A COLLECTION OF OLD ENGLISH PLAYS, VOL. II

In Four Volumes

Edited by

A. H. BULLEN

1882-89. 

CONTENTS:

PrefaceDick of DevonshireThe Lady MotherThe Tragedy of Sir John Van Olden BarnaveltCaptain UnderwitAppendix I. Appendix II. Footnotes. 

PREFACE. 

The plays in this volume are printed for the first time. All areanonymous; but it is absolutely certain that _Sir John Van OldenBarnavelt_ is a masterpiece by Fletcher and Massinger; that _CaptainUnderwit_ is a comedy of Shirley's; and that the _Lady Mother_ (a pieceof no particular merit) is by Glapthorne. I am not at all sure that I amright in ascribing _Dick of Devonshire_ to Heywood. But, whoever mayhave been the author, I am confident that this well-written play will bewelcomed by all. In _Appendix I_ I give an account of the folio volume(Eg. MS. 1, 994) from which the two last pieces are taken. 

To Mr. ROBERT BOYLE, of St. Petersburg, I offer my sincere thanks forthe very interesting note (_Appendix II_) which he sent me after readingthe proof-sheets of _Barnavelt_. Elsewhere I have expressed my gratitudeto Mr. F. G. FLEAY for his valuable help. 

The preparation of this volume has been a work of great labour, foreverything has been transcribed by my own hand; but the tedious delay inpublication has been due in great part to circumstances beyond mycontrol. 

_January_ 27, 1883. 

INTRODUCTION TO DICK OF DEVONSHIRE. 

The play of _Dick of Devonshire_, now first printed (from Eg. MS. , 1994[1]), is distinctly a well-written piece, the work of a practisedhand. There is nothing amateurish in the workmanship; the reader is notdoomed to soar into extravagances at one moment, and sink intoflatnesses at another. Ample opportunities were offered for displays ofboisterous riot, but the playwright's even-balanced mind was not to bedisturbed. Everywhere there are traces of studious care; and we may besure that a style at once so equable and strong was not attained withouta long apprenticeship. Nor will the reader fail to note the lesson ofcharitableness and Christian forbearance constantly, yet unobtrusively, inculcated. 

The hero of the play, Richard Pike, published, under the title of _Threeto One_, a pamphlet (reprinted in vol. I. Of Mr. Arber's valuable_English Garner_) describing his exploits. There is no date to thepamphlet; but it was no doubt issued very shortly after Pike's return, which took place on April 20, 1626. At the outset the writer apologisesfor the rudeness of his style, "I know not, " he says, "what the court ofa king means, nor what the fine phrases of silken courtiers are. A goodship I know, and a poor cabin; and the language of a cannon: andtherefore as my breeding has been rough, scorning delicacy; and mypresent being consisteth altogether upon the soldier (blunt, plain andunpolished), so must my writings be, proceeding from fingers fitter forthe pike than the pen. " In those days a soldier was never at a loss toexpress himself, and honest Dick Pike was no exception to the rule. Hegoes straight to the point, and relates his adventures very vividly inthe homeliest language. Returning from an expedition against Algiers"somewhat more acquainted with the world, but little amended in estate, "he could not long rest inactive; and soon, "the drum beating up for anew expedition, " set out to try his fortunes again. The design wasagainst Cadiz; the fleet, under the command of the Earl of Essex, numbered some 110 sail. There is no need to continue the story, for Ihave nothing to add to the facts set forth in the pamphlet and the play. If _Britannia's Pastorals_ had been written a few years later, we may besure that William Browne would have paid a fitting compliment to hisfellow-townsman's bravery. But Pike's famous deeds were not forgotten byhis countymen; for in a broadside of the late seventeenth century, bearing the title of _A Panegyric Poem; or, Tavestock's Encomium_, [2] heis thus enthusiastically praised:--

 "Search whether can be found again the like For noble prowess for our Tav'stock Pike, In whose renowned never-dying name Live England's honour and the Spaniard's shame. "

There is a curious notice of our hero in a private letter, dated May 19, 1626, of Dr. Meddus to the Rev. Joseph Mead:[3]--"Yesterday being HolyThursday, one Pyke, a common soldier, left behind the fleet at Cadiz, delivered a challenge to the Duke of Buckingham from the Marquis of ----, brother-in-law to the Conde d'Olivares, in defence of the honour of hissister; affirming, moreover, that he had wronged Olivares, the King ofSpain, and the King of England, and therefore he would fight with him inany part of France. This Pike, a Devonshire man, being presentedprisoner to the Duke of Medina, he would needs have him fight at rapieror dagger with a Spaniard, supposing he would not stand him two thrusts:but Pyke, by a dexterous sleight, presently disarmed the Spaniard of hisrapier without hurting him, and presented it to the Duke, " &c. 

As to the authorship of the play, though I should be loth to speak withpositiveness, I feel bound to put forward a claim for Thomas Heywood. Through all Heywood's writings there runs a vein of generous kindliness:everywhere we see a gentle, benign countenance, radiant with love andsympathy. On laying down one of his plays, the reader is inclined toapply to him Tacitus' judgment of Agricola, "bonum virum facilecrederes, magnum libenter. " Now, when we open _Dick of Devonshire_, thenaturalness and simplicity of the first scene at once suggest Heywood'shand. In the second scene, the spirited eulogy on Drake--

 "That glory of his country and Spayne's terror, That wonder of the land and the seas minyon, _Drake_, of eternall memory--"

and the fine lines descriptive of the Armada are just such as we mightexpect from the author of the closing scenes of the second part of _Ifyou know not me, you know nobody_. Heywood was fond of stirringadventures: he is quite at home on the sea, and delights in nothing morethan in describing a sea-fight; witness his _Fortunes by Land and Sea_, and the two parts of the _Fair Maid of the West_. But the underplotbears even clearer traces of Heywood's manner. Manuel is one of thosecharacters he loved to draw--a perfect Christian gentleman, incapable ofbaseness in word or deed. Few situations could be found more touchingthan the scene (iii. 3), where Manuel defends with passionateearnestness the honour of his absent brother, Henrico, and tries tocomfort his heart-broken father. Heywood dealt in extremes: hischaracters are, as a rule, either faultless gentlemen or abandonedscoundrels. Hence we need not be surprised that Henrico exceeds othervillains in ruffianism as much as his brother, the gentle Manuel, surpasses ordinary heroes in virtue. The characters of Henrico'scontracted bride, Eleonora, and Catalina, the good wife of a vicioushusband, are drawn tenderly and skilfully. Heywood's eyes were oftenerdim with tears than radiant with laughter; yet, with all his sympathyfor the afflicted and the fallen, he never took a distorted view ofsociety, but preserved untainted to the end a perennial spring ofcheerfulness. 

I now leave the reader to the enjoyment of this old play, which, whetherit be Heywood's or not, certainly deserves the attention of all faithfulstudents of our inexhaustible dramatic literature. 

NOTE. --I gratefully acknowledge the assistance that I have received fromF. G. Fleay, Esq. , in preparing this volume for the press. To ensure asmuch accuracy as possible, Mr. Fleay has read the proof-sheetsthroughout. [4] By the same gentleman's kindness I am able to correct thefollowing misprints in the first volume:--

p. 37, l. 23, for "Yet can give, " read, "Yet can I give. "

p. 71, l. 18, del. Comma after "live. "

p. 103, l. 9, del. "we. "

p. 119, 7 from bottom, for "she doth preferd doth see, " read "she thuspreferd, " &c. 

p. 142, 9 from bottom, for "vouchsafed, " read "vouchsafe. "

p. 154, l. 19, for "There they are, " read "I, here they are. "

p. 190, l. 24, for "woman" read "women. "

p. 194, l. 12, for "unwist, " read "unjust. "

p. 228, last line, for "Equire, " read "Squire. "

p, 258, l. 29, for "1639, " read "1612. "

p. 274, l. 16, for "whore, " read "whore's;" and in the next line, for"sunnes, " read "sinnes. "

p. 276, l. 4, after "Do not my Dons know, " add "me. "

p. 281, 4 from bottom, for "wo, " read "two. "

p. 311, l. 12, for "sol-Re-fa-mi, " read "sol-Re-me-fa-mi. " In l. 19, for"Ra. " read "Re. "

p. 317, l. 21, for "goon, " read "good. "

p. 331, l. I, for "Med, " read "King. "

THE PLAY OF DICKE OF DEVONSHIRE. 

_A Tragi-Comedy_. 

Hector adest secumque Deos in praelia ducit. 

Drammatis Personae. 

_The Duke of Macada_, |_The Duke of Girona_, |_The Duke of Medina_, | Four Grandies. _The Marquesse d'Alquevezzes_, |_Don Pedro Gusman_, An ancient Lord. _Manuell_, | His Sons. _Henrico_, |_Don Fernando_, Governor of Cadiz Towne. _Teniente_, A Justicier. _Bustamente_, Captaine of Cadiz Castle. _Dicke Pike_, The Devonshire Soldier. _Don John_, A Colonel. _Buzzano_, Servant to Pedro Guzman. _Eleonora_, Daughter to Fernando. _Catelina_, Wife to Don John. _A Gentlewoman_. _An English Captaine_. _Mr. Jewell_. _Mr. Hill_. _Secretary_. _Mr. Woodrow_. _A Jaylor_. _Two Fryers_. _A Guard_. _English Soldiers_. _Spanish Soldiers_. 

The Play of Dick of Devonshire. 

_Actus Primus_. 

(SCENE 1. )

 _Enter Don Pedro Gusman, Henrico and Manuell, his sons; Don Fernando and Eleanora, his daughter, and Teniente_. 

_Pedr_. Gentlemen, y'have much honourd me to takeSuch entertainement, but y'are welcome all. 'Twas my desire to have your companyAt parting: heaven knowes when we shall meete againe. 

_Ten_. You are for _France_ then too?

_Man_. I wayte on my father. 

_Pedr_. _Henrico_. 

_Ferd_. _Eleonora_. 

_Ten_. But how chance, _Manuell_, your younger brotherIs at the Goale before you? What, no LadyTo please your eye?

_Man_. I am notYet weary of my freedome. May _Henrico_Meete Joy in his Election: yet I know notOne I would sooner chuse to call a sisterThan _Eleonora_. 

_Pedr_. At my returne from France all things shall beeConsummate; in meane time let your owne hearts, Knitt with the strongest tye of love, be merryIn mutuall embraces, and let your prayersFill our departing sayles. Our stay will notBee long, and the necessity of my affairesUnwillingly doth take me from you. 

_Hen_. Though I could wish your stay, my duty bidds meExpect the enjoying of my happinesTill your returne from _France_. --Your blessing. 

_Eleo_. How ever heaven dispose of _Eleonora_, Pray write me in your thoughts your humblest daughter, That shall make it a part of her devotionsTo pray for you. 

_Fer_. Well, sir, since your designePulls you away, may your good Angell guard you. 

_Ten_. The like wish I, _Don Pedro_. 

_Fer_. _Manuell_, I hopeYou will not long breath out of _Spanish_ ayre. Farewell!

_Pedr_. My thanks to all. --Stay!

 [_Peeces dischargd_. 

_Fer_. The Captaine of the Castle come to interpretThat language to us? What newes?

 _Enter Bustamente_. 

_Bust_. Such as will make all _Spaine_ dance in Canary. The _Brasile_ fleete--

_Pedr_. Arriv'd?

_Bust_. Is putting into harbour, and aloudCalls for a Midwife: she is great with goldAnd longs to be delivered. 

_Pedr_. No he _Spanyard_Is not a true reioycer at the newes:Be't a good omen to our Journey. 

_Ten_. So we wish all. 

_Pedr_. May we at our returne meet no worse newesThen now at parting. My noble _Don Fernando_And _Teniente_, once more farewell, (my daughter, I hope)

_Eleonora, Henrico_, --Nay, your good newes deserves a farewell. 

_Bust_. A soldier's farewell, a fast hand and heart;Good fate to both. [_Ex. Pedr. And Man_. 

_Hen_. Come, _Elinor_, let them discourse their JoyesFor the safe fleete: in thee all my delightsEmbarke themselves. 

_Bust_. Tush, lett 'em come; our shippes have brought with themThe newes of warre. 

_Per_. What is that, Gentlemen?

_Ten_. I am speaking of a fleete of Enemyes. 

_Per_. From whence?

_Ten_. From _England_. 

_Fer_. A castle in the ayre. 

_Ten_. Doe you not believe it?

_Fer_. I heard such a report, But had no faith in't: a mere Potgun![5]

_Bust_. Nay, sir, 'Tis certaine there hath bene great preparation, If our Intelligence be true to us;And a mighty Navy threatens the sea. 

_Fer_. What's that to us?How long hath it bene a voyce they were at sea!I have ventured to discharge the soldiersWhich to keepe here in pay upon the rumourOf a great fleete a comming, would both pesterThe Towne and be unnecessary chargeTo the King our Master. 

_Ten_. But how if they intend us?

_Fer_. 'Tis not probable:The time of yeare is past, sir, now; more thenThe middle of October. Had they meant usWe should have heard their message in loud CannonBefore this time. 

_Bust_. I am of that opinion. 

_Ten_. But _Don Fernando_ and _Bustamente_, call to mindThe time hath bene, when we supposed tooThe season past, they have saluted usWith more then friendly Bulletts; tore the ribbsOf our Towne up, made every house too hottFor the Inhabitants; had a spoyle of all, Spight of our hearts. 

_Fer_. One Swallow makes not Summer: because onceOur City was their prize, is't of necessityIt must be so againe?

_Bust_. Or were the NavyGreater, as fame gives out it is the fayrestThat ever danced upon these Seas, why yetShould we suspect for this Citty?

_Fer_. Because we dreame soe. 

_Ten_. If you did dreame it may be as neare truth:I wish the contrary, but know them daring Enemyes. 

_Fer_. The world, we doe acknowledge, cannot boastMore resolution then the _English_ heartsSeasond for action. 

_Ten_. _Francisco Bustamente_, how is the Castle? what strength?

_Bust_. A fort impregnable, wanting neyther soldiers nor munition. 

_Ten_. Well, looke to't. 

_Fer_. How ereThat wilbe necessary; the fort lyes inThe mouth of danger, and it will becomeYou to discharge that duty, _Bustamente_. 

_Bust_. With my best care. 

_Ten_. I wish all well, and that you had not yetDischarg'd your Companyes, _Don Fernando_. 

_Fer_. Come, come; putt of your Jelousy, Drinke downe the remembrance. We forgetOur fleetes arrivall; send your feares away;Nothing but wine and mirth should crowne this day. 

 [_Exeunt_. 

SCENE 2. 

 _Enter two Devonshire Merchants, as being in Sherryes_[6]

1. Heare you the newes?

2. Yes, that an English fleeteIs making up to Cales. [7]

1. Our _Sherryes_ merchants, Though few of us be heere, shall soundly payTo the furnishing of this Navy. 

2. Nay, I assure youOur shipps wilbe fast bound by _Spanish_ charmesNot to get hence in hast. 

1. The Divell allreadyIs furling up the sayles; would all the sackesWhich we have bought for _England_ were in _Devonshire_Turnd to small Beere, so we were but in _Tavistocke_To see it drawne out; were it nere so thinI'de drink a health to all the Dons in _Sherryes_And cry a pox upon 'em. 

2. That word heardBy any lowsy _Spanish_ Picardo[8]Were worth our two neckes. Ile not curse my DiegoesBut wish with all my heart that a faire windMay with great Bellyes blesse our _English_ saylesBoth out and in; and that the whole fleete mayBe at home delivered of no worse a conquestThen the last noble voyage made to this Citty, Though all the wines and merchandize I have hereWere ith' Seas bottome. 

1. Troth, so would I mine. 

2. I nere could tell yet from what roote this hugeLarge spreading Tree of hate from _Spayne_ to us, From us agayne to _Spayne_, took the first growth. 

1. No? then lie tell you: let us season our sorrowWith this discourse. 

2. With all my heart I long for't. 

1. You shall not loose your longing: then, sir, knowThe hate a _Spanyard_ beares an _Englishman_Nor naturall is, nor ancient; but as sparkes, Flying from a flint by beating, beget flames, Matter being neere to feed and nurse the fire, So from a tinder at the first kindled[9]Grew this heartburning twixt these two great Nations. 

2. As how, pray?

1. Heare me: any _Englishman_That can but read our Chronicles can tellThat many of our Kings and noblest PrincesHave fetcht their best and royallest wives from _Spayne_, The very last of all binding both kingdomesWithin one golden ring of love and peaceBy the marriage of Queene _Mary_ with that little man(But mighty monarch) _Phillip_, son and heireTo _Charles_ the Emperour. 

2. You say right. 

1. ReligionHaving but one face then both here and there, Both Nations seemd as one: Concord, CommerceAnd sweete Community were Chaynes of PearleAbout the neckes of eyther. But when _England_Threw of the Yoake of _Rome, Spayne_ flew from her;_Spayne_ was no more a sister nor a neighbour, But a sworne Enemy. All this did but bringDry stickes to kindle fire: now see it burne. 

2. And warme my knowledge and experience by't. 

1. Spaines anger never blew hott coales indeedTill in Queene _Elizabeths_ Raigne when (may I call him so)That glory of his Country and _Spaynes_ terror, That wonder of the land and the Seas minyon, _Drake_, of eternall memory, harrowed th'_Indyes_. 

2. The King of _Spaynes_ west _Indyes_?

1. Yes, when his Hands_Nombre de Dios, Cartagena, Hispaniola_, With _Cuba_ and the rest of those faire Sisters, The mermaydes of those Seas, whose golden stringsGive him his sweetest musicke, when they by _Drake_And his brave Ginges[10] were ravishd; when these red applesWere gather'd and brought hither to be payrd--Then the _Castilian_ Lyon began to roare. 

2. Had he not cause, being vexd soe?

1. When our shippsCarrying such firedrakes in them that the huge_Spanish_ Galleasses, Galleons, Hulkes and Carrackes[11]Being great with gold, in labour with some fright, Were all delivered of fine redcheekt ChildrenAt _Plymouth, Portsmouth_ and other _English_ havensAnd onely by men midwives: had not _Spayne_ reasonTo cry out, oh Diables _Ingleses_!

2. It had not spoke such _Spanish_ else. 

1. When we did sett our feete even on their MynesAnd brought their golden fagotts thence, their IngottsAnd silver wedges; when each ship of oursWas able to spread sayles of silke; the tacklingsOf twisted gold; when every marrynerAt his arrivall here had his deepe pocketsCrammd full of Pistoletts; when the poorest ship-boyMight on the _Thames_ make duckes and drakes with piecesOf eight fetchd out of _Spayne_: These were the BellowesWhich blew the _Spanish_ bonfires of revenge;These were the times in which they calld our NationBorachos, [12] Lutherans and Furias del Inferno. 

2. Would we might now give them the selfe same causeTo call us soe. 

1. The very name of _Drake_Was a Bugbear to fright Children; Nurses still'dTheir little _Spanish_ Nynnyes when they cryde"Hush! the _Drake_ comes. "

2. All this must needs begetTheir mortall hate to us. 

1. It did; yet thenWe lovd them beyond measure. 

2. Why?

1. Why, did not_Spaine_ fetch gold from the _West Indies_ for usTo spend here merrily? She planted vines, We eate the Grapes; she playd the _Spanish_ Pavine[13]Under our windowes, we in our bedds lay laughingTo heare such Mynstrelsy. 

2. How then turnd the windes?Why did this beauteous face of love in usPut on so blacke a Visour of hate to them?

1. Oh, sir, doe but looke backe to Eighty Eight, That _Spanish_ glasse shall tell you, shew each wrinckle. _England_ that yeare was but a bit pickd outTo be layd on their Kinges Trencher. Who were their Cookes?Marry, sir, his Grandees and great Dons of _Spaine_, A Navy was provided, a royall fleete, Infinite for the bravery of Admiralls, Viceadmirall [sic], Generalls, Colonells and Commanders, Soldiers, and all the warlike furnitureCost or experience or mans witt could musterFor such a mayne designe. 

2. Stay; Eighty Eight, --Thirty eight yeares agoe: much about thenCame I into the world. --Well, sir, this fleete?

1. Which made the Sea fish wonder what new kingdomeWas building over theirs, beate downe the BillowesBefore them to gett thither. 'Twas such a MonsterIn body, such a wonder in the eyes, And such a[14] thunder in the eares of ChristendomeThat the Popes Holynes would needes be GodfatherTo this most mighty big limbd Child, and call itTh'Invincible Armado. 

2. Thats to sayA Fleete of Shipps not to be overcomeBy any power of man. 

1. These were the Whales, These were the huge Levyathans of the SeaWhich roaring came with wide and dreadfull JawesTo swallow up our Kingdom, Shipps & Nation. The fame of this Armado flew with TerrourRiding on Envyes wing; the preparationWas wayted on with wonder, and the approachShewd the grim face of horrour: yet gainst all theseOur Country and our Courages were armd. 

2. _St. George_ for _England_!

1. And _St. George_ we cryde, Albeit, we heard, the _Spanish_ InquisitionWas aboord every ship with torture, torments, Whipps strung with wyre, and knives to cutt our throates. But from the armed winds an hoast brake forthWhich tare their shipps and sav'd ours. --Thus I have readTwo storyes to you; one, why _Spayne_ hates us, T'other why we love not them. 

2. Oh, sir, I thank you. 

 [_Exeunt_. 

SCENE 3. 

 _Ent. Teniente, Don John, Henrico_. 

_Ten_. I ever feard some ill fate pointed atThis Citty. 

_Jo_. Makes the fleete this way?

_Hen_. _Buzzano_!

_Ten_. I did dreame every night of't, and the RavensWith their unlucky throates never leave croakingSome danger to us all. 

_Hen_. Where's _Buzzano_? Villaine!

_Jo_. Be not discomforted. 

_Ten_. Don _Fernando_, too, Hath cut our strength off, taken away our swordsShould save our throates. I did preiudicateToo rashly of the _English_; now we mayYield up the Towne. --Sirra, get you up to th'highest _Enter Buzzano_. Turret, that lookes three leagues into the Sea, And tell us what you can discover there. 

_Buz_. Why, I can tell you ere I goe. 

_Hen_. What?

_Buz_. Why there are fishes and shipps too in the sea; they were madefor that purpose. 

_Ten_. The fellow doates? climbe quickly, sirra, and tell usWhither any bend to this place: there's a fleeteAbroad; skud, rascall. 

_Hen_. Villayne, away; and cast your eyes into the Sea. 

_Buz_. Ile be hangd first; some wiser then some: mine Eyes into the Sea?I see no reason for't. 

_Ten_. Why stayest thou?--this slave is without sence. Get up and see, and report the truth. 

_Buz_. Thats another matter: I will orelooke you all presently. [_Exit_. 

_Jo_. What were I best to doe? I doe not like these Navyes. 

_Hen_. 'Tis past question, If they were kenn'd this way, that they intendTo make another meale of this Citty. 

_Ten_. The first was but a Breakfast: they have shrewd stomakes. Oh for a lusty storme to bury allTheir hopes in the waves now! one good swelling GustWould breake their ribbs in pieces. 

_Jo_. No witches abroad?

_Buz_. I see, I see, I see!

 _Enter Buzzano above_. 

_All_. What?

_Buz_. Nay, I cannot tell what yet:Something it is; I thinke it be a Towne. 

_Hen_. Some Iland in the Sea!

_Buz_. It swims on the water. 

_Jo_. 'Tis the fleete: come they this way?

_Buz_. Yes, th'are ships; I know 'em by their foule linen; now I seethem plainely; they come, they come, they come!

_Hen_. How far off?

_Ten_. Speake, sirra. 

_Buz_. If you would peace I might heare what they say; the wind servesto bring every word they speake: they make towards, yes, towards thisCitty. A great fleete! stay, stay, look to your selves, Don: they spittfire allready, and have hung up a thousand flaggs of defyance. They areat the fort, the castle, at the castle: would I were pelted to deathwith Oranges and Lymons. 

_Ten_. Here comes _Don Fernando_. What newes?

 _Enter Fernando with Eleonora_. 

_Fer_. Assured danger, gentlemen, for all our menAlready are in a palsye and doe flyeThey know not whither. They are _English_:The Citty's allmost desperate. 

_Ten_. _Don John_, come with meAnd helpe to encourage the remayning soldiers. 

_Fer_. New supply shall quickly cheare you hearts. --_Henrico_!

_Hen_. Sir?

_Fer_. In this confusion, when a thousand fearesPresent themselves & danger with full faceLookes on the generall Towne, let me locke upThis Treasure in your armes; &, for you haveAt least an equall interest with meeIn _Eleonora_, in your fathers houseShe may hope more security, being of strength;For this storme cannot last. But in your loveShe hath a stronger guard. 

_Hen_. This act of confidenceBinds me for ever to _Fernando_: come, Halfe of my soule, for we two must not beeIn life devided. Though the Citty lyeAt mercy of the Enemy, yet from_Don Pedro Gusman's_ house not all mankindShall take thee from me. 

 _Enter Buzzano and Spanyards flying_. 

_Buz_. They come, they come, they come!

_Fer_. Committing this my Jewell to your trustI must unto my charge: my blessing!

_Ele_. Oh doe not leave me, sir; for without youWhat safety can I have? you are my father:Pray, stay you with me. 

_Fer_. Oh, my Girle, I cannot, Dare not be so unfaithfull to the trustHis maiesty put me in, though I would stay. 

_Ele_. I feare if you goe hence all will not long be well. 

_Hen_. Distrust you me, Eleonora?

_Ele_. No, indeed:You ever had with me th'opinionOf a most noble gentleman. 

_Fer_. What then?

_Ele_. I know not what besides my feare; and thatBeggs I may share your fortune, since you may notTake up such safety here as I have. 

_Fer_. Come, You are to blame: this heaven that now lookes on usWith rugged brow may quickly smile againeAnd then I shall revisite my _Eleonora_. So, farewell. [_Exit_. 

_Hen_. Till then with greater care then were the DragonsSupposd to watch the Golden Apples growingIn the _Hesperides_, shall _Henrico_ wayteOn his best loved. Oh, my _Eleonora_, I would to heaven there were no war but hereTo shoote love darts! each smile from this fayre EyeMay take an Army prisoners: let me giveMy life up here unto these lipps, and yetI shall, by the sweetnes of a kisse, take backThe same againe. Oh thou in whom aloneVertue hath perfect figure, hide not dayIn such a Cloud: what feare hath enterd here?My life is twisted in a Thread with thine;Were't not defenced, there could nothing comeTo make this cheeke looke pale, which at your EyeWill not fall dead before you. --

 _Enter Buzzano_. 

Sirra, let all your care and duty beeEmployed to cheere this Lady: pray, be merry. 

_Buz_. Oh, sir, yonders such doings. 

_Hen_. Hell on your bawling! not a sillable to affright her, or I shall tune your instrument there. 

_Buz_. Hele breake the head of my instrument!Why, sir, weomen are not affraid to heare of doings. 

_Hen_. Still jarring?

_Buz_. When the whole towne is altogether by th'eares you might giveme leave to jar a little my selfe:--I have done, sir. 

_Hen_. Putt on thy merryest face, _Buzzano_. 

_Buz_. I have but one face, but I can make a great many. 

_Hen_. My best _Eleonora_, I shall soone returne:In the meane time be owner of this house, The possesour. All danger, sweet, shall dwellFar off: Ile but enquire the state of thingsIn the Citty, and fly back to thee with loves wings. [_Exit_. 

_Ele_. I prithee call him backe. 

_Buz_. Signior _Henrico_, She has something more to say to you. [_Redit_. 

_Hen_. To me, sweetest?

_Ele_. _Henrico_, doe you love me?

_Hen_. By this faire hand. 

_Ele_. And will you leave me, too?

_Hen_. Not for the wealth of _Spaine_. 

_Ele_. Since I must be your prisoner let me haveMy keepers company, for I am afraidSome enemy in your absence, like a woolfeMay ceize on me. I know not whither nowI ere shall see my father: doe not youRavish yourselfe from me, for at the worstWe may dye here, _Henrico_; and I had ratherFall in your eye than in your absence beDishonord; if the destinyes have notSpun out a longer thread, lets dye together. 

_Hen_. Oh doe not racke my soule with these sad accents. Am I _Henrico_? there is not any placeCan promise such security as thisTo _Eleonora_. Doe not talke of dying, Our best dayes are to come: putt on thy quiet, And be above the reach of a misfortune. Ile presently wayte on thee, by this kisse. 

_Buz_. Would I might keepe your oath: so please you, lady, _Buzzano_ will sweare too. 

_Hen_. What?

_Buz_. That you'le be there and here agen presently. 

_Hen_. Attend here, sirra. 

_Buz_. If you must needes goe, pray, sir, keepe yourselfe out ofGun-shott. 

_Hen_. Mind you your charge. 

_Buz_. You shall heare a good report of my piece, I warrant you. Take heed you be not sent to heaven with a powder: a company of hottshotts[15] are abroad, I can tell you. 

_Ele_. If you will goe may your successe be faire. 

_Hen_. Farewell; heaven cannot chuse but heare your prayer. [_Exit_. 

_Buz_. Now what please you, madam? that I shall amble, trott, or walke?

_Ele_. Any pace. 

_Buz_. Yet, if you would referre it to me, I'de use none of them. 

_Ele_. What wouldst doe?

_Buz_. Why I would gallop or run, for I think long till I be at home inour Castle of comfort. If it please you Ile lead you a hand gallop inthe plaine ground, trott up hill with you & racke[16] downewards. 

_Ele_. Talke not of rackes, prithee; the times present too many. 

_Buz_. Ride me as you will, then; I am used both to curbe and snaffle. 

_Ele_. I prithee tell me, _Buzzano_, --so, I heare thy master call thee--

_Buz_. He may call me at his pleasure, forsooth. 

_Ele_. Dost thou know the nature of the _English_?

_Buz_. Both men and women: I travelled thither with an Embassadour. Forthe men Ile not misse you a haire of their condition; and for the womenI know 'em as well as if I had bene in their bellyes. 

_Ele_. Are they not cruell?

_Buz_. As Tygers, when they set on't: no mercy unlesse we aske themforgiveness. 

_Ele_. That's somewhat yet. 

_Buz_. But not to you; that's onely to men; for lett the women falldowne afore 'em never so often they'le rather fall upon them. Nay, someof them are so spitefull they'le breake their owne backes before theylet 'em rise againe. 

_Ele_. Foole, I meane not your way. 

_Buz_. Keepe your owne way, madam; I meane the playne way. 

_Ele_. Are they not unmercifull in their natures to such as are in theirpower, their Enemyes as we may be?

_Buz_. Their enemyes as we may be in their power! I had rather becramm'd into a cannon and shott against their ships then you shouldprove a witch & tell true now. The _Tartar_ is not halfe so grim; nota _Turke_ would use us so like _Jewes_ as they will. If it come to that once that they take the TowneYou will see _Spanish_ Dons heads cryed up and downe:as they doe our Orenges and Lymons; and the woemens heads shall off, too, --not a maydenhead of gold shall scape 'em. 

_Ele_. It is no valour to use TyrannyUpon the conquerd: they have been reportedA noble nation; and when last the prideOf this Citty adornd their victory, by commandOr their brave Generall, no outrage everThe soldiers durst committ upon our persons:Though all our wealth ran in full streames upon themOur honours were preserved, or fame belys them. 

_Buz_. No matter what fame sayes, perhaps I know more than she does;& yet, now you talk of valour, they are not comparable to us. 

_Ele_. How?

_Buz_. Why, valour is but the courage of a man; courage is, as they say, the spirit of a man; and the spirit of a man is the greatnes, as we callit, of his stomake. Now 'tis well knowen to the whole world they feedbetter and eate more then we: ergo, we have better stomackes then they. But, see! we have talk't our selves at home already, and the point(port?) is open. Will't please you enter, or shall I enter before you?I am your man, madam. 

_Ele_. You know the way best:--whilst abroad they areAt fight, twixt hope and feare at home I warre. 

 [_Exeunt_. 

_Actus Secundus_. 

(SCENE 1. )

 _Alarum; as the soft musicke begins a peale of ordnance goes off; then Cornetts sound a Battaile; which ended enter Captaine, Master of a ship, Dick Pike, with musketts_. 

_Cap_. Fought bravely, countrymen! Honour all this whileSate in a Throne of smoake with sparckling eyesLooking upon your courages & admiringYour resolutions, and now rewards your sweatWith victory. The castle groanes at heart;Her strongest ribbs are bruizd with battering Cannons, And she hath tane into her bowells fireEnough to melt her. 

_Ma_. My Lord came bravely up to her & shewd a spiritThat commands danger; his honorable exampleGave us new hearts. 

_Sol_. Faith, give the _Spanyards_ their due; they entertaind ushandsomely with hott meat; 'twas no cold welcome. 

_Pike_. But I would not willingly swallow their plums; they would riseshrewdly in a man's stomacke. 

_Cap_. At the first shott, when the _Convertine_ came in, 3 men werekilld. 

_Ma_. At the second 4, was't not?

_Cap_. At the third two more: one salutationCame so close that, with the very wind, My hands have almost lost the sense of feeling. _Jewell_, thou mad'st thy muskett spitt fire bravely. 

_Ma_. And my _Devonshire_ blade, honest _Dick Pike_, Spard not his Sugar pellets among my _Spanyards_. 

_Cap_. He did like a soldier, as he that chargd his muskett told me:in this service he hath dischargd 70 bulletts. 

_Pike_. I did my part, sir, and wish I had bene able to have layd 'emon thicker; but I have lynd somebodyes gutts, much good doe 'em with it;some of them have wishd well to me. 

