WOMEN.

Theodosia, Daugh. to _Alphonso_. Leocadia, Daugh. to Don

_Zanchio_. Love-sick Ladies in pursuit of _M. Anton._

Eugenia, Wife to the Governor of _Barcellona_.

Hostess, Wife to _Diego_.

Hostess, Wife to the Host of _Barcellona_.

The Scene Barcellona

and the Road.

Actus Primus, Scæna Prima.

_Enter_ Incubo _the Bailiff_, Diego _the Host_.

_Inc._ Signior Don _Diego_, and mine Host, save thee.

_Die._ I thank you Mr. Baily.

_Inc._ O the block!

_Die._ Why, how should I have answer'd?

_Inc._ Not with that

Negligent rudeness: But I kiss your hands

Signior Don _Incubo de Hambre_, and then

My Titles: Master Baily of _Castle-blanco_:

Thou ne'r wilt have the elegancy of an Host;

I sorrow for thee, as my friend and Gossip:

No smoak, nor steam out-breathing from the kitchen?

There's little life i'th Hearth then.

_Die._ I, there, there,

That is his friendship, harkening for the spit,

And sorrow that he cannot smell the pot boil.

_Inc._ Strange

An Inn should be so curst, and not the sign

Blasted, nor withered; very strange, three days now,

And not an Egg eat in it, nor an Onion.

_Die._ I think they ha' strew'd the high-ways with caltraps, I,

No horse dares pass 'em; I did never know

A week of so sad doings, since I first

Stood to my Sign-post.

_Inc._ Gossip, I have found

The root of all: kneel, [pray,] it is thy self

Art cause thereof: each person is the Founder

Of his own fortune, good or bad; but mend it,

Call for thy Cloak, and Rapier.

_Die._ How?

_Inc._ Do, call,

And put 'em on in haste: Alter thy fortune,

By appearing worthy of her: Dost thou think

Her good face e'r will know a man in _cuerpo_?

In single body, thus? in Hose, and Doublet

The horse-boys garb? base blank, and halfe blank _cuerpo_?

Did I, or Mr Dean of _Sivil_ our neighbor

E'r reach our dignities in _cuerpo_, think'st thou,

In squirting Hose and Doublet? Signior, no,

There went more to't: there were Cloaks, Gowns, Cassocks,

And other _paramentos_; Call, I say,

His Cloak, and Rapier here.

_Enter_ Hostess.

_Host._ What means your Worship?

_Inc._ Bring forth thy Husbands Sword: so hang it on,

And now his cloak, here cast it up; I mean

Gossip, to change your luck, and bring you guests.

_Host._ Why? is there charm in this?

_Inc._ Expect; now walk,

But not the pace of one that runs on errands;

For, want of gravity in an Host, is odious:

You may remember Gossip, if you please,

(Your Wife being then th' Infanta of the Gipsies,

And your self governing a great mans Mules then)

Me a poor Squire at _Madrid_ attending

A Master of Ceremonies; But a man, believe it,

That knew his place to the gold weight, and such

Have I heard him [oft] say, ought every Host

Within the Catholique Kings Dominions

Be in his own house.

_Die._ How?

_Inc._ A Master of Ceremonies;

At least Vice-Master, and to do nought in _cuerpo_,

That was his Maxim, I will tell thee of him:

He would not speak with an Ambassadors Cook,

See a cold bake-meat from a forreign part

In _cuerpo_: had a dog but staid without,

Or beast of quality, as an _English_ Cow,

But to present it self, he would put on

His _Savoy_ chain about his neck, the ruff

And cuffs of _Holland_, then the _Naples_ Hat

With the _Rome_ Hat-band, and the _Florentin[e]_ Agat,

The _Millan_ Sword, the Cloak of _Genoa_, set

With _Flemish_ buttons; all his given pieces

To entertain 'em in, and complement [_Knock within._

With a tame Conie, as with the Prince that sent it.

_Die._ List. Who is there?

_Inc._ A guest and 't be thy will.

_Die._ Look Spowse, cry luck, and we be encounter'd: ha?

_Host._ Luck then, and good, for 'tis a fine brave guest,

With a brave horse.

_Inc._ Why now, believe of _cuerpo_.

_Enter_ Theodosia.

As you shall see occasion: go, and meet him.

_Theo._ Look to my horse, I pray you, well.

_Die._ He shall, Sir.

_Inc._ Oh how beneath his rank and call was that now?

Your horse shall be entreated as becomes

A horse of fashion, and his inches.

_Theo._ Oh.

_Inc._ Look to the Cavalier: what ails he? stay

If it concern his horse, let it not trouble him,

He shall have all respect the place can yield him

Either of barley, or fresh straw.

_Die._ Good Sir

Look up.

_Inc._ He sinks, somewhat to cast upon him,

He'll go away in _cuerpo_ else.

_Die._ What, Wife!

Oh your hot waters quickly, and some cold

To cast in his sweet face.

_Host._ Alas, fair flower?

_Die._ Does any body entertain his Horse?

_Host._ Yes, _Lazaro_ has him.

_Enter_ Hostess _with a glass of water_.

_Inc._ Go you see him in person.

_Host._ Sir, taste a little of this, of mine own water,

I did distill't my self; swe[e]t Lilly look upon me,

You are but newly blown, my pretty Tulip.

Faint not upon your stalk, 'tis firm and fresh

Stand up so bolt upright, you are yet in growing.

_The._ Pray you let me have a chamber.

_Host._ That you shall, Sir.

_The._ And where I may be private, I intreat you.

_Host._ For that in troth Sir, we ha no choice: our house

Is but a _vent_ of need, that now and then

Receives a guest, between the greater Towns

As they come late; only one room.

_Inc._ She means, Sir, it is none

Of those wild, scatter'd heaps, call'd Inns, where scarce

The Host is heard, though he wind his horn t' his people,

Here is a competent pile, wherein the man,

Wife, Servants, all do live within the whistle.

_Host._ Only one room.

_Inc._ A pretty modest quadrangle

She will describe to you.

_Host._ Wherein stands two Beds Sir.

_Enter_ Diego.

We have, and where, if any guest do come,

He must of force be lodg'd, that is the truth, Sir.

_Theo._ But if I pay you for both your beds, methinks

That should alike content you.

_Host._ That it shall, Sir.

If I be paid, I am paid.

_Theo._ Why, there's a Ducket

Will that make your content?

_Host._ Oh the sweet face on you:

A Ducket? yes, and there were three beds Sir,

And twice so many rooms, which is one more,

You should be private in 'em all, in all Sir,

No one should have a piece of a bed with you

Not master Dean of _Sivil_ himself, I swear.

Though he came naked hither, as once he did

When h' had like t'have been tane a bed with the _Moor_

And guelt by her Master: you shall be as private,

As if you lay in's own great house that's haunted,

Where no body comes, they say.

_Theo._ I thank you Hostess.

Pray you, will you shew me in.

_Host._ Yes marry will I Sir,

And pray that not a flea, or a chink vex you.

[_Exit_ Host. _and_ Theo.

_Inc._ You forget supper: Gossip: move for supper.

_Die._ 'Tis strange what love to a beast may do, his Horse

Threw him into this fit.

_Inc._ You shall excuse me

It was his being in _cuerpo_, meerly caus'd it.

_Die._ Do you think so Sir?

_Inc._ Most unlucky _cuerpo_.

Naught else, he looks as he would eat Partridge,

This guest; ha' you 'em ready in the house?

And a fine piece of Kid now? and fresh garlick

_Enter_ Hostess.

With _Sardinia_ and _Zant_ Oil? how now?

Has he bespoke, what will he have a brace,

Or but one Partridge, or a short leg'd Hen,

Daintyly carbonado'd?

_Host._ 'Lass the dead

May be as ready for a supper as he.

_Inc._ Ha?

_Host._ He has no mind to eat, more than his shadow.

_Inc._ Say you.

_Die._ How does your worship?

_Inc._ I put on

My left shooe first to day, now I perceive it,

And skipt a bead in saying 'em 'ore; else

I could not be thus cross'd: He cannot be

Above seventeen; one of his years, and have

No better a stomach?

_Host._ And in such good cloaths too.

_Die._ Nay, these do often make the stomach worse, wife,

That is no reason.

_Inc._ I could, at his years, Gossips

(As temperate as you see me now) have eaten

My brace of Ducks, with my half Goose, my Conie,

And drink my whole twelve _Marvedis_ in Wine

As easie as I now get down three Olives.

_Die._ And, with your temperance-favour, yet I think

Your worship would put to't at six and thirty

For a good wager; and the meal in too.

_Inc._ I do not know what mine old mouth can do.

I ha not prov'd it lately.

_Die._ That's the grief, Sir.

_Inc._ But is he without hope then gone to bed?

_Host._ I fear so, Sir, h'as lock'd the door close to him

Sure he is very ill.

_Inc._ That is with fasting,

You should ha told him Gossip, what you had had,

Given him the Inventory of your kitchen,

It is the picklock in an Inn, and often

Opens a close barr'd stomach: what may he be troh?

Has he so good a Horse?

_Die._ Oh a brave Jennet,

As e'r your worship saw.

_Inc._ And he eats?

_Die._ Strongly.

_Inc._ A mighty Solecisme, heaven give me patience,

What creatures has he?

_Host._ None.

_Inc._ And so well cloath'd,

And so well mounted?

_Die._ That's all my wonder, Sir,

Who he should be; he is attir'd and hors'd

For the _Constables_ Son of _Spain_.

_Inc._ My wonders more

He should want appetite: well a good night

To both my Gossips: I will for this time

Put off the thought of supping: In the morning

Remember him of breakfast pray you.

_Host._ I shall Sir.

_Die._ A hungry time Sir.

_Inc._ We that live like mice

On others meat, must watch when we can get it. [_Exit_ Incubo.

_Host._ Yes, but I would not tell him: Our fair guest

Says, though he eats no supper he will pay for one.

_Die._ Good news: we'll eat it spouse, t' his health,

'Twas politickly done t'admit no sharers.

_Enter_ Philippo.

_Phi._ Look to the Mules there, where's mine Host?

_Die._ Here Sir.

Another Fayerie.

_Host._ Bless me.

_Phi._ From what sweet Hostess?

Are you afraid o' your guests?

_Host._ From Angels, Sir,

I think there's none but such come here to night,

My house had never so good luck afore

For brave, fine guests; and yet the ill luck on't is

I cannot bid you welcome.

_Phi._ No?

_Host._ Not lodge you Sir.

_Phi._ Not, Hostess?

_Host._ No in troth Sir, I do tell you

Because you may provide in time: my beds

Are both tane up by a young Cavalier

That will and must be private.

_Die._ He has paid Sir

For all our Chambers.

_Host._ Which is one: and Beds

Which I already ha told you are two: But Sir,

So sweet a creature, I am very sorry

I cannot lodge you by him; you look so like him

Yo' are both the loveliest pieces.

_Phi._ What train has he?

_Die._ None but himself.

_Phi._ And will no less than both beds

Serve him?

_Host._ H'as given me a Ducket for 'em.

_Phi._ Oh.

You give me reason Hostess: Is he handsome,

And young do you say?

_Host._ Oh Sir, the delicat'st flesh

And finest cloths withal, and such a horse,

With such a Saddle.

_Phi._ She's in love with all.

The horse and him, and Saddle, and cloths, good woman,

Thou justifiest thy Sex; lov'st all that's brave:

_Enter_ Incubo.

Sure though I lye o'th' ground, I'll stay here now

And have a sight of him: you'll give me house-room,

Fire, and fresh meat, for money, gentle Hostess;

And make me a pallat?

