PROLOGUE.

_Plays have their fates, not as in their true sence_

_They're understood, but as the influence_

_Of idle custom, madly works upon_

_The dross of many tongu'd opinion._

_A worthy story, howsoever writ_

_For Language, modest Mirth, Conceit or Wit,_

_Meets oftentimes with the sweet commendation_

_Of hang't, 'tis scurvy, when for approbation_

_A Jigg shall be clapt at, and every rhime_

_Prais'd and applauded by a clamorous chime._

_Let ignorance and laughter dwell together,_

_They are beneath the Muses pity. Hither_

_Come nobler Judgements, and to those the strain_

_Of our invention is not bent in vain,_

_The_ Fair Maid of the Inn _to you commends_

_Her hopes and welcomes, and withal intends_

_In th' Entertains to which she doth invite ye,_

_All things to please, a[n]d some things to delight ye._

Actus Primus. Scæna Prima.

_Enter_ Cesario, _and_ Clarissa.

_Cesario._ Interpret not _Clarissa_, my true zeal

In giving you counsel, to transcend the bounds

That should confine a brother; 'tis your honor,

And peace of mind (which honor last will leave you)

I labor to preserve, and though you yet are

Pure and untainted, and resolve to be so:

Having a Fathers eye, and Mothers care

In all your ways to keep you fair, and upright.

In which respects my best advices must

Appear superfluous; yet since love, dear Sister

Will sometimes tender things unnecessary,

Misconstrue not my purpose.

_Claris._ Sir, I dare not:

But still receive it as a large addition,

To the much that I already stand ingag'd for,

Yet pardon me, though I profess upon

A true examination of my self,

Even to my private thoughts I cannot find

(Having such strong supporters to uphold me)

On what slight ground the least doubt can be rais'd

To render me suspected, I can fall,

Or from my Fame or Virtue.

_Cæsar._ Far be it from me,

To nourish such a thought; and yet excuse me,

As you would do a Lapidary, whose whole fortunes

Depend upon the safety of one Jewel,

If he think no case precious enough

To keep it in full lustre, nor no locks,

Though lending strength to Iron doors sufficient

To guard it, and secure him; you to me are

A Gemm of more esteem, and priz'd higher

Than Usurers do their Muck, or great men Title.

And any flaw (which heaven avert) in you,

(Whose reputation like a Diamond

Cut newly from the rock, women with envie,

And men with covetous desires look up at)

By prying eies discovered in a moment

Would render what the braveries of _Florence_

For want of counterpoize, forbear to cheapen,

Of little or no value.

_Claris._ I see brother

The mark you shoot at, and much thank your love;

But for my Virgin Jewel which is brought

In comparison with your Diamond, rest assur'd

It shall not fall in such a workmans hands

Whose ignorance or malice shall have power

To cast one cloud upon it, but still keep

Her native splendor.

_Cesa._ 'Tis well, I commend you;

And study your advancement with that care

As I would do a Sisters, whom I love

With more than common order.

_Claris._ That from me,

I hope's return'd to you.

_Cesar._ I do confess it,

Yet let me tell you, (but still with that love,

I wish to increase between us) that you are

Observ'd against the gravity long maintain'd

In _Italy_ (where to see a maid unmasqu'd

Is [h]eld a blemish) to be over-frequent

In giving or receiving visits.

_Clari._ How?

_Cesar._ Whereas the custom is here to wooe by Picture,

And never see the substance: you are fair,

And beauty draws temptations on; You know it,

I would not live to see a willing grant

From you, to one unworthy of your birth,

Feature or fortune; yet there have been Ladies

Of rank, proportion, and of means beyond you,

That have prov'd this no miracle.

_Claris._ One unworthy?

Why, pray you gentle brother, who are they

That I vouchsafe these bounties to? I hope

In your strict Criticisme of me, and my manners,

That you will not deny they are your equals.

_Cesar._ Angry?

_Claris._ I have reason, but in cold blood tell me,

Had we not one Father?

_Cesar._ Yes, and Mother too.

_Claris._ And he a Soldier.

_Cesar._ True.

_Claris._ If I then borrow

A little of the boldness of his temper,

Imparting it to such as may deserve it;

(However indulgent to your selves, you brothers

Allow no part of freedom to your Sisters)

I hope 'twill not pass for a crime in me,

To grant access and speech to noble suitors;

And you escape for innocent, that descend

To a thing so far beneath you. Are you touch'd?

Why did you think that you had _Giges_ Ring,

Or the Herb that gives invisibility?

Or that _Biancha's_ name had ne'er been mention'd;

The fair Maid of the grand _Osteria_, brother.

_Cesar._ No more.

_Claris._ A little, brother. Your night walks,

And offer'd presents; which coy she, contemn'd,

Your combats in disguises with your Rivals,

Brave _Muletiers_. Scullions perfum'd with grease,

And such as [cry] meat for Cats must be remembred;

And all this pother for a common trull,

A tempting sign, and curiously set forth,

To draw in riotous guests, a thing expos'd

To every Ruffians rude assault; and subject

For a poor salary, to a rich mans lust,

Though made up of diseases.

_Cesar._ Will you end yet?

_Claris._ And this a Mistriss for _Albertus_ Son,

One that I should call Sister?

_Cesar._ Part not with

Your modesty in this violent heat; the truth is,

(For you shall be my Confessor) I love her,

But virtuously; report that gives her out

Only for fair, and adds not she is chaste,

Detracts much from her: for indeed she is,

Though of a low condition; compos'd

Of all those graces, dames of highest birth,

Though rich in natures bounties, should be proud of;

But leave her, and to you my nearest care,

My dearest best _Clarissa_. Do not think

(For then you wrong me) I wish you should live

A barren Virgin life; I rather aim at

A noble Husband, that may make you mother

Of many children, one that when I know him

Worth your embraces, I may serve, and sue [to]:

And therefore scorn not to acquaint me with

That man, that happy man; you please to favour.

_Claris._ I ever purpos'd it, for I will like

With your allowance:

_Cesa._ As a pawn of this;

Receive this Ring, but e'r you part with it

On any terms, be certain of your choice;

And make it known to me.

_Enter Servants with Lights_, Alberto, Baptista,

Mariana, Mentivole.

_Claris._ You have my hand for't.

_Cesar._ Which were it not my Sisters, I should kiss:

With too much heat.

_Claris._ My Father and his guests, Sir.

_Alber._ Oh my old friend, my tri'd friend, my _Baptista_:

These days of rest and feasting, sute not with

Our tougher natures, those were golden ones,

Which were enjoy'd at Sea; that's our true Mother:

The Land's to us a step-dame; there we sought

Honor, and wealth through dangers: yet those dangers

Delighted more than their rewards, though great ones,

And worth the undertakers: here we study

The Kitchin Arts, to sharpen appetite,

Dull'd with abundance; and dispute with Heaven;

If that the least puff of the rough North-wind,

Blast our times burthen, rendring to our Palats

The charming juice less pleasing; whereas there

If we had Bisket, powder'd flesh, fresh water,

We thought them _Persian_ delicates, and for Musick

If a strong gale but made the main yard crack,

We danc'd to the loud Minstrel.

_Bapt._ And fear'd less,

(So far we were in love with noble action)

A tempest than a calm.

_Alber._ 'Tis true _Baptista_;

There, there, from mutual aids lent to each other,

And virtuous emulation to exceed

In manly daring, the true School of friendship,

We learnt those principles, which confirm'd us friends

Never to be forgot.

_Baptist._ Never I hope.

_Alber._ We were married there, for bells the roaring Canon,

Aloud proclaim'd it lawful, and a prize

Then newly ta'en, and equally divided,

Serv'd as a dowry to you, then stil'd my wife;

And did enable me to be a Husband,

Fit to encounter so much wealth, though got

With bloud and horror.

_Maria._ If so got, 'tis fit Sir

Now you possess it, that you should enjoy it

In peace, and quiet; I, your Son, and Daughter

That reap the harvest of your winters labour,

Though debtors for it yet have often trembled,

When, in way of discourse, you have related

How you came by it.

