Scrib. This is a Juberly, a yeare of Joy, For chastity and spotles Inocens.

Tread. Shall I intreate you to receive them backe? Lett it bee made my woorke of charity.

Ashb. I knowe you woorthy, but that must not bee; Yet proove her, court her, with my free consent And use the best love's rethorick you can: If with the motion shee rest satisfied, And you pleas'd to accept her, it shall never Bee sayde you tooke a captyve to your bedd But a free woman.

Tread. Nobly have you spoake.

Raph. Fayre Mirable, the fyrst thinge I intreate you In which to expresse your love, speake for my frend.

Mir. And with my best of Oratory.

Raph.[157] Weel be all Assistants in the motion.

Ashb. If you prevayle, I in the absens of som nearer frend Have vowed to stand her father.

Clowne. Now, Sir, I have showed him you, but are you ever the wyser?

Thom. Ash. Peace, I am somwhat trobled. Oh tis hee, My brother; and those rude and violent gusts That to this strange Road thrust my shipp per force, And I but late for new disasters curst, Have with there light winges mounted mee aloft, And for a haven in heaven new harbord mee. Yet they but feede upon theire knowne delights; Anon I'l make them surfett.

Scrib. If to this frendly fayer society, I, a poore desolate virgin, so much bownd, Should putt you off with delatory trifles When you importune answer, t'would appeare In mee strange incivility: I am yours And, beeinge so, therefore consequently his.

Ashb. A match then! but, ere further you proceede, Resolve mee one thinge, Mildewe,—not as thou art Thyself, but as thou once weart made a Christian,— Knowest thou this made's descent, and parentadge?

Mild. I will resolve you lyke a convertite,[158] Not as the man I was: I knew there byrthes, But for myne owne gayne kept them still conceal'd.

Ashb. Now as thou hop'st of grace—

Mild. The nurse late dead That had these too in chardge, betrayde a shipboord And ravisht from her coontry, ere she expyr'd Nam'd her the doughter of Jhon Ashburne, marchant. Her I Palestra cal'd, shee Mirable; That, Winefryde, doughter to Thomas Ashburne Brother to the sayde Jhon, I cal'd Scribonia. They too are coosin germans.

Ashb. This our neece?

Thom. My doughter?

Pal. Partners in sorrowe, and so neere allyde, And wee till nowe neare knewe it!

Scrib. My deere coosin.

Ashb. Nay, I'l bee my woords mayster; reache your hands, And thoughe no nearer then an Unkle, once I'l playe the father's part.

Thom. Praye hold your hand, Syr; Heares one that will doo't for you.

Ash. Brother Thomas!

Thom. Peruse that letter, whilst I breathe these Joys, Impartinge these a most unlimitted love In equall distribution, doughter, neece, Brother, and frends; lett mee devyde amongst you A fathers, brothers, and a kinsman's yoake With all th'unmeasured pleasures and delights That thought of man can wishe you.

Ashb. Spare reply. These tell mee, that those bloodhounds who pursude My fall, my oppressinge creditors I meane, Are gone before to answer for my wronges, And in there deathes with due acknowledgment Of all theire violens doon mee; peace with them! That lykewyse by the deathe of a ritche alderman, My unkle, I am left a fayer estate In land, eight hundred by the yeare, in coyne Twenty fyve thousand pound. Make mee, oh heaven, For this greate blessinge gratefull! and not least To you my Indeer'd brother.

Thom. One thinge woonders mee That I should fynd you neare Marcellis heare, When I was aym'd for Florens; where your letters Inform'd mee you were planted.

Ashb. But even thither Those crewell men dog'd mee with such pursuit That theire I fownd no safety, but was forct To fly thence with that little I had left And to retyre mee to this obscure place; Where by the trade of fishinge I have lyv'd Till nowe of a contented competens. Those bates, hookes, lynes and netts for thy good servyce, Gripus, I nowe make thyne.

Grip. You are my noble mayster, and would I could have fownd more tricks then these in my budgett, they had bin all at your servyce.

Ashb. I purpose nowe for England, whether so please These gentlemen consort us with theire brydes.

Boathe. Most willingly.

Ashb. There you shall see what welcome Our London, so much spoake of heare in France, Can give to woorthy strangers.

Thom. Att my chardge Your shippinge is provyded, and at anchor Lyes ready in the roade.

Ashb. Oh happy storme That ends in such a calme!

Enter Godfreye in haste.

Godf. Staye, gentlemen, and see a dolefull sight; One ledd to execution for a murder The lyke hath scarce bin heard of.

Ash. Of the Fryar? In part we weare ey witness of the fact, Nor is our hast so great but wee maye staye To viewe his tragick end, whom the strickt lawe Hathe made a Just example.

Enter the Abbott, Fryar Richard, Shreeve and officers.

Abb. Upon thy trewe confession I have given thee Such absolution as the churche allowes. What hast thou else to saye ere thou art made To all men heare a wofull spectacle?

Fr. R. This only, that betwixt Fryar Jhon and mee Was ever hate and mallyce; and althoughe With no entent of murder, this my hand This most unfortnate hand, beereft his lyff, For which vile deede I mercy begge of Heaven, Next of the woorld, whom I offended too, Pardon and pitty. More to saye I have not: Heaven of my sowle take chardge, and of my body Dispose thou, honest hangeman.

Clown. Lasse, poore Fryar, and yet there's great hope of his sowle, for I canot spye one heyre betwixt him and heaven.

Fisher. And yet I dowbt hee will make but a bald reckninge of it.

Enter the Lord De Averne and his man Dennis.

Av. Staye the execution.

Abb. Our noble fownder out of his greate charity And woonted goodnes begg'd him a reprieve!

Av. Brought a reprieve I have: lett go the Fryar, And take from mee your warrant; I dischardge him.

Sherif. And yet, my Lord, 'tis fitt for our dischardge That the Kinge's hand bee seene.

Av. If not my woord Will passe for currant, take my person then, Or if you thinke unequall the exchaunge I tender my man's too to valewe his. Meanetyme dismisse him as one Innocent Of what hee is condemde.

Abb. By his owne mouthe Hee stands accus'd.

Av. And wetnes all of you, As frely I acquitt him.

Sher. Honored Syr, Praye bee more playne, wee understand you not.

Av. I'l make it playne then.

Cl. Now if thou bee'st wyse drawe thy neck out of the collar, doo, Slipp-stringe, doo.

Rich. Marry, with all my hart and thanke him too.

Av. Attend mee, reverend father, and you all Of this assembly: for som spleene conceiv'd Against the Fryar deceast, I strangled him; The cause why no man heare importun mee: For many reasons to my self best knowne I hold fitt to conceale it, but I murdered him In myne owne howse.

Abb. But by your Honor's favour How can that bee when Richard heere confest Hee slewe him in our cloyster?

Av. Heare me outt. At fyrst, untutcht with horror of the fact, My purpose was to laye the guilt elswhear And for that purpose caus'd my man to mount him Over the cloyster wall.

Denis. Which soone I did By th'helpe of a short ladder, sett him theire In a close-place and thoughe not of the sweetest Yet as I thought the safest; left him there.

Fr. R. Just in that place I found him, and imadgining He satt of purpose theire to despight mee, I hitt him with a stone, hee fell withall And I thought I had slayne him.

Dennis. But howe the Devill Gott hee into our porch? that woonders mee.

Fr. R. I fownd a ladder theire.

Den. The same I left.

Fr. R. Gott him upon my shoolders and by that Conveighd him back and left him in that porch, Wheare, as it seemes, you fownd him.

Av. This troblinge us, it drove us to newe plotts. We arm'd the Fryar, accoutred as you sawe, Mounted him on a stallion, lock't him fast Into the saddle, turn'd him forthe the gates To trye a second fortune.

Fr. R. Just at the tyme When, I beeinge mounted on the baker's mare, The gates weare sett wyde ope for mee to fly.

Abb. So that it seemes one beast pursuide the tother, And not the dead Fryar Richard.

Av. Howsoever, As one repentant for my rashnes past, And loathe to Imbrewe mee in more Innocent blood, I fyrst confesse my servant's guilt and myne, Acquitt the Fryar, and yeeld our persons upp To the full satisfaction of the lawe.

Enter the Lady Averne and her maid Mellesent.

Lady. Which, noble Sir, the Kinge thus mittigates: See, I have heare your pardon. In the tyme That you weare ceas'd with this deepe melancholly And inward sorrowe for a sinne so fowle, My self in person posted to the Kinge (In progresse not farr off), to him related The passadge of your busines, neather rose I From off my knees till hee had signd to this.

Av. Th'hast doon the offyce of a noble wyfe. His grace I'l not despyse, nor thy great love Ever forgett, and iff way may bee fownd To make least satisfaction to the dead, I'l doo't in vowed repentance.

Abb. Which our prayers In all our best devotions shall assist.

Ashb. All ours, great Syr, to boote.

Av. Wee knowe you well and thanke you.

Ashb. But must nowe Forsake this place, which wee shall ever blesse For the greate good that wee have fownd therein, And hence remoove for England.

Av. Not beefore All your successfull Joyes wee heare related To comfort our late sorrowes; to which purpose Wee invite you and your frends to feast with us. That granted, we will see you safe aboord: And as wee heare rejoyce in your affayers, Forget not us in England in your prayers.

[Exeunt.

FINIS.



INTRODUCTION TO THE COSTLIE WHORE.

The Costlie Whore, though not of the highest rarity, is a scarce play. It has never been reprinted, and thoroughly deserves on its own merits a place in the present collection. The conduct of the story is simple and straight-forward; the interest is well sustained; and the poetry has all the freshness and glow of youth.

The play bears some indications of having been written in 1613. In I. 2, where the Duke's brothers are devising schemes for enriching themselves at the state's expense, occurs the following passage:—

"Al. I have a commission drawne for making glasse. Now if the Duke come, as I thinke he will, Twill be an excellent meanes to lavish wood; And then the cold will kill them, had they bread.

