MUS. With all my heart, sir; yea, and thank you, too.

CLIN. Then say no more, but leave the rest to me, For I have plotted how it shall be done. I must go follow yon fair gentleman, On whom I build my hopes. Musgrave, adieu.

MUS. Clinton, farewell; I'll wish thee good success.

[Exeunt.



ACT II., SCENE I.

Enter MORGAN, LACY, DUNSTAN, FORREST, HONOREA, MARIAN.

MOR. Thou holy man, to whom the higher powers Have given the gift of cures beyond conceit, Welcome thou art unto Earl Morgan's house: The house of sorrow yet, unless by thee Our joys may spring anew; which if they do, Reward and praise shall both attend on thee.

LACY. And we will ever reverence thy name, Making the chronicles to speak thy praise: So Honorea may but have her speech.

DUN. My lords, you know the hallow'd gift of tongues Comes from the selfsame power that gives us breath: He binds and looseth them at his dispose; And in his name will Dunstan undertake To work this cure upon fair Honorea. Hang there, my harp, my solitary muse, Companion of my contemplation. [He hangs his harp on the wall. And, lady, kneel with me upon the earth, That both our prayers may ascend to heaven.

[They kneel down. Then enters CLINTON, with BELPHEGOR, terming himself CASTILIANO, and AKERCOCK, as ROBIN GOODFELLOW.

CLIN. So shall you do the lady a good turn, And bind both him and me to you for ever. [Aside.]

BEL. I have determin'd what I mean to do. [Aside.]

CLIN. Here be the earls, and with them is the friar. [Aside.]

BEL. What, is he praying? [Aside.]

CLIN. So methinks he is; But I'll disturb him. [Aside.] By your leave, my lords, Here is a stranger from beyond the seas Will undertake to cure your lordship's daughter.

MOR. The holy abbot is about the cure.

BEL. Yea, but, my lord, he'll never finish it.

MOR. How canst thou tell? What countryman art thou?

BEL. I am by birth, my lord, a Spaniard born, And by descent came of a noble house; Though, for the love I bare[437] to secret arts, I never car'd to seek for vain estate, Yet by my skill I have increas'd my wealth. My name Castiliano, and my birth No baser than the best blood of Castile. Hearing your daughter's strange infirmity, Join'd with such matchless beauty and rare virtue, I cross'd the seas on purpose for her good.

DUN. Fond man, presuming on thy weaker skill, That think'st by art to overrule the heavens! Thou know'st not what it is thou undertak'st. No, no, my lord, your daughter must be cur'd By fasting, prayer, and religious works; Myself for her will sing a solemn mass, And give her three sips of the holy chalice; And turn my beads with aves and with creeds: And thus, my lord, your daughter must be help'd.

CAS. 'Zounds, what a prating keeps the bald-pate friar! My lord, my lord, here's church-work for an age? Tush! I will cure her in a minute's space, That she shall speak as plain as you or I.

[DUNSTAN' harp sounds on the wall.

FOR. Hark, hark, my lord! the holy abbot's harp Sounds by itself so hanging on the wall!

DUN. Unhallowed man, that scorn'st the sacred rede,[438] Hark how the testimony of my truth Sounds heavenly music with an angel's hand, To testify Dunstan's integrity, And prove thy active boast of no effect.

CAS. Tush, sir, that music was to welcome me! The harp hath got another master now; I warrant you, 'twill never tune you more.

DUN. Who should be master of my harp but I?

CAS. Try, then, what service it will do for you.

[He tries to play, but cannot.

DUN. Thou art some sorcerer or necromancer, Who by thy spells dost hold these holy strings.

CAS. Cannot your holiness unbind the bonds? Then, I perceive, my skill is most of force. You see, my lord, the abbot is but weak; I am the man must do your daughter good.

MOR. What wilt thou ask for to work thy cure?

CAS. That without which I will not do the cure: Herself to be my wife, for which intent I came from Spain. Then, if she shall be mine, Say so, or keep her else for ever dumb.

MOR. The Earl of Kent, mine honourable friend, Hath to my daughter been a suitor long, And much it would displease both her and him To be prevented of their wished love. Ask what thou wilt beside, and I will grant it.

CAS. Alas, my lord! what should the crazy earl Do with so young a virgin as your daughter? I dare stand to her choice 'twixt him and me.

LACY. And I will pawn mine earldom with my love, And lose them both, if I lose Honorea.

CAS. A match, my lords! We'll stand unto the choice.

MOR. I am contented, if the earl be pleased.

LACY. I were not worthy of her, did I doubt.

CAS. Then there it goes. Fetch me a bowl of wine: This is the match, my lord, before I work— If she refuse the earl, she must be mine.

MOR. It is.

[One brings him a cup of wine: he strains the juice of the herb into it.

CAS. Now shall your lordships see a Spaniard's skill, Who from the plains of new America[439] Can find out sacred simples of esteem To bind and unbind nature's strongest powers. This herb, which mortal men have seldom found, Can I with ease procure me, when I list, And by this juice shall Honorea speak. Here, lady, drink the freedom of thy heart, And may it teach thee long to call me love! [She drinks. Now, lovely Honorea, thou art free, Let thy celestial voice make choice of me.

HON. Base alien! mercenary fugitive! Presumptuous Spaniard! that with shameless pride Dar'st ask an English lady for thy wife, I scorn my slave should honour thee so much: And, for myself, I like myself the worse, That thou dar'st hope the gaining of my love. Go, get thee gone, the shame of my esteem, And seek some drudge that may be like thyself! But as for you, good Earl of Kent, Methinks your lordship, being of these years, Should be past dreaming of a second wife. Fie, fie, my lord! 'tis lust in doting age: I will not patronise so foul a sin. An old man dote on youth? 'tis monstrous. Go home, go home, and rest your weary head! 'Twere pity such a brow should learn to bud. And lastly unto you, my lord and father, Your love to me is too much overseen, That in your care and counsel should devise To tie your daughter's choice to two such grooms. You may elect for me, but I'll dispose, And fit myself far better than both those; And so I will conclude; you[r], as you please. [Exit HONOREA in a chafe.

AKER. Call you this making of a woman speak? I think they all wish she were dumb again.

CAS. How now, my lord? what, are you in a muse?

LACY. I would to God her tongue were tied again.

CAS. Ay, marry, sir, but that's another thing, The devil cannot tie a woman's tongue:[440] I would the friar could do that with his beads. But 'tis no matter: you, my lord, have promis'd, If she refuse the earl, she should be mine.

MOR. Win her, and wear her, man, with all my heart!

CAS. O, I'll haunt her till I make her stoop. Come, come, my lord, this was to try her voice; Let's in and court her; one of us shall speed.

AKER. Happy man[441] be his dole that misseth her, say I.

DUN. My weaker senses cannot apprehend The means this stranger us'd to make her speak: There is some secret mystery therein, Conceal'd from Dunstan, which the heavens reveal, That I may scourge this bold, blaspheming man, Who holds religious works of little worth!

[Exeunt; manent CLINTON and FORREST.

FOR. Now, Captain Clinton, what think you of me?

CLIN. Methinks as yet the jest holds pretty well. The one hath taught her to deny himself: The other woo'd so long, he cannot speed.

FOR. This news will please young Musgrave.

CLIN. Marry will it, And I will hasten to acquaint him with them: Come, let's away.

[Exeunt.

Enter PARSON SHORTHOSE and GRIM the Collier.

GRIM. No, Master Parson, grief hath made my heart and me a pair of balance, as heavy as lead. Every night I dream I am a town top, and that I am whipped up and down with the scourge-stick of love and the metal of affection; and when I wake,[442] I find myself stark naked, and as cold as a stone. Now judge how I am tumbled and tossed; poor Grim the collier hath wished himself burnt up amongst his coals.

SHO. O Grim! be wise, dream not of love, Thy sorrows cannot fancy move: If Jug love thee, love her again; If not, thy kindness then refrain.

GRIM. I am not skilled in your rhyming. Master Parson; but that which is bred in the flesh will never come out of the bone. I have seen as much as another man; my travel should teach me. There's never a day in the week but I carry coals from Croydon to London; and now, when I rise in the morning to harness my horses, and load my cart, methinks I have a tailor sewing stitches in my heart: when I am driving my cart, my heart that wanders one way, my eyes they leer another, my feet they lead me, I know not whither, but now and then into a slough over head and ears; so that poor Grim, that before was over shoes in love, is now over head and ears in dirt and mire.

SHO. Well, Grim, my counsel shall suffice To help thee; but in any wise Be rul'd by me, and thou shalt see, As thou lov'st her, she shall love thee.

GRIM. A lard![443] but do you think that will be so? I should laugh till I tickle to see that day, and forswear sleep all the next night after. O Master Parson, I am so haltered in affection, that I may tell you in secret, [since] here's nobody else hears me, I take no care how I fill my sacks. Every time I come to London, my coals are found faulty; I have been five times pilloried, my coals given to the poor, and my sacks burnt before my face. It were a shame to speak this, but truth will come to light. O Joan! thou hast thrown the coal-dust of thy love into my eyes, and stricken me quite blind.

SHO. Now, afore God, the collier chooseth well; For beauty Jug doth bear away the bell, And I love her: then, collier, thou must miss, For Parson Shorthose vows, Jug shall be his. [Aside.] But hear'st thou, Grim, I have that in my head, To plot that how thou shalt the maiden wed.

GRIM. But are you sure you have that in your head? O, for a hammer to knock that out! one blow at your pate would lay all open to me, and make me as wise as you.

SHO. Think'st thou I do so often look For nothing on my learned book, As that I cannot work the feat? I warrant I'll the miller cheat, And make Jug thine, in spite of him. Will this content thee, neighbour Grim?

GRIM. Content me! ay, and so highly, that if you do this feat for me, you hire me to you as one hireth an ox or an ass: to use, to ride, to spur, or anything; yours to demand, miserable Grim! Joan's handmaid! for so I have called myself ever since last May-day, when she gave me her hand to kiss.

SHO. Well, let's away; and in all haste About it, ere the day be pass'd; And ever after, if thou hast her, Acknowledge me to be thy master.