_Alber._ Trembled? how the softness

Of your sex may excuse you, I'll not argue,

But to the world, howe'er I hold thee noble

I should proclaim this boy some cowards bastard,

And not the Image of _Albertus_ youth:

If when some wish'd occasion calls him forth,

To a brave trial, one weak artery

Of his, should show a fever, though grim death

Put on a thousand dreadful shapes to fright him;

The Elements, the Sea, and all the Winds

We number on our compass, then conspiring

To make the Scæne more ghastly; I must have thee

Sirrah, I must, If once you grapple with

An enemies ship, to board her, though you see

The desperate Gunner ready to give fire,

And blow the deck up, or like _Cæsar's_ Soldier

Thy hands like his cut off, hang by the teeth,

And die undaunted.

_Maria._ I even die to hear you:

My son, my lov'd _Cesario_ run such hazards?

Bless'd Saints forbid it: you have done enough

Already for one family, that rude way;

I'll keep him safe at home, and train him up

A compleat Courtier: may I live to see him,

By sweet discourse, and gracious demeanor,

Winn, and bring home a fair Wife, and a rich;

'Tis all I rest ambitious of.

_Alber._ A Wife!

As if there were a course to purchase one

Prevailing more than honourable action!

Or any Intercessors move so far,

To take a Mistriss of a noble spirit,

As the true fame of glorious victories,

Atchiev'd by sweat and bloud! Oh the brave dames

Of warlike _Genoua_! they had eyes to see

The inward man, and only from his worth,

Courage, and conquests: the blind Archer knew

To head his shafts, or light his quenched Torch,

They were proof against them else.

No Carpet Knight

That spent his youth in Groves, or pleasant Bowers;

Or stretching on a Couch his lazy limbs,

Sung to his Lute such soft and melting Notes,

As _Ovid_, nor _Anacreon_ ever knew,

Could work on them, nor once bewitch'd their sense;

Though he came so perfum'd as he had robb'd

_Sabæa_, or _Arabia_, of their wealth;

And stor'd it in one sute:

I still remember,

And still remember it with joy, _Baptista_,

When from the rescue of the _Genoua_ Fleet,

Almost surpriz'd by the _Venetian_ Gallies,

Thou didst return, and wert receiv'd in triumph.

How lovely in thy honor'd wounds and scars

Thou didst appear! what worlds of amorous glances

The beauties of the City (where they stood,

Fix'd like so many of the fairest stars)

Shot from their windows at thee! how it fir'd

Their blouds to see the enemies captive streams

Born through the streets! nor could chaste _Juliana_

The Duke's fair Neece, though guarded with her greatness

Resist this gallant charge, but laying by

Desparity of fortune from the object,

Yielded her self thy prisoner.

_Bap._ Pray you chuse some other theme.

_Mari._ Can there be one more pleasing?

_Bap._ That triumph drew on me a greater torture,

And 'tis in the remembrance little less

Than ever Captive suffer'd.

_Mari._ How? to gain the favour of so great a Lady?

_Bap._ Yes, since it prov'd fatal, t'have been happy, Madam,

Adds to calamity, and the heavy loss

Of her I durst not hope for, once enjoy'd,

Turns what you think a blessing to a curse,

Which grief would have forgotten.

_Alber._ I am sorry I touch'd upon it.

_Maria._ I burn rather, Sir,

With a desire to hear the story of

Your loves, and shall receive it as a favour,

Which you may grant.

_Bap._ You must not be deny'd,

Yet with all brevity I must report it;

'Tis true, fair _Juliana_ (_Genoua's_ pride)

Enamour'd of my actions, lik'd my person;

Nor could I but with joy meet her affection;

Since it was lawful, for my first wife dead;

We were closely married, and for some few months

Tasted the fruits of't; but malicious fate,

Envying our too much happiness, wrought upon

A faithless servant, privy to our plot,

And Cabinet-Counselor to _Juliana_,

Who either for hope, or reward, or fear,

Discover'd us to the incensed Duke:

Whose rage made her close prisoner, and pronounc'd

On me perpetual banishment: some three years

I wander'd on the Seas, since entertain'd

By the great Duke of _Florence_; but what fate

Attended her? or _Prospero_ my friend,

That staid at _Genoua_, to expect the issue,

Is yet uncertain.

_Enter a Gentleman._

_Alber._ From the Duke:

_Bap._ He's welcome, to end my forc'd relation.

_Alber._ Signior _Baptista_;

The Great Dukes Will commands your present [e]are.

_Gent._ It points indeed at both of you.

_Bap._ I wait it.

_Alber._ In _Mariana_, to your rest.

_Bap._ Nay leave us, we must be private.

_Maria._ Stay not long _Cesario_:

[--_Exeunt Manet_ Cesario, Mentivole.

_Mentivo._ So these old men vanish'd, 'tis allow'd

That we may speak, and howsoe'r they take

Delight in the discourse of former dangers,

It cannot hinder us to treat a little

Of present pleasures.

_Cesario._ Which if well injoy'd,

Will not alone continue, but increase

In us their friendship.

_Ment._ How shall we spend the night?

To snore it out like drunken _Dutchmen_, would

Sort ill with us _Italians_. We are made

Of other metall, fiery, quick, and active;

Shall we take our fortune? and while our cold fathers

(In whom long since their youthful heats were dead,)

Talk much of _Mars_, serve under _Venus_ Ensigns,

And seek a Mistriss.

_Cesar._ That's a game dear friend,

That does admit no rival in chase of it.

And either to be undertook alone,

Or not to be attempted.

_Ment._ I'll not press you;

What other sports to entertain the time with

The following morning?

_Cesar._ Any that may become us.

_Ment._ Is the _Neapolitan_ horse the Viceroy sent you,

In a fit plight to run?

_Cesar._ So my Groom tells me.

I can boast little of my horsemanship;

Yet upon his assurance, I dare wager

A thousand Crowns, 'gainst any horse in _Florence_,

For an eight mile course.

_Ment._ I would not win of you,

In respect you are impatient of loss:

Else I durst match him with my _Barbary_

For twice the sum.

_Cesar._ You do well to excuse it, being certain to be beaten.

_Ment._ Tush. You know the contrary.

_Cesar._ To end the controversie

Put it to trial, by my life I'll meet you

_Enter_ Clarissa.

With the next rising Sun.

_Ment._ A match. But here

Appears a _Cynthia_, that scorns to borrow

A beam of light from the great eye of Heaven,

She being her self all brightness; how I envy

Those amorous smiles, those kisses, but sure chaste ones

Which she vouchsafes her brother!

_Claris._ You are wanton:

Pray you think me not _Biancha_, leave I pray you;

My Mother will not sleep before she see you,

And since you know her tenderness, nay fondness;

In every circumstance that concerns your safety,

You are not equal to her.

_Cesar._ I must leave you; but will not fail to meet you.

_Ment._ Soft sleeps to you.

_Within. Mariana: Cesario._

_Claris._ You are call'd again.

_Cesar._ Some Sons

Complain of too much rigor in their Mothers;

I of too much indulgence; you will follow.-- [_Exit._

_Claris._ You are her first care, therefore lead the way.

_Ment._ She staies: blest opportunity, she staies:

As she invited conference, she was ever

Noble, and free: but thus to tempt my frailty,

Argues a yielding in her; or contempt

Of all that I dare offer; stand I now

Consulting? No, I'll put it home.

_Claris._ Who waits there? more Lights.

_Ment._ You need them not, they are as useless,

As at noon-day; can there be darkness, where

Nature then wisely liberal, vouchsaf'd

To lend two Suns.

_Claris. Hyperboles_:

_Ment._ No, truths:

Truths beauteous Virgin, so my love-sick heart

Assures me, and my understanding tells me

I must approach them wisely, should I rashly

Press near their scorching beams, they would consume me

And on the contrary, should your disdain

Keep me at too much distance, and I want

Their comfortable heat, the frost of death

Would seize on all my faculties.

_Cla._ Pray you pause, Sir.

This vehemency of discourse must else needs tire you.

These gay words take not me, 'tis simple faith

Honest integrity, and lawful flames

I am delighted with:

_Ment._ Such I bring with me, and therefore Lady.

