Bust. True, but I doubt not we shall have worse cheare at dinner.

Jay. When was ever any meat well dressd in the hangmans kitchen!

[Exeunt.



(SCENE 3.)

Enter Fernando, bareheaded, talking with the Duke of Macada; Duke Gyron, Medyna, Marquesse d'Alquevezzas; 2 Gen., one with Pikes sword, which is laid on a table; Jaylour, Teniente; Clarke with papers.

Mac. Where's the Teniente?

Clarke. The Duke calls for you.

Ten. Here, my Lord.

Mac. 'Tis the King's pleasure that those fugitives Which basely left the fort should not be honourd With a judiciall tryall, but presently (Both those you have at home & these in Sherrys) To dye by martiall law.

Ten. My Lord, Ile see it done.

Mac. Dispatch the rest here.

Jay. Yes, my Lord; Ile bring them carefully together to end the busines.

Gyr. Bring Bustamente in. [Exit Jaylour.

Mac. My Lords, here's Don Fernando relates to me Two stories full of wonder; one of his daughter, Fam'd for her vertues, faire Eleonora, Accusing Don Henrico, youngest sonne To noble Pedro Guzman, of a rape; Another of the same Henrico's, charging His elder brother Manuell with the murther Of Pedro Guzman, who went late to France.

Gyr. Are all the parties here?

Fer. Yes. [Exit Fernan.

Enter Jaylour, Bustamente, Guard.

Gyr. Bring them in.

Mac. Bustamente, The King, our master, looking with sharpe eyes, Upon your trayterous yeilding up the fort, Putts off your Tryall here; you must abide Longer imprisonment.

Bust. I have allready quitted My selfe, my lord, of that which you call Treason, Which had in any here (he doing the like) Bene a high point of honour.

Alq. These braves[43] cannot serve you.

Gyr. You must not be your owne Judge.

Mac. You gave the English More glory by your base ignoble rendring That fort up then our Nation gott from them In all our undertakings.

Bust. Heare me, my Lords,

Mac. Sir, sir, w'have other anviles; Bustamente, Prepare your selfe for death.

Bust. For all my service!

All. Take him away!

Bust. You are Lyons & I your prey.

[Exit with Jaylour.

Mac. Which are Don Pedro's sons?

Enter Fernando, Henrico, Manuell.

Fer. These two.

Mac. Which youngest?

Hen. I, my Lord.

Enter Jaylour.

Mac. You charge this Gentleman, your elder brother, With murther of your father.

Hen. Which I can prove.

Mac. And hither flyes a ravisht Ladyes voice To charge you with a Rape; the wronged Daughter Of this most noble Gentleman.

Hen. Let them prove that

Mac. These accusations & the proofes shall meete Here face to face, in th' afternoone. Meantime Pray, Don Fernando, let it be your care To see these gentlemen attended on By a strong guard.

Fer. The wrongs done to my selfe Work me, my lord, to that.

Man. I would your Grace would heare me speake a little.

All. You shall have time.

Med. Take them away, And at their Tryall have the Lady here.

[Ex. Fer., Hen., Man., & Jaylour.

Gyr. Where is the Englishman?

Clarke. The Englishman!

Alq. What do you call him? Dick of Devonshire?

Med. Because he is a soldier let him have A soldier's honour; bring him from his prison Full in the face of the whole Towne of Sherrys, With drums and musketts.

Mac. How many soldiers are in the Towne?

Clarke. 5000.

Med. Let 200 march hither along with him as his guard: where's the Teniente?

Ten. Here, my Lord.

Med. Pray, see this done & in good order.

Ten. I shall. [Exit.

Enter Don John below.

Gyr. What makes Don John here? Oh, now I remember: You come against the Englishman.

Jo. Yes, my Lord.

Enter his Lady and a Gentlewoman above.

Mac. Give me the Note there of the English advertisements.

[They all conferre.

Lady. Here may we see & heare: poore Englishman! Sadnes! I cast on thee a noble pitty, A pitty mixt with sorrow that my Husband Has drawne him to this misery, to whom The soldier gave life being at his mercy.

Gent. Twas bravely done, no doubt he'le speed the better For his mind.

Lady. I visited him in prison, And did with much adoe win from Don John This journey, for I vowd to see th'event How they will deale with him.

Gent. I hope most fairely.

Enter 2 drums, Teniente, divers musketts, Fernando with Pike (without band, an Iron about his necke, 2 Chaines manackling his wrists, a great chaine at his heeles); Jaylour, 3 or 4 halberts. A Barre sett out.

Clarke. Silence!

Mac. You see how much our Spanish soldiers love you To give this brave attendance; though your Nation Fought us & came to hunt us to our deathes.

Pike. My Lords, this, which in shew is brave attendance And love to me, is the worldes posture right, Where one man's falling downe setts up another. My sorrowes are their triumphes; so in kings courts, When officers are thrust out of their roomes, Others leape laughing in while they doe mourne. I am at your mercy.

Mac. Sirra Englishman, Know you that weapon?—reach it him.

Pike. Yes, it Was once mine; and drawes teares from me to think How 'twas forced from me.

Mac. How many Spanyards Killd you with that sword?

Pike. Had I killd one This Barre had nere bene guilty of my pleading Before such Princely Judges: there stands the man.

Gyr. Don John, sett he on you or you on him?

Jo. He upon me first.

Pike. Let me then be torne Into a thousand pieces.

Lady. My Husband speaks untruth.

Alq. Sett he on you first? more coward you to suffer an enemy be aforehand.

Pike. Indeed in England my countrymen are good at bidding stand; but I was not now upon a robbery but a defence, sett round with a thousand dangers. He sett upon me; I had him at my feete, sav'd him, and for my labour was after basely hurt by him.

Fer. This was examined by me, my Lords; And Don John, thus accusd, was much ashamd Of his unmanly dealing.

Gyr. He may be now soe.

Lady. I blush for him my selfe.

Alq. Disgrace to Spanyards!

Mac. Sirra, you English, what was the ship you came in?

Pike. The Convertine.

Mac. What Ordnance did she carry?

Pike. 40 peeces.

Gyr. No, sir, but 38; see here, my Lord.

Alq. Right, no more then 38.

Mac. Your fort at Plymouth strong?

Pike. Yes, very strong.

Mac. What Ordnance in't?

Pike. 50 Peeces.

Gyr. Oh fye, doe not belye your country; there's not so many.

Alq. How many soldiers keepe you in that fort?

Pike. 200.

Mac. Much about such a number.—There is a little iland before Plymouth: What strength is that of?

Pike. I doe not know.

Gyr. We doe, then.

Alq. Is Plymouth a walld Towne?

Pike. Yes, it is walld.

Mac. And a good wall?

Pike. A very good strong wall.

Gyr. True tis a good strong wall, and built so high One with a leape staffe may leape over it.

Mac. Why did not your good navy, being in such bravery, As it tooke Puntall seize Cales?

Pike. Our Generall Might easily have tane it, for he had Almost a thousand scaling ladders to sett up; And without mayme to's army he might loose A thousand men: but he was loath to robb An almes-house when he had a richer market To buy a conquest in.

Mac. What was that market?

Pike. Genoa or Lisbon: wherefore should we venture Our lives to catch the wind, or to gett knockes And nothing else. [They consult.

Mac. A poast with speed, to Lisbon, And see't well mand.

Ten. One shalbe sent, my Lord.

[Exit. The soldiers laugh.

Alq. How now, why is this laughter?

Fer. One of the soldiers, being merry among themselves, is somewhat bold with th'English, and sayes th'are dainty Hennes.

All. [Alq.?] Hens! ha, ha, ha!

Mac. Sirra, view well these soldiers, And freely telle us, thinke you these will prove Such hens as are your English, when next yeare They land in your owne Country.

Pike. I thinke they will not, My lord, prove hens, but somewhat neere to hens.

Mac. How mean'st thou?

Pike. Let my speech breed no offence: I thinke they would prove pulletts.

Gyr. Dar'st thou fight With any one of these our Spanish pulletts?

Pike. What heart have I to fight when tis beaten flatt To earth with sad afflictions? can a prisoner Glory in playing the Fencer? my life's at stake Allready; can I putt it in for more? Our army was some 14000 men Of which more than 12000 had spirits so high Mine never shall come neere them: would some of them Were here to feed your expectations! Yet, silly as I am, having faire pardon From all your Graces and your Greatnesses, Ile try if I have strength in this chayned arme To breake a rapier.

Mac. Knock off all his gyves; And he that has a stomacke for Spaines honour To combate with this Englishman, appeare.

Pike. May he be never calld an Englishman That dares not looke a divell in the face, [One stepps forth. Come he in face of man, come how he can.

Mac. Your name?

Tia. Tiago.

All. Well done Tiago.

Mac. Let drums beate all the time they fight.

Lady. I pray for thee.

Gent. And I.

[They fight: Pike disarmes & tripps him downe.

Pike. Onely a Devonshire hugg, sir:—at your feete I lay my winnings.

Tia. Diable!

[Exit, biting his thumb[44]; the soldiers stampe.

Gyr. Wilt venter on oanother?

Pike. I beseech you To pardon me, and taske me to no more.

Alq. Come, come, one more; looke you, here's a young Cockerell[45] Comes crowing into the pitt. [Another steps in.

All. Prithee, fight with him.

Pike. I'me in the Lyon's gripe & to gett from him There's but one way; that's death.

Mac. English, What say you? will you fight or no?

Pike. Ile fight.

All. Give 'em roome! make way there!

Pike. Ile fight till every Joynt be cutt in pieces To please such brave spectators; yes Ile fight While I can stand, be you but pleasd, my Lords, The noble Dukes here, to allow me choice Of my owne Country weapon.

All. What?

Pike. A Quarter staffe,—this, were the head off.

Mac. Off with the head, and roome! How dost thou like this Spaniard?

Pike. Well: he's welcome. Here's my old trusty frend: are there no more? One! what, but one? why, I shall make no play, No sport before my princely Judges with one. More sackes to the Mill! come, another! what, no more?

Mac. How many wouldst thou have?

Pike. Any number under six.

All. Ha, ha, sure he's mad!

Mac. Dar'st coape with Three?

Pike. Where are they? let 'em shew their faces: so; welcome!

Mac. How dost thou like these chickens?

Pike. When I have drest them With sorrell sopps Ile tell you.

Lady. Now guard him heaven!

[Drums. They fight, one is killd, the other 2 disarmed.