GRIM. I wool, sir: come, let's away, the best drink in Croydon's yours; I have it for you, even a dozen of jugs, to Jug's health.

[Exeunt both.

Enter EARL MORGAN, EARL LACY, MARIAN.

MOR. My Lord of Kent, the latter motion Doth bind me to you in a higher degree Than all those many favours gone before: And now the issue of my help relies Only on Mariana's gentleness, Who, if she will, in such a common good, Put to her helping-hand, the match is made.

LACY. You need not make a doubt of Marian, Whose love unto her lady were enough, Besides her cousin's and her own consent, To move her to a greater thing than this.

MAR. My lords, if aught there be in Marian, That may or pleasure you or profit her, Ye shall not need to doubt of my consent.

MOR. Gramercy, Marian; and indeed the thing Is in itself a matter of no moment, If it be weigh'd aright, and therefore this: Thou know'st the bargain 'twixt me and the doctor, Concerning marriage with my only daughter, Whom I determined that my Lord of Kent Should have espoused: but I see her mind Is only set upon thy cousin Musgrave, And in her marriage to use constraint Were bootless; therefore thus we have devised. Lord Lacy is content to lose his part, And to resign his title to young Musgrave; But now the doctor will not yield his right. Thus we determine to beguile his hopes: Thou shalt this night be brought unto his bed Instead of her, and he shall marry thee: Musgrave shall have my daughter, she her will; And so shall all things sort[444] to our content.

LACY. And this thou shalt be sure of, Marian, The doctor's wealth will keep thee royally: Besides, thou shalt be ever near thy friends, That will not see thee wrong'd by any man. Say then, wilt thou resolve to marry him?

MAR. My lords, you know I am but young: The doctor's fit for one of riper years: Yet, in regard of Honorea's good, My cousin's profit, and all your contents, I yield myself to be the doctor's wife.

MOR. 'Tis kindly spoken, gentle Marian.

Enter CASTILIANO.

But here the doctor comes.

LACY. Then I'll away, Lest he suspect aught by my being here. [Exit.

MOR. Do, and let me alone to close with him.

CAS. May he ne'er speak that makes a woman speak! She talks now sure for all the time that's pass'd: Her tongue is like a scarecrow in a tree, That clatters still with every puff of wind. I have so haunted her from place to place: About the hall, from thence into the parlour, Up to the chamber, down into the garden, And still she rails, and chafes, and scolds, As if it were the sessions-day in hell. Yet will I haunt her with an open mouth, And never leave her till I force her love me.

MOR. Now, master doctor; what, a match or no?

CAS. A match, quoth you? I think the devil himself Cannot match her; for, if he could, I should. [Aside.]

MOR. Well, be content: 'tis I must work the mean To make her yield, whether she will or no. My Lord of Kent is gone hence in a chafe, And now I purpose that she shall be yours, Yet to herself unknown; for she shall think That Musgrave is the man, but it shall be you: Seem you still discontented, and no more. Go, Mariana, call thy mistress hither. Now, when she comes, dissemble what you know, And go away, as if you car'd not for her; So will she the sooner be brought into it.

[Exit MARIAN.

CAS. My lord, I thank you for your honest care, And, as I may, will study to requite it.

Enter HONOREA and MARIAN.

But here your daughter comes. No, no, my lord, 'Tis not her[445] favour I regard, nor her; Your promise 'tis I challenge, which I'll have: It was my bargain, no man else should have her. Not that I love her, but I'll not be wrong'd By any one, my lord; and so I leave you. [Exit CASTILIANO.

MOR. He's passing cunning to deceive himself: But all the better for the after-sport.

HON. Sir, did you send for me?

MOR. Honorea, for thee; And this it is. Howe'er unworthily I have bestowed my love so long upon thee, That wilt so manifestly contradict me, Yet, that thou may'st perceive how I esteem thee, I make thyself the guardian of thy love, That thine own fancy may make choice for thee. I have persuaded with my Lord of Kent To leave to love thee: now the peevish doctor Swears that his int'rest he will ne'er resign; Therefore we must by policy deceive him. He shall suppose he lieth this night with thee, But Mariana shall supply thy room; And thou with Musgrave in another chamber Shall secretly be lodg'd. When this is done, 'Twill be too late to call that back again: So shalt thou have thy mind, and he a wife.

HON. But wilt thou, Mariana, yield to this?

MAR. For your sake, lady, I will undertake it.

HON. Gramercy, Marian, and my noble father; Now I acknowledge that indeed you love me.

MOR. Well, no more words, but be you both prepar'd: The night draweth on, and I have sent in secret For Musgrave, that he may be brought unseen, To hide suspicion from their jealous eyes.

HON. I warrant you. Come, Marian, let us go.

[Exeunt HONOREA and MARIAN.

MOR. And then my Lord of Kent shall be my son. Should I go wed my daughter to a boy? No, no; young girls must have their will restrain'd; For if the rule be theirs, all runs to nought. [Exit.

Enter CLACK the Miller, with JOAN.

CLACK. Be not Jug, as a man would say, finer than fivepence, or more proud than a peacock; that is, to seem to scorn to call in at Clack's mill as you pass over the bridge. There be as good wenches as you be glad to pay me toll.

JOAN. Like enough, Clack; I had as live[446] they as I, and a great deal rather too. You, that take toll of so many maids, shall never toll me after you. O God! what a dangerous thing it is but to peep once into love! I was never so haunted with my harvest-work as I am with love's passions.

CLACK. Ay, but Joan, bear old proverbs in your memory; soft and fair; now, sir, if you make too much haste to fall foul, ay, and that upon a foul one too, there fades the flower of all Croydon. Tell me but this: is not Clack the miller as good a name as Grim the collier?

JOAN. Alas! I know no difference in names To make a maid or choose or to refuse.

CLACK. You were best to say, no, nor in men neither. Well, I'll be sworn I have; but I have no reason to tell you so much, that care so little for me [aside]: yet hark. [CLACK speaketh in her ear.

Enter GRIM and PARSON SHORTHOSE.

GRIM. O Master Parson, there he stands like a scarecrow, to drive me away from her that sticks as close to my heart as my shirt to my back, or my hose to my heel. O Master Parson Shorthose, Grim is but a man as another man is: colliers have but lives, as other men have. All is gone if she go from me: Grim is nobody without her. My heart is in my mouth; my mouth is in my hand; my hand threatens vengeance against the miller, as it were a beadle with a whip in his hand, triumphing o'er a beggar's back!

SHO. Be silent, Grim; stand close, and see; So shall we know how all things be.

GRIM. In wisdom I am appeased; but in anger I broil, as it were a rasher upon the coals.

JOAN. I'll not despise the trades ye either have; Yet Grim the collier may, if he be wise, Live even as merry as the day is long; For, in my judgment, in his mean estate Consists as much content as in more wealth.

GRIM. O Master Parson, write down this sweet saying of her in Grim's commendations. She hath made my heart leap like a hobby-horse! O Joan, this speech of thine will I carry with me even to my grave.

SHO. Be silent, then.

CLACK. Well, then, I perceive you mean to lead your life in a coalpit, like one of the devil's drudges, and have your face look like the outward side of an old iron pot or a blacking-box.

GRIM. He calleth my trade into question, I cannot forbear him.

SHO. Nay, then you spoil all: neighbour Grim, I warrant you, she will answer him.

JOAN. What I intend, I am not bound to show To thee, nor any other but my mother, To whom in duty I submit myself: Yet this I tell thee, though my birth be mean, My honest virtuous life shall help to mend it; And if I marry any in all this life, He shall say boldly he hath an honest wife.

GRIM. O, that it were my fortune to light upon her, on condition my horses were dead, and my cart broken, and I bound to carry coals, as long as I live, from Croydon to London on my bare shoulders! Master Parson, the flesh is frail, he shall tempt her no longer. She is but weak, and he is the stronger. I'll upon him. Miller, thou art my neighbour, and therein charity holds my hands; but methinks you, having a water-gap of your own, you may do as other millers do, grind your grist at home, knock your cogs into your own mill; you shall not cog with her.

She doth descry thee; And I defy thee To a mortal fight; And so, miller, good night. And now, sweet Joan, Be it openly known Thou art my own.

CLACK. Well, Grim, since thou art so collier-like choleric—

GRIM. Miller, I will not be mealy-mouth'd.

CLACK. I'll give thee the fewer words now, because the next time we meet, I'll pay thee all in dry blows. Carry coals[447] at a collier's hands! if I do, let my mill be drowned up in water, and I hanged in the roof.

JOAN. And if thou lov'st me, Grim, forbear him now.

GRIM. If I love thee! dost thou doubt of that? nay, rip me up, and look into my heart, and thou shalt see thy own face pictured there as plainly as in the proudest looking-glass in all Croydon. If I love thee! then, tears, gush out, and show my love.

CLACK. What, Master Parson, are you there? You remember you promised to win Joan for my own wearing?

SHO. I warrant thee, Clack, but now begone; Leave me to work that here alone.

CLACK. Well, farewell, Master Shorthose; be true when you are trusted. [Exit CLACK.

SHO. She shall be neither his nor thine, For I intend to make her mine.

GRIM. If I love thee, Joan! Those very words are a purgation to me. You shall see desperation in my face, and death marching in my very countenance. If I love!

SHO. What, Grim, hath grief drown'd thee at last? Are all thy joys overcast? Is Joan in place, and thou so sad! Her presence, man, should make thee glad.

JOAN. Good Master Parson, 'twas no fault of mine; He takes occasion, where there none was given. I will not blab unto the world, my love I owe to him, and shall do whilst I live. [Aside]

GRIM. Well, Joan, without all ifs or ands, e-persese, a-persese, or tittle-tattles in the world, I do love thee; and so much that, in thy absence I cry, when I see thee, and rejoice with my very heart, when I cannot behold thee.

SHO. No doubt, no doubt, thou lov'st her well, But listen now to what I tell: Since ye are both so well agreed, I wish you make more haste and speed. To-morrow is Holy-rood day, When all a-nutting take their way; Within the wood a close doth stand, Encompass'd round on either hand With trees and bushes; there will I Despatch your marriage presently.