_Cla._ But that you took me off

E're I came to a period; I had added

A long experience must be requir'd

Both of his faith and trust, with whom a Virgin

Trafficks for, what's dearest in this life,

Her liberty, and honor; I confess

I oft have view'd you with an eye of favour,

And with your generous parts the many tenders

Of doing me all fair offices, have won

A good opinion from me.

_Ment._ Oh speak ever, I never heard such Musick.

_Cla._ A plain tune, Sir:

But 'tis a hearty one; when I perceive

By evident proofs, your aims are truly noble,

And that you bring the Engines of fair Love,

Not of foul Lust, to shake and undermine

My Maiden-fortress: I may then make good

What now I dare not promise.

_Ment._ You already

In taking notice of my poor deservings,

Have been magnificent, and 'twill appear

A frontless impudence to ask beyond this

Yet qualifie, though not excuse my error,

Though now I am ambitious to desire

A confirmation of it.

_Cla._ So it wrong not my modesty to grant it.

_Ment._ 'Tis far from me,

I only am a suitor, you would grace me

With some toy, but made rich in that you wore it,

To warrant to the world that I usurp not

When I presume to stile my self your servant,

A ribond from your shooe:

_Cla._ You are too humble,

I'll think upon't; and something of more value

Shall witness how I prize you, it grows late,

I'll bring you to the door.

_Ment._ You still more bind me.-- [_Exeunt._

_Enter Duke of_ Florence, Alberto, Baptista,

_Magistrates_, _and Attendants_.

_Duke._ You find by this assur'd intelligence

The preparation of the _Turk[e]_ against us.

We have met him oft and beat him; now to fear him

Would argue want of courage, and I hold it

A safer policie for us and our signiories

To charge him in his passage o'er the Sea,

Than to expect him here.

_Alb._ May it please your Highness

Since you vouchsafe to think me worthy of

This great imployment, if I may deliver

My judgement freely, 'tis not flattery

Though I say my opinion waits on you,

Nor would I give my suffrage and consent

To what you have propos'd, but that I know it

Worth the great speaker, though that the denial

Call'd on your heavy anger. For my self

I do profess thus much, if a blunt Soldier,

May borrow so much from the oyl'd tongu'd Courtier,

(That ecchoes whatsoe'er the Prince allows of)

All that my long experience hath taught me

That have spent three parts of my life at Sea,

(Let it not taste of arrogance that I say it)

Could not have added reasons of more weight

To fortifie your affections, than such

As your grace out of observation meerly

Already have propounded.

_Bap._ With the honor to give the daring enemy an affront

In being the first opposer it will teach

Your Soldiers boldness: and strike fear in them

That durst attempt you.

_1 Magi._ Victuals and Ammunition,

And Money too, the sinews of the War, are stor'd up in the

Magazine.

_2 Magi._ And the Gallies new rig'd and train'd up,

And at two dayes warning fit for the service.

_Duke._ We commend your care,

Nor will we e'er be wanting in Our counsels,

As we doubt not your action; you _Baptista_

Shall stay with us; that Merchant is not wise,

That ventures his whole fortunes in one bottom.

_Albert._ Be our Admiral, spare your thanks,

'Tis Merit in you that invites this honor,

Preserve it such; ere long you shall hear more,

Things rashly undertaken end as ill,

But great acts thrive when reason guides the will.

--_Exeunt. Enter 3 Gentlemen._

_1._ No question 'twas not well done in _Cæsario_,

To cross the horse of young _Mentivole_

In the midst of this course.

_2._ That was not all, the switching him dull'd him.

_3._ Would that both the jades

Had broke their necks, when they first started; 'Slight,

We stand here prating, give them leave to whisper,

And when they have cut one anothers throats

_Enter_ Mentivole, _and_ Cæsario.

Make in to part 'em.

_2._ There is no such hazard,

Their Fathers friendship, and their love forbid it;

See where they come!

_1._ With fury in their looks.

_Ment._ You have the wager, with what foul play got

I'll not dispute:

_Cæsar._ Foul play?

_Ment._ I cannot speak it

In a fairer language, and if some respects

Familiar to my self chain'd not my tongue,

I should say no more. I should, but I'll sit down,

With this disgrace; how e'er press me no farther.

For if once more provok'd, you'll understand

I dare no more suffer an Injury,

Than I dare do one.

_Cæsar._ Why Sir are you injur'd

In that I take my right which I would force,

Should you detain it?

_Ment._ Put it to judgment.

_Cæsar._ No; my will in this shall carry it.

_Ment._ Your will? nay, farewell softness then. [_They suddenly draw_

_3._ This I foresaw.

_2._ Hold, hold.

_Cæsar._ I am hurt.

_2._ Shift for your self, 'tis death.

_Men._ As you respect me, bear him off with care,

If he miscarry since he did the wrong,

I'll stand the shock of't.

_2._ Gently, he will faint else.-- [_Exeunt_ Gent. _with_ Cæsario.

_Ment._ And speedily, I beseech you; my rage over,

That pour'd upon my reason clouds of error,

I see my folly, and at what dear loss

I have exchang'd a real innocence,

To gain a meer fantastical report,

Transported only by vain popular wind,

To be a daring, nay, fool-hardy Man.

_Enter_ Baptista.

But could I satisfie my self within here,

How should I bear my fathers frown? They meet me,

My guilt conjures him hither.

_Bap._ Sirrah:

_Mentiv._ Sir:

_Bap._ I have met the trophies of your ruffian sword:

Was there no other Anvile to make triall

How far thou durst be wicked, but the bosome

Of him, which under the adulterate name

Of friendship, thou hast murder'd.

_Ment._ Murder'd Sir?

My dreams abhor so base a fact; true valour

Imploy'd to keep my reputation fair

From the austerest Judge, can never merit

To be branded with that title; you begot me

A man, no coward; and but call your youth

To memory, when injur'd, you could never

Boast of the Asses fortitude, slave-like patience:

And you might justly doubt I were your son,

If I should entertain it; if _Cæsario_

Recover, as I hope his wound's not mortal,

A second tryal of what I dare doe

In a just cause, shall give strong witness for me

I am the true heir to _Baptista's_ courage,

As to his other fortunes.

_Baptist._ Boy, to neither:

But on this strict condition, which intreaties

From Saints, nay Angels, shall not make me alter.

A friendship so began, and so continu'd

Between me and _Alberto_ my best friend,

Your brawls shall not dissolve; it is my will,

And as I am thy Father, I command thee,

That instantly, on any termes, how poor

So e'er, it skills not, thou desire his pardon,

And bring assurance to me, he has sign'd it,

Or by my Fathers soul I'll never know thee:

But as a stranger to my blood; perform it,

And suddenly, without reply, I have said it.

_Ment._ And in it given a heavier sentence on me

Than the most cruel death; you are my father

And your will to be serv'd, and not disputed

By me, that am your Son: But I'll obey,

And though my heart-strings crack for't, make it known,

When you command, my faculties are your own. [_Exeunt._

Actus Secundus. Scæna Prima.

_Enter_ Alberto, Physitian, _and a_ Chirurgion.

_Phys._ Have patience, Noble Sir; your son _Cæsario_

Will recover without question.

_Surgeon._ A slight wound.

Though it pierc't his body, it hath miss'd the vitals.

_Phys._ My life for't, he shall take the air again within

these ten dayes.

_Alber._ O but from a friend,

To receive this bloody measure from a friend!

If that a man should meet a violent death,

In a place where he had taken sanctuary,

Would it not grieve him? such all _Florence_ held

Their friendship, and 'tis that which multiplies

The injury.

_Physi._ Have patience worthy Signior.

_Alber._ I do protest, as I am Man and Soldier,

If I had buried him in a wave at Sea,

(Lost in some honorable action)

I would not, to the saltness of his grave,

Have added the least tear; but these quarrels

_Enter_ Mariana, _and_ Clarissa.

Bred out of game and wine, I had as live

He should have died of a Surfet.

_Maria._ Oh what comfort! How is it with our Son Sir?

_Alber._ His Work-masters

Bear me in hand here, as my Lawyer does,

When I have a crackt Title, or bad Sute in Law,

All shall go well.

_Maria._ I pray you Gentlemen, what think you of his wound.

_Physi._ 'Tis but a scratch, nothing to danger.