_Cap_. Art hurt?

_Ma_. Where?

_Pike_. Nowhere; one of my flanckes itches a little; if a piece of leadhave crept in to hide it selfe cowardly I am not much in debt for't. 

_Cap_. Let my Surgeons search it. 

_Pike_. Search a pudding for plums; let my flesh alone; perhaps it wantssouldering. Shall we to't agen: I have halfe a score pills for my_Spanyards_--better then purging comfitts. 

 _Enter a Soldier_. 

_Cap_. What newes?

_Sol_. The fort is yielded. 

_Pike_. They have bene speechlesse a good while; I thought they'de yieldup the ghost shortly. 

_Sol_. But on condition to march away with flying colours, which wasgranted. 

_Cap_. What's become of the Captaine of the fort?

_Sol_. _Don Francisco Bustament_ is carryed aboord our Generalls ship, where he had a soldier like welcome; but he & all his company are putover to _Port Reall_ upon the maine land because they should not succourthe Citty. 

_Cap_. Unles he will swim to th'Iland. --And how fares the _Convertine_?

_Sol_. Her shroudes are torne to pieces & her tacklings to raggs. 

_Cap_. No matter; she carryes the more honour. 

_Sol_. 5 hundred Bulletts sticke in her sides. 

_Pike_. 'Tis well they scaped her heart, lying all the fight little morethan pistoll shott from 'em; her Starboard still to the fort & at least200 Musketts playing upon her. I wish'd heartily some of our Londonroaring Boyes[17] had bene in the heate of't. 

_Sol_. Wouldst have 'em twice burnt. 

_Pike_. They should have found a difference betwixt the smoake ofTobacco and of a muskett; another manner of noise than _dam me & refuseme_[18], which they vomitt dayly. It might have done some of 'em good, for by that meanes they might have prayd heartily once in their lives. 

_Cap_. The _Whitehall_[19] men did good service. 

_Ma_. Who? the Collyers?

_Sol_. 4000 Bulletts their ordnance & the _Hollanders_ dischargd uponthe Castle. 

_Cap_. 'Twas well done of all sides, Bullyes[20]: but, since our forcesare landed, let it be your care to looke well to the Ships: and honest_Dick_ of _Devonshire_ be not too carelesse of your hurts; he meanes tofight againe that provides for his recovery soonest. Hold thee, here issomething to pay the Surgeon and to wash your wound withall. 

_Pike_. My noble Captaine, I'le have care of my owne and drinke yourhealth with it. 

_Ma_. Thou deservest more than common encouragement: prithee, rememberme too. 

 [_Exeunt Capt. & Mast_. 

_Pike_. Why, now am I sorry I have no more hurt, gentlemen; but I tookeit as earnest to receive more if occasion bee. I have but a barrell tobestow among my Dons; while that lasts let 'em come & welcome, --thedrinke shalbe spicd to their hands. Their complexions are blacke, theyshall want no Balls to wash their faces; if any doe light in theirbodies they may chance be scourd all over. 

_Sol_. 2. We may hap to be in the suddes ourselves. 

_Pike_. There will be charges savd then; for my part I am but one, andthere are shotts enough. 

_Sol_. 2. More by a score then I hope wilbe payd these two dayes. 

_Pike_. Talke not of paying: here's more then a month comes to. Well, if our service be done, & there be any other liquor to be gott, weledrinke no salt water as long as this lasts. 

_Sol_. 2. Come, let's have a dish to our countrymen & let's remember_Tavestock_. 

_Pike_. Godamercy for that, boy. A match, a match!

 [_Exeunt_. 

(SCENE 2. )

 _Enter Henrico Gusman, his sword drawne, & Eleonora_. 

_Hen_. Yet the Citty is safe enough; feare not, _Eleonora_;The Bullets make no noyse here: if the TowneShould yield her strength up to th'invader, thouArt lockd up like a spirit in a Christall:Not an enchanted Castle, held up byStrong charme, is halfe so safe. This house, though nowIt carry not the figure & faire shapeWhich the first workeman gave it, eating TimeHaving devourd the face of't, is withinA Sanctuary, & hath so much cunningCouchd in the body not a LaborinthIs so full of Meanders. 

_Ele_. Sir, your presenceConfirmes me in opinion of my safety;Not of my life so much, for that's a thingI owe to nature & should one day beA-weary of it; like to Innes we takeOur houses up, having but here a placeOf _Lodging_ not of _dwelling_:--but of _honour_You give me my assurance, for in suchA time of thicke confusions I much feareThat might be hazarded. And who knowes whatThe soldier that hath no lawe but thatOf cruelty and rapine, when like a BirdOf prey his Tallents are possessd of oneSo weake as I am--

_Hen_. He that durst offendThee with a sillable or but fright that bloudOut of thy Cheekes to seeke another place, Not daring to be seene there where it nowIs of itselfe sufficient to ravishA mortall that with just eyes can looke on it, Had better be a divell. But a haire, The poorest part of thee & in this excellentBecause 'tis thine, should any dare to ravishFrom these his soft companions, which the windWould be for ever proud to play withall, H'had better dig his mothers coffin upAnd with his teeth eate what the wormes have left. 

_Ele_. I know you will defend me. 

_Hen_. Will defend thee!Have I a life, a soule that in thy serviceI would not wish expird! I doe but borrowMy selfe from thee. 

_Ele_. Rather you put to InterestAnd, for that principall you have creditedTo _Eleonora_ her heart is paid backeAs the iust Usury. 

_Hen_. You undoe me, sweet, With too much love; if ere I marry theeI feare thou'lt kill me. 

_Ele_. How?

_Hen_. With tendring me too much, my _Eleonora_;For in my conscience thou'lt extreamely love me, And extreames often kill. 

_Ele_. There can be no extreme of love[21], sir. 

_Hen_. Yes, but there may; and some say JealousyRuns from the Sea, a rivolet but deductedFrom the mayne Channell. 

_Ele_. This is a new language. 

_Hen_. Have you not heard men have been killd with Joy?Our griefe doth but contract the heart, & gladnesseDilate the same; and soo too much of eytherIs hott i'th' fourth degree. 

_Ele_. Sir, your discourseIs stuff of severall pieces and knitts notWith that you usd but now: if we can practizeA vertuous love there's no hurt to exceed in't. --What doe you, Sir?

_Hen_. Looke on thee. 

_Ele_. Why doe you eye me soe? this is not usuall. Are you well?

_Hen_. Well, never better. 

_Ele_. Pray heaven it bode me no unhappinesse!How doth my father?

_Hen_. He's very well, too; feare not. 

_Ele_. Still I read in your eyes--

_Hen_. What Babyes[22], prety one? Thy owne face, naught else;I receive that way all this beauty intoMy heart, and 'tis perhaps come backe to lookeOut at the window. Come, Ile winke againe, It shall not trouble you:--hence my trayterous thoughts. 

_Ele_. Indeed you are not well. 

_Hen_. Indeed I am not; all's not well within me. Why should I be a villaine? _Eleonora_Doe not looke on me; turne those eyes away, They would betray thee to thy sorrow; orLett me by parting carry along with meThat which to know undoes thee. 

_Ele_. Are you not hurt?

_Hen_. Yes. 

_Ele_. Good heaven defend! I have a soveraigne Balme. [_Exit_. 

_Hen_. Vanish, you ugly shapes, & with her presenceQuitt your sharp stings! into what monstrous creatureFeele I myself a-growing! yet I cannotForce backe the streame, it comes so fast upon me;I cannot. 

 _Enter Eleonora_. 

_Ele_. Here, good _Henrico_, let me see your wound. 

_Hen_. No, I am well againe; thankes, my best love. Come, let us walke and talke; I had a fancy, But 'tis no matter:--_Buzzano_!

 _Enter Buzzano_. 

_Buz_. Did you call?

_Hen_. Yes, the Balme here--

_Buz_. What shall I doe with it?

_Hen_. Lay it up safe; 'tis good for a greene woundBut mines a blacke one:--and d'you heare, sirra, Draw up the bridge, give entrance unto none. 

_Buz_. All my fellowes are abroad, sir; there's nobody at home but I. 

_Hen_. No matter, let none enter; were my fatherBrought with a whirlwind backe, he finds all shuttTill I have done. 

_Buz_. Well, sir;--madam, all this is that you should not b' afraid:you now see what a kind man he is, --he will suffer none to enter buthimselfe. [_Exit_. 

_Ele_. If all this proceed out of your care of me, how much am I boundto acknowledge you. Sir, methinkes you minde me not. 

_Hen_. Yes, I doe nothing else but thinke of thee, & of my father, too, _Don Pedro_. 

_Ele_. Ha! I hope he's well. 

_Hen_. I wish he were returned, my _Eleonora_, for both our sakes. 

_Ele_. The same wish I, sir. 

_Hen_. That then our Joys, which now like flowers nippdWith frost, hang downe the head as if the stalkesCould not sustaine the toppes, they droope to much;--At his returne th'art mine. 

_Ele_. I am yours nowIn holyest Contract. 

_Hen_. That's the ground we build on:Faith, since allready the foundation's layd, Let's work upon't. Y'are mine, you say, allready--Mine by all tearmes of Law, & nothing wantingBut the possession: let's not then expectTh'uncertainety of a returne from France, But be all one ymediately. 

_Ele_. I understand you not. 

_Hen_. Since y'are a Tree reservd for me what nowShould hinder me from climbing? All your applesI know are ripe allready; 'tis not stealth, I shall rob nobody. 

_Ele_. You'le not be a divell?

_Hen_. No, I will but play the man with you: why, you know 'tis nothing. 

_Ele_. Will you enforce mine honour? oh, _Henrico_, Where have you left your goodnesse? sure you cannotBe so ignoble, if you thinke me worthyTo be your wife at least, to turne _Eleonora_Into a whore. 

_Hen_. Pish! some hungry Landlords would have rent beforeThe Quarter day, --I doe no more: by faire meanesYield up your fort; the Tenement is mine owneAnd I must dwell in't. 

_Ele_. My feares pointed wrong:You are no enemy, no wolfe; it wasA villaine I disturbed: oh, make me notFind in your presence that destructionMy thoughts were so affrighted with. 

_Hen_. We shall have such adoe now!

_Ele_. Your fathers house will prove no castle to meeIf you at home doe wound mee. 'Twas an AngellSpoke in you lately not my Cheeke should beeMade pale with feare. Lay not a lasting blushOn my white name:--No haire should perish hereWas vowed even now:--Oh let not a blacke deed, And by my sworne preserver, be my deathMy ever living death. _Henrico_, callTo mind your holy vowes; thinke on our parents, Ourselves, our honest names; doe not kill allWith such a murthering piece. You are not longT'expect, with the consent of men and angells, That which to take now from me will be losseA losse of heaven to thee. Oh, do not pawne itFor a poore minutes sin. 

_Hen_. If't be a worke, madam, of so short time, Pray let me beg a minutes privacy;'Twill be soone done. 

_Ele_. Yes, but the horrour ofSo foule a deed shall never: there's layd upEternity of wrath in hell for lust:Oh, 'tis the devill's exercise! _Henrico_, You are a man, a man whom I have layd upNearest my heart: in you 'twill be a sinTo threaten heaven & dare that Justice throwDowne Thunder at you. Come, I know you doeBut try my vertue, whether I be proofeAgainst anothers Battery: for these teares--

_Hen_. Nay, then I see you needs will try my strength:My bloud's on fire, I boyle with expectationTo meete the pleasure and I will. [_He forces her in_. 

_Ele_. Helpe, helpe!

 _Enter Buzzano_. 

_Buz_. Helpe? what nightingale was that? did one cry out for helpe?there's no Christian soule in the house but they two & my selfe; and'twas not mine, I know by the smallnes of the voice; twas some womancryde out, & therefore can be none but my young Lady, --it was she assure as I am hungry; he's with her. But why, having one man did she cryout for more? oh, our _Spanish_ ovens are not heated with one Bavyn. [23]Well, I must say nothing; my young Cocke has bene treading. Ile treadsoftly & see what they doe:--but, see!

 _Enter Henrico & Eleonora, loose haired and weeping_. 

_Hen_. What doe you looke after?

_Buz_. Why, sir, I looke after a voyce that appeard to me even now, crying "helpe, "--a very small one. 

_Hen_. If what thou seest or heard'st be ever muttered by theeThough in thy sleep, villaine, Ile pistol thee. 

_Buz_. Hum, it will not be safe to dreame of a knave shortly. Are you sogood at a gun? if you use this too often your birding piece will scarcecarry a yard levell. 

_Hen_. Come, dresse your hayre up & be wise at last:No more, I have done. 

_Buz_. So I thinke in my conscience, --he hath done with her. 

_Hen_. If you can be so simple to proclaime it, I can be impudent. 

_Ele_. Yet dar'st thou live? & doe I live to seeMyselfe the shame of weomen? have I notWept teares enough to drowne me? then let fireEnthrone it selfe within me & begetProdigious Cometts, that with flaming hairesMay threaten danger to thee!

_Hen_. Nay, nay, nay, if you be so hott Ile brave you: like wine that'sburnt you must be set light by, & then you'le come to a temper. [_Exit_. 

_Ele_. Oh, helpe me out of hell!

_Buz_. Sh'has bene at Barleybreake. [24]--Madam I must say nothing:--there is a Pistol and so forth:--but if you have occasion to use me, try mee; if I doe not prove an honester man to you then my Master, would my Cod piece point were broake. I know what I know, and yet Iletell no tales;--but if ever I come to speake once--I say nothing. 

_Ele_. Oh that I could not breath! how can I haveA Joy in life whose honour's in the Grave!

 [_Exeunt_. 

(SCENE 3. )

 _Enter Pike with his sword in his hand, a Cloake in his Arme_. 

_Pike_. The freshnes of this Ayre does well after the saltnes of theSea. A pleasant Country, too, to looke upon, & would serve well to liveupon if a man had it & knew how to place it out of this hott Clymate! Iwould I had a matter, or a Mannour, indeede, of a 1, 000 acres of thesewoodlands & roome to sett it in _Devonshire_; I would compare with anyprince betweene _Tavistoke_ & _Parradice_ for an Orchard. But I couldwish I were not alone here in this Conceit, dreaming of Golden Apples, least they prove bitter fruite. Whether are our land soldiers straggeld, troe? I would faine sett eye on some of them; Ile venture a littlefarther; _Devonshire Dick_ was never afraid yet. --How now, my hearts?upon a retreat so soone?

 _Enter Three Soldiers_. 

1. I, to the shipps; we have our loades here of the best merchandise wecan find in this Quarter. 

2. Will you taste a Lymon? excellent good to coole you. 

_Pike_. They are goodly ones; where gott you them?

3. A little above here in an Orchard, where we left some of our Company. 

_Pike_. But may one goe safe, without danger?

1. As safely as ever you gatherd nutts in _England_; the _Spaniards_are all fled. 

2. Not soe much as the leg of a _Spanyard_ left to squayle at theirowne appletrees. [_Exeunt Soldiers_. 

_Pike_. Ile have a pull at these pomcitrons for my noble Captaine;& if I had a Porters basket full of 'em I would count them no burthenin requitall of some part of the love he hath shewen me. 

 [_Exit_. 

(SCENE 4. )

 _Enter 3 other Soldiers_. 

1. They cannot be far before us, I am sure. 

2. But for the hedge we might descry them within two muskett shott. 

3. Pray God the enemy be not within one musket shott of us behind theirhedges; for I am sure I saw an Harquebuse whip ore the way before us buteven now. Oh, oh!

 [_Three or 4 shott dischargd, 2 soldiers slaine, the other falls on his belly_. 

 _Enter Pike_. 

_Pike_. Are you bouncing? Ile no further. Sure these can be noCrowkeepers nor birdscarers from the fruite! what rascalls were myCountrymen to tell me there was no danger!--alas, what's here? 3 ofour soldiers slaine! dead, shott through the very bowells! so, is thisquite dead too? poore wretches, you have payd for your Capon sauce. 

3. Oh, oh!

_Pike_. Here's some life in yt yet: what cheare? how is't, my heart ofgold? speake, man, if thou canst; looke this way; I promise thee 'tis anhonest man & a true _Englishman_ that speakes to thee. Thou look'st awayas if thou didst not trust me: I prithee speake to me any thing, Iletake thy word & thanke the, too. Alas, I feare he's past it; he strivesand cannot speake. --'Tis good to shift this ground; they may be chargingmore hidden villany while I stand prating heere. --He breathes still;come, thou shalt not stay behind for want of leggs or shoulders to bearethee. If there be surgery in our ships to recover the use of thy tongue, thou mayst one day acknowledge a man & a Christian in honest _Dicke ofDevonshire_. Come along;--nay now I feare my honesty is betrayd;--ahorseman proudly mounted makes towards me, and 'tis a Don that thinkeshimselfe as brave as _St. Jaques_. What shall I doe? there is nostarting; I must stand th'encounter. --Lye still a while & pray if thoucanst, while I doe my best to save my owne & the litle breath thou hastleft. But I am in that prevented too: his breath's quite gone allready, and all the Christian duty I have now left for thee is to close thy eyeswith a short prayer: mayst thou be in heaven, Amen. --Now _Don Diego, &Don Thunderbolt_, or _Don Divell_, I defye thee. 

 _Enter Don John arm'd. Pike drawes & wrapps his Cloake about his arme_. 

_Jo_. Oh viliaco, diable, _Anglese_!

 [_They fight_. 

_Pike_. A pox upon thee, _Hispaniola_! Nay, if you be no better in theReare then in the Van I shall make no doubt to vanquish, & vanquash you, too, before we part, my doughty _Don Diego_. [_He hath him downe, & disarmes him_. 

_Jo_. Mercy, _Englishman_, oh spare my life! pardonne moye je vous pre. 

_Pike_. And take your goods? is that your meaning, _Don_, it shall beso; your horse and weapons I will take, but no pilferage. I am nopocketeer, no diver into slopps: yet you may please to empty them yourselfe, good _Don_, in recompense of the sweet life I give you; youunderstand me well. This coyne may passe in _England_: what is yourDonship calld, I pray. 

_Jo_. _Don John_, a knight of _Spaine_. 

_Pike_. A knight of _Spaine_! and I a Squire of _Tavestock_: well, _DonJohn_, I am a little in hast & am unmannerly constreynd to leave your_Castilian_ on foote, while my _Devonshire_ worship shall teach your_Spanish_ Jennett an _English_ gallop. A dios, signior. --

 _Enter_ 12 _musketiers_. 

Oh what a tyde of fortunes spight am INow to swim through! beare up yet, Jovyall heart, And while thou knowest heavenly mercy doe not start. Once more let me embrace you, signior. 

1. I say he is an _Englishman_: lett's shoote him. 

2. I say the other is a _Spanyard_ & _Don John_; & we dare not shootethe one for feare of killing th'other. 

_Jo_. Oh hold and spare us both, for we are frends. 

1. But by your leave we will part your embraces: so disarme, disarme. 

_Jo_. I thanke you, Countrymen; I hope you'le trust my honour with myarmes. 

1. Yes, take them signior; but you will yeild the _Englishman_ ourprisoner?

_Jo_. Yes, with a Villaines marke. [_He woundes him_. 

1. A villaines mark, indeed! wound a disarmed souldier!

_Jo_. He triumphd in the odds he had of me, And he shall know that from the _Spanish_ raceRevenge, though nere so bloudy, is not base. Away with himA prisoner into th'Citty!

_Pike_. Where you please, Although your Law's more merciles then Seas. 

 [_Exeunt_. 

(SCENE 5. )

 _Enter Don Ferdinando, the Teniente, with attendants; Bustamente brought in with a Guard_. 

_Fer_. _Francisco Bustamente_, late Captaine of the Castle, Stand forth accusd of Treason gainst his Maiesty. 

_Bust_. It is a language I not understandAnd but that by the rule of loyaltyUnto my king and country I am madeAttendant to the Law, & in this honourdPresence, the Governour & _Teniente_, Under whose jurisdiction I hold place, I would not beare nor heare it. 

_Fer_. I'de be gladYou could as easily acquitt your selfeOf guilt as stand up in your owne defence;But, _Bustamente_, when it doth appeareTo law & reason, on which law is grounded, Your great offence in daring to betrayThe Spanish honour unto Infamy, In yeilding up the fort on such slight cause, You can no lesse then yeild yourselfe most guilty. 

_Bust_. Farre be it from your thought, my honourd Lord, To wrest the hazardous fortune of the warreInto the bloudyer censure of the Law. Was it my fault that in the first assaultThe Canoniers were slayne, whereby our strength, Our mayne offensive strength, was quite defeatedAnd our defensive part so much enfeebledThat possibility to subsist was lost, Or by resistance to preserve one life?While there was sparke of hope I did maintayneThe fight with fiery resolutionAnd (give me leave to speake it) like a Sodier. 

_Ten_. To my seeming your resolutionWas forwardest to yeild then to repell;You had else stood longer out. 

_Bust_. We stood the losse of most of our best men, And of our musketiers no lesse then fiftyFell by the adverse shott; whose bodyes with their armesWere cast by my directions downe a wellBecause their armes should neyther arme our foesNor of our losse the sight give them encouragement. 

_Fer_. That pollicy pleades no excuse; you yetHad men enough, had they bene soldiers, Fit for a Leaders Justification. And doe not we know that 6 score at leastOf those base Picaros with which you stuff'dThe fort, to feed, not fight, --unworthy ofThe name of _Spanyards_, much lesse of soldiers--At once ran all away like sheep together, Having but ore the walls descryde th'approachOf th'Enemy? Some of the feare-spurrd villainesWere overturnd by slaughter in their flight, Others were taken & are sure to findOur lawes as sharpe as either Sword or Bullet. For your part, _Bustamente_, for that you haveDone heretofore more for your Countryes love, You shall not doubt of honourable tryall, Which in the Court of warre shalbe determind, At _Sherris_, whitherward you instantlyShall with a guard be sent. --See't done: away. 

_Bust_. The best of my desire is to obey. 

 [_Exit with a Guard_. 

 _Enter Don John, Pike (with his face wounded}, a Guard of musketts_. 

_Fer_. Whence is that soldier?

1. Of _England_. 

_Jo_. Or of hell. 

1. It was our chance to come unto the rescueOf this renowned knight, _Don John_, Who was his prisoner as he now is ours. Some few more of his mates we shott & slewThat were (out of their _English_ liquorishness)Bold to robb orchards of forbidden fruite. 

2. It was a fine ambition; they would have thoughtThemselves as famous as their CountrymanThat putt a girdle[25] round about the world, Could they have said, at their returne to _England_, Unto their Sons, "Looke Boyes; this fruite your fatherWith his adventurous hands in _Spayne_ did gather. "

_Fer_. 'Tis a goodly fellow. 

1. Had you not better have gone home without Lymons to eate Capons withyour frends then to stay here without Capons to taste Lymons with usthat you call Enemyes?

_Pike_. I could better fast with a noble Enemy then feast with unworthyfrends. 

_Fer_. How came he by these woundes?

_Pike_. Not by noble Enemyes: this on my faceBy this proud man, yet not more proud then base;For, when my hands were in a manner bound, I having given him life, he gave this wound. 

_Fer_. 'Twas unadvisd. 

_Ten_. The more unmanly done:And though, _Don John_, by law y'are not accusd, He being a common Enemy, yet being a manYou in humanity are not excusd. 

_Jo_. It was my fury & thirst of revenge. 

_Fer_. Reason & manhood had become you better;Your honour's wounded deeper then his flesh. Yet we must quitt your person & committThe _Englishman_ to prison. 

_Ten_. To prison with him; but let best care be takenFor the best surgeons, that his wounds be look'd to. 

_Pike_. Your care is noble, and I yeild best thankes;And 'tis but need, I tell your Seignioryes, For I have one hurt more then you have seene, As basely given & by a baser person:A _Flemming_ seeing me led a prisonerCryde, "Whither doe you lead that _English_ dog, Kill, kill him!" cryde hee, "he's no Christian;"And ran me in the bodie with his halbertAt least four inches deepe. 

_Fer_. Poore man, I pitty thee. --But to the prison with him. 

_Ten_. And let him be carefully lookt to. 

 [_Exeunt omnes_. 

_Actus Tertius_. 

(SCENE 1. )

 _Enter Captaine, Hill, Secretary, Jewell_. 

_Cap_. Our Generall yet shewd himselfe right noble in offering ransomefor poore Captive _Pike_. 

_Sec_. So largely, too, as he did, Captaine. 

_Cap_. If any reasonable price would have bene accepted it had benegiven Mr. Secretary, I assure you. 

_Jew_. I can testify that at our returne, in our Generalls name & myowne, I made the large offer to the _Teniente_, who will by no meanesrender him. Sure they hold him for some great noble purchace. 

_Sec_. A Barronet at least, one of the lusty blood, Captaine. 

_Cap_. Or perhaps, Mr. Secretary, some remarkable Commonwealths man, apollitician in Government. 

_Sec_. 'Twere a weake state-body that could not spare such members. Alas, poore _Pike_, I thinke thy pate holds no more pollicy than aPollax. 

_Hill_. Who is more expert in any quality then he that hath it at hisfingers ends; & if he have more pollicy in his braines then dirt underhis nayles Ile nere give 2 groates for a Calves head. But without allquestion he hath done some excellent piece of villany among the Diegoes, or else they take him for a fatter sheep to kill then he is. 

_Cap_. Well, gentlemen, we all can but condole the losse of him; andthough all that we all come hither for be not worth him, yet we must becontent to leave him. The fleete is ready, the wind faire, and we mustexpect him no longer. 

_Hill_. He was a true _Devonshire_ blade. 

_Sec_. My Countryman, sir: therefore would I have given the price of ahundred of the best Toledoes rather then heare the misse of him at homecomplayned by his Wife and Children. 

_Jew_. Your tendernes becomes you, sir, but not the time, which wafts ushence to shun a greater danger. 

 _Exeunt_. 

(SCENE 2. )

 _Enter Pike in shackles, nightcap, playsters on his face; a Jaylor_. 

_Pike_. The fleete is gone & I have now no hope of liberty; yet I amwell refreshd in the care hath bene taken for my cure. But was ever_English_ horse thus _Spanish_ bitted & bossd![26]

_Jay_. Sir, the care of your keeper, by whom this ease hath beenprocured, requires remuneration. 

_Pike_. Here's for you, my frend. 

_Jay_. I assure you, the best Surgeons this part of _Spaine_ affoords, through my care taken of you; & you may thanke me. 

_Pike_. What an arrogant rascall's this!--Sir, I thought my thankesherein had chiefly appertaind to the humanity of the Governour, & thatyour especiall care had bene in providing these necessary shackles tokeepe me from running into further danger: these I tooke to be thestrong bonds of your frendship. 

_Jay_. Sir, I hope they fitt you as well as if they had bene made foryou. Oh, I am so much your servant that I doe wish 'em stronger for yoursake. 

_Pike_. 'Tis overwell as it is, sir. 

_Jay_. You are most curteous. [_Exit_. 

_Pike_. A precious rogue! If the Jaylors be so pregnant what is thehangman, troe? By the time my misery hath brought me to climbe to hisacquaintance I shall find a frend to the last gaspe. What's here? aLady? are the weomen so cruell here to insult ore Captive wretches. 

 _Enter Catelyna & Jaylor_. 

_Cat_. Is this the English prisoner?

_Jay_. Yes, madam. 

_Cat_. Trust me, a goodly person. 

_Pike_. She eyes me wistly; sure she comes not to instruct her selfe inthe art of painting by the patternes of my face!

_Cat_. Sir, shall I speake with you?

_Pike_. Yes, Lady, so you will not mock mee. 

_Cat_. Indeed I cannot, but must needs acknowledgeMyselfe beholding to you. 

_Pike_. This I must beare; I will doe soe & call't my sweet affliction. 

_Cat_. Will you heare me, sir? I am the Lady--

_Pike_. Yes, I doe heare you say you are the Lady; but let me tell you, madam, that Ladyes, though they should have tenderest sence of honour &all vertuous goodnesse, & so resemble Goddesses as well in soule asfeature, doe often prove dissemblers & in their seemely breasts bearecruelty & mischiefe. If you be one of those, oh, be converted; returnefrom whence you came & know 'tis irreligious, nay divelish to tread &triumph over misery. 

_Cat_. How well he speakes, yet in the sence bewrayingA sence distracted: sure his captivity, His wounds, & hard entreaty make him franticke!Pray heare me, sir, & in two words Ile tell youEnough to win beleeife: I am the LadyOf the Knight vanquished by you, _Don John_. 

_Pike_. Y'have said enough, indeed: pitty of heaven, What new invented cruelty is this!Was't not enough that by his ruthlesse basenesI had these wounds inflicted, but I mustBe tortured with his wifes uniust reioycings!'Twas well his politicke feare, which durst not comeTo glory in his handy worke himselfe, Could send your priviledg'd Ladyship. 

_Cat_. Indeed, you much mistake me; as I live, As I hope mercy & for after life, I come for nothing but to offer thankesUnto your goodnes, by whose manly temperMy lord and husband reassum'd his life;And aske your Christian pardon for the wrongWhich by your suffering now pleads him guilty. Good sir, let no mistrust of my iust purposeCrosse your affection: did you know my loveTo honour and to honest actions, You would not then reiect my gratulations. And since that deeds doe best declare our meaning, I pray accept of this, This money and these clothes and my requestUnto your keeper for best meats and winesThat are agreable to your health and taste. And, honest frend, thou knowst and darest, I hope, Believe me I will see thee payd for all. 

_Jay_. Yes, my good Lady. --Loe you, sir, you seeStill how my care provides your good: you maySuppose the Governours humanityTakes care for you in this, too. 

_Pike_. Excellent Ladye I doe now beleiveVirtue and weomen are growne frends againe. 

 _Enter Don John_. 

_Jo_. What magicall Illusion's this? 'tis she!Confusion seize your charitable blindnesse!Are you a prison visiter for this, To cherish my dishonour for your merit?

_Cat_. My lord, I hope my Charity workes for your honour, Releiving him whose mercy spard your life. 

_Jo_. But that I'me subiect to the law & knowMy blowes are mortall, I would strike thee dead. Ignoble & degenerate from Spanish bloud, Darst thou maintaine this to be charity?Thy strumpett itch & treason to my bedThou seekst to act in cherishing this villaine. 

_Cat_. Saints be my witnesses you doe me wrong!

_Jo_. Thou robbst my honour. 

_Pike_. You wound her honour and you robb yourselfe, And me and all good Christians, by this outrage. 

_Jo_. Doe you prate, sir?

_Pike_. Sir, I may speake; my tongue's unshackled yet, And, were my hands and feete so, on free groundI would mayntayne the honour of this LadyAgainst an Hoast of such ignoble husbands. 

_Jo_. You are condemnd allready by the LawI make no doubt; and therefore speake your pleasure. --And here come those fore whom my rage is silent. 

 _Enter Ferdinando, Teniente, Guard_. 

_Fer_. Deliver up your prisoner to the _Teniente_. I need not, sir, instruct you in your placeTo beare him with a guard as is appointedUnto the publicke tryall held at _Sherrys_. 

_Ten_. It shalbe done. 

_Fer_. How long hath he bene your prisoner?

_Jay_. 18 days. 

_Fer_. You & the Surgeons out of the Kings payIle see dischargd. --You have, according to the Order, Conveyd already _Bustamente_ thitherTo yeild account for yeilding up the Castle?

_Ten_. 'Tis done, my Lord. 

_Fer_. _Don John_, you likewise in his Maiesties nameStand chargd to make your personall appearanceTo give in evidence against this prisoner. 

_Jo_. I shall be ready there, my Lord. 

_Pike_. To _Sherrys_? they say the best sackes there. I meane to take one draught of dying comfort. 

_Cat_. I hope you'le not deny my companyTo waite on you to _Sherris_?

_Jo_. No, you shall goe to see your frend there totter. [27]

_Pike_. I have a suite, my Lord; to see an _Englishman_, A merchant, prisoner here, before I goe. 

_Fer_. Call him; that done, you know your charge. 

 [_Exit Jaylor_. 

_Ten_. And shall performe it. 

 [_Ex. Fer. , John, Catalina_. 

 _Enter Jaylor & Woodrow_. 

_Pike_. Oh, Mr. _Woodrow_, I must now take leaveOf prison fellowship with you. Your fortunesMay call you into _England_, after paymentOf some few money debts; but I am calldUnto a further tryall: my debt is life, Which if they take not by extortion, I meane by tortures, I shall gladly pay it. 

_Wo_. I have heard, & thought you by what I had heardFree from feares passion: still continue soe, Depending on heavens mercy. 

_Pike_. You doe instruct me well; but, worthy Countryman, Once more let me give you this to remember, And tis my last request:--that when your better starsShall guide you into _England_, youle be pleasdTo take my Country _Devonshire_ in your way;Wheir you may find in _Taverstoke_ (whom I left)My wife & children, wretched in my misfortunes. Commend me to them, tell them & my frendsThat if I be, as I suspect I shalbe, At _Sherris_ putt to death, I dyed a Christian soldier, No way, I hope, offending my iust KingNor my religion, but the _Spanish_ lawes. 

 [_Exeunt_. 

(SCENE 3. )

 _Enter Don Pedro, reading a Letter, & Manuell_. 

_Man_. Dear sir, let me have power to recallYour graver thoughts out of this violent stormeOf passion that thus oerwhelmes your mind. Remember what you are, and with what strength, What more then manly strength, you have outworneDangers of Battaile, when your warlike lookesHave outfac'd horrour. 