GRIM. O Master Parson, your devising pate hath blessed me for ever. Joan, we'll have that so: the shorter the work the sweeter.

JOAN. And if my mother give but her consent, My absence shall in no case hinder it.

GRIM. She, quotha? she is mine already; we'll to her presently. Master Parson, 'tis a match; we'll meet you. Now, miller, do I go beyond you? I have stripped him of the wench, as a cook would strip an eel out of her skin, or a pudding out of the case thereof. Now I talk of a pudding, O, 'tis my only food, I am an old dog at it. Come, Joan, let us away, I'll pudding you.

SHO. Well, if my fortune luckily ensue, As you shall cosen him, I'll cosen you.

[Exeunt.

Enter CASTILIANO at one door with MARIAN, EARL LACY at another door with HONOREA.

CAS. Come, lovely Honorea, bright as day. As came Alcmena from her sacred bed With Jupiter, shap'd like Amphitrion, So show my love.

HON. My love! whom have we here? Sweet Musgrave! but, alas, I am betrayed!

CAS. Thou art my love.

LACY. No, mine.

HON. Nor yours, nor yours; But Musgrave's love. O Musgrave! where art thou?

LACY. Be not displeas'd, my dear; give me thy hand.

HON. My hand, false earl! nor hand nor heart of mine! Couldst thou thus cunningly deceive my hopes? And could my father give consent thereto? Well, neither he nor thou shalt force my love.

CAS. 'Tis I, fair Honorea, am thy love: Forsake the worthless earl, give me thy hand.

MAR. Whose hand would you have, sir? this hand is mine, And mine is yours: then keep you to your own: Yet are you mine, sir, and I mean to keep you. What! do you think to shake me off so soon? No, gentle husband, now 'tis too-too late; You should have look'd, before you came to bed.

Enter ROBIN GOODFELLOW[448] with his master's gown.

ROB. Many good-morrows to my gentle master And my new mistress; God give you both joy! What say you to your gown, sir, this cold morning?

CAS. Robin, I am undone, and cast away!

ROB. How, master, cast away upon a wife?

CAS. Yea, Robin, cast away upon a wife.

ROB. Cast her away then, master, can you not?

MAR. No, sir, he cannot, nor he shall not do it.

ROB. Why, how know you? I am sure you are not she.

MAR. Yes, sir, I am your mistress, as it falls.

ROB. As it falls, quoth ye? marry, a foul fall is it.

MAR. Base rascal, dost thou say that I am foul?

ROB. No, it was foul play for him to fall upon you.

MAR. How know you that he fell? were you so nigh?

[She giveth ROBIN a box on the ear.

ROB. Mass, it should seem it was he that fell, if any, For you (methinks) are of a mounting nature: What, at my ears at first? a good beginning.

LACY. My dear delight, why dost thou stain thy cheeks, Those rosy beds, with this unseemly dew? Shake off those tears, that now untimely fall, And smile on me, that am thy summer's joy.

HON. Hapless am I to lose so sweet a prison, Thus to obtain a weary liberty. Happy had I been so to have remain'd, Of which estate I ne'er should have complain'd.

ROB. Whoop, whoo! more marriages! and all of a sort. Happy are they, I see, that live without them: if this be the beginning, what will be the ending?

Enter EARL MORGAN and DUNSTAN.

MOR. Look, Dunstan, where they be; displeas'd, no doubt, Try, if thou canst work reconciliation.

CAS. My lord, I challenge you of breach of promise, And claim your daughter here to be my wife.

LACY. Your claim is nought, sir; she is mine already.

HON. Your claim is nought, sir; I am none of yours.

MAR. Your claim is here, sir; Marian is yours. What, husband, newly married and inconstant! 'Greed we so well together all this night, And must we now fall out? for shame, for shame! A man of your years, and be so unstay'd! Come, come away, there may no other be; I will have you, therefore you shall have me.

ROB. This is the bravest country in the world, Where men get wives, whether they will or no: I trow ere long some wench will challenge me.

CAS. O, is not this a goodly consequence? I must have her, because she will have me!

DUN. Ladies and gentlemen, hear Dunstan speak. Marriage, no doubt, is ordain'd by providence; Is sacred, not to be by vain affect Turn'd to the idle humours of men's brains. Besides, for you, my lady Honorea, Your duty binds you to obey your father, Who better knows what fits you than yourself; And 'twere in you great folly to neglect The earl's great love, whereof you are unworthy, Should you but seem offended with the match. Therefore submit yourself to make amends, For 'tis your fault; so may you all be friends.

MOR. And, daughter, you must think what I have done Was for your good, to wed you to the earl, Who will maintain and love you royally: For what had Musgrave but his idle shape? A shadow to the substance you must build on.

ROB. She will build substance on him, I trow; Who keeps a shrew against her will, had better let her go. [Aside.]

MAR. Madam, conceal your grief, and seem content; For, as it is, you must be rul'd per force: Dissemble, till convenient time may serve To think on this despite and Musgrave's love. [Aside.]

LACY. Tell me, my dear, wilt thou at length be pleas'd?

HON. As good be pleas'd, my lord, as not be eas'd; Yet though my former love did move me much, Think not amiss, the same love may be yours.

CAS. What! is it a match? nay then, since you agree, I cannot mend myself, for aught I see; And therefore 'tis as good to be content. Come, lady, 'tis your lot to be my dame. Lordings, adieu; God send you all good speed! Some have their wives for pleasure, some for need.

LACY. Adieu, Castiliano: are we friends?

CAS. Yes, yes, my lord, there is no remedy.

ROB. No remedy, my masters, for a wife? A note for young beginners: mark it well.

[Exeunt.

Enter FORREST, CAPTAIN CLINTON, HARVEY.

FOR. Now, gallants, what imagine you of this? Our noses are all slit; for Mariana, The Spanish doctor hath her to his wife, And Musgrave's hopes are dead for Honorea, For she is married to the Earl of Kent. 'Twill be good sport to see them when they rise. If so they be not gotten up already.

CLIN. I say the devil go with them all for me. The Spanish doctor marry Marian! I think that slave was born to cross me still. Had it not been last day before the earl, Upon my conscience, I had crack'd his crown, When first he ask'd the lady for his wife; Now he hath got her too, whom I desir'd. Why, he'll away with her ere long to Spain, And keep her there to dispossess our hopes.

FOR. No, I can comfort you for that suppose:[449] For yesterday he hir'd a dwelling-house, And here he means to tarry all this year; So long at least, whate'er he doth hereafter.

CLIN. A sudden plotform[450] comes into my mind, And this it is. Miles Forrest, thou and I Are partly well acquainted with the doctor. Ralph Harvey shall along with us to him; Him we'll prefer for his apothecary? Now, sir, when Ralph and he are once acquainted, His wife may often come unto his house, Either to see his garden, or such like: For, doubt not, women will have means enough, If they be willing, as I hope she will. There may we meet her, and let each one plead: He that speeds best, why let him carry it.

FOR. I needs must laugh to think how all we three, In the contriving of this feat, agree: But, having got her, every man will strive How each may other of her love deprive.

CLIN. Tut, Forrest! love admits these friendly strifes; But say, how like you of my late device?

FOR. Surpassing well, but let's about it straight, Lest he before our coming be provided.

CLIN. Agreed.

[_Exeunt.

Enter_ MUSGRAVE _and_ MARIAN.

MUS. Tush, cousin! tell not me; but this device Was long ago concluded 'twixt you two, Which divers reasons move me to imagine: And therefore these are toys to blind my eyes, To make me think she only loved me, And yet is married to another man.

MAR. Why, cousin Musgrave, are your eyes so blind You cannot see the truth of that report? Did you not know my lord was always bent, Whatever came, to wed her to the earl? And have you not, besides, heard the device He us'd to marry her against her will? Betray'd, poor soul, unto Earl Lacy's bed, She thought she held young Musgrave in her arms! Her morning tears might testify her thoughts; Yet thou shalt see she loves thee more than him, And thou shalt taste the sweets of her delights. Meantime, my house shall be thy mansion And thy abode, for thither will she come: Use thou that opportunity, and try Whether she lov'd thee, or did but dissemble.

MUS. If she continue kind to me hereafter, I shall imagine well of her and you.

Enter CASTILIANO.

CAS. Now, dame, in talk! what gentleman is this?

MAR. My cousin Musgrave, husband, comes to see you.

CAS. Musgrave, now, on my faith, heartily welcome. Give me thy hand, my cousin and my friend, My partner in the loss of Honorea; We two must needs be friends: our fortune's like: Marry, yet I am richer by a shrew.

MAR. 'Tis better to be a shrew, sir, than a sheep;[451] You have no cause, I hope, yet to complain?

CAS. No, dame; for yet you know 'tis honeymoon. What! we have scarcely settled our acquaintance.

MUS. I doubt not, cousin, but ye shall agree, For she is mild enough, if she be pleas'd.

CAS. So is the devil, they say[452] [aside]: yea, cousin, yea, My dear and I, I doubt not, shall agree.

Enter ROBIN GOODFELLOW.

ROB. Sir, here be two or three gentlemen at the door Would gladly speak a word with your worship.

Enter CLINTON, FORREST, HARVEY.

[CAS.] They need no bidding, methinks: they can come alone!

CLIN. God save you, Signior Castiliano.

CAS. O captain, come sta?[453] welcome all, my friends!

FOR. Sir, we are come to bid God give you joy, And see your house.

MAR. Welcome, gentlemen: 'Tis kindly done to come to see us here.

ROB. This kindness makes me fear my master's head: Such hotspurs must have game, howe'er they get it.

CLIN. We have a suit to you, Castiliano.

CAS. What is it, sir? if it lies in me, 'tis done.

CLIN. Nay, but a trifle, sir, and that is: This same young man, by trade apothecary, Is willing to retain unto your cures.

CAS. Marry, with all my heart, and welcome too. What may I call your name, my honest friend?

HAR. Ralph Harvey, sir; your neighbour here hard by. The Golden Lion is my dwelling-place, Where what you please shall be with care perform'd.

