you bed-fellow: oh Master, do not hold her by the hand so: a woman
is a Lime-bush, that catcheth all she toucheth.
_Charl._ I do most dangerously suspect this boy to be a wench; art
thou not one? come hither, let me feel thee.
_Ver._ With all my heart.
_Charl._ Why dost thou pull off thy Glove?
_Ver._ Why, to feel whether you be a boy, or no.
_Charl._ Fie boy, go too. I'll not look your head, nor comb your
locks any more, if you talk thus.
_Ver._ Why, I'll sing to you no more then.
_Charl._ Fie upon't, how sad you are! a young Gentleman that was
the very Sun of _France_.
_Mont._ But I am in the eclipse now.
_Cha[r]l._ Suffer himself to be over-run with a Lethargy of
melancholy and discontent! rouze up thy spirit, man, and shake it
off:
A Noble Soul is like a Ship at Sea,
That sleeps at Anchor when the Ocean's calm;
But when she rages, and the wind blows high,
He cuts his way with skill and Majesty.
I would turn a Fool, or Poet, or any thing, or marry, to
make you merry; prethee let's walk: good _Veramour_, leave
thy Master and me, I have earnest business with him.
_Ver._ Pray do you leave my Master, and me: we were very merry
before you came, he does not covet womens company.
What have you to do with him? come Sir will you go?
And I'll sing to you again:
I'faith his mind is stronger than to credit Womens vows, and too
pure to be capable of their loves.
_Charl._ The boy is jealo[u]s, sweet lad leave us: my Lady call'd
for you I swear: that's a good child, there's a piece of Gold for
thee, go buy a Feather.
_Ver._ There's two pieces for you, do you go and buy one, or what
you will, or nothing, so you go. Nay then I see you would have me
go, Sir; why, I'faith I will, now I perceive you love her better
than you do me; but [God] bless you whatever you do, or intend, I
know you are a very honest man. [_Exit._
_Charl._ Still [shall] I wooe thee, whilst thy ears reply
I cannot, or I will not marry thee?
Why hast thou drawn the bloud out of my cheeks,
And given a quicker motion to my heart?
Oh thou hast bred a Feaver in my veins
Call'd love, which no Physitian can cure;
Have mercy on a Maid, whose simple youth--
_Mont._ How your example, fairest, teacheth me
A ceremonious Idolatry! [_Kneels._
By all the joy of love, I love thee better,
Than I or any man can tell another;
And will express the mercy which thou crav'st,
I will forbear to marry thee: consider
Thou art Nature's heir in feature, and thy parents,
In fair Inheritances; rise with these thoughts,
And look on me; but with a womans eye,
A decaid fellow, void of means and spirit.
_Charl._ Of spirit?
_Mont._ Yes, could I tamely live,
Forget my Fathers bloud, wait, and make legs,
Stain my best breeches, with the servile drops
That fall from others draughts.
_Charl._ This vizard wherewith thou wouldst hide thy spirit,
Is perspective, to shew it plainlier.
This undervalue of thy life, is but
Because I should not buy thee, what more speaks
Greatness of man, than valiant patience,
That shrinks not under his fates strongest strokes?
These _Roman_ deaths, as falling on a sword,
Opening of veins, with poison quenching thirst,
(Which we erroneously do stile the deeds
Of the heroick and magnanimous man)
Was dead-ey'd cowardize, and white-cheek'd fear,
Who doubting tyranny, and fainting under
Fortunes false Lottery, desperately run
To death, for dread of death; that soul's most stout,
That bearing all mischance, dares last it out;
Will you perform your word, and marry me,
When I shall call you to't?
_Enter_ Longueville _with a riding-rod_.
_Mont._ I'faith I will.
_Charl._ Who's this alights here?
_Long._ With leave, fair creature, are you the Lady Mistriss of the
house?
_Charl._ Her servant, Sir.
_Long._ I pray then favour me, to inform your Lady, and Duke
_Orleans_ wife,
A business of import awaits 'em here,
And craves for speedy answer.
_Charl._ Are you in post, Sir?
_Long._ No, I am in Satin, Lady; I would you would be in post.
_Charl._ I will return, Sweet. [_Exit._
_Long._ Honest friend, do you belong to the house? I pray be
covered.
_Mont._ Yes Sir, I do.
_Long._ Ha, dream'st thou _Longaville_? sure 'tis not he: Sir I
should know you.