1. Hell take thy Quarter staffe!

2. Pox on thy quarters!

Mac. The matter? why this noyse?

[A noyse within of Diable Englese.

Jay. The soldiers rayle, stampe & stare, and sweare to cutt His throat for all the Jaylors care of him.

Mac. Make proclamation, my lord Fernando, That who soever dares but touch his finger To hurt him, dyes.

Fer. I will, sir. [Exit.

Lady. This is done nobly.

Mac. Here, give him this gold.

Ten. The Duke Macada gives you this gold.

All. And this.

Ten. The Duke of Medina this; Duke Gyron this; &, looke you, the Marquesse Alqueveza as much as all the rest.

Alq. Where's any of my men? give him your Cloake, sirra; Fetch him cleane Band and Cuffs. I embrace thee, Pike; And hugg thee in my armes: scorne not to weare A Spanish livery.

Pike. Oh, my Lord, I am proud of't.

Mac. He shalbe with a Convoy sent to the King.

Alq. 4 of my gentlemen shall along with him: Ile beare thy charges, soldier, to Madrid, 5 peeces of 8 a day in travell, & Lying still thou shalt have halfe that.

Pike. On my knees Your vassaile thankes heaven, you, and these Princes.

Mac. Breake up the Court till afternoon: then the 2 Guzmans tryall.

All. Come, Englishman.

Med. How we honour valour thus our loves epresse: Thou hast a guard of Dukes and Marquesses.

[Exeunt all.



Actus Quintus.

(SCENE 1.)

Enter Teniente & Henrico.

Ten. The Lords are not yett risen: let us walke & talke. Were not you better yeild to marry her Then yeild to suffer death? know you the law?

Hen. Law! yes; the spiders Cobweb[46], out of which great flyes breake and in which the little are hangd: the Tarriers snaphance[47], limetwiggs, weavers shuttle & blankets in which fooles & wrangling coxcombes are tossd. Doe I know't now or not?

Ten. If of the rape she accuse you 'tis in her choise To have you marry her or to have you hangd[48].

Hen. Hangd, hangd by any meanes! marry her? had I The King of Spaines 7 Kingdomes, Gallicia, Navarre, the 2 Castiles, Leon, Arragon, Valentia, Granada, And Portugall to make up 8, Ide lose them All to be rid of such a piece of flesh.

Ten. How? such a piece of flesh? Why, she has limbes Mad out of wax.[49]

Hen. Then have her to some faire And shew her for money.

Ten. Is she not sweet complexiond?

Hen. As most Ladyes are that studye painting.

Ten. What meate will downe your throat, when you scorne pheasant, partridge, woodcocke & coney? Would I had such a dish.

Hen. Woodcocke and coney take to you, my Don Teniente; Ile none; and because you keepe such a wondering why my stomach goes against the wench (albeit I might find better talke, considering what ladder I stand upon) Ile tell you, signior, what kind of wife I must have or none.

Ten. Pray let me see her picture.

Hen. Draw then this curtaine: Give me a wife that's sound of wind and limbe; Whose teeth can tell her age; whose hand nere felt A touch lascivious; whose eyes are balls Not tossd by her to any but to me; Whose breath stinkes not of sweatmeates; whose lippes kisse Onely themselves and mine; whose tongue nere lay At the signe of the Bell. She must not be a scold, No, nor a foole to be in love with Bables[50]; No, nor too wise to think I nere saile true But when she steares the rudder. I'de not have Her belly a drum, such as they weave points on, Unles they be taggd with vertue; nor would I have Her white round breasts 2 sucking bottles to nurse Any Bastards at them.

Ten. I believe you would not.

Hen. I would not have her tall, because I love not To dance about a May pole; nor too lowe (Litle clocks goe seldome true); nor, sir, too fatt (Slug[51] shipps can keepe no pace); no, nor too leane, To read Anatomy lectures ore her Carcas. Nor would I have my wife exceeding faire, For then she's liquorish meate; & it would mad me To see whoremasters teeth water at her, Red haird by no meanes, though she would yeild money To sell her to some Jew for poyson. No, My wife shall be a globe terrestriall, Moving upon no axeltree but mine; Which globe when I turne round, what land soever I touch, my wife is with me, still Ime at home.

Ten. But where will you find such a wife on earth?

Hen. No, such a wife in the Moone for me doth tarry: If none such shine here I with none will marry.

Ten. The Lordes are come.

Hen. I care neyther for Lords nor Ladies.

Enter the Nobles as before; Fernando, Manuell, Clarke, Jaylor.

Mac. Where are these gentlemen? sett 'em both to a Barre And opposite, face to face: a Confrontation May perhaps daunt th'offender & draw from him More then he'de utter. You accuse your Brother As murtherer of your father: where's the proofe?

Hen. First call my fathers man in.

Clark. What's his name?

Hen. Buzzano.

Clark. Call Buzzano in!

Enter Buzzano.

Buz. Here I am, here.

Clark. Stand out: whither goe you?

Buz. To stand out.

Clark. Stand there.

Mac. Now what can he say?

Hen. First, my Lord, heare mee: My brother & I lying in one bed together, And he just under us—

Buz. In my fleabitten Trundle bed.[52]

Clark. Peace, sirra.

Hen. About midnight I awaking, And this Buzzano too, my brother in his sleepe Thus cryde out, "Oh, twas I that murtherd him, This hand that killd him"!

Gyr. Heard you this, sirra?

Buz. As sure as I heare you now.

Alq. And you'le be sworne 'twas he that so cryde out?

Buz. If I were going to be hangd Ide sweare.

Clark. Forbeare the Court. [Exit Buzzano.

Mac. All this is but presumption: if this be all The shott you make against him your bullets stick In a mud wall, or if they meete resistance They backe rebound & fly in your owne face.

Med. Bring your best forces up, for these are weak ones.

Hen. Then here I throw my glove & challenge him To make this good upon him: that at comming home He first told me my father dyed in France, Then some hours after that he was not dead But that he left him in Lorraine at Nancy, Then at Chaalons in Burgundy, & lastly He said to Don Fernando he was in Paris.

Fer. He did indeed.

Mac. What then?

Hen. Then, when in's chamber we were going to bed, He suddenly lookd wild, catchd me by the hand And, falling on his knees, with a pale face And troubled conscience he confessed he killd him, Nay, swore he basely murtherd him.

Mac. What say you to this?

Alq. Now he comes close up to you.

Man. He is my murtherer For I am none, so lett my Innocence guard me. I never spake with a distracted voice; Nere fell to him on my knees; spake of no father, No murtherd father. He's alive as I am, And some foule divell stands at the fellowes elbow, Jogging him to this mischefe. The Villaine belyes me, And on my knees, my lord, I beg that I And my white Innocence may tread the path Beaten out before us by that man, my brother. Command a case of rapiers to be sent for, And lett me meete his daring. I know him valiant; But I am doubly armd, both with a Courage Fiery as his can be, and with a cause That spitts his accusation full in the face.

Mac. The combate in this case cannot be granted, And here's the reason: when a man accuses A frend, much more a brother, for a fact So foule as murther (murther of a father), The Law leapes straight way to the Challenger To take his part. Say he that doth accuse Should be decrepitt, lame and weake, or sickly, The other strong and lusty; thinke you a kingdome Will hazard so a subject, when the quarrell Is for a kingdomes right? If y'are so valiant You then must call the law into the field But not the man.

Man. I have done; let law proceed.

Mac. This cannot serve your turne, say he does belye you; He stakes against your body his owne soule. Say there is no such murther, yet the Law Fastens on you; for any man accusd For killing of his father may be rackd To draw confession from him. Will you confesse?

Man. I cannot, must not, will not.

Mac. Jaylour, take & prepare him for the racke: Wele see it done here.

Hen. You are righteous Judges.

Man. Oh villaine, villaine, villaine!

[Exit with the Jaylour.

Med. Where's the wrongd Lady?

Alq. Stand you still at the Barre. You are now another man, sir; your scale turnes.

Fernando fetches in Eleonora.

Mac. Looke on the prisoner: doe you know him, Lady?

Ele. Would I had nere had cause to say I know him.

Mac. Of what doe you accuse him?

Ele. As the murtherer Both of my name and honour. In the hurry, When the Citty (they said) was ready to be taken, I being betrothed to this young gentleman, My father brought me to his father's house, Telling me their dwelt safety.—There dwelt villany, Treason, lust, basenes! for this godlesse man (The storme being ore) came in & forcd from me The Jewell of my virgin honour.

Hen. False!

Fer. I would not have thee thinke (thou graceles wretch) She, being contracted to thee, loving thee, Loving thee far more dearly then her selfe, Would wound her vertue soe, so blott her fame And bring a scandall on my house & me, Were not the fact most true.

Hen. Most false by all that ever man can sweare by. We falling out, I told her once I nere Would marry her; & soe she workes this mischiefe.

Gyr. You here stand chargd for ravishing her, & you Must marry her or she may have your life.

Mac. Lady, what say you? which had you rather have, His life or him?

Ele. I am not cruell; pay me my first Bond Of marriage, which you seald to, & I free you And shall with Joy run flying to your armes.

All. Law you?[53]

Mac. That's easy enough.

Hen. Rackes, Gibbetts, wheeles make sausages of my flesh first! Ile be ty'd to no man's Strumpet.

Alq. Then you muste look to dye.

Mac. Lady, withdraw.

Hen. Well, if I doe, somebody shall packe.

Ele. Oh me, unfortunate Creature! [Exit.

Enter Manuell to be rackt; Jaylour & Officers.

Med. Don Manuell Guzman ere you taste the tortures, Which you are sure to feele, will you confesse This murther of your father?

Man. Pray, give me privacy a little with my brother.

All. [Alq.?] Take it.

Man. O brother your owne Conscience knowes you wrong me: Ile rather suffer on the Gallow Tree Then thus be torne in pieces. Canst thou see mee Thus worryed amongst hangmen? deare Henrico, For heavens sake, for thine owne sake pitty mee.

All. [Alq.?] What sayes he?

Hen. Cunning, cunning, cunning Traytour! In my eare he confesses all again and prayes me To speake to you.

Mac. Will you openly confesse?

Man. No, no, I cannot. Caytiffe, I spake not soe: I must not wound my Conscience to lay on it A guilt it knowes not. Ile not so dishonour My father, nor my ancestours before me, Nor my posterity with such an earthquake To shake our noble house.

Mac. Give him the Law then.

Man. Ile meete a thousand deaths first.

