SCENE XI.

_Enter_ Frederick, _and_ Peter, (_with a candle_.)

_Fred._ Give me the candle: so, go you out that way.

_Peter._ What have we now to do?

_Fred._ And o' your life Sirrah,

Let none come near the door without my knowledge,

No not my Landlady, nor my friend.

_Peter._ 'Tis done Sir.

_Fred._ Nor any serious business that concerns me.

_Peter._ Is the wind there again?

_Fred._ Be gone.

_Peter._ I am Sir. [_Exit._

_Enter_ Constantia.

_Fre._ Now enter without fear.--And noble Lady

That safety and civility ye wish'd for

Shall truly here attend you: no rude tongue

Nor rough behaviour knows this place, no wishes

Beyond the moderation of a man,

Dare enter here; your own desires and Innocence,

Joyn'd to my vow'd obedience, shall protect you,

Were dangers more than doubts.

_Const._ Ye are truly noble,

And worth a womans trust: let it become me,

(I do beseech you, Sir) for all your kindness,

To render with my thanks, this worthless trifle;

I may be longer troublesome.

_Fred._ Fair offices

Are still their own rewards: Heav'n bless me Lady

From selling civil courtesies: may it please ye,

If ye will force a favour to oblige me,

Draw but that cloud aside, to satisfie me

For what good Angel I am engag'd.

_Const._ It shall be,

For I am truly confident ye are honest:

The Piece is scarce worth looking on.

_Fred._ Trust me

The abstract of all beauty, soul of sweetness,

Defend me honest thoughts, I shall grow wild else:

What eyes are there, rather what little heavens,

To stir mens contemplations! what a Paradise

Runs through each part she has! good bloud be temperate:

I must look off: too excellent an object

Confounds the sense that sees it. Noble Lady,

If there be any further service to cast on me,

Let it be worth my life, so much I honour ye,

Or the engagement of whole Families.

_Const._ Your service is too liberal, worthy Sir,

Thus far I shall entreat.

_Fred._ Command me Lady,

You make your power too poor.

_Const._ That presently

With all convenient haste, you would retire

Unto the street you found me in.

_Fred._ 'Tis done.

_Const._ There, if you find a Gentleman opprest

With force and violence, do a mans office,

And draw your sword to rescue him.

_Fred._ He's safe,

Be what he will, and let his foes be Devils,

Arm'd with your pity, I shall conjure 'em.

Retire, this key will guide ye: all things necessary

Are there before ye.

_Const._ All my prayers go with ye. [_Exit._

_Fred._ Ye clap on proof upon me: men say gold

Does all, engages all, works through all dangers:

Now I say beauty can do more: The Kings Exchequer,

Nor all his wealthy _Indies_, could not draw me

Through half those miseries this piece of pleasure

Might make me leap into: we are all like sea-Cards,

All our endeavours and our motions,

(As they do to the North) still point at beauty,

Still at the fairest: for a handsom woman,

(Setting my soul aside) it should go hard,

But I would strain my body: yet to her,

Unless it be her own free gratitude,

Hopes ye shall dye, and thou tongue rot within me,

E're I infringe my faith: now to my rescue. [_Exit._

_Actus Secundus. Scena Prima._

_Enter_ Duke, _pursued by_ Petruccio, Antonio,

_and that Faction_.

_Duke._ You will not all oppress me?

_Ant._ Kill him i'th' wanton eye: let me come to him.

_Duke._ Then ye shall buy me dearly.

_Petr._ Say you so Sir?

_Ant._ I say cut his Wezand, spoil his piping;

Have at your love-sick heart Sir.

_Enter Don_ John.

_John._ Sure 'tis fighting.

My friend may be engag'd: fie Gentlemen,

This is unmanly odds.

_Ant._ I'le stop your mouth Sir.

[Du. _fals down_, _Don_ John _bestrides him_.

_John._ Nay, then have at thee freely:

There's a plumb Sir to satisfie your longing.

_Petr._ Away: I hope I have sped him: here comes rescue,

We shall be endangered: where's _Antonio_?

_Ant._ I must have one thrust more Sir.

_John._ Come up to me.

_Ant._ A mischief confound your fingers.

_Petr._ How is't?

_Ant._ Well:

Ha's given me my _quietus est_, I felt him

In my small guts, I'me sure, has feez'd me:

This comes of siding with ye.

_2 Gent._ Can you go Sir?

_Ant._ I should go man, and my head were off,

Never talk of going.

_Petr._ Come, all shall be well then,

I hear more rescue coming.

_Enter the_ Dukes _Faction_.

_Ant._ Let's turn back then;

My skull's uncloven yet, let me but kill.

_Petr._ Away for Heaven sake with him.

_John._ How is't?

_Duke._ Well Sir,

Only a little stagger'd.

_Faction Duke._ Let's pursue 'em.

_Du._ No not a man, I charge ye: thanks good coat,

Thou hast sav'd me a shrewd welcom: 'twas put home too,

With a good mind I'me sure on't.

_John._ Are ye safe then?

_Duke._ My thanks to you brave Sir, whose timely valour,

And manly courtesie came to my rescue.

_John._ Ye'had foul play offer'd ye, and shame befal him

That can pass by oppression.

_Duke._ May I crave Sir,

But thus much honour more, to know your name?

And him I am so bound to?

_John._ For the Bond Sir,

'Tis every good mans tye: to know me further

Will little profit ye; I am a stranger,

My Country _Spain_; my name _Don John_, a Gentleman

That lye here for my study.

_Duke._ I have heard Sir,

Much worthy mention of ye, yet I find

Fame short of what ye are.

_John._ You are pleas'd Sir,

To express your courtesie: may I demand

As freely what you are, and what mischance

Cast you into this danger?

_Duke._ For this present

I must desire your pardon: you shall know me

E're it be long Sir, and a nobler thanks

Than now my will can render.

_John._ Your will's your own Sir.

_Duke._ What is't you look for sir, have you lost any thing?

_John._ Only my hat i'th' scuffle; sure these fellows

Were night-snaps.

_Duke._ No, believe Sir: pray ye use mine,

For 'twill be hard to find your own now.

_John._ No Sir.

_Du._ Indeed ye shall, I can command another:

I do beseech ye honour me.

_John._ I will Sir,

And so I'le take my leave.

_Duke._ Within these few days

I hope I shall be happy in your knowledge,

Till when I love your memory. [_Exit_ Duke, _&c._

_John._ I yours.

This is some noble fellow.

_Enter_ Frederick.

_Fred._ 'Tis [h]is tongue sure.

_Don John_?

_John._ _Don Frederick_?

_Fred._ Ye're fairly met Sir:

I thought ye had been a Bat-fowling: prethee tell me,

What Revelations hast thou had to night,

That home was never thought of?

_John._ Revelations?

I'le tell thee _Frederick_, but before I tell thee,

Settle thy understanding.

_Fred._ 'Tis prepar'd, Sir.

_John._ Why then mark what shall follow. This night _Frederick_,

This bawdy night.

_Fred._ I thought no less.

_John._ This blind night,

What dost think I have got?

_Fred._ The Pox it may be.

_John._ Would 'twere no worse: ye talk of Revelations,

I have got a Revelation will reveal me

An arrant Coxcomb while I live.

_Fred._ What is't?

Thou hast lost nothing?

_John._ No, I have got I tell thee.

_Fred._ What hast thou got?

_John._ One of the Infantry, a child.

_Fred._ How?

_John._ A chopping child, man.

_Fred._ 'Give ye joy, Sir.

_John._ A lump of lewdness _Frederick_, that's the truth on't:

This Town's abominable.

_Fred._ I still told ye _John_

Your whoring must come home; I counsell'd ye:

But where no grace is--

_John._ 'Tis none o' mine, man.

_Fred._ Answer the Parish so.

_John._ Cheated introth:

Peeping into a house, by whom I know not,

Nor where to find the place again: no _Frederick_,

Had I but kist the ring for't; 'tis no poor one,

That's my best comfort, for't has brought about it

Enough to make it man.

_Fred._ Where is't?

_John._ At home.

_Fred._ A saving voyage: But what will you say Signior,

To him that searching out your serious worship,

Has met a stranger fortune?

_John._ How, good _Frederick_?

A militant girle now to this boy would hit it?

_Fred._ No, mine's a nobler venture: What do you think Sir

Of a distressed Lady, one whose beauty

Would oversell all _Italy_?

_John._ Where is she--

_Fred._ A woman of that rare behaviour,

So qualified, as admiration

Dwells round about her: of that perfect spirit--

_John._ I marry Sir.

_Fred._ That admirable carriage,

That sweetness in discourse; young as the morning,

Her blushes staining his.

_John._ But where's this creature?

Shew me but that.

_Fred._ That's all one, she's forth-coming,

I have her sure Boy.

_John._ Hark ye _Frederick_,

What truck betwixt my Infant?

_Fred._ 'Tis too light Sir,

Stick to your charges good _Don John_, I am well.

_John._ But is there such a wench?

_Fred._ First tell me this,

Did ye not lately as ye walk'd along,

Discover people that were arm'd, and likely

To do offence?

_John._ Yes marry, and they urg'd it

As far as they had spirit.

_Fred._ Pray go forward.

_Joh._ A Gentleman I found ingag'd amongst 'em,

It seems of noble breeding, I'm sure brave metal,

As I return'd to look you, I set in to him,

And without hurt (I thank heaven) rescued him,

And came my self off safe too.

_Fred._ My work's done then:

And now to satisfie you, there is a woman,

Oh _John_, there is a woman--

_John._ Oh, where is she?

_Fred._ And one of no less worth than I assure ye;

And which is more, fain under my protection.

_John._ I am glad of that: forward sweet _Frederick_.

_Fred._ And which is more than that, by this nights wandring,

And which is most of all, she is at home too Sir.

_John._ Come, let's be gone then.

_Fred._ Yes, but 'tis most certain,

You cannot see her, _John_.

_John._ Why?

_Fred._ She has sworn me

That none else shall come near her: not my Mother,

Till some few doubts are clear'd.

_John._ Not look upon her? What chamber is she in?

_Fred._ In ours.

_John._ Let's go I say:

A womans oaths are wafers, break with making,

They must for modestie a little: we all know it.

_Fred._ No, I'le assure you Sir.

_John._ Not see her?

I smell an old dog trick of yours, well _Frederick_,

Ye talkt to me of whoring, let's have fair play,

Square dealing I would wish ye.

_Fred._ When 'tis come,

(Which I know never will be) to that issue,

Your spoon shall be as deep as mine Sir.

_John._ Tell me,

And tell me true, is the cause honourable,

Or for your ease?

_Fred._ By all our friendship, _John_,

'Tis honest, and of great end.

_John._ I am answer'd:

But let me see her though: leave the door open

As ye go in.

_Fred._ I dare not.

_John._ Not wide open,

But just so, as a jealous husband

Would level at his wanton wife through.

_Fred._ That courtesie,

If ye desire no more, and keep it strictly,

I dare afford ye: come, 'tis now near morning. [_Exit._

SCENE II.

_Enter_ Peter, _and_ Anthony.

_Pet._ Nay the old woman's gone too.

_Ant._ She's a Catterwauling

Among the gutters: But conceive me, _Peter_,

Where our good Masters should be?

_Pet._ Where they should be

I do conceive, but where they are, good _Anthony_--

_Ant._ I, there it goes: my Masters bo-peep with me,

With his slye popping in and out again,

Argued a cause, a frippery cause.

_Pet._ Believe me,

They bear up with some carvel.

_Ant._ I do believe thee,

For thou hast such a Master for that chase,

That till he spend his main Mast--

_Pet._ Pray remember

Your courtesie good _Anthony_, and withal,

How long 'tis since your Master sprung a leak,

He had a sound one since he came. [_Lute sounds within._

_Ant._ Hark.

_Pet._ What?

_Ant._ Dost not hear a Lute?

Again?

_Pet._ Where is't?

_Ant._ Above in my Masters chamber.

_Pet._ There's no creature: he hath the key himself man.

SING _within_.

_Merciless Love, whom nature hath deny'd_

_The use of eyes, lest thou should'st take a pride_

_And glorie in thy murthers: Why am I_

_That never yet transgress'd thy deity,_

_Never broke vow, from whose eyes never_

_Flew disdainfull dart_

_Whose hard heart never,_

_Slew those rewarders?_

_Thou art young and fair,_

_Thy Mother soft and gentle as the air,_

_Thy holy fire still burning, blown with praier._

_Then everlasting Love restrain thy will_

_'Tis God-like to have power but not to kill._

_Ant._ This is his Lute: let him have it.

_Pet._ I grant you; but who strikes it?

_Ant._ An admirable voice too, hark ye.

_Pet._ _Anthony_,

Art sure we are at home?

_Ant._ Without all doubt, _Peter_.

_Pet._ Then this must be the Devil.

_Ant._ Let it be, [_Sing again._

Good Devil sing again: O dainty Devil!

_Peter_ believe it, a most delicate Devil,

The sweetest Devil--

_Enter_ Frederick, _and Don_ John.

_Fred._ If ye could leave peeping.

_John._ I cannot by no means.

_Fred._ Then come in softly,

And as ye love your faith, presume no further

Than ye have promised.

_John._ _Basta._

_Fred._ What make you up so early Sir?

_John._ You Sir in your contemplations.

_Pet._ O pray ye peace Sir.

_Fred._ Why peace Sir?

_Pet._ Do you hear?

_John._ 'Tis your Lute.

_Fred._ Pray ye speak softly,

She's playing on't.

_Ant._ The house is haunted Sir,

For this we have heard this half year.

_Fred._ Ye saw nothing?

_Ant._ Not I.

_Pet._ Nor I Sir.

_Fred._ Get us our breakfast then,

And make no words on't; we'll undertake this spirit,

If it be one.

_Ant._ This is no Devil _Peter_. [_Sing. Exeunt Servants._

Mum, there be Bats abroad.

_Fred._ Stay, now she sings.

_John._ An Angels voice I'le swear.

_Fred._ Why did'st thou shrug so?

Either allay this heat; or as I live

I will not trust ye.