CAS. Gramercies, Harvey! welcome, all my friends! Let's in, and handsel our new mansion-house With a carousing round of Spanish wine. Come, cousin Musgrave, you shall be my guest; My dame, I trow, will welcome you herself.

MAR. No, boy, Lord Lacy's wife shall welcome thee.

ROB. So now the game begins, here's some cheer toward; I must be skinker[454] then: let me alone; They all shall want, ere Robin shall have none.

[Exeunt omnes nisi CLINTON and HARVEY.

CLIN. Sirrah Ralph Harvey, now the entry is made, Thou only hast access without suspect.[455] Be not forgetful of thy agent here; Remember Clinton was the man that did it.

HAR. Why, captain, now you talk in jealousy. Do not misconstrue my true-meaning heart.

CLIN. Ralph, I believe thee, and rely on thee. Do not too long absent thee from the doctor: Go in, carouse, and taint his Spanish brain; I'll follow, and my Marian's health maintain.

HAR. Captain, you well advise me; I'll go in, And for myself my love-suits I'll begin.

[Exeunt.



ACT III., SCENE I.

Enter ROBIN GOODFELLOW with his head broken.

ROB. The devil himself take all such dames for me! 'Zounds, I had rather be in hell than here. Nay, let him be his own man, if he list, Robin means not to stay to be us'd thus. The very first day, in her angry spleen, Her nimble hand began to greet my ears With such unkind salutes as I ne'er felt; And since that time there hath not pass'd an hour, Wherein she hath not either rail'd upon me, Or laid her anger's load upon my limbs. Even now (for no occasion in the world, But as it pleas'd her ladyship to take it) She gat me up a staff, and breaks my head. But I'll no longer serve so curs'd a dame; I'll run as far first as my legs will bear me. What shall I do? to hell I dare not go, Until my master's twelve months be expir'd, And here to stay with Mistress Marian— Better to be so long in purgatory. Now, farewell, master! but, shrewd dame, fare-ill! I'll leave you, though the devil is with you still. [Exit ROBIN.

Enter MARIAN alone, chafing.

MAR. My heart still pants within; I am so chaf'd! The rascal slave, my man, that sneaking rogue, Had like to have undone us all for ever! My cousin Musgrave is with Honorea, Set in an arbour in the summer-garden; And he, forsooth, must needs go in for herbs, And told me further, that his master bad him: But I laid hold upon my younker's pate, And made the blood run down about his ears. I trow, he shall ask me leave ere he go. Now is my cousin master of his love, The lady at one time reveng'd and pleas'd. So speed they all that marry maids perforce!

Enter CASTILIANO.

But here my husband comes.

CAS. What, dame, alone?

MAR. Yes, sir, this once—for want of company.

CAS. Why, where's my lady and my cousin Musgrave?

MAR. You may go look them both for aught I know.

CAS. What, are you angry, dame?

MAR. Yea, so it seems.

CAS. What is the cause, I prythee?

MAR. Why would you know?

CAS. That I might ease it, if it lay in me.

MAR. O, but it belongs not to your trade.

CAS. You know not that.

MAR. I know you love to prate, and so I leave you. [Exit MARIAN.

CAS. Well, go thy way: oft have I raked hell To get a wife, yet never found her like. Why this it is to marry with a shrew. Yet if it be, as I presume it is, There's but one thing offends both her and me; And I am glad, if that be it offends her. 'Tis so, no doubt; I read it in her brow. Lord Lacy shall with all my heart enjoy Fair Honorea: Marian is mine; Who, though she be a shrew, yet is she honest. So is not Honorea, for even now, Walking within my garden all alone, She came with Musgrave, stealing closely by, And follows him, that seeks to fly from her. I spied this all unseen, and left them there. But sure my dame hath some conceit thereof, And therefore she is thus angry, honest soul! Well, I'll straight hence unto my Lord of Kent, And warn him watch his wife from these close meetings. Well, Marian, thou liv'st yet free from blame. Let ladies go; thou art the devil's dame. [Exit CASTILIANO.

Enter the DEVIL, like MUSGRAVE, with HONOREA.

MUS. No, lady; let thy modest, virtuous life Be always joined with thy comely shape, For lust eclipseth nature's ornament.

HON. Young heady boy, think'st thou thou shalt recall Thy long-made love, which thou so oft hast sworn, Making my maiden thoughts to doat on thee?

MUS. With patience hear me, and, if what I say Shall jump with reason,[456] then you'll pardon me. The time hath been when my soul's liberty Vow'd servitude unto that heavenly face, Whilst both had equal liberty of choice; But since the holy bond of marriage Hath left me single, you a wedded wife, Let me not be the third unlawfully To do Earl Lacy so foul injury. But now at last—

HON. I would that last Might be thy last, thou monster of all men!

MUS. Hear me with patience.

HON. Cease: I'll hear no more! 'Tis my affection, and not reason, speaks: Then, Musgrave, turn the hardness of thy heart, And now at least incline thy love to mine.

MUS. Nay, now I see thou wilt not be reclaim'd. Go and bestow this hot love on the earl; Let not these loose affects thus scandalise Your fair report. Go home, and learn to live As chaste as Lucrece, madam. So I leave you.

[She pulleth him back.

HON. O, stay a little while, and hear my tongue Speak my heart's words, which cannot choose but tell thee, I hate the earl, only because I love thee. [Exit MUSGRAVE. Musgrave, return! hear, Honorea speaks! Disdain hath left him wings to fly from me! Sweet love, lend me thy wings to overtake him, For I can stay him with kind dalliance! All this is but the blindness of my fancy. Recall thyself: let not thy honour bleed With the foul wounds of infamy and shame. My proper home shall call me home again, Where my dear lord bewails, as much as I, His too much love to her that loves not him. Let none hereafter fix her maiden love Too firm on any, lest she feel with me Musgrave's revolt and his inconstancy. [Exit.

Enter FORREST, with MARIAN.

FOR. Tut, I'll remember thee, and straight return: But here's the doctor.

MAR. Where? Forrest, farewell! I would not have him see me for a world.

FOR. Why? he is not here. Well, now I see you fear him.

MAR. Marry, beshrew thee for thy false alarm! I fear him? no, I neither fear nor love him.

FOR. But where's my lady? She is gone home before, And I must follow after. Marian, farewell.

MAR. I shall expect your coming.

FOR. Presently; And nearest thou, Marian? nay, it shall be so—

[He whispers in her ear.

MAR. O Lord, sir, you are wed, I warrant you: We'll laugh, be merry, and, it may be, kiss; But if you look for more, you aim amiss.

FOR. Go to, go to! we'll talk of this anon.

[Exit FORREST.

MAR. Well, go thy way, for the true-heartedst man That liveth, and as full of honesty, And yet as wanton as a pretty lamb. He'll come again, for he hath lov'd me long, And so have many more besides himself; But I was coy and proud, as maids are wont, Meaning to match beyond my mean estate: Yet I have favour'd youths and youthful sports, Although I durst not venture on the main; But now it will not be so soon espied. Maids cannot, but a wife a fault may hide.

Enter NAN.

What, Nan!

NAN. Anon, forsooth.

MAR. Come hither, maid. Here, take my keys, and fetch the galley-pot; Bring a fair napkin and some fruit-dishes. Despatch, and make all ready presently; Miles Forrest will come straight to drink with me.

NAN. I will, forsooth. [Exit NAN.

MAR. Why am I young, but to enjoy my years? Why am I fair, but that I should be lov'd? And why should I be lov'd, and not love others? Tut, she is a fool that her affection smothers: 'Twas not for love I was the doctor's wife, Nor did he love me, when he first was mine. Tush, tush, this wife is but an idle name! I purpose now to try another game. Art thou return'd so soon? O, 'tis well done.

Enter NAN with the banquet.

And hear'st thou, Nan? when Forrest shall return, If any happen to inquire for me, Whether't be Captain Clinton or Ralph Harvey, Call presently, and say, thy master's come; So I'll send Forrest o'er the garden pale.

NAN. I will, forsooth.

MAR. Meantime, stay thou and make our banquet ready. I'll to my closet, and be here again, Before Miles Forrest shall come visit me. [Exit MARIAN.

NAN. I wonder what my mistress is about? Somewhat she would not have my master know: Whate'er it be, 'tis nothing unto me; She's my good mistress, and I'll keep her counsel. I have oft seen her kiss behind his back, And laugh and toy, when he did little think it. O, what a winking eye the wanton hath To cosen him, even when he looks upon her! But what have I to do with what she doth? I'll taste her junkets since I am alone: That which is good for them cannot hurt me. Ay, marry, this is sweet! a cup of wine Will not be hurtful for digestion. [She drinks.]

Enter CASTILIANO.

CAS. I would I had been wiser once to-day; I went on purpose to my Lord of Kent To give him some good counsel for his wife, And he, poor heart, no sooner heard my news, But turns me up his whites, and falls flat down: There I was fain to rub and chafe his veins, And much ado we had to get him live. But for all that he is extremely sick, And I am come in all the haste I may For cordials to keep the earl alive. But how now? What, a banquet! What means this?

NAN. Alas! my master is come home himself. Mistress, mistress! my master is come home!

CAS. Peace, you young strumpet, or I'll stop your speech! [He stops her mouth. Come hither, maid: tell me, and tell me true, What means this banquet? what's your mistress doing? Why call'dst[457] thou out, when as thou saw'st me coming? Tell me, or else I'll hang thee by the heels, And whip thee naked. Come on, what's the matter?

NAN. Forsooth, I cannot tell.

CAS. Can you not tell? come on, I'll make you tell me.

NAN. O master! I will tell you.

CAS. Then say on.

NAN. Nothing, in truth, forsooth, but that she means To have a gentleman come drink with her.

CAS. What gentleman?

NAN. Forsooth, 'tis Master Forrest, as I think.

CAS. Forrest? nay then I know how the game goeth: Whoever loseth, I am sure to win By their great kindness, though't be but the horns.

Enter FORREST at one door, MARIAN at another.

But here comes he and she. Come hither, maid: Upon thy life, give not a word, a look, That she may know aught of my being here. Stand still, and do whate'er she bids thee do. Go, get thee gone; but if thou dost betray me, I'll cut thy throat: look to it, for I will do it. I'll stand here close to see the end of this, And see what rakes she keeps, when I'm abroad. [CASTILIANO conceals himself.]