Hat. The yron Mills are excellent for that. I have a pattent drawne to that effect; If they goe up, downe goes the goodly trees; Ile make them search the earth to find new fire."

The mention of the "yron Mills" appears to refer to the patent granted to Clement Daubigny for cutting iron into rods. On 13th March,[159] 1612-13, the Commissioners of Suits forwarded to the Lord Mayor a petition from Daubigny for the renewal of letters patent. They enclosed petitions from nailmakers and other smiths, shipmasters, shipowners, and shipwrights, from which it would appear that the iron imported from foreign parts was brittle and useless; and being themselves unable to judge accurately of the quality of iron, they directed the Lord Mayor to take the evidence of the Master and some of the Wardens of the Blacksmiths', Ironmongers', and Carpenters' Companies, of the Master and some of the Brethren of the Trinity House, and of any others that he might think fit to consult: after hearing the evidence, he was to draw up a statement of his own views and return Daubigny's petition. On 31st March the Lord Mayor addressed a letter to the Lords of the Council, in which he stated that from the evidence of the various witnesses he had been convinced that the patent would raise the price of iron, hinder the king in his customs, and further the decay of woods; and he added that the Flemish iron was for the most part good and tough. It will be observed that one of the objections raised by the Lord Mayor to the granting of the patent—namely that a great consumption of wood (as fuel for smelting the ore) would follow—is specially put forward by the dramatist. The mention in Alfred's speech of a scheme for glassmaking seems also to suggest 1613 as the date of authorship; for on 17th November of that year Sir Jerome Bowes and Sir Edward Zouch procured patents for making glass.[160]

There are other allusions that point to 1613. In II. 4, we find—"Make us for want coyn brasse and passe it current." The first patent for the coining of brass farthing-tokens was granted on 10th April, 1613, to John Stanhope, Lord Harrington; and the grant caused general dissatisfaction.[161] Again: in the same scene there is a reference to the exportation of broad cloth:—"I, an't please your honour, have a commoditie of good broad cloth, not past two hundred; may I shippe them over? and theres a hundred poundes." When we turn to the State Papers we discover that numerous complaints were made in 1613 about the exportation of undressed broadcloth. On 3rd March, 1612-13, the King forwarded to the Lords of the Council a petition from the clothworkers and dyers that the statutes against the exportation of undressed and undyed goods should be strictly enforced. I am inclined to think that these passages, taken collectively, afford strong proof that The Costlie Whore was written in 1613—twenty years before the date of publication.

In I. 2, we have the story of Bishop Hatto and the Rats told briefly but effectively. Mr. Baring-Gould in his Curious Myths of the Middle Ages has investigated the sources of the legend with much fulness. He refers us specially to Wolfius's Lect. Memorab., Lavingae, 1600, tom. i. p. 343. From the Stationers' Registers it appears that a ballad of The Wrathfull Judgement of God upon Bishop Hatto was licensed to H. Carre on 15th August, 1586. The dramatist has invested the story with the glamour of that poetical strangeness which is the very salt of such narrations:—

"Alf. He did proclaime reliefe unto the poore; Assembled them unto a private Barne, And, having lockt the doore, set it on fire, Saying hee'de rid the countrie of such Mice: And Mice and Rats have rid him from the World.

* * * * *

Duke. Could not this palace, seated in the Rheine In midst of the great River, (to the which No bridge, nor convay, other then by boats Was to be had) free him from vermine Rats?

Alf. Against their kind the land Rats took the water And swomme in little armies to the house, And, though we drownd and killed innumerable, Their numbers were like Hydra's heads increasing; Ruine bred more untill our brother died.

Duke. The house is execrable; Ile not enter.

Hat. You need not feare, my Lord; the house is free From all resort of Rats; for at his death, As if a trumpet sounded a retreat, They made a kind of murmure and departed."



THE COSTLIE WHORE.

A COMICALL HISTORIE,

Acted by the companie of the Revels.

LONDON Printed by Augustine Mathewes, for WILLIAM SHEARES, and HVGH PERRIE, and are to be sold at their shoppe, in Brittaines Burse. 1633.



The Actors Names.

Duke of Saxonie. Fredericke his sonne. Hatto, Brothers to the Duke. Al[f]rid, Montano, kinsman to the Duke. Euphrata, daughter to the Duke. Constantine, a lover of Euphrata. Otho, a friend to Constantine. Alberto, Two Lords. Reynaldo, Vandermas, a Pander. Valentia, the Costly Whore. Julia, a Gentlewoman to Euphrata. Two Maides. Petitioners. Beggers. Servants.



THE COSTLY WHORE.

[Act the First.]

[SCENE 1.]

Enter Constantine and Otho.

Constantine. How do'st thou like the lovely Euphrata?

Otho. I did not marke her.

Const. Then thou didst not marke The fairest Saxon Lady in mine eye That ever breath'd a maid.

Otho. Your minde now knowne, Ile say shee is the fairest in the world, Were she the foulest.

Con. Then thou canst dissemble.

Otho. You know I cannot; but, deare Constantine, I prethee tell me first, what is that Ladie, That wonder of her sexe, cal'd Euphrata? Whose daughter is she?

Const. I cannot blame thee, Otho, Though thou be ignorant of her high worth, Since here in Saxon we are strangers both; But if thou cal'st to minde why we left Meath, Reade the trice[162] reason in that Ladies eye, Daughter unto the Duke of Saxonie, Shee unto whom so many worthy Lords Vail'd Bonnet when she past the Triangle, Making the pavement Ivory where she trode.

Otho. She that so lightly toucht the marble path That leadeth from the Temple to the presence?

Const. The same.

Otho. Why, that was white before, White Marble, Constantine, whiter by odds Then that which lovers terme the Ivory hand, Nay then the Lillie whitenesse of her face.

Con. Come, thou art a cavilling companion: Because thou seest my heart is drown'd in love, Thou wilt drowne me too. I say the Ladie's faire; I say I love her, and in that more faire; I say she loves me, and in that most faire; Love doth attribute in Hyperbolies Unto his Mistris the creation Of every excellence, because in her His eies do dreame of perfect excellence.— And here she comes; observe her, gentle friend.

[Enter Euphrata.

Euph. Welcome, sweet Constantine.

Con. My Euphrata.

Euph. Thy Euphrata, be thou my Constantine. But what is he? a stranger, or thy friend?

Con. My second selfe, my second Euphrata. If thou beest mine, salute her, gentle Otho.

Otho. An humble and a true devoted heart I tender to you in a mindes chast kisse.

Euph. Welcome to me, since welcome to my friend.

Otho.—A beautiful, an admirable Ladie! I thinke 'tis fatall unto every friend Never to love, untill his friend first love, And then his choice; but sooner will I teare Out of this brest mine affection with my heart.

Euph. Hearing, sweet Constantine, thou wert so nere me, I came as I were winged to gaze on thee.

Con. And would to heaven there were no bar in time To hinder me from thy desired sight, But thousand sutors eyes, do watch my steps; And harke, I heare some trampling. How now, Julia?

Enter Julia.

Juli. Madam, the Lord Montano, spying you To leave the presence and to enter here, Hath ever since waited your comming foorth. And will not be denied untill he see you.

Euph. Of all my sutors, most importunate.

Con. What is he, love?

Euph. Of very noble birth, But my affection is not tyed to birth. I must dispense with this kind conference For some small time, untill I rid him hence. Therefore within my closet hide thy selfe; Your friend shall Julia guide into the garden, Where through a private doore, but seldome us'd, He may at pleasure leave us and returne. Deny me not I prethee, Constantine; Thou hast my heart, and would thy birth were such I need not feare t'avouch thee for my Love.

Otho. Madam, I take my leave. [Exit Otho.

Con. Farewell, deare friend, Returne as soone as may be; farewell Love. [Exit.

Euph. Now guide Montano hither.

Enter Montano.

Mon. Gracious Madam, I have seene the noble Palsgrave, the Prince Of Milleine, and the Palatine of the Rheine, With divers other honorable sutors, Mounted to ride unto their severall places.

Euph. Of me they took their farewell yesternight.

Mon. What meanes your grace to be so unkind to all? You drive away good fortune by disdaine.

Euph. Why are you grieving too?

Mon. I am your subject, The meanest that did humbly seeke your love, Yet not the meanest in affection; And I am come to take my farewell too.

Euph. Why, then farewell.

Mon. So short with them that love you?

Euph. Your journey may be great, for ought I know; And 'tis an argument of little love To be the hinderer of a traveller.

Mon. My journey, Madame, is unto my house, Scarce halfe a league hence, there to pine and die, Because I love such beauteous crueltie.

Euph. God speede you, sir.

Mon. Nay then I will not leave you. Madam, 'tis thought, and that upon good ground, You have shrin'd your affection in the heart Of some (whatere he be) noble or base, And thats the cause you lightlie censure[163] all.

Euph. Who thinkes it?

Mon. I doe, Madame, and your father.

Euph. It is upon my vowed chastitie.

Mon. What devill made you sweare to chastitie, Or have you tane that oath onely for a terme?

Euph. A terme, what terme?

Mon. A terme of some seven yeeres, Or peradventure halfe the number more.

Euph. For terme of life.

Mon. You have sworne, to be forsworne: He was no well disposed friend of yours That gave you consaile [sic] to forsweare such beautie. Why, 'tis as if some traveiler had found A mine of gold, and made no use of it. For terme of life! Why, then die presently; So shall your debt to nature be farre lesse, Your tyranny over man's yeelding heart Be lesse condemned. Oh, you were made for man, And living without man to murder men. If any creature be so fortunate That lives in grace of your all gracious selfe, Though I am well perswaded 'tis not I, I vow by all the rites of vertuous love, Be he ignoble, of the basest sort, To please you, Madame, Ile renounce my suite And be a speciall meane unto your father To grant your hearts affection, though I die.