_John._ Pass: I warrant ye. [_Exeunt._

_Enter_ Constantia.

_Con._ To curse those stars, that men say govern us,

To rail at fortune, fall out with my Fate,

And tax the general world, will help me nothing:

Alas, I am the same still, neither are they

Subject to helps, or hurts: Our own desires

Are our own fates, our own stars, all our fortunes,

Which as we sway 'em, so abuse, or bless us.

_Enter_ Frederick, _and Don_ John, _peeping_.

_Fred._ Peace to your meditations.

_John._ Pox upon ye,

Stand out o'th' light.

_Const._ I crave your mercy Sir,

My minde o're-charg'd with care made me unmannerly.

_Fred._ Pray ye set that mind at rest, all shall be perfect.

_John._ I like the body rare; a handsom body,

A wondrous handsom body: would she would turn:

See, and that spightful puppy be not got

Between me and my light again.

_Fred._ 'Tis done,

As all that you command shall be: the Gentleman

Is safely off all danger.

_John._ _O de dios._

_Const._ How shall I thank ye Sir? how satisfie?

_Fr._ Speak softly, gentle Lady, all's rewarded,

Now does he melt like Marmalad.

_John._ Nay, 'tis certain,

Thou art the sweetest woman I e're look'd on:

I hope thou art not honest.

_Fred._ None disturb'd ye?

_Const._ Not any Sir, nor any sound came near me,

I thank your care.

_Fred._ 'Tis well.

_John._ I would fain pray now,

But the Devil and that flesh there, o' the world,

What are we made to suffer?

_Fred._ He'll enter;

Pull in your head and be hang'd.

_John._ Hark ye _Frederick_,

I have brought ye home your Pack-saddle.

_Fred._ Pox upon ye.

_Con._ Nay let him enter: fie my Lord the Duke,

Stand peeping at your friends.

_Fred._ Ye are cozen'd Lady,

Here is no Duke.

_Const._ I know him full well Signior.

_John._ Hold thee there wench.

_Fred._ This mad-brain'd fool will spoil all.

_Const._ I do beseech your grace come in.

_John._ My Grace,

There was a word of comfort.

_Fred._ Shall he enter?

Who e're he be?

_John._ Well follow'd _Frederick_.

_Const._ With all my heart.

_Fred._ Come in then.

_Enter Don_ John.

_John._ 'Bless ye Lady.

_Fr._ Nay start not, though he be a stranger to ye,

He's of a noble strain, my kinsman, Lady,

My Country-man, and fellow Traveller,

One bed contains us ever, one purse feeds us,

And one faith free between us; do not fear him,

He's truly honest.

_John._ That's a lye.

_Fred._ And trusty:

Beyond your wishes: valiant to defend,

And modest to converse with, as your blushes.

_Jo._ Now may I hang my self; this commendation

Has broke the neck of all my hopes: for now

Must I cry, no forsooth, and I forsooth, and surely,

And truly as I live, and as I am honest.

Has done these things for 'nonce too; for he knows

Like a most envious Rascal as he is,

I am not honest, nor desire to be,

Especially this way: h'as watch'd his time,

But I shall quit him.

_Const._ Sir, I credit ye.

_Fred._ Go kiss her _John_.

_John._ Plague o' your commendations.

_Const._ Sir, I shall now desire to be a trouble.

_John._ Never to me, sweet Lady: Thus I seal

My faith, and all my service.

_Const._ One word Signior.

_John._ Now 'tis impossible I should be honest,

She kisses with a conjuration

Would make the Devil dance: what points she at?

My leg I warrant, or my well knit body,

Sit fast _Don Frederick_.

_Fred._ 'Twas given him by that Gentleman

You took such care of; his own being lost i'th' scuffle.

_Con._ With much joy may he wear it: 'tis a right one,

I can assure ye Gentleman, and right happy

May you be in all fights for that fair service.

_Fred._ Why do ye blush?

_Const._ 'T had almost cozen'd me,

For not to lye, when I saw that, I look'd for

Another Master of it: but 'tis well. [_Knock within._

_Fred._ Who's there?

_Enter_ Anthony.

Stand ye a little close: Come in Sir, [_Exit Const._

Now what's the news with you?

_Anth._ There is a Gentleman without,

Would speak with _Don John_.

_John._ Who Sir?

_Ant._ I do not know Sir, but he shews a man

Of no mean reckoning.

_Fred._ Let him shew his name,

And then return a little wiser.

_Ant._ Well Sir. [_Exit_ Anthony.

_Fred._ How do you like her _John_?

_John._ As well as you _Frederick_,

For all I am honest: you shall find it so too.

_Fred._ Art thou not honest?

_John._ Art thou an Ass?

And modest as her blushes? What block-head

Would e're have popt out such a dry Apologie,

For his dear friend? and to a Gentlewoman,

A woman of her youth, and delicacy.

They are arguments to draw them to abhor us.

An honest moral man? 'tis for a Constable:

A handsome man, a wholsome man, a tough man,

A liberal man, a likely man, a man

Made up like _Hercules_, unslak'd with service:

The same to night, to morrow night, the next night,

And so to perpetuitie of pleasures,

These had been things to hearken to, things catching:

But you have such a spic'd consideration,

Such qualms upon your worships conscience,

Such chil-blains in your bloud, that all things pinch ye,

Which nature, and the liberal world makes custom,

And nothing but fair honour, O sweet honor,

Hang up your Eunuch honour: That I was trusty,

And valiant, were things well put in; but modest!

A modest Gentleman! O wit where wast thou?

_Fred._ I am sorrie _John_.

_John._ My Ladies Gentlewoman

Would laugh me to a S[c]hool-boy, make me blush

With playing with my Codpiece point: fie on thee,

A man of thy discretion?

_Fred._ It shall be mended:

And henceforth ye shall have your due.

_Enter_ Anthony.

_John._ I look for't: How now, who is't?

_Ant._ A Gentleman of this Town

And calls himself _Petrucchio_.

_Enter_ Constantia.

_John._ I'le attend him.

_Const._ How did he call himself?

_Fre._ _Petrucchio_,

Does it concern you ought?

_Const._ O Gentlemen,

The hour of my destruction is come on me,

I am discover'd, lost, left to my ruine:

As ever ye had pity--

_John._ Do not fear,

Let the great devil come, he shall come through me:

Lost here, and we about ye?

_Fred._ Fall before us?

_Const._ O my unfortunate estate, all angers

Compar'd to his, to his--

_Fred._ Let his, and all mens,

Whilst we have power and life--stand up for heaven sake.

_Con._ I have offended heaven too; yet heaven knows--

_John._ We are all evil:

Yet Heaven forbid we should have our deserts.

What is he?

_Con._ Too too near to my offence Sir;

O he will cut me piece-meal.

_Fred._ 'Tis no Treason?

_John._ Let it be what it will, if he cut here,

I'le find him cut-work.

_Fred._ He must buy you dear,

With more than common lives.

_John._ Fear not, nor weep not:

By heaven I'le fire the Town before ye perish,

And then, the more the merrier, we'l jog with ye.

_Fred._ Come in, and dry your eyes.

_John._ Pray no more weeping:

Spoil a sweet face for nothing? my return

Shall end all this I warrant you.

_Const._ Heaven grant it. [_Exeunt._

SCENE III.

_Enter_ Petrucchio, _with a Letter_.

_Petr._ This man should be of special rank:

For these commends carry no common way,

No slight worth with 'em:

He shall be he.

_Enter Don_ John.

_John._ 'Save ye Sir: I am sorrie

My business was so unmannerly, to make ye

Wait thus long here.

_Petr._ Occasions must be serv'd Sir:

But is your name _Don John_?

_John._ It is Sir.

_Petr._ Then,

First, for your own brave sake I must embrace ye:

Next, from the credit of your noble friend

_Hernando de Alvara_, make ye mine:

Who lays his charge upon me in this Letter

To look ye out, and for the goodness in ye,

Whilst your occasions make ye resident

In this place, to supply ye, love and honour ye;

Which had I know[n] sooner--

_John._ Noble Sir,

You'l make my thanks too poor: I wear a sword, Sir,

And have a service to be still dispos'd of,

As you shall please command it.

_Petr._ Gentle Sir,

That manly courtesie is half my business:

And to be short, to make ye know I honour ye,

And in all points believe your worth like Oracle,

And how above my friends, which are not few,

And those not slack, I estimate your vertues,

Make your self understand, This day _Petrucchio_,

A man that may command the strength of this place,

Hazard the boldest spirits, hath made choice

Only of you, and in a noble office.

_John._ Forward, I am free to entertain it.

_Petr._ Thus then:

I do beseech ye mark me.

_John._ I shall do it.

_Petr._ _Ferrara's_ Duke, would I might call him worthie,

But that he has raz'd out from his family,

As he has mine with Infamie, This man,

Rather this powerfull Monster, we being left

But two of all our house, to stock our memories,

My Sister, and my self; with arts, and witchcrafts,

Vows, and such oaths heaven has no mercy for,

Drew to dishonour this weak maid, by stealths,

And secret passages I knew not of,

Oft he obtain'd his wishes, oft abus'd her:

I am asham'd to say the rest: This purchas'd,

And his hot bloud allay'd, as friends forsake us

At a miles end upon our way, he left her,

And all our name to ruine.

_John._ This was foul Play,

And ought to be rewarded so.

_Petr._ I hope so;

He scap'd me yester-night: which if he dare

Again adventure for, Heaven pardon him,

I shall with all my heart.

_John._ For me, brave Signior,

What do ye intend?

_Petr._ Only, fair Sir, this trust,

Which from the commendations of this Letter,

I dare presume well plac'd, nobly to bear him

By word of mouth a single challenge from me,

That man to man, if he have honour in him,

We may decide all difference.

_John._ Fair, and noble,

And I will do it home: When shall I visite ye?

_Petr._ Please you this after-noon, I will ride with you:

For at a Castle six miles hence, we are sure

To find him.

_John._ I'le be ready.

_Petr._ To attend ye,

My man shall wait: with all my love. [_Ex._ Petr.

_John._ My service shall not fail ye.

_Enter_ Frederick.

_Fred._ How now?

_John._ All's well: who dost thou think this wench is?

Ghess, and thou canst?

_Fred._ I cannot.

_John._ Be it known then,

To all men by these presents, this is she,

She, she, and only she, our curious coxcombs

Were errant two moneths after.

_Fred._ Who, _Constantia_?

Thou talk'st of Cocks and Bulls.

_John._ I talk of wenches,

Of cocks and Hens _Don Frederick_; this is the Pullet

We two went proud after.

_Fred._ It cannot be.

_John._ It shall be;

Sister to _Don Petrucchio_: I know all man.

_Fred._ Now I believe.

_John._ Go to, there has been stirring,

Fumbling with Linnen _Frederick_.

_Fred._ 'Tis impossible,

You know her fame was pure as fire.

_John._ That pure fire

Has melted out her maiden-head: she is crackt:

We have all that hope of our side, boy.

_Fred._ Thou tell'st me,

To my imagination, things incredible:

I see no loose thought in her.

_John._ That's all one,

She is loose i'th' hilts by heaven: but the world must know

A fair way, upon vow of marriage.

_Fred._ There may be such a slip.

_John._ And will be, _Frederick_,

Whil'st the old game's a foot: I fear the boy

Will prove hers too I took up.

_Fred._ Good circumstance

May cure all this yet.

_John._ There thou hitst it, _Frederick_:

Come, let's walk in and comfort her: her being here

Is nothing yet suspected: anon I'le tell thee

Wherefore her Brother came, who by this light

Is a brave noble fellow, and what honour

H'as done to me a stranger: there be Irons

Heating for some, will hiss into their heart blouds,

E're all be ended; so much for this time.

_Fred._ Well Sir. [_Exeunt._

_Actus Tertius. Scena Prima._

_Enter Land-lady, and_ Peter.

_Land._ Come, ye do know.

_Pet._ I do not by this hand Mistris.

But I suspect.

_Land._ What?

_Peter._ That if egges continue

At this price, women will ne're be sav'd

By their good works.

_Land._ I will know.

_Peter._ Ye shall, any thing

Lyes in my power: The Duke of _Loraine_ now

Is seven thousand strong: I heard it of a fish-wife,

A woman of fine knowledge.

_Land._ Sirrah, Sirrah.

_Pet._ The Popes Bulls are broke loose too, and 'tis suspected

They shall be baited in _England_.

_Land._ Very well Sir.

_Peter._ No, 'tis not so well neither.

_Land._ But I say to ye,

Who is it keeps your Master company?

_Peter._ I say to you, _Don John_.

_Land._ I say what woman?

_Peter._ I say so too.

_Land._ I say again, I will know.

_Peter._ I say 'tis fit ye should.

_Land._ And I tell thee

He has a woman here.

_Peter._ And I tell thee

'Tis then the better for him.

_Land._ You are no Bawd now?

_Peter._ Would I were able to be call'd unto it:

A worshipfull vocation for my elders;

For as I understand it is a place

Fitting my betters far.

_Land._ Was ever Gentlewoman

So frumpt off with a fool? well sawcy Sirrah,

I will know who it is, and for what purpose;

I pay the rent, and I will know how my house

Comes by these Inflammations: if this geer hold,

Best hang a sign-post up, to tell the Signiors,

Here ye may have lewdness at Liverie.

_Enter_ Frederick.

_Peter._ 'Twould be a great ease to your age.

_Fred._ How now?

Why what's the matter Land-lady?

_Land._ What's the matter?

Ye use me decently among ye Gentlemen.

_Fred._ Who has abus'd her, you Sir?

_Land._ 'Ods my witness

I will not be thus treated, that I will not.

_Peter._ I gave her no ill language.

_Land._ Thou lyest lewdly,

Thou tookst me up at every word I spoke,

As I had been a Mawkin, a flurt Gillian;

And thou thinkst, because thou canst write and read,

Our noses must be under thee.

_Fred._ Dare you Sirrah?

_Pet._ Let but the truth be known Sir, I beseech ye,

She raves of wenches, and I know not what Sir.