MAR. 'Tis kindly done, Miles, to return so soon, And so I take it. Nan, is our banquet ready? Welcome, my love! I see you'll keep your word.

NAN. 'Twere better for you both he had not kept it. [Aside.]

FOR. Yea, Mariana, else I were unworthy. I did but bring my lady to the door, And there I left her full of melancholy, And discontented.

MAR. Why, 'twas kindly done. Come, come sit down, and let us laugh awhile: Maid, fill some wine.

NAN. Alas! my breech makes buttons, And so would theirs, knew they as much as I. He may change the sweetmeats, and put Purging comfits in the dishes.

MAR. Here's to my lady and my cousin Musgrave.

FOR. I pray, remember gentle master doctor And good Earl Lacy too, among the rest.

CAS. O sir, we find you kind—we thank you for it: The time may come when we may cry you quit. [Aside.]

NAN. Master, shall I steal you a cup of wine? [Aside

CAS. Away, you baggage! hold your peace, you wretch! [Aside.]

FOR. But I had rather walk into your orchard, And see your gallery so much commended; To view the workmanship he brought from Spain. Wherein's describ'd the banquet of the gods.

MAR. Ay, there's one piece exceeding lively done;[458] Where Mars and Venus lie within a net, Enclos'd by Vulcan, and he looking on.

CAS. Better and better yet: 'twill mend anon.

MAR. Another of Diana with her nymphs, Bathing their naked bodies in the streams; Where fond Acteon, for his eyes' offence, Is turn'd into a hart's shape, horns and all: And this the doctor hangs right o'er his bed.

FOR. Those horns may fall and light upon his head.

CAS. And if they do, worse luck. What remedy? [Aside.]

FOR. Nay, Marian, we'll not leave these sights unseen; And then we'll see your orchard and your fruit, For now there hang queen apples on the trees, And one of them is[459] worth a score of these.

MAR. Well, you shall see them, lest you lose your longing. [Exeunt MARIAN and FORREST.

CAS. Nay, if ye fall a longing for green fruit, Child-bearing is not far off, I am sure. Why, this is excellent: I feel the buds! My head groweth hard: my horns will shortly spring! Now, who may lead the cuckold's dance but I, That am become the headman of the parish? O, this it is to have an honest wife, Of whom so much I boasted once to-day. Come hither, minx! you know your mistress' mind, And you keep secret all her villanies: Tell me, you were best, where was this plot devised? How did these villains know I was abroad?

NAN. Indeed, forsooth, I know[460] not when it was. My mistress call'd me from my work of late, And bad me lay a napkin: so I did, And made this banquet ready; but in truth I knew not what she did intend to do.

CAS. No, no, you did not watch against I came, To give her warning to despatch her knaves! You cried not out when as you saw me come! All this is nothing; but I'll trounce you all.

NAN. In truth, good master!

Enter MARIAN, FORREST.

CAS. Peace, stay! they come. Whimper not; and you do, I'll use you worse. Behold that wicked strumpet with that knave! O, that I had a pistol for their sakes, That at one shot I might despatch them both! But I must stand close yet, and see the rest. [He conceals himself again.]

MAR. How lik'st thou, Miles, my orchard and my house?

FOR. Well; thou art seated to thy heart's content, A pleasant orchard and a house well-furnish'd: There nothing wants; but in the gallery The painter shows his art exceedingly.

MAR. Yet is there one thing goeth beyond all these: Contented life, that giveth the heart his ease, And that I want. [One knocketh at the door.

FOR. Sweet love, adieu. [Exit FORREST.

MAR. Farewell, sweetheart. Who is that at the door?

Enter CLINTON.

CLIN. A friend.

MAR. Come near: what, captain, is it you?

CLIN. Even I, fair Marian, watching carefully The blessed step of opportunity.

MAR. Good, good! how fortune gluts me with excess! Still they that have enough shall meet with more.

CLIN. But where's the doctor?

MAR. Ministering abroad Physic to some sick patients he retains.

CLIN. Let him abroad, I'll minister at home Such physic shall content my Marian.

CAS. O monstrous! now the world must see my shame. This head must bear whatever likes[461] my dame. [Aside.]

MAR. I have no malady requires a cure.

CLIN. Why, then, must I assume a sick man's part And all my sickness lieth at my heart? 'Tis the heart-burning that torments me so.

MAR. There is no cure for fire but to be quench'd.

CLIN. Thou hast prescrib'd a sovereign remedy.

CAS. O, who the devil made her a physician? [Aside.]

CLIN. Let's not obscure what love doth manifest; Nor let a stranger's bed make thee seem strange To him that ever lov'd and honour'd thee.

MAR. A captain made a captive by loose love And gadding fancy! fie, 'twere monstrous shame That Cupid's bow should blemish Mars's name: Take up thy arms, recall thy drooping thoughts, And lead thy troops into the spacious fields.

CAS. She counsels others well, if she would take it. [Aside.]

CLIN. Thou counsellest the blind to lead the blind. Can I lead them that cannot guide myself? Thou, Marian, must release my captive heart.

MAR. With all my heart I grant thee free release.

CLIN. Thou art obscure too much: but tell me, love, Shall I obtain my long-desired love?

MAR. Captain, there is yet somewhat in thy mind Thou wouldst reveal, but wantest utterance. Thou better knowest to front the braving foe, Than plead love-suits.

CLIN. I grant 'tis even so; Extremity of passions still are dumb, No tongue can tell love's chief perfections: Persuade thyself my love-sick thoughts are thine; Thou only may'st those drooping thoughts refine.

MAR. Since at my hands thou seek'st a remedy, I'll ease thy grief, and cure thy malady. No drug the doctor hath shall be too dear; His antidote shall fly to do thee good. Come in, and let thy eye make choice for thee, That thou may'st know how dear thou art to me. [Exeunt CLINTON, MARIAN.

CAS. Is this obedience? now the devil go with them! And yet I dare not; O, she's mankind grown![462] O miserable men that must live so, And damned strumpet,[463] author of this woe!

Enter CLINTON, MARIAN.

But peace! be still! they come. O shameless shame! Well may the world call thee the devil's dame.

MAR. Captain, thy skill hath pleased me so well, That I have vow'd my service to Bellona.

CAS. Her service to Bellona! turn'd stark ruffian! She'll be call'd Cavaliero Marian. [Aside.]

CLIN. And I will train thee up in feats of arms, And teach thee all the orders of the field; That whilst we, like to Mars and Venus, jest, The doctor's head may get a gallant crest.

CAS. I can no longer linger my disgrace, Nor hide my shame from their detested sight. How now, thou whore, dishonour to my bed! Disdain to womanhood, shame of thy sex! Insatiate monster! corrosive of my soul! What makes this captain revelling in my house? My house! nay, in my bed! You'll prove a soldier! Follow Bellona, turn a martialist! I'll try if thou hast learn'd to ward my blows.

MAR. Why, how now, man! is this your madding month? What, sir! will you forbid me in good sort To entertain my friends?

CAS. Your friends, you whore! They are no friends of mine, nor come they here. Clinton, avaunt, my house is for no such.

MAR. Alas, good sir! are you grown so suspicious, Thus on no proofs to nourish jealousy? I cannot kiss a man but you'll be angry. In spite of you, or whoso else saith nay, My friends are welcome, as they come this way: If you mislike it, mend it as you may. What, do you think to pin up Marian, As you were wont to do your Spanish girls? No, sir, I'll be half mistress of myself; The other half is yours, if you deserve it.

CLIN. What madness mov'd thee be displeas'd with me, That always us'd thee with so kind regard? Did I not at thy first arrival here Conduct thee to the Earl of London's house?

MAR. Did I not, being unsolicited, Bestow my first pure maiden love on thee?

CLIN. Did I not grace thee there in all the court, And bear thee out against the daring abbot?

MAR. Did I not forsake many young gallant courtiers, Enamoured with thy aged gravity, Who, now being weary of me, wouldst disgrace me?

CAS. If there be any conscience left on earth, How can I but believe these protestations?

CLIN. Have I not always been thy nearest friend?

MAR. Have I not always been thy dearest wife?

CLIN. How much will all the world in this condemn thee?

MAR. At first I little fear'd what now I find, And grieve too late.

CAS. Content thee, gentle dame. The nature of our countrymen is such, That, if we see another kiss our wives, We cannot brook it: but I will be pleas'd; For, will I, nill I,[464] so methinks I must. And, gentle captain, be not you offended; I was too hot at first, but now repent it. I prythee, gentle dame, forgive me this, And drown all jealousy in this sweet kiss.

CLIN. This shows your wisdom: on, I'll follow you.

MAR. [Aside.] Well, doctor, henceforth never reckon[465] it scorn At my sweet Clinton's hands to take the horn.

[Exeunt.



ACT IV., SCENE I.

Enter ROBIN GOODFELLOW,[466] in a suit of leather, close to his body; his face and hands coloured russet-colour, with a flail.

ROB. The doctor's self would scarce know Robin now. Curs'd Marian may go seek another man, For I intend to dwell no longer with her, Since that the bastinado drove me thence. These silken girls are all too fine for me: My master shall report of those in hell, Whilst I go range amongst the country-maids, To see, if homespun lasses milder be Than my curs'd dame and Lacy's wanton wife. Thus therefore will I live betwixt two shapes; When as I list, in this transform'd disguise, I'll fright the country-people as they pass; And sometimes turn me to some other form, And so delude them with fantastic shows. But woe betide the silly dairymaids, For I shall fleet their cream-bowls night by night. And slice the bacon-flitches as they hang. Well, here in Croydon will I first begin To frolic it among the country lobs. This day, they say, is call'd Holyrood-day, And all the youth are now a-nutting gone. Here are a crew of younkers in this wood, Well-sorted, for each lad hath got his lass. Marry, indeed, there is a tricksy[467] girl, That three or four would fain be doing with, But that a wily priest among the rest Intends to bear her sheer away from all. The miller, and my brother Grim the collier Appointed here to scuffle for her love. I am on Grim's side; for long time ago The devil call'd the collier like to like:[468]

Enter GRIM, CLACK, PARSON SHORTHOSE, JOAN, with a bag of nuts.

