill not offend
The living that are modest, with the rest
That may repine he cares not to contest.
This debt to_ Fletcher _paid; it is profest
By us the Actors, we will do our best
To send such favouring friends, as hither come
To grace the Scene, pleas'd, and contented home._
Epilogue.
_Though something well assur'd, few here repent
Three hours of pretious time, or money spent
On our endeavours, Yet not to relye
Too much upon our care, and industrie,
'Tis fit we should ask, but a modest way
How you approve our action in the play.
If you vouchsafe to crown it with applause,
It is your bountie, and you give us cause
Hereafter with a general consent
To study, as becomes us, your content._
* * * * *
p. #47#, l. 9. _Adds_ Finis Actus Tertii.
l. 11. Servant and R. Bax, and.
l. 12. A stirs a stirs.
l. 26. barkes.
p. #48#, l. 34. and whom.
p. #49#, l. 26. his fierce.
l. 29. roome then.
l. 30. and old.
l. 33. your rare.
l. 37. her Ladies.
p. #50#, l. 12. I must.
p. #51#, l. 2. has.
l. 7. 2nd folio _misprints_] Philax.
p. #52#, l. 1. _Adds as follows_]
_Clo._ Why that ye wo't of,
_Chi._ The turne the good turne?
_Clo._ Any turne the Roche turne;
_Chi._ That's the right turne for that turnes up the
bellie, I cannot, _etc._
l. 17. as brickle.
l. 20. That think no.
p. #55#, l. 7. ath'.
l. 8. ath' the.
l. 17. weaker.
l. 29. a that.
l. 38. a will.
p. #56#, l. 26. 2nd folio _misprints_] ne's.
l. 29. A comes.
l. 35. stand up my.
p. #57#, l. 14. rogue.
l. 21. art ta?
l. 23. art ta?
l. 32. thou art a.
l. 39. doe ye.
p. #58#, l. 18. Lyons.
l. 26. _Adds_ Finis Actus Quarti.
l. 28. Priest.
l. 30. a your.
p. #60#, l. 9. cure this.
l. 10. He's man.
l. 12. is now.
l. 16. Oracle, Arras.
p. #61#, l. 36. therefore, thy.
p. #62#, l. 3. Therefore be.
l. 9. I shall.
l. 19. a had.
l. 36. 2nd folio] ha'!
p. #63#, l. 6. A will.
l. 14. makes he.
l. 28. Battell.
p. #64#, l. 2. _Omits_ and.
l. 7. in boyes in boyes.
l. 38. 2nd folio _misprints_] Cle.
p. #65#, l. 17. _Omits_ her.
p. #67#, l. 10. 2nd folio _omits_] Chi. (_char._).
l. 10. Chickens.
l. 24. weepes.
l. 26. A was.
l. 27. Ye have.
p. #69#, l. 8. and like.
l. 33. Cleanthe, Curtisan, Lords.
p. #70#, l. 6. my glorious.
l. 34. a sight.
l. 36. ye could. _Adds as next line_]
Roome before there. _Knock._
p. #71#, l. 8. _Prints_ To the, etc., _as a separate line and as
a heading_.
l. 9. _For_ Eum. _reads_ 1. Cap.
p. #73#, l. 15. lov'st her.
l. 31. 2nd folio] Sister!
p. #75#, l. 13. the Saylors sing.
l. 28. utters.
l. 32. _Adds_ Finis.
THE LOYAL SUBJECT.
p. #76#, ll. 3-40. Not in 1st folio.
p. #78#, l. 14. Archus.
l. 15. souldier.
l. 23. Archus.
l. 37. now you.
p. #79#, l. 4. 2nd folio _misprints_] Pet.
p. #80#, l. 24. eyes.
p. #82#, l. 4. But to.
l. 31. 2nd folio _misprints_] Augel.
p. #84#, l. 35. 2nd folio _misprints_] Gentlenem.
p. #86#, l. 2. pray ye be.
l. 38. thanke high heaven.
p. #87#, l. 1. 2nd folio] in'?
l. 30. _Omits_ Exit.
p. #90#, l. 4. a pieces.
l. 30. beseech yee.
p. #91#, l. 6. marvelous fine.
p. #92#, l. 8. too late to.
l. 10. tremble.
l. 30. _Adds_ Exeunt.
p. #94#, l. 14. Of every.
p. #96#, l. 18. 2nd folio _misprints_] may.
l. 34. and 'has.
l. 38. And noise.
p. #97#, l. 23. who, for.
l. 25. And shewrd.
p. #103#, l. 35. 2nd folio _misprints_] Lorship.