_Claris._ But he receiv'd it from a friend,

And the unkindness ta'en at that, may kill him.

_Mari._ Let me see him:

_Physi._ By no means, he slumbers.

_Mari._ Then I cannot believe you,

When you tell me there's hope of him.

_Alber._ Yet many Ladies

Do give more faith to their Physitian

Than to their Confessor.

_Claris._ O my poor lost brother,

And friend more dear than Brother.

_Alber._ More loud instruments

To disturb his slumbers! goe, goe, take Caroch:

And as you love me, you and the Girle retire

To our Summer house, i'th' Country; I'll be with you

Within these two days.

_Maria._ I am yours in all things,

Though with much sorrow to leave him. [_Exeunt_ Maria, Claris.

_Alber._ I pray you Gentlemen,

With best observance tend your Patient;

The loss of my heir-male, lies now a bleeding.

_Enter_ Mentivole.

And think what payment his recovery

Shall show'r upon you,

Of all men breathing; [_Exeunt_ Physitian, Chirur.

Wherefore do you arrive here? Are you mad?

My injury begins to bleed afresh

At sight of you; why this affront of yours

I receive more malitious than the other.

Your hurt was only danger to my son:

But your sight to me is death; Why come you hither?

Do you come to view the wounds, which you have made?

And glory in them?

_Menti._ Rather worthy Sir, to pour Oyl into them.

_Alber._ I am a Soldier Sir,

Least part of a Courtier, and understand

By your smooth Oyl,

Your present flattery.

_Menti._ Sir, for my Fathers sake acknowledge me

To be born a Gentleman, no slave; I ever

Held flatterers of that breed; do not misconstrue

In your distaste of me, the true intent

Of my coming hither, for I do protest

I do not come to tell you I am sorry

For your sons hurt.

_Alber._ Not sorry?

_Menti._ No not sorry; I have to the lowest ebbe, lost all my fury:

But I must not lose my honesty; 'twas he

Gave heat unto the injury, which return'd

(Like a Petar, ill lighted, into 'th' bosome

Of him, gave fire to't) yet I hope his hurt,

Is not so dangerous, but he may recover;

When if it please him, call me to account,

For the loss of so much blood, I shall be ready

To do him noble reason.

_Alber._ You are arm'd me thinks with wondrous confidence.

_Menti._ O with the best Sir;

For I bring penitence, and satisfaction.

_Alber._ Satisfaction? Why I heard you say but now,

You were not sorry for his wounds.

_Menti._ Nor am I: the satisfaction which I bring Sir, is to you;

You are a Gentleman ne'er injur'd me;

One ever lov'd my Father, the right way,

And most approv'd of noble amity.

Yet I have run my sword quite through your heart,

And slightly hurt your son; for't may be [f]ear'd,

A grief ta'en at these years for your sons loss,

May hazard yours: And therefore I am sent

By him that has most interest in your sorrow;

Who having chid me almost to the ruin

Of a disheritance, for violating

So continued and so sacred a friendship

Of 50 Winters standing: such a friendship,

That ever did continue like the spring;

Ne'er saw the fall o'th' leaf; by him I am sent

To say the wrong I have done Sir, is to you:

And that I have quite lost him for a Father,

Until I find your pardon; nay there follows

A weightier deprivation; his Estate

I could with a less number of sighs part with.

Fortune might attend my youth, and my deservings

In any Climate: but a Fathers blessing,

To settle and confirm that fortune, no where;

But only here. Your pardon, give me that;

And when you have done, kill me; for 'tis that

Takes from me the effect of excommunication;

A Fathers heavy curse.

_Alber._ Nay, may that curse

Light on himself, for sending thee in this minute:

When I am grown as deaf to all compassion,

As the cruellest Sea-fight, or most horrid tempest.

That I had drown'd i'th' Sea a thousand duckets,

Thou hadst not made this visit: rash young man,

Thou tak'st me in an ill Planet, and hast cause

To curse thy Father; for I do protest,

If I had met thee in any part o'th' World,

But under my own roofe, I would have kill'd thee.

_Within there._--_Enter_ Physitian, Chirurgion,

_and_ Servants.

Look you!

Here's a triumph sent for the death of your young Master.

_Serv._ Shall we kill him?

_Alber._ No, I'll not be so unhospitable; but Sir,

By my life, I vow to take assurance from you,

That right hand never more shall strike my son.

_Menti._ That will be easily protested.

_Alber._ Not easily, when it must be exacted, and a bloody seal to't.

Bind him, and cut off's right hand presently:

Fair words shall never satisfie foul deeds.

Chop's hand off.

_Menti._ You cannot be so unrighteous, to your own honor.

_Phy._ O Sir, collect your self;

And recall your bloody purpose.

_Alber._ My intents of this nature, do ever come to action.

_Chirur._ Then I must fetch another stickler.-- [_Exit._

_Alber._ Yet I do grieve at heart;

And I do curse thy Father heartily,

That's the cause of my dishonor; sending thee

In such an hour, when I am apt for mischief:

Apt, as a Dutchman after a Sea-fight,

When his enemy kneels afore him; come dispatch.

_Phys._ Intreat him, Noble Sir.

_Menti._ You shall excuse me;

Whatsoever he dares do, that I dare suffer.

_Enter_ Cæsario, _and_ Chirurgion.

_Cæsar._ Oh Sir, for honors sake stay your foul purpose,

For if you do proceed thus cruelly,

There is no question in the wound you give him,

I shall bleed to death for't.

_Alber._ Thou art not of my temper,

What I purpose, cannot be alter'd.

_Serv._ Sir; the Duke

With all speed expects you. You must instantly

Ship all your followers, and to sea.

_Alber._ My blessing stay with thee upon this condition,

Take away his use of fighting; as thou hop'st

To be accounted for my son, perform't.-- [_Exit._

_Cesar._ You hear what I am injoyn'd to.

_Menti._ Pray thee take it,

Only this ring, this best esteem'd Jewel:

I will not give't to'th' hangman chops it off;

It is too dear a relique. I'll remove it nearer my heart.

_Cæsar._ Ha, that Ring's my Sisters.

The Ring I injoyn'd her never part withal

Without my knowledge; come, Sir, we are friends

Pardon my fathers heat, and melancholy;

Two violent Fevers which he caught at Sea,

And cannot yet shake off: only one promise

I must injoyn you to, and seriously.

Hereafter you shall never draw a Sword

To the prejudice of my life.

_Menti._ By my best hopes I shall not.

_Cæsar._ I pray deliver me your sword

On that condition.

_Menti._ I shall Sir, may it hereafter

Ever fight on your part.

_Cæsar._ Noble Sir, I thank you;

But for performance of your vow, I intreat

Some gage from you.

_Menti._ Any Sir.

_Cæsar._ Deliver me that ring.

_Menti._ Ha, this Ring? indeed this Jewel binds me,

If you knew the vertue of it, never more

To draw my sword against you.

_Cæsar._ Therefore I will have it.

_Menti._ You may not.

_Cæsar._ Come: you must.

I that by violence could take your hand,

Can inforce this from you; this is a token Sir,

That we may prove friends hereafter. _Fare you well._

_Phys._ Why did you ceise his Sword Sir?

_Cesar._ To perform what my Father bade me,

I have for the present ta'en away his

Use of fighting.

_Phys._ Better so,

Than take that which your Father meant. [_Exeunt_ Manet, Mentivole.

_Menti._ Was ever the like usage? O that Ring!

Dearer than life, Whither is honor fled?

_Cesario._ Thou art unmanly in each part,

To seize my sword first, and then split my heart. [_Exit._

_Enter_ Host, _and_ Clown.

_Host._ Thy Master that lodges here in my Osteria,

Is a rare man of art, they say he's a Witch.

_Clow._ A Witch? Nay, he's one step of the Ladder to preferment

higher, he is a Conjurer.

_Host._ Is that his higher title?

_Clow._ Yes, I assure you, for a Conjurer is the Devils Master,

and commands him; whereas a Witch is the Devils Prentice, and

obeys him.

_Host._ Bound Prentice to the Devil!

_Clow._ Bound and inroll'd I assure you, he cannot start; and

therefore I would never wish any Gentleman to turn Witch.

_Host._ Why Man?