Hen. Plucke, & plucke home, for he's a murtherous Villaine.

Man. Thou worse, a divell.

Mac. Racke him!

Man. Oh stay! for heavens sake spread your mercy! I doe confesse the murther; I killd my father.

All. Take him off!

Man. This hand stabbd him.

Mac. Where?

Man. Neere St. Germains In Paris, in a darke night, & then I fled.

Mac. Thy owne tongue is thy Judge; take him away: To-morrow looke to dye: send him a Confessour.

Jay. Ile have a holy care of him.

[Exit Manuell, led by the Jaylour.

Hen. Who's now, my lords, the Villaine?

Enter Eleonora & Buzzano.

Ele. Oh Justice, here's a witnesse of my Rape.

Mac. Did you see't, sirra?

Buz. See't! no, sir, would I had; but when she was in labour I heard her cry out "helpe! helpe!" & the Gamboll being ended she came in like a mad woman, ruffled & crumpled, her haire about her eares; & he all unbrac'd, sweating as if he had bene thrashing; & afterwards he told me, my lords, that he had downe diddled her.

Hen. I now am lost indeed, & on my knee Beg pardon of that goodnes, that pure Temple Which my base lust prophand, & will make good My wrongs to her by marriage.

Mac. What say you, Lady?

Ele. He spurnd my mercy when it flew to him And courted him to kisse it; therefore now Ile have his life.

Fer. That life, so had, redeemes Thine & thy fathers infamy. Justice! my Lords.

Hen. Cruell Creature!

Mac. Take him away & lead him to his brother; You both must die next morning.

Hen. I deserve it; And so that Slave, too, that betrayed his Master.

Buz. Why should I not betray my Master, when he betrayed his Mistris.

Ele. Get you gone, sirra.

[Exeunt Henrico & Buzzano.

Mac. You are dismissd: Faire Lady, You shall have Law, your Ravisher shall dye.

Ele. Oh that my life from death could sett him free! [Exit.

Mac. Pray, Don Fernando, follow her & soften Her heart to pitty the poore gentleman: The Crime is not so Capitall.

Fer. Ile doe my best. [Exit.

Mac. That such a noble Spanyard as Don Pedro Should be so cursed in's Children!

Enter Buzzano, Don Pedro, Fernando & Eleonora.

Buz. Hee's come, hee's come, my Lord! Don Pedro Gusman is still alive,—see, see!

Mac. Let us descend to meet a happinesse Crownes all our expectations.

Pedro. Whilst I meet A Thunder strikes me dead. Oh, poore, wrongd Lady, The poyson which the villaine poures on thy honour Runs more into my veines then all the Venome He spitts at me or my deare Boy, his brother. My Lords, your pardon that I am transported With shame & sorrow thus beyond my selfe, Not paying to you my duty.

All. Your love, Don Pedro.

Mac. Conceale your selfe a while; your sons wele send for, And shew them deaths face presently.

Pedro. Ile play a part in't. [Exit.

Mac. Let them be fetcht, & speake not of a father.

Ten. This shall be done. [Exit.

Mac. Is your Compassion, Lady, yet awake? Remember that the scaffold, hangman, sword, And all the Instruments death playes upon, Are hither calld by you; 'tis you may stay them. When at the Barre there stood your Ravisher You would have savd him, then you made your choyce To marry him: will you then kill your husband?

Ele. Why did that husband then rather chuse death Then me to be his bride? is his life mine? Why, then, because the Law makes me his Judge, Ile be, like you, not cruell, but reprieve him; My prisoner shall kisse mercy.

Mac. Y'are a good Lady.

Med. Lady, untill they come, repose your selfe.

[Exit Eleonora.

Mac. How now? so soone come back? why thus returned?

Enter Pike & a Gentleman, with Letters.

Gen. Our Journey to Madrid the Kinge himselfe Cutts off, by these his royall letters sent Upon the wings of speed to all your Graces. He lay one night since at your house, my Lord Where, by your noble Wife, he had a wellcome Fitting his greatnes & your will.

Alq. I'me glad of't.

Mac. The King, our Master, writes heere, Englishman, He has lost a subiect by you; yet referres Himselfe to us about you.

Pike. Againe, I stand heere To lay my own life downe, please his high Maiesty To take it: for what's lost his fate to fall Was fortune de la guerre, & at the feete Of his most royal Maiesty & at yours (My Princely Lords & Judges) low as th'earth I throw my wretched selfe & begg his mercy.

Mac. Stand up; that mercy which you aske is signd By our most royall master.

Pike. My thankes to heaven, him & your Graces.

Mac. The King further writes heere, That though your Nation came in Thunder hither Yet he holds out to you his Enemy 2 friendly proffers: serve him in his dominions Eyther by land or sea, & thou shalt live Upon a golden pension, such a harvest As thou nere reapst in England.

Pike. His kingly favours Swell up in such high heapes above my merit, Could I reare up a thousand lives, they cannot Reach halfe the way. Ime his, to be his Vassaile, His Gally Slave, please you to chaine me to the oare; But, with his highnes pardon & your allowance, I beg one Boone.

All. What is't?

Pike. That I may once more See my owne Country Chimneys cast out smoake. I owe my life and service to the King, (The king of England) let me pay that Bond Of my allegeance; &, that being payd, There is another obligation, One to a woefull Wife & wretched Children Made wretched by my misery. I therefore beg, Intreat, emplore, submissively hold up my hands To have his Kingly pitty & yours to lett me goe.

All. [Alq.?] Let him ene goe.

Mac. Well, since we cannot win you to our service, We will not weane you from your Countryes love. The king, our lord, commands us here to give you A hundred pistoletts to beare you home.

Pike. A royall bounty, which my memory Shall never loose; no, nor these noble favours Which from the Lady Marquesse Alquevezze Raynd plenteously on me.

Alq. What did she to thee?

Gyr. How did she entertaine thee?

Pike. Rarely; it is a brave, bounteous, munificent, magnificent Marquezza! the great Turke cannot tast better meat then I have eaten at this ladies Table.

Alq. So, so.

Pike. And for a lodging, if the curtaines about my bed had bene cutt of Sunbeames, I could not lye in a more glorious Chamber.

Mac. You have something, then, to speake of our weomen when y'are in England.

Pike. This Box, with a gold chaine in't for my Wife & some pretty things for my Children, given me by your honourd Lady would else cry out on me. There's a Spanish shirt, richly lacd & seemd, her guift too; & whosoever layes a foul hand upon her linnen in scorne of her bounty, were as good flea[54] the Divells skin over his eares.

Mac. Well said: in England thou wilt drinke her health?

Pike. Were it a glasse as deepe to the bottome as a Spanish pike is long, an Englishman shall doe't. Her health, & Don Johns wives too.

Enter Jaylor.

Jay. The Prisoners are upon comming.

Mac. Stand by, Englishman.

Enter Teniente, Henrico, Manuell, Pedro (as a fryer); at another dore Eleonora.

Mac. Give the Lady roome there!

Clark. Peace!

Mac. Your facts are both so foule your hated lives Cannot be too soone shortned; therefore these Lords Hold it not fitt to lend you breath till morning, But now to cutt you off.

Both. The stroke is welcome.

Pedro. Shall I prepare you?

Hen. Save your paynes, good father.

Man. We have allready cast up our accounts And sent, we hope, our debts up into heaven.

Fer. Our sorrowes & our sighes fly after them.

Ped. Then your confession of the murther stands As you your selfe did sett it downe?

Man. It does; But on my knees I beg this marginall note May sticke upon the paper; that no guilt, But feare of Tortures frighted me to take That horrid sin upon me. I am as innocent And free as are the starres from plotting treason Gainst their first mover.

Pedro. I was then in France When of your fathers murther the report Did fill all Paris.

Man. Such a reverend habit Should not give harbour to so blacke a falshood.

Hen. Tis blacke, & of my dying; for 'twas I To cheate my brother of my fathers lands, Layd this most hellish plott.

Fer. 3[55] hellish sins, Robbery, Rape & Murther.

Hen. I'me guilty of all Three; his soul's as white And cleare from murther as this holy man From killing mee.

Pedro. No [know], there's a thing about me Shall strike thee into dust & make thy tongue With trembling to proclayme thyselfe a Villaine More then thou yet hast done:—See, tis my Eye.

Hen. Oh, I am confounded! [Falls.

Man. But I comforted With the most heavenly apparition Of my deare honourd father.

Fer. Take thou comfort By two more apparitions, of a father And a lost daughter, yet heere found for thee.

Man. Oh, noble sir, I pray forgive my brother.

Ele. See, sir, I doe; & with my hand reach to him My heart to give him new life.

Fer. Rise, my Henrico!

Mac. Rise & receive a noble minded wife Worth troupes of other weomen.

Hen. Shame leaves me speechles.

Pedro. Gett thee a tongue againe, & pray, & mend.

Mac. Letters shall forthwith fly into Madrid To tell the King the storyes of Two Brothers, Worthy the Courtiers reading. Lovers, take hands: Hymen & gentle faeryes strew your way: Our Sessions turnes into a Bridall day.

All. Fare thee well, Englishman.

Pike. I will ring peales of prayers of you all, My Lords & noble Dons.

Mac. Doe soe, if thou hast iust cause: howsoever, When thy swift ship cutts through the curled mayne, Dance to see England, yet speake well of Spayne.

Pike. I shall.—Where must I leave my pistoletts?

Gent. Follow mee.

[Exeunt Omnes.

FINIS.



INTRODUCTION TO THE LADY MOTHER.

The authorship of this anonymous play, now printed for the first time (from Eg. MS. 1994), is not difficult to discover. Any one who has had the patience to read the Plays of Henry Glapthorne cannot fail to be amused by the bland persistence with which certain passages are reproduced in one play after another. Glapthorne's stock of fancies was not very extensive, but he puts himself to considerable pains to make the most of them. In The Lady Mother we find the same ornaments spread out before us, many of them very tawdry at their best. Glapthorne's editor has striven to show that the weak-kneed playwright was a fellow-pupil of John Milton's at St. Paul's. One cannot think of the two names together without calling to mind the "lean and flashy songs" and "scrannel pipes of wretched straw" in Lycidas.