Euph. Now, Lord Montano, you come neere my heart, And were I sure that you would keepe your word, As I am sure you love me by your deedes, I might perchance deliver you my thoughts.

Mon. By heaven and by your beauteous selfe I will.

Euph. Then, Constantine, come forth; behold thy friend.

Enter Constantine.

Con. Madame, what meane you, to reveale our love?

Mon. This is a very stubborne Gentleman. A Gentleman? a pesant! Saxonie, Affords not one more base.

Con. He does me wrong, That termes me meaner then a gentleman.

Mon. I tearme thee so.

Euph. Why, how now, Lord Montano? You do forget your oath.

Mont. And you your selfe, Your Princely father, and the Dukedomes honour, To chaine your liking to a groome so base.

Con. He lies that calles me groome.

Enter Julia.

Ju. O God, forbeare: His Excellence your father's comming hither.

Mon. He comes in happie time, to know the cause Why such great Princes have bin made your scorne.

Euph. What, will you tell him?

Mon. Will I? let me die Contemn'd of heaven, in publique obloquie, If I reveale not this lascivious course.

Ju. We are undone.

Con. Hence with this prating Maide. If thou hast any anger in thy brest Towards this Lady, turne it all on me. She is a woman, timerous by her kinde; I, man-like borne, and beare a man-like minde.

Mon. Ile trie your courage. [Draw.[164]

Euph. As thou fear'st my frowne, As thou hast hope to thrive in thy new choice, As thou respect'st the favour of the gods, Welfare in any action thou intends, Doe not reveale unto my fretfull father This humble choice that my high birth hath made.

Mon. Why, then forsweare him.

Euph. Sooner set thy feet Upon my breast, and tread me to the ground.

Ju. As thou art any thing more then a beast, Doe not procure my Ladie such disgrace.

Mon. Peace, bawde, Ile have no conference with you.

Euph. He cannot hurt me, 'tis my Love I feare. Although my father be as sterne as warre, Inexorable like consuming fire, As jealous of his honour as his crowne, To me his anger is like Zephires breath Cast on a banke of sommer violets, But to my Love like whirlewinde to a boate Taken in midst of a tumultuous sea.

Enter Duke of Saxonie and Fredericke.

Alas, he comes! Montano, prethee, peace. Courage, sweete Love.

Con. I see our love must cease.

Euph. Not if my wit can helpe; it shall goe hard But Ile prevent the traitor.

Mon. Heare me, my Lord.

Euph. Heare me, my gracious father.

Mon. Heare me, my liege: ther's treason in your Court, I have found a peasant in the Princesse closet; And this is he that steales away her honour.

Euph. This villaine, gracious father, 'tis that seekes To rob me of mine honor, you your daughter.

Mon. Now, as you are a right heroike Prince, Be deafe unto your daughters faire[165] words.

Euph. Be deafe to him, as you regard your selfe.

Duke. What strange confusion's this that cloyes our hearing?

Fred. Speake, beauteous sister, who hath done thee wrong?

Mon. Her self.

Euph. This traitor.

Fre. Lord Montano?

Euph. Hee.

Fred. Villaine, thou dyest.

Mon. Stay, she meanes Constantine, He that I found infolded in her closet, Reaping the honour which a thousand Lords Have fail'd in seeking in a lawful course.

Con. He does me wrong, my gracious soveraigne.

Ju. He wrongs my Ladie, an't please your grace.

Mon. Ile tell the trueth.

Euph. Or rather let me tell it.

Mon. Lacivious love is ever full of sleights.

Euph. Villaines, that seeke by treason their desires, Want no suggestion to beguile a trueth.

Mon. I say, I found this peasant in her closet Kissing, imbracing, and dishonouring her.

Euph. I say, an't please your gracious Excellence, I found this Gentleman within my closet, There set by subornation of this Lord, And here appointed to dishonor me. Speake, is't not true?

Con. True, if it please your grace.

Duke. What say you, strumpet?

Ju. Since my Ladie saies so, I say and't please your Excellence—

Duke. Speake, woman.

Ju. 'Tis very true.

Mon. O monstrous forgerie!

Fre. O more then falshood to become so smooth In such a dangerous action!

Duke. This is strange; Montano seeke the ruine of my daughter!

Euph. Because I would not yeeld unto his suite, Which he in rapefull manner oft hath sought, Hee set this Gentleman to doe me shame Intending by exclaimes[166] to raise the Court, But that repentance in my waiting Maide And of his sorrowfull selfe reveal'd the plot.

Mon. O ye gods, how am I over-reacht!

Duke. I know the yong man to be well discended, Of civill carriage and approved faith, How ere seduced to this enterprise.

Con. My conscience, would not propagate that plot.

Ju. Nor mine, my Lord, though gold corrupted me.

Mon.—Cleane from the byas! wit, by heaven rare wit! Ile tell another tale, if they have done.

Duke. What canst thou speake, vild[167] traitor? Thou seest thou art prevented in thy plot And therefore desperately coin'st any thing, But I am deafe to all such stratagems.

Mon. Will you not heare me?

Duke. Forgeries and lies. My daughters honour is of that high prize That I preferre it 'fore a traitors braine. Let it suffice, we know she hath deni'd thee And some denied (like devills) turne their love Into excrutiation of themselves And of the parties whom they have belov'd. Revenge begins where flatteries doe end; Being not her husband, thou wilt be no friend. Thus is thy policy by heaven prevented: Therefore henceforth we banish thee our Court; Our Court? our territorie, every place Wherein we beare the state of Royaltie. Urge no replie, the fact is plainely prov'd, And thou art hatefull where thou wert belov'd.

Mon. My gracious Lord—

Duke. We can afford no grace: Stay here, and reade thy ruine in my face.

Mon. I goe contented with this heavy doome; 'Twas mine owne seeking. Faire and wise, adiew; Deceit hath kil'd conceit, you know tis true. [Exit.[168]

Fre. An upright sentence of an act so vilde.

Duk. Remove this waiting virgin from your chamber, But let this gentleman attend on me. The best may be deceiv'd by trecherie.

Euph. Then so, my gracious father, may this maid.

Duke. Then let her keep her place; beware of gold, Honour's too precious to be baselie sold.— Now to our dying friend, his grace of Meath. Daughter, prepare you; you shall ride along, For to that end we came; come, sonne, to horse: Ere we come there, our friend may prove a coarse.

Euph.—Twas well done both, this action rarely fell; Where women trie their wits, bad plots prove well.

[Exeunt omnes.



[SCENE 2.]

Enter three Beggers.

1. Come away, fellow louse, thou art ever eating.

2. Have I not neede, that must feede so many Cannibals as will waite on me whether I will or no?

3. Heres one in my necke, I would 'twere on thy shoulder.

1. Keepe it your selfe, I have retainers enow of mine owne.

2. But whether are you going now?

1. Why, are you our King, and doe not know that?

2. Your King? I am a very roguish King and I hav a companie of lowsie subjects.

Enter Hatto and Alfrid conferring.

2. But looke about my ragged subjects, here comes somebody.

1. O the devills; shall we aske them an almes?

2. Why not? now the rats have eaten up their brother Bishop they will be more charitable; your vocation, you slaves.

3. For the Lord sake, be pittifull to a companie of poore men.

Hatto. What cry is this? beggars so neere the doore Of our deceased brother? whip them hence Or bring the Mastiffe foorth [to] worry them. They are lazie drones, 'tis pittie such should live.

1. I told you, my Lord, how we should find them; whip us! leade the way, soveraigne, weele none of your whipping.

Hat. Hence with these dogs! what make they neere this house?

2. He will be eaten with rats too, he looks like a piece of cheese alreadie.

Hat. You Rogues.

Alf. Good brother, stay your self from wrath; Thinke on the Bishop and his odious death.

Hat. What odious death, I pray?

Alf. Eaten with Rats, Whilest he was living, for the wrong he did Unto the poore, the branches of our God.

Hat. Tis true, and therefore, call the poore againe. Come hither, friends, I did forget my selfe. Pray for me, ther's some silver for thy wants.

2. Now the Lord blesse you and keep your good face[169] from being Mouse-eaten; wee came thinking wee should have some dole at the Bishops funerall, but now this shall serve our turne, wee will pray for you night and day.

Hat. Goe to the backe-gate, and you shall have dole.

Om. O the Lord save thee. [Exeunt Beggers.

Hat. These Beggers pray and curse both in a breath. Oh wherefore should we fawne upon such curres, The mice of mankind, and the scorne of earth?

Alf. So said our brother.

Hat. And he was a Bishop, Had read the Scripture and knew what he said.

Alf. But he hath bought[170] that saying with his death, With such a loathsome and notorious death As while the World's a World 'twill speake of Meath.

Hat. The Lord Archbishop of Meath, and die by Rats!

Alf. He did proclaime reliefe unto the poore; Assembled them unto a private Barne And, having lockt the doore, set it on fire, Saying hee'de rid the countrie of such Mice; And Mice and Rats have rid him from the World.

Hat. Well, Ile not hurt the poore so publikely, But privately I'le grinde their very hearts. Torture them living, and yet have their prayers, And by such meanes that few or none shall know it.

Al. In such a course Alfred would wind with you; For though I counsail'd you to be more calme, Twas not in pittie of their povertie But to avoide their clamour. To give nothing Will make them curse you: but to threaten them, Flie in your face, and spit upon your beard. No devill so fierce as a bread-wanting heart, Especially being baited with ill tearmes. But what course can you take to plague these dogges?

Hat. Why, buy up all the corne and make a dearth, So thousands of them will die under stalles.

Alf. And send it unto forraine nations To bring in toies to make the wealthy poore.

Hat. Or make our land beare woad[171] instead of wheate.

Al. Inclose the commons and make white meates deare.

Hat. Turne pasture into Park grounds and starve cattle, Or twentie other honest thriving courses. The meanest of these will beggar halfe a Kingdome.

Al. I have a commission drawne for making glasse. Now if the Duke come, as I thinke he will, Twill be an excellent meanes to lavish wood; And then the cold will kill them, had they bread.