_Inc._ Sir, she shall do reason....

I understood you had another Guest, Gossips,

Pray you let his Mule be lookt to, have good straw,

And store of bran: And Gossip, do you hear,

Let him not stay for supper: What good Fowl ha' you?

This Gentleman would eat a Pheasant.

_Host._ 'Lass Sir;

We ha' no such.

_Inc._ I kiss your hands fair Sir.

What ha you then? speak what you have? I'm one Sir

Here for the Catholique King, an Officer

T' enquire what guests come to these places; you Sir

Appear a person of quality, and 'tis fit

You be accommodated: why speak you not,

What ha' you Woman? are you afraid to vent

That which you have?

_Phil._ This is a most strange man;

T' appoint my meat.

_Host._ The half of a cold hen, Sir,

And a boil'd quarter of Kid, is all i'th' house.

_Inc._ Why all's but cold; let him see it forth,

Cover, and give the eye some satisfaction,

A Travellers stomach must see bread and salt,

His belly is nearer to him, than his kindred;

Cold hen's a pretty meat Sir.

_Phi._ What you please;

I am resolv'd t' obey.

_Inc._ So is your Kid,

With Pepper, Garlick, and the juyce of an Orange:

She shall with Sallads help it, and clean linnen;

Dispatch; what news at Court Sir?

_Phi._ Faith, new tires

Most of the Ladies have, the men old Suits:

Only the Kings Fool has a new Coat

To serve you.

_Inc._ I did guess you came from thence, Sir.

_Phi._ But I do know I did not.

_Inc._ I mistook Sir.

What hear you of the Archdukes?

_Phi._ Troth your question.

_Enter Hostess and Servants with Table._

_Inc._ Of the _French_ business, What?

_Phi._ As much.

_Inc._ No more?

They say the _French_: Oh that's well: come, I'll help you:

Have you no Jiblets now? or a broil'd rasher.

Or some such present dish t' assist?

_Host._ Not any Sir.

_Inc._ The more your fault: you nev'r should be without

Such aids: what cottage would ha' lack'd a Pheasant

At such a time as this? well, bring your Hen,

And Kid forth quickly.

_Phi._ That should be my prayer

To scape his Inquisition.

_Inc._ Sir, the _French_,

They say are divided 'bout their match with us,

What think you of it.

_Phi._ As of naught to me, Sir.

_Inc._ Nay, it's as little to me too: but I love

To ask after these things, to know the affections

Of States and Princes, now and then for bettring.

_Phi._ Of your own ignorance.

_Inc._ Yes Sir:

_Phi._ Many do so.

_Inc._ I cannot live without it: what do you hear

Of our _Indian_ Fleet; they say they are well return'd.

_Phi._ I had no venture with 'em Sir; had you?

_Enter Hostess and Servants with meat._

_Inc._ Why do you ask Sir?

_Phi._ 'Cause it might concern you,

It does not me.

_Inc._ Oh here's your meat come.

_Phi._ Thanks,

I welcome it at any price.

_Inc._ Some stools here,

And bid mine Host bring Wine, I'll try your Kid,

If he be sweet: he looks well, yes, he is good;

I'll carve you Sir.

_Phi._ You use me too too Princely:

Tast, and carve too.

_Inc._ I love to do these Offices.

_Phi._ I think you do: for whose sake?

_Inc._ For themselves Sir,

The very doing of them is reward.

_Phi._ 'Had little faith would not believe you, Sir.

_Inc._ Gossip, some Wine.

_Enter_ Diego _with Wine._

_Die._ Here 'tis: and right _St. Martyn_.

_Inc._ Measure me out a glass.

_Phi._ I love the humanity

Us'd in this place:

_Inc._ Sir, I salute you here.

_Phil._ I kiss your hands Sir.

_Inc._ Good wine, it will beget an appetite:

Fill him, and sit down, Gossip, entertain

Your noble guest here, as becomes your title.

_Die._ Please you to like this Wine Sir?

_Phi._ I dislike

Nothing mine Host, but that I may not see

Your conceal'd guest: here's to you.

_Die._ In good faith Sir;

I wish you as well as him: would you might see him

_Inc._ And wherefore may he not:

_Die._ 'Has lock'd himself Sir

Up, and has hir'd both the beds o' my wife

At extraordinary rate.

_Phil._ I'll give as much

If that will do't, for one, as he for both;

What say you mine Host, the door once open

I'll fling my self upon the next bed to him

And there's an end of me till morning; noise

I will make none

_Die._ I wish your worship well--but

_Inc._ His honor is engag'd: And my she-Gossip

Hath past her promise, hath she not?

_Die._ Yes truly:

_Inc._ That toucheth to the credit of the house:

Well, I will eat a little, and think: how say you Sir

Unto this brawn o'th' Hen?

_Phi._ I ha' more mind

To get this bed Sir.

_Inc._ Say you so: Why then

Giv't me agen, and drink to me: mine Host

Fill him his Wine: thou'rt dull, and dost not praise it,

I eat but to teach you the way Sir.

_Phil._ Sir:

Find but the way to lodge me in this chamber

I'll give mine Host two Duckets for his bed,

And you Sir two _Reals_: here's to you--

_Inc._ Excuse me,

I am not mercenary: Gossip pledge him for me,

I'll think a little more; but ev'n one bit

And then talk on: you cannot interrupt me.

_Die._ This piece of wine Sir, cost me--

_Inc._ Stay: I have found:

This little morsel, and then: here's excellent garlick:

Have you not a bunch of grapes now: or some Bacon

To give the mouth a relish?

_Die._ Wife, do you hear?

_Inc._ It is no matter: Sir give mine Host your Duckets.

_Die._ How Sir?

_Inc._ Do you receive 'em: I will save

The honesty of your house: and yours too Gossip,

And I will lodge the Gentleman: shew the chamber.

_Die._ Good Sir do you hear.

_Inc._ Shew me the chamber.

_Die._ Pray you Sir,

Do not disturb my guests.

_Inc._ Disturb? I hope

The Catholick King Sir, may command a lodging

Without disturbing in his Vassals house,

For any Minister of his, emploid

In business of the State. Where is the door?

Open the door, who are you there? within?

In the Kings name. [Theodosia _within._

_Theo._ What would you have?

_Inc._ Your key Sir,

And your door open: I have here command

To lodge a Gentleman, from the Justice, sent

Upon the Kings affairs.

_Theod._ Kings and necessities

Must be obey'd: the key is under the door.

_Inc._ How now Sir, are you fitted? you secur'd?

_Phi._ Your two Reals are grown a piece of Eight.

_In[c]._ Excuse me Sir.

_Phi._ 'Twill buy a Hen; and Wine

Sir, for to morrow. [_Exit_ Phil.

_Inc._ I do kiss your hands Sir.

Well this will bear my charge yet to the Gallies

Where I am owing a Ducket: whither this night

By the Moons leave I'll march: for in the morning

Early, they put from Port _St. Maries_. [_Ex. all but_ Diego.

_Die. Lazaro._

_Enter_ Lazaro.

How do the horses?

_Laz._ Would you would go and see Sir,

A ---- of all Jades, what a clap h'as given me:

As sure as you live Master he knew perfectly

I couzen'd him on's Oats: he lookt upon me

And then he sneer'd, as who should say, take heed sirrah:

And when he saw our half Peck, which you know

Was but an old Court dish, lord how he stampt:

I thought 't had been for joy, when suddenly

He cuts me a back caper with his heels

And takes me just o'th crupper, down came I,

And all my ounce of Oats: Then he neigh'd out

As though he had had a mare by th' tail.

_Die._ Faith _Lazaro_

We are t[o] blame to use the poor dumb serviters

So cruelly.

_Laz._ Yonder's this other Gentleman's horse

Keeping our Lady Eve: the devil a bit

H'as got since he came in yet: there he stands

And looks, and looks, but 'tis your pleasure, Sir,

He shall look lean enough: h'as Hay before him

But 'tis as big as Hemp, and will as soon choak him,

Unless he eat it butter'd: he had four shooes

And good ones when he came: 'tis a strange wonder

With standing still he should cast three.

_Die._ O _Lazaro_.

The Devil's in this Trade: truth never knew it

And to the devil we shall travel, _Lazaro_

Unless we mend our manners: once every week

I meet with such a knock to mollifie me

Sometimes a dozen to awake my conscience

Yet still I sleep securely.

_Laz._ Certain Master

We must use better dealing.

_Die._ 'Faith for mine own part

Not to give ill example to our issues,

I could be well content to steal but two girths,

And now and then a saddle-cloth: change a bridle

Only for exercise.

_Laz._ If we could stay there

There were some hope on's Master: but the devil is

We are drunk so early we mistake whole Saddles

Sometimes a horse; and then it seems to us too

Every poor jade has his whole peck, and tumbles

Up to his ears in clean straw, and every bottle

Shews at the least a dozen; when the truth is, Sir,

There's no such matter, not a smell of Provinder,

Not so much straw as would tie up a horse tail,

Nor any thing i'th' rack, but two old Cobwebs

And so much rotten Hay as had been a hens nest.

_Die._ Well, these mistakings must be mended, _Lazaro_,

These apparitions, that abuse our sences,

And make us ever apt to sweep the manger

But put in nothing; these fancies must be forgot

And we must pray it may be reveal'd to us

Whose horse we ought, in conscience, to couzen,

And how, and when; A Parsons Horse may suffer

A little greazing in his teeth, 'tis wholsome;

And keeps him in a sober shuffle: and his Saddle

May want a stirrop, and it may be sworn

His Learning lay on one side, and so broke it:

H'as ever Oats in's Cloak-bag to prevent us

And therefore 'tis a meritorious office

To tythe him soundly.

_Laz._ And a Grazier may

(For those are pinching puckfoysts, and suspitious)

Suffer a myst before his eyes sometimes too,

And think he sees his horse eat halfe a bushel:

When the truth is, rubbing his gums with salt,

Till all the skin come off: he shall but mumble

Like an old Woman that were chewing Brawn,

And drop 'em out again.

_Die._ That may do well too,

And no doubt 'tis but venial, But good _Lazaro_

Have you a care of understanding horses,

[Horses with angry heels, gentlemens horses,]

Horses that know the world: let them have meat

Till their teeth ake; and rubbing till their ribs

Shine like a wenches forehead; they are devils.

_Laz._ And look into our dealings: as sure as we live

These Courtiers horses are a kind of _Welsh_ Prophets,

Nothing can be hid from 'em: For mine own part

The next I cozen of that kind shall be founder'd,

And of all four too: I'll no more such complements

Upon my crupper.

_Die._ Steal but a little longer

Till I am lam'd too, and we'll repent together,

It will not be above two daies.

_Laz._ By that time

I shall be well again, and all forgot Sir.

_Die._ Why then I'll stay for thee. [_Exit._

_Scæna Secunda._

_Enter_ Theodosi[a] _and_ Phillipo _on several Beds._

_Theo._ Oh,--ho! oh--ho!

_Phi._ Ha?

_Theo._ Oh--oh! heart--heart--heart--heart?

_Phil._ What's that?

_Theo._ When wilt thou break?--break, break, break?

_Phil._ Ha?

I would the voice were strong, or I nearer.

_Theo._ Shame, shame, eternal shame? what have I done?

_Phil._ Done?

_Theo._ And to no end, what a wild journey

Have I more wildly undertaken?

_Phil._ Journey?

_Theo._ How, without counsel? care? reason, or fear?

_Phil._ Whither will this fit carry?

_Theo._ Oh my folly!

_Phil._ This is no common sickness.

_Theo._ How have I left

All I should love, or keep? oh heaven.

_Phil._ Sir?