_Clow._ Oh he loses his Gentility by it, the Devil in this case

cannot help him, he must go to the Herald for new Armes believe

it.

_Host._ As I am true Inkeeper, yet a Gentleman born,

I'll ne'er turn Witch for that trick;

And thou hast been a great Traveller?

_Clow._ No indeed, not I Sir.

_Host._ Come, you are modest.

_Clow._ No, I am not modest, for I told you a lye, that you

might the better understand I have been a Traveller.

_Host._ So Sir, they say your Master is a great Physitian too.

_Clow._ He was no fool told you that, I assure you.

_Host._ And you have been in _England_? but they say,

Ladies in _England_ take a great deal of Physick.

_Clow._ Both wayes on my reputation.

_Host._ So 'tis to be understood:

But they say, Ladies there take Physick for fashion.

_Clow._ Yes Sir, and many times dye to keep fashion.

_Host._ How? dye to keep fashion!

_Clow._ Yes, I have known a Lady sick of the small Pocks, onely

to keep her face from Pitholes, take cold, strike them in

again, kick up the heels, and vanish.

_Host._ There was kicking up the heels with a witness.

_Clow._ No Sir; I confess a good face has many times been the

motive to the kicking up of the heels with a witn[e]ss: but

this was not.

_Enter_ Hostess, _and_ Bianca.

_Host._ Here comes my wife and daughter.

_Clow._ You have a prety commodity of this night-worm?

_Host._ Why Man?

_Clow._ She is a pretty lure to draw custom to your ordinary.

_Host._ Do'st think I keep her to that purpose?

_Clow._ When a Dove-house is empty, there is cuminseed used

to purloine from the rest of the neighbors; in _England_ you

have several Adamants, to draw in spurs and rapiers; one keeps

silk-worms in a Gallery: A Milliner has choice of Monkies, and

Paraketoes; another shewes bawdy East-Indian Pictures, worse

than ever were _Aretines_: a Goldsmith keeps his Wife wedged

into his shop like a Mermaid, nothing of her to be seen (thats

Woman) but her upper part.

_Host._ Nothing but her upper part?

_Clow._ Nothing but her upper bodies, and he lives at the more

hearts ease.

_Host._ What's the reason?

_Clow._ Because her nether part can give no temptation; by your

leave, Sir, I'll tend my Master, and instantly be with you for

a cup of _Cherally_ this hot weather.

_Host._ A nimble pated Rascal, come hither Daughter,

When was _Cesario_ here?

_Bian._ Sir, not this fortnight.

_Host._ I do not like his visits, commonly

He comes by Owl-light, both the time and manner

Is suspitious; I do not like it.

_Bian._ Sir, the Gentleman

Is every way so noble, that you need not

Question his intent of coming, though you did;

Pray Sir preserve that good opinion of me,

That though the custome of the place I was born in,

Makes me familiar to every guest,

I shall in all things keep my self a stranger

To the vices they bring with them.

_Hostis._ Right my daughter:

She has the right strain of her Mother.

_Host._ Of her Mother?

And I would speak, I know from whence she took it;

When I was as young, I was as honest.

_Hostess._ Leave your prating.

And study to be drunk; and abuse your guests over and over.

_Enter_ Forobosco, _and_ Clown.

_Host._ Peace Wife. My honorable guest.

_Foro._ My indear'd Landlord?

And the rest o'th' complements o'th' house.

_Host._ Breakfast is ready Sir;

It waites only the tide of your stomach.

_Clow._ And mine gapes for't like a stale Oyster.

Ere you go to bed, fail not of that I pray.

[--_Exeunt all but_ Forobosco, _and_ Clown.

_Foro._ We will instantly be with you;

Now we are all fellows.

Nine a Clock, and no Clyents come

Yet, sure thou do'st not set up bills enough.

_Clow._ I have set up bills in abundance.

_Foro._ What Bills?

_Clow._ Marry for curing of all diseases,

Recovery of stoln goods,

And a thousand such impossibilities.

_Foro._ The place is unlucky.

_Clow._ No certain, 'tis scarcity of mony; do not you hear

the Lawyers complain of it? Men have as much Malice as

ever they had to wrangle, but they have no Mony: Whither

should this Mony be travell'd?

_Foro._ To the Devil I think.

_Clow._ 'Tis with his Cofferer I am certain, that's the Usurer.

_Foro._ Our cheating does not prosper so well as it was wont to

do.

_Clow._ No sure, why in _England_ we coo'd cozen 'em as

familiarly, as if we had travell'd with a Brief, or a Lottery.

_Foro._ I'th' Low-countries we did pretty well.

_Clow._ So so: as long as we kept the Mop-headed butter-boxes

sober; marry when they were drunk, then they grew buzards: You

should have them reel their heads together, and deliberate;

your _Dutchman_ indeed, when he is foxt, is like a Fox; for

when he's sunk in drink, quite earth to a Mans thinking, 'tis

full Exchange time with him, then he's subtlest; but your

_Switzer_, 'twas nothing to cheat him.

_Foro._ Nothing?

_Clow._ No, nor conscience to be made of it; for since nature

afore-hand cozen'd him of his wit, 'twas the less sin for us to

cozen him of his Mony.

_Foro._ But these _Italians_ are more nimble-pated, we must

have some new trick for them; I protest but that our Hostess's

daughter is a sweet Lass, and draws great resort to'th' house,

we were as good draw teeth a horseback.

_Clow._ I told 'em in the Market-place you could conjure, and

no body would believe me: but ere long I will make 'em believe

you can conjure with such a figuary.

_Foro._ What language shall's conjure in? high _Dutch_ I think,

that's full i'th' mouth.

_Clow._ No, no, _Spanish_, that roars best; and will appear

more dreadful.

_Foro._ Prethee tell me thy conceit thou hast to gull them.

_Clow._ No, no, I will not stael it; but my dear Jews-trump,

for thou art but my instrument, I am the plotter, and when

we have cozen'd 'em most titely, thou shalt steal away the

Inn-keepers daughter, I'll provide my self of another moveable:

and we will most purely retire our selves to _Geneva_.

_Foro._ Thou art the compass I sail by.

_Enter_ Baptista _and_ Mentivole.

_Bap._ Was ever expectation of so Noble

A requital answered with such contumely!

A wild _Numidian_ that had suck'd a Tigress,

Would not have been so barbarous; Did he threat

To cut thy hand off?

_Ment._ Yes Sir, and his slaves were ready to perform't.

_Bapt._ What hind'red it?

_Ment._ Only his sons intreaty.

_Bapt._ Noble youth,

I wish thou wert not of his blood; thy pitty

Gives me a hope thou art not.

_Ment._ You mistake Sir,

The injury that followed from the son,

Was worse than the fathers; he did first disarme

And took from me a Jewel, which I prize

Above my hand or life.

_Bap._ Take thy sword from thee?

He stole it like a Thief rather, he could not

I'th' Field deprive thee of it.

_Ment._ He took it from me,

And sent me forth so thin, and so unmade up,

As if I had been a Foot-boy.

_Bap._ O my fury!

I must now ask thee forgiveness, that my rashness,

Bred out of too much friendship, did expose thee

To so eminent a danger; which I vow

I will revenge on the whole Family:

All the calamities of my whole life,

My banishment from _Genoa_, my wifes loss

Compar'd to this indignity, is nothing;

Their Family shall repair't; it shall be to them

Like a plague, when the Dog-star reigns most hot:

An _Italian's_ revenge may pause, but's ne'er forgot. [_Exit._

_Ment._ I would I had conceal'd this from my Father,

For my interest in _Clarissa_; my care now

Must be to untangle this division,

That our most equal flames may be united;

And from these various and perturbed streames,

Rise, like a sweet Morn, after terrible dreams.-- [_Exit._

_Enter_ Clarissa _and_ Cæsario.

_Clar._ Brother, I am happy in your recovery.

_Cæs._ And I Sister, am ever best pleased in your happiness:

But I miss a toy should be on your finger.

_Clar._ My Ring; this morning when I wash't

I put it off, 'tis in my Window.

_Ces._ Where's your Looking-glass?

_Clar._ Here, Sir.

_Ces._ 'Tis a fair one.