_Pedro_. Oh, my son, my son, Horrour it selfe upon the wings of Death, Stretcht to the uttermost expansionOver the wounded body of an Army, Could never carry an aspect like this, This murthering spectacle, this field of paperStucke all with Basiliskes eyes. Read but this word, 'The ravisht _Eleonora_!'--does't not seemeLike a full cloud of bloud ready to burstAnd fall upon our heads?

_Man_. Indeed you take too deepe a sence of it. 

_Pedro_. What? when I see this meteor hanging ore it?This prodigy in figure of a man, Clad all in flames, with an InscriptionBlazing on's head, 'Henrico the Ravisher!'

_Man_. Good sir, avoid this passion. 

_Pedro_. In battailes I have lost, and seene the fallsOf many a right good soldier; but they fellLike blessed grayne that shott up into honour. But in this leud exploit I lose a sonAnd thou a brother, my _Emanuell_, And our whole house the glory of her name:Her beauteous name that never was distayned, Is by this beastly fact made odious. 

_Man_. I pray, sir, be your selfe and let your JudgementEntertaine reason: From whom came this Letter?

_Pedro_. From the sad plaintiffe, _Eleonora_. 

_Man_. Good;And by the common poast: you every weekeReceiving letters from your noble frendesYet none of their papers can tell any such tidings. 

_Pedro_. All this may be too, sir. 

_Man_. Why is her father silent? has she no kindred, No frend, no gentleman of note, no servantWhom she may trust to bring by word of mouthHer dismall story. 

_Pedro_. No, perhaps she would notText up his name in proclamations. 

_Man_. Some villaine hath filld up a Cup of poysonT'infect the whole house of the _Guzman_ family;And you are greedyest first to take it downe. 

_Pedro_. That villaine is thy brother. 

_Man_. Were you a strangerArmd in the middle of a great BattalionAnd thus should dare to taxe him, I would waveMy weapon ore my head to waft you forthTo single combatt: if you would not come, Had I as many lives as I have hayres, [28]I'de shoot 'em all away to force my passageThrough such an hoast untill I met the TraytourTo my dear brother. --Pray, doe not thinke so, sir. 

_Pedro_. Not? when it shall be said one of our name(Oh heaven could I but say he were not my son!)Was so dishonorable, So sacrilegious to defile a TempleOf such a beauty & goodnes as she was!

_Man_. As beauteous is my brother in his souleAs she can be. 

_Pedro_. Why dost thou take his part so?

_Man_. Because no dropp of honour falls from himBut I bleed with it. Why doe I take his part?My sight is not so precious as my brother:If there be any goodnes in one manHe's Lord of that; his vertues are full seasWhich cast up to the shoares of the base worldAll bodyes throwne into them: he's no drunkard;I thinke he nere swore oath; to him a womanWas worse than any scorpion, till he castHis eye on _Eleonora_: and therefore, sir, I hope it is not so. 

_Pedro_. Was not she so?

_Man_. I doe not say, sir, that she was not so, Yet women are strange creatures; but my hopeIs that my brother was not so ignoble. Good sir, be not too credulous on a Letter:Who knowes but it was forgd, sent by some foe, As the most vertuous ever have the most?I know my Brother lov'd her honour soAs wealth of kingdoms could not him enticeTo violate it or his faith to her. Perhapps it is some queint devise of theirsTo hast your journey homeward out of _France_, To terminate their long-desired marriage. 

_Pedro_. The language of her letter speakes no such comfort, But I will hasten home; &, for you areSo confident as not to thinke his honourAny way toucht, your good hopes be your guideAuspiciously to find it to your wish. Therefore my counsaile is you post before, And, if you find that such a wrong be done, Let such provision instantly beBetwixt you made to hide it from the worldBy giving her due nuptiall satisfaction, That I may heare no noise of't at my comming. Oh, to preserve the ReputationOf noble ancestry that nere bore stayne, Who would not passe through fire or dive the mayne?

 [_Exeunt_. 

(SCENE 4. )

 _Enter Fernando & Eleonora_. 

_Fer_. Cease, Eleonora, cease these needles plaints, Less usefull than thy helpe of hands was atThe deed of darkness, --oh, the blackest deedThat ever overclouded[29] my felicity!To speake, or weepe thy sorrow, but allayesAnd quenches anger, which we must now cherishTo further iust revenge. How I could wishBut to call backe the strength of Twenty yeares!

_Ele_. That I might be in that unborne againe, sir. 

_Fer_. No, _Eleonora_, that I were so ennabledWith my owne hands to worke out thy wrongeUpon that wretch, that villaine, oh, that Ravisher!But, though my hands are palsyed with rage, The Law yet weares a sword in our defence. 

 _Enter Henrico_. 

_Ele_. Away, my Lord & Father! see the monsterApproaching towards you! who knowes but nowHe purposeth an assassinate on your life, As he did lately on my Virgin honour?

_Fer_. Fury, keepe off me!

_Hen_. What life, what honour meane you? _Eleonora_, What is the matter? Who hath lost anything?

_Ele_. Thou impudent as impious, I have lost--

_Hen_. Doe you call me names?

_Ele_. The solace of my life, for which--

_Hen_. A fine new name for a maydenhead!

_Ele_. May all the curses of all iniured weomenFall on thy head!

_Hen_. Would not the curses of all good ones serve?So many might perhaps be borne: but, pray, Tell me what moves you thus? Why stand you soeAloofe, my Lord? I doe not love to beeUsd like a stranger: welcome's all I looke for. 

_Fer_. What boldnesse beyond madnesse gives him languadge!Nothing but well-bred stuffe! canst see my daughterAnd not be strooke with horrour of thy shameTo th' very heart? Is't not enough, thou Traytour, To my poore Girles dishonour to abuse her, But thou canst yett putt on a divells visourTo face thy fact & glory in her woe?

_Hen_. I would I were acquainted with your honours meaning allthis while. 

_Fer_. The forreine Enemy which came to the CittyAnd twice dancd on the Sea before it, wavingFlaggs of defyance & of fury to it, Were nor before nor now this second timeSo cruell as thou. For when they first were hereNow well nigh 40 yeares since, & marched throughThe very heart of this place, trampled onThe bosomes of our stoutest soldiers, The weomen yet were safe, Ladyes were freeAnd that by the especial commandOf the then noble Generall: & now being safeFrom common danger of our enemyes, Thou lyon-like hast broake in on a LambeAnd preyd upon her. 

_Hen_. How have I preyd?

_Fer_. Dost thou delightTo heare it named, villaine, th'hast ravisht her. 

_Hen_. I am enough abusd, & now 'tis timeTo speake a litle for my selfe, my Lord. By all the vowes, the oathes & imprecationsThat ere were made, studied, or practised, As I have a soule, as she & you have soules, I doe not know, nor can, nor will confesseAny such thing, for all your Circumventions:Ile answer all by Law. 

_Ele_. Oh, my Lord, heare me!By all that's good--

_Fer_. Peace, _Eleonora_; I have thought the Course. If you dare justify the accusationYou shall to _Sherrys_, and then before the JudgesPlead your owne cause. 

_Hen_. And there Ile answer it. 

_Fer_. There, if you prove the Rape, he shalbe forcdEyther to satisfy you by marriageOr else to loose his periurd head. 

_Hen_. I am content. And instantly I will away to _Sherrys_, There to appeale to the high Court of Justice:'Tis time, I thinke, such slanderous accusationsAssayling me; but there I shalbe righted. 

_Fer_. You shall not need to doubt it:--come, _Eleonora_. 

 [_Exeunt_. [30]

_Hen_. What will become of me in this, I know not:I have a shrewd guese though of the worst. Would one have thought the foolish ape would puttThe finger in the eye & tell it daddy!'Tis a rare guift 'mong many maides of these dayes;If she speed well she'le bring it to a Custome, Make her example followed to the spoyleOf much good sport: but I meane to looke to't. Now, sir, your newes?

 _Enter Buzzano_. 

_Buz_. The most delicious, rare, absolute newes that ere came outof _France_, sir!

_Hen_. What's done there? have they forsaken the Divell & all hisfashions? banishd their Taylors & Tyrewomen?

_Buz_. You had a father & a Brother there; & can you first thinke uponthe Divell & his Limetwiggs. 

_Hen_. Had, _Buzzano_? had a father & a Brother there? have I not so, still, _Buzzano_?

_Buz_. No, sir, your Elder Brother is--

_Hen_. What? speake, _Buzzano_: I imagine, dead. 

_Buz_. Nay, you shall give me something by your leave; you shall pay thepoast:--good newes for nothing?

_Hen_. Here, here, _Buzzano_; speake quickly, crowne me with thefelicity of a younger brother: is he dead, man?

_Buz_. No, he's come home very well, sir; doe you thinke I goe on deadmen's errands. 

_Hen_. Pox on the Buzzard! how he startled my bloud!

_Buz_. But he is very weary & very pensive, sir; talkes not at all, but calls for his bed;--pray God your Father be not dead!--and desireswhen you come in to have you his Bedfellow, for he hath private speechwith ye. 

_Hen_, Well, sir, you that are so apt to take money for newes, bewarehow you reflect one word, sillable or thought concerning _Eleonora_:you knowe what I meane?

_Bus_. Yes, & meane what you know, sir. 

_Hen_. What's that?

_Buz_. Ile keepe your Counsaile

_Hen_. My life goes for it else. 

 {_Exeunt_. 

_Actus Quartus_. 

(SCENE 1. )

 _Enter Henrico (as newly risen)_. 

_Hen_. _Buzzano_! slave! _Buzzano_!

 _Enter Buzzano with Cloake & Rapier_. 

_Buz_. Signior, what a buzzing you make, as if you were a fly atBartholomew-tyde at a Butchers stall: doe you think I am deafe?

_Hen_. No, but blind; do'st sleepe as thou goest?

_Buz_. No, but I goe as I sleepe, & that's scurvily. 

_Hen_. Call my brother Manuell. 

_Buz_. Brother _Manuell_!

_Hen_. How? pray (goodman rascall) how long have he & you bene Brothers?

_Buz_. I know not; may be ever since we were borne, for your father usedto come home to my mother, & why may not I be a chipp of the same blockeout of which you two were cutt? Mothers are sure of their children, butno man is able to sweare who was his father. 

_Hen_. You are very lusty. 

_Buz_. I eate eringoes[31] and potchd eggs last night. 

_Hen_. Goe & call him. 

_Buz_. What?

_Hen_. You hound, is he up?

_Buz_. No, he's in Bed, and yet he may be up too; Ile goe see. 

_Hen_. Stay, and speake low. --How now?

 [_Buz. Falls downe_. 

_Buz_. I can speake no lower unlesse I creepe into the Cellar. 

_Hen_. I'me glad you are so merry, sir. 

_Buz_. So am I; my heart is a fiddle; the strings are rozend with ioythat my other young Mr. Is come home, & my tongue the sticke that makesthe fiddle squeake. 

_Hen_. Come hither, leave your fooling & tell me truely: didst sleepeto night or no?

_Buz_. Sleepe? Not that I remember: Ile sweare (& my eyes should comeout as 2 witnesses) that I nere slept worse; for what with ycur_Spanish_ flyes (the pocky, stinging musquitoes) & what with your skipJacke fleas, the nap of my sleepe was worne off. 

_Hen_. Didst heare nothing?

_Buz_. Not in my sleepe. 

_Hen_. Collect thy sences; when thou wert awake didst thou hearenothing?

_Buz_. Nothing. 

_Hen_. Twixt 12 & one?

_Buz_. 12 & one? Then was I in my dead sleepe, cursing the fleas. 

_Hen_. Or about one & two. 

_Buz_. That's Three:--Now the Beetle[32] of my head beates it into mymemory that as you & your brother _Manuell_ lay in the high Bed, & Itrondling[33] underneath, I heard one of you talke most stigmatically inhis sleepe--most horriferously. 

_Hen_. Right, now thou com'st to me, --so did I. 

_Buz_. And then once or twice the sleepy voice cryde out, "Oh it was Ithat murthered him! this hand killd him!"

_Hen_. Art sure thou heardst this?

_Buz_. Am I sure these are my eares?

_Hen_. And dar'st thou sweare thou heardst it?

_Buz_. Lay downe 20 oathes, and see if Ile not take them. 

_Hen_. And whose voice was it did appeare to thee?

_Buz_. Whose voice was it? Well said, yong Master! make an asse of yourfathers man!

_Hen_. Come, come, be serious: whose voice?

_Buz_. Whose voice? why then, if your windpipe were slitt now and opend, there should the voice be found. I durst at midnight be sworne that theGhost of your voice appeard before me. 

_Hen_. No; me it frighted too; up stood my haire stiffe & on end. 

_Buz_. As a Catts does at sight of a dog. 

_Hen_. A cold sweat pearld in dropps all ore my body;For 'twas my Brothers voice, & were I calldBefore a thousand Judges I must sweareIt could be no mans els. 

_Buz_. Why, then, I must sweare so, too. 

_Hen_. "Oh it was I that murthered him! this hand killed him!"

[_Within, Man_] _Buzzano_!

_Hen_. He's up. 

[_Man_. ] _Buzzano_!

_Buz_. I come. 

_Hen_. Helpe to make him ready, [34] but not a word on thy life. 

_Buz_. Mum. [_Exit_. 

_Hen_. So let it worke; thus far my wheeles goe true. Because a Captaine, leading up his menIn the proud van, has honour above them, And they his vassailes; must my elder brotherLeave me a slave to the world? & why, forsooth?Because he gott the start in my mother's belly, To be before me there. All younger brothersMust sitt beneath the salt[35] & take what dishesThe elder shoves downe to them. I doe not likeThis kind of service: could I, by this tricke, Of a voice counterfeited & confessingThe murther of my father, trusse up this yonkerAnd so make my selfe heire & a yonger brotherOf him, 'twere a good dayes worke. Wer't not fine angling?Hold line and hook: Ile puzzle him. 

 _Enter Manuell & Buzzano_. 

_Man_. Morrow, brother. 

_Hen_. Oh, good morrow: you have slept soundly. 

_Man_. Travellers that are weary have sleepe led in a string. 

_Buz_. So doe those that are hangd: all that travell & are weary doenot sleepe. 

_Man_. Why, Mr. _Buzzano_, why?

_Buz_. Midwives travell at night & are weary with eating groaningpyes[36], & yet sleepe not: shall I hooke you?

_Man_. Hooke me? what meanst?

_Buz_. These Taylors are the wittyest knaves that live by bread. 

_Hen_. And why witty, out of your wisdome?

_Buz_. In old time gentlemen would call to their men & cry, "Come, trusse me": now the word is "Come, hooke me"; for every body now lookesso narrowly to Taylors bills (some for very anger never paying them)that the needle lance knights, in revenge of those prying eyes, put somany hookes & eyes to every hose & dubblet. 

_Man_. Well, sir, Ile not be hookd then now. 

_Buz_. Tis well if you be not. [_Exit_. 

_Hen_. _France_ is an excellent country. 

_Man_. Oh, a brave one. 

_Hen_. Your Monsieurs gallant sparkes. 

_Man_. Sparkes? oh, sir, all fire, The soule of complement, courtship & fine language;Witty & active; lovers of faire Ladyes, Short naggs & _English_ mastives; proud, fantasticke, Yet such a pride & such fantasticknes, It so becomes them, other Nations(Especially the English) hold themselvesNo perfect gentlemen till frenchifyed. 

_Hen_. Tush, _England_ breeds more apes than _Barbary_. --How chance my father came not home with you?

_Man_. He was too hard tyed by the leg with busines. 

_Hen_. What busines?

_Man_. Tis but stepping into _France_. And he perhaps will tell you. 

_Hen_. Perhaps? tis well:What part of _France_ did you leave him in?

_Man_. What part? why I left him at _Nancy_ in _Lorraine_. No, no, I lye, now I remember me twas at _Chaalons_ in _Burgundy_. 

_Hen_. Hoyda, a most loving childThat knowes not where he left his father, & yetComes but now from him! had you left in _France_Your whore behind you, in your Table bookesYou would have sett downe the streets very name, Yes, and the baudy signe, too. 

_Man_. Hum, you say well, sir. Now you are up to th'eares in Baudery, Pray tell me one thing, Brother; (I am sorryTo putt forth such a question) but speake truly;Have you not in my fathers absence doneA piece of worke (not your best masterpiece)But such an one as on the house of _Guzman_Will plucke a vengeance, & on the good old man(Our noble father) heape such hills of sorrowTo beate him into his grave?

_Hen_. What's this your foolery?

_Man_. Pray heaven it prove soe: have not you defac'dThat sweet & matchles goodnes, _Eleonora_, _Fernando's_ daughter?

_Hen_. How defacd her?

_Man_. Hearke, sir: playd _Tarquin's_ part and ravisht her. 

_Hen_. 'Tis a lye. 

_Man_. I hope so too. 

_Hen_. What villaine speakes it?

_Man_. One with so wide a throat, that uttering it'Twas heard in _France_; a letter, sir, informedMy father so. 

_Hen_. Letter? from whom?

_Man_. A woman. 

_Hen_. She's a whore. 

_Man_. Twas _Eleonora_. 

_Hen_. She's, then, a villanous strumpet so to write, And you an asse, a coxcomb to beleeve it. 

_Man_. Nettled? then let me tell you that I feareI shall for ever blush when in my hearingAny names _Henrico Guzman_ for my brother. In right of vertue & a womans honour(This deare wrongd Ladies) I dare call thee Villaine. 

_Hen_. Villaine!

 _They fight: Enter Ferdinand and attendants_. 

_Fer_. Part them, part them!

_Hen_. Let me see his heartPanting upon my weapons point; then part us. Oh, pray, forbeare the roome. 

_Fer_. Fy, Fy! two Brothers. Two Eaglets of one noble Aery, Pecke out each others eyes!--Welcome from _France_!How does your honourd father?

_Man_. Well, my Lord:I left him late in Paris. 

_Hen_. So, so; in _Paris_!Hath he 3 bodyes? _Lorraine, Burgundy, & Paris_!My Lord, his Highnes putts into your handA sword of Justice: draw it forth, I charge youBy the oath made to your king, to smite this Traytour, The murtherer of my father!

_Man_. I?

_Hen_. Yes, thou:Thou, slave, hast bene his Executioner. 

_Man_. Where? when?

_Hen_. There, there; in _France_. 

_Man_. Oh heavenly powers!

_Hen_. Oh, intollerable villaine! parricide!Monster of mankind! _Spaniards_ shame!

_Fer_. Pray, heare me:Are you in earnest?

_Hen_. Earnest?

_Fer_. Be advisd. 

_Hen_. Lay hold on him, the murtherer of my father:I have armd proofes against him. 

_Man_. An armd devill, And that's thy selfe! Produce thy proofes. 

_Hen_. I will, sir;But I will doe't by law. 

_Fer_. You are up allreadyToo deepe, I feare, in Law. 

_Hen_. If you can, sett thenYour foote upon my head & drowne me, your worst:Let me have Justice here. 

_Fer_. Well, sir, you shall. _Manuell_, I can no lesse than lay upon youThe hand of my authority. In my Caroach[37]You shall with mee to _Sherris_, 3 leagues off, Where the Lords sitt to-morrow: there you must answerThis most unbrotherly accusation. 

_Man_. And prove him a false caytiffe. 

_Fer_. I will be both your guard, sir, and your bayleAnd make no doubt to free you from this Viper. 

_Hen_. Viper!

_Fer_. Y'are bound to appeare at _Sherris_, sir;And you were best not fayle. I have a certaine Daughter there shall meete you. Come. 

 [_Exit Fer. , Man. , &_[38]

_Hen_. Thither I dare you both, all three. --_Buzzano_!

_Buz_. Sir?

_Hen_. Saddle my Jennet? Ile to _Sherris_ presently. 

_Buz_. And I?

_Hen_. And you; but I must schoole you, sirra. 

 [_Exeunt_. 

(SCENE 2. )

 _Enter Pike, shackled, & his Jaylour_. 

_Jay_. Boon Coragio, man! how is't?

_Pike_. Not very well & yet well enough, considering how the cheatingdice of the world run. 

_Jay_. I dare not, though I have a care of you, ease you of one Ironunles I desire such Gyves my selfe. 

_Pike_. Las, if they were all knockt off I'me loaden with Gyves, Shackles, and fetters enough for the arrantest theefe that ever lay inmy owne country in Newgate. 

_Jay_. Shackles, gyves, and fetters enough! I see none but these at yourheeles, which come on without a shoeing horne. 

_Pike_. Yes, at my heart I weare them--a wife & children (my pooreLambes at home); there's a chaine of sighes and sobbes and sorrow, harder then any Iron; and this chaine is so long it reaches from_Sherrys_ to _Tavestock_ in _Devonshire_. 

_Jay_. That's farre enough in Conscience. 

_Pike_. Could I shake those Chaines off I would cutt Capers: poore_Dick Pike_ would dance though Death pip'd to him; yes, and spitt inyour Hangman's face. 

_Jay_. Not too much of that nayther: some 2 dayes hence he will give youa choake peare[39] will spoyle your spitting. 

_Pike_. Pheu!

_Jay_. For, let me see, to-day is Sunday; to-morrow the Lords sitt, andthen I must have a care--a cruell care--to have your leggs handsome anda new cleane ruff band about your necke, of old rusty iron; 'twill purgeyour choller. 

_Pike_. I, I, let it, let it: Collers, halters, & hangmen are to mebracelets and frendly companions. 

 [_Knocking-within_. 

_Jay_. So hasty? stay my leasure. --(_Enter 2 fryers_)Two fryers come to prepare you. [_Exit_. 

I. Hayle, Countryman! for we, though fryers in _Spaine_, Were born in _Ireland_. 

_Pike_. Reverend sir, y'are welcome:Too few such visitants, nay none at all, Have I seen in this damnable Limbo. 

2. Brother, take heed; doe not misuse that wordOf Limbo. [40]

1. Brother _Pike_, for so we heare, Men call you, we are come in pure devotionAnd charity to your soule, being thereto boundBy holy orders of our mother Church. 

_Pike_. What to doe, pray, with me?[41]

1. To point with our fingersOut all such rockes, shelves, quicksands, gulfes, & shallowesLying in the sea through which you are to passeIn the most dangerous voyage you ere made:Eyther by our care to sett you safe on land, Or, if you fly from us your heavenly pilotts, Sure to be wrackt for ever. 

_Pike_. What must I doe?

2. Confesse to one of us what rancke and foule impostumesHave bred about your soule. 

1. What LeprosiesHave run ore all your Conscience. 

2. What hott feaversNow shake your peace of mind. 

1. For we are comeTo cure your old Corruptions. 

2. We are comeTo be your true and free Physitians. 

1. Without the hope of gold, to give you health. 

2. To sett you on your feete on the right way. 

1. To _Palestine_, the _New Jerusalem_. 

2. Say;Will you unlocke the closet of your heartTo one of us? chuse which, & be absolvdFor all your blacke Crimes on a free confession?

1. To him or me, for you must dye to morrow. 

_Pike_. Welcome!To morrow shall I be in another country, Where are no Examiners, nor Jayles, Nor bolts, nor barres, nor irons. I beseech youGive me a little respite to retireInto the next roome, & I will instantlyReturne to give you satisfaction. [_Exit_. 

_Ambo_. Goe, brother. 

1. A goodly man!

2. Well limbd & strong of heart. 

1. Now I well view his face did not we twoAt our last being in _Plymouth_ in disguise, When there the King of _England_ rode aboutTo see the soldiers in their musteringsAnd what their armes were, just before this fleetSett out, did we not see him there?

2. May be we did; I know not; if he were there 'tis now out of mymemory. 

 _Enter Pike_. 

1. Are you resolvd?

_Pike_. Yes. 

2. To confesse?

_Pike_. I ha' don't already. 

1. To whom?

_Pike_. To one who is in better placeAnd greater power then you to cure my sickeInfected part, though maladies as infiniteAs the sea sands, the grassy spears on earth, Or as the dropps of raine & stars in the firmamentStucke on me he can cleare all, cleanse me throughly. 

2. You will not then confesse?

_Pike_. No, I confesse I will not. 

1. We are sorry for you;For Countryes sake this Counsaile do I give you:When y'are before the Lords rule well your tongue, Be wary how you answer, least they tripp you;For they know the whole number of your shipps, Burthen, men & munition, as wellAs you in _England_. 

_Pike_. I thanke you both. 

2. Prepare to dye. [_Exeunt Fryers_. 

_Pike_. I will so. --Prepare to dye! An excellent bell & it soundssweetly. He that prepares to dye rigges a goodly ship; he that is wellprepard is ready to launch forth; he that prepares well & dyes well, arrives at a happy haven. Prepare to dye! preparation is the sauce, death the meate, my soule & body the guests; & to this feast will I goe, boldly as a man, humbly as a Christian, & bravely as an _Englishman_. Ohmy Children, my Children! my poore Wife & Children!

 _Enter Jaylour, & 3 Spanish Picaroes chayned_. 

_Jay_. Here's a chearefull morning towards, my brave blouds!

1. Yes, Jaylor, if thou wert to be hangd in one of our roomes. 

_Jay_. On, on; the Lords will sitt presently. 

2. What's hee?

_Jay_. An _Englishman_. 

3. A dog!

1. A divell!

2. Let's beate out his braines with our Irons. 

_Jay_. On, on; leave rayling, cursing & lying: had you not run from theCastle the hangman & you had bene "hayle fellow! well met:" On!

_All_. Crowes pecke thy eyes out, _English_ dog, curre, toad, hellhound! [_Exeunt_. 

_Pike_. Patience is a good armour, humility a strong headpiece, wouldI had you all three, I know where. 

 _Enter Bustamente shackled, & Jaylor_. 

_Bust_. Whither dost lead me?

_Jay_. To a roome by your selfe: 'tis my office to have a care of mynurse children. 

_Bust_. I have worne better _Spanish_ gaiters: thus rewarded for myservice!

_Jay_. See, Capt. _Bustamente_; doe you know this fellow?

_Bust_. No. 

_Jay_. The Englishman brought prisoner into the Citty, & from thencehither. 

_Pike_. Oh, Captaine, I saw you at the fort performe the part of a man. 

_Bust_. And now thou seest me acting the part of a slave. Farewell, soldier. I did not hate thee at the first, though there we mett enemyes;and if thou & I take our leaves at the Gallowes, prithee letts partfriends. [_A Table out, sword & papers[42]

_Jay_. Come along, you two. 

_Pike_. Hand in hand, if the Captaine please: noble _Bustamente_, at the winning of the fort we had a brave breakfast. 

_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 fugitivesWhich basely left the fort should not be honourdWith 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 endthe busines. 

_Gyr_. Bring _Bustamente_ in. [_Exit Jaylour_. 

_Mac_. My Lords, here's _Don Fernando_ relates to meTwo stories full of wonder; one of his daughter, Fam'd for her vertues, faire _Eleonora_, Accusing _Don Henrico_, youngest sonneTo noble _Pedro Guzman_, of a rape;Another of the same _Henrico's_, chargingHis elder brother _Manuell_ with the murtherOf _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 abideLonger imprisonment. 

_Bust_. I have allready quittedMy 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 rendringThat fort up then our Nation gott from themIn 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 voiceTo charge you with a Rape; the wronged DaughterOf this most noble Gentleman. 

_Hen_. Let them prove that

_Mac_. These accusations & the proofes shall meeteHere face to face, in th' afternoone. MeantimePray, _Don Fernando_, let it be your careTo see these gentlemen attended onBy a strong guard. 

_Fer_. The wrongs done to my selfeWork 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 haveA soldier's honour; bring him from his prisonFull 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'sthe _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 HusbandHas drawne him to this misery, to whomThe soldier gave life being at his mercy. 

_Gent_. Twas bravely done, no doubt he'le speed the betterFor 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'eventHow 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 youTo give this brave attendance; though your NationFought us & came to hunt us to our deathes. 

_Pike_. My Lords, this, which in shew is brave attendanceAnd 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, itWas once mine; and drawes teares from me to thinkHow 'twas forced from me. 

_Mac_. How many _Spanyards_Killd you with that sword?

_Pike_. Had I killd oneThis Barre had nere bene guilty of my pleadingBefore 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 torneInto a thousand pieces. 

_Lady_. My Husband speaks untruth. 

_Alq_. Sett he on you first? more coward you to suffer an enemy beaforehand. 

_Pike_. Indeed in _England_ my countrymen are good at bidding stand; butI was not now upon a robbery but a defence, sett round with a thousanddangers. He sett upon me; I had him at my feete, sav'd him, and for mylabour was after basely hurt by him. 

_Fer_. This was examined by me, my Lords;And _Don John_, thus accusd, was much ashamdOf 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 highOne 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 GenerallMight easily have tane it, for he hadAlmost a thousand scaling ladders to sett up;And without mayme to's army he might looseA thousand men: but he was loath to robbAn almes-house when he had a richer marketTo buy a conquest in. 

_Mac_. What was that market?

_Pike_. _Genoa or Lisbon_: wherefore should we ventureOur lives to catch the wind, or to gett knockesAnd 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 somewhatbold 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 proveSuch hens as are your _English_, when next yeareThey 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 fightWith any one of these our _Spanish_ pulletts?

_Pike_. What heart have I to fight when tis beaten flattTo earth with sad afflictions? can a prisonerGlory in playing the Fencer? my life's at stakeAllready; can I putt it in for more?Our army was some 14000 menOf which more than 12000 had spirits so highMine never shall come neere them: would some of themWere here to feed your expectations!Yet, silly as I am, having faire pardonFrom all your Graces and your Greatnesses, Ile try if I have strength in this chayned armeTo breake a rapier. 

_Mac_. Knock off all his gyves;And he that has a stomacke for _Spaines_ honourTo 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 feeteI lay my winnings. 

_Tia_. Diable!

 [_Exit, biting his thumb[44]; the soldiers stampe_. 

_Gyr_. Wilt venter on oanother?

_Pike_. I beseech youTo 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 himThere'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 piecesTo please such brave spectators; yes Ile fightWhile I can stand, be you but pleasd, my Lords, The noble Dukes here, to allow me choiceOf 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 themWith 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 cuttHis throat for all the Jaylors care of him. 

_Mac_. Make proclamation, my lord _Fernando_, That who soever dares but touch his fingerTo 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 weareA _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 kneesYour 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 herThen yeild to suffer death? know you the law?

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

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

_Hen_. Hangd, hangd by any meanes! marry her? had IThe King of _Spaines_ 7 Kingdomes, _Gallicia, Navarre_, the 2 _Castiles, Leon, Arragon, Valentia, Granada_, And _Portugall_ to make up 8, Ide lose themAll to be rid of such a piece of flesh. 

_Ten_. How? such a piece of flesh? Why, she has limbesMad out of wax. [49]

_Hen_. Then have her to some faireAnd 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; andbecause 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 feltA touch lascivious; whose eyes are ballsNot tossd by her to any but to me;Whose breath stinkes not of sweatmeates; whose lippes kisseOnely themselves and mine; whose tongue nere layAt 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 trueBut when she steares the rudder. I'de not haveHer belly a drum, such as they weave points on, Unles they be taggd with vertue; nor would I haveHer white round breasts 2 sucking bottles to nurseAny Bastards at them. 

_Ten_. I believe you would not. 

_Hen_. I would not have her tall, because I love notTo 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 meTo see whoremasters teeth water at her, Red haird by no meanes, though she would yeild moneyTo 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 soeverI 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 BarreAnd opposite, face to face: a ConfrontationMay perhaps daunt th'offender & draw from himMore then he'de utter. You accuse your BrotherAs 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 sleepeThus 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 allThe shott you make against him your bullets stickIn a mud wall, or if they meete resistanceThey 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 himTo make this good upon him: that at comming homeHe first told me my father dyed in France, Then some hours after that he was not deadBut that he left him in _Lorraine_ at _Nancy_, Then at _Chaalons_ in _Burgundy_, & lastlyHe 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 handAnd, falling on his knees, with a pale faceAnd 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 murthererFor 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 IAnd my white Innocence may tread the pathBeaten 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 CourageFiery as his can be, and with a causeThat spitts his accusation full in the face. 

_Mac_. The combate in this case cannot be granted, And here's the reason: when a man accusesA frend, much more a brother, for a factSo foule as murther (murther of a father), The Law leapes straight way to the ChallengerTo take his part. Say he that doth accuseShould be decrepitt, lame and weake, or sickly, The other strong and lusty; thinke you a kingdomeWill hazard so a subject, when the quarrellIs for a kingdomes right? If y'are so valiantYou then must call the law into the fieldBut 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 LawFastens on you; for any man accusdFor killing of his father may be rackdTo 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 murthererBoth 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 meThe 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 fameAnd 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 nereWould marry her; & soe she workes this mischiefe. 

_Gyr_. You here stand chargd for ravishing her, & youMust 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 BondOf marriage, which you seald to, & I free youAnd 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 confesseThis 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 TreeThen thus be torne in pieces. Canst thou see meeThus 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 meTo 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 itA guilt it knowes not. Ile not so dishonourMy father, nor my ancestours before me, Nor my posterity with such an earthquakeTo 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 heardher cry out "helpe! helpe!" & the Gamboll being ended she came in likea mad woman, ruffled & crumpled, her haire about her eares; & he allunbrac'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 kneeBeg pardon of that goodnes, that pure TempleWhich my base lust prophand, & will make goodMy wrongs to her by marriage. 

_Mac_. What say you, Lady?

_Ele_. He spurnd my mercy when it flew to himAnd courted him to kisse it; therefore nowIle have his life. 

_Fer_. That life, so had, redeemesThine & 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 & softenHer 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 stillalive, --see, see!

_Mac_. Let us descend to meet a happinesseCrownes all our expectations. 