_Theo._ Ha?

_Phil._ How do you gentle Sir?

_Theo._ Alas my fortune!

_Phil._ It seems your sorrow oppresses: please your goodness,

Let me bear half, Sir: a divided burthen

Is so made lighter.

_Theo._ Oh!

_Phil._ That sigh betraies

The fulness of your grief.

_Theo._ I, if that grief

Had not bereft me of my understanding,

I should have well remembred where I was,

And in what company; and clapt a lock

Upon this tongue for talking.

_Phil._ Worthy Sir

Let it not add to your grief, that I have heard

A sigh or groan come from you: That is all Sir:

_The._ Good Sir no more: you have heard too much I fear,

Would I had taken Poppy when I spake it.

_Phi._ It seems you have an ill belief of me

And would have fear'd much more, had you spoke ought

I could interpret. But believe it Sir

Had [I] had means to look into your breast,

And tane you sleeping here, that so securely

I might have read all that your woe would hide

I would not have betraid you.

_Theo._ Sir, that speech

Is very noble, and almost would tempt

My need to trust you.

_Phil._ At your own election,

I dare not make my faith so much suspected

As to protest again: nor am I curious

To know more than is fit.

_Theo._ Sir, I will trust you

But you shall promise Sir to keep your bed,

And whatsoe'r you hear, not to importune

More I beseech you from me.

_Phi._ Sir I will not.

_Theo._ Than I am prone to utter.

_Phi._ My faith for it.

_Theo._ If I were wise, I yet should hold my peace.

You will be noble?

_Phil._ You shall make me so

If you'll but think me such.

_Theo._ I do: then know

You are deceiv'd with whom you have talk'd so long.

I am a most unfortunate lost woman.

_Phil._ Ha?

_Theo._ Do not stir Sir: I have here a Sword.

_Phil._ Not I sweet Lady: of what blood, or name.

_Theo._ You'll keep your faith.

_Phil._ I'll perish else.

_Theo._ Believe then

Of birth too noble for me, so descended--I

am asham'd, no less than I am affrighted.

_Phil._ Fear not: by all good things, I will not wrong you.

_Theo._ I am the Daughter of a noble Gentleman

Born in this part of _Spain_: my fathers name Sir:

But why should I abuse that reverence

When a childs duty has forsaken me.

_Phil._ All may be mended, in fit time too: speak it.

_Theo. Alphonso_, sir.

_Phil. Alphonso?_ What's your own name?

_Theo._ Any base thing you can invent.

_Phil._ Deal truly.

_Theo._ They call me _Theodosia_.

_Phil._ Ha? and love

Is that that hath chang'd you thus?

_Theo._ Ye have observ'd me

Too nearly Sir, 'tis that indeed: 'tis love Sir:

And love of him (oh heavens) why should men deal thus?

Why should they use their arts to cozen us?

That have no cunning, but our fears about us?

And ever that too late too; no dissembling

Or double way but doating: too much loving?

Why should they find new oaths, to make more wretches?

_Phil._ What may his name be?

_Theo._ Sir, a name that promises

Methinks no such ill usage: _Mark-Antonio_

A noble neighbors son: Now I must desire ye

To stay a while: else my weak eyes must answer.

_Phil._ I will:--Are ye yet ready? what is his quality?

_Theo._ His best a thief Sir: that he would be known by

Is heir to _Leonardo_, a rich Gentleman:

Next of a handsome body, had heaven made him

A mind fit to it. To this man my fortune,

(My more than purblind fortune) gave my faith,

Drawn to it by as many shews of service

And signs of truth, as ever false tongue utter'd:

Heaven pardon all.

_Phil._ 'Tis well said: forward Lady.

_Theo._ Contracted Sir, and by exchange of rings

Our souls deliver'd: nothing left unfinish'd

But the last work, enjoying me, and Ceremony.

For that I must confess was the first wise doubt

I ever made: yet after all this love Sir,

All this profession of his faith; when daily

And hourly I expected the blest Priest

He left me like a dream, as all this story

Had never been, nor thought of, why, I know not;

Yet I have called my conscience to confession,

And every syllable that might offend

I have had in shrift: yet neither loves Law Signior,

Nor tye of Maidens duty, but desiring

Have I transgrest in: left his father too,

Nor whither he is gone, or why departed

Can any tongue resolve me: All my hope

(Which keeps me yet alive, and would perswade me

I may be once more happy, and thus shapes me

A shame to all my modest Sex) is this Sir,

I have a Brother and his old Companion,

Student in _Salamanca_, there my last hope

If he be yet alive, and can be loving

Is left me to recover him: For which travel

In this Sute left at home of that dear Brothers

Thus as you find me, without fear, or wisdom,

I have wander'd from my Father, fled my friends,

And now am only child of hope and danger:

You are now silent Sir: this tedious story

(That ever keeps me waking) makes you heavy:

'Tis fit it should do so: for that, and I

Can be but troubles.

_Phil._ No, I sleep not Lady:

I would I could: oh heaven is this my comfort?

_Theo._ What ail you gentle Sir?

_Phil._ Oh.

_Theo._ Why do you groan so?

_Phil._ I must, I must; oh misery;

_Theo._ But now Sir,

You were my comfort: if any thing afflict ye

Am not I fit to bear a part on't? and by your own rule?

_Phil._ No; if you could heal, as you have wounded me,

But 'tis not in your power.

_Theo._ I fear intemperance.

_Phil._ Nay, do not seek to shun me: I must see you:

By heaven I must: hoa, there mine Host: a Candle:

Strive not, I will not stir ye.

_Theo._ Noble Sir

This is a breach of promise.

_Phil._ Tender Lady

It shall be none but necessary: hoa, there,

Some light, some light for heavens sake.

_Theo._ Will ye betray me?

Are ye a Gentleman?

_Phil._ Good woman:

_Theo._ Sir.

_Enter_ Diego _with a light._

_Phil._ If I be prejudicial to you, curse me.

_Dieg._ Ye are early stirring Sir.

_Phil._ Give me your Candle

And so good morrow for a while.

_Dieg._ Good morrow Sir. [_Exit._

_Theo._ My Brother Don _Philippo_: nay Sir, kill me

I ask no mercy Sir, for none dare know me,

I can deserve none: As ye look upon me

Behold in infinite these foul dishonors,

My noble Father, then your self, last all

That bear the name of kindred, suffer in me:

I have forgot whose child I am; whose Sister:

Do you forget the pity tied to that:

Let not compassion sway you: you will be then

As foul as I, and bear the same brand with me,

A favourer of my fault: ye have a sword Sir,

And such a cause to kill me in.

_Phil._ Rise Sister,

I wear no sword for Women: nor no anger

While your fair chastity is yet untouch'd.

_Theo._ By those bright Stars, it is Sir.

_Phil._ For my Sister

I do believe ye: and so neer blood has made us

With the dear love I ever bore your virtues

That I will be a Brother to your griefs too:

Be comforted, 'tis no dishonor Sister

To love, nor to love him you do: he is a Gentleman

Of as sweet hopes, as years, as many promises,

As there be growing Truths, and great ones.

_Theo._ O Sir[!]

_Phil._ Do not despair.

_Theo._ Can ye forgive?

_Phil._ Yes Sister,

Though this be no small error, a far greater.

_Theo._ And think me still your Sister?

_Phil._ My dear Sister.

_Theo._ And will you counsel me?

_Phil._ To your own peace too:

Ye shall love still.

_Theo._ How good ye are!

_Phil._ My business,

And duty to my Father: which now drew me

From _Salamanca_ I will lay aside

And only be your Agent to perswade ye

To leave both love, and him, and well retire ye.

_Theo._ Oh gentle Brother.

_Phil._ I perceive 'tis folly:

Delaies in love, more dangerous.

_Theo._ Noble Brother.

_Phil._ Fear not, I'll run your own way: and to help you,

Love havi[n]g rackt your passions beyond counsel:

I'll hazard mine own fame: whither shall we venture?

_Theo._ Alas, I know not Sir!

_Phil._ Come, 'tis bright morning

Let's walk out, and consider: you'll keep this habit.

_Theo._ I would Sir.

_Phil._ Then it shall be: what must I call ye?

Come, do not blush: pray speak, I may spoil all else.

_Theo._ Pray call me _Theodoro_.

_Enter_ Diego.

_Dieg._ Are ye ready?

The day draws on apace: once more good morrow.

_Theo._ Good morrow gentle Host: now I must thank ye:

_Phil._ Who dost thou think this is?

_Die._ Were you a wench Sir,

I think you would know before me.

_Phil._ Mine own Brother.

_Dieg._ By th' Masse your noses are akin: should I then

Have been so barbarous to have parted Brothers?

_Phi._ You knew it then.

_Dieg._ I knew 'twas necessary

You should be both together: Instinct Signior,

Is a great matter in an Host.

_Theo._ I am satisfied.

_Enter_ Pedro.

_Ped._ Is not mine Host up yet?

_Phi._ Who's that?

_Die._ I'll see.

_Phil._ Sister, withdraw your self.

_Ped._ Signior _Philippo_.

_Phil._ Noble Don _Pedro_, where have you been this way?

_Ped._ I came from Port _St. Maries_, whence the Gallies

Put this last tide, and bound for _Barcelona_,

I brought _Mark-antonie_ upon his way.

_Phi. Marc-antonie_?

_Ped._ Who is turn'd Soldier,

And entertain'd in the new Regiment,

For _Naples_.

_Phi._ Is it possible?

_Ped._ I assure you.

_Phi._ And put they in at _Barcelona_?

_Ped._ So

One of the Masters told me.

_Phi._ Which way go you Sir?

_Ped._ Home.

_Phi._ And I for _Sivil_: pray you Sir; say not

That you saw me, if you shall meet the question,

I have some little business.

_Ped._ Were it less Sir.

It shall not become me, to lose the caution:

Shall we breakfast together?

_Phi._ I'll come to you Sir:

Sister you hear this: I believe your fortune

Begins to be propitious to you: we will hire

Mules of mine Host here: if we can, himself

To be our guide, and straight to _Barcelona_,

This was as happy news, as unexpected

Stay you till I rid him away.

_Theo._ I will. [_Exeunt._

_Actus Secundus. Scæna Prima._

_Enter_ Alphonso _and a Servant_.

_Alph._ Knock at the door.

_Ser._ 'Tis open Sir.

_Alph._ That's all one,

Knock when I bid you.

_Ser._ Will not your Worship enter?

_Alph._ Will not you learn more manners Sir, and do that

Your Master bids ye; knock ye knave, or I'll knock

Such a round peal about your pate: I enter

Under his roof, or come to say god save ye

To him, the Son of whose base dealings has undone me?

Knock louder, louder yet: I'll starve, and rot first,

This open air is every mans.

_2 Ser. within._ Come in Sir.

_Enter two Servants._

_Alph._ No, no Sir, I am none of these _Come in Sirs_,

None of those visitants: bid your wise Master

Come out, I have to talk unto him: go Sir.

_2 Ser._ Your worship may be welcome.

_Alph._ Sir, I will not,

I come not to be welcome: good my three Duckets,

My pickell'd sprat a day, and no oil to't,

And once a year a cotten coat, leave prating

And tell your Master I am here.

_2 Ser._ I will Sir.

This is a strange old man. [_Exit._

_Alph._ I welcome to him?

I'll be first welcome to a Pesthouse: Sirrah

Let's have your valour now cas'd up, and quiet

When an occasion calls, 'tis wisdom in ye,

A Servingman's discretion: if you do draw,

_Enter_ Leonardo, _and Don_ Zanchio

_(carried by two Servants in a chair.)_

Draw but according to your entertainment;

Five Nobles worth of fury.