Hat. The yron Mills are excellent for that. I have a pattent[172] drawne to that effect; If they goe up, downe goes the goodly trees; Ile make them search the earth to find new fire.

Alf. We two are brothers, and the Duke's our brother. Shall we be brothers in Commission? And Ile perswade him to authorize thee His substitute in Meath, when he enjoyes it.

Hat. Death, Ile get thee Regent under him In Saxonie, to oppresse as well as I. And we will share the profits, live like Kings, And yet seeme liberall in common things.

Al. Content: what, though the Rats devour'd our brother? Was not a Prophet murdered by a Lyon? King Herod died of Lice, wormes doe eate us all; The Rats are wormes, then let the Rats eate me. Is the dead course prepar'd?

Hat. Embalm'd and coffin'd; The Citie keyes delivered to my hands; We stay but onely for his Excellence.

Enter Constantine.

Con. The Duke is comming, if it please your honors.

Al. And he is welcome; let the trumpets sound.

[Second florish.

Enter Duke of Saxon, Euphrata, and Julia.

Hat. Welcome, thrice welcome, our renowned brother. Loe, at thy feete the Cittizens of Meath, By us their Agents, do lay downe the keyes, And[173] by this crownet and sword resign'd The state Maiestique to your Princely hands, Discended to you by our brothers death.

Duke. Then with your loves and persons we receive it.— Is then our brother the Archbishop dead?

Hat. Too true, my Lord.

Euph. I am sorry for my Uncle.

Hat. And of a death so publique by reporte.

Al. Devour'd by Rats, in strange and wonderous sort.

Duke. Could not this palace seated in the Rheine, In midst of the great River, (to the which No bridge, nor convay, other then by boats Was to be had,) free him from vermine Rats?

Alf. Against their kind the land Rats took the water And swomme in little armies to the house; And, though we drown'd and kild innumerable, Their numbers were like Hydra's heads increasing; Ruine bred more untill our brother died.

Duke. The house is execrable; Ile not enter.

Hat. You need not feare, my Lord; the house is free From all resort of Rats; for at his death, As if a trumpet sounded a retreat, They made a kind of murmure and departed.

Duke. Sure 'twas the hand of heaven, for his contempt Of his poore creatures.—But what writs are those?

Hat. Commissions (if it please your grace,) for glasse, For yron Mines, and other needful things.

Duke. Our selfe invested in the government, The Cities care shall lie upon your care.

Hat. Alfred our brother may awaite your grace In Saxony, so please you to command.

Duke. We are now but three, and lately have bin seven, We have cause to love each other; for my part, Betweene you both we give a brothers heart. Here or at Saxonie, command at pleasure; I weare the corronet, be yours the treasure.

Al. We thanke our brother.

Duke. Where's my sonne Fredericke?

Enter Fredericke with a glove.

Fre. Father, the state of Meath desire your grace To take the paines to passe unto the Senate.

Duke. What glove is that, son Fred., in your hand?

Fre. I found it, if it please your Excellence, Neere to the state-house: the imbroiderie Is very excellent, and the fashion rare.

Duke. I have not seene a prettier forme of hand. Daughter, let's see; is't not too bigge for you?

Euph. Sure 'tis some admirable worke of nature, If it fit any hand that owes[174] this glove, If all the rest doe parallel the hand.

Duke. Will it not on?

Euph. Not for a diadem; Ile trie no longer lest I shame my selfe.

Duke. Try, Julia.

Ju. My hand's bigger then my Ladies.

Duke. I cannot tell, but in my minde I feele A wondrous passion of I know not what.

Fre. The imbroidered glove may be some childs, no womans.

Duke. I should mistrust as much, but that this place Beares greater compasse then a childish hand. I must command it.

Fre. Willingly, my Lord.

Duke. Then to the state-house, brothers, leade the way: First our instalement [sic], then a funerall day.

[Exeunt Duke and brothers and Fred.

Enter Otho.

Otho. Yonder she goes, the mirrour of her sexe.— Stay, beauteous Euphrata.

Euph. Otho! what, Julia?

Ju. Here, madam! what's your will?

Euph. Call Constantine; Tell him his deare friend Otho is return'd.

Ju. I will.

Otho. Stay, Julia.

Euph. Doe as I bid you, goe. [Exit Julia.

Otho. I had rather have a word or twaine with you.

Euph. I have heard him oft enquire for thee his friend, I have heard him sigh, I have seene him weepe for thee, Imagining some mischiefe or distresse Had falne thee since the closets separation.

Otho.—And what a slave am I to wrong this friend!

Enter Constantine and Julia.

Con. Where is he?

Ju. Here.

Con. The welcom'st man alive. Unkind, how couldst thou stay from me so long?

Otho. I have bin ill at ease, pray pardon me; But I rejoyce to see my friend so well.

Euph. Some Ladies love hath made him melancholy.

Otho. Shee hath read the letter that I lately sent her In a pomegranat, by those words I hope.

Con. Why speake you not? is't love or melancholy?

Otho. If upon love my grief is melancholy?

Con. Ile have the best Phisitians here in Meath Assay by art to cure that maladie.

Euph. Gainst mellancholy minds your onely Phisick Our Saxon doctors hold that principle. Now I remember you did lately send me A choice pomegranate; fetch it, Julia. Some of those graines well stir'd in Gascoine wine Is present remedie.

Otho. Madam, Ile none: Of all fruits, that I hate.

Euph. And commended it So highly by the messenger that brought it!

Con. Twas well remembred, you shall take a graine.

Otho. You will but vexe me.

Con. So his melancholly Doth make him froward with his dearest friend.

Enter Julia with the pomegranate.

Tis well done, Julia, quickely cut it up; And bring a cup of wine, or let me doo't.

Otho. I see I shall be plagu'd with mine owne wit; Being asham'd to speake, I writ my minde.— Were you my friends, you would not martyr me With needlesse phisicke; fie upon this trash, The very sight is loathsome.

Con. Take it up: But let me see, what letter's that that dropt? Came it from you, or from the Spanish fruit?

Ju. Tis all the graines that the pomegranate had.

Con. Then theres some trechery within these graines: Ile breake it up. And tis directed to my Euphrata.

Euph. What may the tenure be? I pray thee read it.

[He opens the letter & reads.

Otho. O fall upon me some wind-shaken turret To hide me from the anger of my friend, O from his frowne! because he is my friend. Were he an enemie, I would be bold; But kindnes makes this wound. O, this horror! The words of friends, are stronger then their power.

Con. Withdraw, good Julia. [Exit Julia.

Euph. Pray, what is it, love?

Con. Tis love indeed to thee, but to my heart Every loose sentence is a killing dart. I brought this Gyges[175] to my hearts delight And he hath drown'd his senses with the sight. Except thy selfe, all things to him were free: Otho, thou hast done me more then injurie; Well maist thou fixe thy eye upon the earth, This action sith[176] breedes a prodigious birth: It is so monstrous, and against all kinde, That the lights splendor would confound thy minde.

Otho. I have offended, prethee pardon me.

Con. What cause did move thee?

Otho. Her all conquering sight.

Con. Couldst thou usurpe upon my well known right?

Otho. Thinke, I am flesh and blood, and she is faire.

Con. Thinke how I love thee.

Otho. There proceeds my care.

Con. Our amitie hath bin of ancient dayes, During which time wrong'd I thee any wayes?

Otho. Never.

Con. But rather I have done thee good.

Otho. I grant you have, O rather shed my blood Then number the kind deedes betweene us past.

[Con.] For this unkindnesse, here I love my last.

Euph. He doth repent, and will renounce his suite.

Otho. I doe renounce it.

Con. O thou canst not do't.

Otho. Suffer me stay a while in her faire sight, 'Twill heal my wound and all love banish quite.

Con. The sight of the belov'd makes the desire, That burnt but slowly, flame like sparkling fire. As thou dost love me, take thee to some place Where thou maist nere see her, nor I thy face.

Otho. By what is deere betwixt us, by our selves, I vow hencefoorth ten thousand deaths to prove Then be a hinderance to such vertuous love.

Con. Breake heart, tis for thy sake.

Otho. When I am dead O then forget that I haue injured.

Con. O hell of love!

Otho. Or rather hell of friends!

Con. Firmely till they love.

Otho. Then thus all friendship ends.

[Exeunt.



Actus Secundus.

[SCENE 1.]

Enter Duke, Fredericke, Hatto, and Alfred.

Hat. Good brother, heare some Musicke, twill delight you.

Al. Ile call the Actors, will you see a play?

Fre. Or, gracious father, see me runne the race On a light footed horse, swifter then winde.

Duke. I pray forbeare.

Al. This moode will make you mad, For melancholy ushers franticke thoughts.

Hat. It makes hot wreaking blood turne cold and drie, And drithe and coldnesse are the signes of death.

Duke. You doe torment me.

Fred. Is it anything That I have done, offends your grace?

Hat. Or comes this hidden anger from my fault?

Alf. Heres none but gladly would resigne his life To doe you pleasure, so please you to command.

Duke. Ifaith you are too [sic] blame to vexe me thus.

Hat. Then grounds this sorrow on your brothers death?

Fred. Or rather on the glove I lately found.

Duke. A plague upon the glove, whats that to me? Your prating makes me almost lunatike. As you respect my welfare, leave me leave me. The sooner you depart, the sooner I Shall finde some meanes to cure my maladie.

Fred. Our best course is to be obedient.

[Exeunt all but the Duke.