_Pedro_. Whilst I meetA Thunder strikes me dead. Oh, poore, wrongd Lady, The poyson which the villaine poures on thy honourRuns more into my veines then all the VenomeHe spitts at me or my deare Boy, his brother. My Lords, your pardon that I am transportedWith 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 RavisherYou would have savd him, then you made your choyceTo marry him: will you then kill your husband?

_Ele_. Why did that husband then rather chuse deathThen 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 himselfeCutts off, by these his royall letters sentUpon the wings of speed to all your Graces. He lay one night since at your house, my LordWhere, by your noble Wife, he had a wellcomeFitting 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 referresHimselfe to us about you. 

_Pike_. Againe, I stand heereTo lay my own life downe, please his high MaiestyTo take it: for what's lost his fate to fallWas _fortune de la guerre_, & at the feeteOf his most royal Maiesty & at yours(My Princely Lords & Judges) low as th'earthI throw my wretched selfe & begg his mercy. 

_Mac_. Stand up; that mercy which you aske is signdBy 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 hitherYet he holds out to you his Enemy2 friendly proffers: serve him in his dominionsEyther by land or sea, & thou shalt liveUpon a golden pension, such a harvestAs thou nere reapst in _England_. 

_Pike_. His kingly favoursSwell up in such high heapes above my merit, Could I reare up a thousand lives, they cannotReach 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 moreSee my owne Country Chimneys cast out smoake. I owe my life and service to the King, (The king of _England_) let me pay that BondOf my allegeance; &, that being payd, There is another obligation, One to a woefull Wife & wretched ChildrenMade wretched by my misery. I therefore beg, Intreat, emplore, submissively hold up my handsTo 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 youA hundred pistoletts to beare you home. 

_Pike_. A royall bounty, which my memoryShall never loose; no, nor these noble favoursWhich 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, magnificentMarquezza! the great Turke cannot tast better meat then I have eatenat this ladies Table. 

_Alq_. So, so. 

_Pike_. And for a lodging, if the curtaines about my bed had bene cuttof 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 prettythings for my Children, given me by your honourd Lady would else cryout on me. There's a _Spanish_ shirt, richly lacd & seemd, her guifttoo; & whosoever layes a foul hand upon her linnen in scorne of herbounty, 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 islong, 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 livesCannot be too soone shortned; therefore these LordsHold 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 accountsAnd sent, we hope, our debts up into heaven. 

_Fer_. Our sorrowes & our sighes fly after them. 

_Ped_. Then your confession of the murther standsAs you your selfe did sett it downe?

_Man_. It does;But on my knees I beg this marginall noteMay sticke upon the paper; that no guilt, But feare of Tortures frighted me to takeThat horrid sin upon me. I am as innocentAnd free as are the starres from plotting treasonGainst their first mover. 

_Pedro_. I was then in _France_When of your fathers murther the reportDid fill all _Paris_. 

_Man_. Such a reverend habitShould not give harbour to so blacke a falshood. 

_Hen_. Tis blacke, & of my dying; for 'twas ITo 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 whiteAnd cleare from murther as this holy manFrom killing mee. 

_Pedro_. No [know], there's a thing about meShall strike thee into dust & make thy tongueWith trembling to proclayme thyselfe a VillaineMore then thou yet hast done:--See, tis my Eye. 

_Hen_. Oh, I am confounded! [_Falls_. 

_Man_. But I comfortedWith the most heavenly apparitionOf my deare honourd father. 

_Fer_. Take thou comfortBy two more apparitions, of a fatherAnd 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 himMy heart to give him new life. 

_Fer_. Rise, my _Henrico_!

_Mac_. Rise & receive a noble minded wifeWorth 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 hadthe patience to read the Plays of Henry Glapthorne cannot fail to beamused by the bland persistence with which certain passages arereproduced in one play after another. Glapthorne's stock of fancies wasnot very extensive, but he puts himself to considerable pains to makethe most of them. In _The Lady Mother_ we find the same ornaments spreadout before us, many of them very tawdry at their best. Glapthorne'seditor has striven to show that the weak-kneed playwright was afellow-pupil of John Milton's at St. Paul's. One cannot think of the twonames 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 dramaticpower, but he writes occasionally with tenderness and feeling. In hispoetical garden rank weeds choke up the flower-beds; but still, if wehave patience to pursue the quest, we may pick here and there amusk-rose or a violet that retains its fragrance. He seems to have takenShirley as his master; but desire in the pupil's case outranperformance. It is, indeed, a pitiful fall from the _Grateful Servant_, a honey-sweet old play, fresh as an idyl of Theocritus, to the paltryfaded graces of the _Lady's Privilege_. 

A note at the end of _The Lady Mother_ in the hand-writing of WilliamBlagrave, acting for the Master of the Revels, shows that the play waslicensed in October, 1635. From a passage in II. , 1, it would seem tohave been produced at the Salisbury Court Theatre in Whitefriars. In thesame year Glapthorne's comedy of the _Hollander_, according to thetitle-page, was being acted at the Cockpit, Drury Lane. His other pieceswere produced rather later. I am inclined to think that _The LadyMother_, in spite of the wild improbability of the plot and the poornessof much of the comic parts, is our author's best work. In such lines asthe 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 hismistress while his hair is being trimmed by his servant before the glass, puts by the importunity of his scatter-brain'd nephew and the blusteringcaptain, who vainly endeavour to bring him to the point and make himdisburse. On the whole I am confident that _The Lady Mother_ will befound 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 doesDally with her affection: I admire itt. 

_Bon_. Shee and her daughtersCreated were for admiration only, And did my Mistress and her sister notObscure their mothers luster fancy could notAdmitt a fuller bewty. 

_Tho_. Tis easier to expresseWhere nimble winds lodge, ore investigateAn eagles passage through the agill ayreThen to invent a paraphrase to expresseHow much true virtue is indebted to theirUnparaleld perfections. 

_Bon_. Nay[56], but shall I not be acquainted with your designe? when wemust marry, faith to save charges of two wedding dinners, lets cast sothat one day may yeild us bridegroome, --I to the daughter and thou tothe mother. 

_Tho_. She falls offWith such a soddaine ambiguitie, From the strong heate of her profesd[57] loveThat I conceive she intends a regular proofeOf my untainted Faith. 

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

_Bon_. But cannot all your fluent witt interpretWhy she procastinatts your promisd match?By this light, her daughter would be married tomorrowIf her mother and I had concluded on the Joynture. 

_Tho_. The most evident reason she will give me of this unwellcomeprotraccon is she has some new employment to put on me, which performdshe 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 thebumbast that goes to the setting forth of a man: his dealing consistsnot much in weight but in the weight of his pressing Iron, under whosetyranny you shall perceave no small shrinking. 

_Tho_. Well said, _Grimes_. On!

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

_Tho_. Excellent _Grimes_ still!

_Grimes_. By his cloathes you might deeme him a knight; but yet if youuncase him, you will find his sattin dublett naught but fore sleaves &brest, the back part buckram; his cloake and cape of two sorts; hisroses and garters of my ladyes old Cypres: to conclude, sir, he is anambodexter or a Jack-of-all-sides & will needs mend that which Naturemade: he takes much upon him since the old Knight dyed, and does fullyintend to run to hell[58] for the lady: he hates all wines and strongdrinks--mary, tis but in publique, for in private he will be drunke, notinker like him. 

_Bon_. Peace, sirrah; observe. 

_Lov_. So, let me see the _summa totalis_ of my sweet ladiesperfections. 

_Grimes_. Good, he has her in whole already. 

_Tho_. Peace, _Grimes_. 

_Lov_. _Imprimis, her faire haire; no silken sleaveCan 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 likethe 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 sinnerBut 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 scoffIs 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 deityIs the magazine of Natures treasury_. --Soe, this made up, will I take an occasion to dropp where she may findit. 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 hereI feare will scare you from us: you're so earlyUp, you do not sleepe well. 

_Tho_. I cannot looke on herBut Ime as violent as a high-wrought seaIn my desires; a fury through my eyesAt 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 incompany, to hold a dialogue with his thoughts. Please you, lady, togive his fever libertie; the fit will soon be overpasd. 

_Tho_. She bears her age well, or she is not spedFar into th'vale of yeares: she has an eyePiercing 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 friendHath falne againe in love; he practisesTo himself new speeches; you and he are notBroke 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 firstsalute. You had best be wary, _Bonvill_; the young cittizen or thesouldier 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 leasureTo hear what I inioyne you?

_Tho_. Your good pleasure. 

_Lady_. What shall I doe? I can no longer beareThis flame so mortall; I have wearid heavenWith my entreaties and shed teares enoughTo extinguish _Aetna_, but, like water castOn coales, they ad unto my former heateA more outragious fervor. I have triedAll modest meanes to give him notice ofMy violent love, but he, more dull then earth, Either conceives them not or else, possessdWith 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 boltHeavens anger darts at the offending world, Can with such horrid rigor peirce the earthAs these sad words I must demonstrate to youDoe my afflicted brest. --Ime lost; my tongueWhen I would speake, like to an IsicleDisturbd by motion of unruly windsShakes to pronounce't, yet freezes to my roofeFaster by th'agitation. 

_Tho_. Your full JudgmentCould not have found an apter instrumentFor the performance of what you designe, Then I experience how much any manMay become passive in obedienceTo the intent of woman, in my truth. Set the abstrusest comment on my faithImagination can resolve, my studyShall mak't as easie as the plainest linesWhich hearty lovers write. 

 _Enter Timothy_. 

_Tim_. Madam, this letter and his humble vowesFrom 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 thereDiscourse the rest. 

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

_Tim_. Your ladiship will vouchsafe to meeteThe 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: apersonage of your rare endowments so dejected! 'tis fitt for groomes, not men magnanimous, to be so bashfull: speake boldly to them, that likecannon shott your breath may batter; you would hardly dare to take intownes and expugne fortresses, that cannot demolish a paltry woman. 

_Crac_. Pox of this Country, it has metamorphisd me. Would I were in mynative Citty ayre agen, within the wholesome smell of seacole: thevapor[s] rising from the lands new dunged are more infectious to me thenthe common sewer ith sicknes time. Ime certaine of my selfe Ime impudentenough and can dissemble as well as ere my Father did to gett hiswealth, but this country has tane my edge of quite; but I begin to soundthe reason of it. 

_Suc_. What may it be imagind. 

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

_Suc_. Pish, tis dificience in your resolution:Suppose your mistress were an enemyYou were to encounter in sterne duell. 

_Crac_. 'Tis well my Enemie is a woman; I should feare else to supposethe meeting. Resolution! how can a man have resolution that drinkesnought 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 Cittytripennies[62]: those that are bewtifull the dew is not so cold. I didbut begg a curtesie of a chambermaide, and she laughd at me! Ile to theCitty againe, that's certaine; where for my angell I can imbracepl[enty]. If I stay here a little longer, for want of exercise I shallforget 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 hayreWhich, like a foreman of a shop, does striveTo be above his fellowes. Pish! this glasseIs falsly silverd, maks me look as grayAs if I were 4 score. 

_Bun_. What does he want of it?

_Sir Geff_. Combe with more circumspection, knave; these perfumesHave a dull odor; there is meale among them, My Mrs. Will not scent them. 

_Crac_. Uncle, my friend, My martiall fellow is deficientIn this ubiquitarie mettall, silver:You must impart. 

_Sir Geff_. This garter is not well tide, fellow: whereWert thou brought up? thou knowest not to tieA rose yet, knave: a little straiter: so, Now, tis indifferent. Who can say that IAm 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 ladythis 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 commonevery vintners boy has it as perfect as his _anon, anon, sir_. Hum, Imust consider on it. 

_Crac_. Nay, but uncle, uncle, shall we have answeare concerning thismony, uncle? You must disburse; that is the souldiers phrase. You seethis man; regard him. 

_Suc_. Death of vallor! I can hold no longer; I shall rise in wrothagainst him. 

_Crac_. Dee heare, Uncle? you must furnish him; he wilbe irefullpresently, and then a whole bagg will not satisfie him; heele eate yourgold 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 meInfinitly. Now to begett an activeComplement that, like a matins sungBy 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 theirDisease: 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 huswifryFor 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 tomanure land; if clay, to make tobacco pipes. 

_Crac_. I meane mony. 

_Sir Geff_. O mony, Nephew: Ide thought youde learnd ith CittyHow to use mony: here we do imploy itTo 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 menof armes. There is a treasurer in the county, Captaine, pays souldierspensions: if any be due to you Ile write my letter, you shall receiveit. 

_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, sinceyou say it, Nephew, he shall have it: how much must it be?

_Suc_. A score of Angells shall satisfie for the confrontment you haveoffred 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 respectToward the gentlewoman you affect. You must learne with here since the cittyCould 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 traduceMy manners to them. What Idiots are wee menTo tender our services to womenWho deride us for our paines!

_Cla_. Why can you great wise men who esteeme us womenBut equall with our parrets or at bestBut a degree above them, prating creaturesDevoid of reason, thinke that when we seeA man whose teeth will scarce permitt his tongueTo say, --(he is soe like December comeA woing to the Spring, with all the ensignesOf youth and bravery as if he meantTo dare his land-lord Death to single rapier)--We have not so much spleene as will engenderA 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 thingsI 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 forgeA 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 lostThe 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 himYour 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 youCollect yourselfe, awake your sleeping Spiritts, Invoake your patience, all thats man about youTo ayd your resolution; for I feareThe newes I bring will like a palsie shakeYour soules indifferenst temper. 

_Bon_. Prethee, what is't which on the soddaine canBe thus disastrous? 'tis beyond my thoughts. 

_Tho_. Nay, slight it not: the dismall ravens noateOr mandrakes screches, to a long-sick manIs not so ominous as the heareing of itWill be to you; 'twill like a frost congealeYour lively heate, --yet it must out, our frendshipForbids concealment. 

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

_Tho_. Your soe admired MistressWho parted from you now, _Belisea_, --

_Bon_. You have don well beforeYour sad relation to repeat that sound;That holy name whose fervor does exciteA fire within mee sacred as the flameThe vestalls offer: see how it ascendsAs if it meant to combat with the sunnFor 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 SaintOught only to be seene, not touchd. 

_Tho_. Yet heare me;Cease your immoderate prayses: I must tell youYou doe adore an Idoll; her black SouleIs tainted as an Apple which the SunnHas kist to putrifaction; she is(Her proper appelation sounds so fouleI quake to speake it) a corrupted peice, A most lascivious prostitute. 

_Bon_. Howes this?Speake it agen, that if the sacrilegeThou'st made gainst vertue be but yet sufficientTo yeild thee dead, the iteration of itMay damne thee past the reach of mearcye. Speake it, While thou hast utterance left; but I conceitA lie soe monstrous cannot chuse but choakeThe vocall powers, or like a canker rottThy tung in the delivery. 

_Tho_. Sir, your rageCannot inforce a recantacion from me:I doe pronounce her light as is a leafeIn withered Autumne shaken from the treesBy the rude winds: noe specld serpent wearesMore 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 urneAnd weepe herself to death againe to saveThee from perdition, 't should not; were there placdTwixt thee and mee a host of blasing starrs, Thus I would through them to thee! [_Draw. 

Tho_. Had I knowneYour passion would have vanquishd reason thus, You should have met your ruine unadvisd;Hugd your destruction; taken what the lustOf other men had left you. But the nameAnd soule of friendship twixt us I had thoughtWould have retain'd this most unmanly rageGainst me, for declaration of a truthBy which you might be ransomed from the armesOf her adulterate honor. 

_Bon_. Yes, kind foole;Perswade an _Indian_ who has newly div'dInto the ocean and obtaind a pearle, To cast it back againe; labour t'induce_Turkes_ to contemne their _Alcoron_ ere you striveTo make me creditt my _Belissia_ false. [_Kneele_. Forgive me, holy love, that I delaySo long to scourge the more than heathnish wrongsOf this iniurious villaine, whome me thinks--Blow him hence to hellWith his contagious slander! yet beforeThou doest fall by me as, if heaven have notLost all its care of Innocence, thou must doe, Tell me what Divell urgd thee to detractFrom virtue thus, for of thy selfe thou couldst not(Unlesse with thee shee hath bin vicious) know itWithout some information: whoes the AuthorOf this prodigious calumnie?

_Tho_. Her mother. 

_Bon_. Ha! her mother?

_Tho_. Yes, she; that certaine Oracle of truth, That pretious mine of honor, which beforeShe would exhaust, or yeild your innocenceA spoyle to vice, chose rather to declareHer daughter's folly; and with powerfull tearesBesought me, by the love I bore to goodnes, Which in her estimation had a roomeHigher than Nature, to reveale it to youAnd disingage you from her. 

Bon. Soe, rest there, [_Put up_. Ere thou beest drawne were the whole sex reducedTo one, left only to preserve earths store, In the defence of women; who, [67] but thatThe mothers virtues stands betweene heavens JusticeWould for the daughters unexampled sinneBe by some soddaine Judgment swept from earthAs creatures too infectious. Gentle freind, An humor, heavy as my soule was steep'dIn _Lethe_, seases on me and I feareMy passion will inforce me to transgresseManhood; I would not have thee see me weepe;I prethee leave mee, solitude will suiteBest 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 upAnd have bin with us. My sister has hadThe 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 whereIn the whole world to find an honest woman. 

_Bel_. An excellent meditation! What doe you take me for, my Motherand 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 perishfor want of physick. [_Kiss him_. 

_Bon_. She kisses as sheed wont; were she unchast, Surely her breath would like a _Stigian_ mistOr some contagious vapor blast me; but'Tis sweet as _Indian_ balme, and from her lipsDistills[68] a moisture pretious as the DewThe amorous bounty of the wholesome morneThrowes on rose buds; her cheeks are fresh and pureAs the chast ayre that circumscribes them, yetTheres that within her renders her as fouleAs the deformed'st _Ethiope_. 

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

_Bon_. To admireThat such a goodly building as this sameShould have such vild stuff in itt. 

_Bel_. What meanes this language?

_Bon_. Nothing, but only to informe you whatYou know to well alreadie: _Belisia_, you are--(I cannot call her whore)--a perjurd woman. 

_Bel_. Defend me innocence! I scarce rememberThat ever I made oath and therefore wonderHow I should breake on. 

_Bon_. Have you not with imprecations beg'dHeavens vengeance if you ere lovd man but me?

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

_Bon_. I believe thee;The divell sometimes speaks truth. Intemperate woman, Thoust made that name a terme convertibleWith fury, otherwise I should call thee soe, How durst thou with this impudence abuseMy honest faith? did I appeare a guestSo infinitly worthles that you thoughtThe fragments of thy honour good enoughTo sate my appetite, what other menHad with unhallowd hands prophaind? O woman, Once I had lockd in thy deceiving brestA treasure wealthier then the _Indies_ bothCan in their glory boast, my faithfull heart, Which I do justly ravish back from itSince thou art turnd a strumpet. 

_Bel_. Doe you thinkeI am what you have term'd me?

_Bon_. Doe I thinkeWhen I behold the wanton Sparrows changeTheir chirps to billing, they are chast? or seeThe Reeking Goate over the mountaine topPursue his Female, yet conceit him freeFrom wild concupiscence? I prithee tell me, Does not the genius of thy honor deadHaunt thee with apparitions like a goastOf one thou'dst murdrd? dost not often comeTo thy bed-side and like a fairy pinchThy prostituted limbs, then laughing tell thee'Tis in revenge for myriads of black torturesThy lust inflicted on it?

_Bel_. Have you don?Give me a little leave then ere my greifeSurround my reason. Witnes, gratious heaven, Who, were you not offended at some sinnI have unwittingly comitted, wouldSend sacred innocence it selfe to pleadeHow much 'tis iniurd in me, that with zealeAbove the love of mothers I have tendredThis misinformd man. Ile not aske the authorsOf this report, I doe forgive them; mayA happier fate direct you to some otherMay love you better; and my fate conferrOn me with speed some sudden sepulcher. [_Exit_. 

_Bon_. I shall grow childish, too; my passions striveFor 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 soelecture us before my ladie for drinking ... At midnight, has gott thekey of the wine C[ellar from] _Timothie_ the Butler and is gon downeto 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 isretyringe 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 Stewardand to be druncke in publicke, I say and I sayt, were to give illexamples. Goe to, I, and goe to; tis good to be merry and wise; an inchin 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 forgetthat ere he was clerke[71]. My lady has got a cast of her eye since shetooke a survey of my good parts. Goe to and goe to, for I say and Isayt, they are signes of a rising; flesh is frayle and women are butwomen, more then men but men. I am puft up like a bladder, sweld withthe wind[72] of love; for go to and go to, I say and I sayt, this loveis a greife, and greife a sorrowe, and sorrows dry. Therefore comeforth, thou bottle of affection[73]; I create thee my companion, andthou, cup, shalt be my freind. Why, so now, --goe to and goe to: letshave a health to our Mrss, and first to myne; sweet companion, fill tomy kind freind; by thy leave, freind, Ile begin to my companion: healthto my Mrs! Soe, now my hands in: companion, fill, and heres a health tomy freinds Mrs. Very good, and now I will conclude with yours, my dearecompanion: 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; thoualwayes lookst on me like a dry rascall; give him his liquor; and soewith my Mrs I conclude. What say you, Companion? ha, do you compareyour Mrs with myne? howes that? such another word and thou darst, Sirrah! off with your Capp and doe her Reverence! wilt tell me soe? goeto, I say and I sayt; Ile make better languadge come out of that mouthof thine, thou wicked Carkasse. Freind, heres to thee:[75] Ile shakethee, thou empty Rascall, to peeces, and as _Hector_ drew _Achilles_bout the walls of Troy at his horse tayle, so shalt thou at a doggstayle 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 topurpose. Oh, would you whisper with me? umh, umh, umh, away, Ile heareno 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 wholelegion; 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 tiswell keepe of push of pike yet peirce like shott of Cannon: a Cup ofthis upon an onslaught, Captain?

_Suc_. Is beveredge for a Generall: I doe use to drinke it when I amengagd against a squadron or a whole company. 

_Grimes_. He meanes of drunkards. 

 [_Lovell grunts_. 

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

_Grimes_. Soe, soe, now softely letts to him: ha, alreadie[80] deaddrunke, as I am vertuous. Assist me gent[lemen]; _Timothy_, hast thouthy 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, tobind it up?

_Suc_. Some blood, my sonn of _Mercury_, were neceseary for consummationof the jest. 

_Crac_. And here, _Grimes_, ty this cloath about his head: oh, for someblood!

_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; noboyes play. 

_Suc_. So, so; now set him in the chaires. Hart of valour! he looks likea 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 youthat sings, but do not squeake like a _French_ Organ-pipe nor make facesas 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 soulesthat grace our Cittie Theaters, though in their noats they come as shortof 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 coppieof it. 

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

_Mus_. By no meanes; the author has sworne to the contrary, least itshould 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 twereexcellent. 

_Suc_. Great _Alexander_, does not dreame of this, I warrant yee. 

_Grimes_. Oh, hees fast enough; heele be ready to cast up his accountsthe 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'sbeleife, 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 youdaunce?

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

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

_Mus_. Anything to please you, noble Captaine. 

_Suc_. Lively then, my hearts; some country Jigg or soe. Oh those playesthat 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 minikinas 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 mesee, halfe a peece or--

_Mus_. Blesse your Captaineship. 

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

_Mus_. How, sir, how?

_Suc_. Ever, ever, whilst you live, _Jarvice_;[87] the dauncers alwayespayes 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! Butstay, lets play to the steward; it may be when he wakes we may workehim 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 theayre? I can perceave nothing. Where is my kinde friend and my finecompanion? come, we will be friends again; goe to, we will. Umh, plaistered and bound up? bloody? how comes this? goe too and goe to; ifI have done any mischiefe or bene over valiant in my drinke to kill aman or soe, why 'twas in my drinke, not I, and let my drinke be hangdfor't; or, I say and I sayt, let um stay till I am drunke againe andthen 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 noother; and that and a wench (for theres the divell out) made um cuffeten yeares together, till at length when they had bled more than theycoulde drinke they grew sober, the contented Cuckold tooke his wife homeagaine and all were good frends[89]. [_Sease Musicke_] But stay, themusikes husht; I hope theyle appeare; I doe feale no such paine in mywounds that I had need of musicke to bring me to sleepe. Blesse me whosethis? ha[90]!

 _Enter Grimes disguised_. 

_Grimes_. How does your worshipp? Mr. Steward, dee feele your selfe atease? 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 youfind 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 tomuch. 

_Lov_. Hang Cupps, my friend excepted; goe to; speake plaine; I wasdrunke 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 goodas 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 herkeepe 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 mighthave 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 pottssufferd without measure; nay, you swore (and for it paid your twelvepence) that if you were maior youd come disguisd on purpose toconfou[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 toa some and you would pay him in totall. So, sir, with the spit in yourhand away you runn, and we after yee, where you met with a roaringCaptain. 

_Lov_. Ha, now, now comes the misfortune. 

_Grimes_. Then you stopt and stood a while waving to and froe, as insuspense; at length you fell, with a forward thrust, quite through hisheart. 

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

_Grimes_. No sir, twas through a silver heart he weares in memory ofhis Mrs. 

_Lov_. Ime glad of that: thou strukst me through the heart with thynewes. 

_Grimes_. You being downe, on fell the Captain like a tyrannicall_Dutch_ man of war that shewes no mercy to the yeelding enemy, and erewe could bring succor gave you these wounds, which being dark we broughtyou home as privately as possible, sett you to sleepe and here staydtill 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 foryou--and be but sylent in't. 

_Grimes_. As is my instrument, Sir. Coods me! what, have they torne awaythe 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 yourCompanie shall play at my ladyes wedding. I say no more, goe to; I loveyou 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. Ican 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, goodSteward. [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 youwish then me for husband? I have it here thats sattisfaction for thelustiest widdow twixt this and London. Say, will you love me? Ime inhast and hate demurrs; if you refuse I must seeke out: I have a littlemoysture and would be loth to hav't dride for want of exercise. --Whatsay you, lady?

_Lady_. Sir, for your love I thanke you; for your wealthI want it not; but yet I doe not findA disposicon in my selfe to marriage. 

_Sir Geff_. That will not serve my turne; I am no knightWho weares the spurr of honour without RowellsTo prick a woman forwards: I ride postTo Marriage and resolve at the next stageTo take my Inn up. You have hereTwo 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 importanceWishes a little privacy with you. 

_Lady_. With me, sweet Mr. _Bonvill? Sir Geffrey_, Pray you vouchsafe your absence; at more leasureWe 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 feareTheir repercussive Eccho should declare itTo 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 beIn reason comprehensible a motherShould for a stranger blurr her daughters fame, Were it untruth. I am confirmd; this favorTranscends requitall: if a man misledBy error gainst the diety, gross enoughFor his damnation, owe a gratitudeTo his converter, I am engag'd to youFor my delivery from her. 

_Lady_. 'Twas no moreThen what my honor obligd meAnd my respect to vertue, which in youI should have murdred by my silence; butI have not greife enough left to lamentThe memory of her folly: I am growneBarren of teares by weeping; but the springIs not yet quite exhausted. [_Weeps_. 

_Bon_. Keepe your tearesLest the full clouds, ambitious that their dropsShould mix with yours, unteeme their big wombd lapsAnd rayse a suddeine deluge. Gratious madam, The oftner you reherse her losse the moreYou intimate the gaine I have acquirdBy your free bounty, which to me appearesSo farr transcending possibilityOf satisfaction that, unles you takeMy selfe for payment, I can nere dischargeA debt so waytie. 

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

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

_Lady_. Are you serious?

_Bon_. No scrupulous penitent, timerous that each thoughtShould be a sinn, does to the priest lay opeWith halfe that verity his troubled souleThat I doe mine. I love you: in that wordInclude all ceremony. No sooner hadYour information disingagd my heartOf honoring your daughter, but amazdAt the immensnesse of the benefitYour goodness had cast on me, I resolvdThis way to show my gratitude. 

_Lady_. But dare you, Knowing the daughter vicious, entertaineAffection to the mother?

_Bon_. Dare I whenI have bin long opresd with a disease, Wish pleasing health? theres vertue enough hereTo excite beleife in _Moores_ that only womenHave heavenly soules. 

_Lady_. This is admirable:Did my intention tend to love, as sooneI should embrace your motion in that kindAs any others, wert but to affordSome small lustracon for the wrong my daughterIntended you; nay, to confesse my thought, I feele a strong propension in my selfeTo yeild to you; but I am loath, [95]--your youthWill 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 madeSo iuditious an election. [96]You are very welcome, sir: conduct him in, Sonn. 

 [_Exeunt Young Marlowe and Thurston_. 

_Bon_. Persuade me I can hateSleepe after tedious watching, or reiectThe wholesome ayre when I've bin long choakd upWith sicklie foggs: sooner shall--

_Lady_. Desist from protestations, or employ themMong those who have no more discretionThen to beleive them. 

_Bon_. How, Lady?

_Lady_. You can in Justice now no more appeachOur mutabillities, since you have provdSo manifestly [in]constant. 

_Bon_. These are artsOrewhelme my dull capacity with horror:Inconstant!

_Lady_. Are the light faines erected on the topsOf lofty structures stedfast, which each windRules with its motion? credulous man, I thoughtMy daughters reall vertues had inspired theeWith so much confidence as not to looseThe estimation of her honor forMy bare assertion, without questioningThe time or any the least circumstanceThat might confirm't. I did but this to tryYour constancy: farewell. [_Exit_. 

_Bon_. What witch had duld my senseThat such a stuped Lethurgie should seaseMy intellectuall faculties they could notPerceive this drift! If she be virtuous, As no man but an heretick to truthWould have imagind, how shall I excuseMy slanderous malice? my old fire renewesAnd in an instant with its scortching flamesBurnes all suspicon up. 

 _Enter Belisea_. 

_Bel_. Peace attend you. 

_Bon_. What Cherubim has left the quire in heavenAnd warbles peacefull Anthems to the earth?It is her voyce, that to all eares speakes health, Only to mine. Come charitable mistHide me, or freindly wherlewind rap me hence, Or her next accent, like the thunderers, willStrike me to dust. 

_Bel_. Sir, I come notWith resolution (though my innocenceMay justly arme [me]) to declare my truth;For I am going where your slander cannot(Had it bin greater) blast me. I desireThis for my past love, that youle retaineYour wrong opinion to yourselfe, not labourTo possesse others with it, to disgraceOur yet unspotted family. 

_Bon_. If you wantA partner in your greife, take me alongThat can teach you and all the world true Sorrow. 

_Bel_. Twas not don well to brand my spotles nameWith Infamy; but to deride me isInhumaine, when I only come to tell youIle send my prayers on charities white wingsTo heaven for your prosperity. --You greiveFor what? for your deliverance from a strumpet?

_Bon_. No, but that my raving fancy should directMy trecherous tongue with that detested nameTo afflict thy unblemishd purity, _Belisea_. I do confes my error was an actSoe grosse and heathnish that its very sightWould have inforcd a Crocodile to weepeDrops as sincere as does the timorous heartWhen he ore heares the featherd arrow singHis funerall Dirge. 

_Bel_. Can this be possible?

_Bon_. No sismatick, reduc'd to the true faith, Can more abhorre the Error he has leftThan I do mine. I do beleive thee chastAs the straight palme; as absolute from spotsAs the immaculate Ermine, who does choose, When he is hunted by the frozen _Russe_, To meete the toyle ere he defile the whiteOf his rich skin. What seas of teares will serveTo expiatt the scandall I have throwneOn holy Innocence?

_Bel_. Well, I forgive you;But ere I seale your pardon I in[j]oyneThis as a pennance: you shall now declareThe author of your wrong report. 

_Bon_. Your mother. 

_Bel_. How! my mother?

_Bon_. No creature elseCould have inducd me to such a madnes. 

_Bel_. Defend me gracious virtue! is this manNot desperate of remission, that withoutSense of compu[n]ction dares imagine liesSoe horrible and godlesse? My disgraceWas wrong sufficient to tempt mercie, yetCause twas my owne I pardond it; but thisInferd toth piety of my guiltless motherStops all indulgence. 

_Bon_. Will you not heare me out?

_Bel_. Your words will deafe me;I doe renounce my affection to you; whenYou 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 earesBut those I will not banish, were your businesMore secret. 

_Tho_. Lady, I come to freeMy worthy freind and your owne servant, _Bonvill_, From an uniust suspition your conceiteRetaines of him. Your mother did employ meIn the unlucky message that pronouncd youEmpty of honor. 

_Bel_. Has your worthles freindHird you to sweare this?

_Tho_. I'me none that liveBy selling oathes. 

_Bel_. Ile scarce believ't; he shall notWith all his cunning policie regaineMy good opinion of him. Sir, you cannotDoe 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 illNot to heare out the Gent[leman]. 

_Bel_. Prethe why?His owne confession does appeach him oneIn the conspiracy against my honor. He sayes my mother was the originallOf _Bonviles_ slaunder; and how impiousTwere for a child to thinke so, filiall dutyInstructs 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 testifieWhoes 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 martiallI will beseige their fortresses. 

_Bel_. Who sent these fooles to trouble us?--Gent[lemen], We have some conference will admit no audienceBesides ourselves. We must desire you to withdraw, or give usLeave to do soe. 

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

_Cla_. Heele fight with us, sister: weed best procure him bound tothpeace. 

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

_Bel_. For what?

_Crac_. Why, that you would with Judgment overlookeThis lovely countenance. 

_Cla_. The hangman shall doe't sooner. 

_Crac_. If you knewHow many bewtious gentlewomen have suedTo 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 dayRunn mad at sight of itt. 

_Cla_. It scared her from her witts: she thought thedivell had haunted her. 