_Lan._ Go to, thou know'st too well, thou wicked varlet,

Thou instrument of evil.

_Peter._ As I live Sir,

She is ever thus till dinner.

_Fred._ Get ye in,

I'le answer you anon Sir.

_Peter._ By this hand

I'le break your Posset pan. [_Exit._

_Land._ Then by this hood

I'le lock the meat up.

_Fred._ Now your grief, what is't?

For I can ghesse--

_Land._ Ye may with shame enough,

If there were shame amongst ye; nothing thought on,

But how ye may abuse my house? not satisfi'd

With bringing home your Bastards to undoe me,

But you must drill your whores here too? my patience

(Because I bear, and bear, and carry all,

And as they say am willing to groan under)

Must be your make-sport now.

_Fred._ No more of these words,

Nor no more murmurings Lady: for you know

That I know something. I did suspect your anger,

But turn it presently and handsomely,

And bear your self discreetly to this woman,

For such an one there is indeed.

_Land._ 'Tis well son.

_Fre._ Leaving your devils Matins, and your melancholies,

Or we shall leave our lodgings.

_Land._ You have much need

To use these vagrant ways, and to much profit:

Ye had that might content

(At home within your selves too) right good Gentlemen,

Wholsome, and ye said handsom: But you gallants,

Beast that I was to believe ye--

_Fred._ Leave your suspicion:

For as I live there's no such thing.

_Land._ Mine honour;

And 'twere not for mine honour.

_Fred._ Come, your honour,

Your house, and you too, if you dare believe me,

Are well enough: sleek up your self, leave crying,

For I must have ye entertain this Lady

With all civility, she well deserves it,

Together with all secresie: I dare trust ye,

For I have found ye faithfull: when you know her,

You will find your own fault: no more words, but do it.

_Land._ You know you may command me.

_Enter Don_ John.

_John._ Worshipful Lady,

How does thy velvet Scabbard? by this hand

Thou lookst most amiably, now could I willingly,

And 'twere not for abusing thy _Geneva_ print there,

Venture my Body with thee.

_Land._ You'll leave this Roguery

When you come to my years.

_John._ By this light

Thou art not above fifteen yet, a meer Girl,

Thou hast not half thy teeth: come--

_Fred._ Prithee _John_

Let her alone, she has been vex'd already;

She'll grow stark mad, man.

_John._ I would see her mad,

An old mad woman--

_Fred._ Prithee be patient.

_John._ Is like a Millers Mare, troubled with tooth-ach.

She'll make the rarest faces.

_Fred._ Go, and do it,

And do not mind this fellow.

_Land._ Well, _Don John_,

There will be times again; when O good Mother,

What's good for a Carnosity in the Bladder?

O the green water, Mother.

_John._ Doting take ye;

Do ye remember that?

_Fred._ She has paid ye now, Sir.

_Land._ Clary, sweet mother, clary.

_Fred._ Are ye satisfied?

_Land._ I'll never whore again, never give petticoats

And Wastcoats at five pound apiece: good mother,

Quickly mother; now mock on Son.

_John._ A Devil grind your old Chaps. [_Exit Landlady._

_Fred._ By this hand, wench,

I'll give thee a new hood for this.

Has she met with your Lordship?

_John._ Touch-wood take her.

_Enter_ A[n]thony.

She's a rare ghostly Mother.

_Ant._ Below attends ye

The Gentlemans man, Sir, that was with you.

_John._ Well, Sir;

My time is come then; yet if my project hold,

You shall not stay behind; I'll rather trust

_Enter_ Constantia.

A Cat with sweet milk, _Frederick_; by her face,

I feel her fears are working.

_Const._ Is there no way,

I do beseech ye think yet, to divert

This certain danger?

_Fred._ 'Tis impossible;

Their Honours are engag'd.

_Const._ Then there must be murther,

Which, Gentlemen, I shall no sooner hear of,

Than make one in't: you may if you please, Sir,

Make all go less yet.

_John._ Lady, were't mine own Cause,

I could dispense; but loaden with my friends trust,

I must go on; though general massacres

As much I fear--

_Const._ Do ye hear, Sir; for Heavens pity

Let me request one love of you.

_Fred._ Yes, any thing.

_Const._ This Gentleman I find too resolute,

Too hot and fiery for the Cause; as ever

You did a vertuous deed, for honours sake

Go with him, and allay him; your fair temper

And noble disposition, like wish'd showrs,

May quench those eating fires, that would spoil all else.

I see in him destruction.

_Fred._ I will do it;

And 'tis a wise consideration,

To me a bounteous favour, hark ye, _John_;

I will go with ye.

_John._ No.

_Fred._ Indeed I will,

Ye go upon a hazard; no denial,

For as I live, I'll go.

_John._ Then make ye ready,

For I am straight o' horse-back.

_Fred._ My Sword on,

I am as ready as you; what my best labour,

With all the art I have can work upon 'em,

Be sure of, and expect fair end; the old Gentlewoman

Shall wait upon you; she is both grave and private,

And ye may trust her in all points.

_Const._ You are noble;

And so I kiss your hand.

_John._ That seal for me too,

And I hope happy issue, Lady.

_Const._ All Heavens Care upon ye, and my Prayers.

_John._ So,

Now my mind's at rest.

_Fred._ Away, 'tis late, John. [_Exeunt._

SCENE II.

_Enter_ Antonio, _a Surgeon, and 2 Gentlemen_.

_1 Gent._ Come, Sir, be hearty, all the worst is past.

_Ant._ Give me some Wine.

_Sur._ 'Tis death, Sir.

_Ant._ 'Tis a Horse, Sir.

To be drest to the tune of Ale only!

Nothing but sawces to my sores!

_2 Gent._ Fie, _Antonio_,

You must be govern'd.

_Ant._ H'as given me a damn'd Clyster,

Only of sand and snow water, Gentlemen,

Has almost scour'd my guts out.

_Sur._ I have giv'n you that, Sir,

Is fittest for your state.

_Ant._ And here he feeds me

With rotten ends of Rooks, and drown'd Chickens,

Stew'd Pericraniums, and Pia-maters;

And when I go to bed (by Heaven 'tis true Gentlemen)

He rolls me up in Lints, with Labels at 'em,

That I am just the man i'th' Almanack,

In Head and Face, is _Aries_ place.

_Sur._ Will't please ye

To let your friends see you open'd?

_Ant._ Will't please you, Sir,

To let me have a wench? I feel my Body

Open enough for that yet.

_Sur._ How, a Wench?

_Ant._ Why look ye, Gentlemen; thus I am us'd still,

I can get nothing that I want.

_1 Gent._ Leave these things,

And let him open ye.

_Ant._ D'ye hear, Surgeon?

Send for the Musick, let me have some pleasure

To entertain my friends, besides your Sallads,

Your green salves, and your searches, and some Wine too,

That I may only smell to it; or by this light

I'll dye upon thy hand, and spoil thy custome.

_1 Gent._ Let him have Musick.

_Enter Rowl. with Wine._

_Sur._ 'Tis in the house, and ready,

If he will ask no more but Wine-- [_Musick._

_2 Gent._ He shall not drink it.

_Sur._ Will these things please ye?

_Ant._ Yes, and let 'em sing

_John Dorrie_.

_2 Gent._ 'Tis too long.

_Ant._ I'll have _John Dorrie_,

For to that warlike tune I will be open'd:

Give me some drink, have ye stopt the leaks well, Surgeon,

All will run out else?

_Surg._ Fear not.

_Ant._ Sit down, Gentlemen:

And now advance your Plaisters. [_Song of_ John Dorrie.

Give 'em ten shillings, friends; how do ye find me?

What symptoms do you see now?

_Surg._ None, Sir, dangerous;

But if you will be rul'd--

_Ant._ What time?

_Surg._ I can cure you

In forty days, if you will not transgress me.

_Ant._ I have a Dog shall lick me whole in twenty;

In how long canst thou kill me?

_Surg._ Presently.

_Ant._ Do it, there's more delight in't.

_1 Gent._ You must have patience.

_Ant._ Man, I must have business; this foolish fellow

Hinders himself; I have a dozen Rascals

To hurt within these five days; good man-mender,

Stop me with some Parsley, like stuft Beef,

And let me walk abroad.

_Surg._ Ye shall walk shortly.

_Ant._ For I must find _Petrucchio_.

_2 Gent._ Time enough.

_1 Gent._ Come, lead him in, and let him sleep: within these three days

We'll beg ye leave to play.

_2 Gent._ And then how things fall,

We'll certainly inform ye.

_Ant._ But Surgeon, promise me

I shall drink Wine then too.

_Surg._ A little temper'd.

_Ant._ Nay, I'll no tempering, Surgeon.

_Surg._ Well, as't please ye,

So ye exceed not.

_Ant._ Farewell: and if ye find

The mad Slave that thus slash'd me, commend me to him,

And bid him keep his Skin close.

_1 Gent._ Take your rest, Sir. [_Exeunt._

SCENE III.

_Enter_ Constantia, _and Land-lady_.

_Const._ I have told ye all I can, and more than yet

Those Gentlemen know of me; ever trusting

Your Counsel and Concealment; for to me

You seem a worthy Woman; one of those

Are seldome found in our Sex, wise and vertuous,

Direct me I beseech ye.

_Land._ Ye say well, Lady,

And hold ye to that point, for in these businesses

A Womans Counsel that conceives the matter,

(Do ye mark me? that conceives the matter, Lady)

Is worth ten mens engagements: She knows something,

And out of that can work like Wax; when men

Are giddy-headed, either out of Wine,

Or a more Drunkenness, vain Ostentation,

Discovering all; there is no more keep in 'em

Than hold upon an Eeles tail; Nay, 'tis held fashion

To defame now all they can.

_Const._ I, but these Gentlemen--

_Land._ Do not you trust to that; these Gentlemen

Are as all Gentlemen of the same Barrel;

I, and the self same pickle too. Be it granted,

They have us'd ye with respect and fair behaviour,

Ere since ye came, do you know what must follow?

They are Spaniards, Lady, Gennets of high mettle,

Things that will thrash the Devil, or his Dam,

Let 'em appear but cloven.

_Const._ Now Heaven bless me.

_Land._ Mad Colts will court the wind; I know 'em, Lady,

To the least hair they have; and I tell you,

Old as I am, let but the pint pot bless 'em,

They'll offer to my years--

_Const._ How?

_Land._ Such rude gambols--

_Const._ To you?

_Land._ I, and so handle me, that oft I am forc'd

To fight of all four for my safety; there's the younger,

_Don John_, the arrantest _Jack_ in all this City;

The other, Time has blasted, yet he will stoop,

If not o'rflown, and freely on the quarry;

Has been a Dragon in his days. But _Tarmont_,

_Don Jenkin_ is the Devil himself, the dog-days,

The most incomprehensible Whore-master,

Twenty a night is nothing; Beggars, Broom-women,

And those so miserable, they look like famine,

Are all sweet Ladies in his drink.

_Const._ He's a handsome Gentleman;

Pity he should be master of such follies.

_Land._ He's ne'r without a noise of Sirynges

In's Pocket, those proclaim him; birding Pills,

Waters to cool his Conscience, in small Viols:

With thousand such sufficient emblems; the truth is,

Whose Chastity he chops upon he cares not,

He flies at all; Bastards upon my conscience,

He has now in making, multitudes; the last night

He brought home one; I pity her that bore it,

But we are all weak Vessels, some rich Woman

(For wise I dare not call her) was the mother,

For it was hung with Jewels; the bearing Cloath

No less than Crimson Velvet.

_Const._ How?

_Land._ 'Tis true, Lady.

_Const._ Was it a Boy too?

_Land._ A brave Boy; deliberation

And judgment shew'd in's getting, as I'll say for him,

He's as well paced for that sport--

_Const._ May I see it?

For there is a neighbour of mine, a Gentlewoman,

Has had a late mischance, which willingly

I would know further of; now if you please

To be so courteous to me.

_Land._ Ye shall see it:

But what do ye think of these men now ye know 'em,

And of the cause I told ye of? Be wise,

Ye may repent too late else; I but tell you

For your own good, and as you will find it, Lady.

_Const._ I am advis'd.

_Land._ No more words then; do that,

And instantly, I told ye of, be ready;

_Don John_, I'll fit you for your frumps.

_Const._ I shall be:

But shall I see this Child?

_Land._ Within this half hour,

Let's in, and there think better; she that's wise,

Leaps at occasion first; the rest pay for it. [_Exeunt._

SCENE IV.

_Enter_ Petrucchio, _Don_ John, _and_ Frederick.

_John._ Sir, he is worth your knowledg, and a Gentleman

If I that so much love him, may commend him,

Of free and vertuous parts; and one, if foul play

Should fall upon us, for which fear I brought him,

Will not flye back for phillips.

_Pet._ Ye much honour me,

And once more I pronounce ye both mine.

_Fred._ Stay, what Troop

Is that below i' th' Valley there?

_John._ Hawking I take it.

_Pet._ They are so; 'tis the Duke, 'tis even he, Gentlemen,

Sirrah, draw back the Horses till we call ye,

I know him by his Company.

_Fred._ I think too

He bends up this way.

_Pet._ So he does.

_John._ Stand you still

Within that Covert till I call: you, _Frederick_,

By no means be not seen, unless they offer

To bring on odds upon us; he comes forward,

Here will I wait him fairly: to your Cabins.

_Pet._ I need no more instruct ye?

_John._ Fear me not,

I'le give it him, and boldly. [_Ex._ Pet. _and_ Fred.

_Enter Duke and his faction._

_Duke._ Feed the Hawks up,

We'll flie no more to day, O my blest fortune!

Have I so fairly met the man?

_John._ Ye have, Sir,

And him you know by this.

_Duke._ Sir all the honour,

And love--

_John._ I do beseech your Grace stay there,

(For I know you too now) that love and honour

I come not to receive; nor can you give it,

Till ye appear fair to the world; I must beseech ye

Dismiss your train a little.

_Duke._ Walk aside,

And out of hearing I command ye: Now, Sir.

_John._ Last time we met, I was a friend.