_Mont._ So should I you, but that I am asham'd.
But though thou know'st me, prethee _Longaville_,
Mock not my poverty, pray remember your self;
Shows it not strangely for thy cloaths to stand
Without a Hat to mine? mock me no more.
_Long._ The ---- embroider me all over, Sir,
If ever I began to mock you yet.
The ---- on me, why should I wear Velvet
And Silver Lace? ---- I will tear it off.
_Mont._ Why Mad-man?
_Long._ Put on my Hat? yes, when I am hang'd I will:
---- I could break my head.
For holding eyes that knew not you at first:
But time and fortune run your courses with him,
He'll laugh and storm you, when you shew most hate.
_Enter_ Lamira, Orlean's _Lady_, Laverdine, La Poop,
Malycorn, Veramour, Charlot.
_Lam._ You're a fair Mounsieur.
_Long._ Do you mock me, Lady?
_Lam._ Your business, Sir, I mean.
_Lady._ Regard your self good Mounsieur _Longueville_.
_Lam._ You are too negligent of your self and place,
Cover your head sweet Mounsieur.
_Long._ Mistake me not fair Ladies,
'Tis not to you, nor you, that I stand bare.
_Lav._ Nay sweet dear Mounsieur, let it not be to us then.
_La Poop._ ---- A compliment.
_Mal._ And ---- of manners.
Pray hide your head, your gallants use to do't.
_Long._ And you your foreheads, why you needful accessary rascals,
That cannot live without your mutual knaveries,
More than a Bawd, a Pandor, or a Whore
From one another; how dare you suspect
That I stand bare to you? what make you here?
Shift your house, Lady of 'em, for I know 'em,
They come to steal Napkins, and your Spoons;
Look to your Silver-bodkin, (Gentlewoman)
'Tis a dead _Utensil_, and Page 'ware your pockets;
My reverence is unto this man, my Master,
Whom you, with protestations, and oaths
As high as Heaven, as deep as Hell, which would
Deceive the wisest man of honest nature,
Have cozen'd and abus'd; but I may meet you,
And beat you one with th' other.
_Mont._ Peace, no more.
_Long._ Not a word, Sir.
_Lav._ I am something thick of hearing; what said he?
_La poop._ I hear him, but regard him not.
_Mal._ Nor I, I am never angry fasting.
_Long._ My love keeps back my duty, noblest Lady;
If Husband or brother merit love from you,
Prevent their dangers, this hour brings to trial
Their hereto sleeping hates; by this time each
Within a yard is of the others heart,
And met to prove their causes and their spirits
With their impartial swords points; haste and save,
Or never meet them more, but at the grave.
_Lady._ Oh my distracted heart, that my wrackt honor
Should for a Brothers, or a Husbands life, through thy undoing, die.
_Lam. Amiens_ engag'd; if he miscarry all my hopes and joys,
I now confess it loudly, are undone:
Caroch, and haste, one minute may betray
A life more worth than all time can repay.
[_Exeunt Ladies and_ Mont.
_Mal._ Hump: Monsieur _Laverdine_ pursues this boy extreamly,
Captain, what will you do?
_La p._ Any thing but follow to this Land-service; I am a
Sea-Captain you know, and to offer to part 'em, without we could
do't like Watermen with long staves, a quarter of a mile off, might
be dangerous.
_Mal._ Why then let's retire and pray for 'em, I am resolv'd to
stop your intent; abus'd more than we have been we cannot be,
without they fall to flat beating on's.
[_Exeunt_ Maly, La-poop.
_Lav._ And that were unkindly done i'faith.
_Ver._ But you are the trou[b]lesomest Ass that e'er I met with;
retire, you smell like a womans chamber, that's newly up, before
she have pinsht her vapours in with her cloaths.
_Lav._ I will haunt thee like thy Grandames Ghost, thou shalt never
rest for me.
_Ver._ Well, I perceive 'tis vain to conceal a secret from you:
believe it Sir, indeed I am a woman.
_Lav._ Why la; I knew't, this Prophetical tongue of mine never
fail'd me; my mother was half a witch, never any thing that she
forespake, but came to pass: a woman? how happy am I! now we may
lawfully come together without fear of hanging; sweet wench, be
gracious, in honourable sort I woe, no otherwise.
_Ver._ Faith, the truth is, I have loved you long.