_Suc_. Valour deserves regard, myne shall propugneYour 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 manWell 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 professionTo be uncivell?

_Suc_. Uncivell!Noe; what is in other men uncivillIn us is resolution; therefore yeild:I am invincible, flesh cannot standBefore me. 

_Bel_. It must be drunke then. 

_Cla_. I am not ith humour nowTo laugh, or else Ide not dismisse him yet. Good Mr. _Crackby_, does your wisdome thinkeThat I can love you?

_Crac_. My worth deserves it. 

_Cla_. Well said, impudence. Goe, get you home toth Cittie; goe solicittSome neighbors daughter; match with _Nan_ your SchoolefellowWith 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 toMy reputation. 

_Cla_. You shall heare more on't:When thou art married, if the kind charityOf other men permitt thee to geet thee childrenThat call thy wife mother, bring them upTo 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 standIn 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 servicesI have perform'd, to have some salary?Noe labourer works without his hier; I wouldBe satisfied when you determine weShall end our hopes in marriage. 

_Cla_. I have lookt for this month in my CalenderAnd find that marriage is prohibited. 

_Thu_. It is not Lent nor Advent;[101] if it wereThe Court is not so strickt but 'twill dispenseWith freinds, and graunt a licence. 

_Cla_. Whole be boundWith you that theres no hindrance but we mayBe lawfully espoused?

_Thu_. Ime not so barrenOf freinds but I shall find securityFor what will nere be question'd. 

_Cla_. It may be soe; but one who calculatedMy birth did warne me to abstaine from marriageTil 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 seduceMy covetous eyes. Henceforth Ide have you leaveYour love to me. 

_Thu_. I must leave to live then. Why doe you say soe?

_Cla_. Cause it is [un]iustYou should mispend affection on herWho is incapeable of it. 

_Thu_. You'd faine wrestA new expence of complement from me:If you delight to heare your praise, Ile hireSome mercenary [poet][102] to comendIn lofty verse your bewty. 

_Cla_. You are merry:My humor is not specious; we must knowA further distance. 

_Thu_. Wherefore, pray?Our eyes are no more poysonous then they were. 

_Cla_. Yes, they infect reciprocall. 

_Thu_. This languageIs not accustomd; pray, tell me howMy presence is offensive, and Ile shun you[103]As I would doe my fate. You are not serious:My innocence assures me my desertsCan chalenge no such usage. 

_Cla_. Tis confest; but weAre like thinne christall glasses that will crackBy touching one another: I coniure theeBy all our past love, from this parting minuteNere to behold me more. I dare not venterMy frailty with thee. 

_Thu_. What immodestyHas my demeaner uttred you should doubtRavishing from me?

_Cla_. Thats not it, but causeI would not tempt my destinie: thy sightWould inflame marble, much more me whose heartIs prompt enough to fly into thy breastAnd leave mine empty. But 'tmust not remaineIn that lone habitation, least a curse, A fearefull one, sease on mee. 

_Thu_. Can there beCurses more horrid, incident to earthFor its past Sinns, then would depend on youFor such a bold presumption as your breatchOf faith would be. 

_Cla_. Our tyrant fate has foundYet uninvented torments to expresseOur loyall soules. O, _Thurston_, thou wert never--Not when our mutuall freindships might have taughtThe constant turtles amity--more deareTo me then now. I could, as well as then, Peruse love's dictats in thy amorous cheeks, Enioy the pressure of thy modest lipp;But Ime enioynd by powerfull menacesT'infring my wonted use and to disclaimeMy vowes to thee. 

_Thu_. If this be possible, What will become of earth? men will no moreRespect Society or strive to saveHumanity alive: henceforth theyle seekeFor lost fidelity on Caves or toppsOf untrodd Rocks, and plight their trothes to beasts;Commix with them and generate a raceOf creatures, though less rationall, yet moreIndude with truth. O _Clariana_, canThere be a motive able to convertThis pretious Christall temple, built for purityAnd goodnes adoration, to a faineFor Idoll falshoods worship? But I cannotLabour my wandring Judgment to beleifeThou speakst thy meaning. If I have not lovdWith that essential perfectnes thy worthThat man could doe, in charity declareMy Ignorant defect, and Ile amend itWith more then zealous industry. 

_Cla_. Tis vaine:You may as easily penetrate the cloudesWith a soft whisper, as my eares, then whichNoe thunders deafer. _Thurston_, tis not causeI have in the intemperate heate of bloodGiven up my soule to a new choyce, that breedsThis soddaine mutability: I willPreserve my affection as inviolate to youAs Anchorites their vowes, and in my graveInterr my virgin glory. Teares will notPermitt more conference: fare you well; Ile keepeMy passion up till I have none to weepe. [_Exit_. 

_Thu_. Shees gon! What vapor which the flattring sunnExhales to heaven as to create a starr, Yet throwst, a fading meteor, to the earth, Has falne like me? Divinity, that tellsUs there are soules in women, Ile no moreCredit thy dubious _Theorems_ nor thinkeThy lawes astring us to preserve our faith. Let the nice Casuists, that dispute each clauseBelongs to conscience with a[l]ternate sense, Dispense with breach of promise and prescribeEquivocacons to evade all oathesWithout offending, or shees damnd. 

 _Enter Lovell_. 

_Lov_. Well, Companion, at my friends Intreatie I am content to bereconsyld; but have a care, goe to, ha, oh ho, youle[104] ... More; why, goe to then ... Pledge the companion ... Heeres to thee: what, what!

_Thu_. Heres one perchance will satisfie me. Sir, your habit speaks yer understanding:Please you resolve me one thing which disturbesThe quiet of my conscience. 

_Lov_. Revenge may slumber but can never sleep:He that lets slip an Injury thats doneTakes the next course to draw a greater on. 

_Thu_. You counsell well. I pray, in all the volumesYour learning has perusd, did you ere findAny conclusion that allowd it lawfullTo breake an oath?

_Lov_. If she neglect and throw[105] disgrace on thee, Fly't thou as much and be thy scorne as free. 

_Thu_. An Oracle speakes in him; but, pray, tell meIst lawfull then to breake an oath?

_Lov_. Though time prolongs, we cannot style it sloath:My vowes are firme; hees damd that breaks an oath. 

_Thu_. Good, good, agen: but the oath I treat on, Is of another kind: tis to a woman. 

_Lov_. It could not be her fault; there's a mistake in't. 

_Thu_. None o'my life, theres none. 

_Lov_. Let me see, let me see:No, twas not hers, twas _Grimeses_ knavery. 

_Thu_. Ha, whether did wild fancy lead my apprehension. He minds me not but is in disputationWith his owne thoughts. 

_Lov_. Wilt thou pledge me ii cuppes? Why, goe to and goe to, then. Ha to thee, ha, sirra _Grimes_!--When man gainst man conspire to doe evill, For what Society is a fitt!

_Thu_. The Devill. [_Claps him on the shoulder_. 

_Lov_. Oh helpe, helpe![106] [_Exit_. 

 _Enter Lady_. 

_Lady_. I hope, sir, Noe occasion offerd in my houseBreedes your distast; I should be sorry ifIt be soe, and conceald from me. 

_Thu_. Your goodnesIs to nice ore me; Ime exceeding well;Only some erring cogitationsTrouble my braine a little. 

_Lady_. Tis much pittyDistraction should have roome in you; I wouldNot for the love you beare my daughter, have youBe discont[ent]ed here. 

_Thu_. And your daughterRepayes me kindly fort. 

_Lady_. Surely her breedingAffords her better manners then to iniureA gent[leman] of your deservings?

_Thu_. Alas, she has not:Twas but an unkindness triviallMong freinds not worth the nameing. 

_Lady_. It was to muchWert but an ill looke. If I may so far, Without immodesty, entreat the knowledgeOf what it was Ile chide her for't. Pray, sir, --We women are bold suitors; by your lookeIt is no meane perplexity her follyHas cast upon your temper, --pray, disclose it;And ift be anything the obedienceShe owes to me may countermand, she shallRepent her error. 

_Thu_. Your humanityWould wrest a secret from me, though my lifeConsisted ith concealment: she has abolishdHer protestations to me, murdred vowesWhich like the blood of Innocents will pullCloudes of black vengeance on her, for no causeI can imagine but her humor; banishdMe her society and sight for ever. [107]

_Lady_. Tis above wonder: could I as well ruleHer will as her exterior actions, She should not thus reject you; but I cannotLimitt her mind, compell her to affectAgainst her liking. If perswations mayReduse her, Ile endevour it. 

_Thu_. Twilbe needles;I am resolvd to meet her in revolt, Hug infidelity with as strong a faithAs she can possible; and if mans malliceCan passe a womans, my dispight shall winnePreheminence. I will inquire out oneBy nature framd in scorne of bewty, andIn your perfidious daughters presence give herThat heart which she reiected. 

_Lady_. Twere pittyYour passion should undoe you; you may findMatches of noble quality: my daughterIn worth's inferior to you, yet I doubt notBut my perswasive oratorie may gaine youHer forfeited affection. 

_Thu_. Let her reserve itFor them who sue to inioy it; Ile conferrMy fancy on a Negro new reclaim'dFrom prostitution; sacrifice my youthTo bedridd age, ere reinthrall my heartTo her insulting bewty. 

_Lady_. Twould be a maime to your discretionTo abjure a certaine and a pleasing goodFor an uncertaine harme you would imposeIn malice on another. Yo'are a manIn whome the glorious soule of goodnes movesWith such a spacious posture that no woman, But such a squemish baby as my daughter, Would be most fortunate to enrich their choyseWith one so much deserving. 

_Thu_. He experienceYour affirmation: could you love me?

_Lady_. WhatI spoake was a contingent suppositionWhat others might doe, but not argumentI meant to love you. 

_Thu_. But I know you will;I see a pleasing augury in your looksPresages mercy; and those eyes, whose lustreThe light (that scornes privation) cannot equall, Darts beames of comfort on me. 

_Lady_. Twould be rareCould you perswade me to't, I can findNo such propension in my selfe; bewareLeast in this wildnes you ingage your heartTo one cannot accept it. 

_Thun_. Pish!Ime sure you will: humanity forbidsRefusall of my affection, which shall beAs constant as insep[a]rable heateTo elementall fire. --I'me soddaine, lady, In my resolve, but firme as fate. 

_Lady_. Surely, You are not well. 

_Thu_. You are deceivd; I amExceeding well yett; all my facultiesRetaine their wonted motion; but Ime likeA new recoverd patient, whose relapseAdmitts no helpe of phisick: in your loveConsists my hope, futurity of health;And you have too much charity to sufferPerdition overwhelme me. 

_Lady_. Your confidenceWorkes much uppon my lenity; but twouldOccasion scandall; every one would judgeI did supplant my daughter, should I yeildTo your desines. 

_Thu_. Let the censorious worldFright those with harelipd Calumnie whose guiltMerritts detraction; your pure innocenceNo feind dares vitiatt. 

_Lady_. You have prevaild. 

_Thu_. Ile take you at your word, a holy kisseShall seale the contract. [_kisse_. Avaunt! stand of! she has poysond me, her lipsAre sault as sulpher, and her breath infects, Noe scorpions like it. 

_Lady_. What ayles you, Sir?

_Thu_. Ha, ha, ha!Those who imagine such prodigious mischiefesShould be more cunning then to be ore reachtBy puisne[108] cosnage; Have you no more judgementThen to beleive I lov'd you. 

_Lady_. Doe you not love me then?

_Thu_. Can a manRobd of a Jewell deare to him as breathAffect the theife, O murdresse?--for that titleBest suites thy impious quality, since thy curse, Thy cruell curse, imposd uppon my love, Has massacred two of the faithfulst heartsAffection ere united. Though your lustDesir'd smooth youth to sate it, pietyMight have reclamd you for attempting me, Your daughter's interest. --Ile not rayleCause tis unman[ner]ly, [109] untill you findWhat 'tis to cause true lovers prove unkind. [_Exit_. 

 _Enter Alexan_. 

_Lady_. Was I a sleepe? What transitory dreameDeceivd my sense? did I not here my loveProtest affection? no, it was some feindVested in his mortallity, whome hellSent to abuse my weaknes. 

_Lov_. She has bin sure tormented with that furie which cla[pt] me on myshoulder. She talkes of Hell, love and affection. Ha, goe to and goe to!the old Knight my Mrs. Goast, I hope does not haunt the house. 

_Lady_. Twas he, Ime certaine on't; I felt his lips, And they were flesh; they breath'd on mine a warmthTemperate as westerne kisses which the morneWeaps liquid drops to purchase. This confirmesIt was no apparition that contemndMy willingnes, but he, his reall selfe, Mockt my integrity: he must not passe soe, To blase abroad my infamy. 

_Lov_. Madam, feare nothing, be not troubled; the Goast meant no harmeto you, uppon my life he did not; Goe to and goe to, I say and I sayt, he did not. He did appeare to me--your love, your husband, my oldMr. --here, clapt me on the shoulder, as his old custome was still whenhe usd to talke with me familiarly. 

_Lady_. But, Sirrah, what familiarityHave you with any of my privasies?Sausie groome, practise your ancient duty. 

 _Enter Young Mar_. 

_Y. M_. What meanes this fury, Madam?

_Lady_. O, deare boy, What haplesse fate exposd thee to the veiwOf this [sic] sad mothers sorrowes? but I charge thee, As thou respects thy duty, not to questionThe cause of my distemper; my iust fearesProhibits thee the knowledge of it. 

_Lov_. Why, Sir, she has seene the Divell. 

_Lady_. Ha!

_Lov_. Nay, Madam, I have don; they say the Divell has no power ore aDrunkard; once more Ile run the hazard. 

_Y. M_. Whoe, what is he? speake, For heavens sake, speake: were he defensd with cloudsOr circled with unsteadfast boggs, my rageShould cut a passage to him. 

_Lady_. Thou strait will growMore passionate then I: goe to your chamber, Ile but dispatch these gentlemen. [_Exit Mar_. 

 _Enter Sir Geffery, Crackby, [Suc]ett [and Bun]ch. 

_Sir Gef_. O here she is. --Lady, I and my Nephew, being your goodneighbors and of the worshipfull, I of the Country, he of the Cittie, have long desird a match with your daughters, but they are coy, sochildish, so unmannerly; I know not how to terme them: they dispise whoworship offers them, they may[110] hereafter doe worse and have worse, madam. 

_Crac_. My uncle tells your ladiship the truth:We are noe peasants[111] or unhonorableTo be affronted with indignities. 

_Suc_. Here are men that has seene service. 

_Bunch_. At a mustring or ith Artillery[112] garden. 

_Lady_. 'Twas past my pleasure, good Sir _Geffery_, you have had suchharch entertainement from them: henceforth Ile lay my charge upon themto be more tractable. --Mr. _Alexander_, goe call my daughters hither. 

_Lov_. She turnes againe. --I shall with all celerity wish them toapproach. [_Exit_. 

_Sir Gef_. Certainly, Madam, I can see no causeWherefore at first you might not, without puttingMy Knighthood to this trouble, have matched with meYour selfe; it had been somewhat fitter. 

 _Enter Belisea and Clariana_. 

_Bel_. Are these fooles here?

_Lady_. Minions you might have expresd more kindnesIn your behaviour to these Gent[lemen]Whom my strict caire provided for your husbands. 

_Bel_. I hope they cannot blame us, we have usd themWith that respect our modesties allowd. 

_Lady_. Your peevish nicenes settle your affectionsTo a more fayre demeaner towards their worth, Or you shall seeke a Mother and a portion. 

_Crac_. Nay, if you take away their portions, IleMeddle no further with them. 

_Lady_. You both heareMy not to be revoaked intentionRespect this knight and his nephew in the wayOf marriage, or I shall take another order with you. [_Exit_. 

_Cla_. Was it you, good knight of the ill favord Countenance, Who procurd us these loving admonitions?

_Sir Gef_. Nay, and you begin agen, Ile call your Ladie Mother. 

_Suc_. I do protest unto you, beauteous Lady, You do not cast a favorable aspect. 

_Bel_. I am no Plannet. 

_Crac_. Captaine, you doe me palpable affront:She is the election of my understanding. 

_Sir Geff_. Retort not so abstrusly. --Will you disdainThe good of honour, condiscend to meAnd youthfull write me, lady, in your stile, And to each thread of thy sun-daseling h[air]Ile hang a pearle as orient as the gemmesThe eastern Queenes doe boast of. When thou walk[st], The country lasses, crownd with gorgeous flo[w]res, Shall fill each path and dance their rural jigsIn honour of this bewty. 

_Cla_. Hey day, where did you borrow this? Sir, youle beg[one]: I feelethe fitt a coming; I shall rayle instantly. 

_Crac_. Baffeld before my Mrs? Death to fame! Captaine, good Captaine. 

_Suc_. Pish, I doe but drill herFor you, friend; you shall have her, say your CaptaineSayes it, whose words doe ventilate destructionTo all who do oppugn what they designe. 

_Sir Gef_. Come, you shall love me. 

_Cla_. I cannot choose: goe, get you home, antiquity; thinke [of]heaven, say thy prayers often for thy old sinns and let [thy] maid diettthee with warme broathes least some cold appoplexis sease thee beforethou art prepard. 

_Sir Gef_. Madam! madam! shees in her old fitt!

_Cla_. Call her, I care not if she heare me, I councell better than yourphysician: every night drinke a good cup of muscadine, [113]--you willnot have moysture left to ingender spitle to cleanse thy mouth ithmorning. Goe, set thy feath[er] right, good mooncalfe[114]: you haveyour answeare. 

_Sir Gef_, Contemne an old man and his feather, _Bunch_, Ile begon, _B[unch]_. 

 [_Exeunt Sir Gef. And Bunch_. 

_Cla_. Will you goe?--Sister, I have shakd mine off. What stayes this nifle[115] for?

_Crac_. Nay, call me what you will, she is my prise, And I will keepe her. --Captaine, to her Captaine. 

_Suc_. You must not part thus, Mrs; here are menHas scapd--

_Cla_. The Gallowes. 

_Suc_. Ile rigg you up; although you were a CarackI shall find tackling for you. 

_Bel_. You are uncivill; pray, desist. 

_Crac_. Not kisse a gentleman? a pretty ring this same:I have a mind to it and I must have it. 

_Bel_. You will not robb me of it?

_Suc_. I will intreate this glove which shall adorneIn fight my burgonett. 

_Cla_. Some honest hostesseEre this has made a chamber pot of it. 

_Crac_. It is some rivalls ring and I will have itTo weare in spight of him. 

_Bel_. Helpe, Sister, helpe. 

 _Enter Bonvill and Grimes_. 

_Bon_. She shall not neede. It is my ring the villaine desires soeimportunatly: what untuterd slave art thou that darst inforce aughtfrom this gentlewoman. 

_Crac_. Whats that to you? you might have come before me. 

_Bel_. What would you have don?

_Crac_. Entreated you againe to have come behind me. 

_Bel_. O, my _Bonvill_, so happy a benefit no hand but thine could haveadministred. Thou save[d]st the Jewell I esteeme next to my honour, --theRing thou gavest me. 

_Crac_. Nay, if you have more right to her than I, takt I pray you:--would I were off with a faire broken pate. 

_Suc_. Is your life hatefull to you?

_Bon_. Why doe you inquire, good puff past?

_Suc_. My bladeIs of the _Bilbo_[116] mettle; at its splendorMy foes does vanish. 

_Bon_. Ile try that presently;--feare nothing, ladyes. 

_Suc_. Death! now I thinke out, I did breake my blade this morning onfoure that did waylay me: Ile goe fetch another, and then I am for you. 

_Crac_. Take myne, Captaine. 

_Suc_. Hold your peace, be wise: that fellowIn the blew garment has a countenancePresages losse of limme if we encounter. --Ile meet you presently. 

_Bon_. It shall not serve your turne yet: Ile not bluntMy sword upon such stock fish. _Grimes_, bestowThy timber on them. 

_Grimes_. Come, sir. [_beats them_. 

_Suc_. Take me without a weapon? this cudgell sureIs Crabb tree, it tasts so sourely. [_Exeunt_. 

_Bel_. Oh, my Deare _Bonvill_. 

_Bon_. Mistrisse, I sent an advocate to pleadMy guiltless cause: you, too[117] severe a JudgeForbad him audience; I am therefore comeOnce more to prove my innocence. 

_Cla_. Come, without CeremonyForgive you her and she shall pardon youMost willingly. 

_Bon_. Can you have soe much mercy, You soe much goodnes?

_Bel_. Noe soule long tir'd with famine, whom kind deathHas new enfranchisd from the loathed flesh, With happier expedition enters heavenThen mine thy bosome, _Bonvill_. Let our loves, Like plants that by their cutting downe shoot up, Straiter and taller flourish: we are nowInseperable. 

_Cla_. Your good fates, though IRepine not at them, makes my unhappy fortunesAppeare farr more disastrous. 

_Bon_. Whats thy misfortune?

_Bel_. Alas, my mother has crost her in her affection as she did us. 

_Bon_. She shallCrosse ours no more. _Belisia_, if youleBe ruld by me you shall away with me;None but you sister shall be privy to it, And sheele keepe Councell. 

_Bel_. Ile goe any whitherTo enjoy thy presence; theres no heaven without it. 

_Bon_. You shalbe advertisd where she remaines, And certifie us how your mother takes it:When we are married we shall live to thanke you. 

_Cla_. Will you leave me, then?

_Bel_. Prethee, poore heart, lament not; we shall meet, And all these stormes blowe over. 

_Cla_. Your tempests past; mine now begins to riseBut Ile allay its violence with my eyes. 

 _Exeunt omnes_. 

_Actus Quartus_. 

SCENE 1. 

 _Enter Magdalen, Timothy and Alexander_. 

_Ma_. Run, good sweet _Timothy_; search the barnes, the stab[les], whileI looke in the Chambers. Should she be lost or come to any harme my ladywill hang us all. Why dost not fly?

_Tim_. Hey day, if her feet walke as fast as thy tongue, sh[e's] farenough ere this time. What a stir you make! Were you, as shee is, withyour sweet heart, you would [be] pursud, would you? You would be hangdas soone. Al[as], good gentlewoman, heaven speed her!

_Ma_. You will not goe then?

_Tim_. No, indeed, will I not. Her mother may be angry if she please. The time has bin she would as willinglyBin at the sport her selfe as now her daughter. The ge[ntleman] shees gon with is a man, And see theres no harme d[one], I warrant you. 

_Lov_. Ha, ha, gramercy, _Timothy_, thou hittst it right. _Maudlin_, goeto; should _Tim_ here offer as much to you, ha, I beleave you would notlock your selfe up in my ladyes closett; goe to, and goe to. 

 [_Exeunt_. 

_Ma_. Udsme, my lady!

 _Enter Lady_. 

_Lady_. Lost, past redemption! I pursue a fierWhich like the giddy Meteors that seduceWith their false light benighted travellersAllures me to distruction. To curse fateWere to allow I feard it, and admitParticipation in me of that spirittI most detest, a womans. 

_Lov_. Please your good Ladyship. 

_Lady_. Yes, that you depart. -- [_Exit Alexander_. What can he see in her more worthy loveThen is in me? shees but a picture drawneBy my dimensions, and men sooner fancyThe Substance then the Shaddow. Oh, but sheeIs the true image not of what I amBut what I was, when like the spring I woreMy virgin roses on my cheeks. 

_Lov_. Madam, you seeme--

_Lady_. Angry at your impertinency; learne manners, leave me. 

_Lov_. She has coniurd downe my spirit: these are immodest devills thatmake modest ladyes become strickers[118]. Ile out oth storme, takeshelter in the cellar. Goe to and goe to; tis better venter quarrilingmongst those hogesheads. [_Exit Alexander_. 

 _Enter Maudlin [and Timothy. ]_

_Ma_. Madam, your daughter--

_Lady_. Where is she? Who? _Clariana_?

_Ma_. The faire _Belisea_. 

 _Enter Clariana_. 

_Cla_. Did you call me, madam. 

_Lady_. Noe: were you soe neere? begon againe, --Yet stay. --_Maudlin_, avoid the Roome, and if you seeMr. _Thurston_, entreat him hither. _Timothy_, Find out my son and charge him to delayThe execution of my late comaundTill I next speake with him. [_Exeunt Mag. And Tim_. _Clariana_, you did what I comanded?

_Cla_. Yes, on my Soule. 

_Lady_. But thou art ignorantWhy with such violence I inioyn[e]d theeTo leave thy _Thurstons_ love?

_Cla_. Were I not sureTheres nought in him that can be titled ill, I should have thought your circumspective JudgmentHad spide some error in him, and in careOf me your child forbidden me his love. But whatsoer's the cause, though your comaundWas like perdition welcome, my obedienceFullfild it truly, without questioningThe reason why or the unlimited powerOf you my mother. 

_Lady_. You did very well. Now thou shalt know the reason, which beforeI doe relate, afford me leave to weepe, To save thy teares, which at the hearing of itWill, like the dew on lillies, pearle thy cheekes. I have beheld thee with a Rivalls eyeIn _Thurstons_ love; my penetrable heart, Like a moist cloud, has opened and receivdLoves fine bolt into it. Now thou knowst it, Methinks I see confusion in thy lookesPrepard to blast me. 

_Cla_. Heaven forbid it IShould ere conceive the meanest thought of illOf you, my parent. Since you love him, hereTo heaven and you I give my interest upAnd would I could as well commaund his heartAs he might mine, beleive me you should thenAffect you with as true and deare a zealeAs ever I did him: I should be happieIn making you soe. 

_Lady_. Charitable girle, Forgive thy cruell mother, who must yetImpose a stronger penance on thy duty:Thou must go to thy _Thurston_, and obtaineHis love. 

_Cla_. A little labour will serve for that. 

_Lady_. Not for thy selfe but for thy haplesse mother, Who am, without it, nothing. Woe him for me, Use the inchanting musicke of thy voiceOn my behalfe, who, though thy Rivall, yetRemember I'm thy mother; nor canst thouConsigne thy breath to a more holy use(Though thou shouldst spend it in religious prayers)Then to redeeme thy parent. Weepe for me, And in requitall for each drop thou shedstI'll pay to heaven a Hecatombe of tearesFor thy successe. But take good heede, deare child, While thou art weeping, thou dost not discloseThat face of thine; for, were he mine by vow, Loves powerfull Retorick uttered [in?] thyne eyesWould winn from me. 

 _Enter Thurston and Thorowgood_. 

_Cla_. Here comes the Gentleman. 

_Lady_. Be earnest, _Clariana_, I shall heare you. [_Exit_. 

_Tho_. Sir, you must iuistifie this. 

_Thu_. Feare it not; yonder she goes; I'll tell her of it, sheele notdenie it. 

_Cla_. Mr. _Thurston_, whether do you walke soe fast?

_Thu_. O, _Clarianna_, are you there?

_Cla_. Nay, stay, I have a suite to you. 

_Thu_. I wouldBe loth to offend your eyes; when we last metYou chargd me never to behold you more. 

_Cla_. I did indeed, but on mature adviceI have reclaimd that imposition. You shall behold me dayly, talke with me, Doe all the acts that love with InnocenceCan suffer, if youle but overrule your willTo graunt me one request. 

_Thu_. You wrong my faithIn questioning my graunt of any thingYou can desire wer't to undoe my selfeOr combate miseries as yet unheard of, You[r] least breath may expose me to them. 

_Cla_. Nay, in this theres no danger; if there beA real happines on earth, this wayYou shall arrive to it. 

_Tho_. He were unwiseWould he not graunt it then. 

_Thu_. Please you declare it. 

_Cla_. There is a lady, Of such a perfect virtue, grace and sweetnes, That Nature was to all our sex besideA niggard, only bountiful to her;One whose harmonious bewtie may intituleAll hearts its captive: yet she doats on youWith such a masculine fancy that to love herIs duty in you. 

_Thu_. It is herselfe, Ime sure. 

_Tho_. It surely is no other. 

_Cla_. No, tis oneSo farr transcending me, that twere a sinneShould I deprive you, the most perfect man, Of her, the perfectest woman. She will weepeEven at your name; breath miriads of sighes;Wring her hands thus; demonstrate all the signesOf a destracted lover; that in pitty, Though I did love you well, I have transferdMy right to her, and charge you by all tiesThat you affect her with the same true zealeWhich you did me, and ift be possible, Purer and better. 

_Tho_. This is the strangest madnes I ere heard of. 

_Thu_. Is it you, _Clariana_, that speake all this?

_Cla_. You know and heare it is. 

_Thu_. But I doe scarceCredit my hearing, or conceive I amMortall, for surely, had I bin, your wordsLike the decree of heaven had struck me dead. What strong temptation lay you on my faith!O, _Clariana_, let me but declinePassion, and tell you seriously that thisIs cruel in you, first to scorne my love, Next to admitt a scruple of beleife, Though you can be perfidious to your selfe, That I can be soe. Noe; since you are lost, Ile like the solitary turtle mourneCause I must live without you. But, pray, tell meWhat is she you would have me love?

_Cla_. My Mother. 

_Thu_. Ha, your Mother!

_Tho_. Ist possible, lady? you much doe wrongYour innocence in laboring to enforceThat upon him which is my interest. HeavenSmild at the contract twixt us; quiers of SaintsReceivd our mutuall vowes, and though your MotherMay in her passion seeme to have forgottHer pretious faith, yet when I shall awakeHer sleeping reason with the memoryOf that has past betwixt us, my strong hopeTells me I shall induce her to the spheareWhich she has movd from. 

_Cla_. Would heaven you could! How coldly in this causeDoe I perswade! when I would speake, my heartChecks its bold orator, my tongue, and tells itTis traitorous to its Mr. --Noble Sir, [_kneele_I doe conceit you infinitly good, So pittiful that mercy is in youEven naturally superlative, (forgive me, If I offend) you doe in this transgresseHumanity, to let a lady love youWithout requitall. But I must professeTo heaven and you, that here Ile fix to earth, Weepe till I am a statue, but Ile gaineYour pitie for her: pray consider ont. 

_Thu_. Consider ont? wonder has soe engrossdTo its wild use all corners of my heartThat there remaines scarce one poore concave leftTo hold consideration. I must eitherLove her I hate or see her whome I loveWilfully perish. See, shee kneeles and weeps, Prays as she meant to expiate all the sinnsEarth ere committed. One of those pure dropsDoes (as my lives blood in a soddaine trance)Surround my heart. You have prevaild, arise:At your request I will performe an act, Which may no story hold least all who loveHereafter curse the president, --Ile love her. That deathfull word comes from my torturd souleAs a consent doth from a timorous maidFor an enforcing ravisher. 

_Tho_. You are not mad, sir? what doe you meane?

_Cla_. I thanke you. But love her dearely, _Thurston_, sheele deserv't:I doe remember, when my Father livd, How he would praise her goodnes. Think on meAs one that lovd you well, but neer like her;And, if you please, bestow each day a kisseUppon her in my memory. Soe, farewell. --Sorrows flow high: one griefe succeed another;I die in piety to redeeme my Mother. [_Exit_. 

_Tho_. But, harke you, sir, do you intend to love her. 

_Thu_. Good sir, torment me not. 

 _Enter Grimes_. 

_Grimes_. By your leave, gentlemen: good Mr. _Thorowgood_, a word or two in private. 

_Thu_. Compeld to love my enemy! what man, That had but so much spiritt as a mule, Could suffer this! Lay nice prescriptions, Ambiguous bookmen, on submissive slaves;Affright with terror of a wilfull deathThose whom black murders of inhumane sinHas living damnd; Ime yet in my owne heartWhite as a babe, as Innocent as lightFrom any mortall guilt; and were my souleDrawn fro this mew[119] of flesh twould quickly streatchLike a swift Falkon her aspiring wingsAnd soare at heaven. Nature instructs us DeathIs due to all: how can't be then a SinnTo die, or he more guilty of offenseThat kills himselfe or [than?] he who in his bedSome shivoring ague murders? Ime resol[v']d;Ile rather chuse to immolate my lifeIn Martirdome to virtue then reserve'tTill it be staind with mischiefes. 

 _Enter Lady_. 

_Lady_. How doe you, sir?

_Thu_. Oh, oh, my head, my head!Stand further of, good nightcrow: if thou comstAs a presaging harbinger of death, Howlt in thy direfulst and most horrid notes, And ['t] will be wellcome as choyse musick to meAnd Ile adore thee fort, with teares of ioyMake thy black feathers white. 

_Lady_. Good sir, mistake me not, I am your friend. 

_Thu_. I cry you mercy, lady; you are sheeWhom I had vowd to love;--a wild conceiteHad seasd my fancy. Pardon me, I mustProclaim to heaven and to the world a truthWhich I should study to forget: you areA Creature so suparlatively badThat, were the earth as absolute from sinnAs in its first creation, youre sole crimesWould pull a curse upon it. I should tell youThe specialties wherein you're foule, but dare notBreath in the same ayre with you; I beginTo feel infection:--fare you well. [_Exit_. 

_Lady_. Contemnd againe! deprive me of the nameAnd soule of woman! render me a scorneTo the most base of our revengefull sex!If I beare this while there be knives or swords, Poyson or ought left to extinguish lifeThat womans spleene can compasse--_Alexander_! within there!

 _Enter Alexander_. 

Goe to my sonn; inioyne him by all rightsOf naturall duty to accomplish thatWhich in youre hearing I comanded him. Beare him this Jewell and this gold, that whenTis don he may escape; be carefull, As you expect my favour. 

_Alex_. I shall inculcate your desires unto him. --Her favour! goe to, theres comfort. [_Exit_. 

 _Enter Thorowgood_. 

_Tho_. Madam, theres one brings a sad message to you. 

_Lady_. From whome, I pray you. 