_Leo._ Signior _Alphonso_,

I hope no discontent from my Will given,

Has made ye shun my house: [I ever lov'd ye.]

An credit me amongst my fears 'tis greatest

To minister offences.

_Alph._ O good Signior

I know ye for _Italian_ breed, fair tongu'd,

Spare your Apologies, I care not for 'em,

As little for your love Sir; I can live

Without your knowledge, eat mine own, and sleep

Without dependences, or hopes upon ye.

I come to ask my Daughter.

_Leo._ Gentle Sir.

_Alph._ I am not gentle Sir, nor gentle will be

Till I have justice, my poor child restor'd

Your caper-cutting boy has run away with.

Young Signior smooth-face, he that takes up wenches

With smiles, and sweet behaviors, Songs, and Sonnets,

Your high fed Jennet, that no hedge can hold

They say you bred him for a Stallion.

_Zanch._ Fie Signior, there be times, and terms of honor

To argue these things in, descidements able

To speak ye noble Gentlemen, ways punctual

And to the life of credit, ye are too rugged.

_Alph._ I am too tame Sir.

_Leo._ Will ye hear but reason?

_Alph._ No, I will hear no reason: I come not hither

To be popt off with reason; reason then.

_Zanch._ Why Signior, in all things there must be method,

Ye choak the child of honor else, discretion,

Do you conceive an injury?

_Alph._ What then Sir?

_Zanch._ Then follow it in fair terms, let your sword bite

When time calls, not your tongue.

_Alph._ I know Sir

Both when and what to do without directions,

And where, and how, I come not to be tutor'd,

My cause is no mans but mine own: you Signior,

Will ye restore my Daughter?

_Leo._ Who detains her?

_Alph._ No more of these slight shifts.

_Leo._ Ye urge me Signior

With strange injustice: because my Son has err'd--

_Zanch._ Mark him.

_Leo._ Out of the heat of youth: dos't follow

I must be father of his crimes?

_Alph._ I say still.

Leave off your Rhetorick, and restore my Daughter.

And suddainly: bring in your rebel too,

Mountdragon, he that mounts without commission

That I may see him punished, and severely,

Or by that holy Heaven, I'll fire your house,

And there's my way of honor.

_Zanch._ Pray give me leave

Was not man made the noblest creature?

_Alph._ Well Sir.

_Zanch._ Should not his mind then answer to his making,

And to his mind his actions, if this ought to be,

Why do we run a blind way from our worths,

And cancel our discretions, doing those things

To cure offences, are the most offences?

We have rules of justice in us; to those rules

Let us apply our angers: you can consider

The want in others of these terminations

And how unfurnish'd they appear.

_Alph._ Hang others,

And where the wrongs are open, hang respects,

I come not to consider.

_Leo._ Noble Sir,

Let us argue cooly, and consider like men.

_Alph._ Like men!

_Leo._ Ye are too sudain still.

_Alph._ Like men Sir?

_Zanch._ It is fair language, and ally'd to honor.

_Alph._ Why, what strange beast would your grave reverence

Make me appear? like men!

_Zanch._ Taste but that point Sir,

And ye recover all.

_Alph._ I tell thy wisdom

I am as much a man, and as good a man.

_Leo._ All this is granted Sir.

_Alph._ As wise a man.

_Zanch._ Ye are not tainted that way.

_Alph._ And a man

Dares make thee no man; or at best, a base man.

_Zanch._ Fie, fie, here wants much carriage.

_Alph._ Hang much carriage.

_Leo._ Give me good language.

_Alph._ Sirrah Signior, Give me my Daughter.

_Leo._ I am as gentle as your self, as free born.

_Zanch._ Observe his way.

_Leo._ As much respect ow'd to me.

_Zanch._ This hangs together nobly.

_Leo._ And for Civil,

A great deal more it seems: go look your Daughter.

_Zanch._ There ye went well off Signior.

_Leo._ That rough tongue

You understand at first: you never think Sir

Out of your mightiness, of my loss: here I stand

A patient Anvil, to your burning angers

Made subject to your dangers; yet my loss equal:

Who shall bring home my Son?

_Alph._ A whipping Beadle.

_Leo._ Why, is your Daughter whorish?

_Alph._ Ha, thou dar'st not,

By heaven I know thou dar'st not.

_Leo._ I dare more Sir

If you dare be uncivil.

_Alph._ Laugh too, Pidgeon.

_Zanch._ A [f]itter time for fames sake: two weak Nurses

Would laugh at this; are there no more days coming,

No ground but this to argue on? no swords left

Nor friends to carry this, but your own furies?

Alas! it shows too weakly.

_Alph._ Let it show,

I come not here for shews: laugh at me sirrah?

I'll give ye cause to laugh.

_Leo._ Ye are as like sir

As any man in _Spain_.

_Alph._ By heaven I will,

I will brave _Leonardo_.

_Leo._ Brave _Alphonso_.

I will expect it then.

_Zanch._ Hold ye there both,

These terms are noble.

_Alph._ Ye shall hear shortly from me.

_Zanch._ Now discreetly.

_Alph._ Assure your self ye shall: do ye see this sword sir?

He has not cast his teeth yet.

_Zanch._ Rarely carried.

_Alph._ He bites deep: most times mortal: Signior

I'll hound him at the fair and home.

_Zanch._ Still nobly.

_Alph._ And at all those that dare maintain ye.

_Zanch._ Excellent.

_Leo._ How you shall please sir, so it be fair, though certain,

I had rather give you reason.

_Zanch._ Fairly urg'd too.

_Alph._ This is no age for reason; prick your reason

Upon your swords point.

_Zanch._ Admirably follow'd.

_Alph._ And there I'll hear it: so till I please, live Sir. [_Exit._

_Leo._ And so farewel, you're welcome.

_Zanch._ The end crowns all things

Signior, some little business past, this cause I'll argue

And be a peace between ye, if't so please ye,

And by the square of honor to the utmost:

I feel the old man's master'd by much passion,

And too high rackt, which makes him overshoot all

His valour should direct at, and hurt those

That stand but by as blenchers: this he must know too,

As necessary to his judgement, doting women

Are neither safe nor wise adventurers: conceive me,

If once their will[s] have wander'd; nor is't then

A time to use our rages: for why should I

Bite at the stone, when he that throws it wrongs me?

Do not we know that Women are most wooers

Though closest in their carriage? Do not all men know,

Scarce all the compass of the Globe can hold 'em

If their affections be afoot? shall I then covet

The follies of a she-fool, that by nature

Must seek her like, by reason, be a woman,

Sink a tall ship, because the sails defie me?

No, I disdain that folly; he that ventures

Whilst they are fit to put him on, has found out

The everlasting motion in his scabbard.

I doubt not to make peace: and so for this time

My best love, and remembrance.

_Leo._ Your poor Servant. [_Exeunt._

_Scæna Secunda._

_Enter_ Diego, Philippo, _and_ Theodosia.

_Phil._ Where will our Horses meet us?

_Diego._ Fear not you Sir,

Some half mile hence my worships man will stay us,

How is it with my young bloods? come, be jovial,

Let's travel like a merry flock of wild Geese,

Every tongue talking.

_Phil._ We are very merry;

But do you know this way, Sir?

_Theo._ Is't not dangerous?

Methinks these woody thickets should harbor knaves.

_Die._ I fear none but fair wenches; those are thieves,

May quickly rob me of my good conditions,

If they cry Stand once: but the best is Signiors

They cannot bind my hands: for any else,

They meet an equal knave, and there's my Passport:

I have seen fine sport in this place: had these three tongues,

They would tell ye pretty matters: do not you fear, though

They are not every daies delights.

_Phil._ What sport Sir?

_Die._ Why to say true, the sport of all sports.

_Phil._ What was't?

_Die._ Such turning up of Taffataes; and you know

To what rare whistling tunes they go, far beyond

A soft wind in the shrowds: such stand there,

And down i'th' other place; such supplications

And subdivisions for those toys their honors,

One, as ye are a Ge[n]tleman in this bush,

And oh sweet Sir, what mean ye? there's a bracelet,

And use me I beseech ye like a woman;

And her petition's heard: another scratches,

And cries she will die first, and then swounds: but certain

She is brought to life again, and does well after.

Another, save mine honor, oh mine honor,

My Husband serves the Duke, Sir, in his kitchen;

I have a cold pie for ye; fie, fie, fie Gentlemen,

Will nothing satisfie, where's my Husband?

Another cries, do ye see Sir how they use me,

Is there no Law for these things?

_Theo._ And good mine Host,

Do you call these fine sports?

_Die._ What should I call 'em,

They have been so call'd these thousand years and upwards.

_Phil._ But what becomes o'th' men?

_Die._ They're stript and bound,

Like so many _Adams_, with fig-leaves afore 'em,

And there's their innocence.

_Theo._ Would we had known this!

Before we reacht this place.

_Phil._ Come, there's no danger,

These are but sometimes chances.

_Enter Bailiff._

_Host._ Now we must through.

_Theo._ Who's that?

_Host._ Stand to it Signiors.

_Phil._ No it needs not,

I know the face; 'tis honest.

_Bayl._ What mine Host:

Mine everlasting honest Host.

_Host._ Mass Baily:

Now in the name of an ill reckoning

What make you walking this round?

_Bayl._ A ---- of this round,

And of all business too, through woods, and rascals,

They have rounded me away a dozen Duckets,

Besides a fair round Cloak: Some of 'em knew me,

Else they had cased me like a Cunnie too,

As they have done the rest, and I think roasted me,

For they began to baste me soundly: my young Signiors,

You may thank heaven, and heartily, and hourly,

You set not out so early; ye had been smoak'd else

By this true hand [y]e had Sirs, finely smoak'd,

Had ye been Women, smockt too.

_Theo._ Heaven defend us.

_Bayl._ Nay, that had been no prayer, there were those

That run that prayer out of breath, yet fail'd too.

There was a Fryer, now ye talk of prayer,

With a huge bunch of Beads, like a rope of Onions:

I am sure as big, that out of fear and prayer,

In halfe an hour, wore 'em as small as Bugles,

Yet he was flead too.

_Phil._ At what hour was this?

_Bayl._ Some two hours since.

_Theo._ Do you think the passage sure now.

_Bayl._ Yes, a rope take 'em, as it will, and bless 'em,

They have done for this day sure.

_Phil._ Are many rifled?

_Bayl._ At the least a dozen,

And there left bound.

_Theo._ How came you free?

_Bayl._ A curtesie

They use out of their rogueships, to bequeath

To one, that when they give a sign from far

Which is from out of danger; he may presently

Release the rest, as I met you, I was going,

Having the sign from yonder hill to do it.

_Theo._ Alas poor men.

_Phil._ Mine Host, pray go untie 'em.

_Die._ Let me alone for cancelling: where are they?

_Bayl._ In every bush, like black birds, you cannot miss 'em.

_Die._ I need not stalk unto 'em. [_Exit._

_Bayl._ No, they'l stand ye,

My busie life for yours Sir: you would wonder

To see the several tricks and strange behaviours

Of the poor rascals in their miseries,

One weeps, another laughs at him for weeping,

A third is monstrous angry, he can laugh

And cries, go too, this is no time; he laughs still,

A fourth exhorts to patience: him a fifth man

Curses for tameness; him a Fryer schools,

All hoot the Fryer, here one sings a Ballad,

And there a little Curate confutes him,

And in this linsey-woolsey way, that would make a dog

Forget his dinner, or an old man fire,

They rub out for their ransoms: Amongst the rest,

There is a little boy rob'd, a fine child,

It seems a Page: I must confess my pitty

(As 'tis a hard thing in a man of my place)

To shew compassion, stirr'd at him, so finely

And without noise he carries his afflictions,

And looks as if he had but dreamt of losing.