_Duke._ And Nobly,

You did a friends office: let your business

Be what it may, you must be still--

_John._ Your pardon,

Never a friend to him, cannot be friend

To his own honour.

_Duke._ In what have I transgress'd it?

Ye make a bold breach at the first, Sir.

_John._ Bolder,

You made that breach that let in infamy,

And ruine, to surprise a noble stock.

_Duke._ Be plain, Sir.

_John._ I will, and short;

Ye have wrong'd a Gentleman,

Little behind your self, beyond all justice,

Beyond mediation of all friends.

_Duke._ The man, and manner of wrong?

_John._ _Petrucchio_,

The wrong, ye have Whor'd his Sister.

_Duke._ What's his will in't?

_John._ His will is to oppose you like a Gentleman,

And single, to decide all.

_Duke._ Now stay you, Sir,

And hear me with the like belief: this Gentleman,

His Sister that you nam'd, 'tis true I have long lov'd,

Nor was that love lascivious, as he makes it;

As true, I have enjoy'd her: no less truth,

I have a Child by her: but that she, or he,

Or any of that family are tainted,

Suffer disgrace, or ruin, by my pleasures,

I wear a Sword to satisfie the world no,

And him in this cause when he please; for know, Sir,

She is my Wife, contracted before Heaven,

(Witness I owe more tye to, than her Brother)

Nor will I flye from that name, which long since

Had had the Churches approbation,

But for his jealous danger.

_John._ Sir, your pardon,

And all that was my anger, now my service.

_Duk._ Fair Sir, I knew I should convert ye; had we

But that rough man here now too--

_John._ And ye shall, Sir,

Whoa, hoa, hoo.

_Duke._ I hope ye have laid no Ambush?

_Enter_ Petrucchio.

_John._ Only friends.

_Duke._ My noble Brother welcome:

Come put your anger off, we'll no fighting,

Unless you will maintain I am unworthy

To bear that name.

_Pet._ Do you speak this heartily?

_Duke._ Upon my soul, and truly; the first Priest

Shall put you out of these doubts.

_Pet._ Now I love ye;

And I beseech you pardon my suspicions,

You are now more than a Brother, a brave friend too.

_John._ The good man's over-joy'd.

_Enter_ Frederick.

_Fred._ How, how, how goes it?

_John._ Why, the man has his Mare again, and all's well, _Frederick_,

The Duke professes freely he's her Husband.

_Fred._ 'Tis a good hearing.

_John._ Yes, for modest Gentlemen.

I must present ye: may it please your Grace,

To number this brave Gentleman, my friend,

And noble kinsman, amongst those your servants.

_Duke._ O my brave friend! you shower your bounties on me

Amongst my best thoughts, Signior, in which number

You being worthily dispos'd already,

May place your friend to honour me.

_Fred._ My love, Sir,

And where your Grace dares trust me, all my service.

_Pet._ Why! this is wondrous happy: But now Brother,

Now comes the bitter to our sweet: _Constantia_.

_Duke._ Why, what of her?

_Pet._ Nor what, nor where, do I know!

Wing'd with her fears last night, beyond my knowledge,

She quit my house, but whither--

_Fred._ Let not that--

_Duke._ No more good Sir, I have heard too much.

_Pet._ Nay sink not,

She cannot be so lost.

_John._ Nor shall not, Gentlemen;

Be free again, the Lady's found; that smile, Sir,

Shews ye distrust your Servant.

_Duke._ I do beseech ye.

_John._ Ye shall believe me: by my soul she is safe.

_Duke._ Heaven knows, I would believe, Sir.

_Fred._ Ye may safely.

_John._ And under noble usage: this fair Gentleman

Met her in all her doubts last night, and to his Guard,

(Her fears being strong upon her) she gave her person,

Who waited on her to our lodging; where all respect,

Civil and honest service now attend her.

_Pet._ Ye may believe now.

_Duke._ Yes, I do, and strongly:

Well my good friends, or rather my good Angels,

For ye have both preserv'd me; when these vertues

Dye in your friends remembrance--

_John._ Good your Grace,

Lose no more time in complement, 'tis too precious,

I know it by my self there can be no Hell

To his that hangs upon his hopes; especially

In way of lustly pleasures.

_Pet._ He has hit it.

_Fred._ To horse again then, for this night I'le crown

With all the joyes ye wish for.

_Pet._ Happy Gentlemen. [_Exeunt._

_Enter_ Francisco.

_Fran._ This is the maddest mischief: never fool

Was so fob'd off, as I am; made ridiculous,

And to my self mine own Ass: trust a Woman?

I'le trust the Devil first; for he dare be

Better than's word sometime: what faith have I broke?

In what observance fail'd? Let me consider,

_Enter Don_ John, _and_ Frederick.

For this is monstrous usage.

_Fred._ Let them talk,

We'll ride on fair and softly.

_Fran._ Well, _Constantia_.

_Fred._ _Constantia_, what's this fellow? stay by all means.

_Fran._ Ye have spun your self a fair thread now.

_Fred._ Stand still, _John_.

_Fran._ What cause had you to fly? what fear possest ye?

Were you not safely lodg'd from all suspicion?

Us'd with all gentle means? did any know

How ye came thither, or what your sin was.

_Fred._ _John_,

I smell some juggling, _John_.

_John._ Yes, _Frederick_, I fear it will be found so.

_Fran._ So strangely,

Without the counsel of your friends; so desperately

To put all dangers on ye?

_Fred._ 'Tis she.

_Fran._ So deceitfully,

After a strangers lure!

_John._ Did ye mark that, _Frederick_?

_Fran._ To make ye appear more monster; and the Law

More cruel to reward ye? to leave all,

All that should be your safegard, to seek evils?

Was this your wisdom? this your promise? well,

He that incited ye--

_Fred._ Mark that too.

_John._ Yes Sir.

_Fran._ 'Had better have plough'd farther off; now Lady,

What will your last friend, he that should preserve ye,

And hold your credit up, the brave _Antonio_,

Think of this slip? he'll to _Petrucchio_,

And call for open justice.

_John._ 'Tis she, _Frederick_.

_Fred._ But what that he is, _John_?

_Fra._ I do not doubt yet

To bolt ye out, for I know certainly

Ye are about the Town still: ha, no more words. [_Exit._

_Fred._ Well.

_John._ Very well.

_Fred._ Discreetly.

_John._ Finely carried.

_Fred._ You have no more of these tricks?

_John._ Ten to one, Sir,

I shall meet with 'em if ye have.

_Fred._ Is this honest?

_John._ Was it in you a friends part to deal double?

I am no Ass _Don Frederick_.

_Fred._ And _Don John_,

It shall appear I am no fool;

Disgrace me to make your self a lecher?

'Tis boyish, 'tis base.

_John._ 'Tis false, and most unmanly to upbraid me,

Nor will I be your bolster, Sir.

_Fre._ Thou wanton boy, thou hadst better have been Eunuch,

Thou common womans courtesie, than thus

Lascivious, basely to have bent mine honour.

A friend? I'[l]e make a horse my friend first.

_John._ Holla, holla,

Ye kick too fast, Sir: what strange brains have you got,

That dare crow out thus bravely? I better been an Eunuch?

I privy to this dog trick? clear your self,

For I know where the wind sits, and most nobly,

Or as I have a life--

_Fred._ No more: they're horses. [_A noise within like horses._

Nor shew no discontent: to morrow comes;

Let's quietly away: if she be at home,

Our jealousies are put off.

_John._ The fellow,

_Enter Duke_, Petrucchio.

We have lost him in our spleens, like fools.

_Duke._ Come, Gentlemen,

Now set on roundly: suppose ye have all Mistresses,

And mend your pace according.

_Petr._ Then have at ye. [_Exeunt._

_Actus Quartus. Scena Prima._

_Enter Duke_, Petrucchio, Frederick, _and_ John.

_Petr._ Now to _Bologna_, my most honoured Brother,

I dare pronounce ye a hearty, and safe welcome,

Our loves shall now way-lay ye; welcome, Gentlemen.

_John._ The same to you brave Sir; _Don Frederick_,

Will ye step in and give the Lady notice

Who comes to honour her?

_Petr._ Bid her be sudden,

We come to see no curious wench: a night-gown

Will serve the turn: here's one that knows her nearer.

_Fred._ I'le tell her what ye say, Sir. [_Exit Fred._

_Duke._ My dear brother,

Ye are a merry Gentleman.

_Petr._ Now will the sport be,

To observe her alterations; how like a wildfire

She'll leap into your bosom; then seeing me,

Her conscience, and her fears creeping upon her,

Dead as a fowl at souse, she'll sink.

_Duke._ Fair Brother,

I must intreat you--

_Petr._ I conceive your mind, Sir,

I will not chide her: yet ten Duckets, Duke,

She falls upon her knees, ten more she dare not--

_Duke._ I must not have her frighted.

_Petr._ Well you shall not:

_Enter_ Frederick, _and_ Peter.

But like a Summers evening against heat,

Mark how I'le guild her cheeks!

_John._ How now?

_Fred._ Ye may, Sir:

Not to abuse your patience, noble friends,

Nor hold ye off with tedious circumstance,

For you must know--

_Petr._ What?

_Duke._ Where is she?

_Fred._ Gone, Sir.

_Duke._ How?

_Petr._ What did you say, Sir?

_Fred._ Gone, by Heaven removed,

The woman of the house too.

_John._ Well _Don Frederick_.

_Fred._ _Don John_, it is not well, but--

_Pet._ Gone?

_Fred._ This fellow

Can testifie I lye not.

_Peter._ Some four hours after

My Master was departed, with this Gentleman,

My fellow and my self being sent of business,

(As we must think) of purpose--

_Petr._ Hang these circumstances,

They appear like Owls, to ill ends.

_John._ Now could I eat

The Devil in his own broth, I am so tortur'd.

Gone?

_Petr._ Gone?

_Fred._ Directly gone, fled, shifted: what would you have me say?

_Duke._ Well, Gentlemen,

Wrong not my good opinion.

_Fred._ For your Dukedom

I will not be a Knave, Sir.

_John._ He that is,

A rot run in his bloud.

_Petr._ But hark ye Gentlemen,

Are ye sure ye had her here, did ye not dream this?

_John._ Have you your nose, Sir?

_Petr._ Yes, Sir.

_John._ Then we had her.

_Petr._ Since you are so short, believe your having her

Shall suffer more construction.

_John._ Let it suffer,

But if I be not clear of all dishonour,

Or practice that may taint my reputation,

And ignorant of where this Woman is,

Make me your Cities monster.

_Duke._ I believe ye.

_John._ I could lye with a Witch now, to be reveng'd,

Upon that Rascal did this.

_Fred._ Only thus much

I would desire your Grace, for my mind gives me

Before night yet she is yours: stop all opinion,

And let no anger out, till full cause call it,

Then every mans own work's to justifie him,

And this day let us give to search: my man here

Tells me, by chance he saw out of a window

(Which place he has taken notice of) such a face

As our old Landladies, he believes the same too,

And by her hood assures it: Let's first thither,

For she being found, all's ended.

_Duke._ Come, for Heavens sake,

And Fortune, and thou be'st not ever turning,

If there be one firm step in all thy reelings,

Now settle it, and save my hopes: away friends. [_Exeunt._

SCENE II.

_Enter_ Antonio _and his Servant_.

_Ant._ With all my Jewels?

_Ser._ All, Sir.

_Ant._ And that mony

I left i'th' trunk?

_Ser._ The Trunk broke, and that gone too.

_Ant._ _Francisco_ of the plot?

_Ser._ Gone with the wench too.

_Ant._ The mighty pox go with 'em: belike they thought

I was no man of this world, and those trifles

Would but disturb my conscience.

_Ser._ Sure they thought, Sir,

You would not live to persecute 'em.

_Ant._ Whore and Fidler,

Why, what a consort have they made! Hen and Bacon!

Well my sweet Mistris, well good Madam mar-tail?

You that have hung about my neck, and lick't me,

I'le try how handsomely your Ladyship

Can hang upon a Gallows, there's your Master-piece;

But hark ye Sirrah, no imagination

Of where they should be?

_Ser._ None, Sir, yet we have search'd

All places we suspected; I believe, Sir,

They have taken towards the Ports.

_Ant._ Get me a conjurer,

One that can raise a water Devil, I'le port 'em;

Play at duck and drake with my mony; take heed Fidler;

I'le dance ye by this hand, your Fidle-stick

I'le grease of a new fashion, for presuming

To meddle with my degamboys: get me a Conjurer,

Enquire me out a man that lets out Devils:

None but my C. Cliffe serve your turn?

_Ser._ I know not--

_Ant._ In every street, _Tom_ fool, any blear-ey'd people

With red heads, and flat noses can perform it;

Thou shalt know 'em by their half Gowns and no Breeches:

Mount my Mare Fidler? ha boy! up at first dash?

Sit sure, I'le clap a nettle, and a smart one,

Shall make your Filly firk: I will fine Fidler,

I'le put you to your plunge, Boy: Sirrah meet me

Some two hours hence at home; in the mean time

Find out a conjurer and know his price,

How he will let his Devils by the day out,

I'le have 'em, and they be above ground. [_Ex._ Ant.

_Ser._ Now bless me,

What a mad man is this! I must do something

To please his humour: such a man I'le ask for,

And tell him where he is: but to come near him,

Or have any thing to do with his don Devils,

I thank my fear, I dare not, nor I will not. [_Exit._

SCENE III.

_Enter Duke_, Petrucchio, Frederick, John, Peter,

_and Servant with Bottle_.

_Fred._ Whither wilt thou lead us?

[_Pet._] 'Tis hard by, Sir.

And ten to one this wine goes thither.

_Duke._ Forward.

_Petr._ Are they grown so merry?

_Duke._ 'Tis [most] likely,

She has heard of this good fortune, and determines

To wash her sorrows off.

[_Pet._] 'Tis so; that house, Sir,

Is it: out of that window certainly

I saw my old Mistresses face.

_Petr._ They are merry indeed, [_Musick._

Hark I hear Musick too.

_Duke._ Excellent Musick.