Duke. Farewell. Was ever slave besotted like to me! That Kings have lov'd those that they never saw Is nothing strange, since they have heard their praise; Birds that by painted grapes have bin deceiv'd Had yet some shadow to excuse their error; Pigmalion that did love an Ivory Nimph Had an Idea to delight his sence; The youth that doted on Minerva's[177] picture Had some contentment for his eye; [soft Musique. But love, or rather an infernall hagge, Envying Saxons greatnes and his joyes, Hath given me nothing but a trifling glove, As if by the proportion of the case Art had the power to know the jewels nature. Or Nimph, or goddesse, woman, or faire devill, If anything thou art, within my braine Draw thine owne picture, let me see thy face: To doate thus grossely, is a grosse disgrace. [Musique within. I heare some Musique: O ye Deities, Send you this heavenly consort[178] from the spheares To recreate a love-perplexed heart? The more it sounds, the more it refresheth. I see no instruments, nor hands that play; And my deare brothers, durst not be so bold. 'Tis some celestiall rapture of the minde, No earthlie harmonic is of this kinde. Now it doth cease: speake, who comes there?

Enter Fredericke, Alfred, and Hatto.

Fred. Father.

Duke. From whence proceeds the Musicke that I heard?

Fred. The beauteous and the famous Curtezan, Allyed unto the banished Montano, Admir'd Valentia, with a troope of youths This day doth keepe her yeerely festivall To all her suters, and this way she past Unto her Arbor, when the Musique plaide.

Duke. Admir'd Valentia! Curtezans are strange With us in Germanie; except her selfe, Being a Venetian borne and priviledg'd, The state allowes none here.

Fred. Twere good for Meath She were unpriviledgd and sent to Venice.

Al. Of all the faces that mine eye beheld Hers is the brightest.

Duke. Is she then so faire?

Hat. O beyond all comparison of beautie.

Fred. Upon her hand, Father, I saw the fellow to your glove.

Duke. Then let it be restor'd. What, should a Prince retaine a strumpets glove?— O ye eternall powers, am I insnar'd With the affection of a common trull!— Wheres your commissions, that you would have sign'd? 'Tis time I had a president in Saxonie. Receive our signet, and impresse them straight; Ile remaine here, in Meath, some little time. Brother, have care my Dukedome be well rul'd; Here I put over my affaires to you. My sonne I leave unto the joyes of youth; Tis pittie that his minde should be opprest So soone with care of governments. Goe to your pleasures, seeke your sister foorth, Send Constantine to us; so leave me all, I am best accompanied with none at all. [Exeunt. Manet Duke. Either the Plannets, that did meete together In the grand consultation of my birth, Were opposite to every good infusion, Or onely Venus stood as retrograde; For, but in love of this none-loving trull, I have beene fortunate even since my birth. I feele within my breast a searching fire Which doth ascend the engine of my braine, And when I seeke by reason to suppresse The heate it gives, the greaters the excesse. I loath to looke upon a common lip Were it as corral as Aurora's cheeke Died with the faire virmillion [of the] sunne. O but I love her, and they say she is faire.— Now Constantine.

Enter Constantine.

Con. Your grace did send for me.

Duke. Lend me your habit in exchange of mine, For I must walk the Citie for a purpose.

Con. With all my heart, my habit and my selfe.

Duke. In any case, watch at the privie chamber. If any ask for me say I am not well, And though it be my sonne, let him not enter.

Con. I will.

Duke. Be carefull, gentle Constantine. Now, faire Valentia, Saxon to thy bower Comes like a Jove to raine a golden shower. [Exit.

Con. Prosper, kind Lord, what ere the action be; Counsailes of Princes should be ever free.

[Exit.



[SCENE 2.]

Enter Valentia and Montano.

Va. Torches and Musique there! the room's too darke.

Mon. Prethee, Neece, Abandon this lascivious unchaste life; It is the onely blemish of our house; Scandall unto our name; a Curtezan! O what's more odious in the eares of men?

Val. Then why doe men resort to Curtezans, And the best sort? I scorne inferiour groomes, Nor will I deign[179] to draw aside my maske To any meaner then a Noble man. Come,[180] can you dance? a caper and a kisse: For every turne Ile fold thee in my armes, And if thou fal'st, although[181] a-kin we be That thou maist fall[182] soft, Ile fall under thee. Oh for the lightnesse of all light heel'd girles, And I would touch the Ceeling with my lips! Why art thou sad, Montano?

Mon. On just cause, You know I am banish't from my natiue countrey.

Val. This citie is Meath, thou art of Saxonie.

Mon. But this belongs unto the Saxons Duke, By the decease of the departed Bishop.

Val. Feare not, thou art as safe within my house As if perculliz'd in a wall of brasse. Wheres Vandermas?

Enter Vandermas.

Van. Madam, did you call?

Mon. What noble man is that, a sutor to you?

Val. An excellent Pander, a rare doore-keeper.[183]

Mon. I had thought he had bin a gentleman at least.

Val. Because of his attire?

Mon. True.

Val. O the attire In these corrupted daies is no true signe To shew the gentleman; peasants now weare robes, In the habilments of noblemen. The world's grown naught, such judgement then is base, For Hares and Asses weare the lion's case.[184]

Mon. 'Tis very costly and exceeding rich.

Val. Ritches to me are like trash to the poore, I have them in abundance; gold's my slave, I keep him prisoner in a three-fold chest And yet his kindred daily visit me.

Mon. Lord, how diligent Is this rich clothed fellow.

Val. Were he proud And should but dare to stand still when I call, I'de run him th[o]rough with a killing frowne.

Mon. Why then belike his service is for love.

Val. Why so are all the servants that attend mee. They keepe themselves in satin, velvets, gold, At their owne charges, and are diligent Daies, moneths, and yeeres, to gaine an amorous smile. Looke on my face with an indifferent eye, And thou shalt finde more musicke in my lookes Then in Amphions Lute or Orpheus Harpe; Mine eye consists of numbers like the soule, And if there be a soule tis in mine ey; For, of the harmony these bright starres make, I comprehend the formes of all the world; The story of the Syrens in my voyce I onely verified, for Millions stand Inchanted when I speake, and catch my words As they were orient pearle to adorn their eares; Circe is but a fable, I transforme The vertuous, valiant, and the most precise, Into what forme of minde my fancie please. Thou might'st bee proud, great Lord, of my abundance, For in this beautie I shall more renowne Our noble progenie then all the pennes Of the best Poets that ere writ of men. Unto your health a health! let Musique sound, [Musick. That what I taste in Musique may be drown'd. So fill more wine, we use to drinke up all; Wine makes good blood and cheeres the heart withal.

Van. Madam, at such time as I heard you call, A gentleman, it seemes of good discent, Humblie did crave accesse unto your honor.

Valen. What did he give?

Van. A brace of bags of gold.

Valen. He shall have libertie to enter straight. But first inrich the chamber with perfumes; Burne choice Arabian Drugs more deare then Waters distil'd out of the spirit of Flowers; And spread our costly Arras to the eye. Myself sufficiently doe shine in jems; Where such faire coated Heraulds doe proceed, It seemes he is honorable and of noble fame.

Mon. Shall I behold this sutor?

Valen. At the full, At pleasure passe through every spacious Roome. Be he a Prince, Ile know his high discent Or proudly scorne to give him his content. What drum is that?

Van. A Maske, sent by a friend.

Valen. Belike our self must know the mysterie; Tell them we are prepar'd to see the Maske, And bid the other noblemen come neere. Thus am I hourely visited by friends; Beautie's a counsellor that wants no fee. They talke of circles and of powerfull spells, Heeres heavenly art that all blacke art excells.

Mon. Ile walke into the farther gallery.

Enter Duke.

Valen. Sir, you are welcome what so ere you be; I guesse your birth great by your bounteous fee.

Duke. Your humble servant, bound by a sweet kisse.

Valen. I give you freedome, gentle Sir, by this. [He whispers her. I know your mind; first censure of the sport, Then you and I will enter Venus Court.

Duke. More then immortall, O more then divine, That such perfection, should turne Concubine.

Mon. That voice is like unto the Saxon Dukes. I feare he hath heard I liv'd here in this place, And he is come to doe me more disgrace. Montano, hide thyself till he be gone; His daughter thirsts for my destruction. [Exit Mont.

Val. Come sit by me, the Maskers are at hand.

Enter Maske.

Where are my Maides, to helpe to make the dance?

_Enter 2 Maids.

They dance, Valentia with them; they whisper to have her play at dice and stake on the drum_.

Valen. What, shall we have a Mumming? heres my Jewell.

[Play on the drum head.

Duke. Thou art a jewell most incomparable.— Malicious heaven, why from so sweete a face Have you exempt the mind adorning grace?

[They stake and play.

She wins, the drum strikes up.

Val. More gold, for this is mine, I thanke yee, dice.

Duke. And so are all that doe behold thy beautie.— Were she as chaste, as she is outward bright, Earth would be heaven, and heaven eternal night. The more I drinke of her delicious eye, The more I plunge into captivitie.

She wins, strike up.

Valen. Have I wonne all? then take that back agen. What, scorne my gift? I see you are a gentleman. No, is't not possible that I may know Unto whose kindnesse this great debt I owe? Well, Ile not be importunate, farewell; Some of your gold let the torch-bearers tell.

Duke. Beautious Madona, do you know these galants?

Valen. I guesse them of the Duke of Saxons Court.

Duke.—My subjects, and so many my corrivalls O every slave is grac't before his Prince.

Valen. Are you not well sir, that your colour failes?

Duke. If I be sicke, 'tis onely in the minde: To see so faire, so common to all kinde; I am growne jealous now of all the world.— Lady, how ere you prize me, without pleasure More then a kisse, I tender you this treasure; O what's a mint spent in such desire But like a sparke that makes a greater fire?— She must be made my Dutches, there it goes; And marrying her, I marry thousand woes.— Adiew, kind Mistresse;—the next newes you heare Is to sit crown'd in an Imperiall chair.[185]

Valen. Either the man dislikes me, or his braine Is not his owne, to give such gifts in vaine, But 'tis the custome in this age to cast Gold upon gold, to encourage men to waste. Lightly it comes, and it shall lightly flie; Whilst colours hold, such presents cannot die.

[Exeunt omnes.[186]



[SCENE 3.]