_Enter Host and_ Leocadia, _and others as rob'd._

This boy's the glory of this robbery,

The rest but shame the action: now ye may hear 'em.

_Host._ Come lads, 'tis Holy-day: hang cloaths, 'tis hot,

And sweating Agues are abroad.

_1._ It seems so;

For we have met with rare Physitians

To cure us of that malady.

_Host._ Fine footing,

Light and deliver: now my boys: Master Fryer,

How does your Holiness, bear up man; what

A cup of neat Sack now and a toast: ha, Fryer,

A warm plaister to your belly Father,

There were a blessing now.

_Fryer._ Ye say your mind Sir.

_Host._ Where my fine Boy: my poynter.

_Bayl._ There's the wonder.

_Host._ A rank whore scratch their sides till the pox follow

For robbing thee, thou hast a thousand ways

To rob thy self boy, Dice, and a Chamber-Devil.

_Leo._ Ye are deceiv'd Sir.

_Host._ And thy Master too boy.

_Phil._ A sweet-fac'd boy indeed: what rogues were these?

What barbarous, brutish slaves to strip this beauty?

_Theo._ Come hither my boy: alas! he's cold, mine Host,

We must intreat your Cloak.

_Host._ Can ye intreat it.

_Phil._ We do presume so much, you have other garments.

_Host._ Will you intreat those too?

_Theo._ Your Mule must too,

To the next Town, you say 'tis near: in pitty

You cannot see this poor Boy perish.

I know ye have a better soul, we'll satisfie ye.

_Host._ 'Tis a strange foolish trick I have, but I cannot help it,

I am ever cozen'd with mine own commendations;

It is determin'd then I shall be robb'd too.

To make up vantage to this dozen: here Sir,

Heaven has provided ye a simple garment

To set ye off: pray keep it handsomer

Than you kept your own; and let me have it render'd,

Brush'd and discreetly folded.

_Leo._ I thank ye Sir.

_Host._ Who wants a Doublet?

_2._ I.

_Host._ Where will you have it?

_2._ From you Sir, if you please.

_Host._ Oh, there's the point, Sir.

_Phil._ My honest friends, I am sorry for your fortunes,

But that's but poor relief: here are ten Duckets,

And to your distribution, holy Sir,

I render 'em: and let it be your care

To see 'em, as your wants are, well divided.

_Host._ Plain dealing now my friends: and Father Fryer,

Set me the Sadle right; no wringing Fryer,

Nor tithing to the Church, these are no duties;

Scour me your conscience, if the Devil tempt ye

Off with [y]our cord, and swinge him.

_Fry._ Ye say well Sir.

_All._ Heaven keep your goodness.

_Theo._ Peace keep you, farewel friends.

_Host._ Farewel light-Horse-men. [_Ex. the rob'd._

_Phil._ Which way travel you Sir.

_Bayl._ To the next Town.

_Theo._ Do you want any thing.

_Bayl._ Only discretion to travel at good hours,

And some warm meat to moderate this matter,

For I am most outragious cruel hungry.

_Host._ I have a stomach too such as it is.

Would pose a right good pasty, I thank heaven for't.

_Bayl._ Cheese, that would break the teeth of a new handsaw,

I could endure now like an Oastrich, or salt beef,

That _Cesar_ left in pickel.

_Phil._ Take no care,

We'll have meat for you, and enough: I'th' mean time

Keep you the horse way, lest the fellow miss us,

We'll meet ye at the end o'th' wood.

_Host._ Make haste then. [_Ex. Host and Bayl._

_Theo._ My pretty Sir till your necessities

Be full supplied, so please you trust our friendships,

We must not part.

_Leo._ Ye have pull'd a charge upon ye,

Yet such a one as ever shall be thankful.

_Phil._ Ye have said enough, may I be bold to ask ye,

What Province you were bred in? and of what Parents?

_Leo._ Ye may Sir: I was born in _Andaluzia_,

My name _Francisc[o]_, son to Don _Henriques_

_De Cardinas_.

_Theo._ Our noble neighbor.

_Phil._ Son to Don _Henriques_?

I know the Gentleman: and by your leave Sir,

I know he has no son.

_Leo._ None of his own Sir,

Which makes him put that right upon his Brother

Don _Zanchio_'s child[ren]: one of which I am,

And therefore do not much err.

_Phil._ Still ye do Sir,

For neither has Don _Zanchio_ any son;

A Daughter, and a rare one is his heir,

Which though I [n]ever was so blest to see,

Yet I have heard great good of.

_Theo._ Urge no further,

He is ashamed, and blushes.

_Phil._ Sir,

If it might import you to conceal your self,

I ask your mercy, I have been so curious:

_Leo._ Alas! I must ask yours Sir: for these lies,

Yet they were useful ones; for by the claiming

Such noble parents, I believ'd your bounties

Would shew more gracious: The plain truth is Gentlemen,

I am Don _Zanchio_'s Stewards son, a wild boy,

That for the fruits of his unhappiness,

Is faign to seek the wars.

_Theo._ This is a lie too.

If I have any ears.

_Phil._ Why?

_Theo._ Mark his language,

And ye shall find it of too sweet a relish

For one of such a breed: I'll pawn my hand,

This is no boy.

_Phil._ No boy? what would you have him?

_Theo._ I know, no boy: I watcht how fearfully,

And yet how suddainly he cur'd his lies,

The right wit of a Woman: Now I am sure.

_Phil._ What are ye sure?

_Theo._ That 'tis no boy: I'll burn in't.

_Phil._ Now I consider better, and take council,

Methinks he shows more sweetness in that face,

Than his fears dare deliver.

_Theo._ No more talk on't,

There hangs some great weight by it: soon at night

I'll tell ye more.

_Phil._ Come Sir, what e'r you are

With us, embrace your liberty, and our helps

In any need you have.

_Leo._ All my poor service

Shall be at your command Sir, and my prayers.

_Phil._ Let's walk apace; hunger will cut their throats else.

[_Exeunt._

_Scæna Tertia._

_Enter_ Rodorigo, Mark-antonio, _and a Ship-master,_

_two Chairs set out._

_Rod._ Call up the Master.

_Mast._ Here Sir.

_Rod._ Honest Master,

Give order all the Gallies with this tyde

Fall round, and near upon us; that the next wind

We may weigh off together, and recover

The Port of _Bar[c]elona_, without parting.

_Mast._ Your pleasure's done Sir. [_Ex._

_Rod._ Signior Mark-antonio,

Till meat be ready, let's sit here and prepare

Our stomachs with discourses.

_Mar[c]._ What you please Sir.

_Rod._ Pray ye answer me to this doubt.

_Marc._ If I can Sir.

_Rod._ Why should such plants as you are; pleasure children,

That owe their blushing years to gentle objects,

Tenderly bred, and brought up in all fulness,

Desire the stubborn wars?

_Marc._ In those 'tis wonder,

That make their ease their god, and not their honor:

But noble General my end is other,

Desire of knowledge Sir, and hope of tying

Discretion to my time, which only shews me,

And not my years, a man, and makes that more

Which we call handsome, the rest is but Boys beauty,

And with the Boy consum'd.

_Rod._ Ye argue well Sir.

_Mar._ Nor do I wear my youth, as they wear breeches,

For object, but for use: my strength for danger,

Which is the liberal part of man, not dalliance,

The wars must be my Mistress Sir.

_Rod._ Oh Signior,

You'll find her a rough wench.

_Mar._ When she is won once,

She'll show the sweeter Sir.

_Rod._ You can be pleas'd, though

Sometimes to take a tamer?

_Mar._ 'Tis a truth Sir,

So she be handsome, and not ill condition'd.

_Rod._ A Soldier should not be so curious.

_Marc._ I can make shift with any for a heat Sir.

_Rod._ Nay, there you wrong your youth too: and however

You are pleas'd to appear to me, which shews well Signior,

A tougher soul than your few years can testifie:

Yet, my young Sir, out of mine own experience

When my spring was, I am able to confute ye,

And say, y' had rather come to th' shock of eies,

And boldly march up to your Mistriss mouth,

Then to the Cannons.

_Mar._ That's as their lading is Sir.

_Rod._ There be Trenches

Fitter and warmer for your years, and safer

Than where the bullet plaies.

_Mar._ Ther's it I doubt Sir.

_Rod._ You'll easily find that faith: But come, be liberal,

What kind of Woman, could you make best wars with?

_Mar._ They are all but heavy marches.

_Rod._ Fie Marckantonio,

Beauty in no more reverence?

_Mar._ In the Sex Sir,

I honor it, and next to honor, love it,

For there is only beauty; and that sweetness

That was first meant for modesty: sever it

And put it in one woman, it appears not,

'Tis of too rare a nature, she too gross

To mingle with it.

_Rod._ This is a meer heresie.

_Mar[c]._ Which makes 'em ever mending; for that gloss

That cozens us for beauty, is but bravery,

An outward shew of things well set, no more:

For heavenly beauty, is as heaven it self Sir,

Too excellent for object, and what is seen

Is but the vail then, airy clouds; grant this

It may be seen, 'tis but like stars in twinklings.

_Rod._ 'Twas no small study in their Libraries

Brought you to this experience: But what think ye

Of that fair red and white, which we call Beauty?

_Mar._ Why? 'tis our creature Sir, we give it 'em,

Because we like those colours, else 'tis certain

A blew face with a motley nose would do it;

And be as great a beauty, so we lov'd it;

That we cannot give, which is only beauty,

Is a fair Mind.

_Rod._ By this rule, all our choices

Are to no ends.

_Marc._ Except the dull end, Doing.

_Rod._ Then all to you seem equal?

_Marc._ Very true Sir,

And that makes equal dealing: I love any

That's worth love.

_Rod._ How long love ye Signior?

_Marc._ Till I have other business.

_Rod._ Do you never

Love stedfastly one woman?

_Mar._ 'Tis a toil Sir

Like riding in one rode perpetually,

It offers no variety.

_Rod._ Right youth,

He must needs make a Soldier; nor do you think

One Woman, can love one man?

_Mar._ Yes, that may be.

Though it appear not often; they are things ignorant,

And therefore apted to that superstition

Of doting fondness; yet of late years Signior,

That worlds well mended with 'em, fewer are found now

That love at len[g]th, and to the right mark, all

Stir now [as] the time stirs; fame and fashion

Are ends they aim at now, and to make that love

That wiser ages held ambition;

They that cannot reach this may love by Index;

By every days surveying who best promises,

Who has done best, who may do, and who mended

May come to do again: who appear nearest

Either in new stampt clothes; or courtesies,

Done but from hand to mouth neither; nor love they these things

Longer than new are making, nor that succession

Beyond the next fair feather: Take the City,

There they go to't by gold weight, no gain from 'em

All they can work by fire and water to 'em,

Profit is all they point at, if there be love

'Tis shew'd ye by so dark a light, to bear out

The bracks and old stains in it, that ye may purchase

_French_ Velvet better cheap, all loves are endless.

_Rod._ Faith, if you have a Mistriss, would she heard you.

_Mar._ 'Twere but the vent'ring of my place, or swearing

I meant it but for argument, as Schoolmen

Dispute high questions.

_Rod._ What a world is this

When young men dare determine what those are

Age and the best experience ne'r could aim at.

_Marc._ They were thick ey'd then Sir; now the print is bigger

And they may read their fortunes without spectacles.

_Rod._ Did you ne'r love?

_Mar._ Faith yes, once after supper,

And the fit held till midnight.