Yet Glapthorne was a man of some parts. He had little enough dramatic power, but he writes occasionally with tenderness and feeling. In his poetical garden rank weeds choke up the flower-beds; but still, if we have patience to pursue the quest, we may pick here and there a musk-rose or a violet that retains its fragrance. He seems to have taken Shirley as his master; but desire in the pupil's case outran performance. It is, indeed, a pitiful fall from the Grateful Servant, a honey-sweet old play, fresh as an idyl of Theocritus, to the paltry faded graces of the Lady's Privilege.

A note at the end of The Lady Mother in the hand-writing of William Blagrave, acting for the Master of the Revels, shows that the play was licensed in October, 1635. From a passage in II., 1, it would seem to have been produced at the Salisbury Court Theatre in Whitefriars. In the same year Glapthorne's comedy of the Hollander, according to the title-page, was being acted at the Cockpit, Drury Lane. His other pieces were produced rather later. I am inclined to think that The Lady Mother, in spite of the wild improbability of the plot and the poorness of much of the comic parts, is our author's best work. In such lines as the following (IV., 1) there is a little flickering of pathos:—

"Enough, good friend; no more. Had a rude Scythian, ignorant of tears, Unless the wind enforced them from his eyes, Heard this relation, sure he would have wept; And yet I cannot. I have lost all sense Of pitty with my womanhood, and now That once essentiall Mistress of my soule, Warme charity, no more inflames my brest Then does the glowewormes uneffectuall fire The ha[n]d that touches it. Good sir, desist The agravation of your sad report; [Weepe. Ive to much griefe already."

The "glowewormes uneffectuall fire" is of course pilfered from Hamlet, but it is happily introduced. There is some humour in the scene (I., 2) where the old buck, Sir Geoffrey, who is studying a compliment to his mistress while his hair is being trimmed by his servant before the glass, puts by the importunity of his scatter-brain'd nephew and the blustering captain, who vainly endeavour to bring him to the point and make him disburse. On the whole I am confident that The Lady Mother will be found less tedious than any other of Glapthorne's pieces.



THE LADY MOTHER: A COMEDY.

BY HENRY GLAPTHORNE.

Written in 1635, and now printed for the first time.



The Play of The Lady Mother.



Actus Primus.

(SCENE 1.)

Enter Thorowgood, Bonvill & Grimes.

Bon. What? will it be a match man? Shall I kneele to thee and aske thee blessing, ha?

Tho. Pish! I begin to feare her, she does Dally with her affection: I admire itt.

Bon. Shee and her daughters Created were for admiration only, And did my Mistress and her sister not Obscure their mothers luster fancy could not Admitt a fuller bewty.

Tho. Tis easier to expresse Where nimble winds lodge, ore investigate An eagles passage through the agill ayre Then to invent a paraphrase to expresse How much true virtue is indebted to their Unparaleld perfections.

Bon. Nay[56], but shall I not be acquainted with your designe? when we must marry, faith to save charges of two wedding dinners, lets cast so that one day may yeild us bridegroome,—I to the daughter and thou to the mother.

Tho. She falls off With such a soddaine ambiguitie, From the strong heate of her profesd[57] love That I conceive she intends a regular proofe Of my untainted Faith.

Grimes. Soe I thinke, too: when I was young the plaine downe-right way serv'd to woe and win a wench; but now woing is gotten, as all things else are, into the fashion; gallantts now court their Mistress with mumps & mows as apes and monke[y]s doe.

Bon. But cannot all your fluent witt interpret Why she procastinatts your promisd match? By this light, her daughter would be married tomorrow If her mother and I had concluded on the Joynture.

Tho. The most evident reason she will give me of this unwellcome protraccon is she has some new employment to put on me, which performd she has ingaged her selfe to certainty of her designing me an answerare [sic].

Enter Lovell.

Grimes. Here comes your Rivall, Mr. Thorowgood,—Alexander the Great, her Ladishipps loving Steward.

Bon. But does he affect the lady; what's his character?

Grimes. He was by trade a taylor, sir, and is the tenth part of the bumbast that goes to the setting forth of a man: his dealing consists not much in weight but in the weight of his pressing Iron, under whose tyranny you shall perceave no small shrinking.

Tho. Well said, Grimes. On!

Grimes. He has alterd himselfe out of his owne cutt since he was steward; yet, if you saw him in my ladyes Chamber you would take him for some usher of a dancing schoole, as being aptest in sight for a crosse cap.

Tho. Excellent Grimes still!

Grimes. By his cloathes you might deeme him a knight; but yet if you uncase him, you will find his sattin dublett naught but fore sleaves & brest, the back part buckram; his cloake and cape of two sorts; his roses and garters of my ladyes old Cypres: to conclude, sir, he is an ambodexter or a Jack-of-all-sides & will needs mend that which Nature made: he takes much upon him since the old Knight dyed, and does fully intend to run to hell[58] for the lady: he hates all wines and strong drinks—mary, tis but in publique, for in private he will be drunke, no tinker like him.

Bon. Peace, sirrah; observe.

Lov. So, let me see the summa totalis of my sweet ladies perfections.

Grimes. Good, he has her in whole already.

Tho. Peace, Grimes.

Lov. Imprimis, her faire haire; no silken sleave Can be so soft the gentle worm does weave. It[em], noe Plush or satten sleeke, I vow, May be compard unto her velvet brow. It[em], her eyes—two buttons made of iett; Her lipps gumd taffety that will not frett; Her cheeks are changeable, as I suppose,— Carnation and white, lyllie and rose.

Grimes. I, there it goes.

Bon. I protest I comend him; he goes through stitch with her like the Master of his trade.

Lov. It[em] her brests two bottomes[59] be of thred, By which love to his laborinth is led. Her belly—

Grimes. I, marry, sir, now he comes to the purpose.

Lov. Her Belly a soft Cushion where no sinner But her true love must dare stick a pin in her.

Grimes. That line has got the prick and prayse from all the rest.

Lov. Butt to that stuff of stuffs, that without scoff Is Camills haire or else stand further off.

Grimes. How many shreads has he stoale here to patch up this lady?

Lov. The totall some of my blest deity Is the magazine of Natures treasury.— Soe, this made up, will I take an occasion to dropp where she may find it. But, stay; here's company.

Bon. Mr. Lovell.

Lov. And see, I shall divulge myselfe.

Grimes. A foole, I doubt not.

Bon. Is your lady stirring?

Lov. She is risen, sir, and early occupied in her occasions spiritual, and domesticke busines.

Enter Lady & Magdalen.

Lady. Sweet Mr. Bonvil. The simple entertain[m]ent you receave here I feare will scare you from us: you're so early Up, you do not sleepe well.

Tho. I cannot looke on her But Ime as violent as a high-wrought sea In my desires; a fury through my eyes At every glance of hers invades my heart.

Lady. What ayles you, servant? are you not well?

Bon. 'Tis his humour, Madam; he is accustomed, though it be in company, to hold a dialogue with his thoughts. Please you, lady, to give his fever libertie; the fit will soon be overpasd.

Tho. She bears her age well, or she is not sped Far into th'vale of yeares: she has an eye Piercing as is an Eglets when her damme, Training[60] her out into the serene air, Teaches her face the Sunbeames.

Bon. Madam, I fear my friend Hath falne againe in love; he practises To himself new speeches; you and he are not Broke off, I hope.

Lady. O, sir, I value my servant at a higher rate: We two must not easily disagree. Sir Alexander, attend in Mr. Bonvill. My daughter's up by this time, and I would have him give her the first salute. You had best be wary, Bonvill; the young cittizen or the souldier will rob you of her.

Bon. O, we feare not them: shall we goe, sir?

Lady. Nay, Ile detaine my servant.

Bon. Harke you, sir, strike home; doe you heare?

[Exeunt Bonvill, Grimes, Lovell & Mag.

Lady. Servant, have you leasure To hear what I inioyne you?

Tho. Your good pleasure.

Lady. What shall I doe? I can no longer beare This flame so mortall; I have wearid heaven With my entreaties and shed teares enough To extinguish Aetna, but, like water cast On coales, they ad unto my former heate A more outragious fervor. I have tried All modest meanes to give him notice of My violent love, but he, more dull then earth, Either conceives them not or else, possessd With full affection of my daughter, scornes me.

Tho. Madam, wilt please you to deliver your pleasure?

Lady. Thorowgood, Not clouds of lightning, or the raging bolt Heavens anger darts at the offending world, Can with such horrid rigor peirce the earth As these sad words I must demonstrate to you Doe my afflicted brest.—Ime lost; my tongue When I would speake, like to an Isicle Disturbd by motion of unruly winds Shakes to pronounce't, yet freezes to my roofe Faster by th'agitation.

Tho. Your full Judgment Could not have found an apter instrument For the performance of what you designe, Then I experience how much any man May become passive in obedience To the intent of woman, in my truth. Set the abstrusest comment on my faith Imagination can resolve, my study Shall mak't as easie as the plainest lines Which hearty lovers write.

Enter Timothy.

Tim. Madam, this letter and his humble vowes From your deserving sonn.

Lady. He writes me here he will be here tomorrow. Where left you him?

Tim. At your right worthy Cosens.

Lady. What manner of man is this Mr. Thurston He brings with him?

Tim. A most accomplishd gentleman.

Lady. 'Tis well: Mr. Thoroegood, Weele walke into the Gallery, and there Discourse the rest.

Tho. I long till I receive the audience of it.

Tim. Your ladiship will vouchsafe to meete The Gent[lemen] in your Coach some two miles hence?

Lady. Ile thinke of it.

[Exeunt omnes.



(SCENE 2.)

_Enter Sucket and Crackby[61].

Suc_. Come, deport your selfe with a more elated countenance: a personage of your rare endowments so dejected! 'tis fitt for groomes, not men magnanimous, to be so bashfull: speake boldly to them, that like cannon shott your breath may batter; you would hardly dare to take in townes and expugne fortresses, that cannot demolish a paltry woman.

Crac. Pox of this Country, it has metamorphisd me. Would I were in my native Citty ayre agen, within the wholesome smell of seacole: the vapor[s] rising from the lands new dunged are more infectious to me then the common sewer ith sicknes time. Ime certaine of my selfe Ime impudent enough and can dissemble as well as ere my Father did to gett his wealth, but this country has tane my edge of quite; but I begin to sound the reason of it.

Suc. What may it be imagind.

Crac. Why, here are no Taverns where for my crowne I can have food provocative, besides the gaining of many precious phrase[s] for (from?) divers gallants new frenchefied. Theirs nothing to excite desire but creame and eggs, and they are so common every clowne devoures them. Were each egge at twelve pence, or as deare as lobsters, I could afford to eate them, but I hate all that is vulgar; 'tis most base.