_Clar._ 'Tis pure Chrystal.

_Ces._ Can a Diamond cut in Crystal? let me see,

I'll grave my name in't.

_Clar._ Oh, you'll spoyl my glass.

Would you not have your brother in your eye?

_Ces._ I had thought he had been Planted in your heart,

Look you, the Diamond cuts quaintly, you are cozen'd,

Your Chrystal is too britle.

_Clar._ 'Tis the Ring

I gave unto _Mentivole_, sure the same.

You put me to amazement Sir, and horror;

How came you by that Ring?

_Ces._ Does the blood rise?

_Clar._ Pray Sir resolve me, O for pitty do;

And take from me a trembling at the heart,

That else will kill me: for I too much fear

Nothing but Death could ravish it from his hand

That wore it.

_Cesar._ Was it given to _Mentivola_ on that condition?

_Clar._ Tell me of his health first.

And then I'll tell you any thing.

_Cesar._ By my life he's well,

In better health than I am.

_Clar._ Then it was Sir.

_Cesar._ Then shall I ever hate thee, Oh thou false one;

Hast thou a Faith to give unto a friend,

And break it to a brother? Did I not,

By all the tyes of blood importune thee

Never to part with it without my knowledge?

Thou might'st have given it to a Muliter,

And made a contrail with him in a stable,

At as cheap a price of my vengeance: never more

Shall a Womans trust beguile me; You are all

Like Relicks: you may well be look't upon,

But come a Man to'th' handling of you once,

You fall in pieces.

_Clar._ Dear Sir, I have no way

Look't either beneath reason, or my self,

In my election; there's parity in our blood,

And in our fortunes, antient amity

Betwixt our parents: to which wants nothing,

But the Fruit of blest Marriage between us,

To add to their posterities: nor does now

Any impeachment rise, except the sad

And unexpected quarrel, which divided

So noble, and so excellent a friendship,

Which as I ne'er had Magick to foresee,

So I could not prevent.

_Cæsar._ Well, you must give me leave

To have a hand in your disposing, I shall,

In the absence of my Father, be your Guardian;

His Suit must pass through my office. _Mentivole_,

He has too much of my blood already; he has,

And he get's no more of't--

Wherefore weep you Mother?

_Enter_ Mariana, _and a_ Sailor.

_Marian._ 'Tis occasion'd by a sorrow,

Wherein you have a Child's part, and the mainest,

Your Father's dead.

_Cæsar._ Dead?

_Marian._ There's one can relate the rest.

_Sailor._ I can Sir, your Father's drown'd,

Most unfortunately drown'd.

_Cæsar._ How? In a tempest?

_Sailor._ No Sir, in a calm,

Calm as this evening; the Gunner being drunk,

Forgot to fasten the Ordnance to their ports,

When came a sudden gust, which tumbled them

All to the Starboord side, o'erturn'd the Ship,

And sunk her in a moment, some six men

That were upon the deck were sav'd: the rest

Perish'd with your Father.

_Claris._ O my dearest Father--

_Cesar._ I pray thee leave us.

_Maria._ I have a sorrow of another nature, equal to the former.

_Cesar._ And most commonly they come together.

_Maria._ The Family of the _Baptisti_

Are grown to faction, and upon distast

Of the injury late offer'd in my house,

Have vow'd a most severe, and fell revenge

'Gainst all our family, but especially

'Gainst you my dear _Cæsario_.

_Cæsar._ Let them threat, I am prepar'd to oppose them.

_Maria._ And is your loss then

Of so easie an estimation? What comfort

Have I but in your life, and your late danger

Presents afore me what I am to suffer,

Should you miscarry; therefore I'll advise you

When the Funeral is over, you would travel,

Both to prevent their fury, and wear out th' injury.

_Cæsar._ No Mother, I will not travel,

So in my absence he may marry my Sister,

I will not travel certain.

_Maria._ O my _Cesario_,

Whom I respect and love 'bove my own life,

Indeed with a kind of dotage, he shall never

Go forth o' doors, but the contrary faction

Will indanger's life, and then am I most wretched.

I am thinking of a strange prevention,

Which I shall witness with a bleeding eye,

Fondness sometimes is worse than cruelty.-- [_Exeunt._

Actus Tertius. Scæna Prima.

_Enter_ Host, Hostess, _and_ Bianca.

_Host._ Haunted, my house is haunted with goblins. I shall

be frighted out of my wits, and set up a sign only to invite

Carriers and Foot-posts; scar-crows to keep off the Cavalry,

and Gentry of the best rank. I will nail up my doors, and wall

up my Girle (wife) like an Anchoress; or she will be ravisht

before our faces, by rascalls and cacafugo's (wife) cacafugo's.

_Hostess._ These are your In-comes, remember your own proverb,

the savor of every gain smelt sweet; thank no body but your

self for this trouble.

_Host._ No gauling (dear Spouse) no gauling, every days

new vexation abates me two inches in the waste, terrible

pennance for an Host, Girle, girle, girle, Which of all this

gally-maufry of Mans flesh appears tolerable to thy choice;

speak shortly, and speak truely: I must and will know, must and

will; Hear ye that?

_Bian._ Sir, be not jealous of my care and duty;

I am so far from entertaining thoughts

Of liberty, that much more excellent objects

Than any of such course contents as these are,

Could not betray mine eye to force my heart;

Conceive a wish of any dearer happiness

Than your direction warrant's. I am yours Sir.

_Hostess._ What thinks the Man now? Is not this strange at 13.

_Host._ Very good words, there's a tang in e'm, and a sweet

one, 'tis musick (wife) and now I come t'ee. Let us a little

examine the several conditions of our Paragraphistical suitors.

The first, a travelling Tailor, who by the mystery of his

Needle and Thimble, hath survey'd the fashions of the French,

and English; this Signior Ginger-bread, stitcht up in the

shreds of a g[a]udy outside, sows Linings with his cross-leg'd

complement, like an Ape doing tricks over a staffe, cringes,

and crouches, and kisses his forefinger.

_Hostess._ Out upon him.

_Host._ A second, a lavolteteere, a saltatory, a dancer with

a Kit at his Bum, one that, by teaching great _Madonnas_ to

foot it, has miraculously purchast a ribanded Wastcote, and

four clean pair of socks; a fellow that skips as he walkes, and

instead of sensible discourse, vents the curious conceit of

some new tune stolen from a Mask, or a bawdy dittie, elevated

for the _Pole Artick_ of a Ladies chamber, in that file stands

another of your inamoratoes.

_Hostess._ Hang him and his Fiddle together, he never fidles

any child of ours.

_Host._ The third, a Mongrel, got by a _Switzer_ on an

_Italian_; this puppy, being left well estated, comes to

_Florence_, that the world may take notice, how impossible it

is for experience to alter the course of nature; a fool (wife)

and indeed, a Clown turn'd Gallant, seldom or never proves

other than a gallant fool, this toy prates to little purpose

other than What's a Clock? Shall's go drink? De'e forsooth? and

thank ye heartily; I fear no art in him to catch thee, and yet

we must be tormented with this buzard amongst the rest.

_Hostess._ 'Tis your own folly, forbid him the House.

_Host._ The fourth, a Mule-driver, a stubborn and a harsh

knave: the fifth a School-Master, a very amorous Pedant, run

almost mad with study of Sonnets, and Complements out of old

Play-ends, the last an Advocates Clerk, that speaks pure

Fustian in Law-terms: excellent Courtiers all, and all as neate

as a _Magnifio_'s post new painted, at his entrance to an

office; thou shalt have none of 'em. Laugh at 'em, do. I say

thou shalt have none of 'em.

_Bian._ Still your command to me shall stand a Law.

_Host._ Now they throng like so many horse-coursers at a

fair, in clusters about the Man of Art, for Love-powders,

ingredients, potions, counsels, postures, complements,

philters: the Devil and the--How now? Tumults? Batteries,

Noise? ha, get from my sight. [_Clown cries within._

_Enter_ Forobosco, _and_ Clown, _his head bloody_.

_Clow._ Murther me, do, pound me to Mummy, do; see what will come on't.