_Rod._ Hot, or shaking.

_Mar._ To say true, both.

_Rod._ How did ye rid it?

_Mar._ Thus Sir,

I laid my hand upon my heart, and blest me

And then said over certain charms I had learn'd

Against mad dogs, for love and they are all one;

Last thought upon a windmil, and so slept,

And was well ever after.

_Rod._ A rare Physitian,

What would your practise gain ye?

_Mar._ The wars ended,

I mean to use my Art, and have these fools

Cut in the head like Cats, to save the kingdom,

Another Inquisition.

_Rod._ So old a Soldier

Out of the wars, I never knew yet practised.

_Mar._ I shall mend every day; but noble General,

Believe this, but as this you nam'd discourses.

_Rod._ Oh ye are a cunning Gamester.

_Mar._ Mirths and toys

To cosin time withal, for o' my troth Sir,

I can love; I think, well too; well enough

And think as well of women as they are,

Pretty fantastick things, some more regardful,

And some few worth a service: I am so honest,

I wish 'em all in heaven, and you know how hard Sir

'Twill be to get in there with their great farthingals.

_Rod._ Well _Mark-antonio_, I would not loose thy company

For the best Galley I command.

_Marc._ Faith General,

If these discourses please ye, I shall fit ye

Once every day. [_Knock within._

_Rod._ Thou canst not please me better: hark, they call

Below to dinner: ye are my Cabbin guest,

My bosom's, so you please Sir.

_Marc._ Your poor Servant. [_Exeunt._

_Scæna Quarta._

_Enter second Host, and his Wife._

_Host._ Let 'em have meat enough Woman, half a Hen;

There be old rotten Pilchards, put 'em off too,

'Tis but a little new anointing of 'em.

And a strong onion, that confounds the stink.

_Host[ess]._ They call for more Sir.

_Host._ Knock a dozen eggs down,

But then beware your wenches.

_Host[ess]._ More than this too?

_Host._ Worts, worts, and make 'em porridge: pop 'em up wench

But they shall pay for Cullyses.

_Host[ess]._ All this is nothing;

They call for Kid and Partridge.

_Host._ Well remembred,

Where's the Faulconers half dog he left?

_Host[ess]._ It stinks Sir,

Past all hope that way.

_Host._ Run it o'r with Garlick,

And make a _Roman_ dish on't.

_Host[ess]._ Pray ye be patient,

And get provision in; these are fine gentlemen,

And liberal gentlemen; they have _unde quare_

No mangey Muleters, nor pinching Posts,

That feed upon the parings of Musk-millions

And Radishes, as big and tough as Rafters:

Will ye be stirring in this business? here's your brother,

Mine old Host of _Ossuna_, as wise as you are,

That is, as knavish; if ye put a trick,

Take heed he do not find it.

_Host._ I'll be wagging.

_Host[ess]._ 'Tis for your own commodity: why wenches:

[_Serv._] Anon forsooth. [_within._

_Hostess._ Who makes a fire there? and who gets in water?

Let _Oliver_ goe to the Justice, and beseech his Worship

We may have two spits going; and do you hear _Druce_,

Let him invite his Worship, and his Wives Worship,

To the left-Meat to morrow.

_Enter Bayliff._

_Bayl._ Where's this Kitchen?

_Hostess._ Even at the next door Signior: what old Don?

We meet but seldom.

_Bayl._ Prethee be patient Hostess,

And tell me where the meat is.

_Host[ess]._ Faith Master Baylie,

How have ye done? and how man?

_Bayl._ Good sweet Hostess,

What shall we have to dinner?

_Hostess._ How does your woman,

And a fine Woman she is, and a good Woman;

Lord, how you bear your years!

_Bayl._ Is't Veal or Mutton,

Beef, Bacon, Pork, Kid, Pheasant, or all these,

And are they ready all?

_Host[ess]._ The hours that have been

Between us two, the merry hours: Lord!

_Bayl._ Hostess,

Dear Hostess do but hear; I am hungry.

_Hostess._ Ye are merrily dispos'd Sir.

_Bayl._ Monstrous hungry,

And hungry after much meat, I have brought hither

Right worshipful to pay the reckoning,

Money enough too with 'em, desire enough

To have the best meat, and of that enough too:

Come to the point sweet wench, and so I kiss thee.

_Hostess._ Ye shall have any thing, and instantly

E'r you can lick your ears, Sir.

_Bayl._ Portly meat,

Bearing substantial stuff, and fit for hunger

I do beseech ye Hostess first, then some light garnish,

Two Pheasants in a dish, if ye have Leverits,

Rather for way of ornament, than appetite

They may be look'd upon, or Larks: for Fish,

As there is no great need, so I would not wish ye

To serve above four dishes, but those full ones;

Ye have no Cheese of _Parma_?

_Hostess._ Very old Sir.

_Bayl._ The less will serve us, some ten pound.

_Hostess._ Alas Sir,

We have not halfe these dainties.

_Bayl._ Peace good Hostess,

And make us hope ye have.

_Hostess._ Ye shall have all Sir,

_Bay._ That may be got for money.

_Enter_ Diego, _the Host, and a Boy_.

_Host. Diego._ Where's your Master?

Bring me your Master, Boy: I must have liquor

Fit for the _Mermydons_; no dashing now child

No conjurings by candle light, I know all;

Strike me the oldest Sack, a piece that carries

Point blank to this place boy, and batters; Hostess,

I kiss thy hands through which many a round reckoning

And things of moment have had motion.

_Hostess._ Still mine old Brother.

_Host. Die._ Set thy Seller open,

For I must enter, and advance my Colours,

I have brought th[ee] Dons indeed wench, Dons with Duckets

And those Dons must have dainty Wine, pure _Bacchus_

That bleeds the life blood: what is your cure ended?

_Bayl._ We shall have Meat man.

_Host. Die._ Then we will have Wine man,

And Wine upon Wine, cut and drawn with Wine.

_Hostess._ Ye shall have all, and more than all.

_Bay._ All, well then.

_Host. Die._ Away, about your business, you with her

For old acquaintance sake, to stay

your stomach. _Exit Hostess and Bayliff._

And Boy, be you my guide, _ad inferos_,

For I will make a full descent in equipage.

_Boy._ I'll shew you rare Wine.

_Host. Die._ Stinging geer.

_Boy._ Divine Sir.

_Host. Die._ O divine boy, march, march my child, rare Wine boy.

_Boy._ As any is in _Spain_ Sir.

_Host. Die._ Old; and strong too,

Oh my fine boy, clear too?

_Boy._ As Christal Sir, and strong as truth.

_Host. Die._ Away boy,

I am enamor'd, and I long for Dalliance,

Stay no where child, not for thy fathers blessing,

I charge thee not to save thy Sisters honor,

Nor to close thy Dames eies, were she a dying

Till we arrive, and for thy recompence

I will remember thee in my Will.

_Boy._ Ye have said Sir. [_Exeunt._

_Actus Tertius. Scæna Prima._

_Enter_ Philippo, _and 2 Host_.

_Phi._ Mine Host, is that Apparel got ye spoke of?

Ye shall have ready money.

_2 Host._ 'Tis come in, Sir, he has it on Sir

And I think 'twill be fit, and o' my credit

'Twas never worn but once Sir, and for necessity

Pawn'd to the man I told ye of.

_Phi._ Pray bargain for it,

And I will be the pay-master.

_2 Host._ I will Sir.

_Phi._ And let our meat be ready when you please,

I mean as soon.

_2 Host._ It shall be presently.

_Phi._ How far stands _Barcelona_?

_2 Host._ But two Leagues off Sir,

You may be there by three a clock.

_Phi._ I am glad on't. [_Exeunt._

_Scæna Secunda._

_Enter_ Theodosia, _and_ Leocadia.

_Theo._ Signior _Francisco_, why I draw you hither

To this remote place, marvel not, for trust me

My innocence yet never knew ill dealing,

And as ye have a noble temper, start not

Into offence, at any thing my knowledge,

And for your special good, would be inform'd of,

Nor think me vainly curious.

_Leo._ Worthy Sir,

The courtesies you and your noble Brother,

Even then when few men find the way to do 'em,

I mean in want, so freely showr'd upon me,

So truly, and so timely minister'd,

Must, if I should, suspect those minds that made 'em,

Either proclaim me an unworthy taker,

Or worse, a base beleever; Speek your mind Sir

Freely, and what you please, I am your Servant.

_The._ Then my young Sir know, since our first acquaintance

Induc'd by circumstances that deceive not

To clear some doubts I have; nay blush not Signior,

I have beheld ye narrowly: more blushes.

Sir, ye give me so much light, I find ye

A thing confest already: yet more blushes?

You would ill cover an offence might sink ye

That cannot hide your self; why do ye shake so?

I mean no trouble to ye; this fair hand

Was never made for hardness, nor those eies

(Come do not hide 'em,) for rough objects, harke ye,

Ye have betraid your self, that sigh confirms me;

Another? and a third too? then I see

These boys cloths do but pinch ye, come, be liberal,

Ye have found a friend that has found you, disguise not

That loaden soul that labors to be open:

Now you must weep, I know it, for I see

Your eies down laden to the lids, another

Manifest token that my doubts are perfect;

Yet I have found a greater; tell me this

Why were these holes left open, there was an error,

A foul one my _Francisco_, have I caught ye?

Oh pretty Sir, the custom of our Countrey

Allows men none in this place: Now the show'r comes.

_Leo._ Oh Signior _Theodoro_.

_Theo._ This sorrow shows so sweetly

I cannot choose but keep it company:

Take truce and speak Sir: and I charge your goodness

By all those perfect hopes that point at virtue

By that remembrance these fair tears are shed for,

If any sad misfortune have thus form'd ye,

That either care or counsel may redeem,

Pain, purse, or any thing within the power

And honor of free gentlemen, reveal it,

And have our labors.

_Leo._ I have found ye noble

And ye shall find me true; your doubts are certain,

Nor dare I more dissemble; I am a woman,

The great example of a wretched woman.

Here you must give me leave to shew my sex;

And now to make ye know how much your credit

Has won upon my soul, so it please your patience,

I'll tell you my unfortunate sad story.

_Theo._ Sit down and say on Lady:

_Leo._ I am born Sir

Of good and honest parents, rich, and noble,

And not to lie, the Daughter of Don _Zanchio_,

If my unhappy fortune have not lost me:

My name call'd _Leocadia_, even the same

Your worthy brother did the special honor

To name for beautiful; and without pride

I have been often made believe so Signior;

But that's impertinent: Now to my sorrows;

Not far from us a Gentleman of worth,

A neighbor and a noble visitor,

Had his abode; who often met my Father

In gentle sports of Chase, and River-Hawking

In Course and Riding; and with him often brought

A Son of his, a young and hopeful Gentleman,

Nobly train'd up, in years fit for affection,

A sprightly man, of understanding excellent,

Of speech and civil 'haviour, no less powerful;

And of all parts, else my eies lied, abundant:

We grew acquainted, and from that acquaintance

Nearer into affection; from affection

Into belief.

_Theo._ Well.

_Leo._ Then we durst kiss.

_Theo._ Go forward.

_Leo._ But oh, man, [man,] unconstant, careless man,

Oh subtle man, how many are thy mischiefs;

Oh _Mark-antonio_, I may curse those kisses.

_Theo._ What did you call him Lady?

_Leo. Mark-antonio_

The name to me of misery.

_Theo._ Pray foreward.

_Leo._ From these we bred desires sir; but lose me heaven

If mine were lustful.

_Theo._ I believe.

_L[e]o._ This nearness

Made him importunate; When to save mine honor

Love having full possession of my powers,

I got a Contract from him.