_John._ Would I were ev'n among 'em, and alone now;

A pallat for the purpose in a corner,

And good rich Wine within me; what gay sport

Could I make in an hour now!

SONG.

_Welcome sweet liberty, and care farewel,_

_I am mine own,_

_She is twice damn'd, that lives in Hell,_

_When Heaven is shown._

_Budding beauty, blooming years_

_Were made for pleasure, farewel fears,_

_For now I am my self, mine own command,_

_My fortune alwayes in my hand._

_Fred._ Hark a voice too;

Let's not stir yet by any means.

_John._ Was this her own voice?

_Duke._ Yes, sure.

_Fred._ 'Tis a rare one.

_Enter Bawd (above.)_

_Du._ The Song confirms her here too: for if ye mark it,

It spake of liberty, and free enjoying

The happy end of pleasure.

[_Pet._] Look ye there, Sir,

Do ye know that head?

_Fred._ 'Tis my good Landlady,

I find fear has done all this.

_John._ She I swear,

And now do I know by the hanging of her Hood,

She is parcel drunk: shall we go in?

_Duke._ Not yet, Sir.

_Petr._ No, let 'em take their pleasure.

_Duke._ When it is highest, [_Musick._

We'll step in, and amaze 'em: peace, more Musick.

_John._ This Musick murders me: what bloud have I now!

_Fred._ I should know that face. [_Enter_ Fran, _and Exit_.

_John._ By this light 'tis he, _Frederick_,

That bred our first suspicions, the same fellow.

_Fred._ He that we overtook, and overheard too,

Discoursing of _Constantia_.

_John._ Still the same;

Now he slips in.

_Duke._ What's that?

_Fred._ She must be here Sir:

This is the very fellow, I told your Grace

_Enter_ Francisco.

We found upon the way; and what his talk was.

_Petr._ Why, sure I know this fellow; yes, 'tis he,

_Francisco_, _Antonio's_ boy, a rare Musician,

He taught my Sister on the Lute, and is ever

(She loves his voice so well) about her: certain,

Without all doubt she is here: it must be so.

_John._ Here? that's no question: what should our hen

Do here without her? if she be not here (o'th' game else

I am so confident) let your grace believe,

We two are arrant Rascals, and have abus'd ye.

_Fred._ I say so too.

_John._ Why there's the hood again now,

The guard that guides us; I know the fabrick of it,

And know the old tree of that saddle yet, 'twas made of,

A hunting hood, observe it.

_Duke._ Who shall enter?

_Petr._ I'le make one.

_John._ I, another.

_Duke._ But so carry it,

That all her joyes flow not together.

_John._ If we told her,

Your grace would none of her?

_Duke._ By no means Signior,

'Twould turn her wild, stark frantick.

_John._ Or assur'd her--

_Duke._ Nothing of that stern nature: this ye may Sir,

That the conditions of our fear yet stand

On nice and dangerous knittings: or that a little

I seem to doubt the child.

_John._ Would I could draw her

To hate your grace with these things.

_Petr._ Come let's enter. [_Ex._ Petr. _and_ John.

And now he sees me not, I'le search her soundly.

_Duke._ Now luck of all sides. [_Musick._

_Fred._ Doubt it not: more Musick:

Sure she has heard some comfort.

_Duke._ Yes, stand still Sir.

_Fred._ This is the maddest song.

_Duke._ Applyed for certain

To some strange melancholy she is loaden with.

_Fred._ Now all the sport begins--hark!

_Duke._ They are amongst 'em,

The fears now, and the shakings! [_Trampling above._

_Fred._ Our old Lady

(Hark how they run) is even now at this instant

Ready to lose her head-piece by Don John,

Or creeping through a Cat hole. [Petr. _and_ John _within_.

_Petr._ Bring 'em down,

And you Sir, follow me.

_Duke._ He's angry with 'em,

I must not suffer this.

_John, within._ Bowl down the Bawd there

Old _Erra mater_: you Lady leachery,

For the good will I bear to th' game, most tenderly

Shall be lead out, and lash'd.

_Enter_ Petrucchio, John, _Whore_, _and Bawd_,

_with_ Francisco.

_Duke._ Is this _Constantia_?

Why Gentlemen? what do you mean? is this she?

_Whore._ I am _Constantia_ Sir.

_Duke._ A whore ye are Sir.

_Whore._ 'Tis very true: I am a whore indeed Sir.

_Petr._ She will not lye yet, though she steal.

_Whore._ A plain whore,

If you please to imploy me.

_Duke._ And an impudent--

_Whore._ Plain dealing now is impudence.

One, if you will Sir, can shew ye as much sport

In one half hour, and with as much variety,

As a far wiser woman can in half a year:

For there my way lies.

_Duke._ Is she not drunk too?

_Whore._ A little guilded o're Sir,

Old sack, old sack boys.

_Petr._ This is _saliant_.

_John._ A brave bold quean.

_Duke._ Is this your certainty?

Do ye know the man ye wrong thus, Gentlemen?

Is this the woman meant?

_Fred._ No.

_Duke._ That your Land-lady?

_John._ I know not what to say.

_Duke._ Am I a person

To be your sport, Gentlemen?

_John._ I do believe now certain

I am a knave; but how, or when--

_Duke._ What are you?

_Petr._ Bawd to this piece of pye meat.

_Bawd._ A poor Gentlewoman

That lyes in Town, about Law business,

And't like your worships.

_Petr._ You shall have Law, believe it.

_Bawd._ I'le shew your Mastership my case.

_Petr._ By no means,

I had rather see a Custard.

_Bawd._ My dead Husband

Left it even thus Sir.

_John._ Bless mine eyes from blasting,

I was never so frighted with a case.

_Bawd._ And so Sir--

_Petr._ Enough, put up good velvet head.

_Duke._ What are you two now,

By your own free confessions?

_Fred._ What you shall think us,

Though to my self I am certain, and my life

Shall make that good and perfect, or fall with it.

_John._ We are sure of nothing, _Fred_, that's the truth on't:

I do not think my name's _Don John_, nor dare not

Believe any thing that concerns me, but my debts,

Nor those in way of payment: things are so carried,

What to entreat your grace, or how to tell ye

We are, or we are not, is past my cunning,

But I would fain imagine we are honest,

And o' my conscience, I should fight in't--

_Duke._ Thus then,

For we may be all abus'd.

_Petr._ 'Tis possible,

For how should this concern them?

_Duke._ Here let's part--

Until to morrow this time: we to our way,

To make this doubt out, and you to your way;

Pawning our honours then to meet again,

When if she be not found.

_Fred._ We stand engaged

To answer any worthy way we are call'd to.

_Duke._ We ask no more.

_Whore._ Ye have done with us then?

_Petr._ No, Dame.

_Duke._ But is her name _Constantia_?

_Petr._ Yes a moveable

Belonging to a friend of mine: come out Fidler,

What say you to this Lady? be not fearfull.

_Fra._ Saving the reverence of my Masters pleasure,

I say she is a whore, and that she has robb'd him,

Hoping his hurts would kill him.

_Whore._ Who provok't me?

Nay Sirrah squeak, I'le see your treble strings

Ty'd up too; if I hang, I'le spoil your piping,

Your sweet face shall not save ye.

_Petr._ Thou damn'd impudence,

And thou dry'd Devil; where's the officer?

[_Pet._] He's here Sir.

_Enter Officer._

_Petr._ Lodge these safe, till I send for 'em;

Let none come to 'em, nor no noise be heard

Of where they are, or why: away.

_John._ By this hand

A handsom whore: Now will I be arrested,

And brought home to this officers: a stout whore,

I love such stirring ware: pox o' this business,

A man must hunt out morsels for another,

And starve himself: a quick-ey'd whore, that's wild-fire,

And makes the bloud dance through the veins like billows.

I will reprieve this whore.

_Duke._ Well, good luck with ye.

_Fred._ As much attend your grace.

_Petr._ To morrow certain--

_John._ If we out-live this night Sir.

_Fred._ Come _Don John_,

We have something now to do.

_John._ I am sure I would have.

_Fred._ If she be not found, we must fight.

_John._ I am glad on't,

I have not fought a great while.

_Fred._ If we dye--

_Jo._ There's so much mony sav'd in lecherie. [_Exeunt._

_Actus Quintus. Scena Prima._

_Enter_ Duke, Petrucchio, _below, and_ Vecchio, _above_.

_Duke._ It should be hereabouts.

_Petr._ Your grace is right,

This is the house, I know it.

_Vec._ Grace?

_Duke._ 'Tis further

By the description we received.

_Petr._ Good my Lord the Duke,

Believe me, for I know it certainly,

This is the very house.

_Vec._ My Lord the Duke?

_Duke._ Pray Heaven this man prove right now.

_Petr._ Believe it, he's a most sufficient Scholar,

And can do rare tricks this way; for a figure,

Or raising an appearance, whole Christendom

Has not a better; I have heard strange wonders of him.

_Duke._ But can he shew us where she is?

_Petr._ Most certain,

And for what cause too she departed.

_Duke._ Knock then,

For I am great with expectation,

Till this man satisfie me: I fear the _Spaniards_,

Yet they appear brave fellows: can he tell us?

_Petr._ With a wet finger, whether they be false.

_Duke._ Away then.

_Petr._ Who's within here?

_Enter_ Vecchio.

_Vec._ Your grace may enter.

_Duke._ How can he know me?

_Petr._ He knows all.

_Vec._ And you Sir. [_Exeunt._

SCENE II.

_Enter Don_ John, _and_ Frederick.

_John._ What do you call his name?

_Fred._ Why, _Peter Vecchio_.

_John._ They say he can raise Devils,

Can he make 'em

Tell truth too, when he has rais'd 'em? for believe it,

These Devils are the lyingst Rascals.

_Fred._ He can compel 'em.

_John._ With what? can he

Tye squibs in their tails, and fire the truth out?

Or make 'em eat a bawling Puritan,

Whose sanctified zeal shall rumble like an Earth-quake?

_Fred._ With Spells man.

_John._ I with spoons as soon, dost thou think

The Devil such an Asse as people make him?

Such a poor coxcomb? such a penny foot-post?

Compel'd with cross and pile to run of errands?

With _Asteroth_, and _Behemoth_, and _Belfagor_?

Why should he shake at sounds, that lives in a smiths forge?

Or if he do--

_Fred._ Without all doubt he do's _John_.

_John._ Why should not Bilbo raise him, or a pair of bullyons,

They go as big as any? or an unshod Car,

When he goes tumble, tumble o're the stones,

Like _Anacreons_ drunken verses, [make us tremble?]

These make as fell a noise; me thinks the colick

Well handled, and fed with small beer--

_Fred._ 'Tis the vertue--

_John._ The vertue? nay, and goodness fetch him up once,

H'as lost a friend of me; the wise old Gentleman

Knows when, and how; I'le lay this hand to two pence,

Let all the Conjurers in Christendom,

With all their spells, and vertues call upon him,

And I but think upon a wench, and follow it,

He shall be sooner mine than theirs; where's vertue?

_Fred._ Thou art the most sufficient, (I'le say for thee)

Not to believe a thing--

_John._ O Sir, slow credit

Is the best child of knowl[e]dge; I'le go with ye,

And if he can do any thing, I'le think

As you would have me.

_Fred._ Let's enquire along,

For certain we are not far off.

_John._ Nor much nearer. [_Exeunt._

SCENE III.

_Enter_ Duke, Petrucchio, _and_ Vecchio.

_Vec._ You lost her yester-night.

_Pet._ How think you Sir?

_Duke._ Is your name _Vecchio_?

_Vec._ Yes Sir.

_Du._ And you can shew me

These things you promise.

_Vec._ Your graces word bound to me,

No hand of Law shall seize me.

_Duke._ As I live Sir--

_Petr._ And as I live, that can do something too Sir.

_Vec._ I take your promises: stay here a little,

Till I prepare some Ceremonies, and I'le satisfie ye.

The Ladies name's _Constantia_?

_Petr._ Yes.

_Vec._ I come straight. [_Exit_ Vec.

_Duke._ Sure he's a learned man.

_Petr._ The most now living;

Did your grace mark when we told all these circumstances,

How ever and anon he bolted from us

To use his studies help?

_Duke._ Now I think rather

To talk with some familiar.

_Petr._ Not unlikely,

For sure he has 'em subject.

_Duke._ How could he else

Tell when she went, and who went with her?

_Petr._ True.

_Du._ Or hit upon mine honour: or assure me

The Lady lov'd me dearly?

_Enter_ Vecchio, _in his habiliments_.

_Petr._ 'Twas so.

_Vec._ Now,

I do beseech your grace sit down, and you Sir;

Nay pray sit close like Brothers.

_Petr._ A rare fellow.

_Vec._ And what ye see, stir not at, nor use a word,

Until I ask ye; for what shall appear

Is but weak apparition and thin air,

Not to be held, nor spoken to. [_Knocking within._

[John, Frederick, _and a Servant within_.

_Duke._ We are counsell'd--

_Vec._ What noise is that without there?

_Fred._ _within._ We must speak with him.

_Serv._ _within._ He's busie, Gentlemen.

_John within._ That's all one friend,

We must and will speak with him.

_Duke._ Let 'em in, Sir,

We know their tongues and business, 'tis our own,

And in this very cause that we now come for,

They also come to be instructed.

_Vec._ Let 'em in then:

Sit down, I know your meaning.

_Enter_ Frederick, John, _and Servant_.

_Fred._ The Duke before us?

Now we shall sure know something.

_Vec._ Not a question,

But make your Eyes your Tongues--

_John._ This is a strange Jugler,

Neither indent before-hand for his payment,

Nor know the Breadth of the business; sure his Devil

Comes out of _Lapland_, where they sell men Winds

For dead drink, and old Doublets.

_Fred._ Peace, he conjures.

_John._ Let him, he cannot raise my Devil.

_Fred._ Prithee Peace.

_Vec._ _Appear, appear,_

_And you soft Winds so clear,_

_That dance upon the leaves, and make them sing_

_Gentle Love-lays to the Spring,_

_Gilding all the Vales below,_

_With your Verdure as ye blow,_

_Raise these forms from under ground_

_With a soft and happy sound._ [Soft Musick.