Suc. Pish, tis dificience in your resolution: Suppose your mistress were an enemy You were to encounter in sterne duell.

Crac. 'Tis well my Enemie is a woman; I should feare else to suppose the meeting. Resolution! how can a man have resolution that drinkes nought but ale able to kill a Dutchman? Conduit water is nector to it,

Suc. Nay, but I say, suppose—

Crac. Suppose! Why here are no wenches halfe so amorous as Citty tripennies[62]: those that are bewtifull the dew is not so cold. I did but begg a curtesie of a chambermaide, and she laughd at me! Ile to the Citty againe, that's certaine; where for my angell I can imbrace pl[enty]. If I stay here a little longer, for want of exercise I shall forget whether a woman be fish or flesh: I have almost don't already.

Suc. O, heeres your uncle, move him; you conceive me; He must disburse.

Crac. And 'tis as hard to wrest a penny from him as from a bawd.

Enter Sir Gefferie and Bunche.

Sir Geff. Erect that locke a little; theres a hayre Which, like a foreman of a shop, does strive To be above his fellowes. Pish! this glasse Is falsly silverd, maks me look as gray As if I were 4 score.

Bun. What does he want of it?

Sir Geff. Combe with more circumspection, knave; these perfumes Have a dull odor; there is meale among them, My Mrs. will not scent them.

Crac. Uncle, my friend, My martiall fellow is deficient In this ubiquitarie mettall, silver: You must impart.

Sir Geff. This garter is not well tide, fellow: where Wert thou brought up? thou knowest not to tie A rose yet, knave: a little straiter: so, Now, tis indifferent. Who can say that I Am old now?

Bun. Marry, that can I or any one which sees you.

Suc. Death to my reputation! Sir, we are gent[lemen] and deserve regard: Will you not be responsible?

Sir Geff. Alas, good Captaine, I was meditating how to salute my lady this morning. You have bin a traviler: had I best do it in the Italian garbe or with a Spanish gravity? your French mode is grown so common every vintners boy has it as perfect as his anon, anon, sir. Hum, I must consider on it.

Crac. Nay, but uncle, uncle, shall we have answeare concerning this mony, uncle? You must disburse; that is the souldiers phrase. You see this man; regard him.

Suc. Death of vallor! I can hold no longer; I shall rise in wroth against him.

Crac. Dee heare, Uncle? you must furnish him; he wilbe irefull presently, and then a whole bagg will not satisfie him; heele eate your gold in anger and drinke silver in great sack glasses.

Sir Geff. Pox o'this Congee; 't shalbe thus, no thus; That writhing of my body does become me Infinitly. Now to begett an active Complement that, like a matins sung By virgins, may enchant her amorous ear. The Spanish Basolas[63] manos sounds, methinks, As harsh as a Morisco kettledrum; The French boniour is ordinary as their Disease: hees not a gent that cannot parlee. I must invent some new and polite phrases.

Crac. Shall I have answeare yet, sir.

Sir Geff. Pish, you disturbe me.—Gratulate her rest, Force an encomium on her huswifry For being up so early.—Bunch, where is my nephew?

Crac. I have bin here this halfe hower and could not get answere.

Sir Geff, To what, good nephew?—I was meditating a little seriously.

Crac. Concerning this white earth.

Sir Geff. Youde know the nature of it? If it be marle 'tis good to manure land; if clay, to make tobacco pipes.

Crac. I meane mony.

Sir Geff. O mony, Nephew: Ide thought youde learnd ith Citty How to use mony: here we do imploy it To purchase land and other necessaries.

Suc. Infamy to fame and noble reputation! Old man, dost thou disdaine valour? I tell thee, Catterpillar, I must have mony.

Sir Geff. 'Tis reason good you should; it is fitting to cherish men of armes. There is a treasurer in the county, Captaine, pays souldiers pensions: if any be due to you Ile write my letter, you shall receive it.

Bun. Faith, there he mett with you.

Crac. I see a storme a coming. Uncle, I wilbe answerable upon account: my souldier must have mettall.

Sir Geff. Iron and Steele is most convenient for Souldiers; but, since you say it, Nephew, he shall have it: how much must it be?

Suc. A score of Angells shall satisfie for the confrontment you have offred me in being dilatory.

Sir Geff. Bunch, deliver him ten pounds;—but, dee heare.

Bunch, let be in light gold; 'twill serve his turn as well as heavier: it may be he is one of those projectors transports it beyond sea.

Enter Magdalen.

Mag. Sir, I come to give you notice my ladyes walkd into the garden.

Sir Geff. Life! is she upp so early?

Mag. An hower since, beleeve it.

Crac. Is my Mistress stirring?

Mag. In truth, I know not.

Sir Geff. Nephew, demeane your selfe with[64] all respect Toward the gentlewoman you affect. You must learne with here since the citty Could spare you none.—Ile to the lady.

[Exeunt Bunch, Sir Geff. and Mag.

Crac. Captaine, shalls into th'Celler, Captaine?

Suc. I like the Motion.

Crac. Come away, then: there is indifferent liquor in this house, but that ith towne is most abominable. Weele drinke our owne healths, Captaine.

Suc. Well considered; 'tis for our reputation.

[Exeunt omnes.



(SCENE 3.)

Enter Bonvill, Clarinna, Belizea and Grimes.

Bon. Come, you are wantons both: If I were absent, You would with as much willingness traduce My manners to them. What Idiots are wee men To tender our services to women Who deride us for our paines!

Cla. Why can you great wise men who esteeme us women But equall with our parrets or at best But a degree above them, prating creatures Devoid of reason, thinke that when we see A man whose teeth will scarce permitt his tongue To say,—(he is soe like December come A woing to the Spring, with all the ensignes Of youth and bravery as if he meant To dare his land-lord Death to single rapier)— We have not so much spleene as will engender A modest laughter at him?

Bel. Nay, theres his Nephew, Crackby, your sweet servant.

Clar. My Servant! I do admire that man's impudence, How he dare speake to any woman.

Bon. Why, is he not flesh and blood?

Clar. Yes, but I question whether it be mans or no. They talk of changlings: if there be such things I doubt not but hees one of them.

Bel. Fie,[65] Sister; 'tis a prettye gent, I know you love him.

Clar. You hitt it there, I faith,[66]—You know the man?

Bon. Yes, very well.

Clar. Have you then ever seene such another monster? He was begott surely in the wane of the moone, When Natures tooles were at laime Vulcans forge A sharpning, that she was forced to shake this lumpe together.

Bon. What man for heavens sake could your nicenes fancy?

Clar. Not you of all that ever I beheld.

Bel. And why, good wisdome?

Clar. Nay, do not scratch me because he is your choyse, forsooth.

Bel. Well, we shall see the goodly youth your curiositie has elected, when my brother returnes, I hope.

Clar. I hope soe, too; I marvill where this Cub is, He is not roaring here yet.

Enter Thorogood.

Bon. Frend, thou hast lost The absolu[t]st characters deliverd by this lady: Would thou hadst come a little sooner.

Tho. Ladies, I must desire your pardon for my friend: I have some busines will a while deprive him Your sweet companies.

Clar. Take him away; we are weary of him.

_Bel_. Sister, lets leave the gentlemen alone, And to our chambers. [_Exeunt Bel. and Clar.

Bon. Grimes, put to the doore and leave us.— Whats the matter? [Exit Grimes.

Tho. Freind, Ere I begin my story I would wish you Collect yourselfe, awake your sleeping Spiritts, Invoake your patience, all thats man about you To ayd your resolution; for I feare The newes I bring will like a palsie shake Your soules indifferenst temper.

Bon. Prethee, what is't which on the soddaine can Be thus disastrous? 'tis beyond my thoughts.

Tho. Nay, slight it not: the dismall ravens noate Or mandrakes screches, to a long-sick man Is not so ominous as the heareing of it Will be to you; 'twill like a frost congeale Your lively heate,—yet it must out, our frendship Forbids concealment.

Bon. Do not torture me; Ime resolute to heare it.

Tho. Your soe admired Mistress Who parted from you now, Belisea,—

Bon. You have don well before Your sad relation to repeat that sound; That holy name whose fervor does excite A fire within mee sacred as the flame The vestalls offer: see how it ascends As if it meant to combat with the sunn For heats priority! Ime arm'd gainst death, Could thy words blow it on me.

Tho. Here me, then: Your Mistress—

Bon. The Epitome of virtues, Who like the pretious reliques of a Saint Ought only to be seene, not touchd.

Tho. Yet heare me; Cease your immoderate prayses: I must tell you You doe adore an Idoll; her black Soule Is tainted as an Apple which the Sunn Has kist to putrifaction; she is (Her proper appelation sounds so foule I quake to speake it) a corrupted peice, A most lascivious prostitute.

Bon. Howes this? Speake it agen, that if the sacrilege Thou'st made gainst vertue be but yet sufficient To yeild thee dead, the iteration of it May damne thee past the reach of mearcye. Speake it, While thou hast utterance left; but I conceit A lie soe monstrous cannot chuse but choake The vocall powers, or like a canker rott Thy tung in the delivery.

Tho. Sir, your rage Cannot inforce a recantacion from me: I doe pronounce her light as is a leafe In withered Autumne shaken from the trees By the rude winds: noe specld serpent weares More spotts than her pide honor.

_Bon_. So, no more: Thy former words incenst me but to rage; These to a fury which noe sea of teares, Though shed by queenes or Orphants, shall extinguish; Nay, should my mother rise from her cold urne And weepe herself to death againe to save Thee from perdition, 't should not; were there placd Twixt thee and mee a host of blasing starrs, Thus I would through them to thee! [_Draw.

Tho_. Had I knowne Your passion would have vanquishd reason thus, You should have met your ruine unadvisd; Hugd your destruction; taken what the lust Of other men had left you. But the name And soule of friendship twixt us I had thought Would have retain'd this most unmanly rage Gainst me, for declaration of a truth By which you might be ransomed from the armes Of her adulterate honor.

Bon. Yes, kind foole; Perswade an Indian who has newly div'd Into the ocean and obtaind a pearle, To cast it back againe; labour t'induce Turkes to contemne their Alcoron ere you strive To make me creditt my Belissia false. [Kneele. Forgive me, holy love, that I delay So long to scourge the more than heathnish wrongs Of this iniurious villaine, whome me thinks— Blow him hence to hell With his contagious slander! yet before Thou doest fall by me as, if heaven have not Lost all its care of Innocence, thou must doe, Tell me what Divell urgd thee to detract From virtue thus, for of thy selfe thou couldst not (Unlesse with thee shee hath bin vicious) know it Without some information: whoes the Author Of this prodigious calumnie?