_Tho_. From two friends of yoursYour cruelty has murdred, _Lady_. My crueltyNever extended to that horrid height, Not to my foes. Who are they?

_Tho_. Your daughter, The innocent _Belisia_, and my friend, Her worthy suiter, _Bonvill_. 

_Lady_. Your freind and my daughter dead and by my meanes!This cannot be; my daughters sure in the house. Good sir, unfould this ridle, it begettsWonder and terror in me. 

_Tho_. Madam, you know with what a cruel messuageYou sent me to my friend, which provd as falseAs your faire daughter virtuous. Why you did itI will not question, nor upbraid you withThis violation of your faith. 

_Lady_. This storyConduces nothing to the deathes you talkd of. 

_Tho_. Yes, since thenA iust mistrust that you would crosse their matchCausd them last night privatly to steale henceWith an intention to have reacht the houseWhere _Bonvills_ mother lives; but see the fatesHow they dispose of men! crossing the RiverThat runns beneath your orchard, and ith darke, Their headstrong horses missing the ford overthrew themAnd, which I cannot without true griefe utter, There drownd them both. Was it not soe, _Grimes_?

_Grimes_. Tis too sad a truth; and I, After all meanes to save their life was past, Lookd to my owne and got the shore: their bodiesI feare the violence of the tide has carriedInto the Sea by this time. 

_Lady_. Enough, good friend; no more. Had a rude _Scythian_, ignorant of teares, Unlesse the wind enforcd them from his eyes, Heard this relation, sure he would have wept;And yet I cannot. I have lost all senseOf pitty with my womanhood, and nowThat once essentiall Mistress of my soule, Warme charity, no more inflames my brestThan does the glowewormes ineffectual fireThe ha[n]d that touches it. Good sir, desistThe agravation of your sad report; [_Weepe_Ive to much greife already. 

_Tho_. It becomes you:You do appeare more glorious in these t[ears]Then the red morne when she adornes her cheeksWith _Nabathean_ pearls: in such a postureStand _Phaetons_ sisters when they doe distillTheir much prisd amber. Madam, but resumeYour banishd reason to you, and considerHow many Iliads of preposterous mischeifeFrom your intemperate breach of faith to meFetch their loathed essence; thinke but on the love, The holy love I bore you, that we two--Had you bin constant--might have taught the wor[ld]Affections primitive purenes; when, fromYour abrogation of it, Bonvills death, Your daughter['s] losse have luc[k]lessly insu'd. The streame that, like a Crocodile, did weepeOre them whom with an over ravenous kisseIts moyst lips stifled, will record your faultIn watery characters as lastinglyAs iff twere cut in marble. Heaven, forgive you;Ile pray for you; repent. 

 [_Exeunt Thorowgood and Grimes_. 

_Grimes_. O, my deare Master!

_Lady_. Repent! should I but spendThe weakest accent of my breath in sighesOr vaine compunction, I should feare I sinndAgainst my will, then which I doe confesNoe other diety. Passions[120] doe surroundMy intellectual powers; only my heart, Like to a Rocky Island, does advanceAbove the foming violence of the wavesIts unmovd head, bids me my fate outdare. Ills sure prevention is a swift despaire. 

 [_Exit_. 

([SCENE] 2. )

 _Enter Alexander and Young Marlowe_. 

_Alex_. Thinke, sir, to whome the Iniury was don, --go to--your LadyMother, a vertuous lady, I say and I sayt agen, a very vertuous lady. Had I but youth and strength as you have, in what cause should I soonerhazard both then in this?

_Y. M_. Murder, my friend!

_Alex_. Noe, tis doing sacrifice to slaunderd goodnes. 

_Y. M_. Rob my beloved Sister of a husband!

_Alex_. Yes, to redeeme to your mother her lost honour. 

_Y. M_. Art not a Divell?

_Alex_. Ha!

_Y. M_. Thy breath has blasted me. 

_Alex_. I must confes indeed I have eaten garlicke. 

_Y. M_. All pious thoughts that lately fild this spheareAre scatterd with the winds that issu'd from thee, Which, like the infectious yawning of a hill, Belching forth death inevitable, Has distroyd freindship and nature in me. Thou canst not poyson worse: I can feed now, Feed and nere burst with mallice. Sing, Syren, singAnd swell me with revenge sweet as the strainesFalls from the _Thrasian_ lyre; charme each senceWith musick of Revenge, let InnocenceIn softest tunes like the expiring SwannDy singing her owne Epitaph. 

_Alex_. What meane you, sir? are you mad? goe to and goe to; you doe notuse me well; I say and I say, you do not. Have I this for my love to youand your good Mother? Why, I might be your Father by my age, which isfalne on me in my old Mrs service; he would have used me better. 

_Y. M_. Dost weepe, old Crocodile? looke dost see this sword. 

_Alex_. Oh, I beseech you, sir; goe to; what meane you?

_Y. M_. No harme to thee; this was my Fathers once, My honord Father; this did never viewThe glaring Sunn but in a noble cause, And then returnd home blushing with red spoyles, Which sung his fame and conquest. Goe, intreatMy Mother be as pleasant as she wasThat night my Father got me. I am going, say, Most cheerfully to finish her comaund. 

_Alex_. Heaven prosper you. Ha!

 _Enter Thurston_. 

_Thu_. Freind, I was looking for you. 

_Y. M_. And you have found me, Villaine. 

_Thu_. What meane you?

_Y. M_. If thou darst follow me I will conduct theeUnto the seate of death. 

_Thu_. Dare! Ile goe with thee, hand in hand; goe on. 

 [_Exeunt ambo_. 

_Alex_. Goe, goe to and goe to, I say and I sait; here wilbe somerevenge. If the Gent[leman] fall my lady has promist me a farme of100 pounds a yeare; goe to, then. Now, if her sonn be slayne, heresthen this purse of gold and this rich Jewell which she sent to him. By this wee see, whoever has the worst, The fox fares well, but better when hees curst. [121]Goe to and goe to then. 

 [_Exit_. 

_Actus Quintus_. 

(SCENE 1. )

 _Enter Lady Marlowe sola_. 

_Lady_. Twas[122] here about; these are the poplars, thisThe yewe he named. How prettily thees treesBow, as each meant to Consecrate a branchTo the drownd lovers! and, methinks, the streamePitt[y]ing their herse should want all funerall rights, Snatches the virgin lillies from his bankesTo strow their watry sepulcher. Who wouldDesire an easier wafting to their deathThen through this River? what a pleasing soundIts liquid fingers, harping on the stones, Yeilds to th'admiring eare!

 _Enter Thorowgood, Clariana, and Magdalen_. 

_Mag_. This way she went, Ime sure. She has deliv[er']dSo many strang distractions that I feareSheele act some wilfull violence on her selfeIf we prevent it not. 

_Cla_. Yonder is somebody among the TreesHard by the River: alasse, tis shee!

_Tho_. Come softly; if she heare our footing, her disp[aireMay] anticipate our diligence. 

_Lady_. Tempt me not, frailty: I disdaine revoltFrom ought the awfull violence of my willHas once[123] determind. Dost thou tremble, flesh?Ile cure thy ague instantly: I shall, Like some insatiate drunkard of the age, But take a cup to much and next day sleepeAn hower more then ordinary. 

_Tho_. Heaven and good Angells guard you!

_Cla_. My deare Mother!

_Mag_. My gratious Lady!

_Lady_. What inhumaine creaturesAre you that rob me of the priviledgeOf wellcome death, which I will run to meetSpight of your malice!

_Tho_. Oh decline those thoughts;Let not the lucid tapers of your soule, Bright grace and reason, fondly be extinct. Essentiall virtue, whether art thou fled, To what unknowne place? wert thou hid mongst ro[cks]Or horid grots where comfortable lightHates to dispence its luster, yet my searchShould find thee out, reduce thee to this brestOnce[124] thy lovd Paradice. Pray, madam, pray:From those faire eyes one penetentiall teareWould force whole legions of heavens brightest Sa[ints]If they have power to intercede for earthTo beg for mercy for you. 

_Lady_. These are toyesForgd to delude mortality: let me dieAnd afterwards my uncontroled GhostShall visitt you. I only goe and askeHow my _Belisia_ does enioy her healthSince she exchangd her native ayre of earthFor those dull regions. If I find the climeDoes to our constitutions promise life, Ile come to you and in those happy shadesWill live in peace eternally. 

[[125]_Cla_. Alas, I feare shees Irrecoverable. TwasIll don to affright her thus. 

_Mag_. Expect the best:The Gentleman will perswade her. 

_Tho_. O, dispaire, Grimme homicide of soules, how thou involvstMore haplesse creatures in distracted IllsOre [w]home thou triumpst; but Ile fright thee hence:No feind shall add a trophy to thy actsFor victory over her. ] Deare madam, heare me:You had a noble husband, while he livd;And I beleiveThat no perswasion cold have forcd you yeildTo vitiation of his honord bed, Not with a prince. And will you give your soule, Which heaven in its creation had designdA bride to faire eternity of blisse, By vild procurement of hells bawd, despaire, To prostitution of unnaturall deathAnd then of woes erelasting which admitNoe diminution? Can you heare this, Madam, And does the flintie substance of your heartNot thaw, like to a hill of _Russian_ IceWhen fires applid to't? Yes, your eyes demonstrateIt[126] melts already. 

_Cla_. Deare Mother, please you walkeInto your Chamber: here the wind is coldAnd may disease your weaknes. 

_Mag_. Here is your vayle, and't please your ladiship. 

_Lady_. Let me alone, you trouble me; I feeleA soddaine change; each organ of my souleSuffers a strong vicissitude; and, thoughI do detest a voluntary death, My Conscience tells me that it is most iustThat the cursd author of such impious illsOught not to live. 

_Tho_. O thinke not soe: those wordsRetaine affinity with that passionI hop'd youd left. The greatest of your SinnsMercy will smile at, when you doe imploreIts unconsuming grace: the dullest cloudWill, when you pray, be active as the ayreIn opening to receive that breath to heavenThats spent to purge your ills. Why, you may liveTo make a faire lustration for your faultsAnd die a happie Convert. 

_[Ho]llow within_: Follow, follow, follow! that way he went. 

 _Enter Young Marlowe, Alexander, [Consta]ble and [office]rs_. 

_Y. M_. Hell, I will flie no farther; since my handIs guilt in murder it shall sacrificeSome of my apprehenders. 

_Tho_. Whats the matter?Deare Sir, what ayles you?

_Lady_. O my Sonne! I feare. 

_Alex_. Stand back, goe to; what meanes this rudenes. I say goe to, keepe back. 

_Con_. Sir, we must enter: here he is. I charge youAsist us to lay hold on him. 

_Lady_. Why, how now, Fellowes? what makes you presse in here thus rudely?Whom do you follow?

_Con_. Madam, Ime sorry my authorityEnforces me to doe it: your sonn iust nowHas slaine one Mr. _Thurstone_, and the lawCommaunds us apprehend him. 

_Y. M_. Here take my sword:When I but doe waigh the iustnes of the causeFor which I suffer, though I could escape, My Conscience would forbid me. Come, Ile goeWhither you please. 

_Lady_. Stay, officers; all accessaries areAs liable to punishment for murderAs those who act it. I confesse twas IEnforcd my son to slay that gentleman. Your warrant extends to take me with him. 

_Tho_. Alas, beleive her not; greife for her sonneHas made her franticke. 

_Lady_. By heaven tis truth!If you refuse to execute your officeI shall confesse my act unto the JudgAnd soe condemne you of partiality. My Sonn knowes this is truth. 

_Y. M_. I must acknowledgeMr. _Alexander_ oft did instigate meTo kill him. 

_Con_. Sir, you must clere your selfe of this. 

_Alex_. Who? I? Goe, take the babe from its Mothers teat and taxe himwith this crime. I accessary to a murder! goe to. 

_Con_. Why, and goe to, sir, and avoid resistance;You must goe. Will your ladiship walke with us?

_Lady_. Yes, most willingly. I doe this most abhorrid life despiseSince tis to iustice a iust sacrifice. 

 [_Exeunt omnes_. 

(SCENE 2. )

 _A Table: Enter Judge, [127] Sir Geffery, Crackbie, Suckett, and Bunch_. 

_Sir Hu_. I doe admire this accident: since I have sat Judge I have notknowne any such tryall. 

_Sir Gef_. Tis certaine, sir; but looke you, sir, Ile tell you. You doperceive me sir: as Ime a gentleman I lov'd the lady; but she, out ofher pride, I thinke, or else I were to b[lame] to say soe, scornd me. Marke you that, sir? understand you that?

_Sir Hu_. You question my understanding very much, good Sir_Geffe[rey]_. But pray you, sir, being here more conversant then I, c[ould] you informe me how this quarrell grew twixt her [and Mr. ]_Thurston_?

_Sir Gef_. Yes, yes, I can;--but let me see, I have almost forgott;to say truth, I never heard the reason, but as the wisest guess--hum, hum--he should have had her daughter. 

_Crac_. I might have had her my self, you know, uncle. 

_Sir Gef_. Peace, Nephew, peace, give Justice leave to speake. --As Irelated, the reason I related, Sir, was as I told you. 

_Sir Hu_. You told me nothing yet, Sir _Geffery_. 

_Sir Gef_. Noe? did I not say he should have had her daughter?

_Sir Hu_. You did; but what does that conduce to their dissention?

_Sir Gef_. Oh sir, the originall efficient cause, --you understand me?for suspition whispers he had given her a foule blow and would have lefther. 

_Crac_. Nay, by my birthright, uncle, the child was not his alone, for Idare sweare I had a hand at least in it. I did endevor fort, did I not, Captaine?

_Suc_. Yes, there are others to as well as you; yes, she has struck hertop sayle to a man of warr; she has bin boarded, sir, I can assure you. 

_Sir Hu_. What impudent slaves are these!--But are you sure thegentlewoman is with child?

_Sir Gef_. Sure? doe you question it, Sir? _Bunch_, be ready, _Bunch_, to write their confessions quickly. 

_Bunch_. They are not come yet to confession, sir. 

_Sir Gef_. Noe matter for that, _Bunch_; with the Judges leave weelehere their confession before they come, that we may know the better tostate the cause when they doe come. Ist not best, thinke you?

_Sir Hu_. Who shall speake for them, thinke you?

_Sir Gef_. No matter whether any man speake nor noe: we know he killedthe man, and she comanded him, ergo they are guilty; ergoe that must betheir confession, scilicet that they are guilty. Write this, _Bunch_, and then we will perpend, as law and Judgment guides us, whether we willsave or condemne. How say you, sir?

_Crac_. Oh well don, uncle! I knew[128] he would prove what he said, otherwise I would have venturd a sillogisme in Baraly[p]ton to have madeit evident. 

[_Suc_. [129] But with your favour, gentlemen; suppose he did unlive_Thurston_ in faire duell?

_Sir Hu_. No duell can be fayre, cause tis againstThe kingdomes lawes. 

_Suc_. The kingdomes lawes! how shallA Gent[leman] that has a blemish castUpon his life, faire reputac[i]on, Have satisfaction then? allow no duells!Hel! a man of armes had better live in woodsAnd combate wolves then among such milke sops. The kingdomes lawes!

_Crac_. Patience, good Captaine; we will have duells lawful. 

_Suc_. Tis fit they should, being legitimacy managd, sir. ]

 _Enter Constable and Prisoners_. 

_Sir Gef_. O, soe; are you come? weele tickle you ifaith. 

_Con_. Soe please you, heare are the prisoners. 

_Sir Hu_. Tis well, we have waited them. Madam, I should have bin more fortunate to have scene youIn any place but this; and here, In any other cause then this, I would use youAs the precedent carridge of your lifeHas merited, but cannot: y'are a prisonerConvict of murder, a most hideous crimeGainst law and nature. 

_Sir Gef_. Yes, marry is it, and that she shall find ere we have don. _Bunch_, read their indictments, _Bunch_. She had as good have marriedme, I warrant her. 

_Sir Hu_. Good Sir _Geffrey_, silence a while. Who is the accuser?

_Con_. Here. 

_Sir Hu_. What have you, freind, to object against this lady?

_Con_. That she confesd it was by her procurement and comaunde her sonnmurderd young _Thurston_. 

_Lady_. Please you, sir, that a poore prisoner may entreate one favour. 

_Sir Gef_. Yes, you shall have favour!

_Sir Hu_. Any thing mercy can graunt unpreiudiciall to Iustice. 

_Lady_. Then this:You shall not need to produce witnessesOr charge a Iury to designe me guiltyOf _Thurstons_ murder. I confess it to you, Twas only I that slew him. 

_Sir Gef_. Marke that, Sir: shee that slew him! do you hear?

_Sir Hu_. Pray disturbe her not. --How comes it then, Madam, to beaffirmd your Sonn did kill him?

_Sir Gef_. I, lets heare that, how it comes: well remembred, you dideven speake before me. 

_Crac_. O how learnedly could I speake now, might I have licence!

_Lady_. Pray, Sir, Let me not be oppresd with noyse; my causeBeares not so slender waight. For my owne life, So many reasons forfeit it to deathThat 'twere a Sinn, had I a will to live, To plead to save it; but for this my sonnI do beseech a hearing. 

_Sir Hu_. Speake freely, lady. 

_Lady_. Thus then:Suppose the wrested rigor of your lawesUniustly sentenc'd any here to death, And you enforce on some unwilling manThe present execution of your act, You will not after cause the instrumentOf your decree, as guilty of his blood, To suffer as a Homicide: how thenCan your impartiall JudgmentCensure my sonn for this which was my fact?_Thurston_ the malice of my will wishd dead:My instigation and severe comaundCompeld him to atcheiv't, and you will grauntNoe princes lawes retaine more active forceTo ingage a subiect to performe their hestsThen natures does astring a dewtious childTo obey his parent. 

_Sir Gef_. Pish, all this is nothing: there is a flat statute againstit, --let me see, --in Anno vigessimo tricessimo, Henerio octavo be itenacted, --what followes, _Bunch_?

_Sir Hu_. Nay, good Sir, peace--Madam, these are but wild evasionsFor times protraction; for your paritie, It cannot hold; since Nature does enforceNoe child to obey his parent in an actThat is not good and iust. 

_Lady_. Why, this seemd bothTo his obedience; but relinquish thatAnd come to Conscience: does it not comaundIn its strict Canons to exact no moreThen blood for blood, unlesse you doe extortWorse then an usurer. For _Thurstons_ lifeI offer myne, which if it be to meaneTo appease your Justice, let it satisfieYour mercie. Spare my Sonn and I shall goeAs willingly to death as to my restAfter a painfull child birthe. Looke on him!How fitt the subiect is to invite your pittie!What Tyrant hand would cut this Cedar upEre its full groath (at which it stately headWould give a shade to heaven), or pluck this RoseAs yet scarce blossomd?

_Sir Gef_. Hum, what says _Bunch_?

_Lady_. Mercy wilbe proudT'infold him gently in her Ivory armes, And, as she walkes along with him, each wordHe speakes sheele greedily catch at with a kisseFrom his soft lipps such as the amorous FawnesEnforce on the light Satyrs. Let[130] me dyWho, like the palme, when consious that tis voidOf fruite and moysture, prostratly doe beggA Charitable headsman. 

_Sir Hu_. So bad a causeDeserves not to be pleaded thus. Deere madam, Greife overwhelmes me for you, that your guiltHas damp'd the eyes of mercy and undoneAll intercession. Please you desist:We must proceed to th'examinationOf the other prisoners. --Sir _Geffrey_, we shall need your grave assistance:Sir _Geffrey_, be more attentive. 

_Sir Gef_. Tis very necessary. I wilbe sworne she did bewitch me; Ithinke I was almost asleepe. But now to yee, I faith; come on, what canyou say that Judgment shall not passe against you?

_Tho_. Sir, you are the Judge here?

_Sir Hu_. Yes, sir, why question you my power?

_Tho_. Noe, scarlett man, I question thy witt, At least thy Humanity and the ConscienceThat dares imagine to destroy this wealth, To hang this matchless diamond in the eareOf _Ethiope_ Death. Send him to file thy house, Strike with his dart thy Children and thy selfe, Gray bearded miscreant, whose best acts compardWith _Thurstons_ murder (cause this lady did [it])Are full iniquity. 

[_Suc_. [131] The man speaks home and boldly. ]

_Sir Hu_. Sir, you are fitter for a Jayle, a Bedlam, Then to stand free before us. What? art thou mad, man?

_Sir Gef_. Yes, what are you, Sir. I aske to, thoughI know y[ou well] enough. What are you?

_Tho_. I am one, To expresse my selfe in my true character, Soe full of civill reason and iust truthThat to denie my owne peculiar actI should esteeme as base and black a sinneAs _Scythians_[132] doe adultery: twas IThat gave this lady councell to invadeThat _Thurstons_ life, and out of cowardise, Feareing my person, set this bold young manTo be his murderer. Ime the principall, The very source from whence this brooke of bloodeFetches its spring. 

_Sir Hu_. Still more of the conspiracy! Sir, what sayYou to these designements?

_Suc_. Say, sir, you slew the man in equall duell:Twill bring you off, I warrant you. 

_Sir Gef_. Answere, you youth of valour, you that dareSee men of credit bleede. Ha!

_Y. M_. Sir, I am to dy, and should I now speake falseTwould be a maine addicon to the illWhat I alone comitted: for this man, Howsoere his fury does transport his tongue, Hees guiltlesse on't: I must confesse my MotherDid, for some private wrong which he had don, Wish me to call him to account; but thisSteward did with all violence sollicitThat I should slay him. 

_Alex_. Whoe? I? goe to; ist come to this?

_Sir Hu_. Sir, you must answer this. 

_Sir Gef_. Marke how the mischeife lookes. 

_Alex_. I doe defie thy mallice, thou falce Judge. Goe to; my [Mrs. ] I appeal to, she that knowes my vertue and Integrity. 

_Sir Hu_. Away with him toth Jayle: a publique Sessions may [ere] longfrom thence deliver him to the gallowes. 

_Const_. Come, Sir. [_Exeunt Const, and Alex_. 

_Sir Hu_. Madam, for you and for your Sonn, your crimesBeing soe manifest, I wish you wouldPrepare your selves for heaven. Meantime you must remaineSaffe prissoners untill the Judges sitt, Who best may give a sentence on your fact. 

_Tho_. And what for me?

_Sir Gef_. I, what for him, Mr Justice?

_Sir Hu_. Sure your wordsRather proceed from some distractionThen from similitude of truth. You mayBegon, we do quitt you. 

_Tho_. And Ile quit my selfeOf what you will not, [of] my hated life. You have condemnd a lady who may claimeAs many slaves to wait on her in deathAs the most superstitious _Indian_ prince(That carries servants to attend ith grave)Can by's prerogative; nor shall she wantWaiters, while you and I, my reverend Judg, Are within reach of one another. [_Offers att the Record_. 

_Suc_. Death, Sir!Dare you presume to draw before us menOf stout performance?

_Sir Gef_. You sir, weele have you hangd to, sir, with the Steward. 

_Sir Hu_. We doe forgive him; twas his passion. Tis manly to forbeare infirmitiesIn noble soules. Away with the delinquents, officers![133]

_Sir Gef_. [134] I charge you looke to them: there issome rescue intended, I warrant you. 

_Con_. Sir, yonder are some six or seaven without, Attird like Masquers, that will not be deniedAdmittance. 

_Sir Hu_. What are they?

_Con_. [Faith[135]] we know not, Nor will they tell us, only this they say:Heareing of the lady _Marlowe's_ condemnation, They are comeWith shew of death to make her more prepard fort. 

_Sir Hu_. We will deny none of her freinds to see her;They can intend noe rescue. 

_Con_. Noe, my life ont, sir: they come unarm'd. 

_Sir Hu_. Be still; letts see this misterie. 

 _Florish, Horrid Musike. Enter Death, Gri. , and Furies_. 

_Gri_. If in charnell houses, Caves, Horrid grots and mossie graves, Where the mandraks hideous howlesWelcome bodies voide of soules, My power extends, why may not IHugg those who are condemd to dy?Grimme _Dispaire_, arise and bring_Horror_ with thee and the kingOf our dull regions; bid the restOf your Society be addrest, As they feare the frowne of chaunce, To grace this presense with a daunce. 

 _Recorders. Enter Hymen and the Lovers_. 

_Tim_. _Death_, avaunt! thou hast no power;This is _Hymens_ happie hower. Away to the dark shades! hence!And, grim _Dispaire_, let _Innocence_Triumph, and bring eternall peaceTo all your soules and Joys increase. Smile, smile, sweet ayre, on us that comeTo sing _Deaths_ Epicedium. Extract from roses gentlest winds, Such odors as young _Hymen_ findsAt sweet _Arabian_ nuptialls; letThe youthfull graces here begetSoe smooth a peace that every breathMay blesse this marriage of _Death_. Feare nothing, lady, whose bright eyeSing'd _Deaths_ wings as he flew by:Wee therefore, trust me, only comeTo sing _Deaths_ Epicedium. [_discover_, _Tim_. Stay, stay, by your leave Mr. Justice. --Madam, [136] your servant _Timothy_ brings you newesYou must not dy. Know you this Gentleman?

_Sir Gef_. Now, on my knighthood, Mr. _Thurston_. 

_Lady_. Amazement leave me: is he living?

_Sir Hu_. Are we deluded?

_Tim_. So it appeares, Sir: the gent[leman] never had hurt; hees here, and let him speake for himselfe and this gentlewoman his wife. 

_Lady_. Who? _Clariana_?

_Thu_. With your leave, reverend father. --To you, Madam, Whome I must now call Mother, first your pardonThat the conceivd report of my faind deathHas brought you to this triall: nextFor this your daughter and your sonn, whose virtuesRedeemd [me] from the death your rage had thoughtI should have suffred, he agreeing with meConsented to appeach himselfe of thatHe nere intended, and procurd this manAs his accuser of my murder, whichWas but contrivd to let you see the errorOf your sterne malice; that, acquainted withThe foulenesse of the fact, by the effectYou might repent it and bestow your blessingOn us your Suppliant Children. 

_Cla_. Which we begWith hearty sorrow, if we have transgresdOur duty to you. 

_Sir Hu_. I am happie to see so blesd a period. 

_Sir Gef_. Ha, ha, widdow, are you come of thus, widdow? You may thankeme: I hope youle have me now, widdow. 

_Lady_. This soddaine comfort, Had I not yet a relique left of greife, Would like a violent torrent overbeareThe banks of my mortallity. Oh, _Thurston_, Whom I respect with a more sacred loveThen was my former; take my blessing with herAnd all the wishes that a ioyfull motherCan to a child devote: had my _Belisia_And her deare _Bonvill_ livd, this happy dayShould have beheld a double wedding. 

[_Suc_. [137] Death, must he have her then?]

_Sir Hu_. Spoake like a mother. 

_Tho_. Madam, The surplusage of love that's in my breastMust needs have vent in gratulationOf your full ioyes. Would you mind your promise, And make me fortunate in your love!

_Lady_. Sir, I have vowd, Since by my meanes my daughter and her lovePerishd unhappily, to seclude my selfeFrom mans Society. 

 [_Bonvil, Belisia, and Grimes discover_. 

_Tho_. Weele cancellThat obligation quickly. --Lady, I nowWill urge your promise: twas a plot betwixt usTo give them out for drownd, least your pursuiteShould have impeachd their marriage, which is nowMost iustly consummate; and[138] only IRemaine at your devotion for a wife. 

_Lady_. Take her, And with me a repentance as profoundAs Anchorites for their sin pay. 

_Sir Hu_. Madam, how blest am ITo see you thus past hope recovered, My mirth at your faire wedding shall demonstrate. 

_Sir Gef_. I will daunce too, that[s] certain, thoughI breake my legs or get the tissick. 

[_Suc_. [139] Doe you know me, Sir?

_Bon_. Yes, very well, sir. 

_Suc_. You are married, sir. 

_Bon_. I, what of that?

_Suc_. Nothing, but send you Joy, sir?]

_Lady_. But where's my Steward? hees not hangd I hope:This mirth admits no Tragedy. 

_Gri_. Behold the figure. 

_Alex_. I crave forgivenesse. 

_Lady_. Goe to, you have it. 

_Alex_. Thanke you, madam, --I, I will goe to and goe to, and there beere a wench to be got for love or money, rath[er] then plot murder: tisthe sweeter sinn of [the two]; besides, theres noe danger of ones cragg;[the] worst is but stand in one sheet for ly[ing] in two: and thereforegoe to and goe to, I [say] and I sayt agen. 

_Sir Gef_. _Bunch_ take my cloake, _Bunch_; it shal [not] be sed, somany weddings and nere a Da[nce]: for soe many good turnes the hangmanha done you, theres one for all, hey!

_Tho_. Well said, Sir _Geffrey_. 

_Sir Gef_. Hey, when I was young! but come, we loose [time]: every onehis lasse, and stricke up Musick!

 _Daunce_. 

_Lady_. Now, gentlemen, my thanks to all, and since[I]t is my good hap to escape these ills, Goe in with me and celebrate this feastWith choyse solemnitie; where our discourseShall merrily forgett these harmes, and proveTheres no Arraingment like to that of love. 

 [_Exeunt omnes_. 

FINIS. 

_This Play, call'd the Lady Moth[er] (the Reformacons observ'd) may beacted. October the xvth_, 1635. 

WILL. BLAGRAVE, _Dept. To the [Master] of the Revell[s]_. 

INTRODUCTION TO THE TRAGEDY OF SIR JOHN VAN OLDEN BARNAVELT. 

I have never met anywhere with the slightest allusion to this finehistorical play, now for the first time printed from a MS. [140] in theBritish Museum (Add. MS. 18, 653). It is curious that it should have beenleft to the present editor to call attention to a piece of suchextraordinary interest; for I have no hesitation in predicting thatBarnavelt's Tragedy, for its splendid command of fiery dramaticrhetoric, will rank among the masterpieces of English dramaticliterature. 

On a first rapid inspection I assumed, with most uncriticalrecklessness, that Chapman was the author. There are not wanting pointsof general resemblance between Chapman's Byron and the imperious, unbending spirit of the great Advocate as he is here represented; but indiction and versification, the present tragedy is wholly different fromany work of Chapman's. When I came to transcribe the piece, I soonbecame convinced that it was to a great extent the production ofFletcher. There can, I think, be no reasonable doubt about theauthorship of such lines as the following:--

 "_Barnavelt_. My noble Lords, what is't appeares upon me So ougly strange you start and fly my companie? What plague sore have ye spide, what taynt in honour, What ill howre in my life so cleere deserving That rancks in this below your fellowships? For which of all my cares, of all my watches, My services (too many and too mightie To find rewards) am I thus recompenced, Not lookd on, not saluted, left forgotten Like one that came to petition to your honours-- Over the shoulder slighted?

 _Bredero_. Mounsieur _Barnavelt_, I am sorry that a man of your great wisdom And those rare parts that make ye lov'd and honourd, In every Princes Court highly esteemd of, Should loose so much in point of good and vertue Now in the time you ought to fix your faith fast, The credit of your age, carelessly loose it, -- dare not say ambitiously, --that your best friends And those that ever thought on your example Dare not with comon safetie now salute ye" (iii. 1). 

Such a verse as, --

 "In every Princes Court highly esteemd of, "

or, --

 "Now in the time you ought to fix your faith fast, "

can belong only to Fletcher. The swelling, accumulative character of theeloquence is another proof; for Fletcher's effects are gained not by afew sharp strokes, but by constant iteration, each succeeding linestrengthening the preceding until at last we are fronted by a column ofvery formidable strength. Let us take another extract from the samescene:--

 "_Barnavelt_. When I am a Sychophant And a base gleaner from an others favour, As all you are that halt upon his crutches, -- Shame take that smoothness and that sleeke subjection! I am myself, as great in good as he is, As much a master of my Countries fortunes, And one to whom (since I am forc'd to speak it, Since mine own tongue must be my Advocate) This blinded State that plaies at boa-peep with us, This wanton State that's weary of hir lovers And cryes out 'Give me younger still and fresher'! Is bound and so far bound: I found hir naked, Floung out a dores and starvd, no friends to pitty hir, The marks of all hir miseries upon hir, An orphan State that no eye smild upon: And then how carefully I undertooke hir, How tenderly and lovingly I noursd hir! But now she is fatt and faire againe and I foold, A new love in hir armes, my doatings scornd at. And I must sue to him! be witnes, heaven, If this poore life were forfeyt to his mercy, At such a rate I hold a scornd subjection I would not give a penney to redeeme it. I have liv'd ever free, onely depended Upon the honestie of my faire Actions, Nor am I now to studdy how to die soe. "

The whole scene is singularly fine and impressive; it shows us Fletcherat his highest. 