_John._ This is an honest Conjurer, and a pretty Poet;

I like his words well, there's no bumbast in 'em,

But do you think now he can cudgel up the Devil

With this short Staff of Verses?

_Fred._ Peace, the Spirits-- [_2 shapes of women passing by._

_John._ Nay, and they be no worse--

_Vec._ Do ye know these faces?

_Duke._ No.

_Vec._ Sit still upon your lives then, and mark what follows;

Away, away.

_John._ These Devils do not paint sure?

Have they no sweeter shapes in Hell?

_Fred._ Hark now, _John_. [Constantia _passes by_.

_John._ I, marry, this moves something like, this Devil

Carries some metal in her gate.

_Vec._ I find ye,

You would see her face unvail'd?

_Duke._ Yes.

_Vec._ Be uncovered.

_Duke._ O Heaven!

_Vec._ Peace.

_Pet._ See how she blushes.

_John._ _Frederick_,

This Devil for my mony; this is she, Boy,

Why dost thou shake? I burn.

_Vec._ Sit still, and silent.

_Duke._ She looks back at me, now she smiles, Sir.

_Vec._ Silence.

_Duke._ I must rise, or I burst. [_Exit_ Constantia.

_Vec._ Ye see what follows--

_Duke._ O gentle Sir, this shape agen.

_Vec._ I cannot.

'Tis all disso[l]v'd again; this was the Figure?

_Duke._ The very same, Sir.

No hope once more to see it?

_Vec._ You might have kept it longer, had ye spar'd it,

Now 'tis impossible.

_Du._ No means to find it?

_Vec._ Yes, that there is, sit still a while, there's Wine

To thaw the wonder from your hearts; drink well, Sir.

[_Exit_ Vecchio.

_John._ This Conjurer is a right good fellow too,

A Lad of mettle; two such Devils more

Would make me a Conjurer; what wine is it?

_Fred._ Hollock.

_John._ The Devil's in it then; look how it dances.

Well, if I be--

_Pet._ We are all before ye,

That's your best comfort, Sir.

_John._ By th' Mass, brave Wine;

Nay, and the Devils live in this Hell, I dare venture

Within these two months yet to be delivered

Of a large Legion of 'em.

_Enter_ Vecchio.

_Du._ Here he comes,

Silence of all sides, Gentlemen.

_Vec._ Good your Grace,

Observe a stricter temper, and you too, Gallants,

You'll be deluded all else. This merry Devil

That next appears, for such a one you'll find it,

Must be call'd up by a strange incantation,

A Song, and I must sing it: 'pray bear with me,

And pardon my rude Pipe; for yet, ere parting

Twenty to one I please ye.

_Du._ We are arm'd, Sir.

_Pet._ Nor shall you see us more transgress.

_Fred._ What think'st thou

Now, _John_?

_John._ Why, now do I think, _Frederick_,

(And if I think amiss Heaven pardon me)

This honest Conjurer, with some four or five

Of his good fellow Devils, and my self,

Shall be yet drunk ere midnight.

SONG.

_Come away, thou Lady gay,_

_Hoist; how she stumbles!_

_Hark how she mumbles._

_Dame_ Gillian. _Answer. I come, I come._

_By old Claret I enlarge thee,_

_By Canary thus I charge thee,_

_By_ Britain, _Mathewglin, and Peeter,_

_Appear and answer me in meeter._

_Why when?_

_Why_ Gill?

_Why when?_

_Answer. You'll tarry till I am ready._

_Once again I conjure thee,_

_By the Pose in thy Nose,_

_And the Gout in thy Toes;_

_By thine old dryed Skin,_

_And the Mummie within;_

_By thy little, little Ruff,_

_And thy Hood that's made of Stuff;_

_By thy Bottle at thy Breech,_

_And thine old salt Itch;_

_By the Stakes, and the Stones,_

_That have worn out thy Bones._

_Appear._

_Appear._

_Appear._

_Answer. Oh I am here._

_Fred._ Peace, he conjures.

_John._ Why, this is the Song, _Frederick_; twenty pound now,

To see but our _Don Gillian_.

_Enter Land-lady and the Child._

_Fred._ Peace, it appears.

_John._ I cannot peace; Devils in French hoods, _Frederick_?

Satans old Syringes?

_Duke._ What's this?

_Vec._ Peace.

_John._ She, Boy.

_Fred._ What dost thou mean?

_John._ She, Boy, I say.

_Fred._ Ha?

_John._ She Boy,

The very Child too, _Frederick_.

_Fred._ She laughs on us

Aloud, _John_, has the Devil these affections?

I do believe 'tis she, indeed.

_Vec._ Stand still.

_John._ I will not;

Who calls _Jeronimo_ from his naked Bed?

Sweet Lady, was it you? if thou beest the Devil,

First, having crost my self, to keep out wildfire,

Then said some special Prayers to defend me

Against thy most unhallowed Hood, have at thee.

_Land._ Hold, Sir, I am no Devil.

_John._ That's all one.

_Land._ I am your very Landlady.

_John._ I defie thee;

Thus as St. _Dunstan_ blew the Devil's Nose

With a pair of tongs, even so, Right Worshipful--

_Land._ Sweet Son, I am old _Gillian_.

_Duke._ This is no Spirit.

_John._ Art thou old _Gillian_, flesh and bone?

_Land._ I am, Son.

_Vec._ Sit still, Sir, now I'll shew you all. [_Ex._ Vec.

_John._ Where's thy Bottle?

_Land._ Here, I beseech ye, Son--

_John._ For I know the Devil

Cannot assume that shape.

_Fred._ 'Tis she, _John_, certain--

_John._ A hogs pox o' your mouldy chaps, what makes you

Tumbling and juggling here?

_Land._ I am quit now, Seignior,

For all the pranks you plaid, and railings at me,

For to tell true, out of a trick I put

Upon your high behaviours, which was a lie,

But then it serv'd my turn, I drew the Lady

Unto my Kinsman's here, only to torture

Your _Don_-ships for a day or two; and secure her

Out of all thoughts of danger; here she comes now.

_Enter_ Vecchio, _and_ Constantia.

_Duke._ May I yet speak?

_Vec._ Yes, and embrace her too,

For one that loves you dearer--

_Duke._ O my Sweetest.

_Pet._ Blush not, I will not chide ye.

_Const._ To add more

Unto the joy I know, I bring ye, see Sir,

The happy fruit of all our Vows!

_Duke._ Heavens Blessing

Be round about thee ever.

_John._ Pray bless me to[o],

For if your Grace be well instructed this way,

You'll find the keeping half the getting.

_Duke._ How, Sir?

_John._ I'll tell you that anon.

_Const._ 'Tis true, this Gentleman

Has done a charity worthy your favour,

And let him have it, dear Sir.

_Duke._ My best Lady

He has, and ever shall have: so must you, Sir,

To whom I am equal bound as to my being.

_Fred._ Your Graces humble servant--

_Du._ Why kneel you, Sir?

_Vec._ For pardon for my boldness: yet 'twas harmless,

And all the art I have, Sir; those your Grace saw,

Which you thought spirits, were my Neighbours Children

Whom I instruct in Grammar here, and Musick;

Their shapes, the Peoples fond opinions,

Believing I can conjure, and oft repairing

To know of things stoln from 'em, I keep about me,

And always have in readiness, by conjecture

Out of their own confessions, I oft tell 'em

Things that by chance have fallen out so; which way

(Having the persons here, I knew you sought for)

I wrought upon your Grace; my end is mirth,

And pleasing, if I can, all parties.

_Duke._ I believe it,

For you have pleas'd me truly: so well pleas'd me,

That when I shall forget it--

_Pet._ Here's old _Antonio_,

I spy'd him at a window, coming mainly

I know about his Whore, the man you light on,

As you discovered unto me; good your Grace,

Let's stand by all, 'twill be a mirth above all,

To observe his pelting fury.

_Vec._ About a wench, Sir?

_Pet._ A young whore that has rob'd him.

_Vec._ But do you know, Sir,

Where she is?

_Pet._ Yes, and will make that perfect--

_Vec._ I am instructed well then.

_John._ If he come

To have a Devil shew'd him, by all means

Let me be he, I can roar rarely.

_Pet._ Be so,

But take heed to his anger.

_Vec._ Slip in quickly,

There you shall find suits of all sorts: when I call

Be ready and come forward. [_Exeunt all but_ Vecchio.

Who's there comes in?

_Enter_ Antonio.

_Ant._ Are you the Conjurer?

_Vec._ Sir, I can do a little

That way, if you please to employ me.

_Ant._ Presently, shew me a Devil that can tell--

_Vec._ Where your wench is.

_Ant._ You are i'th' right; as also where the Fidler

That was consenting to her.

_Vec._ Sit ye there, Sir,

Ye shall know presently: can ye pray heartily?

_Ant._ Why, is your Devil so furious?

_Vec._ I must shew ye

A form may chance affright ye.

_Ant._ He must fart fire then:

Take you no care for me.

_Vec._ Ascend, _Asterth_,

_Enter Don_ John _like a Spirit_.

Why, when, appear I say--Now question him.

_Ant._ Where is my whore, _Don_ Devil?

_John._ Gone to _China_,

To be the great _Chams_ Mistress.

_Ant._ That's a lye, Devil,

Where are my jewels?

_John._ Pawn'd for Petticoats.

_Ant._ That may be: where's the Fidler?

_John._ Condemn'd to th' Gallows

For robbing of a Mill.

_Ant._ The lyingst Devil

That e'r I dealt withal, and the unlikeliest!

What was that Rascal hurt me?

_John._ I.

_Ant._ How?

_John._ I.

_Ant._ Who was he?

_John._ I.

_Ant._ Do you hear conjurer,

Dare you venture your Devil?

_Vec._ Yes.

_Ant._ Then I'll venture my dagger;

Have at your Devils pate; do you mew?

_Enter all._

_Vec._ Hold.

_Pet._ Hold there,

I do command you hold.

_Ant._ Is this the Devil?

Why, Conjurer--

_Pet._ He has been a Devil to you, Sir;

But now you shall forget all; your whore's safe,

And all your jewels, your Boy too.

_John._ Now the Devil indeed

Lay his ten claws upon thee, for my pate

Finds what it is to be a Fiend.

_Ant._ All safe?

_Pet._ 'Pray ye know this person; all's right now.

_Ant._ Your Grace

May now command me then: but where's my whore?

_Pet._ Ready to go to whipping.

_Ant._ My whore whipt?

_Pet._ Yes, your whore without doubt, Sir.

_Ant._ Whipt! 'pray Gentlemen.

_Duke._ Why, would you have her once more rob ye? the young Boy

You may forgive, he was entic'd.

_John._ The whore, Sir,

Would rather carry pity: a handsome whore.

_Ant._ A Gentleman I warrant thee.

_Pet._ Let's in all,

And if we see contrition in your whore, Sir,

Much may be done.

_Duke._ Now my dear fair to you,

And the full consummation of my Vow. [_Exeunt._

Prologue.

_Aptness for Mirth to all, this instant Night_

Thalia _hath prepared for your delight,_

_Her Choice and curious Viands, in each part_

_Season'd with rarities of Wit and Art;_

_Nor fear I to be tax'd for a vain boast,_

_My Promise will find Credit with the most,_

_When they know ingenious_ Fletcher _made it, he_

_Being in himself a perfect Comedie:_

_And some sit here, I doubt not, dare averr_

_Living he made that House a Theatre_

_Which he pleas'd to frequent; and thus much we_

_Could not but pay to his lo[v]d Memorie._

_For our selves, we do entreat that you would not_

_Expect strange turns, and windings in the Plot,_

_Objects of State, and now and then a Rhime,_

_To gall particular Persons with the time;_

_Or that his towring Muse hath made her flight_

_Nearer your apprehension than your sight;_

_But if that sweet Expressions, quick Conceit,_

_Familiar Language, fashion'd to the weight_

_Of such as speak it, have the power to raise_

_Your Grace to us, with Trophies to his Praise;_

_We may profess, presuming on his Skill,_

_If his_ Chances _please not you, our Fortune's ill._

Epilogue.

_We have not held you long, nor do I see_

_One Brow in this selected Companie_

_Assuring a dislike, our Pains were eas'd_

_Could we be confident that all rise pleas'd:_

_But such ambition soars too high; If We_

_Have satisfi'd the best, and they agree_

_In a fair Censure, We have our Reward,_

_And in them arm'd desire no surer Guard._

THE

Bloody Brother;

OR,

ROLLO.

A

TRAGEDY.

Persons Represented in the Play.

Rollo, } _Brothers, Dukes of_ Normandy.

Otto, }

Aubrey, _their kinsman_.

Gisbert, _the Chancellour_.

Baldwin, _the Princes Tutour_.

Grandpree, } _Captains of_ Rollo's _faction_.

Verdon, }

Trevile, } _Captains of_ Otto's _faction_.

Duprete, }

Latorch, Rollo's _Earwig_.

Hamond, _Captain of the Guard to_ Rollo.

Allan, _his Brother_.

Norbrett, }

La Fisk, }

Ru[s]ee, } _Five cheating Rogues._

De Bube, }

Pipeau, }

_Cook._

_Yeoman of the Seller._

_Butler._

_Pantler._

_Lords._

_Sheriff._

_Guard._

_Officers._

_Boys._

_WOMEN._

Sophia, _Mother to the Dukes_.

Matilda, _her Daughter_.

Edith, _Daughter to_ Baldwin.

_Actus Primus. Scena Prima._

_Enter_ Gisbert _and_ Baldwin.

_Bal._ The Brothers then are met?

_Gis._ They are, Sir.

_Bald._ 'Tis thought, they may be reconcil'd.

_Gis._ 'Tis rather wish't, for such, whose reason

Doth direct their thoughts without self flattery,

Dare not hope it.