Tho. Her mother.

Bon. Ha! her mother?

Tho. Yes, she; that certaine Oracle of truth, That pretious mine of honor, which before She would exhaust, or yeild your innocence A spoyle to vice, chose rather to declare Her daughter's folly; and with powerfull teares Besought me, by the love I bore to goodnes, Which in her estimation had a roome Higher than Nature, to reveale it to you And disingage you from her.

Bon. Soe, rest there, [_Put up_. Ere thou beest drawne were the whole sex reduced To one, left only to preserve earths store, In the defence of women; who,[67] but that The mothers virtues stands betweene heavens Justice Would for the daughters unexampled sinne Be by some soddaine Judgment swept from earth As creatures too infectious. Gentle freind, An humor, heavy as my soule was steep'd In _Lethe_, seases on me and I feare My passion will inforce me to transgresse Manhood; I would not have thee see me weepe; I prethee leave mee, solitude will suite Best with my anguish. [_Sitt downe.

Tho_. Your good Genius keepe you. [_Exit_.

[Enter Belisea.]

Bel. Why have you staid thus long? Young Crackby and his friend are newly up And have bin with us. My sister has had The modest bout with them: 'tis such a wench. Are you a sleepe? why doe you not looke up? What muse you on?

Bon. Faith, I was thinking where In the whole world to find an honest woman.

Bel. An excellent meditation! What doe you take me for, my Mother and my Sister?

Bon. You alway excepted; tis but melancholly; Prethee bestow a kisse upon me, love; Perchance that will expell it.

Bel. If your cure be wrought soe easily, pittie you should perish for want of physick. [Kiss him.

Bon. She kisses as sheed wont; were she unchast, Surely her breath would like a Stigian mist Or some contagious vapor blast me; but 'Tis sweet as Indian balme, and from her lips Distills[68] a moisture pretious as the Dew The amorous bounty of the wholesome morne Throwes on rose buds; her cheeks are fresh and pure As the chast ayre that circumscribes them, yet Theres that within her renders her as foule As the deformed'st Ethiope.

Bel. Whats the matter? Why do you staire so on me?

Bon. To admire That such a goodly building as this same Should have such vild stuff in itt.

Bel. What meanes this language?

Bon. Nothing, but only to informe you what You know to well alreadie: Belisia, you are —(I cannot call her whore)—a perjurd woman.

Bel. Defend me innocence! I scarce remember That ever I made oath and therefore wonder How I should breake on.

Bon. Have you not with imprecations beg'd Heavens vengeance if you ere lovd man but me?

Bel. And those same heavens are vouchers[69] I've kept my vowes with that strict purity That I have done my honor.

Bon. I believe thee; The divell sometimes speaks truth. Intemperate woman, Thoust made that name a terme convertible With fury, otherwise I should call thee soe, How durst thou with this impudence abuse My honest faith? did I appeare a guest So infinitly worthles that you thought The fragments of thy honour good enough To sate my appetite, what other men Had with unhallowd hands prophaind? O woman, Once I had lockd in thy deceiving brest A treasure wealthier then the Indies both Can in their glory boast, my faithfull heart, Which I do justly ravish back from it Since thou art turnd a strumpet.

Bel. Doe you thinke I am what you have term'd me?

Bon. Doe I thinke When I behold the wanton Sparrows change Their chirps to billing, they are chast? or see The Reeking Goate over the mountaine top Pursue his Female, yet conceit him free From wild concupiscence? I prithee tell me, Does not the genius of thy honor dead Haunt thee with apparitions like a goast Of one thou'dst murdrd? dost not often come To thy bed-side and like a fairy pinch Thy prostituted limbs, then laughing tell thee 'Tis in revenge for myriads of black tortures Thy lust inflicted on it?

Bel. Have you don? Give me a little leave then ere my greife Surround my reason. Witnes, gratious heaven, Who, were you not offended at some sinn I have unwittingly comitted, would Send sacred innocence it selfe to pleade How much 'tis iniurd in me, that with zeale Above the love of mothers I have tendred This misinformd man. Ile not aske the authors Of this report, I doe forgive them; may A happier fate direct you to some other May love you better; and my fate conferr On me with speed some sudden sepulcher. [Exit.

Bon. I shall grow childish, too; my passions strive For my dead love to keepe my greife alive.

[Exit.



Actus Secundus.

(SCENE 1.)[70]

Enter Sucket, Crackbie, Grimes.

Gr. Gentlemen, the rarest scene of mirth towards!

Suc. Where? how, good Grimes?

Gr. Oh, the steward, the steward, my fine Temperat steward, did soe lecture us before my ladie for drinking ... at midnight, has gott the key of the wine C[ellar from] Timothie the Butler and is gon downe to make [himself] drunke in pryvate.

Enter Timothie.

Tim. Gent[lemen], Grimes, away, away! I watcht him into t[he Cellar] when I saw him chose forthe one of the b[ottles] of sacke, and hether is retyringe with all exp[edition]. Close, close, and be not seene.

Crac. Oh, my fine steward! [Exeunt.

Enter Alexander Lovell with a Bottle of Sacke and a Cup.

Lov. Soe here I may be private, and privacie is best. I am the Steward and to be druncke in publicke, I say and I sayt, were to give ill examples. Goe to, I, and goe to; tis good to be merry and wise; an inch in quietness is better than an ell of sorrow. Goe to and goe to agen, for I say and I sayt, there is no reason but that the parson may forget that ere he was clerke[71]. My lady has got a cast of her eye since she tooke a survey of my good parts. Goe to and goe to, for I say and I sayt, they are signes of a rising; flesh is frayle and women are but women, more then men but men. I am puft up like a bladder, sweld with the wind[72] of love; for go to and go to, I say and I sayt, this love is a greife, and greife a sorrowe, and sorrows dry. Therefore come forth, thou bottle of affection[73]; I create thee my companion, and thou, cup, shalt be my freind. Why, so now,—goe to and goe to: lets have a health to our Mrss, and first to myne; sweet companion, fill to my kind freind; by thy leave, freind, Ile begin to my companion: health to my Mrs! Soe, now my hands in: companion, fill, and heres a health to my freinds Mrs. Very good, and now I will conclude with yours, my deare companion: stay, you shall pledge me presently, tis yet in a good hand; I will pledge both your Mrss first. Goe to and go to,[74] freind; thou alwayes lookst on me like a dry rascall; give him his liquor; and soe with my Mrs I conclude. What say you, Companion? ha, do you compare your Mrs with myne? howes that? such another word and thou darst, Sirrah! off with your Capp and doe her Reverence! wilt tell me soe? goe to, I say and I sayt; Ile make better languadge come out of that mouth of thine, thou wicked Carkasse. Freind, heres to thee:[75] Ile shake thee, thou empty Rascall, to peeces, and as Hector drew Achilles bout the walls of Troy at his horse tayle, so shalt thou at a doggs tayle be dragd in vild disgrace throughout the towne. Goe to and goe to, I say and I sayt; Ile have the dragd, sirr, ah I[le] have the dragd; perswade me not, good friend; let him yeild me a reason[76] if he can. I, I, he had need to be squeezd; why tis true, this is one, but not to purpose. Oh, would you whisper with me? umh, umh, umh, away, Ile heare no more: why, how now frend? ha, ha, ha, you have got a Cup to much; umh, goe to and goe to, you can hold no more, I see that, at this time; let me ene bring you to your chambers. [Flings away the bottle and sleeps.

_Enter Timothy, Grimes, Sucket, Crackby, with flaggons of wine.

Suc_. 'Tis well don, cherish valour.

Crac. Creditt me, my Captaine carries fortitude enough for a whole legion; twas his advice tooke in[77] the Busse[?], and at Mastricht his courage did conclude Papenhams overthrow.[78]

Suc. Pish, you to farr exemply[fy]. I have bin at some few skermishes, kild halfe a score or soe; but what of yt? men are but men.

Tim. What wines that, fellow Grimes?

Grimes. Sack by this light, the Emperor of liquors! Captaine, here tis well keepe of push of pike yet peirce like shott of Cannon: a Cup of this upon an onslaught, Captain?

Suc. Is beveredge for a Generall: I doe use to drinke it when I am engagd against a squadron or a whole company.

Grimes. He meanes of drunkards.

[Lovell grunts.

Suc. Ha! Cinielaro[?] an ambuscado! see, whos that lyes there pardue[79]? fort of Mars! my wroth shall eate him up.

Grimes. Soe, soe, now softely letts to him: ha, alreadie[80] dead drunke, as I am vertuous. Assist me gent[lemen]; Timothy, hast thou thy Salvatorie about thee.

Tim. Yes, heere, here.[81]

Grimes. Quick, quick; make some plasters and clapp em on his face: here, bind this napkin about his hand; who has a garter, lets see, to bind it up?

Suc. Some blood, my sonn of Mercury, were neceseary for consummation of the jest.

Crac. And here, Grimes, ty this cloath about his head: oh, for some blood!

Grimes. Here, I have prickt my finger.

Tim. Let you and I, Mr. Crackby, goe to buffitts for a bloody nose.

Crac. No, no, you shall pardon me for that, Tim[82]; no, no; no boyes play.

Suc. So, so; now set him in the chaires. Hart of valour! he looks like a Mapp oth world. Death, what are these?[83]

Enter Musike.

Grimes. The Town Waites whome I appointed to come and visitt us.

Suc. 'Twas well donn: have you ere a good song?

Tim. Yes, they have many.

Suc. But are they bawdy? come, sir, I see by your simpring it is you that sings, but do not squeake like a French Organ-pipe nor make faces as if you were to sing a Dirge. Your fellowes may goe behind the arras: I love to see Musitions in their postures imitate those ayrey soules that grace our Cittie Theaters, though in their noats they come as short of them as Pan did of Apollo. [Musike.

Grimes. Well, sir, this is indifferent Musicke, trust my judgment. Sing, boy. [A song.

Crac. Now on my life this boy does sing as like the boy[84] at the Whitefryers as ever I heard: how say you Captain?

Suc. I, and the Musicks like theires: come, Sirra, whoes your Poett?

Crac. Some mad wag, I warrant him: is this a new song?