Enter Reinaldo, Alfred, and Albert.

Alb. But this is strange, that I should meet your[187] honour So farre from Court; pray whither were you riding?

Alf. Unto your mannor; heard you not the newes?

Alb. What newes?

Alf. This morning, by the breake of day, His excellence sent to me by a post Letters, by which the pillars of the state Should be assembled to a Parliament, Which he intends, my Lords, to hold in Meath.

Alb. When, if it please your honor?

Alf. Instantly, With all the haste that winged time can make.

Albert. Sooner the better; tis like the realmes affaires Are of some weight.

Alb. I will bee there to night, And so I take my leave.

Reinal. We take our leaves.

[Exit Albert and Reinaldo.

Alf. Farewell, my honor'd friend.— There is within my braine a thousand wiles How I may heape up riches; O the sight, Of a gold shining Mountaine doth exceede: Silver is good, but in respect of gold Thus I esteeme it.

[Exit.



[SCENE 4.]

Enter Hatto, with three petitioners.

Hat. How now, my friends, what are you?

1. Poore petitioners.

Hat. Stand farther then, the poore is as unpleasing Unto me as the plague.

2. An't please your good Lordship, I am a Merchant, and gladly would convay a thousand quarters of wheate and other graine over the sea; and heres a hundred pounds for a commission.

Hat. Thou art no beggar, thou shalt ha't, my friend; Give me thy money.

3. I, an't please your honour, have a commoditie of good broad cloth, not past two hundred; may I shippe them over? and theres a hundred poundes.

Hat. Thou shalt have leave.

1. Although I seeme a poore petitioner, My Lord, I crave a warrant to transport[188] A hundred Cannons, fiftie Culverings, With some slight armours, halberts, and halfe pikes; And theres as much as any of the rest.

Hat. Away, Cannibal! wouldst thou ship ordnance? What though we send unto the foes our corne To fatten them, and cloth to keepe them warme, Lets not be so forgetfull of our selves As to provide them with knives to cut our throates: So I should arme a thiefe to take my purse. Hast thou no other course of Merchandize? Thou shouldst get gold, twill yeeld thee ten in the hundred On bare exchange, and raise the price with us; Make us for want coyn brasse and passe it currant Untill we find profit to call it in. There are a thousand waies to make thee thrive And Ile allow of all, bee it nere so bad, Excepting guns to batter downe our houses.

1. Letters[189] of Mart I humblie then intreate, To cease on Rovers that doe secure the seas.

Hat. And on our friends too, if thou canst do't cleanlie. Spare none, but passe it very closely; We will be loath to sift thy Piracie, But open eare to heare what they [thou?] complaine. Hast thou a Letter?

1. Ready drawne my Lord. And heres a brace of hundred pounds for you.

Hat. 'Tis very well; I thinke I shall be rich If dayly tenants pay me rent thus fast. Give me your licenses, they shall bee seal'd. About an houre hence, here attend our pleasure.

Omnes. We thanke your Lordship. [Exeunt petiti.

Hat. O vild catterpillers, And yet how necassarie for my turne! I have the Dukes seale for the Citie Meath, With which Ile signe their warrants. This corne and twentie times as much Alreadie covertly convai'd to France, And other bordering Kingdomes neere the sea, Cannot but make a famine in this land; And then the poore, like dogs, will die apace. Ile seeme to pittie them, and give them almes To blind the world; 'tis excellent policie To rid the land of such, by such device. A famine to the poore is like a frost Unto the earth, which kills the paltry wormes That would destroy the harvest of the spring. As for the which, I count them painefull men Worthy to enjoy what they can get: Beggars are trash, and I esteeme them so; Starve, hang, or drowne themselves, I am alive; Loose all the world, so I have wit to thrive. But I must to the Parliment, and then Ile have a clause to beggar some rich men.

[Exit.



Actus Tertius.

[SCENE 1.]

Enter Duke, Fredericke, Constantine, Reinaldo, Alberto, Alfrid, and amongst them Hatto shuffles in.

Alberto. Princes and pillars of the Saxon State.

Duke. You are the elected, speake for the Court.— Stay, Lord Alberto, we usurpe your office: Who had the charge to fetch Valentia?

Con. I, gracious Lord; and when I gave the charge, A sudden feare, by palenesse, was displai'd Upon her rosie cheeke; the crimson blood, That like a robe of state did beautifie The goodly buildings with a two fold grace, From either side shrunke downewards to her heart As if those summons were an adversarie And had some mighty crime to charge her with. Millions of thoughts were crowded in her braines: Her troubled minde her abrupt words describ'd; She did accuse her selfe without accusers, And in the terrour of a soule perplext Cry'd out, 'the Duke intends to cease my goods Cause I am noted for a Concubine.' I did replie such comfort as beseemes, But comfortlesse I brought her to the Court.

Duke. Then she attends our pleasure.

Con. Mightie Lord, In the next Roome.

Duke. You are careful, Constantine. Conduct her in, and, Lords, give mee your thoughts: What thinke ye wee intend to Valentia?

Alf. Her selfe hath read my sentence in the speech That Constantine delivered to your grace.

Fred. What should my noble father thinke But that she is a strumpet, and in that A blemish to the state wherein she lives?

Hat. She is rich in jewells, and hath store of treasure Got by the slavery of that choice beautie Which otherwise admires her to the world.

Alb. Confiscate all her goods unto the Crown, Thereby disburdening many heavie taxes Impos'd upon the commons of the land.

Hat. Publique example make her to all such; Offences in that kind are growne too common, Lesse shamelesse never[190] were the beautious dames Of Meath and Saxony then[191] the sufferance Hath at this instant made them: good my Lord, Enact some mighty penaltie for lust.

Duke. How wide these Archers shoote of the faire aime Of my affection! Bring Valentia in.

Enter Valentia, usher'd by Constantine.

Valen. The duetie that in generall I doe owe Unto your excellence and to this Court, I pay at once upon my bended knee.

Duke. Behold her, Princes, with impartiall eyes, And tell me, looks she not exceeding faire?

Hat. If that her mind coher'd with her faire face, Shee were the worthy wonder of this age.

Alfred. I never saw a beautie more divine Grossely deform'd by her notorious lust.

Fred. Fairnesse and wantonnesse have made a match To dwell together, and the worst spoyles both.

Albert. Shee is doubly excellent in sin and beauty.

Duke. That they speake truth my conscience speaks, But that I love her that I speak my self. Stand up, divine deformitie of nature, Beautious corruption, heavenly see[m]ing evill, What's excellent in good and bad, stand up; And in this Chaire, prepared for a Duke, Sit, my bright Dutchesse, I command thee, sit. You looke, I am sure, for some apologie In this rash action; all that I can say Is that I love her, and wil marry her.

Fred. How, love a Lais, a base Rodophe, Whose body is as common as the sea In the receipt of every lustfull spring?

Albert. The elements of which these orbes consists, Fire, ayre, and water, with the ground[192] we tread, Are not more vulgar, common, popular, Then her imbracements.

Alberto. To incheyne the thoughts Unto this semblance[193] of lascivious love Were to be married to the broad rode[194] way Which doth receiue the impression of every kind.

Fred. Speech doth want modesty to set her forth In her true forme, base and contemptible; The very hindes and peasants of the land Will bee Corrivals with your excellence If you espouse such a notorious Trull.

Albert. We shall have lust a virtue in the Court, The wayes of sinne be furthered by reward, Panders and Parasites sit in the places Of the wise Counsellors and hurry all.

Fred. Father, as you are princely in your birth, Famous in your estate, belov'd of all, And (which ads greatest glory to your greatnesse,) Esteemed[195] wise, shew not such open[196] folly Such palpable, such grosse, such mountaine folly; Be not the By-word of your neighbour Kings, The scandall of your Subjects, and the triumph Of Lenos, Macrios,[197] and the hatefull stewes. Why speake you not, that are his brother friends, You that doe weare the Liveries of time, The silver cognizance of gravitie? Shall none but young me schoole the reverent [sic] old? Birds teach the Dam, stars fill the glorious spheares Of the all lightning Sunne? speake whilst you may, Or this rash deede will make a fatall day.

Duke. You have said too much, encourage none to speake More then have spoke[n]; by my royall blood, My mind's establisht, not to be withstood. Those that applaud my choyse give us your hands, And helpe to tye these sacred nuptiall bands.

Hat. What likes your excellence, likes me well.

Alfred. And I agree to what my Soveraigne please.

Fred. These are no brothers, they are flatterers, Contrary to themselves in their owne speech. You that doe love the honour of your Prince, The care and long life of my father, The hereditary right deriv'd to me, Your countries Welfare, and your owne renowne, Lend me your hands to plucke her from the throne.

Valen. Princes, forbeare, I doe not seeke the match; It is his highnesse pleasure I sit here, And if he love me 'tis no fault of mine. Behoves me to be thankefull to his Grace, And strive in virtue to deserve this place.

Duke. Thou speak'st too mildly to these hare braind youthes. He that presumes to plucke her from the chaire Dyes in the attempt, this sword shall end all care.

Fred. Why, shee's notorious.

Duke. But she will amend.

Fred. 'Tis too farre growne to have a happy end.

Duke. The dangerous the disease, greater's the cure.

Fred. Princes may seeke renowne by wayes more sure, Shee is dishonest.

Duke. Honestie's unseene; Shee's faire, and therefore fit to be a Queene.

Fred. But vertue is to be preferd ere lust.

Duke. Those that are once false, shall we ne're trust?

Fred. Wise men approve their actions by the tryall.

Duke. I say she is mine in spight of all deniall; Bring me the Crowne.

Fred. To set upon her head? Friends, draw your swords, first strike the strumpet dead.

Duke. My guard, my guard!

Alfred. For shame, put up your swords.

Fred. For shame, great Rulers, leave your flattering words.

Albert. 'Tis madnesse in the King and worse in you.

Hat. Though you prove traytors, we'll not prove untrue.