_Lav._ See, see.
_Ver._ But durst not open it.
_Lav._ ---- I think so.
_Ver._ But briefly, when you bring it to the test, if there be not
one Gentleman in this house, will challenge more interest in me,
than you can, I am at your disposure. [_Exit._
_Lav._ Oh _Fortunatus_, I envy thee not
For Cap, or pouch, this day I'll prove my Fortune,
In which your Lady doth elect her Husband,
Who will [b]e _Amiens_, 'twill save my wedding dinner,
_Povera_, _La Poop_, and _Malicorn_: if all fail,
I will turn Citizen, a beauteous wife
Is the Horn-book to the richest Tradesmans life. [_Exeunt._
_Enter_ Duboys, Orleans, Longueville, Amiens, _two_
_Lacques, a Page with two Pistols_.
_Dub._ Here's a good even piece of ground my Lords:
Will you fix here?
_Orl._ Yes, any where; Lacquey, take off my spurs;
Upon a bridge, a rail, but my swords breadth upon a battlement,
I'll fight this quarrel.
_Dub._ O' the Ropes, my Lord.
_Orl._ Upon a Line.
_Dub._ So all our Countrey Duels are carried, like a firework on a
thred.
_Orl._ Go now, stay with the horses, and, do you hear?
Upon your lives, till some of us come to you,
Dare not to look this way.
_Dub._ Except you see strangers or others that by chance or purpose
are like to interrupt us.
_Orl._ Then give warning.
_Long._ Who takes a sword? the advantage is so small,
As he that doubts, hath the free leave to choose.
_Orl._ Come, give me any, and search me; 'tis not
The ground, weapon, or seconds that can make
Odds in those fatal trials: but the cause.
_Ami._ Most true, and, but it is no time to wish
When men are come to do, I would desire
The cause 'twixt us were other than it is;
But where the right is, there prevail our Swords.
And if my Sister have out-liv'd her honor,
I do not pray I may out-live her shame.
_Orl._ Your Sister _Amiens_, is a whore, at once.
_Ami._ You oft have spoke that sence to me before,
But never in th[i]s language _Orleance_;
And when you spoke it fair, and first, I told you
That it was possible you might be abus'd:
But now, since you forget your manners, you shall find,
If I transgress my custom, you do lye,
And are a villain, which I had rather yet
My sword had prov'd, than I been forc'd to speak:
Nay, give us leave, and since you stand so haughtily
And highly on your cause, let you and I,
Without engaging these two Gentlemen, singly determine it.
_Long._ My Lord, you'll pardon us.
_Dub._ I trust your Lordships may not do us that affront.
_Ami._ As how?
_Dub._ We kiss your Lordships hand, and come to serve you here with
swords.
_Long._ My Lord, we understand our selves.
_Dub._ We have had the honor to be call'd unto the business, and we
must not now quit it on terms.
_Ami._ Not terms of reason?
_Long._ No, no [r]eason for the quitting of our calling.
_Dub._ True, if I be call'd to't I must ask no reason.
_Long._ Nor hear none neither, which is less:
It is a favour, if my throat be cut,
Your Lordship does me; which I never can,
[_A noise-within, crying down with your swords._
Nor must have hope how to requite: what noise?
What cry is that my Lord upon your guard?
So[me] treachery is a foot.
_Enter Lady_ Orleans, Lamira, Montague.
_Lady._ Oh here they are:
My Lord (dear Lady help me) help me all;
I have so woful interest in both,
I know not which to fear for most: and yet
I must prefer my Lord. Dear brother,
You are too understanding, and too noble
To be offended, when I know my duty,
Though scarce my tears will let me so to do it.
_Orl._ Out loathed strumpet.
_Lady._ Oh my dearest Lord,
If words could on me cast the name of whore,
I then were worthy to be loath'd; but know,
Your unkindness cannot make me wicked;
And therefore should less use that power upon me.
_Orl._ Was this your Art to make these Actors come,
To make this interlude? withdraw, cold man,
And if thy spirit be not frozen up,
Give me one stroke yet at thee for my vengeance.
_Ami._ Thou shalt have strokes, and strokes, thou glorious man,
Till thou breath'st thinner air than that thou talkest.
_Lam._ My Lord, Count _Amiens_.
_Lady._ Princely Husband.
_Orl._ Whore.