Mus. Tis the first edition, sir: none else but we had ever coppie of it.

Suc. But you wilbe intreated to let a gent have it?

Mus. By no meanes; the author has sworne to the contrary, least it should grow so wonderous old and turne a Ballad.

Crac. Well said, Captain; the tother health, Captain: heres good wine, good Tobackoe, good everything: had we but a good wench or two twere excellent.

Suc. Great Alexander, does not dreame of this, I warrant yee.

Grimes. Oh, hees fast enough; heele be ready to cast up his accounts the easier when my lady calls him.

Crac. Come, come; who payes the Musicke? Captain, you have my purse.

Suc. Truths a truth from Infidell or Pagan: I am in trust, and that's beleife, and so it shalbe saved. Pay the Musick? umh, where are they? let me see, how many's of you, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6: good, can any of you daunce?

Mus. Daunce? Yes, sir, we can shake our legs or soe.

Suc. So said so don, brave ladd; come, letts have a daunce, some daunce and some play.

Mus. Anything to please you, noble Captaine.

Suc. Lively then, my hearts; some country Jigg or soe. Oh those playes that I have seene of youre, with their Jiggs[85] ith tayles of them[86] like your French forces! Death, I am a rorging (roaring?) boy; but, come, stir your shanks nimbly or Ile hough ye. Strike up there!

[Daunce.

Grimes. Well don, my hearts; drinke, drinke.

Suc. Goe you in, Ile follow you.

Om[nes]. Come, Captaine.

Suc. Farewell, Steward.

Mus. Dee heare, Captaine?

Suc. With me, my fine treble knave? umh, thou dost tickle minikin as nimbly—

Mus. We hope your worship will consider our paines?

Suc. How, my fine knave? letts see, who were the dauncers?

Mus. Come forward there! nay, I told you he was ever bountifull: oh, good Captaine!

Suc. Let me see: I, thou art hart of vallor: thou didst daunce well, thou deservest—, I say no more: and who played?

Mus. Wee.

Suc. You? well sayd; you plaid and you daunc'd, you say good; let me see, halfe a peece or—

Mus. Blesse your Captaineship.

Suc. You plaid, you say, and you dauncd: umh, well, why then you that dauncd must pay those that plaid.

Mus. How, sir, how?

Suc. Ever, ever, whilst you live, Jarvice;[87] the dauncers alwayes payes the musike. Wilt breake custome? No, or there a pawne for you. —Mr. Steward. Farewell. [Exit.

Mus. This is your bountifull Captaine! a rope of his bounsing! But stay, lets play to the steward; it may be when he wakes we may worke him to't.

Omnes. Content, content. [Musike softe.

Lov. Umh[88], play a healthe: soe; say, it shall goe rounde: goe to, I say and I sayt, it shall goe round. Umh, where is this fidle? in the ayre? I can perceave nothing. Where is my kinde friend and my fine companion? come, we will be friends again; goe to, we will. Umh, plaistered and bound up? bloody? how comes this? goe too and goe to; if I have done any mischiefe or bene over valiant in my drinke to kill a man or soe, why 'twas in my drinke, not I, and let my drinke be hangd for't; or, I say and I sayt, let um stay till I am drunke againe and then hange me; I care not, I shall not be sensible of it. Oh this sack! it makes a coward a Hector: the Greekes and Troians drinke no other; and that and a wench (for theres the divell out) made um cuffe ten yeares together, till at length when they had bled more than they coulde drinke they grew sober, the contented Cuckold tooke his wife home againe and all were good frends[89]. [Sease Musicke] But stay, the musikes husht; I hope theyle appeare; I doe feale no such paine in my wounds that I had need of musicke to bring me to sleepe. Blesse me whose this? ha[90]!

Enter Grimes disguised.

Grimes. How does your worshipp? Mr. Steward, dee feele your selfe at ease? I am hartely sorry for your misfortune?

Lov. Misfortune? ha, what misfortune? now heaven and't be thy will—

Grimes. Pray heaven they be alive.

Lov. Ha, alive? in the name of drinke what have I don? where did you find me, ha?

Grimes. Why, sir, comming out—umh, umh—

Lov. Out with't, man.

Grimes. Out of a bad-house, sir.

Lov. A Bawdie house, I warrant.

Grimes. Yes sir.

Lov. Why, now its out.

Grimes. I, and tis well your worships out.

Lov. Noe, noe, it had bin better had I never gon in; but on, on.

Grimes. You were, sir,—as they say, sir—you had gotten a Cup to much.

Lov. Hang Cupps, my friend excepted; goe to; speake plaine; I was drunke was I?

Grimes. Yes, sir; you were not able to stand when you came out, sir?

Lov. Out of the Bawdy-house? I beleave thee; nay, I am a right Lovell I, I look like a shotten herring now for't. Jone's as good as my lady in the darke wee me. I have no more Roe than a goose in me; but on to the mischiefe, on.

Grimes. You beate the Bawd downe with the Chamber dore and bade her keepe that for the Reckoning.

Lov. Umh, there was witt in my drinke, I perceive; on.

Grimes. Then, sir, you tooke up a Spitt.

Lov. A Spitt?

Grimes. Yes, sir, and broacht one of the wenches out.

Lov. How?

Grimes. Oh, sir, you made such a hole in her bakside[91] you might have turnd— [Blows his nose.

Lov. What? thy nose int?

Grimes. Had I been there it had been at your service.

Lov. Thanke thee; thou shouldst have lost nothing by it.

Grimes. Then went Tobackoe pipes to wrack, and oh the black potts sufferd without measure; nay, you swore (and for it paid your twelve pence) that if you were maior youd come disguisd on purpose to confou[nd] 'um.

Lov. Ist possible I could doe this?

Grimes. This, sir? Why you kickd one flat-nosd wench that snuffled, and swore she was a puritan.

Lov. Did not I pay for that oath too?

Grimes. No, sir; you bid the Constable keepe reckoning till it came to a some and you would pay him in totall. So, sir, with the spit in your hand away you runn, and we after yee, where you met with a roaring Captain.

Lov. Ha, now, now comes the misfortune.

Grimes. Then you stopt and stood a while waving to and froe, as in suspense; at length you fell, with a forward thrust, quite through his heart.

Lov. Ha, through his heart? the Captaines dead then?

Grimes. No sir, twas through a silver heart he weares in memory of his Mrs.

Lov. Ime glad of that: thou strukst me through the heart with thy newes.

Grimes. You being downe, on fell the Captain like a tyrannicall Dutch man of war that shewes no mercy to the yeelding enemy, and ere we could bring succor gave you these wounds, which being dark we brought you home as privately as possible, sett you to sleepe and here stayd till your waking.

Lov. Yare honest fellowes; goe to and go to, I say and I sait agen, yare honest fellowes and shall not be unrewarded: looke you, theres for you—and be but sylent in't.

Grimes. As is my instrument, Sir. Coods me! what, have they torne away the back of your satteen Doublet? the Canvas is seene.

Lov. Umh, no, but they have stolne my velvet Jerkin.

Grimes. I, and dam'd your Dublet.

Lov. Tis well; goe; thanks; goe, Ile see you shortly; you and your Companie shall play at my ladyes wedding. I say no more, goe to; I love you and I thanke you,

Grimes. I thanke you, good Mr. Steward. [Discovers

Lov. Whoes this? Grimes?

Grimes. Even he that has thus begrimd yee, my fine drunken Steward. I can cure you, toe; come, let me be your Surgion.

Lov. Thou shalt be my hangman first, Rascall.

Grimes. You wonnot murder? helpe Captain, Mr. Crackby, Tim!

Enter Omnes.

Omnes. How now! how now! what's the matter?

Lov. Whoop! hell broke loose! tis good to shun the Divell. [Exit.

Grimes. Not if you meet him in the likenes of a bottle of Sack, good Steward.[92]

Tim. Why this is excellent.

Suc. Grimes, let me hugg thee, thou sonn of witt.

Grimes. Nay, letts not leave him thus.

Crac. Leade on, weele follow.

[Exeunt Omnes.

Finis Actus Secundi.



Actus Tertius.

(SCENE 1.)

Enter Sir Geffry and Lady.

Sir Geff. But I beseech you, Madam; what greater accession[93] can you wish then me for husband? I have it here thats sattisfaction for the lustiest widdow twixt this and London. Say, will you love me? Ime in hast and hate demurrs; if you refuse I must seeke out: I have a little moysture and would be loth to hav't dride for want of exercise.—What say you, lady?

Lady. Sir, for your love I thanke you; for your wealth I want it not; but yet I doe not find A disposicon in my selfe to marriage.

Sir Geff. That will not serve my turne; I am no knight Who weares the spurr of honour without Rowells To prick a woman forwards: I ride post To Marriage and resolve at the next stage To take my Inn up. You have here Two beautifull young gallants to your daughters: Since youle not be my wife yet be my mother; Ile marry any of them, which you please, And hood her with the bagg [badge?] of honor. Lady, What say you to this motion.

Lady. My daughters wills are not in my command: If you can purchase either of their hearts, My free consent shall follow.

Sir Geff. Nay, then, they will fall out for me, Madam, I am most fortunate in atcheiving virgins.

Enter Bonville.

Save you, sweet youth, the bewties of your Mrs. Crowne your desires. Are you a suiter?

Bon. Madam, I have occasions of importance Wishes a little privacy with you.

Lady. With me, sweet Mr. Bonvill? Sir Geffrey, Pray you vouchsafe your absence; at more leasure We shall discourse.

Sir Geff. With all my heart: Ile to the wenches. [Exit.

Bon. Madam we are alone?

Lady. You did desire we should.

Bon. But are you sure none can oreheare us.

Lady. Unles we be to loud: What mooves you to require this secresie?

Bon. I come to aske a question, which the winds; If I could deafe them, should not heare for feare Their repercussive Eccho should declare it To all our infamies.

Lady. What ist, I pray you?

Bon. Your daughter whom I was a servant to, —I must deliver it in the homeliest phrase— Is she dishonest?

Lady. You urge a repetition, gentle sir, Of a sad truth: she is.

Bon. It cannot be In reason comprehensible a mother Should for a stranger blurr her daughters fame, Were it untruth. I am confirmd; this favor Transcends requitall: if a man misled By error gainst the diety, gross enough For his damnation, owe a gratitude To his converter, I am engag'd to you For my delivery from her.