Fred. Will you dismisse this Strumpet to the stewes, Or our allegance in this act refuse?

Duke. Doe what you dare, the election still shall stand.

Fred. Woe and destruction then must rule the land. Come, Lord Rinaldo, valiant Alberto, come; We have friends enough to grace a warlike Drum. [A shout within. Hearke how the Commons doe applaud our cause. Lascivious Duke, farewell, father, oh vilde! Where Queanes are mothers, Fredericke is no child.

[Exeunt.

Duke. My guard pursue them, and alive or dead Cut off the cause by which these cries are bred. Come, my faire Dutchesse; first unto the Church, There sollemnize our nuptials; then unto our armes: A little rough breath overbeares these stormes.

[Exeunt. Manet Alfred & Hatto.

Alfred. The Duke's besotted. Now we are secure; This match makes well for us; we may command And on them lay the abuses of the land.

Hat. Excellent good; we are like to have warres indeed, But in the meane the poore will starve for bread. Wee must share proffits, howsoere things goe. Winner or looser, neither is our foe; For mutually we'll beare our selues in all Or taking part leane to the strongest wall.

[Exeunt.



[SCENE 2.]

Enter Constantine and Euphrata.

Euph. My father married to a Concubine! Then he will pardon though I marry thee; And howsoe'r, about it presently, The rather for Montano is repealde, Because of his alliance to Valentia.

Con. I am ready, gentle love, and glad in mind That my faire Euphrata will prove so kind.

Euph. Come my deare Constantine, performe this right [sic], And arme in arme thus will we sleepe to night.

[Exeunt.



[SCENE 3.]

Enter Fredericke, Rinaldo, and Alberto, with Drum, Colours, and Souldiers.

Fred. You that are carefull of your countries weale, Fellow compere, Supporter of the State, Let us imbrace in steele, our cause is good. What minde so base that would not shed his blood To free his countrey from so great an ill As now raignes in it by lascivious will? Our[198] friends to warre and, for my part, Ere lust beare sway, Ile gladly yeeld my heart.

Alberto. I heare the Duke is strong.

Fred. Suppose him so, And be advis'd strongly to meete the foe. I had rather, you should think him ten thousand strong Then find it so to our destruction. An enemy thought many and found few, When our first courage failes, gives us a new.

[Alarum.

Alberto. That's the Dukes Drum.

Fred. They are welcome to their death, The ground they tread on covers them with earth.

[Exeunt.

Enter Fredericke and Duke severall.

Fred. The enemy sends forth a Champion To encounter me, I heard him use my name; The honour of the combate shall be mine.

Duke. Come, boy, retreate not, only I intend With thy lifes losse this bloody warre to end.

Fred. My naturall father in my blood I feele, Passion more powerfull then that conquering steele.

Duke. Why dost thou pause, base boy? thy Soveraigne's come, To inter the life I gave thee in this tombe.

Fred. My father, oh my father! nature, be still That I may have my fame, or he his will.

Duke. What, dost thou feare thy cause? is't now so evill?

Fred. I am possest with a relenting devill; Legions of kinde thoughts have supriz'd my sense And I am too weake to be mine owne defence.

Duke. Thou art a coward.

Fred. And you make me so, For you come charm'd like a dishonest[199] foe. You have conferr'd with spirits, and tane their aydes To make me weake, by them I am betraid, My strength drawne from me by a slight; What other meanes could hold me from the fight?

Duke. I have no spells about me.

Fred. 'Tis untrue, For naturall Magique you have brought with you, And such an exorcisme in your name That I forbeare the combate to my shame. But that I am no coward, from your host Elect two of the valiantst that dare most; Double that number, treble it, or more, I have heart at will t'encounter with a score. Or had your selfe come in a strange attire, One of us twaine had lost his living fire.

Enter[200] Montano, Alfred, Vandermas, Valentia, and others.

Duke. Ile trie your valour; see, audacious boy, Thou art incompast with a world of foes Montano, Alfred, Vandermas, and all: My Dutchesse comes, too, to behold thy fall. If thou hast spirit enough, now crave her ayd, Never was poore ventrous souldier worse apayd. [Exit Duke.

Fred. My[201] desire now from the skie of starres. Dart all your Deitie, since I am beset, In honourable wise pay[202] all Natures debt.

They fight, Fredericke beats them off and courses the Dutchesse over the stage.



Actus Quartus.

[SCENE 1.]

_Enter [at one door] Duke, Montano, Valentia, Hatto, and Alfred.

Drumme, Colours, and Souldiers. [At another door enter Frederick, Rinaldo, Alberto, with soldiers_.]

Duke. Our anger long agoe, renowned Lords, Is satisfied in faire Valentias love. Behold our proud sonne and these traiterous crew That dares confront us in the field of Mars.

Valen. You have been too patient, my beloved Lord, In calming these tumultuous jarring spirits. Scourge them with steele, and make the proudest know Tis more then death to have their Prince their foe.

Mon. Bloody constraints beseemes where dutie failes, And, oratory ceasing, force prevailes.

Hat. Peace would doe better, so it pleas'd your sonne.

Fred. In her allurements first [the strife] begun; Banish her from the land, and Ile resigne.

Duke. Learne thine owne dutie, traitor, I know mine.

Albert. Then there's no banishment?

Duke. None but by death; Thy head is forfeit for that daring breath.

Alfred. Submit, degenerate and presumptuous Lord.

Albert. When we are ignorant to weild a sword.

Fred. Never shall noble knee bend to this ground, As long as that vile strumpet liveth crownd.

Duke. I cannot stay to heare my love deprav'd. In few words is it peace, or shall we fight Till our deepe wounds shall dampe the heavenly light, Make the ayre purple with the reaking gore?

Fre. Fight, whilst life serves you, we will nere give ore; The grasse greene pavement shall be drownd in blood, And yet Ile wade to kill her in the flood.

Duke. Alarum, Drum! madnesse is on their side, All vertuous counsell is by them defied. Upon our part strike Drums, Trumpets proclaime Death most assur'd to those that love their shame.

Alarum, fight lustily, and drive away the Duke; Fredericke pursues Valentia over the stage and takes her; a Retreate sounded.

Enter at one doore the Duke, Mon., Hatto, and Alfred, with Drum and Colours.—Enter at the other doore Fredericke leading Valentia prisoner, Rinaldo and Alberto with Drum and Colours.

Duke. Why doe traitors sound retreate so soone?

Fred. Behold the cause.

Duke. Valentia prisoner?

Fred. The firebrand of this tumultuous warre, The originall from whence your subjects bloud Flowes in abundance on[203] this spatious playn.

Valen. And what of all this?

Fred. That thy lifes too meane To satisfie the unworthiest of the Campe For the effusion of a loyall drop.

Duke. Meanes Fredericke then, to kill his fathers heart In faire Valentia's death?

Fred. Not touch your hand, Other then humble as becomes a sonne; But she shall suffer for enchanting you.

Valen. I am a Dutchesse, set my ransome downe.

Fred. A Dutchesse! whence proceeds that borowed name? Of what continuance? scarcely hath the Sunne Beheld thy pride a day, but doth decline Shaming to view a crowned Concubine.

Duke. In mine owne honour, Fredericke, I command Thou set a ransome on Valentia.

Fred. What honor's that? your Dukedomes interest? Your princely birth? your honerable fame? All these are blemisht with a strumpets name.

Mon. Be not so cruell to bereave her life 'Twill draw upon thee a perpetuall scar,— Thy fathers curse, and a continuall warre.

Duke. Oh doe not threaten; Fredericke is so mild He will not prove such a degenerate child. I cannot blame him tho' hee rise in armes: 'Twas not in hate to me, but in disdaine That I should sell my royaltie so vaine; But did he know the value of the jem, Hee would not crase[204] it for a Dyadem. That shee was common her owne words approve, But many faults are cover'd where men love. As thou respects my blessing and good dayes, Restore her, Fredericke, and augment her prayse.

Fred. Restore her?

Albert. Never.

Duke. Albert, thou wert kind And I ne're wrong'd thee; doe not change thy minde.

Hat. You doe abase your honour to intreate.

Duke. How can I choose? my affection is so great.

Alfred. Your power is strong, the enemy is but weake.

Duke. In her destruction all my powers will breake. As thou dost hope of kindnesse in thy choyse If ere thou love, give eare unto my voice; Turne not aside thy eye, the feares I feele Makes me to bow, where tis thy part to kneele. Loe vassailelike, laying aside command, I humbly crave this favour at thy hand: Let me have my beloved, and take my state; My life I undervalue to that rate. Crave anything that in my power doth lye, Tis thine, so faire Valentia may not dye.

Fred. My soule is griev'd, and it appals my blood To see my father pusseld in such mood. Yet shall shee dye, Ile doe as I have said; With mine hand Ile chop off the Strumpets head.

Alberto. Kill her, my Lord, or let me have the honour.

Duke. Tigers would save her, if they lookt upon her; Shee is so beautifull, so heavenly bright, That she would make them love her for the sight. Thou art more rude then such if thou proceede In the execution of so vilde a deede. Remember one thing, I did never love Till thou, my Fredericke, broughtst that fatall Glove. That and the Owners name thou didst descry; Onely for that cause, let not my love dye.

Fred. O gods!

Duke. Cannot my kneeling serve, my teares prevaile, When all helpes faile mee, yet this will not faile: Proffer thy weapon to her beautious side, And with her heart my heart I will divide. Intreaty Ile urge none more then are past, And either now relent or heres my last.

Fred. Stay: if I should relent, will you agree To sign our general pardon presently?

Duke. By heaven I doe, I freely pardon all And a reward I give in generall.

Fred. Then take her, you deserve her were shee better, Making your Crown and life to be her Debter.

Duke. Welcome a thousand times, welcome, sweete wife, Never more deare then now I have saved[205] thy life.

Valen. This more then kindnesse I turne backe to you, Doubling my chast vow to bee ever true.