[_Lam._] You wrong her impudent Lord; oh that I had the bulk
Of those dull men; look how they stand, and no man
Will revenge an innocent Lady.
_Ami._ You hinder it Madam.
_Lam._ I would hinder you; is there none else to kill him?
_Lady._ Kill him, Madam? have you learn'd that bad language? oh repent,
And be the motive, rather both kill me.
_Orl._ Then d[i]e my infamy.
_Mont._ Hold bloody man.
_Orl._ Art thou there Basilisk?
_Mont._ To strike thee dead, but that thy fate deserves some
weightier hand.
_Dub._ Sweet my Lord.
_Orl._ Oh here's a plot; you bring your champions with you; the
adultress with the adulterer: Out howling--
_Dub._ Good my Lord.
_Orl._ Are you her Graces countenancer, Lady, the receiver to the
poor vicious couple.
_Dub._ Sweet my Lord.
_Orl._ Sweet rascal, didst not tho[u] tell me, false fellow,
This _Montague_ here was murdered?
_Dub._ I did so; but he was falser, and a worthless Lord,
Like thy foul self that would have had it so.
_Long. Orleance_ 'tis true, and shall be prov'd upon thee.
_Mont._ Thy malice Duke, and this thy wicked nature, are all as
visible as thou; but I born to contemn thy injuries, do know, that
though thy greatness may corrupt a Jury, and make a Judge afraid,
and carry out a world of evils with thy Title: yet thou art not
quiet at home, thou bearest about thee that, that doth charge thee,
and condemn thee too. The thing that grieves me more, and doth
indeed displease me, is, to think that so much baseness stands here
to have encountred so much honor: Pardon me my Lord, what late my
passion spake, when you provok'd my innocence.
_Orl._ Yes, do, oh! flattery becomes him better than the suit he
wears; give him a new one, _Amiens_.
_Ami. Orleance_, 'tis here no time nor place, to jest or rail
Poorly with you, but I will find a time to
Whisper you forth to this, or some fit place,
As shall not hold a second interruption.
_Mont._ I hope your Lordships honor, and your life
Are destined unto higher hazards; this is of
A meaner arm.
_Dub._ Yes faith, or none.
_Long._ He is not fit to fall by an honest Sword,
A Prince and lye!
_Dub._ And slander, and hire men
To publish the false rumours he hath made.
_Long._ And stick 'em on his friends, and innocents.
_Dub._ And practice against their lives after their fames.
_Long._ In men that are the matter of all lewdness,
Bawds, Thieves, and Cheaters, it were monstrous.
_Dub._ But in a man of bloud, how more conspicuous!
_Ami._ Can this be?
_Lady._ They do slander him.
_Orl._ Hang them, a pair of railing hangbies.
_Long._ How? stand _Orleance_; stay, give me my Pistols boy,
Hinder me not, by----
I will kill him.
_Lady._ Oh, stay his fury.
_Ami. Longueville_, my friend.
_Long._ Not for my self, my Lord, but for mankind,
And all that have an interest to virtue,
Or title unto innocence.
_Ami._ Why hear me.
_Long._ For justice sake.
_Ami._ That cannot be.
_Long._ To punish his wives, your honor, and my Lords wrongs here,
whom I must ever call so; for your loves I'll swear I'll sacrifice--
_Ami. Longueville_, I did not think you a murtherer before.
_Long._ I care not what you thought me.
_Ami._ By ---- If thou attempt
His life, thy own is forfeit.
_Mont._ Foolish frantick man, the murder will be of us, not him.
_Lady._ Oh [God]!
_Mont._ We could have kill'd him, but we would not take
The justice out of fates.--
Sindge but a hair of him, thou diest.
_Long._ No matter, shoot.
_Ami._ Villain.
_Dub._ My Lord, your Sister is slain.
_Ami. Biancha?_
_Mont._ Oh hapless, and most wretched chance.
_Lam._ Standst thou looking upon the mischief thou hast made?
Thou godless man, feeding thy blood-shot eyes
With the red spectacle, and art not turn'd to stone
With horror? Hence, and take the wings of thy black
Infamy, to carry thee beyond the shoot of looks,
Or sound of curses, which will pursue thee still:
Thou hast out-fled all but thy guilt.
_Orl._ Oh wish it off again, for I am crack'd
Under the burden, and my heart will break.