But here the miller and the collier come, With Parson Makebate and their tricksy girl.

GRIM. Parson, persuade me no more. I come, Jug, to your custody; Jug, hold the nut-bag.

CLACK. Nay, I will give you nuts to crack.

GRIM. Crack in thy throat and hauster[469] too.

SHO. Neighbours, I wish you both agree: Let me be judge, be rul'd by me.

GRIM. Master Parson, remember what Pueriles[470] saith, Ne accesseris ad concilio, &c. I tell you I found this written in the bottom of one of my empty sacks. Never persuade men that be inexecrable. I have vowed it, and I will perform it. The quarrel is great, and I have taken it upon my own shoulders.

CLACK. Ay, that thou shalt, ere I have done; for I will lay it on, i'faith.

GRIM. If you lay it in, I must bear it out, this is all. If you strike, I must stand to anything, although it be the biggest blow that you can lay upon me.

JOAN. Ye both have ofttimes sworn that ye love me; Let me overrule you in this angry mood. Neighbours and old acquaintance, and fall out!

ROB. Why, that is, because thou wilt not let them fall in.

GRIM. I say, my heart bleedeth when thou speaketh, and therefore do not provoke me. Yet, miller, as I am monstrous angry, so I have a wonderful great mind to be repeas'd. Let's think what harm cometh by this same fighting; if we should hurt one another, how can we help it? Again, Clack, do but here forswear Joan's company, and I'll be thine instead of her, to use in all your businesses from Croydon to London; yours, Gilbert Grim, the chief collier for the king's majesty's own mouth.

CLACK. O Grim, do I smell you? I'll make you forswear her before we two part; and therefore come on to this gear. Collier, I will lay on load, and when it is done, let who will take it off again.

JOAN. Yet once more hear me speak: leave off for shame, If not for love; and let not others laugh To see your follies; let me overrule you.

SHO. Ay, let them fight, I care not: I Meantime away with Joan will fly; And whilst they two are at it here, We two will sport ourselves elsewhere.

ROB. There's a stone priest! he loveth a wench, indeed: He careth not though both of them do bleed; But Robin Goodfellow will conjure you, And mar your match, and bang you soundly too. I like this country-girl's condition well; She's faithful, and a lover but to one: Robin stands here to right both Grim and her.

GRIM. Master Parson, look you to my love. Miller, here I stand With my heart and my hand In sweet Jug's right With thee to fight.

CLACK. Come, let us to it then.

[They fight: ROBIN beateth the miller with a flail, and felleth him.

ROB. Now, miller, miller dustipoll I'll clapper-claw your jobbernole.

SHO. Come, Jug, let's leave these senseless blocks, Giving each other blows and knocks.

JOAN. I love my Grim too well to leave him so.

SHO. You shall not choose: come, let's away.

[SHORTHOSE pulleth JUG after him: ROBIN beateth the priest with his flail.

ROB. Nay then, sir priest, I'll make you stay.

CLACK. Nay, this is nothing, Grim; we'll not part so. I thought to have borne it off with my back sword ward, And I receiv'd it upon my bare costard.[471] [They fight again.

ROB. What, miller, are you up again? Nay, then, my flail shall never lin,[472] Until I force one of us twain Betake him to his heels amain.

[ROBIN beats the miller again.

CLACK. Hold thy hands, Grim! thou hast murder'd me.

GRIM. Thou liest, it is in mine own offence I do it. Get thee gone then: I had rather have thy room than thy company.

CLACK. Marry, with all my heart. O, the collier playeth the devil with me.

ROB. No, it is the devil playeth the collier with thee. [Aside.]

SHO. My bones are sore; I prythee, Joan, Let's quickly from this place be gone. Nay, come away, I love thee so, Without thee I will never go.

ROB. What, priest, still at your lechery? [ROBIN beats the priest. I'll thrash you for your knavery. If any ask who beat thee so, Tell them 'twas Robin Goodfellow. [SHORTHOSE runneth away.

GRIM. O miller, art thou gone? I am glad of it. I smelt my own infirmity every stroke I struck at him. Now, Joan, I dare boldly swear thou art my own; for I have won thee in the plain field. Now Master Parson shall even strike it up; two or three words of his mouth will make her gammer Grim all the days of her life after.

ROB. Here is two well-favoured slaves! Grim and I may curse all good faces, And not hurt our own.

JOAN. What, my love, how dost thou?

GRIM. Even as a conqueror may do. Jug, for thy sake I have made the miller a poor cripple all the days of his life, good for nothing else but to be carried into the 'spital-house.

ROB. Ay, there is one lie, for thou didst never hurt him. [Aside.]

JOAN. I am glad thou 'scapedst, my love, and wast not hurt.

GRIM. Who? I hurt? Joan, thou knowest me not yet: thou mayest do better hereafter. I gave him five mortal wounds the first five strokes I made at him.

ROB. There are five lies clapt into one, for brevity's sake. [Aside.]

GRIM. And presently, upon the fifth blow, I made a dangerous thrust at him, and violently overthrew him, horse and foot, and there he lay.

ROB. Nay, there you lie. The collier is excellent To be companion to the devil himself. [Aside.]

GRIM. But where's Master Parson?

JOAN. He was well bang'd, and knew not who 'twas did it, And would have had me gone away with him. Here lieth his nut-bag, and the miller's too: They had no leisure to take them away.

GRIM. The better for us, Joan; there is good cracking work: it will increase household stuff. Come, let's after the parson; we will comfort him, and he shall couple us. I'll have Pounceby the painter score upon our painted cloth[473] at home all the whole story of our going a-nutting this Holyrood-day; and he shall paint me up triumphing over the miller.

[Exeunt GRIM and JOAN.

ROB. So let the collier now go boast at home How he hath beat the miller from his love. I like this modest country maid so well, That I believe I must report in hell Better of women than my master can. Well, till my time's expir'd, I'll keep this quarter, And night by night attend their merry meetings. [Exit ROBIN.

Enter DUNSTAN with EARL LACY sick.

DUN. Let not your sickness add more feebleness Unto your weaken'd age; but give me leave To cure thy vain suspicious malady. Thy eyes shall witness how thou art deceiv'd, Misprizing thy fair lady's chastity: For whilst we two stand closely here unseen, We shall espy them presently approach.

LACY. O, show me this, thou blessed man of God, And thou shalt then make young my withered age.

DUN. Mark the beginning; for here Musgrave cometh.

Enter MUSGRAVE.

MUS. O thrice unhappy and unfortunate, That, having fit occasion proffer'd thee Of conference with beauteous Honorea, Thou overslipp'd it, and o'erslipp'dst thyself. Never since wedlock tied her to the earl, Have I saluted her; although report Is blaz'd abroad of her inconstancy. This is her evening walk, and here will I Attend her coming forth, and greet her fairly.

LACY. See, Dunstan, how their youth doth blind our age! Thou dost deceive thyself and bringest me To see my proper shame and infamy.

Enter HONOREA.

But here she comes: my hope, my fear, my love.

DUN. Here comes the unstain'd honour of thy bed. Thy ears shall hear her virtuous, chaste replies, And make thy heart confess thou dost her wrong.

HON. Now modest love hath banish'd wanton thoughts, And alter'd me from that I was before, To that chaste life I ought to entertain. My heart is tied to that strict form of life, That I joy only to be Lacy's wife.

LACY. God fill thy mind with these chaste, virtuous thoughts!

MUS. O, now I see her, I am half asham'd Of so long absence, of neglect of speech. My dearest lady, patroness of beauty, Let thy poor servant make his true excuse!

HON. Musgrave, I easily take your excuse, Accusing my fond self for what is pass'd.

MUS. Long time we wanted opportunity; But now the forelock of well-wishing time Hath bless'd us both, that here without suspect We may renew the tenor of our loves.

LACY. O Dunstan, how she smiles to hear him speak!

HON. No, child of fortune and inconstancy, Thou shalt not train me, or induce my love To loose desires or dishonoured thoughts. 'Tis God's own work that struck a deep remorse Into my tainted heart for my pass'd folly.

MUS. O, thou confound'st me! Speak as thou wert won't, Like Love herself, my lovely Honorea.

HON. Why, how now, Musgrave! what esteem'st thou me, That thou provokest me, that first denied me? I will not yield you reasons why I may not, More than your own. You told me why you would not.

MUS. By heavens, by thee, my saint, my happiness! No torture shall control my heart in this, To teach my tongue deny to call thee love.

HON. Well, in regard that in my maiden-days I lov'd thee well, now let me counsel thee. Reclaim these idle humours; know thyself; Remember me, and think upon my lord; And let these thoughts bring forth those chaste effects, Which may declare thy change unto the world: And this assure thee—whilst I breathe this air, Earl Lacy's honour I will ne'er impair. [Exit HONOREA.

DUN. Now your eyes see that which your heart believ'd not.

LACY. 'Tis a miracle beyond the reach Of my capacity! I could weep for joy, Would but my tears express how much I love her! Men may surmise amiss in jealousy, Of those that live in untouch'd honesty.

MUS. Is she departed? and do I conceive This height of grief, and do no violence Unto myself? Said she I denied her? Far be it from my heart to think that thought. All ye that, as I do, have felt this smart, Ye know how burthensome 'tis at my heart. Hereafter never will I prosecute This former motion, my unlawful suit; But, since she is Earl Lacy's virtuous wife, I'll live a private, pensive, single life. [Exit MUSGRAVE.

DUN. God doth dispose all at his blessed will; And he hath chang'd their minds from bad to good, That we, which see't, may learn to mend ourselves.

LACY. I'll reconcile myself to Musgrave's love: I will recant my false suspicion, And humbly make my true submission.

[Exeunt.

Enter MARIAN, chafing.

MAR. Say'st thou thou'lt make the house too hot for me? I'll soon abroad, and cool me in the air. I'll teach him never scorn to drink his health Whom I do love. He thinks to overcrow me With words and blows; but he is in the wrong, Begin he when he dares! O, he's too hot And angry to live long with Marian. But I'll not long be subject to his rage: Here 'tis shall rid him of his hateful life, And bless me with the style of widowhood. 'Twas Harvey's work to temper it so well: The strongest poison that he could devise.