_Foro._ Dog, leave thy snarling, or I'll cut thy tongue out,

Thou un[l]ickt Bear, dar'st thou yet stand my fury,

My generous rage? yet! by the sulpherous damps

That feed the hungry and incessant darkness,

Which curles around the grim _Alastors_ back,

Mutter again, and with one powerful word,

I'll call an Host up from the _Stygian_ Lakes,

Shall waft thee to the _Acherontick_ fens;

Where choak't with Mists as black as thy impostures,

Thou shalt live still a dying.

_Clow._ Conjure me to the Devil and you can, I live in

Hell upon earth already, and you had any mercy, you would

not practice upon a kind heart thus.

_Host._ You have drawn blood from him Signior, Is his

offence unpardonable?

_Foro._ A lump of ignorance, pray speak not for him,

A drowsie grossness, in all Christian Kingdoms,

The mention of my art, my name, my practise,

Merit and Glory hath begot at once

Delight and wonder; I'll not be entreated;

Spare intercession for him,----O thou scorn

Of learning, shame of duty; must thy sloth

Draw my just fame in question? I discharge thee

From my service; see me no more henceforth.

_Clow._ Discharge me! Is that my years wages?

I'll not be so answer'd.

_Foro._ Not Camel? Sirrah I am liberal to thee;

Thou hast thy life, be gone.

_Clow._ Vengeance, sweet vengeance.

_Foro._ De'e mumble?

_Clow._ I'll be reveng'd, monstrously, suddenly, and

insatiably; my bulk begins to swell.

_Foro. Homotolenton_, _Pragmatophoros_, _Heliostycorax_.

_Clo._ Call up your Spirits, I defie 'em; well, I'll have Law

for my broken pate, twelve ounces of pure blood; _Troy_-weight.

In despight of thee my Master, and thy Master the grand Devil

himself, _vindicta_, _vindicta_.--[_Exit._

_Host._ Signior, you are exceeding mov'd.

_Hostess._ Mercy upon us, What terrible words thou talk'st?

_Foro._ A slave, a curr--but be not you afrighted

Young Virgin, 'twere an injury to sweetness:

Should any rough sound draw from your cheeks,

The pretious tincture which makes nature proud

Of her own workmanship.

_Host._ Wife, Mark, mark that Wife.

_Bian._ Shake then your anger off Sir.

_Foro._ You command it

Fair one, mine Host and Hostess, with your leaves

I have a motion joyntly to you all.

_Hostess._ An honest one I hope.

_Host._ Well put in Wife.

_Foro._ A very necessary one, the Me[s]s

And half of suitors, that attend to usher

Their Loves sir-reverence to your daughter, wait

With one consent, which can best please her eye;

In offering at a Dance, I have provided

Musick. And, 'twill be something I dare promise

Worthy your laughter, Shall they have admittance?

_Host._ By any means, for I am perswaded the manner will be so

Ridiculous, that it will confirm the assurance of their

Miserable fooleries, but no longer trouble with 'em here,

Than they are in these May-games.

_Foro._ So I am resolv'd.

_Hostess._ Nor any wise word of senceless love.

_Foro._ Not any; I have charm'd them, Did you see

How they prepar'd themselves? how they stroak up

Their foretops, how they justle for the Looking-glass,

To set their faces by it; [_See they Muster._

You would look for some most impossible antick.

_Enter_ Tailor, Dancer, Mule-driver, School-Master,

Clark: (_all with several papers, and present_

_'em to_ Forobosco.)

_Host._ So, so, so, so, here flutter the nest of Hornets, the

hotch-potch of rascallity; now, now, now, now, the dung-hill of

corruption hath yawn'd forth the burthen of abhomination. I am

vext, vext to the soul, will rid my house of this unchristen'd

fry, and never open my doors again.

_Foro._ Some other time, I'll give no answer now,

But have preferred your suits, here shew your cunning.

First, every one in order do his honor

To the fair mark you shoot at; courtly, courtly,

Convey your several loves in lively measure:

Come, let us take our seates, some sprightly Musick.

_Host._ Dance all and part, 'tis a very necessary farewell.

_Enter_ Cæsario, _They all make ridiculous conges to_

Bianca: _rank themselves, and dance in several_

_postures: during the dance, Enter_

Cæsario, _and stands off_.

_Host._ Well done my lusty bloods, precisely well done,

One lusty rouse of Wine, and take leave on all sides.

_Cesar._ Thanks for your Revels Gentlemen; accept

This Gold, and drink as freely as you danc'd.

_Host._ My noble Lord _Cesario_, clear the rooms Sirs.

_Foro._ Away. Attend your answers. [--_Exeunt_ Foro, _and those

that danc'd_.

_Cesar._ With your favor _Rolando_, I would change a word or

two with your fair daughter.

_Host._ At your Lordships pleasure, come Wife, no muttering,

have a care Girle, my love, service, and duty to your good

Lordship. [--_Exeunt and_ Wife.

_Cesar._ My often visits (sweet _Bianca_) cannot

But constantly inform thy judgment, wherein

Thy happiness consists, for to steal minutes

From great imployments, to converse with beauty,

Lodg'd in so mean a fortune, to lay by

Consideration of the unequal distance

Between my blood and thine, to shun occasions

Of courtship with the Ladies of the time:

Noble, and fair, only for love to thee,

Must of necessity invite a tenderness;

As low as nature could have stampt a Bondwomans.

To entertain quick motions of rare gratitude

For my uncommon favors.

_Bian._ 'Deed my Lord, as far as my simplicity can lead me,

I freely thank your curtesies.

_Cesar._ To thank them, is to reward them pretty one.

_Bian._ Then teach me

How I may give them back again; in truth

I never yet receiv'd a pair of Gloves:

A trifling Ring from any that expected

An equall satisfaction, but as willingly

I parted with the guift unto the owner, as he bestow'd it.

_Cæsar._ But I pour before thee

Such plenties, as it lies not in the ability

Of thy whole kindred, to return proportionable

One for a thousand.

_Bian._ You my Lord conclude

For my instruction, to ingage a debt

Beyond a possibility of paiment,

I ever thought a sin; and therefore justly

Without conceit of scorn, or curious rudeness,

I must refuse your bounty.

_Cesar._ Canst thou love?

_Bian._ Love! Is there such a word in any Language

That carries honest sence?

_Cesar._ Never dwelt ignorance

In so sweet-shap't a building: love, _Bianca_,

Is that firm knot which ties two hearts in one:

Shall ours be tied so?

_Bian._ Use a plainer word,

My Lord. In stead of tyes, say marries hearts,

Then I may understand.

_Cæsar._ Their hearts are married

Whose enterchange of pleasures, and embraces,

Soft kisses, and the privacies of sweets,

Keeps constant league together, when temptation

Of great mens oathes and gifts, shall urge contempt,

Rather than batter resolution, novelty

Of sights, or taste of new delights in wantonness,

Breeds surfeit more than appetite in any

Reserv'd to noble vowes; my excellent Maid,

Live thou but true to me, and my contents,

Mine only, that no partner may partake

The treasure of those sweets thy youth yet glories in,

And I will raise thy lowness to abundance

Of all varieties, and more triumph

In such a Mistris, than great Princes doating

On truth-betraying Wives.

_Bian._ Thus to yield up then

The cottage of my virtue, to be swallow'd

By some hard-neighbouring Landlord, such as you are,

Is in effect to love, a Lord so vicious!

O where shall innocence find some poor dwelling,

Free from temptations tyranny.

_Cesar._ Nay prethee.

_Byan._ Gay clothes, high feeding, easie beds of lust,

Change of unseemly sights; with base discourse,

Draw curses on your Pallaces; for my part,

This I will be confirm'd in, I will eate

The bread of labour, know no other rest

Than what is earn'd from honest pains, ere once more

Lend ear to your vile toyles; Sir, would you were

As noble in desires, as I could be in knowing virtue.

Pray do not afflict a poor soul thus.

_Cesar._ I swear ---- to me?-- [Bianca _steales off_.

_Enter a_ Gentleman.

_Gent._ The Duke my Lord commands your speedy presence

For answering agrievances lately urg'd

Against you by your Mother?

_Cesar._ By my Mother.

_Gent._ The Court is near on sitting.