How heavy guilt is, when men come to feel
If you could know the mountain I sustain
With horror, you would each take off your part,
And more, to ease me: I cannot stand,
Forgive where I have wrong'd, I pray.
_Ami._ Look to him _Montague_.
_Long._ My Lords and Gentlemen, the Lady is well, but for fear,
Unless that have shot her;
I have the worst on't, that needs would venture
Upon a trick had like to ha' cost my guts:
Look to her, she'll be well, it was but Powder
I charg'd with, thinking that a guilty man
Would have been frighted sooner; but I'm glad
He's come at last.
_La[m]._ How is _Byancha_? well?
_Ami._ Lives she? see Sister, doth she breathe?
_Lady._ Oh Gentlemen, think you I can breathe,
That am restored to the hateful sense
Of feeling in me my dear husbands death?
Oh no, I live not; life was that I left;
And what you have call'd me to, is death indeed:
I cannot weep so fast as he doth bleed.
_Dub._ Pardon me, Madam, he is well.
_Lady._ Ha my Husband.
_Orl._ I cannot speak whether my joy or shame
Be greater, but I thank the Heavens for both.
Oh look not black upon me, all my friends,
To whom I will be reconcil'd, or grow unto
This earth, till I have wept a trench
That shall be great enough to be my grave,
And I will think them too most manly tears,
If they do move your pities: it is true,
Man should do nothing that he should repent;
But if he have, and say that he is sorry,
It is a worse fault, if he be not truly.
_Lam._ My Lord, such sorrow cannot be suspected:
Here take your honoured wife, and joyn your hands.
----She hath married you again:
And Gentlemen, I do invite you all,
This night to take my house, where on the morrow,
To heighten more the reconciling feast,
I'll make my self a Husband and a guest. [_Exeunt._
_Actus Quintus. Scæna Prima._
_Enter_ Montague, _and_ Charlotte.
_Charl._ Well now I am sure you are mine.
_Mont._ I am sure I am glad
I have one to own then; you'll find me honest
As these days go, enough; poor without question,
Which beggars hold a virtue; give me meat, and I
Shall do my work, else knock my shooes off,
And turn me out again.
_Char._ You are a merry fellow.
_Mont._ I have no great cause.
_Char._ Yes, thy love to me.
_Mont._ That's as we make our game.
_Char._ Why, you repent then?
_Mont._ Faith no worse than I am I cannot be;
Much better I expect not: I shall love you,
And when you bid me go to bed, obey,
Lie still or move, as you shall minister;
Keep a four-Nobles Nag, and a _Jack_
_Merling_, learn to love Ale, and play at Two-hand _Irish_,
And there's then all I aim at.
_Char._ Nay sweet fellow, I'll make it something better.
_Mont._ If you do, you'll make me worse:
Now I am poor, and willing to do well,
Hold me in that course; of all the Kings creatures,
I hate his coin, keep me from that, and save me;
For if you chance out of your housewivery
To leave a hundred pound or two, bestow it
In Plumb-broth e'r I know it, else I take it;
Seek out a hundred men that want this money,
Share it among 'em, they'll cry noble _Montague_,
And so I stand again at livery.
_Char._ You have pretty fancies, Sir, but married once,
This charity will fall home to your self.
_Mont._ I would it would, I am afraid my looseness
Is yet scarce stopt, though it have nought to work on
But the meer air of what I have had.
_Char._ Pretty.
_Mont._ I wonder sweet heart why you'll marry me,
I can see nothing in my self deserves it,
Unless the handsome wearing of a band,
For that's my stock now, or a pair of garters;
Necessity will not let me loose.
_Char._ I see Sir, a great deal more, a handsome man, a Husband,
To make a right good woman truly happy.
_Mont._ Lord, where are my eyes, either you are foolish
As wenches once a year are, or far worse,
Extreamly virtuous, can you love a poor man
That relies on cold meat, and cast stockings,
One only suit to his back, which now is mewing?
But what will be the next coat will pose _Tristram_.
If I should leavy from my friends a fortune:
I could not raise ten groats to pay the Priest now.
_Char._ I'll do that duty; 'tis not means nor money
Makes me pursue your love; were your mind bankrupt,
I would never love you.
_Enter_ Lamira.
_Mont._ Peace wench, here's my Lady.
_Lam._ Nay, never shrink i'th' wetting, for my presence;
D'ye find her willing _Montague_?
_Mont._ Willing Madam?