_Bald._ The fires of Love, which the dead Duke believ'd

His equal care of both would have united,

Ambition hath divided: and there are

Too many on both parts, that know they cannot

Or rise to wealth or honour, their main ends,

Unless the tempest of the Princes fury

Make troubled Seas, and those Seas yield fit Billows

In their bad Arts to give way to a calm,

Which yielding rest and good, prove their ruin,

And in the shipwrack of their hopes and fortunes,

The Dukedom might be sav'd, had it but ten

That stood affected to the general good,

With that confirm'd zeal which brave _Aubrey_ does.

_Gis._ He is indeed the perfect character

Of a good man, and so his actions speak him.

_Bald._ But did you observe the many doubts, and cautions

The Brothers stood upon before they met?

_Gis._ I did; and yet, that ever Brothers should

Stand on more nice terms, than sworn Enemies

After a War proclaim'd, would with a stranger

Wrong the reporters credit; they saluted

At distance; and so strong was the suspicion

Each had of other, that before they durst

Embrace, they were by sev'ral servants searcht,

As doubting conceal'd weapons, Antidotes

Ta'ne openly by both, fearing the room

Appointed for the enter-view was poyson'd,

The Chairs, and Cushions, with like care survay'd;

And in a word in every circumstance

So jealous on both parts, that it is more

Than to be fear'd, concord can never joyn,

Minds so divided.

_Bald._ Yet our best endeavours,

Should not be wanting, Gisbert.

_Gis._ Neither shall they.

_Enter_ Grandpree, _a[n]d_ Verdon.

But what are these?

_Bald._ They are without my knowledge;

But by their manners, and behaviours,

They should express themselves.

_Grand._ Since we serve _Rollo_

The Elder Brother, we'll be _Rollians_,

Who will maintain us, lads, as brave as _Romans_;

You stand for him?

_Ver._ I do.

_Grand._ Why, then observe

How much the business, your so long'd for business,

By men that are nam'd from their swords, concerns you.

Lechery, our common friend, so long kept under,

With whips, and beating fatal hemps, shall rise,

And Bawdery, in a French-hood plead, before her

Virginity shall be Carted.

_Ver._ Excellent!

_Grand._ And Hell but grant, the quarrel that's between

The Princes may continue, and the business

That's of the sword, t'outlast three suits in Law,

And we will make Atturnies Lansprisadoes,

And our brave gown-men practisers of back-sword;

The pewter of all Serjeants maces shall

Be melted, and turn'd into common Flaggons,

In which it shall be lawful to carouse

To their most lowsie fortunes.

_Bald._ Here's a Statesman.

_Grand._ A creditor shall not dare, but by Petition,

To make demand of any debt; and that

Only once every leap-year, in which, if

The debtor may be won for a French Crown,

To pay a Soulz, he shall be registred

His benefactor.

_Ver._ The Chancellor hears you.

_Grand._ Fear not, I now dare speak as loud as he,

And will be heard, and have all I speak, Law;

Have you no eyes? there is a reverence due,

From Children of the Gown, to Men of Action.

_Gis._ How's this?

_Gran._ Even so; the times, the times are chang'd,

All business is not now prefer'd in Parchment,

Nor shall a grant pass that wants this broad seal;

This seal d'ye see? your gravity once laid

My head and heels together in the Dungeon,

For cracking a scald Officers crown, for which

A time is come for vengeance, and expect it;

For know, you have not full three hours to live.

_Gis._ Yes, somewhat longer.

_Gran._ To what end?

_Gis._ To hang you; think on that, Ruffian.

_Gran._ For you, School-master,

You have a pretty Daughter; let me see,

Near three a Clock, (by which time I much fear,

I shall be tyr'd with killing some five hundred)

Provide a Bath, and her to entertain me,

And that shall be your Ransom.

_Bald._ Impudent Rascal.

_Enter to them_ Trevile _and_ Duprete.

_Gis._ More of the crew?

_Grand._ What are you? _Rollians_?

_Tre._ No; this for _Rollo_, and all such as serve him;

We stand for _Otto_.

_Grand._ You seem men of fashion,

And therefore I'le deal fairly, you shall have

The honour this day to be Chronicled

The first men kill'd by _Grandpree_; you see this sword,

A pretty foolish toy, my valour's Servant,

And I may boldly say a Gentleman,

It having made when it was _Charlemaigns_,

Three thousand Knights; this, Sir, shall cut your throat,

And do you all fair service else.

_Tre._ I kiss your hands for the good offer; here's another

too, the servant of your servant shall be proud to be scour'd

in your sweet guts; till when pray you command me.

_Grand._ Your Idolater, Sir. [_Exeunt. Manent_ Gis. _&_ Bal.

_Gis._ That e're such should hold the names of men,

Or Justice be held cruelty, when it labours

To pluck such weeds up!

_Bald._ Yet they are protected, and by the great ones.

_Gis._ Not the good ones, _Baldwin_.

_Enter to them_ Aubrey.

_Aub._ Is this a time to be spent thus by such

As are the principal Ministers of the State?

When they that are the heads, have fill'd the Court

With factions, a weak Woman only left

To stay their bloudy hands? can her weak arms

Alone divert the dangers ready now

To fall upon the Common-wealth, and bury

The honours of it, leaving not the name

Of what it was. Oh _Gisbert_, the fair tryals,

And frequent proofs which our late master made,

Both of your love and faith, gave him assurance,

To chuse you at his death a Guardian; nay,

A Father to his Sons; and that great trust,

How ill do you discharge! I must be plain,

That, at the best, y'are a sad looker on

Of those bad practices you should prevent.

And where's the use of your Philosophy

In this so needful a time? be not secure;

For, _Baldwin_, be assur'd, since that the Princes,

When they were young, and apt for any form,

Were given to your instruction, and grave ordering;

'Twill be expected that they should be good,

Or their bad manners will b' imputed yours.

_Bald._ 'Twas not in one, my Lord, to alter nature.

_Gis._ Nor can my counsels work on them that will not

Vouchsafe me hearing.

_Aub._ Do these answers sort,

Or with your place, or persons, or your years?

Can Gisbert being the pillar of the Laws,

See them trod under foot, or forc'd to serve

The Princes unjust ends; and with a frown

Be silenc'd from exclaiming on th' abuse?

Or _Baldwin_ only weep the desp'rate madness

Of his seduced pupills? see their minds,

Which with good Arts he labour'd to build up

Examples of succeeding times, o'return'd

By undermining parasites; no one precept

Leading to any Art, or great, or good,

But is forc'd from their memory, in whose room

Black counsels are receiv'd, and their retirements,

And secret conference producing only

Dev'lish designs, a man would shame to father;

But I talk when I should do, and chide others

For that I now offend in: see't confirm'd,

Now do, or never speak more.

_Gis._ We are yours.

_Enter_ Rollo, Latorch, Trevile, Grandpree, Otto, Verdon,

_and_ Duprete.

_Rol._ You shall know who I am.

_Otto._ I do, my equal.

_Rol._ Thy Prince; give way--were we alone, I'de force thee,

In thy best bloud, to write thy self my subject,

And glad I would receive it.

_Aub._ Sir.

_Gis._ Dear Lord.

_Otto._ Thy subject?

_Rol._ Yes, nor shall tame patience hold me

A minute longer, only half my self;

My birth gave me this Dukedom, and my sword

Shall change it to the common grave of all

That tread upon her bosom, e're I part with

A piece of earth, or title that is mine.

_Otto._ It needs not, and I would scorn to receive,

Though offer'd, what I want not: therefore know

From me, though not deliver'd in great words,

Eyes red with rage, poor pride, and threatned action;

Our Father at his death, then, when no accent,

Wer't thou a Son, could fall from him in vain,

Made us Co-heirs, our part of Land and Honours

Of equal weight; and to see this confirm'd,

The Oaths of these are yet upon record,

Who though they should forsake me, and call down

The plagues of perjury on their sinful heads,

I would not leave my self.

_Tre._ Nor will we see the Will of the dead Duke infring'd.

_Lat._ Nor I the elder rob'd of what's his right.

_Grand._ Nor you?

Let me take place, I say, I will not see't;

My sword is sharpest.

_Aub._ Peace you tinder-boxes,

That only carry matter to make a flame,

Which will consume you.

_Rol._ You are troublesome, [_To_ Baldwin.

This is no time for arguments, my Title

Needs not your School-defences, but my sword,

With which the Gordian of your Sophistry

Being cut, shall shew th' Imposture. For your laws [_To_

It is in me to change them when I please, [Gisbert.

I being above them; _Gisbert_, would you have me protect them;

Let them now stretch their extreamest rigour,

And seize upon that Traytor; and your tongue

Make him appear first dangerous, then odious;

And after, under the pretence of safety

For the sick State, the Lands and Peoples quiet,

Cut off his head: and I'le give up my sword,

And fight with them at a more certain weapon

To kill, and with Authority.

_Gis._ Sir, I grant the Laws are useful weapons, but found out

T'assure the Innocent, not to oppress.

_Rol._ Then you conclude him Innocent?

_Gis._ The power your Father gave him, must not prove a Crime.

_Aub._ Nor should you so receive it.

_Bald._ To which purpose,

All that dare challenge any part in goodness,

Will become suppliants to you.

_Rol._ They have none

That dare move me in this: hence, I defie you,

Be of his party, bring it to your Laws,

And thou thy double heart, thou popular fool,

Your moral rules of justice and her ballance;

I stand on mine own guard.

_Otto._ Which thy unjustice

Will make thy enemies; by the memory

Of him, whose better part now suffers for thee,

Whose reverend ashes with an impious hand

Thou throw'st out to contempt, in thy repining

At this so just decree; thou art unworthy

Of what his last Will, not thy merits, gave thee,

That art so swoln within, with all those mischiefs

That e're made up a Tyrant, that thy breast,

The prison of thy purposes, cannot hold them,

But that they break forth, and in thy own words

Discover, what a monster they must serve

That shall acknowledge thee.

_Rol._ Thou shalt not live to be so happy.

_Aub._ Nor your miseries begin in murther.

[_He offers his sword at_ Otto, _the faction joyning_,

[Aubrey _between severs the Brothers_.

Duty, allegeance, and all respects of what you are, forsake me:

Do you stare on? is this a Theater?

Or shall these kill themselves, like to mad fencers,

To make you sport? keep them asunder, or

By Heaven I'le charge on all.

_Grand._ Keep the peace,

I am for you, my Lord, and if you'l have me,

I'le act the Constables part.

_Aub._ Live I to see this?

Will you do that your enemies dare not wish,

And cherish in your selves those furies, which

Hell would cast out? Do, I am ready; kill me,

And these, that would fall willing sacrifices

To any power that would restore your reason,

And make you men again, which now you are not.

_Rol._ These are your bucklers boy.

_Otto._ My hinderances;

And were I not confirm'd, my justice in

The taking of thy life, could not weigh down

The wrong, in shedding the least drop of bloud

Of these whose goodness only now protects thee,

Thou should'st feel I in act would only prove my self

What thou in words do'st labour to appear.

_Rol._ Hear this, and talk again! I'le break through all,

But I will reach thy heart.

_Otto._ 'Tis better guarded.

_Enter_ Sophia.

_Soph._ Make way, or I will force it, who are those?

My Sons? my shames; turn all your swords on me,

And make this wretched body but one wound,

So this unnatural quarrel find a grave

In the unhappy womb that brought you forth:

Dare you remember that you had a Mother,

Or look on these gray hairs, made so with tears,

For both your goods, and not with age; and yet

Stand doubtful to obey her? from me you had

Life, Nerves, and faculties, to use these weapons;

And dare you raise them against her, to whom

You owe the means of being what you are?

_Otto._ All peace is meant to you.

_Soph._ Why is this War then?

As if your arms could be advanc'd, and I

Not set upon the rack? your bloud is mine,

Your dangers mine, your goodness I should share in;

I must be branded with those impious marks

You stamp on your own foreheads and on mine,

If you go on thus: for my good name therefore,

Though all respects of honour in your selves

Be in your fury choakt, throw down your swords;

Your duty should be swifter than my tongue;

And joyn your hands while they be innocent;

You have heat of bloud, and youth apt to Ambition,

To plead an easie pardon for what's past:

But all the ills beyond this hour committed,

From Gods or men must hope for no excuse.

_Gis._ Can you hear this unmov'd?

No Syllable of this so pious charm, but should have power

To frustrate all the juggling deceits,

With which the Devil blinds you.

_Otto._ I begin to melt, I know not how.

_Rol._ Mother, I'le leave you;

And, Sir, be thankful for the time you live,

Till we meet next (which shall be soon and sudden)

To her perswasion for you.

_Soph._ O yet, stay,

And rather than part thus, vouchsafe me hearing,

As enemies; how is my soul divided?

My love to both is equal, as my wishes;

But are return'd by neither; my griev'd heart,

Hold yet a little longer, and then break.

I kneel to both, and will speak so, but this

Takes from me th' authority of a mothers power;

And therefore, like my self, _Otto_, to thee,

(And yet observe, son, how thy mothers tears

Outstrip her forward words, to make way for'em)

Thou art the younger, _Otto_, yet be now

The first example of obedience to me,

And grow the elder in my love.

_Otto._ The means to be so happy?

_Soph._ This; yield up thy sword,

And let thy piety give thy mother strength

To take that from thee, which no enemies force

Could e're despoil thee of: why do'st thou tremble,

And with a fearful eye fixt on thy Brother,

Observ'st his ready sword, as bent against thee?

I am thy armour, and will be pierc'd through,

Ten thousand times, before I will give way

To any peril may arrive at thee;

And therefore fear not.

_Otto._ 'Tis not for my self,

But for you, mother; you are now ingag'd

In more tha[n] lies in your unquestion'd vertue;

For, since you have disarm'd me of defence,

Should I fall now, though by his hand, the world

May say it was your practice.

_Soph._ All worlds perish,

Before my piety turn treasons parent,

Take it again, and stand upon your guard,

And while your Brother is, continue arm'd;

And yet, this fear is needless, for I know,

My _Rollo_, though he dares as much as man,

So tender of his yet untainted valour,

So noble, that he dares do nothing basely.

You doubt him; he fears you; I doubt and fear

Both; for others safety, and not mine own.