Fred. Then here the warres end, here[206] our fightings marde, Yet by your leave Ile stand upon my Guard.

Duke. Take any course you please, Citie or Towne, My royall word Ile keepe by this my Crowne.

Fred. Then thus Ile take my leave.

Duke. Since we must part, Farewell, my Sonne, all farewell with my heart.

[Exeunt Fred, and his [sic].

Mon. Twas well, my Lord, 'twas a good policie, To gaine your bride: I hope your grace did not meane To be thus overrulde, by a proud Sonne.

Duke. Why, thinke you he intends some treachery?

Mon. Why not? and did release Valentia To blind your eyes. Hee that could be so proud, To rise in armes against his naturall Father, Hath courage to doe more when he sees time.

Duke. But I have pardon'd that offence by oath.

Mon. It were no periury to make him know Hee is your Sonne, and sonnes a dutie owe. This sequestration will in time aspire Unto a flame shall set your Realme on fire; For[207] when a Subject hath the meanes of will, 'Tis not enough, to say he has no will; For will is alter'd by the place and time And hee that's once up knowes the way to clime. I speake perchance like a prophetique foole, But these are wise can counsaile with your bride; Wisedome adviseth timely to provide.

Duke. What thinkes my love of Frederickes reconcilment?

Valen. That he has spirit enough, to be a traytor. But I am beholding to him for a life And he may brag he gave your grace a wife. A O good old man, he could not choose but feele For shame some small remorse to see you kneele. Pray God he gave me not into your hand That he might be the ruine of your land.

Duke. Thinkes my love so? but, brothers, what's your censure?

Hat. I am no Polititian.

Alfred. Neither I: Wee are both content to live quietly.

Duke. Hee may be a villaine tho' he be my Sonne.

Mon. Why not? and worke your ruine like a foe. Had he meant well, why did he leave you so? Your noble heart was free from all deceipt, But hee's retirde to doe some dangerous feate. When Subjects stand upon their guard, looke to't, They have some plot in hand, and they will do't.

Duke. What course is readiest to prevent such mischiefe?

Mon. Plucke up the fulsome thistle in the prime: Young trees bend lightly, but grow strong in time. Were I the worthiest to advise your honour, You should pursue him with your spredding bandes Swifter in march then is the lightning flame, And take him tardy whilst his plots are tame. Now to charge on his army, questionlesse Would drive them all into a great distresse, If not confound them; having tane your Sonne, You may be as kind, and doe as hee hath done; So shall he know himself and be lesse proud.

Valen. The counsailes good.

Duke. And it shall be allowed. You that doe love me, see the host prepar'd To scare those traytors that our liues have scarde. Our armie's many, but their power is few:[208] Besides, they are traytors, all with us are true. Sound Drums and trumpets, make the world rebound; Hearten our friends, and all our foes confound. [Alarum.

[Exeunt.



[SCENE 2.]

Enter Montano, with two or three souldiers; Vandarmas leading Fredericke bound.

Fred. Base cowards, traytors! how am I surprizde, [Bound] with these bonds? I am a Prince by birth, And princely spirits disdaine such clogs of earth. Let goe, you slaves.

Mon. First know your fathers pleasure.

Fred. You are too bold.

Mon. But you shall keepe a measure.

Fred. Thou blood of common Concubines, must I Be bound by thee, and heir of Saxony?

Enter Duke and Valen.

Duke. It is our pleasure.

Valen. Have you caught him so? Now shall you waite the mercy we will shew: I was too base to be your father's wife.

Duke. But he shall sue to thee to save his life.

Fred. Perjurde, ungratefull, unnaturall, Is this the pardon given in generall?

Duke. Wee'l talke of that hereafter; make him fast.

Valen. Helpe, Vandermas, our self will ayding be To keepe in awe such sencelesse trechery.

Duke. My helpe and all to prison, there till death Remaine in duresse.

Fred. Rather stop my breath, Strangle me with these cords; prison to me Is twenty deaths, I will have liberty. Now as you are a father, be more kind; You did not find me in so sterne a mind. Are[209] you forgetful of the life I sav'd? Shall a Duke's Sonne by treason thus be slav'd? If you suspect my love, grant me the fight; I dare in single combate any knight, Any adventurer, any pandorus hinde, To proue my faith of an unfained mind.

Duke. Away with him.

Fred. I see my death's set downe, And some adulterous heire must weare that Crowne. To intreate a Rodophe, I had rather dye Then have my life lodg'd in such infamy: If all my fortunes on her words depend, Let her say kill me, and so make an end.

Duke. Why stay you?

Vander. Good my Lord.

Fred. Peace, untaught Groome, My heart's so great that Ide forerun my doome. There's no release meant, you have vowed I see To dam your soules by wilfull periury. Yet that I am my self, let these words shew: To die is naturall, tis a death I owe, And I will pay it, with a mind as free As I enjoyed in my best libertie. But this assure your self, when all is done, They'l kill the father that will kill the sonne. [Exit.

Duke. What's to be done now?

Mon. Seale unto his death, Your warrant nere the sooner takes effect: 'Twill be a meanes to make him penitent. Seeing his fault, hee'l taste your mercie best, When now he proudly thinkes he is opprest.

Duke. A Warrant shall be sign'd, and unto thee I doe commend it; deale not partially; If he be sorry and in true remorse, Cancell the Writ, else let it have full force. Had I ten sonnes, as I have onely this, They should all die, ere thou depriv'd of blisse. So great is my affection, my faire wife, That to save thine Ide frankly give my life. Come, weele about it strait, all time seemes long, Where thou hast found slight cause to feare my wrong.

Valen. That writ Ile take, and a conclusion trie: If he can love he lives, if hate me die. For howsoere, I seeme to scorne the man, Hee's somewhat deare in my affection.— Here comes your brothers.

Enter Alfred, and Hatto.

Alfred. May it please your grace, By chance entring into Saint Maries Church, This morn by breake of day, I espied That that I know will vexe your Excellence: Your daughter Euphrata is married To the ambitious beggar Constantine.

Duke. My daughter married to my Chamber-squire?

Mon. Your Excellence did banish me the land Because I did suspect her with that fellow.

Duke. He shall be tortur'd with th'extreamest plague For his presumption.—Have you brought them, That I may kill them with a killing looke?

Hat. Without direction we have ventured To lay upon them your strict command, And they attend.

Duke. Bring the presumptuous.

Enter Constantine, and Euphrata, Otho following in disguise.

Euph. Forward, Constantine, our Rites are done, Thou art my husband, doe not feare his eye, The worst it can import is but to die.

Duke. Base and degenerate.

Euph. He is a Gentleman, 'Twas base of you to wed a Curtizan.

Mon. Her brothers spirit right, bold and audacious.

Euph. When[210] I am no bastard, wherefore should I feare? The knot is sacred, and I hold it deare; I am wedded unto virtue, not to will, Such blessed unions never bring forth ill. If I offend, in disobedience, Judge of the power of love by your offence. Father, you have no reason for this ire; Frowne whilst you kill us, desire is desire.

Duke. A Curtezan? hath that ambitious boy Taught you such Rethoricke? you shall taste like joy. I will not reason with you, words are vaine, The fault is best discerned in the paine. Your hastie marriage hath writ downe his death, And thy proud words shall scale it with thy breath. By what is dearest to mee, here I sweare, Both of your heads, shall grace a fatall beere. Take them to prison, Ile not heare a word, This is the mercie that we will afford. Since they are growne so proud, next morn begun, Let them be both beheaded with my sonne.

Con. Short and sweet: Euphrata, the doome is faire, We shall be soone in heaven, there ends my care. I scorne entreatie, and, my deare, I know, All such slavery thou hatest so, 'Twill be a famous deed for this good man To kill all's children for a Curtezan.

Euph. Wilt thou die with me?

Const. Would I live in heaven? Thou art now too high for me, death makes us even.

Euph. Looke to your dukedome: those that hast our fall Have by their avarice almost hurried all. There's a whole Register of the poores crie: Whilst they are reading them, imbrace and die.

[Flings downe her lap full of Petitions.

[Exeunt Euph. and Constant.

Duke. Beare them away.—And now let's reade these Writes. What's here? complaints against my worthy brothers For corne transported, Copper money stampt,[211] Our subjects goods ceaz'd, and I know not what. A plague upon this busie-headed rabble! We will have tortures made to awe the slaves; Peace makes them ever proud and malapert, They'l be an Overseer of the State.

Valen. And plead reformation to depose you.

Duk. True, my faire Dutchesse, but Ile cut them short. Rule still, deare brothers: take these to the fire, Let me reade somewhat that augments desire, Authors and golden Poems full of love; Such the Petitions are that I approve. So I may live in quiet with my wife, Let fathers, mothers, children, all lose life. If thou have issue, in despight of fate They shall succeed in our Imperiall state. Come, sweet, to dauncing, then to sport and play, Till we have ruled all our life away.

[Exeunt.

Manet, Otho.

Otho. O pittifull condition of a Realme, Where the chiefe ruler is ore-rul'd by pleasure! Seeing my friend supriz'd, in this disguise I followed him to meete the consequence. And to my griefe I see his marriage rites Will cut him short of all this earths delights. What's that to me? When Constantine is dead, I have some hope to attaine her Nuptiall bed. But she is doom'd as well as hee to die: Can the Duke act his daughters Tragedie? It is impossible; he will relent, And Ile perswade her freely to repent. Yet 'tis most likelie that he will agree: He is so farre spent in vild tyrannie. The commons hate him for the wrong he hath done (By his brothers meanes), the Nobles for his sonne. Famine spreads through the land, the people die; Yet he lives senselesse of their miserie. Never were subjects more mislead by any, Nor ever Soveraigne hated by so many. But, Constantine, to thee I cast an eye; Shall all our friendship end in enmitie? Shall I, that ever held thee as my life, Hasten thy death that I may get thy wife? Or love or friendship, whether shall exceed, Ile explaine your vertue in this following deed.