_Lam._ How dainty you make of it, do not I know
You two love one another?
_Mont._ Certain Madam, I think ye'ave revelations of these matters:
Your Ladyship cannot tell me when I kist her.
_Lam._ But she can, Sir.
_Mont._ But she will not Madam;
For when they talk once, 'tis like Fairy-Money,
They get no more close kisses.
_Lam._ Thou art wanton.
_Mont._ [God] knows I need not, yet I would be lusty:
But ---- my Provender scarce pricks me.
_Lam._ It shall be mended _Montague_, I am glad you are
grown so merry.
_Mont._ So am I too Madam.
_Lam._ You two will make a pretty handsome Consort.
_Mont._ Yes Madam, if my Fiddle fail me not.
_Lam._ Your Fiddle? why your Fiddle? I warrant thou
meanest madly:
_Mont._ Can you blame me? alas I am in love.
_Char._ 'Tis very well, Sir.
_Lam._ How long have you been thus?
_Mont._ How thus in love?
_Lam._ You are very quick, Sir: no, I mean thus pleasant.
_Mont._ --Ever since I was poor.
_Lam._ A little wealth would change you then?
_Mont._ Yes Lady, into another suit, but never more
Into another man: I'll bar that mainly,
The wealth I get hence-forward shall be charm'd
For ever hurting me, I'll spend it fasting:
As I live noble Lady, there is nothing
I have found directly, cures the melancholy,
But want and wedlock; when I had store of money,
I simper'd sometime, and spoke wondrous wise,
But never laught out-right; now I am empty,
My heart sounds like a Bell, and strikes at both sides.
_Lam._ You are finely temper'd, _Montague_.
_Mont._ Pardon Lady, if any way my free mirth have offended,
'Twas meant to please you: if it prove too saucy,
Give it a frown, and I am ever silenc'd.
_Lam._ I like it passing well; pray follow it:
This is my day of choice, and shall be yours too,
'Twere pity to delay ye: call to the Steward,
And tell him 'tis my pleasure he should give you
Five hundred Crowns: make your self handsome _Montague_,
Let none wear better cloaths, 'tis for my credit;
But pray be merry still.
_Mont._ If I be not, and make a fool of twice as many hundreds,
Clap me in Canvas, Lady. [_Exeunt._
_Enter_ La-poop, Laverdine, _and_ Malycorne.
_Lav._ I am strangely glad, I have found the mystery
Of this disguised boy out: I ever trusted
It was a woman; and how happily
I have found it so; and for my self, I am sure,
One that would offer me a thousand pound now
(And that's a pretty sum to make one stagger)
In ready Gold for this concealment, could not
Buy my hope of her, she's a dainty wench,
And such a one I find I want extreamly,
To bring me into credit: beauty does it.
_Mal._ Say we should all meach here, and stay the Feast, now, what
can the worst be? we have plaid the knaves, that's without question.
_La-p._ True, and as I take it, this is the first truth
We told these ten years, and for any thing
I know, may be the last: but grant we are knaves,
Both base and beastly knaves--
_Mal._ Say so then.
_Lav._ Well.
_La-p._ And likewise let it be considered, we have wrong'd,
And most maliciously, this Gentlewoman
We cast to stay with, what must we expect now?
_Mal._ I, there's the point, we would expect good eating.
_La-p._ I know we would, but we may find good beating.
_Lav._ You say true Gentlemen, and by----
Though I love meat as well as any man,
I care not what he be, if a eat a Gods name;
Such a crab-sauce to my meat will turn my pallate.
_Mal._ There's all the hazard, for the frozen _Montague_
Has now got spring again, and warmth in him,
And without doubt, dares beat us terribly.
For not to mint the matter, we are cowards,
And have, and shall be beaten, when men please
To call us into cudgeling.
_La-p._ I feel we are very prone that way.
_Lav._ The sons of _Adam_.
_La-p._ Now, here then rests the state o'th' question;
Whether we yield our bodies for a dinner
To a sound dog-whip, for I promise ye,
If men be given to correction,
We can expect no less; or quietly
Take a hard Egg or two, and ten mile hence
Bait in a ditch, this we may do securely;
For, to stay hereabout will be all one,
If once our moral mischiefs come in memory.
_Mal._ But pray ye hear me, is not this the day
The Virgin Lady doth elect her Husband?
_Lav._ The dinner is to that end.