Enter CLINTON.

I have been too long subject to the slave; But now I'll cast off that detested yoke.

CLIN. Musgrave, I see, is reconcil'd to th'earl; For now I met him walking with Lord Lacy. Sure, this is Marian's plot, and there she stands. What, love, alone!

MAR. Ay, captain, much disturb'd About the frantic doctor's jealousy; Who, though he seem'd content when thou wast there, He after fell reviling thee and me; Robb'd me of all my jewels; locks his plate In his own trunk; and let's me only live To bear the idle title of his wife.

CLIN. Fair Marian, by a soldier's loyal faith, If my employment any way may help To set thee free from this captivity, Use me in any sort: command my sword; I'll do't, as soon as thou shalt speak the word.

MAR. Now, by my true love, which I wish to thee, I conjure thee with resolution To slay that monster! Do not fail to do it! For, if thou dost, I would I had not spoke it.

CLIN. Now try me; and, when next we hap to meet, The doctor lies stone dead at Clinton's feet.

MAR. Nay, now I see thou lov'st me.

CLIN. Say no more. If thou dost loathe him, he shall die therefore.

MAR. To-morrow morning will he early rise To see Earl Lacy: meet him in the cloister, And make that place revenge his sanctuary. This night will I break open all the trunks, Rifle his caskets, rob him of his gold; And all the doctor's treasure shall be thine. If thou miscarry, yet this drink shall do it.

Enter CASTILIANO.

CAS. My wife's impatience hath left me alone, And made my servant run, I know not whither.

MAR. Peace! here is our eyesore. Clinton, leave us now.

CLIN. Nay, now occasion smiles, and I will do it. [CLINTON draweth his sword.

MAR. Put up thy sword; be it thy morning's work: Farewell to-night; but fail me not to-morrow.

CLIN. Farewell, my love. No rest shall close these eyes, Until the morning peep; and then he dies. [Exit CLINTON.

CAS. [Soliloq.] Now I remember, I have quite outrun My time prefix'd to dwell upon the earth: Yet Akercock is absent: where is he? O, I am glad I am so well near rid Of my earth's plague and my lascivious dame.

MAR. Hath he discover'd my intendment, That he presages his ensuing death? I must break off these fearful meditations.

CAS. How shall I give my verdict up to Pluto Of all these accidents?

MAR. Why, how now, man?

CAS. What, my dear dame! my reconciled spouse! Upon my soul, my love to thee is more Now at this present than 'twas e'er before.

MAR. He hath descried me sure, he sootheth me so! [Aside.]

CAS. I love thee now, because I now must leave thee. This was the day of my nativity, And therefore, sweet wife, let us revel it.

MAR. Nay, I have little cause to joy at all.

CAS. Thou Grossest still my mirth with discontents! If ever heretofore I have displeas'd thee, Sweet dame, I crave thy pardon now for all. This is my birthday, girl, I must rejoice: Ask what thou wilt, and I will give it thee.

MAR. Should I but ask to lead a quiet life, You hardly would grant this unto your wife; Much less a thing that were of more import.

CAS. Ask anything, and try if I'll deny thee.

MAR. O my poor Musgrave, how hast thou been wrong'd, And my fair lady!

CAS. Use no preambles, But tell me plainly.

MAR. Nay, remember them, And join their slander to that love you owe me, And then old Lacy's jealousy.

CAS. What then?

MAR. Nay, now I see you will not understand me.

CAS. Thou art too dark; speak plainly, and 'tis done.

MAR. Then doom the earl, and bless poor Musgrave's eyes With Honorea's love; for this in thy hands lies.

CAS. How should I doom him?

MAR. How else, but to death?

CAS. As if his life or death lay in my hands?

MAR. He is thy patient, is he not?

CAS. He is.

MAR. Then in thy hands lie both his life and death. Sweet love, let Marian beg it at thy hand: Why should the grey-beard live to cross us all? Nay, now I see thee frown: thou wilt not do it.

CAS. Fie, fie, dame! you are too suspicious. Here is my hand, that thou may'st know I love thee; I'll poison him this night before I sleep.

MAR. Thou dost but flatter me!

CAS. Tush! I have sworn it.

MAR. And wilt thou do it?

CAS. He is sure to die.

MAR. I'll kiss thy lips for speaking that kind word: But do it, and I'll hang about thy neck, And curl thy hair, and sleep betwixt thy arms, And teach thee pleasures which thou never knew'st.

CAS. Promise no more, and trouble me no more: The longer I stay here, he lives the longer. I must go to him now, and now I'll do it. Go home and hasten supper 'gainst I come: We will carouse to his departing soul.

MAR. I will, dear husband; but remember me: [Aside.] When thou hast poison'd him, I'll poison thee. [Exit MARIAN.

CAS. O wonderful, how women can dissemble! Now she can kiss me, hang about my neck, And soothe me with smooth smiles and lewd entreaties. Well, I have promis'd her to kill the earl; And yet, I hope ye will not think I'll do it.[474] Yet I will sound the depth of their device, And see the issue of their bloody drift. I'll give the earl, unknown to any man, A sleepy potion, which shall make him seem As if he were stark dead, for certain hours: But in my absence no man shall report That for my dame's sake I did any hurt.

[Exit.



ACT V., SCENE I.

Enter GRIM, with JOAN.

GRIM. Nay, but, Joan, have a care! bear a brain[475] for all at once. 'Tis not one hour's pleasure that I suspect more than your mother's good, countenance. If she be asleep, we may be bold under correction; if she be awake, I may go my ways, and nobody ask me, Grim, whither goest thou? Nay, I tell you, I am so well beloved in our town, that not the worst dog in the street will hurt my little finger.

JOAN. Why speak you this? You need not fear my mother, For she was fast asleep four hours ago.

GRIM. Is she, sure? Did you hear her snort in her dead sleep? Why then, Joan, I have an hour's mirth for thee.

JOAN. And I a mess of cream for thee.

GRIM. Why, there is one for another then: fetch it, Joan; we will eat and kiss, and be as merry as your cricket. [Exit JOAN for the cream.] Art thou gone for it? Well, go thy ways for the kindest lass that ever poor collier met withal? I mean for to make short work with her, and marry her presently. I'll single her out, i'faith, till I make her bear double, and give the world to understand we will have a young Grim between us.

Enter JOAN with the cream.

JOAN. Look here, my love, 'tis sweeten'd for thy mouth.

GRIM. You have put none of your love-powder in it, to make me enamourable of you, have you, Joan? I have a simple pate, to expect you! [One knocketh at the door.] Joan, hark, my brains beat, my head works, and my mind giveth me: some lovers of yours come sneaking hither now; I like it not, 'tis suspectious.

[One knocketh again.

JOAN. You need not fear it; for there is none alive Shall bear the least part of my heart from thee.

GRIM. Say'st thou so? hold there still, and whoe'er he be, open door to him.

She openeth the door. Enter SHORTHOSE, and ROBIN after him.

JOAN. What, Master Parson, are you come so late? You are welcome; here's none but Grim and I.

SHO. Joan, I'll no more a-nutting go, I was so beaten to and fro; And yet who it was, I do not know.

GRIM. What, Master Parson, are you come so late to say eveningsong to your parishioners? I have heard of your knavery. I give you a fair warning; touch her no lower than her girdle, and no higher than her chin: I keep her lips and her hips for my own use. I do; and so welcome.

ROBIN. This two hours have I dogg'd the parson round about all Croydon, doubting some such thing. [Aside.]

SHO. No, Grim, I here forswear to touch Thy Joan, or any other such: Love hath been so cudgell'd out of me, I'll go no more to wood with thee.

ROB. 'Twas Robin beat this holy mind into him. I think more cudgelling would make him more honest. [Aside.]

GRIM. You speak like an honest man and a good parson, and that is more. Here's Joan's benevolation for us, a mess of cream and so forth. Here is your place, Master Parson. Stand on the t'other side of the table, Joan. Eat hard to-night, that thou may marry us the better to-morrow.

ROB. What, is my brother Grim so good a fellow. [They fall to the cream. I love a mess of cream as well as they; I think it were best I stepp'd in and made one. [Aside.] Ho, ho, ho,[476] my masters! No good fellowship! Is Robin Goodfellow a bugbear grown, [ROBIN falleth to eat. That he is not worthy to be bid sit down?

GRIM. O Lord, save us! sure, he is some country-devil; he hath got a russet coat upon his face.

[GRIM and SHORTHOSE retire to the back of the stage.]

SHO. Now, benedicite! who is this? I take him for some fiend, i-wis;[477] O, for some holy-water here Of this same place this spirit to clear!

ROB. Nay, fear not, Grim, come fall unto your cream: Tut, I am thy friend; why dost not come and eat?

GRIM. I, sir? truly, master devil, I am well here, I thank you.

ROB. I'll have thee come, I say. Why, tremblest thou?

GRIM. No, sir, not I; 'tis a palsy I have still. Truly, sir, I have no great acquaintance with you.

ROB. Thou shalt have better, man, ere I depart.

GRIM. I will not, and if I can choose.

ROB. Nay, come away, and bring your love with you.

GRIM. Joan! you were best go to him, Joan.

ROB. What, shall I fetch thee, man? The cream is sweet.

GRIM. No, sir, I am coming: much good do't you. I had need of a long spoon, now I go to eat with the devil.[478]

ROB. The parson's penance shall be thus to fast. Come, tell me, Grim, dost thou not know me, man?

GRIM. No, truly, sir; I am a poor man fetcheth my living out of the fire; your worship may be a gentleman devil, for aught I know.

ROB. Some men call me Robin Goodfellow.

GRIM. O Lord, sir! Master Robert Goodfellow, you are very welcome, sir.

ROB. This half year have I liv'd about this town, Helping poor servants to despatch their work, To brew and bake, and other husbandry. Tut, fear not, maid; if Grim be merry, I will make up the match between ye.

GRIM. There will be a match in the devil's name!