_Theo._ Sealed?

_Leo._ And sworn too;

Which since, for some offence heaven laid upon me,

I lost among my monies in the robbery,

The loss that makes me poorest: this won from him

Fool that I was, and too too credulous,

I pointed him a by-way to my chamber

The next night at an hour.

_Theo._ Pray stay there Lady;

And when the night came, came he, kept he touch with ye?

Be not so shamefac'd; had ye both your wishes?

Tell me, and tell me true, did he enjoy ye,

Were ye in one anothers arms abed? the Contract

Confirm'd in full joys there? did he lie with ye?

Answer to that; ha? did your father know this,

The good old man, or kindred privy to't?

And had ye their consents? did that nights promise

Make ye a Mother?

_Leo._ Why do you ask so nearly?

Good Sir, do's it concern you any thing?

_Theo._ No Lady.

Only the pitty why you should be used so

A little stirs me, but did he keep his promise?

_Leo._ No, no Signior,

Alas he never came, nor never meant it,

My Love was fool'd, time numbred to no end,

My expectation flouted, and ghesse you Sir,

What dor unto a doating Maid this was,

What a base breaking off!

_Theo._ All's well then Lady;

Go forward in your Story.

_Leo._ Not only fail'd Sir

Which is a curse in Love, and may he find it

When his affections are full-wing'd, and ready

To stoop upon the quarry, then when all

His full hopes are in's arms: not only thus Sir

But more injurious, faithless, treacherous,

Within two daies fame gave him far remov'd

With a new love, which much against my conscience

But more against my cause, which is my hell

I must confess a fair one, a right fair one,

Indeed of admirable sweetness, Daughter

Unto another of our noble neighbors

The thief call'd _Theodosia_; whose perfections

I am bound to ban for ever, curse to wrinckles,

As heaven I hope will make 'em soon; and aches;

For they have rob'd me poor unhappy wench

Of all, of all Sir, all that was my glory

And left me nothing but these tears, and travel:

Upon this certain news, I quit my Father

And if you be not milder in construction

I fear mine honour too: and like a Page

Stole to _Ossuna_, from that place to _Sivil_,

From thence to _Barcelona_ I was travelling

When you o'er-took my misery, in hope to hear of

Gallies bound up for Italy; for never

Will I leave off the search of this bad man

This filcher of affections, this love-Pedler,

Nor shall my curses cease to blast her beauties

And make her name as w[a]ndring as her nature

Till standing face to face before their lusts

I call heavens justice down.

_Theo._ This shows too angry

Nor can it be her fault she is belov'd,

If I give meat, must they that eat it surfeit?

_Leoc._ She loves again Sir, there's the mischief of it

And in despight of me to drown my blessings

Which she shall dearly know.

_Theo._ Ye are too violent.

_Leoc._ She has Devils in her eyes, to whose devotion

He offers all his service.

_Theo._ Who can say

But she may be forsaken too? he that once wanders

From such a perfect sweetness, as you promise

Has he not still the same rule to deceive?

_Leoc._ No, no they are together, love together

Past all deceipt of that side; sleep together,

Live, and delight together, and such deceipt

Give me in a wild desert.

_Theo._ By your leave Lady

I see no honour in this cunning.

_Leoc._ Honour?

True, none of her part, honour, she deserves none,

'Tis ceas'd with wandring Ladies such as she is,

So bold and impudent.

_Theo._ I could be angry

Extreamly angry now beyond my nature

And 'twere not for my pitty: what a man

Is this to do these wrongs: believe me Lady

I know the maid, and know she is not with him.

_Leoc._ I would you knew she were in heaven.

_Theo._ And so well know her

That I think you are cozen'd.

_Leoc._ So I say Sir.

_Theo._ I mean in her behaviour

For trust my faith so much I dare adventure for her credit

She never yet delighted to do wrong.

_Leoc._ How can she then delight in him? dare she think?

Be what she will, as excellent as Angels

My love so fond, my wishes so indulgent

That I must take her prewnings; sto[o]p at that

She has tyr'd upon; No Sir, I hold my beauty

Wash but these sorrows from it, of a sparkle

As right and rich as hers, my means as equal,

My youth as much unblown; and for our worths

And weight of virtue--

_Theo._ Do not task her so far.

_Leo._ By heaven she is cork, and clouds, light, light Sir, vapor

But I shall find her out, with all her witchcrafts,

Her paintings, and her powncings: for 'tis art

And only art preserves her, and meer spels

That work upon his powers; let her but shew me

A ruin'd cheek like mine, that holds his colour

And writes but sixteen years in spight of sorrows

An unbathed body, smiles, that give but shaddows,

And wrinkle not the face; besides she is little,

A demy dame, that makes no object.

_Theo._ Nay.

Then I must say you err; for credit me

I think she is taller than your self.

_Leoc._ Why let her

It is not that shall mate me; I but ask

My hands may reach unto her.

_Theo._ Gentle Lady

'Tis now ill time of farther argument,

For I perceive your anger voyd of counsel,

Which I could wish more temperate.

_Leoc._ Pray forgive me

If I have spoken uncivilly: they that look on

See more than we that play: and I beseech ye

Impute it loves offence, not mine; whose torments,

If you have ever lov'd, and found my crosses

You must confess are seldom ty'd to patience,

Yet I could wish I had said less.

_Theo._ No harm then;

Ye have made a full amends; our company

You may command, so please you in your travels

With all our faith and furtherance; let it be so.

_Leoc._ Ye make too great an offer.

_Theo._ Then it shall be.

Go in and rest your self, our wholsome dyet

Will be made ready straight: But heark ye Lady

One thing I must entreat, your leave, and sufferance

That these things may be open to my Brother

For more respect and honor.

_Leoc._ Do your pleasure.

_Theo._ And do not change this habit by no means

Unless ye change your self.

_Leoc._ Which must not yet be.

_Theo._ It carries ye concealed and safe.

_Leoc._ I am counsell'd. [_Exit._

_Enter_ Philippo.

_Phil._ What's done?

_Theo._ Why all we doubted; 'tis a woman,

And of a noble strain too, ghess.

_Phil._ I cannot.

_Theo._ You have heard often of her.

_Phil._ Stay I think not.

_Theo._ Indeed ye have; 'tis the fair _Leocadia_

Daughter unto Don _Zanchio_, our noble neighbor.

_Phil._ Nay?

_Theo._ 'Tis she Sir, o' my credit.

_Phil. Leocadia_,

Pish _Leocadia_, it must not be.

_Theo._ It must be, or be nothing.

_Phil._ Pray give me leave to wonder, _Leocadia_?

_Theo._ The very same.

_Phil._ The Damsel _Leocadia_

I ghest it was a woman, and a fair one

I see it through her shape, transparent plain

But that it should be she; tell me directly.

_Theo._ By heavens 'tis she.

_Phil._ By heaven then 'tis a sweet one.

_Theo._ That's granted too.

_Phil._ But heark ye, heark ye Sister,

How came she thus disguis'd?

_Theo._ I'll tell you that too

As I came on the self-same ground, so us'd too.

_Phil._ By the same man?

_Theo._ The same too.

_Phil._ As I live

You lovers have fine fancies,

Wonderous fine ones.

_Theo._ Pray heaven you never make one.

_Phil._ Faith I know not,

But in that mind I am, I had rather cobble,

'Tis a more Christian Trade; pray tell me one thing

Are not you two now monstrous jealous

Of one another?

_Theo._ She is much of me

And has rayl'd at me most unmercifully

And to my face, and o' my conscience

Had she but known me, either she or I

Or both, had parted with strange faces

She was in such a fury.

_Phil. Leocadia?_

Do's she speak handsomly?

_Theo._ Wondrous well Sir

And all she do's becomes her, even her anger.

_Phil._ How seemed she when you found her?

_Theo._ Had you seen

How sweetly fearful her pretty self

Betray'd her self, how neat her sorrow show'd,

And in what handsome phrase she put her story,

And as occasion stirr'd her how she started

Though roughly, yet most aptly into anger

You would have wonder'd.

_Phil._ Do's she know ye?

_Theo._ No,

Nor must not by no means.

_Phil._ How stands your difference?

_Theo._ I'll tell ye that some fitter time, but trust me

My _Mark-antonio_ has too much to answer.

_Phil._ May I take knowledge of her?

_Theo._ Yes she is willing.

_Phil._ Pray use her as she is, with all respects then,

For she is a woman of a noble breeding.

_Theo._ Ye shall not find me wanting.

_Phil._ Which way bears she?

_Theo._ Our way, and to our end.

_Phil._ I am glad on't; hark ye,

She keeps her shape? [_Enter_ Leocadia.

_Theo._ Yes, and I think by this time

Has mew'd her old.

_Phil._ She is here: by heaven a rare one,

An admirable sweet one, what an eye

Of what a full command she bears, how gracious

All her aspect shows; bless me from a feaver

I am not well o'th suddain.

_Leoc._ Noble friends

Your meat and all my service waits upon ye.

_Phil._ Ye teach us manners Lady; all which service

Must now be mine to you, and all too poor too;

Blush not, we know ye, for by all our faiths

With us your honor is in sanctuary

And ever shall be.

_Leoc._ I do well believe it,

Will ye walk nearer Sir. [_Exit._

_Theo._ She shows still fairer,

Yonger in every change, and clearer, neater;

I know not, I may fool my self, and finely

Nourish a wolfe to eat my heart out; certain

As she appears now, she appears a wonder,

A thing amazes me; what would she do then

In womans helps, in ornaments apt for her

And deckings to her delicacy? without all doubt

She would be held a miracle; nor can I think

He has forsaken her: Say what she please,

I know his curious eye, or say he had,

Put case he could be so boy-blind and foolish,

Yet stil I fear she keeps the Contract with her

Not stoln as she affirms, nor lost by negligence,

She would loose her self first, 'tis her life, and there

All my hopes are dispatch'd; O noble love

That thou couldst be without this jealousie,

Without this passion of the heart, how heavenly

Wouldst thou appear unto us? Come what may come

I'll see the end on't: and since chance has cast her

Naked into my refuge, all I can

She freely shall command, except the man. [_Exit._

_Scæna Tertia_.

_Enter_ Leonardo, _and_ Don Pedro.

_Leon._ Don _Pedro_ do you think assuredly

The Galleys will come round to _Barcelona_

Within these two days?

_Ped._ Without doubt.

_Leo._ And think ye

He will be with 'em certainly?

_Ped._ He is sir

I saw him at their setting off.

_Leo._ Must they needs

Touch there for water as you say?

_Ped._ They must sir

And for fresh meat too, few or none go by it.

Beside so great a Fleet must needs want trimming

If they have met with fowl seas, and no harbor

On this side _Spain_, is able without danger

To moore 'em, but that haven.

_Leo._ Are the wars

His only end?

_Ped._ So he professes.

_Leo._ Bears he

Any command amongst 'em?

_Ped._ Good regard

With all; which quickly will prefer him.

_Leo._ Pray Sir tell me,

And as you are a Gentleman be liberal.

_Ped._ I will Sir, and most true.

_Leo._ Who saw ye with him?

_Ped._ None but things like himself; young Souldiers

And Gentlemen desirous to seek honor.

_Leo._ Was there no woman there, nor none disguis'd

That might be thought a woman in his language?

Did he not let slip something of suspition

Touching that wanton way.