Lady. 'Twas no more Then what my honor obligd me And my respect to vertue, which in you I should have murdred by my silence; but I have not greife enough left to lament The memory of her folly: I am growne Barren of teares by weeping; but the spring Is not yet quite exhausted. [Weeps.

Bon. Keepe your teares Lest the full clouds, ambitious that their drops Should mix with yours, unteeme their big wombd laps And rayse a suddeine deluge. Gratious madam, The oftner you reherse her losse the more You intimate the gaine I have acquird By your free bounty, which to me appeares So farr transcending possibility Of satisfaction that, unles you take My selfe for payment, I can nere discharge A debt so waytie.

Lady. Ist come to this? You speake misteriously; explaine your meaning.

Bon. To consecrate, with that devotion That holy Hermits immolate[94] theire prayers, My selfe the adorer of your vertues.

Lady. Are you serious?

Bon. No scrupulous penitent, timerous that each thought Should be a sinn, does to the priest lay ope With halfe that verity his troubled soule That I doe mine. I love you: in that word Include all ceremony. No sooner had Your information disingagd my heart Of honoring your daughter, but amazd At the immensnesse of the benefit Your goodness had cast on me, I resolvd This way to show my gratitude.

Lady. But dare you, Knowing the daughter vicious, entertaine Affection to the mother?

Bon. Dare I when I have bin long opresd with a disease, Wish pleasing health? theres vertue enough here To excite beleife in Moores that only women Have heavenly soules.

Lady. This is admirable: Did my intention tend to love, as soone I should embrace your motion in that kind As any others, wert but to afford Some small lustracon for the wrong my daughter Intended you; nay, to confesse my thought, I feele a strong propension in my selfe To yeild to you; but I am loath,[95]—your youth Will quickly loath me.

Enter Y[oung] Marlowe and Thurston.

Mar. Madam, this Gent[leman] Desires to have you know him for your son: Tis he my sister Clariana, with your licence, Wishes for husband.

Lady. A proper Gent[leman]; Ime happy she has made So iuditious an election.[96] You are very welcome, sir: conduct him in, Sonn.

[Exeunt Young Marlowe and Thurston.

Bon. Persuade me I can hate Sleepe after tedious watching, or reiect The wholesome ayre when I've bin long choakd up With sicklie foggs: sooner shall—

Lady. Desist from protestations, or employ them Mong those who have no more discretion Then to beleive them.

Bon. How, Lady?

Lady. You can in Justice now no more appeach Our mutabillities, since you have provd So manifestly [in]constant.

Bon. These are arts Orewhelme my dull capacity with horror: Inconstant!

Lady. Are the light faines erected on the tops Of lofty structures stedfast, which each wind Rules with its motion? credulous man, I thought My daughters reall vertues had inspired thee With so much confidence as not to loose The estimation of her honor for My bare assertion, without questioning The time or any the least circumstance That might confirm't. I did but this to try Your constancy: farewell. [Exit.

Bon. What witch had duld my sense That such a stuped Lethurgie should sease My intellectuall faculties they could not Perceive this drift! If she be virtuous, As no man but an heretick to truth Would have imagind, how shall I excuse My slanderous malice? my old fire renewes And in an instant with its scortching flames Burnes all suspicon up.

Enter Belisea.

Bel. Peace attend you.

Bon. What Cherubim has left the quire in heaven And warbles peacefull Anthems to the earth? It is her voyce, that to all eares speakes health, Only to mine. Come charitable mist Hide me, or freindly wherlewind rap me hence, Or her next accent, like the thunderers, will Strike me to dust.

Bel. Sir, I come not With resolution (though my innocence May justly arme [me]) to declare my truth; For I am going where your slander cannot (Had it bin greater) blast me. I desire This for my past love, that youle retaine Your wrong opinion to yourselfe, not labour To possesse others with it, to disgrace Our yet unspotted family.

Bon. If you want A partner in your greife, take me along That can teach you and all the world true Sorrow.

Bel. Twas not don well to brand my spotles name With Infamy; but to deride me is Inhumaine, when I only come to tell you Ile send my prayers on charities white wings To heaven for your prosperity.—You greive For what? for your deliverance from a strumpet?

Bon. No, but that my raving fancy should direct My trecherous tongue with that detested name To afflict thy unblemishd purity, Belisea. I do confes my error was an act Soe grosse and heathnish that its very sight Would have inforcd a Crocodile to weepe Drops as sincere as does the timorous heart When he ore heares the featherd arrow sing His funerall Dirge.

Bel. Can this be possible?

Bon. No sismatick, reduc'd to the true faith, Can more abhorre the Error he has left Than I do mine. I do beleive thee chast As the straight palme; as absolute from spots As the immaculate Ermine, who does choose, When he is hunted by the frozen Russe, To meete the toyle ere he defile the white Of his rich skin. What seas of teares will serve To expiatt the scandall I have throwne On holy Innocence?

Bel. Well, I forgive you; But ere I seale your pardon I in[j]oyne This as a pennance: you shall now declare The author of your wrong report.

Bon. Your mother.

Bel. How! my mother?

Bon. No creature else Could have inducd me to such a madnes.

Bel. Defend me gracious virtue! is this man Not desperate of remission, that without Sense of compu[n]ction dares imagine lies Soe horrible and godlesse? My disgrace Was wrong sufficient to tempt mercie, yet Cause twas my owne I pardond it; but this Inferd toth piety of my guiltless mother Stops all indulgence.

Bon. Will you not heare me out?

Bel. Your words will deafe me; I doe renounce my affection to you; when You can speake truth, protest you love agen. [Exit.

Bon. Contempt repaid with scorne; tis my desert; Poyson soone murders a love wounded heart.

[Exit.



(SCENE 2.)

Enter Belisea, Clariana and Thorowgood.

Bel. You may declare your will[97] here are no eares But those I will not banish, were your busines More secret.

Tho. Lady, I come to free My worthy freind and your owne servant, Bonvill, From an uniust suspition your conceite Retaines of him. Your mother did employ me In the unlucky message that pronouncd you Empty of honor.

Bel. Has your worthles freind Hird you to sweare this?

Tho. I'me none that live By selling oathes.

Bel. Ile scarce believ't; he shall not With all his cunning policie regaine My good opinion of him. Sir, you cannot Doe a more pleasing office then to leave me: I do not love to heare of him.

Tho. Your pleasure rules me. [Exit.

Cla. Belisea, you did ill Not to heare out the Gent[leman].

Bel. Prethe why? His owne confession does appeach him one In the conspiracy against my honor. He sayes my mother was the originall Of Bonviles slaunder; and how impious Twere for a child to thinke so, filiall duty Instructs my knowlidge.

Cla. Be not confident; Your piety may misleade you. Though your mother, Shees passion like to us; we had it from her. Ile say no more; the event will testifie Whoes in the fault.[98]

Enter Sucket and Crackby.

Suc. Be not abashd; a little impudence is requisite; Observe me, with what a garbe and gesture martiall I will beseige their fortresses.

Bel. Who sent these fooles to trouble us?—Gent[lemen], We have some conference will admit no audience Besides ourselves. We must desire you to withdraw, or give us Leave to do soe.

Suc. Men of warr are not soe easily put to a retreat; it suites not with their repute.

Cla. Heele fight with us, sister: weed best procure him bound toth peace.

Crac. Ladies, I must no more endure repulse; I come to be a suiter.

Bel. For what?

Crac. Why, that you would with Judgment overlooke This lovely countenance.

Cla. The hangman shall doe't sooner.

Crac. If you knew How many bewtious gentlewomen have sued To have my picture—

Cla. To hang at their beds head for a memento mori—

Crac. You would regard it with more curiosity. There was a merchants daughter the other day Runn mad at sight of itt.

Cla. It scared her from her witts: she thought the divell had haunted her.

Suc. Valour deserves regard, myne shall propugne Your bewty gainst all opposers.

Bel. Alasse! mine is so meane, None will contend with it, it needs no champions.

Crac. Contemne me not, lady; I am—

Cla. A most egregious asse.

Crac. Most nobly propagatted; my father was a man Well fu[rnish'd] with white and yellow mettall.

Cla. I lay my life a Tinker.

Crac. And in his parish of account.

Cla. A Scavenger.

Bel. Is it a badge of your profession To be uncivell?

Suc. Uncivell! Noe; what is in other men uncivill In us is resolution; therefore yeild: I am invincible, flesh cannot stand Before me.

Bel. It must be drunke then.

Cla. I am not ith humour now To laugh, or else Ide not dismisse him yet. Good Mr. Crackby, does your wisdome thinke That I can love you?

Crac. My worth deserves it.

Cla. Well said, impudence. Goe, get you home toth Cittie; goe solicitt Some neighbors daughter; match with Nan your Schoolefellow With whome you usd to walk to Pimblicoe[99] To eate plumbe cakes and creame,—one of your parish, Good what-doe-you-lack.

Crac. This is offensive to My reputation.

Cla. You shall heare more on't: When thou art married, if the kind charity Of other men permitt thee to geet thee children That call thy wife mother, bring them up To people shopps and cheat for 18d, The pretious youth that fathers them. Walke, walke, you and your Captaine Huff to London, And tell thy mother how thou has't sped i'th country, And let her moane thee.

Crac. Captaine, we must give place; these girles are firebrands, And we as straw before them.

Suc. They may stand In neede of valour. [Exeunt Suc. and Crac.

Enter Thurston.

Cla. Have you oreheard us? these are the lads will do't, When 20 such as you will be cast off.

Thu. Like a bob'd[100] Hawke.—Mrs, if I mistake not, Your mother does inquire for you.

Bel. I will attend her pleasure. [Exit.

Cla. Doe not goe, wench; we shall scarce be honest.

Thu. Love, is it time, after the services I have perform'd, to have some salary? Noe labourer works without his hier; I would Be satisfied when you determine we Shall end our hopes in marriage.

Cla. I have lookt for this month in my Calender And find that marriage is prohibited.

Thu. It is not Lent nor Advent;[101] if it were The Court is not so strickt but 'twill dispense With freinds, and graunt a licence.

Cla. Whole be bound With you that theres no hindrance but we may Be lawfully espoused?

Thu. Ime not so barren Of freinds but I shall find security For what will nere be question'd.

Cla. It may be soe; but one who calculated My birth did warne me to abstaine from marriage Til I was twenty.

Thu. You're no Atlanta; if you be, Ile play Hippomanes and over runn you.

Cla. You'd scarce catch me, Though you had Venus apples to seduce My covetous eyes. Henceforth Ide have you leave Your love to me.