ROB. Well, now the night is almost spent, Since your affections all are bent To marriage and to constant love, Grim, Robin doth thy choice approve; And there's the priest shall marry you: Go to it, and make no more ado: Sirrah, sir priest, go get you gone, And join both her and him anon; But ne'er hereafter let me take you With wanton love-tricks, lest I make you Example to all stone-priests ever, To deal with other men's loves never.

SHO. Valete vos, and God bless me, And rid me from his company! Come, Grim, I'll join you hand in hand, In sacred wedlock's holy band. I will no more a-nutting go, That journey caused all this woe.

GRIM. Come, let's to hand in hand quickly. Master Robert, you were ever one of the honestest merry devils that ever I saw.

JOAN. Sweet Grim, and if thou lovest me, let's away.

GRIM. Nay, now, Joan, I spy a hole in your coat: if you cannot endure the devil, you'll never love the collier. Why, we two are sworn brothers. You shall see me talk with him even as familiarly as if I should parbreak[479] my mind and my whole stomach upon thee.

JOAN. I prythee, do not, Grim.

GRIM. Who? not I? O Lord, Master Robert Goodfellow, I have a poor cottage at home, whither Joan and I will jog us merrily. We will make you no stranger, if you come thither. You shall be used as devilishly as you would wish, i'faith. There is never a time my cart cometh from London, but the collier bringeth a goose in his sack, and that, with the giblets thereof, is at your service.

ROB. This is more kindness, Grim, than I expected.

GRIM. Nay, sir, if you come home, you shall find it true, I warrant you. All my whole family shall be at your devilship's pleasure, except my poor Joan here, and she is my own proper nightgear.

ROB. Gramercies, but away in haste; The night is almost spent and pass'd.

GRIM. God be with you, sir; I'll make as much haste about it as may be; for, and that were once done, I would begin a new piece of work with you, Joan.

[Exeunt all but ROBIN.

ROB. Now joy betide this merry morn, And keep Grim's forehead from the horn: For Robin bids his last adieu To Grim and all the rest of you. [Exit ROBIN.

Enter CLINTON alone.

CLIN. Bright Lucifer, go couch thee in the clouds, And let this morning prove as dark as night! That I unseen may bring to happy end The doctor's murder, which I do intend. 'Tis early yet: he is not so soon stirring. But stir he ne'er so soon, so soon he dies. I'll walk along before the palace gate; Then shall I know how near it is to-day, He shall have no means to escape away.

[Exit CLINTON.

Enter CASTILIANO.

CAS. My trunk's broke open, and my jewels gone! My gold and treasure stol'n: my house despoil'd Of all my furniture, and nothing left? No, not my wife, for she is stol'n away: But she hath pepper'd me, I feel it work— My teeth are loosen'd, and my belly swell'd; My entrails burn with such distemper'd heat, That well I know my dame hath poison'd me: When she spoke fairest, then she did this act. When I have spoken all I can imagine, I cannot utter half that she intends; She makes as little poisoning of a man, As to carouse; I feel that this is true.

Enter CLINTON.

Nay, now I know too much of womankind. 'Zounds, here's the captain: what should he make here With his sword drawn? there's yet more villany.

CLIN. The morning is far spent; but yet he comes not. I wonder Marian sends him not abroad. Well, doctor, linger time, and linger life; For long thou shalt not breathe upon the earth.

CAS. No, no, I will not live amongst ye long: Is it for me thou wait'st, thou bloody wretch? Her poison hath prevented thee in murther.

Enter EARL MORGAN, ST DUNSTAN with HONOREA fainting, and MARIAN.

Now here be they suppose Earl Lacy dead. See how this lady grieveth for that she wisheth.

DUN. My Lord of London, by his sudden death, And all the signs before his late departure, 'Tis very probable that he is poison'd.

MAR. Do you but doubt it? credit me, my lord, I heard him say that drink should be his last: I heard my husband speak it, and he did it.

CAS. There is my old friend, she always speaks for me. O shameless creature, was't not thy device?

MOR. Let not extremity of grief o'erwhelm thee, My dearest Honorea; for his death shall be Surely reveng'd with all severity Upon the doctor, and that suddenly.

CLIN. What fortune's this, that all these come this way To hinder me, and save thy life to-day?

HON. My gracious lord, this doleful accident Hath robb'd me of my joy: and, royal earl, Though in thy life thou didst suspect my love, My grief and tears suspicions shall remove.

MAR. Madam, to you and to your father's love I owe as much and more than my own life. Had I ten husbands should agree to do it, My gracious lord, you presently should know it.

CAS. Ay, there's a girl! think you I did not well, To live with such a wife, to come from hell.

MAR. Look, look, my lord, there stands the murderer!

CAS. How am I round beset on every side! First, that same captain here stands to kill me; My dame she hath already poisoned me; Earl Morgan he doth threaten present death; The Countess Honorea, in revenge Of Lacy, is extremely incens'd 'gainst me. All threaten—none shall do it; for my date Is now expired, and I must back to hell. And now, my servant, wheresoe'er thou be, Come quickly, Akercock, and follow me. Lordings, adieu, and my curs'd wife, farewell, If me ye seek, come follow me to hell.

[The ground opens, and they both fall[480] down into it.

MOR. The earth that opened now is clos'd again.

DUN. It is God's judgment for his grievous sins.

CLIN. Was there a quagmire, that he sank so soon?

HON. O miracle! now may we justly say, Heavens have reveng'd my husband's death this day.

MOR. Alas, poor Marian! we have wrong'd thee much To cause thee match thyself to any such.

MAR. Nay, let him go, and sink into the ground; For such as he are better lost than found. Now, Honorea, we are freed from blame, And both enrich'd with happy widow's name[481].

Enter EARL LACY, with FORREST and MUSGRAVE.

LACY. O, lead me quickly to that mourning train, Which weep for me, who am reviv'd again.

HON. Marian, I shed some tears of perfect grief. [She falleth into a swoon.

MOR. Do not my eyes deceive me? liveth my son?

LACY. My lord and father, both alive and well, Recover'd of my weakness. Where's my wife?

MAR. Here is my lady, your beloved wife, Half dead to hear of your untimely end.

LACY. Look on me, Honorea; see thy lord: I am not dead, but live to love thee still.

DUN. 'Tis God disposeth all things, as he will: He raiseth those the wicked wish to fall.

CLIN. 'Zounds, I still watch on this enclosed ground; For if he rise again, I'll murder him.

HON. My lord, my tongue's not able to report Those joys my heart conceives to see thee live.

DUN. Give God the glory: he recovered thee, And wrought this judgment on that cursed man, That set debate and strife among ye all.

MOR. My lord, our eyes have seen a miracle, Which after ages ever shall admire. The Spanish doctor, standing here before us, Is sunk into the bowels of the earth, Ending his vile life by a viler death.

LACY. But, gentle Marian, I bewail thy loss, That wert maid, wife, and widow, all so soon.

MAR. 'Tis your recovery that joys me more, Than grief can touch me for the doctor's death. He never lov'd me whilst he liv'd with me, Therefore the less I mourn his tragedy.

MOR. Henceforth we'll strictlier look to strangers' lives, How they shall marry any English wives. Now all men shall record this fatal day; Lacy revived, the doctor sunk in clay.

[The trumpets sound, exeunt omnes nisi DUNSTAN.

DUN. Now is Earl Lacy's house fill'd full of joy, He and his lady wholly reconcil'd, Their jars all ended: those, that were like men Transformed, turn'd unto their shapes again. And, gentlemen, before we make an end, A little longer yet your patience lend, That in your friendly censures you may see What the infernal synod do decree; And after judge, if we deserve to name This play of ours, The devil and his dame. [Exit.

It thunders and lightneth. Enter PLUTO, MINOS, AEACUS, RHADAMANTHUS, with Fury bringing in MALBECCO'S Ghost.

PLU. Minos, is this the day he should return, And bring us tidings of his twelvemonth spent!

Enter BELPHEGOR, like a devil, with horns on his head, and AKERCOCK.

MIN. It is, great king, and here Belphegor comes.

PLU. His visage is more ghastly than 'twas wont. What ornaments are those upon his head?

BEL. Hell, I salute thee! now I feel myself Rid of a thousand torments. O vile earth, Worse for us devils than hell itself for men! Dread Pluto, hear thy subject's just complaint [BELPHEGOR kneeleth to PLUTO. Proceeding from the anguish of my soul. O, never send me more into the earth! For there dwells dread and horror more than here.

PLU. Stand forth, Belphegor, and report the truth Of all things have betide thee in the world.

BEL. When first, great king, I came into the earth, I chose a wife both young and beautiful, The only daughter to a noble earl; But when the night came that I should her bed, I found another laid there in her stead: And in the morning when I found the change, Though I denied her, I was forc'd to take her. With her I liv'd in such a mild estate, Us'd her still kindly, lov'd her tenderly; Which she requited with such light regard, So loose demeanour, and dishonest life, That she was each man's whore, that was my wife. No hours but gallants flock'd unto my house, Such as she fancied for her loathsome lust, With whom, before my face, she did not spare To play the strumpet. Yea, and more than this, She made my house a stew for all resorts, Herself a bawd to others' filthiness: Which, if I once began but to reprove, O, then, her tongue was worse than all the rest! No ears with patience would endure to hear her, Nor would she ever cease, till I submit[ted]: And then she'd speak me fair, but wish me dead. A hundred drifts she laid to cut me off, Still drawing me to dangers of my life. And now, my twelvemonth being near expir'd, She poison'd me; and least that means should fail, She entic'd a captain to've murdered me. In brief, whatever tongue can tell of ill, All that may well be spoken of my dame.

AKER. Poor Akercock was fain to fly her sight, For never an hour but she laid on me; Her tongue and fist walked all so nimbly.

PLU. Doth then, Belphegor, this report of thine Against all women hold in general?

BEL. Not so, great prince: for, as 'mongst other creatures, Under that sex are mingled good and bad. There are some women virtuous, chaste, and true; And to all those the devil will give their due. But, O, my dame, born for a scourge[482] to man! For no mortality [I] would endure that, Which she a thousand times hath offered me.