_Ped._ Believe me Sir

I neither saw, nor could suspect that face

That might be doubted womans, yet I am sure

Aboard him I see all that past, and 'tis impossible

Among so many high set bloods there should be

A woman, let her close her self within a cockle,

But they would open her, he must not love

Within that place alone, and therefore surely

He would not be so foolish had he any,

To trust her there; for his discourse, 'twas ever

About his business, war, or mirth to make us

Relish a Can of Wine well; when he spoke private

'Twas only the remembrance of his service,

And hope of your good prayers for his health Sir,

And so I gave him to the seas.

_Leo._ I thank ye,

And now am satisfied, and to prevent

Suspitions that may nourish dangers Signior,

For I have told you how the mad _Alphonso_

Chafes like a Stag i'th toyl, and bends his fury

'Gainst all but his own ignorance; I am determin'd

For peace sake and the preservation

Of my yet untoucht honor, and his cure

My self to seek him there, and bring him back

As testimony of an unsought injury

By either of our actions; That the world,

And he if he have reason, may see plainly

Opinion is no perfect guide; nor all fames

Founders of truths: In the mean time this courtesie

I must intreat of you Sir, Be my self here

And as my self command my family.

_Ped._ Ye lay too much trust on me.

_Leo._ 'Tis my love Sir,

I will not be long from ye; if this question

Chance to be call'd upon ere my return

I leave your care to answer; so Farewell Sir.

_Ped._ Ye take a wise way; All my best endeavors

Shall labor in your absence; peace go with ye. [_Exit Le[o]._

A noble honest Gentleman, free hearted

And of an open faith, much loving, and much loved,

And father of that goodness only malice

Can truly stir against, what dare befall

Till his return I'll answer. [_Exit Ped._

_Enter_ Alphonso, _and Servant_.

_Alph._ Walk off Sirrah,

But keep your self within my call.

_Serv._ I will Sir.

_Alph._ And stir my horse for taking cold: within there,

Hoa people; you that dwell there my brave Signior

What are ye all a sleep? is't that time with ye?

I'll ring a little lowder.

_Enter_ Pedro.

_Ped._ Sir who seek ye?

_Alph._ Not you Sir; Where's your Master?

_Ped._ I serve no man

In way of pay Sir.

_Alph._ Where's the man o'th house then?

_Ped._ What would you have with him Sir?

_Alph._ Do you stand here Sir

To ask men questions when they come?

_Ped._ I would sir

Being his friend, and hearing such alarmes

Know how men come to visit him.

_Alph._ Ye shall Sir,

Pray tell his mightiness here is a Gentleman

By name _Alphonso_, would intreat his conference

About affairs of State Sir, are ye answer'd?

_Enter_ Sanchio _carried_.

_Ped._ I must be Sir.

_Sanch._ Stay, set me down, stay Signior,

You must stay, and ye shall stay.

_Alph._ Meaning me Sir?

_Sanch._ Yes you Sir, you I mean, I mean you.

_Alph._ Well Sir.

Why should I stay?

_Sanch._ There's reason.

_Alph._ Reason Sir?

_Sanch._ I reason Sir

My wrong is greatest, and I will be served first,

Call out the man of fame!

_Alph._ How serv'd Sir?

_Sanch._ Thus sir.

_Alph._ But not before me.

_Sanch._ Before all the world sir

As my case stands.

_Alph._ I have lost a daughter sir.

_Sanch._ I have lost another worth five score of her sir.

_Alph._ Ye must not tell me so.

_San[c]h._ I have, and heark ye?

Make it up five score more: Call out the fellow,

And stand you by sir.

_Ped._ This is the mad morriss.

_Alph._ And I stand by?

_Sanch._ I say stand by, and do it.

_Alph._ Stand by among thy lungs.

_Sanch._ Tu[r]n presently

And say thy prayers, thou art dead.

_Alph._ I scorn thee

And scorn to say my prayers more than thou do'st,

Mine is the most wrong, and my daughter dearest

And mine shall first be righted.

_Sanch._ Shall be righted.

_Ped._ A third may live I see, pray hear me Gentlemen.

_Sanch._ Shall be.

_Alph._ I, shall be righted.

_Sanch._ Now?

_Alph._ Now.

_Sanch._ Instantly.

_Alph._ Before I stir.

_Sanch._ Before me.

_Alph._ Before any.

_Sanch._ Dost thou consider what thou say'st? hast thou friends here

Able to quench my anger, or perswade me

After I have beaten thee into one main bruist

And made thee spend thy state in rotten apples,

Thou canst at length be quiet, shall I kill thee

Divide thee like a rotten Pumpion,

And leave thee stincking to posterity,

There's not the least blow I shall give; but do's this

Urge me no farther: I am first.

_Alph._ I'll hang first.

No goodman glory, 'tis not your bravado's,

Your punctual honor, nor soldadoship.

_Sanch._ Set me a little nearer.

_Alph._ Let him sally.

[Lin'd] with your quircks of carriage and discretion

Can blow me off my purpose. Where's your credit

With all your school points now? your decent arguing

And apt time for performing: where are these toys,

These wise ways, and most honorable courses,

To take revenge? how dar'st thou talk of killing,

Or think of drawing any thing but squirts

When letchery has dry found[e]d thee?

_Sanch._ Neerer yet,

That I may spit him down: thou look'st like a man.

_Ped._ I would be thought so Sir.

_Sanch._ Prethee do but take me,

And fling me upon that Puppy.

_Alph._ Do for heavens sake,

And see but how I'll hug him.

_San[c]h._ Yet take warning.

_Ped._ Faith Gentlemen, this is a needless quarrel.

_Sanch._ And do you desire to make one?

_Ped._ As a friend Sir,

To tell you all this anger is but lost Sir,

For _Leonardo_ is from home.

_Alph._ No, no Sir.

_Ped._ Indeed he is.

_Sanch._ Where dare he be, but here Sir,

When men are wrong'd, and come for satisfactions.

_Ped._ It seems he has done none Sir; for his business

Clear of those cares, hath carried him for sometime

To _Barcelona_: if he had been guilty,

I know he would have stayd, and clear'd all difference

Either by free confession, or his sword.

_Sanch._ This must not be.

_Ped._ Sure as I live, it is Sir.

_Alph._ Sure, as we all live,

He's run away for ever: _Barcelona_!

Why? 'tis the key for _Italy_, from whence

He stole first hither.

_Sanch._ And having found his knaveries

Too gross to be forgiven, and too open,

He has found the same way back again: I believe too

The good grass Gentleman, for his own ease,

Has taken one o'th' Fillyes: Is not his stuff sold.

_Alph._ I fear his worships shoos too; to escape us,

I do not think he has a dish within doors,

A louse left of his linnage.

_Ped._ Ye are too wide Sir.

_Alph._ Or one poor wooden spoon.

_Ped._ Come in and see Sir.

_Alph._ I'll see his house on fire first.

_Ped._ Then be pleased Sir

To give better censure.

_Sanch._ I will after him,

And search him like conceal'd land, but I'll have him,

And though I find him in his shrift, I'll kill him.

_Alph._ I'll bear ye company.

_Sanch._ Pray have a care then,

A most [especiall] care, indeed a fear,

Ye do not anger me.

_Alph._ I will observe ye,

And if I light upon him handsomly.

_Sanch._ Kill but a piece of him, leave some _Alphonso_

For your poor Friends.

_Ped._ I fear him not for all this.

_Alph._ Shall we first go home,

For it may prove a voyage, and dispose

Of things there; heaven knows what may follow.

_Sanch._ No,

I'll kill him in this shirt I have on: let things

Govern themselves, I am master of my honor

At this time, and no more; let wife, and land,

Lie lay till I return.

_Alph._ I say amen to't:

But what care for our monies?

_Sanch._ I will not spend

Above three shillings, till his head be here,

Four is too great a sum for all his Fortunes.

Come take me up instantly.

_Alph._ Farewell to you Sir,

And if your friend be in a featherbed,

Sow'd up to shrowd his fears, tell him 'tis folly,

For no course but his voluntary hanging

Can get our pardons. [_Exeunt._

_Ped._ These I think would be

Offence enough, if their own indiscretions

Would suffer 'em: two of the old seditious,

When they want enemies, they are their own foes:

Were they a little wiser, I should doubt 'em:

Till when I'll ne'r break sleep, nor suffer hunger

For any harm he shall receive: for 'tis as easie

If he be guilty, to turn these two old men

Upon their own throats, and look on, and live still,

As 'tis to tell five pound: a great deal sooner,

And so I'll to my meat, and then to hawking. [_Exit._

_Actus Quartus. Scæna Prima._

_Enter_ Mark-antonio, _and a Gentleman_.

_Marc._ Sir, this is complement; I pray you leave me.

_Gent._ Sir, it is not.

_Marc._ Why? I would only see the Town.

_Gent._ And only that I come to shew you.

_Marc._ Which I can see without you.

_Gent._ So you may

Plainly, not safely: For such difference

As you have seen betwixt the sea and earth

When waves rise high, and land would beat 'em back

As fearful of Invasion; such we find

When we land here at _Barcelona_.

_Marc._ Sir.

_Gent._ Besides our General of the Galleys, fearing

Your hasty nature, charg'd me not return

Without you safe.

_Marc._ O Sir, that _Roderigo_

Is noble, and do's mistake my temper.

There is not in the world, a mind less apt

To conceive wrongs, or do 'em; has he seen me

In all this voyage, in the which he pleases.

_En[t]er_ Eugenia, _with divers Attendants_.

To call me friend, let slip a hasty word?

S'light Sir: yonder is a Lady va[il]d,

For properness beyond comparison,

And sure her face is like the rest: we'll see't.

_Gent._ Why? you are hasty Sir already: know you

What 'tis you go about.

_Marc._ Yes, I would see

The womans face.

_Gent._ By heaven you shall not do't:

You do not know the custom of the place:

To draw that curtain here, though she were mean,

Is mortall.

_Marc._ Is it? earth must come to earth

At last, and by my troth, I'll try it Sir.

_Gent._ Then I must hold you fast. By all the faith

That can be plac'd in man, 'tis an attempt

More dangerous than death, 'tis death and shame:

I know the Lady well.

_Marc._ Is she a Lady?

I shall the more desire to see her Sir.

_Gent._ She is _Alanso_'s wife, the Governor,

A noble Gentleman.

_Marc._ Then let me go,

If I can win her, you and I will govern

This Town Sir, fear it not, and we will alter

These barbarous customs then; for every Lady

Shall be seen daily, and seen over too.

_Gent._ Come, do not jest, nor let your passions bear you

To such wild enterprises: hold you still,

For as I have a soul, you shall not do't.

She is a Lady of unblemish'd fame,

And here to offer that affront, were base:

Hold on your way, and we will see the Town,

And overlook the Ladies.

_Marc._ I am school'd,

And promise you I will: but good Sir, see,

She will pass by us now; I hope I may

Salute her thus far off.

_Gent._ 'S foot, are you mad?

'Twill be as ill as th' other.

_1 Attend._ What's the matter?

What would that fellow have?

_Gent._ Good Sir forbear.

_1. Atten._ It seems you are new landed: would you beg

Any thing here?

_Marc._ Yes Sir, all happiness

To that fair Lady, as I hope.

_Gent. Mark-antonio._

_Marc._ Her face, which needs no hiding: I would beg

A sight of.

_Gent._ Now go on, for 'tis too late

To keep this from a tumult.

_1. Attend._ Sirrah, you

Shall see a fitter object for your eyes,

Then a fair Ladies face.

_Eug._ For heavens sake, raise not

A quarrel in the streets for me.

_1. Attend._ Slip in then;

This is your door.

_Eug._ Will you needs quarrel then?

_1. Attend._ We must, or suffer

This outrage: is't not all your minds Sirs, speak?

_All._ Yes.

_Eug._ Then I do beseech ye, let my Lord

_Enter three or four Souldiers._