But in other passages we find a second hand at work. In the second sceneof the third act there is far less exuberance of language and adifferent style of versification, as may be seen in the followinglines:--

 "_Orange_. My grave Lords, That it hath byn my happines to take in, And with so little blood, so many Townes That were falne off, is a large recompence For all my travell; and I would advise That (since all now sing the sweet tunes of Concord, No Sword unsheathd, the meanes to hurt cut off And all their stings pluckd out that would have usd them Against the publique peace) we should end here And not with labour search for that which will Afflict us when 'tis found. Something I know That I could wish I nere had understood, Which yet if I should speake, as the respect And duty that I owe my Country bids me, It wilbe thought 'tis rather privat spleene Then pious zeale. But that is not the hazard Which I would shun: I rather feare the men We must offend in this, being great, rich, wise, Sided with strong friends, trusted with the guard Of places most important, will bring forth Rather new births of tumult, should they be Calld to their Triall, then appease disorder In their just punishment; and in doing Justice On three or four that are delinquents, loose So many thousand inocents that stand firme And faithfull patriots. Let us leave them therefore To the scourge of their owne consciences: perhaps Th'assurance that they are yet undiscoverd, Because not cyted to their answeare, will So work with them hereafter to doe well That we shall joy we sought no farther in it. "

Here we have vigorous writing, staid and grave and unimpassioned, and amore regular metre. In determining questions of authorship I have sooften found myself (and others, too) at fault, that I shrink fromadopting the dictatorial tone assumed in these matters by learnedGermans and a few English scholars. But I think in the present instancewe may speak with tolerable certainty. Before my mind had been made up, my good friend, Mr. Fleay, pronounced strongly in favour of Massinger. He is, I think, right; in fact, it is beyond the shadow of a doubt thatMassinger wrote the speech quoted above. In all Massinger's work thereis admirable ease and dignity; if his words are seldom bathed in tearsor steeped in fire, yet he never writes beneath his subject. He had arare command of an excellent work-a-day dramatic style, clear, vigorous, free from conceit and affectation. But he is apt to grow didactic, andtax the reader's patience; and there is often a want of coherence in hissentences, which amble down the page in a series of loosely-linkedclauses. I will not examine scene by scene in detail; for I must franklyconfess that I feel myself sometimes at a loss to determine whether aparticular passage is by Fletcher or Massinger. Most of the impassionedparts belong, I think, to the former. I would credit Massinger with theadmirably conducted trial-scene in the fourth act; but the concludingscene of the play, where Barnavelt is led to execution, I would ascribe, without hesitation, to Fletcher. In the scene (v. 1) where the Frenchambassador pleads for Barnavelt we recognise Massinger's accustomedtemperance and dignity. To the graver writer, too, we must set downLeydenberg's solemn and pathetic soliloquy (iii. 6), when by a voluntarydeath he is seeking to make amends for his inconstancy and escape fromthe toils of his persecutors. 

There is no difficulty in fixing the date of the present play. Barneveldwas executed on May 13, 1619, and the play must have been writtenimmediately afterwards, when all Christendom was ringing with the newsof the execution. In the third scene of the first act there is amarginal note signed "G. B. " The initials are unquestionably those of SirGeorge Buc, Master of the Revels from 1610 to 1622. [141] On comparingthe note with an autograph letter[142] of Sir George's I find thehand-writing to correspond exactly. The date, therefore, cannot be laterthan 1622, but the probability is that the play was produced atMichaelmas, 1619. 

In our own day the great Advocate's fame, which had been allowed to fallinto neglect, has been revived with splendour by Mr. Motley, whose "Lifeof John of Barneveld" is a monument _aere perennius_ of loving labour, masterful grasp, and rare eloquence. Had the dramatists been inpossession of a tithe of the facts brought to light from moulderingstate documents by the historian, they would have regarded Barneveld'sfaults with a milder eye, and shown more unqualified praise for hisgreat and noble qualities. But they are to be commended in that they sawpartially through the mists of popular error and prejudice; that theyrefused to accept a caricature portrait, and proclaimed in unmistakableaccents the nobility of the fallen Advocate. Perhaps it is not sostrange that this tragedy dropped from sight. Its representationcertainly could not have been pleasing to King James; for thatmurderous, slobbering, detestable villain had been untiring in hisefforts to bring about Barneveld's ruin. 

Throughout the play there are marks of close political observation. Todiscover the materials from which the playwrights worked up their solidand elaborate tragedy would require a more extensive investigation thanI care to undertake. An account of Barneveld's trial, defence, andexecution may be found in the following tracts:--

([Greek: alpha]) "Barnavel's Apologie, or Holland's Mysteria: withmarginall Castigations, 1618. " The Apology, originally written in Dutch, had been translated into Latin, and thence into English. TheCastigations, by "Robert Houlderus, Minister of the Word of God, " areremarkable, even in the annals of theological controversy, for grossblackguardism. After indulging in the most loathsome displays of foulbrutality, this "Minister of the Word of God" ends with the cheerfulprayer, --"That they whom Thou hast predestinated to salvation mayalwayes have the upper hand and triumph in the certainty of theirsalvation: but they whom Thou has created unto confusion, and as vesselsof Thy just wrath, may tumble and be thrust headlong thither wheretofrom all eternitie Thou didst predestinate them, even before they haddone any good or evil. "

([Greek: beta]) "Newes out of Holland: concerning Barnavelt and hisfellow-Prisoners, their Conspiracy against their Native Country with theenemies thereof: The Oration and Propositions made in their behalfe untothe Generall States of the United Provinces at the Hage, by theAmbassadours of the French King, " &c. , 1619. 

([Greek: gamma]) "The Arraignment of John Van Olden Barnavelt, lateAdvocate of Holland and West Freisland. Containing the articlesalleadged against him and the reasons of his execution, " &c. , 1619. 

 * * * * *

"This magnificent play is mainly the production of Fletcher andMassinger: it must have been written between May, 1619, and May, 1622, for the King's company acting at Blackfriars. T[homas] Hol[combe] acteda woman's part in it: so did G. Lowin, perhaps a son of John Lowin, unless indeed G. Is a miswriting for J. , as sometimes happens. It issingular that one has no knowledge whatever of Thomas Holcombe, exceptas an actor in Fletcher's plays: although so many of the lists of theking's men of that date have come down to us. Mr. Gough who took thepart of Leidenberg, is Robert Gough, not Alexander: the latter actedonly in Charles I. 's time. Another actor, Michael, is unknown: probablya super. "--F. G. FLEAY. 

Since the above paragraph was written, I have found in the MS. The namesof three more actors, Jo[hn] Rice, Bir[ch], and T[homas] Po[llard]. Thefollowing note, for which I am indebted to Mr. Fleay, will be read withinterest:--"It is noticeable that a play called the Jeweller ofAmsterdam or the Hague, by John Fletcher, Nathaniel Field, and PhillipMassinger, was entered on the Stationers' Books 8th April, 1654, but notprinted. This play must have been written between 1617 and 1619, whileField was connected with the King's company, and undoubtedly referred tothe murder of John Van Wely, the Jeweller of Amsterdam, by John ofParis, the confidential groom of Prince Maurice, in 1619. It is _primâfacie_ likely that the same authors would be employed on both plays. Field, Daborne, Dekker and Fletcher are the only authors known to havewritten in conjunction with Massinger; and Dekker and Daborne are out ofthe question for that company at that date. We are now enabled to fixthe date of the 'Fatal Dowry, ' by Field and Massinger, as c. 1618. "

THE TRAGEDY OF SIR JOHN VAN OLDEN BARNAVELT. 

Sir John Van Olden Barnavelt. 

_Actus Primus_. 

SCAENA PRIMA. 

 _Enter Barnavelt, Modes-bargen, Leidenberck, and Grotius_. 

_Bar_. The Prince of _Orange_ now, all names are lost els!That hees alone the Father of his Cuntrie!Said you not so?

_Leid_. I speake the peoples Language. 

_Bar_. That to his arme and sword the Provinces oweTheir flourishing peace? that hees the armyes souleBy which it moves to victorie?

_Mod_. So 'tis said, Sir. 

_Leid_. Nay, more; that without him dispaire and ruynHad ceazd on all and buried quick our safeties. 

_Gro_. That had not he in act betterd our counsailesAnd in his execution set them off, All we designd had ben but as a taleForgot as soone as told. 

_Leid_. And with such zealeThis is deliverd that the Prince beleeves it;For Greatnes, in her owne worth confident, Doth never waigh but with a covetous handHis lightest meritts, and who add to the scaleSeldom offend. 

_Gro_. 'Tis this that swells his prideBeyond those lymitts his late modestieEver observd. This makes him count the SoldierAs his owne creature, and to arrogateAll prosperous proceedings to himself;Detracts from you and all men, you scarce holdingThe second place. 

_Bar_. When I gave him the first:I robd myself, for it was justly mine. The labourinthes of pollicie I have trodTo find the clew of safetie, for my CuntrieRequird a head more knowing and a courageAs bold as his, --though I must say 'tis great. His stile of Excellencie was my guift;Money, the strength and fortune of the war, The help of _England_ and the aide of _Fraance_, I only can call mine: and shall I then, Now in the sun-set of my daie of honour, When I should passe with glory to my restAnd raise my Monument from my Cuntries praises, Sitt downe and with a boorish patience sufferThe harvest that I labourd for to beAnothers spoile? the peoples thancks and praises, Which should make faire way for me to my grave, To have another object? the choice fruitesOf my deepe projects grace anothers Banquet?No; this ungratefull Cuntry, this base people, Most base to my deserts, shall first with horrourKnow he that could defeat the _Spanish_ counsailesAnd countermyne their dark works, he that madeThe State what 'tis, will change it once againeEre fall with such dishonour. 

_Mod_. Be advisd, Sir;I love you as a friend, and as a wise manHave ever honourd you: be as you were then, And I am still the same. Had I not heardTheis last distemperd words, I would have sworneThat in the making up of _Barnavelt_Reason had only wrought, passion no hand in't. But now I find you are lesse then a man, Lesse then a common man, and end that raceYou have so long run strongly like a child, For such a one old age or honours surfeytsAgaine have made you. 

_Bar_. This to me?

_Mod_. To you, Sir:For is't not boyish folly (youthfull heatI cannot call it) to spume downe what allHis life hath labourd for? Shall _Barnavelt_That now should studie how to die, propoundNew waies to get a name? or keep a beingA month or two to ruyn whatsoeverThe good succes of forty yeeres employmentIn the most serious affaires of StateHave raisd up to his memory? And for what?Glory, the popular applause, --fine purchaseFor a gray beard to deale in!

_Gro_. You offend him. 

_Mod_. 'Tis better then to flatter him as you doe. Be but yourself againe and then considerWhat alteration in the State can beBy which you shall not loose. Should you bring in(As heaven avert the purpose and the thoughtOf such a mischief) the old TirranyThat _Spaine_ hath practisd, do you thinck you should beOr greater then you are or more secureFrom danger? Would you change the goverment, Make it a Monarchie? Suppose this donAnd any man you favourd most set up, Shall your authoritie by him encrease?Be not so foolishly seducd; for whatCan hope propose to you in any changeWhich ev'n now you posses not?

_Bar_. Doe not measureMy ends by yours. 

_Mod_. I know not what you ayme at. For thirtie yeeres (onely the name of kingYou have not had, and yet your absolute powreHath ben as ample) who hath ben employdIn office, goverment, or embassie, Who raisd to wealth or honour that was notBrought in by your allowaunce? Who hath heldHis place without your lycence? Your estate isBeyond a privat mans: your Brothers, Sonnes, Frendes, Famylies, made rich in trust and honours:Nay, this grave _Maurice_, this now Prince of _Orange_, Whose popularitie you weakely envy, Was still by you commaunded: for when did heEnter the feild but 'twas by your allowaunce?What service undertake which you approv'd not?What victory was won in which you shard not?What action of his renownd in whichYour counsaile was forgotten? Yf all this thenSuffice not your ambition but you mustExtend it further, I am sorry thatYou give me cause to feare that when you move nextYou move to your destruction. 

_Bar_. Yf I fallI shall not be alone, for in my ruynsMy Enemies shall find their Sepulchers. _Modes-bargen_, though in place you are my equall, The fire of honour, which is dead in you, Burnes hotly in me, and I will preserveEach glory I have got, with as much careAs I acheivd it. Read but ore the StoriesOf men most fam'd for courage or for counsaile. And you shall find that the desire of glory(That last infirmity of noble minds)Was the last frailty wise men ere putt of:Be they my presidents. 

_Gro_. 'Tis like yourself, Like _Barnavelt_, and in that all is spoken. 

_Leid_. I can do something in the State of _Utrecht_, And you shall find the place of Secretarie, Which you conferd upon me there, shall be, When you employ me, usefull. 

_Gro_. All I amYou know you may commaund: Ile nere enquireWhat 'tis you goe about, but trust your counsailesAs the Auncients did their Oracles. 

_Mod_. Though I speakNot as a flatterer, but a friend, propoundWhat may not prejudice the State, and IWill goe as far as any. 

 _Enter 2 Captaines_. 

_Bar_. To all my service:[143]Ere long you shall know more. --What are theis?

_Leid_. CaptainesThat raild upon the Comissary. 

_Bar_. I remember. 

1 _Cap_. Why, you dare charge a foe i'the head of his troope, And shake you to deliver a petitionTo a statesman and a frend?

2 _Cap_. I need not seek him, He has found me; and, as I am a soldier, His walking towards me is more terribleThen any enemies march I ever mett with. 

1 _Cap_. We must stand to it. 

_Bar_. You, Sir, you?

2 _Cap_. My Lord. 

_Bar_. As I use this I waigh you: you are heThat when your Company was viewd and checkdFor your dead paies, [144] stood on your termes of honour, Cryde out "I am a Gentleman, a Commaunder, And shall I be curbd by my lords the States, "(For thus you said in scorne) "that are but Merchants, Lawyers, Apothecaries, and Physitians, Perhaps of worser ranck"? But you shall know, Sir, They are not such, but Potentates and PrincesFrom whom you take pay. 

1 _Cap_. This indeed is stately:Statesmen, d'you call 'em?

2 _Cap_. I beseech your Lordship:'Twas wine and anger. 

_Bar_. No, Sir; want of dutie:But I will make that tongue give him the lyeThat said soe, drunck or sober; take my word for't. Your Compaine is cast: you had best complaineTo your Great Generall, and see if heCan of himself maintaine you, --Come, _Modes-bargen_. 

 [_Exeunt Barnavelt, Modes-bargen, and Grotius_, _Leid_. I am sorry for you, Captaine, but take comfort:I love a Soldier, and all I can doeTo make you what you were, shall labour for you. And so, good morrow, Gentlemen. [_Exit_. 

1 _Cap_. Yet theres hope;For you have one friend left. 

2 _Cap_. You are deceivd, Sir, And doe not know his nature that gave promiseOf his assistance. 

1 _Cap_. Who is't?

2 _Cap_. _Leidenberck_. One of the Lords, the States, and of great powre too;I would he were as honest. This is heThat never did man good, and yet no SuitorEver departed discontented from him. Hee'll promise any thing: I have seene him talkeAt the Church dore with his hat of to a BeggerAlmost an houre togeather, yet when he left himHe gave him not a doyt. He do's profesTo all an outward pitty, but withinThe devills more tender: the great plague upon him!Why thinck I of him? he's no part of thatMust make my peace. 

1 _Cap_. Why, what course will you take then?

2 _Cap_. A Bribe to _Barnavelts_ wiffe, or a kind wenchFor my yong lord his Son, when he has drunck hard. There's no way els to doo't. 

1 _Cap_. I have gold good storeYou shall not want that; and if I had thought on'tWhen I left _London_, I had fitted youFor a convenient Pagan. 

2 _Cap_. Why, is thereSuch store they can be spard?

1 _Cap_. [145] ... ... ... 

2 _Cap_. I thanck you, Sir. 

 [_Exeunt_. 

SCAENA 2. 

 _Enter[146] Barnavelt, Modes-bargen, Leidenberck, Grotius, and Hogebeets_. 

_Bar_. The States are sitting: all that I can doeIle say in little; and in me theis LordsPromise as much. I am of your beliefIn every point you hold touching religion, And openly I will profes myselfOf the _Arminian_ sect. 

_Gro_. You honour it. 

_Hog_. [147] And all our praires and service. 

_Bar_. Reverend manYour loves I am ambitious of. Already'Tis knowne I favour you, and that hath drawneLibells against me; but the stinglesse hateOf those that wryte them I contempne. 

_Hog_. They are worthieOf nothing but contempt. 

_Bar_. That I confes, too;But yet we must expect much oppositionEre your opinions be confirmd. I knowThe _Prince of Orange_ a sworne enemieTo your affections: he has vowd to crosse you, But I will still stand for you. My advice isThat, having won the Burgers to your partie, Perswade them to enroll new CompaniesFor their defence against the InsolenceOf the old Soldiers garisond at _Utrecht_. Yet practise on them, too, and they may urge this:That since they have their pay out of that Province, Justice requires they should be of their partie:All that is don in _Utrecht_ shalbe practisdIn _Roterdam_ and other Townes I name not. Farther directions you shall have hereafter, Till when I leave you. 

_Gro_. With all zeale and careWe will performe this. [_Exit_. [148]

_Leid_. This foundationIs well begun. 

_Gro_. And may the building prosper. 

_Mod_. Yet let me tell you, where ReligionIs made a cloke to our bad purposesThey seldom have succes. 

_Bar_. You are too holly:We live now not with Saincts but wicked men, And any thriving way we can make use of, What shape so ere it weares, to crosse their arts, We must embrace and cherish; and this course(Carrying a zealous face) will countenaunceOur other actions. Make the Burgers ours, Raise Soldiers for our guard, strengthen our sideAgainst the now unequall oppositionOf this Prince that contemns us;[149] at the worst, When he shall know there are some RegimentsWe may call ours, and that have no dependaunceUpon his favour, 'twill take from his prideAnd make us more respected. 

_Mod_. May it prove so. 

 _Enter Bredero, Vandort, Officers_. 

_Bre_. Good day, my Lord. 

_Vand_. Good Mounseiur Advocate, You are an early stirrer. 

_Bar_. 'Tis my dutieTo wayte your Lordships pleasure: please you to walke. 

_Bre_. The Prince is wanting, and this meeting beingTouching the oath he is to take, 'twere fittThat we attend him. 

_Bar_. That he may set downeWhat he will sweare, prescribing lymitts to us!We need not add this wind by our observaunceTo sailes too full alredy. Oh, my Lords, What will you doe? Have we with so much bloodMaintaind our liberties, left the allegeaunce(How justly now it is no time to argue)To _Spaine_, to offer up our slavish necksTo one that only is what we have made him?For, be but you yourselves, this _Prince of Orange_Is but as _Barnavelt_, a Servant toYour Lordships and the State; like me maintaind;The pomp he keepes, at your charge: will you thenWayt his prowd pleasure, and in that confes, By daring to doe nothing, that he knowes not--You have no absolute powre?

_Van_. I never saweThe Advocate so mov'd. 

_Bar_. Now to be patientWere to be treacherous: trust once his counsaileThat never yet hath faild you. Make him knowThat any limb of this our reverend SenateIn powre is not beneath him. As we sittIle yeild you further reasons; i'the meane timeCommaund him by the Officers of the CourtNot to presse in untill your Lordships pleasureBe made knowne to him. 

_Vand_. 'Tis most requisite. 

_Leid_. And for the honour of the Court. 

_Vand_. Goe on;You have my voice. 

_Bre_. And mine;--yet wee'll proceedAs judgement shall direct us. 

_Vand_. 'Tis my purpose. 

_Bar_. In this disgrace I have one foote on his neck;Ere long Ile set the other on his headAnd sinck him to the Center. 

_Leid_. Looke to the dores there. 

 [_Exeunt_. 

SCAENA 3. 

 _Enter[150] Pr. Of Orange, Gra: William, Collonells & Captaines_. 

_Or_. I, now methincks I feele the happynesOf being sproong from such a noble father, That sacrifizd his honour, life and fortuneFor his lov'd Cuntry. Now the blood and kindredOf _Horne_ and _Egmont_ (Memories great Martires), That must outlive all _Alva's_ TirraniesAnd when their Stories told ev'n shake his ashes, Methincks through theis vaines now, now at this instant, I feele their Cuntries losse; I feele[151] too--

_Will_. All feele sencibly, And every noble hart laments their miseries, And every eie, that labours not with mallice, Sees your great services and through what dangersYou have raisd those noble speritts monuments. 

_Or_. What I have don I look not back to magnifie;My Cuntry calld me to it. What I shall yet doe, With all the industrie and strength I have lent meAnd grace of heaven to guid, so it but satisfieThe expectation of the State commaunds meAnd in my Cuntries eye appeere but lovely, I shall sitt downe, though old and bruizd yet happie;Nor can the bitter and bold tounge of mallice, That never yet spoke well of faire deservings, With all hir course aspersions floong upon meMake me forsake my dutie, touch or shake meOr gaine so much upon me as an anger, Whilst here I hold me loyall. Yet believe, Gentlemen, Theis wrongs are neither few nor slight, nor followedBy liberall tongues provokd by want or wine, For such were to be smild at and so slighted, But by those men, and shot so neer mine honourI feare my person too; but, so the State suffer not, I am as easie to forget. 

_Will_. Too easie;And that feeds up their mallice to a Monster. You are the arme oth' war, the Soldiers sperit;The other but dead stories, you the dooer. 

_Col_. It stands not with the honour you have won, Sir, Still built upon and betterd. 

_Or_. No more, good Collonell. 

_Col_. The love the Soldier beares you to give way thus!To have your actions consturd, scornd and scoffd atBy such malignant soules! you are yourself, Sir, And master of more mindes that love and honour ye. [152]

_Will_. Yf you would see it; but take through the malliceThe evill intended now, now bent upon ye. 

_Or_. I pray ye, no more; as you love me, no more. Stupid I never was nor so secure yetTo lead my patience to mine owne betraying:I shall find time and riper cause. -- [_Guard at dore_. Now, frends, Are my Lords the States set yet. 

1 _Gu_. An houre agoe, Sir. 

_Or_. Beshrew ye, Gentlemen, you have made me tardy:Open the dore, 1 _Gu_. I beseech your Grace to pardon me. [153]

_Or_. Do'st thou know who I am?

1 _Gu_. Yes, Sir, and honour you. 

_Or_. Why do'st thou keep the dore fast then?

_Will_. Thou fellow, Thou sawcy fellow, and you that stand by gaping!Is the Prince of no more value, no more respectThen like a Page?

2 _Gu_. We beseech your ExcellenciesTo pardon us; our duties are not wanting, Nor dare we entertaine a thought to crosse ye:We are placed here on Commaund. 

_Or_. To keepe me out?Have I lost my place in Councell? are my servicesGrowne to so poore regards, my worth so bankrupt?Or am I tainted with dishonest actions, That I am held unfitt my Cuntries busines?Who placd ye here?

1 _Gu_. The body of the Councell;And we beseech your Grace make it not our syn:They gave us strict commaund to stop your passage. 

_Or_. 'Twas frendly don and like my noble masters. 

_Will_. Deny you place? make good the dore against ye?This is unsufferable, most unsufferable. 

_Or_. Now I begin to feele those doubts; I feare still--

_Col_. So far to dare provoke ye! 'tis too monstrous;And you forget your self, your birth, your honour, The name of Soldier if you suffer this, Suffer from these, these things, these--pox upon't!--These molds of men made noble by your services, Your daylie sweatts. 

1 _Cap_. It must not be endured thus, The wrong extends to us, we feele it severally. 

2 _Cap_. Your sweet humillitie has made 'em scorne yeAnd us, and all the world that serve their uses;And stick themselves up teachers, masters, princes, Allmost new gods too, founders of new faithes. --Weell force your way. 

_Col_. Let's see then who dare stop ye. 

_Gu_. Not we, I am sure. 

_Col_. Let's see who dare denie yeYour place and right of councell. 

_Or_. Stay, I commaund ye;He that puts forward first to this wild actionHas lost my love and is becom mine Enemy, My mortall enemie. Put up your weapons, You draw 'em against order, duty, faith;And let me die ere render such examples. The men you make so meane, so slight account of, And in your angers prise, not in your honours, Are Princes, powerfull Princes, mightie Princes;That daylie feed more men of your great fashionAnd noble ranck, pay and maintaine their fortunes, Then any monarch _Europe_ has: and for this bountie, If ye consider truly, Gentlemen, And honestly, with thankfull harts remember, You are to pay them back againe your service:They are your masters, your best masters, noblest, Those that protect your states, hold up your fortunes;And for this good you are to sacrifizeYour thancks and duties, not your threats and angers. I and all Soldiers els that strike with their armes, And draw from them the meanes of life and honour, Are doble tyde in faith to observe their pleasures. 

_Col_. A Prince of rare humanitie and temper. Sir, as you teach us armes, you man our minds, too, With civill precepts, making us true Soldiers, Then worthie to receive a trust from othersWhen we stand masters of our owne discretions. 

 _Enter Barnavelt, Modesbargen, Leidenberch, Grotius Bredero, Vandort & Hogerbeets_. 

_Will_. Your good and great example tyes us all, Sir. 

_Cap_. The Councell's broken up. 

_Or_. My noble Lords, Let it not seeme displeasing to your wisdomes, I humbly ask in what I have offended, Or how suspected stand, or with what cryme blotted, That this day from your fellowship, your councell, My Cuntries care and where I owe most service, Like a man perishd in his worth I am exilde. 

_Bar_. Your Grace must know we cannot wait attendaunce, Which happely you looke for. 

_Or_. Wayt, my lords!

_Bar_. Nor what we shall designe for the States comfortStay your deliberate crosses. We know you are able, And every way a wise Prince fitt for counsell;But I must tell ye, Sir, and tell ye truly, The Soldier has so blowne ye up, so swelld yeAnd those few services you call your owne, That now our commendations are too light gales, Too slacke and emptie windes, to move your worthes;And trumpets of your owne tongue and the SoldiersNow onely fill your sailes. 

_Bre_. Be not so bitter. 

_Bar_. We mix with quiet speritts, staid and temperate, And those that levell at not great but good endsDare hold us their Companions, not their Servants, And in that ranck be ready to supply us. Your Grace is growne too haughtie. 

_Leid_. Might it please youBut thinck, Sir, of our honest services(I dare not terme them equall) and but waigh well, In which I know your Grace a perfect master, Your judgment excellent, and then but tell usAnd truly (which I know your goodnes will doe)Why should we seeme so poore, so undertrodden, And though not trusted with the State and Councell, Why so unable vallued. Pardon, great Sir, If those complaine who feele the waight of envy, If such poore trod on wormes make show to turne againe. Nor is it we that feele, I hope, nor you, Sir, That gives the cullour of this difference:Rumour has many tongues but few speak truth:We feele not onely, --if we did 'twere happie--Our Cuntry, Sir, our Cuntrie beares the blow too;But you were ever noble. 

_Or_. Good my Lords, Let it be free your Servant, chargd in mallice, If not fling of his crymes, at least excuse 'emTo you my great correcter. Would to heaven, Sir, That syn of pride and insolence you speake of, That pufft up greatnes blowne from others follyesWere not too neere akin to your great LordshipAnd lay not in your bosom, your most deere one. You taint me, Sir, with syns concerne my manners, --If I have such Ile studdy to correct 'em;But, should I taint you, I should charge ye deeper:The cure of those would make ye shrinck and shake, too, --Shake of your head. 

_Bar_. You are too weak ith' hams, Sir. 

_Or_. Who raisd these new religious forces, Sir, And by what warrant? what assignement had yeFrom the States generall? who blew new fires?Even fires of fowle rebellion, I must tell ye;The bellowes to it, Religion. You were lov'd yetBut for your ends, --through all the Townes, the Garrisons, To fright the union of the State, to shake it. What syns are theis? You may smile with much comfort, And they that see ye and not looke closely to yeMay crye too er't be long. 

_Bar_. Your Grace has leave, Sir, And tis right good it be soe. --Follow me home, And there Ile give ye new directionsHow to proceed, and sodainely. 

_Leid_. | We are yours, Sir. _Mod_. | [_Exeunt Bar. , Leid. , Mod_. 

_Or_. My lords, to what a monster this man's grownYou may (if not abusd with dull securitie)See plaine as day. 

_Bre_. We doe not like his carriage. 

_Van_. He do's all, speakes all, all disposes. 

_Or_. Spoiles all. He that dare live to see him work his ends outUncrossd and unprevented, that wretched manDare live to see his Cuntry shrinck before him. Consider my best lords, my noblest masters, How most, most fitt, how just and necessaryA sodaine and a strong prevention. 

_Bre_. We all conceave your Grace and all look through himAnd find him what we feare not yet but grieve at. You shall have new Commission from us allTo take in all those Townes he has thrust his men in:When you have that, proceed as likes your Excellence. 

_Or_. Your lordships true friend and most obedient Servant. 

_Van_. Come to the present busines then. 

_Or_. We attend you. 

 [_Exeunt_. 

_Actus Secundus_. 

SCAENA PRIMA. 

 _Enter Barnavelt, Leidenberch, Modesbargen_. 

_Bar_. I have with danger venturd thus far to youThat you might know by me our plot's discoverd. But let not that discourage you: though _Van Dort_And _Bredero_, with others, have assentedTo force this Towne, stand you still on your Guard, And on my reputation rest assuredWith violence they never dare attempt you;For that would give the world to understandTh'united Provinces, that by their concordSo long have held out 'gainst th'oppositionOf all _Spaines_ Governours, their plotts and armyes, Make way to their most certaine ruyn byA Civill warre. 

_Leid_. This cannot be denide. 

_Bar_. And so at any time we may make our peace, Returning to our first obedienceUpon what termes we please. 

_Mod_. That is not certaine;For, should we tempt them once to bring their forcesAgainst the Towne and find we give it upFor want of strength to keepe it, the ConditionsTo which we must subscribe are in their willAnd not our choice or pleasure. 

_Bar_. You are governdMore by your feare then reason. 

_Mod_. May it prove soe:That way I would be guiltie. 

_Bar_. How appeereThe new raisd Companies?

_Leid_. They stand full and faithfull;And for the Burgers, they are well affectedTo our designes. The _Arminians_ play their parts too, And thunder in their meetings hell and dampnationTo such as hold against us. 

_Bar_. 'Tis well orderd:But have you tride by any meanes (it skills notHow much you promise) to wyn the old Soldiers(The _English_ Companies, in chief, I ayme at)To stand firme for us?

_Leid_. We have to that purposeImploid _Rock-Giles_, with some choice Burgers elsThat are most popular to the OfficersThat doe commaund here in the Collonells absence. We expect them every mynitt. Yf your Lordship(For 'tis not fitt, I think, you should be seene)Will please to stand aside (yet you shalbeWithin the hearing of our Conference)You shall perceive we will imploy all artsTo make them ours. 

_Mod_. They are come. 

_Bar_. Be earnest with them. 

 _Enter Rock-Giles, 2 Burgers, Captaines, Leuitenant_. 

_R: Giles_. With much adoe I have brought 'em: the prowde Shellains[154]Are paid too well, and that makes them forgetWe are their Masters. 

1 _Burg_. But when we tooke them on, Famishd allmost for want of entertainement, Then they cryde out they would do any thingWe would commaund them. 

1 _Cap_. And so we say still, Provided it be honest. 

_Giles_. Is it fittThat mercenary Soldiers, that for payGive up their liberties and are sworne t'exposeTheir lyves and fortunes to all dangers, shouldCapitulate with their Lords?

1 _Burg_. Prescribing whenThey are pleasd to be commaunded and for what. 

_Giles_. Answeare to this. 

_Leuit_. You know our resolutions, And therefore, Captaine, speak for all. 

1 _Cap_. I will, And doe it boldly: We were entertaindTo serve the generall States and not one Province;To fight as often as the Prince of _Orange_Shall lead us forth, and not to stand against him;To guard this Cuntrie, not to ruyn it;To beat of foreigne Enemies, not to cherishDomestique factions. And where you upbraid usWith the poore means we have to feed, not cloath us, Forgetting at how deere a rate we buyThe triffles we have from you, thus I answeare:--Noe Cuntrie ere made a defensive warAnd gaind by it but you. What privat GentlemanThat onely trailes a pike, that comes from _England_Or _Fraunce_, but brings gold with him which he leaves hereAnd so enriches you? Where such as serveThe _Polander, Bohemian, Dane_, or _Turck_, Though they come almost naked to their Collours, Besides their pay (which they contempne) the spoilesOf armyes overthrowne, of Citties sackd, Depopulations of wealthie Cuntries, If he survive the uncertaine chaunce of war, Returne him home to end his age in plentyOf wealth and honours. 

_Bar_. This is shrewdly urgd. 

1 _Cap_. Where we, poore wretches, covetous of fame onely, Come hether but as to a Schoole of warTo learne to struggle against cold and hunger, And with unwearied steps to overcomeA tedious march when the hot Lyons breathBurnes up the feilds; the glory that we ayme atBeing our obedience to such as doeCommaund in cheif; to keepe our rancks, to flyMore then the death all mutenies and rebellions. And would you then, whose wisdomes should correctSuch follies in us, rob us of that litle, That litle honour that rewards our service, To bring our necks to the Hangmans Sword or Halter, Or (should we scape) to brand our foreheads withThe name of Rebells?

_Giles_. I am put to a non plus:--Speake mine Here Secretarie. 

_Leid_. I have heardSo much deliverd by you and so well, Your actions, too, at all parts answearingWhat you have spoken, that I must acknowledgeWe all stand far indebted to your service:And therefore, as unto the worthiest, The faithfullest and strongest that protectUs and our Cuntries, we now seek to you, And would not but such men should be remembredAs principall assistants in the CareOf a disease which now the State lyes sick of. I know you love the valiant Prince, and yetYou must graunt him a Servant to the StatesAs you are, Gentlemen, and therefore will notDefend that in him which you would not cherishIn cold blood in your selves; for should he beDisloyall--

_Leuit_. He disloyall! 'tis a languageI will not heare. 

2 _Cap_. Such a suspition of himIs one that wore a Sword deserv'd the lye. 

1 _Cap_. We know your oild tongue; and your rethoriqueWill hardly work on us that are acquaintedWith what faire language your ill purposesAre ever cloathd, nor ever wilbe wonTo undervalue him whose least fam'd serviceScornes to be put in ballance with the bestOf all your Counsailes; and for his faith, O heaven!It do's as far transcend yours in your prairesAs light do's darkness. 