p. #106#, l. 16. 2nd folio] feed then.
p. #107#, l. 18. it fits so.
p. #112#, l. 8. fishmarket.
l. 28. paintings.
l. 32. 2nd folio _misprints_] Aac.
p. #113#, l. 30. 'has.
l. 34. blame ye.
p. #114#, l. 34. 'Has.
p. #115#, l. 3. ye see.
l. 28. me Armes.
l. 38. None, none my Lord.
p. #116#, l. 1. Thanke ye.
l. 18. me too far.
l. 31. he is.
p. #117#, l. 21. content like harmles.
p. #118#, l. 17. the fashion to.
p. #119#, l. 21. ungrased.
l. 38. 2nd folio _misprints_] Is.
p. #120#, l. 34. art not mad.
p. #123#, l. 37. serv'd yee.
p. #124#, l. 11. _Omits_ do.
l. 15. women.
l. 21. thinke ye.
p. #125#, l. 1. it; 'sod if.
l. 24. Wickedly.
p. #127#, l. 16. yeare.
p. #128#, l. 9. _Reads stage direction_] Exit.
p. #130#, l. 6. 2nd folio _misprints_] Bur.
l. 10. _Omits_ please.
p. #134#, l. 31. hast ruine.
p. #136#, l. 31. _The catchword at the foot of the page in the
1st folio is_ And.
p. #138#, l. 37. 2nd folio] Broms.
p. #139#, l. 1. no trade.
l. 7. 2nd folio] traeds.
p. #140#, l. 27. of your.
p. #141#, l. 37. thats that.
l. 39. 2nd folio _misprints_] Hoa.
p. #142#, l. 30. 2nd folio _misprints_] Dou.
p. #146#, l. 18. tal.
p. #147#, l. 22. _Omits_ are.
p. #148#, l. 36. till ye.
p. #149#, l. 40. _Adds_ Exit.
p. #150#, l. 8. that told.
l. 18. 2nd folio _misprints_] guily.
p. #151#, l. 13. Sword.
l. 31. and Kits.
l. 36. well meet.
p. #153#, l. 15. 'May do.
l. 25. see these.
p. #154#, l. 9. beleeve ye.
l. 22. not we.
p. #155#, l. 31. Archas yet?
p. #157#, l. 10. Pray you.
l. 27. shines.
p. #162#, l. 29. not slacke.
p. #167#, l. 22. The boy.
p. #168#, l. 38. Hymens rights.
p. #169#, l. 34. _Adds_ Finis.
RULE A WIFE, AND HAVE A WIFE.
The Dramatis Personae are not given in the quarto of 1640 nor in the 2nd
folio. They are as follows:--Duke of Medina. Juan de Castro, Sanchio,
Alonzo, Michael Perez, Officers. Leon, Altea's brother. Cacafogo, a
userer. Lorenzo. Coachman, etc. Margarita. Altea. Estifania. Clara.
Three old ladies. Old woman. Maids, etc.
Unless where otherwise stated the following variations are from the
quarto of 1640, the title-page of which runs thus:--
Rule a Wife | And have a Wife. | A comoedy. | Acted by his | Majesties
Servants. | Written by | John Fletcher | Gent. | Oxford, | Printed by
Leonard Lichfield | Printer to the University. | Anno 1640.
p. #170#, l. 30. mouth.
p. #171#, l. 14. most sublest.
l. 18. With yee.
l. 19. them.
l. 38. _and often elsewhere_] um _for_ 'em.
p. #172#, l. 2. the picke.
p. #173#, l. 22. thank ye.
p. #175#, l. 1. Yes I.
l. 29. Exit.
l. 31. mine ayme.
p. #176#, l. 30. 2nd folio _prints_] calling. | And
p. #178#, l. 10. a starv'd.
l. 22. look'st.
l. 24. 2nd folio _misprints_] hear.
p. #179#, l. 33. Or any.
p. #182#, ll. 6, etc. Quarto _frequently prints_ 4. _for_ Altea _here
and in similar places_.
l. 33. doubty.
p. #183#, l. 2. Has not.
l. 3. 2nd folio _misprints_] hin.
l. 5. Has no.
l. 38. 2nd folio _misprints_] compaines.
p. #184#, l. 13. a house.
p. #185#, l. 2. Altea, the Ladies.
l. 4. has been.
p. #187#, l. 26. I finde.
p. #189#, l. 28. enter'd here.
l. 39. salute him.
p. #190#, l. 25. if she.
p. #194#, ll. 8 and 11. _Omits_ Lady _here and often similarly
elsewhere_.
p. #196#, l. 26. Exit.
p. #197#, l. 20. basinesse.