Know yet, my sons, when of necessity

You must deceive, or be deceiv'd; 'tis better

To suffer Treason, than to act the Traytor;

And in a War like this, in which the glory

Is his that's overcome; consider then

What 'tis for which you strive: is it the Dukedom?

Or the command of these so ready subjects?

Desire of wealth? or whatsoever else

Fires your ambition? This still desp'rate madness,

To kill the people which you would be Lords of;

With fire, and sword to lay that Country waste

Whose rule you seek for: to consume the treasures,

Which are the sinews of your Government,

In cherishing the factions that destroy it:

Far, far be this from you: make it not question'd

Whether you have interest in that Dukedom,

Whose ruine both contend for.

_Otto._ I desire but to enjoy my own, which I will keep.

_Rol._ And rather than posterity shall have cause

To say I ruin'd all, divide the Dukedom,

I will accept the moiety.

_Ott._ I embrace it.

_Soph._ Divide me first, or tear me limb by limb,

And let them find as many several Graves

As there are villages in _Normandy_:

And 'tis less sin, than thus to weaken it.

To hear it mention'd doth already make me

Envy my dead Lord, and almost Blaspheme

Those powers that heard my prayer for fruitfulness,

And did not with my first birth close my womb:

To me alone my second blessing proves

My first of misery, for if that Heaven

Which gave me _Rollo_, there had staid his bounty,

And _Otto_, my dear _Otto_, ne're had been,

Or being, had not been so worth my love,

The stream of my affection had run constant

In one fair current, all my hopes had been

Laid up in one; and fruitful _Normandy_

In this division had not lost her glories:

For as 'tis now, 'tis a fair Diamond,

Which being preserv'd intire, exceeds all value,

But cut in pieces (though these pieces are

Set in fine gold by the best work-mans cunning)

Parts with all estimation: So this Dukedom,

As 'tis yet whole, the neighbouring Kings may covet,

But cannot compass; which divided, will

Become the spoil of every barbarous foe

That will invade it.

_Gis._ How this works in both!

_Bal._ Prince _Rollo_'s eyes have lost their fire.

_Gis._ And anger, that but now wholly possessed

Good Otto, hath given place to pity.

_Aub._ End not thus Madam, but perfect what's so well begun.

_Soph._ I see in both, fair signs of reconcilement,

Make them sure proofs they are so: the Fates offer

To your free choice, either to live Examples

Of Piety, or wickedness: if the later

Blinds so your understanding, that you cannot

Pierce through her painted out-side, and discover

That she is all deformity within,

Boldly transcend all precedents of mischief,

And let the last, and the worst end of tyrannies,

The murther of a Mother, but begin

The stain of bloud you after are to heighten:

But if that vertue, and her sure rewards,

Can win you to accept her for your guide,

To lead you up to Heaven, and there fix you

The fairest Stars in the bright Sphere of honour;

Make me the parent of an hundred sons,

All brought into the world with joy, not sorrow,

And every one a Father to his Country,

In being now made Mother of your concord.

_Rol._ Such, and so good, loud fame for ever speak you.

_Bal._ I, now they meet like Brothers.

[_The Brothers cast away their Swords and embrace._

_Gis._ My hearts joy flows through my eyes.

_Aub._ May never Womans tongue

Hereafter be accus'd, for this ones Goodness.

_Otto._ If we contend, from this hour, it shall be

How to o'recome in brotherly affection.

_Rol._ _Otto_ is _Rollo_ now, and _Rollo_, _Otto_,

Or as they have one mind, rather one name:

From this attonement let our lives begin,

Be all the rest forgotten.

_Aub._ Spoke like _Rollo_.

_Soph._ And to the honour of this reconcilement,

We all this night will at a publick Feast

With choice Wines drown our late fears, and with Musick

Welcome our comforts.

_Bald._ Sure and certain ones. [_Exeunt._

[_Manent_ Grandpree, Verdon, Trevile _and_ Duprete.

_Grand._ Did ever such a hopeful business end thus?

_Ver._ 'Tis fatal to us all, and yet you _Grandpree_,

Have the least cause to fear.

_Grand._ Why, what's my hope?

_Ver._ The certainty that you have to be hang'd;

You know the Chancellours promise.

_Grand._ Plague upon you.

_Ver._ What think you of a Bath, and a Lords Daughter

To entertain you?

_Grand._ Those desires are off.

Frail thoughts, all friends, no _Rollians_ now, nor _Ottoes_:

The sev'ral court'sies of our swords and servants

Defer to after consequence; let's make use

Of this nights freedom, a short Parliament to us,

In which it will be lawful to walk freely.

Nay, to our drink we shall have meat too, that's

No usual business to the men o'th' sword.

Drink deep with me to night, we shall to morrow,

Or whip, or hang the merrier.

_Tre._ Lead the way then. [_Exeunt._

_Actus Secundus. Scena Prima._

_Enter_ Latorch, _and_ Rollo.

_Lato._ Why should this trouble you?

_Rol._ It does, and must do till I find ease.

_Lato._ Consider then, and quickly;

And like a wise man, take the current with you,

Which once turn'd head, will sink you; blest occasion

Offers her self in thousand safeties to you;

Time standing still to point you out your purpose,

And resolution (the true child of Vertue)

Readie to execute: what dull cold weakness

Has crept into your bosom, whose meer thoughts

Like tempests, plowing up the sayling Forests,

Even with their swing were wont to shake down hazards.

What is't, your Mothers tears?

_Rol._ Pray thee be patient.

_Lat._ Her hands held up? her prayers, or her curses?

Oh power of paper dropt through by a woman!

Take heed the Souldiers see it not; 'tis miserable,

In _Rollo_ below miserable; take heed your friends,

The sinews of your cause, the strength you stir by,

Take heed, I say, they find it not: take heed

Your own repentance (like a passing-bell)

Too late, and too loud, tell the world y'are perisht:

What noble spirit, eager of advancement,

Whose imployment is his plough; what sword whose sharpness

Waits but the arm to wield it; or what hope,

After the world has blown abroad this weakness,

Will move again, or make a wish for _Rollo_?

_Rol._ Are we not friends again by each oath ratified,

Our tongues the Heralds to our hearts?

_Lat._ Poor hearts then.

_Rol._ Our worthier friends.

_Lat._ No friends Sir, to your honour;

Friends to your fall: where is your understanding,

The noble vessel that your full soul sail'd in,

Rib'd round with honours; where is that? 'tis ruin'd,

The tempest of a womans sighs has sunk it.

Friendship, take heed Sir, is a smiling harlot

That when she kisses, kills, a soder'd friendship

Piec'd out with promises; O painted ruine!

_Rol._ _Latorch_, he is my Brother.

_Lat._ The more doubted;

For hatred hatcht at home is a tame Tiger,

May fawn and sport, but never leaves his nature;

The jars of Brothers, two such mighty ones,

Is like a small stone thrown into a river,

The breach scarce heard, but view the beaten current,

And you shall see a thousand angry rings

Rise in his face, still swelling and still growing;

So jars circling distrusts, distrusts breed dangers,

And dangers death, the greatest extreme shadow,

Till nothing bound 'em but the shoar their graves;

There is no manly wisedom, nor no safety

In leaning to this league, this piec'd patcht friendship;

This rear'd up reconcilement on a billow,

Which as it tumbles, totters down your fortune;

Is't not your own you reach at? Law and nature

Ushering the way before you; is not he

Born and bequeath'd your subject?

_Rol._ Ha.

_Lat._ What fool would give a storm leave to disturb his peace,

When he may shut the casement? can that man

Has won so much upon your pity,

And drawn so high, that like an ominous Comet,

He darkens all your light; can this toucht Lyon

(Though now he licks and locks up his fell paws,

Craftily huming, like a catt to cozen you)

But when ambition whets him, and time fits him,

Leap to his prey, and seiz'd once, suck your heart out?

Do you make it conscience?

_Rol._ Conscience, _Latorch_, what's that?

_Lat._ A fear they tye up fools in, natures coward,

Palling the blood, and chilling the full spirit

With apprehension of meer clouds and shadows.

_Rol._ I know no conscience, nor I fear no shadows.

_Lat._ Or if you did, if there were conscience,

If the free soul could suffer such a curb

To the fiery mind, such puddles to put it out;

Must it needs like a rank Vine, run up rudely,

And twine about the top of all our happiness,

Honour and rule, and there sit shaking of us?

_Rol._ It shall not, nor it must not; I am satisfied,

And once more am my self again:

My Mothers tears and womanish cold prayers,

Farewel, I have forgot you; if there be conscience,

Let it not come betwixt a crown and me,

Which is my hope of bliss, and I believe it:

_Otto_, our friendship thus I blow to air,

A bubble for a boy to play withal;

And all the vows my weakness made, like this,

Like this poor heartless rush, I rend in pieces.

_Lat._ Now you go right, Sir, now your eyes are open.

_Rol._ My Fathers last petition's dead as he is,

And all the promises I clos'd his eyes with,

In the same grave I bury.

_Lat._ Now y'are a man, Sir.

_Rol._ _Otto_, thou shewst my winding sheet before me,

Which e're I put it on, like Heavens blest fire

In my descent I'le make it blush in blood;

A Crown, A Crown, Oh sacred Rule, now fire me,

Nor shall the pity of thy youth, false Brother,

Although a thousand Virgins kneel before me,

And every dropping eye a court of mercy,

The same blood with me, nor the reverence

Due to my mothers blest womb that bred us,

Redeem thee from my doubts: thou art a wolf here,

Fed with my fears, and I must cut thee from me:

A Crown, A Crown; Oh sacred Rule, now fire me:

No safety else.

_Lat._ But be not too much stir'd, Sir, nor too high

In your execution: swallowing waters

Run deep and silent, till they are satisfied,

And smile in thousand Curles, to guild their craft;

Let your sword sleep, and let my two edg'd wit work,

This happy feast, the full joy of your friendships

Shall be his last.

_Rol._ How, my _Latorch_?

_Lat._ Why thus, Sir;

I'le presently go dive into the Officers

That minister at Table: gold and goodness,

With promise upon promise, and time necessary,

I'le pour into them.

_Rol._ Canst thou do it neatly?

_Lat._ Let me alone, and such a bait it shall be,

Shall take off all suspicion.

_Rol._ Go, and prosper.

_Lat._ Walk in then, and your smoothest face put on Sir.

[_Exeunt._

SCENE II.

_Enter the Master Cook, Butler, Pantler, Yeoman of the Cellar,

with a Jack of Beer and a Dish._

_Cook._ A hot day, a hot day, vengeance hot day boys,

Give me some drink, this fire's a plaguy fretter:

Body of me, I'm dry still; give me the Jack boy;

This wooden Skiff holds nothing.

_Pant._ And faith master, what brave new meats; for here

Will be old eating.

_Coo._ Old and young, boy, let 'em all eat, I have it;

I have ballast for their bellies, if they eat a gods name,

Let them have ten tire of teeth a piece, I care not.

_But._ But what new rare munition?

_Coo._ Pish, a thousand;

I'le make you piggs speak _French_ at table, and a fat swan

Come sailing out of _England_ with a challenge;

I'le make you a dish of calves-feet dance the Canaries,

And a consort of cramm'd capons fiddle to 'em;

A calves head speak an Oracle, and a dozen of Larks

Rise from the dish, and sing all supper time;

'Tis nothing boyes: I have framed a fortification

Out of Rye paste, which is impregnable,

And against that, for two long hours together,

Two dozen of marrow-bones shall play continually:

For fish, I'le make you a standing lake of white broth,

And pikes come ploughing up the plums before them;

_Arion_, like a Dolphin, playing Lachrymæ,

And brave King Herring with his oyle and onyon

Crown'd with a Limon pill, his way prepar'd

With his strong Guard of Pilchers.

_Pant._ I marry Master.

_Coo._ All these are nothing: I'le make you a stubble Goose

Turn o'th' toe thrice, do a cross point presently,

And sit down again, and cry come eat me:

These are for mirth. Now Sir, for matter of mourning,

I'le bring you in the Lady Loyn of Veal,

With the long love she bore the Prince of _Orenge_.

_All._ Thou boy, thou.

_Coo._ I have a trick for thee too,

And a rare trick, and I have done it for thee.

_Yeo._ What's that good master?

_Coo._ 'Tis a sacrifice.

A full Vine bending, like an Arch, and under

The blown god _Bacchus_, sitting on a Hogshead,

His Altar Beer: before that, a plump Vintner

Kneeling, and offring incense to his deitie,

Which shall be only this, red Sprats and Pilchers.

_But._ This when the Table's drawn, to draw the wine on.

_Coo._ Thou hast it right, and then comes thy Song, Butler.

_Pant._ This will be admirable.

_Yeo._ Oh Sir, most admirable.

_Coo._ If you'l have the pasty speak, 'tis in my power,

I have fire enough to work it; come, stand close,

And now rehearse the Song, we may be perfect,

The drinking Song, and say I were the Brothers.

The drinking SONG.

_Drink to day and drown all sorrow._

_You shall perhaps not do it to morrow._

_Best while you have it use your breath,_

_There is no drinking after death._

_Wine works the heart up, wakes the wit,_

_There is no cure 'gainst age but it._

_It helps the head-ach, cough and tissick,_

_And is for all diseases Physick._

_Then let us swill boyes for our health,_

_Who drinks well, loves the common-wealth._

_And he that will to bed go sober,_

_Falls with the leaf still in October._

Well have you born your selves; a red Deer Pye, Boyes,

And that no lean one, I bequeath your vertues;

What friends hast thou to day? no citizens?

_Pant._ Yes Father, the old Crew.

_Coo._ By the mass true wenches:

Sirrah, set by a chine of Beef, and a hot Pasty,

And let the Joll of Sturgeon be corrected:

And do you mark Sir, stalk me to a Pheasant,

And see if you can shoot her in the Sellar.

_Pant._ God a mercy Lad, send me thy roaring bottles,

And with such Nectar I will see 'em fill'd,

That all thou speak'st shall be pure Helicon.

_Enter_ Latorch.

Monsieur _Latorch_? what news with him? Save you.