_Cesar._ I wait on it Sir.-- [_Exeunt._

_Enter_ Duke, Magistrate, Secretary, Baptista, Attendants,

Mentivole: (_they sit_) Mentivole _stands by_.

_Duke._ What waste of blood, what tumults, what divisions,

What outrages, what uprores in a State,

Factions, though issuing from mean springs at first,

Have (not restrain'd) flowed to, the sad example

At _Rome_, between the _Ursins_ and _Columni's_:

Nay, here at home, in _Florence_, 'twixt the _Neers_

And the _Bianchi_, can too mainly witness.

I sit not at the Helm (my Lords) of Sovereignty

Deputed Pilot for the Common-wealth,

To sleep while others steere (as their wild fancies

Shall counsel) by the compass of disorders.

_Baptista_, This short Preface is directed

Chiefly to you, the petty brawls and quarrels

Late urg'd betwixt th' _Alberti_ and your family;

Must, yes, and shall, like tender unknit joynts,

Fasten again together of themselves:

Or like an angry Chyrurgion, we will use

The roughness of our justice, to cut off

The stubborn rancour of the limbes offending.

_Bap._ Most gracious _Florence_.

_Duke._ Our command was signified,

That neither of the followers of each party

Should appear here with weapons.

_Bap._ 'Tis obey'd Sir, on my side.

_Duke._ We must leave the general cause

Of State employments, to give ear to brawls

Of some particular grudges, pollitick government

For tutor'd Princes, but no more henceforth.

_Enter_ Mariana, _and_ Clarissa _at one door_, Cesario

_at the other_.

Our frown shall check presumption, not our clemency.

_Mari._ All blessings due to unpartial Princes,

Crown _Florence_ with eternity of happiness.

_Cesar._ If double Prayers can double blessings (great Sir)

Mine joyn for your prosperity with my Mothers.

_Duke._ Rise both; now briefly (Lady) without circumstance

Deliver those agrievances, which lately

Your importunity possest our Counsel,

Were fit for audience, wherein you petition'd,

You might be heard without an Advocate,

Which boon you find is granted.

_Mari._ Though divided.

I stand between the Laws of truth and modesty,

Yet let my griefs have vent: Yet the clearness

Of strange necessity requires obedience

To nature and your Mercy, in my weeds

Of mourning, emblems of too dear misfortunes,

Badges of griefs, and Widdowhood, the burthen

Of my charg'd soul, must be laid down before you;

Wherein, if strict opinion cancel shame,

My frailty is my plea;

Stand forth young Man,

And hear a story that will strike all reason

Into amazement.

_Cesar._ I attend.

_Mar. Alberto_ (peace dwell upon his ashes) still the husband

Of my remembrance and unchanging vowes,

Has, by his death, left to his heir possession

Of fair revenew, which this young man claimes

As his inheritance. I urg'd him gently,

Friendly, and privately, to grant a partage

Of this estate to her who ownes it all,

This his supposed Sister.

_Bap._ How supposed?

_Cesar._ Pray _Madam_ recollect your self.

_Mar._ The relish

Of a strange truth begins to work like Physick

Already: I have bitterness to mingle

With these preparatives, so deadly loathsome;

It will quite choak digestion; shortly hear it

_Cesario_, for I dare not rob unjustly

The poor soul of his name; this, this _Cesario_

Neither for Father had _Alberto_, me

For Mother, nor _Clarissa_ for his Sister.

_Claris._ Mother, O Mother.

_Ment._ I am in a Dream sure.

_Duke._ No interruptions. Lady on.

_Mari._ Mistake not,

Great Duke of _Tuscany_, or the beginning

Or process of this novelty; my husband

The now deceas'd _Alberto_, from his youth

In-ur'd to an impatiency, and roughness

Of disposition, when not many months

After our Marriage were worn out, repin'd

At the unfr[u]itful barrenness of youth,

Which, as he pleas'd to terme it, cut our hopes off

From blessing of some issue; to prevent it

I grew ambitious of no fairer honor

Than to preserve his love, and as occasions

Still call'd him from me, studied in his absence

How I might frame his welcome home with comfort.

At last I fain'd my self with Child; the Message

Of freedome, or relief, to one half starv'd

In prison, is not utter'd with such greediness

Of expectation, and delight, as this was

To my much affected Lord; his care, his goodness;

(Pardon me that I use the word) exceeded

All former fears, the hour of my deliverance

As I pretended, drawing near, I fashion'd

My birth-rights at a Country Garden-house,

Where then my Faulk'ners Wife was brought a bed

Of this _Cesario_; him I own'd for mine;

Presented him unto a joyful Father.

_Duke._ Can you prove this true?

_Mari._ Proofs I have most evident;

But oh the curse of my impatiency; shortly,

E'r three new Moons had spent their borrow'd Lights,

I grew with Child indeed, so just is Heaven,

The issue of which burthen was this Daughter;

Judge now most gracious Prince, my Lords and you,

What combats then, and since, I have indur'd,

Between a Mothers piety, and weakness

Of a Soul trembling Wife; to have reveal'd

This secret to _Alberto_, had been danger

Of ruin to my fame, besides the conflict

Of his distractions; now to have supprest it,

Were to defeat my Child, my only Child,

Of her most lawful honors, and inheritance.

_Cæsario_, th'art a Man still, Education

Hath moulded thee a Gentleman, continue so;

Let not this fall from greatness sink thee lower

Than worthy thoughts may warrant, yet disclaim

All interest in _Alberto's_ blood, thou hast not

One drop of his or mine.

_Duke._ Produce your witness.

_Marian._ The Faulconers Wife his Mother,

And such women as waited then upon me,

Sworn to the privacy of this great secret.

_Duke._ Give them all their Oaths.

_Cesar._ O let me crave forbearance, gracious Sir,

Vouchsafe me hearing.

_Duke._ Speak _Cæsario_.

_Cesar._ Thus long

I have stood silent, and with no unwillingness,

Attended the relation of my fall,

From a fair expectation; what I fear'd

(Since the first syllable this Lady utter'd

Of my not being hers) benevolent Fates

Have eas'd me off; for to be basely born,

If not base-born, detracts not from the bounty

Of natures freedom, or an honest birth.

Nobility claim'd by the right of blood,

Shewes chiefly, that our Ancestors desir'd

What we inherit; but that Man whose actions

Purchase a real merit to himself,

And rancks him in the file of praise and honor,

Creates his own advancement; let me want

The fuel which best feeds the fires of greatness,

Lordly possessions, yet shall still my gratitude

By some attempts, of mention not unworthy,

Endeavour to return a fit acquittance

To that large debt I owe your favours (Madam)

And great _Alberto's_ memory and goodness;

O that I could as gently shake off passion

For the loss of that great brave Man, as I can shake off

Remembra[n]ce of that once I was reputed;

I have not much to say, this Princely presence

Needs not too strictly to examine farther

The truth of this acknowledgment; a Mother

Dares never disavow her only son,

And any woman must come short of Piety,

That can, or dis-inherit her own issue,

Or fears the voice of rumor for a stranger.

Madam, you have confest, my Father was

A servant to your Lord and you: by interest

Of being his son, I cannot but claim justly

The honor of continuing still my service

To you and yours; which granted, I beg leave

I may for this time be dismist.

_Duke._ Bold spirit.

_Bap._ I love thee now with pitty.

_Duke._ Go not yet--

A sudden tempest that might shake a rock,

Yet he stands firm against it; much it moves me,

He, not _Alberto's_ son, and she a Widdow,

And she a Widdow,--Lords your ear.

_Omnes._ Your pleasure.-- [_Whispers._

_Duke._ So, Lady, what you have avouch'd is truth.

_Mari._ Truth only, gracious Sir.

_Duke._ Hear then our Sentence.

Since from his cradle you have fed and foster'd

_Cæsario_ as your Son, and train'd him up

To hopes of greatness; which now in a moment

You utterly again have ruin'd, this way

We with our Counsel are resolv'd, you being

A Widdow, shall accept him for a husband.

_Maria._ Husband to me, Sir?

_Duke._ 'Tis in us to raise him

To honors, and his vertues will deserve 'em.

_Maria._ But Sir, 'tis in no Prince, nor his Prerogative,

To force a Womans choice against her heart.