_Leid_. I perceive 'tis trueThat such as flatter Servants make them prowd. Wee'll use a rougher way, and here commaund youTo leave the Towne, and sodainely, if you wish notTo be forced hence. 

1 _Cap_. Your new raisd CompaniesOf such as never saw the EnemieCan hardly make that good: we were placed hereBy the allowaunce of the generall StatesAnd of the Prince to keep it to their use. 

_Leuit_. And we will doe it. 

1 _Cap_. And while there is LeadUpon a house, or any Soldier masterBut of a doyt: when that is gon, expectThat we will make you sport, or leave our livesTo witness we were faithfull. --Come, Lieutenant, Let us draw up the Companies; and thenCharge on us when you please. [_Exeunt_. 

_Mod_. This I foresaw. 

_Bar_. Oh, I am lost with anger! are we falneSo lowe from what we were, that we dare heareThis from our Servants and not punish it?Where is the terrour of our names, our powreThat _Spaine_ with feare hath felt in both his _Indies_?We are lost for ever, and from freemen growneSlaves so contemptible as no worthie Prince, That would have men, not sluggish Beasts, his Servants, Would ere vouchsafe the owning. Now, my frends, I call not on your furtherance to preserveThe lustre of my actions; let me with themBe nere remembred, so this governmentYour wives, your lives and liberties be safe:And therefore, as you would be what you are, Freemen and masters of what yet is yours, Rise up against this Tirant, and defendWith rigour what too gentle lenitieHath almost lost. 

_Leid_. Ile to the new raisd SoldiersAnd make them firme. 

_Giles_. Ile muster up the BurgersAnd make them stand upon their guard. 

_Mod_. For meIle not be wanting. 

_Bar_. Ile back to the _Hage_And something there Ile doe that shall divertThe torrent that swells towards us, or sinck in it;And let this Prince of _Orange_ seat him sure, Or he shall fall when he is most secure. 

 [_Exeunt_. 

SCAENA 2. 

 _Enter Holderus, Dutch-woemen and an English Gentlew_. 

1 _D. W_. Here come the Sisters: that's an _English_ Gentlewoman, Let's pray for hir Conversion. 

2 _D. W_. You are wellcom, Lady, And your comming over hether is most happy;For here you may behold the generall freedomWe live and traffique in, the ioy of woemen. No emperious _Spanish_ eye governes our actions, Nor _Italian_ jealouzie locks up our meetings:We are ourselves our owne disposers, masters;And those that you call husbands are our Servants. 

3 _D. W_. Your owne Cuntry breedes ye hansom, maintaines ye brave, But with a stubborne hand the husbands awe ye:You speake but what they please, looke where they point ye, And though ye have some libertie 'tis lymitted. 

4 _D. W_. Which cursse you must shake of. To live is nothing;To live admird and lookd at, --poore deservingsBut to live soe, so free you may commaund, Lady, Compell, and there raigne Soveraigne. 

1 _D. W_. Do you thinck there's any thingOur husbands labour for, and not for our ends?Are we shut out of Counsailes, privacies, And onely lymitted our household busines?No, certaine, Lady; we pertake with all, Or our good men pertake no rest. Why this manWorks theis or theis waies, with or against the State, We know and give allowaunces. 

_2 D. W_. Why such a Gentleman, Thus hansom and thus yong, commaunds such a quarter;Where theis faire Ladies lye; why the _Grave's_ angryAnd Mounseiur _Barnavelt_ now discontent, --Do you thinck it's fitt we should be ignorant?

_2 D. W_. Or why there's sprung up now a new devotion?Good Gentlewoman, no. Do you see this fellow?He is a Scholler and a parlous Scholler, Or whether he be a Scholler or no 'tis not a doy't matter:He's a fine talker and a zealous talker;We can make him thinck what we list, say what we list, Print what we list and whom we list abuse in't. 

_Eng. -gentw_. And a Teacher do you say?

_2 D. W_. A singuler teacher, For so we hold such here. 

_Eng. -gentw_. Doe they use no modestieUpon my life, some of theis new _Arminians_, Theis hissing tosts!

_Hold_. An ignorant strange woman, Whose faith is onely tride by a Coach and foure horses. 

_3 D. W_. Come, you must be as we are and the rest of your Countrywomen;You doe not know the sweet on't. 

_Eng. -gentw_. Indeed, nor will not;Our Cuntry brings us up to faire ObedienceTo know our husbands for our Governours, So to obey and serve 'em: two heads make monsters;Nor Dare we thinck of what is don above us, Nor talk of _Graves_. 

_Hold_. The _Grave_ shall smart for 't shortly;Goe you and tell him soe, gooddy _English woman_:You have long tayles and long tongues, but we shall clip 'em. 

_Enter Vandermitten_. [155]

_I D. W_. How now? what haste?

_Vand_. The Prince is drawing up to usAnd has disarmd all the strong Townes about usOf our new Soldiers; the _English_ now stand onlyAnd the old Companies. 

_Eng. -gentw_. Now your wisdomes, Ladies, Your learning also, Sir, your learned prating--You that dare prick your eares up at great PrincesAnd doble charge your tongue with new opinions, --What can you doe? or can theis holly woemenThat you have arm'd against obedienceAnd made contempners of the fooles their husbands, Examiners of State, --can they doe any thing?Can they defy the Prince?

_Hold_. They shall defie him, And to his face: why doe not ye raise the BurgersAnd draw up the new Companies?

 _Enter Leidenberge_?[156]

_Leid_. Away, good women!This is no sport for you: goe, cheere your husbandsAnd bid 'em stand now bravely for their liberties. _Arnam_ and _Roterdam_ and all about usHave yeilded him obedience; all the new CompaniesPurgd and disarmd. Goe you; talke to the _Arminians_, And raise their harts. Good Ladies, no more Councells:This is no time to puppet in. 

1 _D. W_. We are gon, Sir, _2 D. W_. And will so coniure up our lazie husbands. 

_Eng. -gentw_. And coniure wisely, too; the devill will faile else. [_Exeunt Women_. 

_Leid_. What's she?

_Vand_. An _English_ woman. 

_Leid_. Would they were all shipt wellTo th' other part oth' world. Theis stubborne _English_We onely feare. 

_Vand_. We are strong enough to curb 'em. 

_Leid_. But we have turnop hearts. 

 _Enter a Messenger_. 

Now what's the next newes?

_Mess_. [157] The Prince is at the Barriers, and desires his entraunce

_Leid_. He must not enter:--what Company is with him?

_Mess_. But few, and those unarmd too: about some twentie. 

_Leid_. And what behind?

_Mess_. We can discover none. 

_Leid_. Let's goe and view: Brothers, be strong and valiant;We have lost the Towne els and our freedoms with it. [_Exeunt_. 

SCAENA 3. 

 _Enter 1 Captaine[158] and Soldiers_. 

_Sold_. They charge us not to let him in. 

1 _Cap_. We will doe it;He has our faithes. --What strengthe's upon the Guard?

_Sold_. Two hundred _English_. 

1 _Cap_. Goe, and give this comaund then:That if any Burgers or _Arminian_ SoldiersOffer to come upon the Guard, or let in or outAny without our knowledge, presentlyTo bend their strength upon 'em. 

_Sold_. It shalbe don. [_Exit_. 

1 _Cap_. Do you disperse to the old Companies, Bid 'em be ready; tell 'em now is the time, And charge 'em keepe a strong eye ore the Burgers. Ile up to'th Guard. 

_Sold_. Wee'le doe it seriously. 

 [_Exeunt_. 

SCAENA 4. 

 _Enter Prince of Orange, William, Captaine, [159] Leiutenant, &c_. 

_Or_. None of our frends upon the Portt? Is this the welcomOf such a Towne, so bound in preservationTo us and ours?

2 _Cap_. The Prince is sadly angry. 

_Leiut_. Can ye blame him, Captaine, when such a den of dog whelpsAre fosterd here against him? You will rouse anon:There are old Companies sure, honest and faithfull, That are not poysond with this ranck infection. Now they appeare, Sir. 

 _Enter Captaine[160] on the walls_. 

1 _Cap_. Will your Grace please to enter?

_Or_. And thanck ye too. 

1 _Cap_. The Port is open for ye. 

_Or_. You see my number. 

1 _Cap_. But I hope 'tis more, Sir. 

_Or_. Theis must in first; 'Twill breed a good securitie. 

1 _Cap_. We stand all ready for your Grace. 

_Or_. We thanck ye. 

1 _Cap_. What Companies come on, Sir. 

_Or_. Three Troope of horse, That will be with ye presently: keepe strong the Port. 

1 _Cap_. Enter when please your Grace; we shall stand sure, Sir. 

 [_Exeunt_. 

SCAENA 5. 

 _Enter Leidenberge, Vandermitten, [161] Rock Giles_. 

_Leid_. Is he come in, do you say?

_Vand_. He is, but followedSo slenderly and poore. 

_Leid_. We are undon then;He knowes too well what ground he ventures on. Where are the _Arminian_ Soldiers?

_R. Giles_. They stand ith' market place. 

_Leid_. Are they well armd?

_R. Giles_. Ready to entertaine him. 

_Leid_. Who commaunds the Port?

_Vand_. The _English_. 

_Leid_. Ten towsand devills!Odd's sacrament! a meere trick to betray us. 

_Vand_. We can discover none behind. 

_Leid_. A trick:Those _English_ are the men borne to undooe us. 

 _Enter Messenger_. [162]

_Mess_. Arme, arme, and now stand to your ancient freedoms!Three troope of horse, ten Companies of footeAre enterd now the Port. 

_Leid_. I told ye, Gentlemen. 

_Mess_. The _English_ make a stand upon the new Companies, Ready to charge 'em if they stirr. 

_Leid_. Oh mischief!All our designes are crackt, layed open, ruynd:Let's looke if any cure remaine. O devill!

 [_Exeunt_. 

SCAENA 6. 

 _Enter Duch-woemen and Burgers_. 

_Duch-W_. The Prince, the Prince, the Prince! O our husbands. 

_Burg_. Goe pray, goe pray, goe pray: We shalbe hangd all. 

_Duch-W_. I would it were no worse:

 _Enter Eng. -gentw_. 

_Eng. -gentw_. Now where's your valours, You that would eat the Prince?

_Duch-W_. Sweet _English_ Gentlewoman. 

_Eng. -gentw_. Fy, doe not run! for shame! body a me, How their feare outstincks their garlick! litle Sir _Gregory_, _Enter Holderus_. [163]

Art thou afraid, too? out with thy two edgd tongueAnd lay about thee!

_Hold_. Out o' my way, good woeman, Out o' my way: I shalbe whipt, and hangd too. 

_Eng. -gentw_. Theis fellowes have strong faithes and notable valours:Ile walk about and see this sport. 

 [_Exeunt_. 

SCAENA 7. 

 _Enter Orange, Leidenberge, Burgers, Captaines, Soldiers, and Arminians_. 

_Or_. Now, Mounseuir _Leidenberge_ you may se openlyThe issues of your desperate undertakings, And your good helpes, myne Heeires; now you must feele too, And to your greifes, what the deserts of those areThat boldly dare attempt their Cuntries ruynAnd who we serve, how faithfully and honestlyYou must and shall confes too: not to blind endsHood-winckt with base ambition, such as yours are, But to the generall good. --Let[164] theis new CompaniesMarch by us through the Market, so to the Guard house, And there disarme;--wee'll teach ye true obedience;--Then let 'em quitt the Towne, hansom swag fellowesAnd fitt for fowle play. 

_Leiut_. Theis are but heavy marches. 

_Or_. They wilbe lighter straight, when they are unfurnishdYou put your trust in theis; you have tall defences, --Treason maintaind with heresie, fitt weapons!--So now disarme the Towne: wee'll plant new Governours!

_Leid_. Will your Grace be pleasd to heare?

_Or_. Yes, at the _Hage_, Sir, Till when bethinck you of your acts and answeares, For there before the generall State--Where's _Modesbargen_?

_Cap_. He left the Towne two daies agoe. 

_Or_. A guilty feare, But we shall fright him worsse. Good order takeFor the Towne, and what fitt Garrison to leave in't. We are homeward bound, where we shall make you wellcom, You have instructed us in what free fashion. Come, Gentlemen, let's now goe take our rest:Prowd confidence is but a foole at best. 

 [_Exeunt_. 

_Actus Tercius_. 

SCAENA PRIMA. 

 _Enter Bredero, Vandort_. [165]

_Bre_. Myne Heire Vandort, what thinck ye of the Prince now?

_Vandort_. Like a true noble Gentlemen he has borne himselfAnd a faire fortunate Soldier: I hold the State, Sir, Most happie in his care, and this torne Cuntry, Whose wounds smart yet, most bound to his deliveraunce. 

_Bre_. 'Tis certaine his proceedings in this busines, As in all els, have byn most wise and constantAnd waited on with full wingd Expedition:How many Townes armd with theis new Pretenders, Stird up and steeld by founders of new doctrines, The collour to their Cause, hath he (and sodainely)Disarmd againe and setled in obedience, And without bloodshed, Lords, without the SwordAnd those Calamities that shake a kingdom:So gently and without noyse he has performd thisAs if he had don it in a dreame. 

_Vand_. Most certaine, He has run through a busines will much add to himAnd set his vertues of with greater Lustre:But that a man so wise as Mounseiur _Barnavelt_, So trusted, so rewarded for his Service, And one that built the ladder to his honourOf open, honest actions, strong and straight still, Should now be doubted!

_Bred_. I know not nor I wish it not, But if he have a fowle hart't has byn hid long, And cunningly that poyson has byn carried. 

_Vand_. But why a father to theis new professions?Why should he strengthen those opinionsThat all true learning much laments and greives atAnd sincks the soules sweet union into ruyn?Why theis, my lords? and why in every Garrison, Unles he had an end that shot at evill, Should he so strongly plant theis fire-brandsAnd through his powre add daylie to their nombers?

_Bred_. Most sure he is suspected, strongly suspectedBut that a man of his great trust and businesShould sinck or suffer under doubts or whispersOr loose his honour by an others envy, Is not faire play nor honest. The Prince of _Orange_, Most thinck, affects him not, nor he the Prince. That either of their angry wills should proveA lawful act to ruyn one another, And not a medium of more open Justice, More equall and more honorable, step in, Man had no powre to stand nor fall with honour. If he be falce, honest and upright proofesWill ripen the Imposture. 

 _Enter Barnavelt and his Son_. 

[1 _Lord_. [166] Here he comes, sir. ]

_Vand_. Methincks he beares not in his CountenaunceThe fulnes of that grave and constant sperit, Nor in his eye appeeres that heat and quicknesHe was wont to move withall. --Salute, and counsell:Let's leave him to his thoughts. 

_Son_. They mind ye not:Now, as I have a soule, they looke not on ye. 

_Bar_. My noble Lords, what is't appeeres upon meSo ougly strange you start and fly my Companie?What plague sore have ye spide, what taynt in honour, What ill howre in my life so cleere deservingThat rancks in this below your fellowships?For which of all my cares, of all my watches, My services (too many and too mightieTo find rewards) am I thus recompenced, Not lookd on, not saluted, left forgottenLike one that came to petition to your honours, --Over the shoulder sleighted?

_Bred_. Mounseiur _Barnavelt_, I am sorry that a man of your great wisdomAnd those rare parts that make ye lov'd and honourd, In every Princes Court highly esteemd of, Should loose so much in point of good and vertueNow in the time you ought to fix your faith fast, The creadit of your age, carelessly loose it, --I dare not say, ambitiously--that your best frends, And those that ever thought on your example, Dare not with comon safetie now salute ye. 

_Bar_. I loose in point of honour! My frends feare me!My age suspected too! now as ye are iust menUnknit this riddle. 

1 _Lord_. You are doubted, strongly doubted. 

_Bar_. O the devill. 

2 _Lord_. Your loialtie suspected. 

_Bar_. Who dare doe this?

_Bred_. We wish all well; and you that know how dangerousIn men of lesser mark theis foule attempts areAnd often have bewaild 'em in the meanest, I make no doubt will meet your owne fault sodainelyAnd chide yourself; grow faire againe and flourishIn the same full esteeme ye held and favour. 

_Bar_. And must I heare this sett downe for all my service?Is this the glorious mark of my deservings?Taynted and torne in honour must I perish, And must theis silver curles, ô you unthanckfull, Theis emblemes of my frostie cares and travellsFor you and for the State, fall with disgraces?Goe, fall before your new Prince! worship him, Fill all your throates with flattery, cry before him'Tis he, and onely he, has truly serv'd ye!Forget me and the peace I have wrought your Cuntry;Bury my memory, raze out my name, My forty yeares endeavoures write in dustThat your great Prince may blow 'em into nothing;And on my Monument (you most forgetfull)Fling all your scornes, erect an yroon-toothed envyThat she may gnaw the pious stones that hides me. 

_Vand_. Ye are too much mov'd, and now too late ye find, Sir, How naked and unsafe it is for a long GowneTo buckle with the violence of an Army. The Emperour _Traian_ challenging a yong manAnd a swift runner to try his speed against him, The Gentleman made answeare sodainelyIt was not safe nor fitt to hold contentionWith any man commaunded thirtie legions. You know the Prince and know his noble nature, I thinck you know his powre, too: of all your wisdomesThis will not show the least nor prove the meanestIn good mens eyes, I thinck, in all that know ye, To seeke his love: gentle and faire demeanoursWyn more then blowes and soften stubborne angers. Let me perswade ye. 

_Bar_. When I am a SycophantAnd a base gleaner from an others favour, As all you are that halt upon his crutches. Shame take that smoothnes and that sleeke subjection!I am myself, as great in good as he is, As much a master of my Cuntries fortunes, And one to whom (since I am forcd to speak it, Since mine owne tongue must be my Advocate)This blinded State that plaies at boa-peep with us, This wanton State that's weary of hir loversAnd cryes out "Give me younger still and fresher!"Is bound and so far bound: I found hir naked, Floung out a dores and starvd, no frends to pitty hir, The marks of all her miseries upon hir, An orphan State that no eye smild upon:And then how carefully I undertooke hir, How tenderly and lovingly I noursd hir!But now she is fatt and faire againe and I foold, A new love in hir armes, my doatings scornd at. And I must sue to him! be witnes, heaven, If this poore life were forfeyt to his mercy, At such a rate I hold a scornd subiectionI would not give a penney to redeeme it. I have liv'd ever free, onely dependedUpon the honestie of my faire Actions, Nor am I now to studdy how to die soe. 

_Bred_. Take better thoughts. 

_Bar_. They are my first and last, The legacie I leave my friends behind me. I never knew to flatter, to kneele baselyAnd beg from him a smile owes me an honour. Ye are wreatches, poore starv'd wreatches fedd on crumbsThat he flings to ye: from your owne aboundaunceWreatched and slavish people ye are becomThat feele the griping yoak and yet bow to it. What is this man, this Prince, this God ye make now, But what our hands have molded, wrought to fashion, And by our constant labours given a life to?And must we fall before him now, adoare him, Blow all we can to fill his sailes with greatnes?Worship the Image we set up ourselves?Put fate into his hand? into his willOur lives and fortunes? howle and crye to our owne clay"Be mercifull, ô Prince?" ô, pittied people!Base, base, poore patch men! You dare not heare this;You have sold your eares to slavery; begon and flatter. When ere your politick Prince putts his hooke into my noseHere must he put his Sword too. 

_Bred_. We lament ye. 

 [_Exeunt_. 

 _Enter the Son_. 

_Son_. We are undon, Sir. 

_Bar_. Why?

_Son_. For certaine perishd. _Utrecht_ is taken in, _Modesbargen_ fled, And _Leidenberge_ a Servant to their pleasures, --A prisoner, Sir. 

_Bar_. Ha!

_Son_. 'Tis too true. 

_Bar_. A prisoner?

_Son_. And, some say, has byn tortured, reveald much, Even all he knowes. No letters are against ye, For those he burnt; but they have so much foold himThat his owne tongue--

_Bar_. He cannot be so boyish. 

_Son_. My goverment of _Barghen_ is disposd of;Their anger now against us all profest, And in your ruyn all must fall. 

_Bar_. A prisoner!_Modesbargen_ fledd! I am glad he is scapt their fingers. Now if the devill had but this _Leidenberge_I were safe enough. What a dull foole was I, A stupid foole, to wrap up such a secreatIn a sheepes hart! ô I could teare my flesh nowAnd beat my leaden braines!

_Son_. Faith, try the Prince, Sir;You are at your last. 

_Bar_. Art thou my Son? thou lyest;I never got a Parasite, a Coward. I seeke the Prince or bend in base submission!Ile seeke my grave first. Yf I needes must fallAnd that the fatall howre is cast of _Barnavelt_, Just like a strong demolishd Tower ile totterAnd fright the neighbour Cuntries with my murmour. My ruyns shall reach all: the valiant Soldier, Whose eies are unacquainted but with anger, Shall weep for me because I fedd and noursd him;Princes shall mourne my losse, and this unthanckfull, Forgetful Cuntry, when I sleepe in ashes, Shall feele and then confes I was a father. 

 [_Exeunt_. 

SCAENA 2. 

 _Enter P. Of Orange, William, Bredero, Vandort, Lords, Collonells, Captaines_. 

_Bred_. Will your Excellence please to sitt?

 [_Table: Bell_. 

_Or_. I am prowd your LordshipsSo willingly restore me to that placeFrom which the envy of the AdvocateOf late hath forcd me. And that you may know, How ere his mallice live to me, all hatredIs dead in me to him, I am a SuitourHe may be sent for; for, as _Barnavelt_ isA member of this body politique, I honour him, and will not scorne to yeildA strict accompt of all my Actions to him;And, though my Enemie, while he continuesA frend to his owne fame and loyall to[167]The State, I love him and shall greive that he, When he falls from it must deserve my pitty. 

_Vand_. This disposition in your ExcellenceDo's well becom you, but would wrong our iudgementsTo call one as a partner to these counsailesThat is suspected, and ev'n then when allHis dark designes and deepest purposesAre to be sifted. 

_Bred_. It were most unfit, And therefore we entreat your Highnes to[167]Presse it no further. 

_Or_. My good lords, your pardon;You are your owne disposers. --Gentlemen, I shall a while entreat ye to forbeareThe troble that you put upon yourselvesIn following me. I can need no defence here, Being left among these whose grave counsailes everHave lookd out for my safetie. 'Tis your pleasureAnd therefore I embrace it. 

 [_Exeunt Collonells & Captaines_. 

_Vand_. Now, when you please, Your Excellence may deliver what you haveObserv'd concerning the _Arminian_ faction, What hopes and heads it had, for without questionIt found more favorers, and great ones too, Then yet we have discoverd. 

_Or_. My grave Lords, That it hath byn my happines to take in, And with so litle blood, so many TownesThat were falne of, is a large recompenceFor all my travell; and I would adviseThat (since[168] all now sing the sweet tunes of Concord, No Sword unsheathd, the meanes to hurt cut off, And all their stings pluckd out that would have used themAgainst the publique peace) we should end hereAnd not with labour search for that which willAfflict us when 'tis found. Something I knowThat I could wish I nere had understood, Which yet if I should speake, as the respectAnd duty that I owe my Cuntry binds me, It wilbe thought 'tis rather privat spleeneThen pious zeale. But that is not the hazardWhich I would shun: I rather feare the menWe must offend in this, being great, rich, wise, Sided with strong frends, trusted with the guardOf places most important, will bring forthRather new births of tumult, should they beCalld to their Triall, then appease disorderIn their iust punishment; and in doing JusticeOn three or foure that are delinquents, looseSo many thousand inocents that stand firmeAnd faithfull patriots. Let us leave them thereforeTo the scourge of their owne consciences: perhapsTh'assurance that they are yet undiscoverd, Because not cyted to their answeare, willSo work with them hereafter to doe wellThat we shall ioy we sought no farther in it. 

_Vand_. Such mild proceedings in a GovermentNew setled, whose maine strength had it's dependaunceUpon the powre of some perticuler men, Might be given way to, but in ours it wereUnsafe and scandalous: then the _Provinces_Have lost their liberties, Justice hir Sword, And we prepared a way for our owne ruynWhen for respect or favour unto any, Of what condition soever, wePalliat seditions and forbeare to callTreason by hir owne name. 

1 _Lord_. It must not be:Such mercie to ourselves were tirranie. 

2 _Lord_. Nor are we to consider who they areThat have offended, but what's the offenceAnd how it should be punishd, to deterOthers by the example. 

_Bred_. Which we will doe;And using that united powre which warrantsAll we thinck fitt, we doe intreat your Highnes(For willingly we would not say comaund you), As you affect the safetie of the StateOr to preserve your owne deserved honoursAnd never-tainted loyaltie, to make knowneAll such as are suspected. 

_Or_. I obey you;And though I cannot give up certaine proofesTo point out the delinquents, I will nameThe men the generall voice proclaimes for guiltie. _Modesbargens_ flight assures him one, nor isThe pentionary of _Roterdam_[169] _Grotius_, Free from suspition: from _Utrecht_ I have broughtThe Secretarie _Leidenberge_, who hathConfest alredy something that will give usLight to find out the rest. I would end hereAnd leave out _Barnavelt_. 

_Bred_. If he be guiltieHe's to be nam'd and punishd with the rest. 

_Vand_. Upon good evidence, but not till thenTo be committed. 

_Will_. 'Twer expedientThat something should be practisd to bring in_Modesbargen_. Out of him the truth of allMay be wroong out. 

_Bred_. The advice is sound and good. 

_Vand_. But with much difficultie to be performd;For how to force him out of _Germanie_(Whether they say hee's fledd) without a war, At least the breaking of that league we haveConcluded with them, I ingeniouslyConfes my ignoraunce. 

_Or_. Since you approve it, Leave that to me. 

 _Enter Officer_[170]

_Off_. My lord. 

_Or_. Call in the CaptaineYou saw me speake with at the dore. 

_Off_. 'Tis don. [_Exit_. 

_Bred_. What does your Excellence ayme at?

_Or_. Have but patience, You shall know sodainely. 

 _Enter Captaine_. [171]

_Cap_. My good Angell keepe meAnd turne it to the best. --What am I sent for?

_Or_. You are wellcom, Captaine; nay 'tis for your goodThat you are calld for. You are well acquaintedWith all the parts of _Germanie_?

_Cap_. I have livd there. Most of my time. 

_Or_. But doe you know the CastleBelonging to _Modesbargens_ Aunt or Cosen, --Which 'tis I know not?

_Cap_. Very well, my Lord;A pleasant Cuntry 'tis, and yeilds good hunting. 

_Bred_. And that's a sport _Modesbargen_ from his youthWas much inclind to. 

_Or_. Wee'll make use of it. It is of waight that you must undertake, And does require your secrecie and care. 

_Cap_. In both I wilbe faithfull. 

_Or_. I beleeve you;And, to confirme it, with all possible speedI would have you to post thether: from the BordersMake choice of any horsemen you thinck fitt, And, when you come there, devide them into partiesAnd lodge neere to the Castle. Yf _Modesbargen_Come forth to hunt, or if at any timeYou find the draw-bridge up, break in upon himAnd willing or unwilling force him hether. You shall have gold to furnish you, and this donPropose your owne rewards, they shalbe graunted. 

_Cap_. Yf I be wanting let my head pay for it;Ile instantly about it. [_Exit_. 

_Or_. Doe, and prosper. 

_Will_. What will you do with _Leidenberge_?

_Bred_. Let him beKept safe a while: for _Barnavelt_, till we haveSome certaine proofes against him, I hold fittHe have his libertie, but be suspendedFrom any place or voice in Court untillHis guilt or inocence appeere. 

_Vand_. I like it. 

_Lords_. We are all of your opinion. 

_Or_. Bring in _Leidenberch_. 

 _Enter Leidenberch, Boy, Guard_. 

_Boy_. Doe all theis, father, wayt on you?

_Leid_. Yes, Boy. 

_Boy_. Indeed I doe not like their Countenaunces;They looke as if they meant you litle good. Pray you, put them away. 

_Leid_. Alas, poore inocent, It is for thee I suffer; for my selfI have set up my rest. 

_Or_. Now, Mounseiur _Leidenberch_, We send not for you, though your fault deserve it, To load you with reproofe, but to advise youTo make use of the way we have found outTo save your life and honour. You already, In free confession of your fault, have madeA part of satisfaction; goe on in it, And you shall find a faire discoveryOf youre fowle purposes and th'agents in 'emWill wyn more favour from theyr lordships to youThen any obstinate deniall can doe. 

_Leid_. All that I know I will deliver to you, And beyond that your Excellence nor their LordshipsWill not, I hope, perswade me. 

_Vand_. In the meane timeYou are a prisoner. 

_Boy_. Who? my father?

_Bred_. Yes, Boy. 

_Boy_. Then I will be a prisoner, too. For heaven sakeLet me goe with him, for theis naughtie menWill nere wayt on him well. I am usd to undresse himWhen he's to goe to bed, and then read to himUntill he be a sleepe, and then pray by him:I will not leave him. 

_Bred_. Why, thou shalt not, Boy. Goe with thy father. 

_Boy_. You are a good Lord, Indeed I love you for't and will pray for you. Come, father; now I must goe too, I care not. While I am with you, you shall have no hurt, Ile be your warrant. 

_Leid_. I have lost myself, But something I shall doe. 

 [_Exeunt Leid. , Boy, Guard_. 

_Or_. 'Tis time to rise;And, if your Lordshipps please, we will deferOur other busines to an other sitting. 

_Vand_. In the meane time wee'll use all honest meanesTo sound the depth of this Confederacie, In which Heaven's hand direct us and assist us. 

 [_Exeunt_. 

SCAENA 3. 

 _Enter 2 Captaines_. [172]

1 _Cap_. This is a strange cutting time. 

2 _Cap_. Let 'em cutt deep enough, They will doe no great cure els. I wonder strangelyThey carry such a gentle hand on _Leidenberch_That any frends come to him. 

1 _Cap_. 'Has confest much, Beleeve it, and so far they feare him not, They would be els more circumspect. 

2 _Cap_. Pray ye, tell me, Is there no further newes of those are fledd, --I meane those fellow Instruments?

1 _Cap_. None as yet, --At least divulgd abroad. But certenlyThe wise States are not idle, neither at this timeDo's it concerne their safeties. We shall heare shortlyMore of theis monsters. 

2 _Cap_. Let's to dynner, Sir;There we shall heare more newes. 

1 _Cap_. Ile beare ye companie. 

 [_Exeunt_. 

SCAENA 4. 

 _Enter Barnavelt & Provost_. 

_Bar_. And how doth he take his imprisonment, _Mr. Provost_?

_Pro_. A litle discontent, and't please your Lordship, And sad as men confind. 

_Bar_. He does not talke much?

_Pro_. Litle or nothing, Sir. 

_Bar_. Nor wrighte?

_Pro_. Not any thing, Yet I have charge to give him those free uses. 

_Bar_. Doe you keep him close?

_Pro_. Not so close, and't like your Lordship, But you may see and speake with him. 

_Bar_. I thanck ye. 

_Pro_. Pray ye give me leave; Ile send him to your Honour. [_Exit_. 

_Bar_. Now, _Barnavelt_, thou treadst the subtlest path, The hardest and the thorniest, most concernes thee, That ere thy carefull course of life run through:The Master peece is now a foot, which if it speedAnd take but that sure hold I ayme it at, I make no doubt but once more, like a Comet, To shine out faire and blaze prodigiouslyEven to the ruyn of those men that hate me. 

 _Enter Leidenberch_. 

--I am sorry for your fortune. 

_Leid_. 'Tis a sad oneAnd full of burthen, but I must learne to beare it. How stands your State?

_Bar_. Upon a ball of yceThat I can neither fix, nor fall with safetie. 

_Leid_. The heavie hand of heaven is now upon usAnd we exposd, like bruizd and totterd vessells, To merciles and cruell Seas to sinck us. 

_Bar_. Our Indiscreations are our evill fortunes, And nothing sincks us but [our] want of providence. O you delt coldly, Sir, and too too poorely, Not like a man fitt to stem tides of dangers, When you gave way to the Prince to enter _Utrecht_. There was a blow, a full blow at our fortunes;And that great indiscreation, that mayne blindnes, In not providing such a constant Captaine, One of our owne, to commaund the watch, but sufferThe haughtie _English_ to be masters of it, --This was not well nor fitting such a wisdom, Not provident. 

_Leid_. I must confes my errour;The beastly coldnes of the drowsy BurgersPut me past all my aymes. 

_Bar_. O, they are sweet Jewells!He that would put his confidence in Turnops[173]And pickled Spratts--Come, yet resume your Courage, Pluck up that leaden hart and looke upon mee;_Modesbargen's_ fledd, and what we lockt in himToo far of from their subtle keys to open, Yf we stand constant now to one anotherAnd in our soules be true. 

_Leid_. That comes too late, Sir, Too late to be redeemd: as I am unfortunateIn all that's gone before, in this--

_Bar_. What?

_Leid_. O, In this, this last and greatest--

_Bar_. Speake. 

_Leid_. Most miserable. I have confessd. Now let your eies shoot through meAnd if there be a killing anger sinck me. 

_Bar_. Confessd!

_Leid_. 'Tis done: this traitor tongue has don it, This coward tongue. 

_Bar_. Confessd!

_Leid_. He lookes me blind now. 

_Bar_. How I could cursee thee, foole, despise thee, spurne thee, But thou art a thing not worthie of mine anger. A frend! a dog: a whore had byn more secreat, A common whore a closer Cabinet. Confest! upon what safety, thou trembling aspyn, Upon what hope? Is there ought left to buoy usBut our owne confidence? What frends now follow us, That have the powre to strike of theis misfortunes, But our owne constant harts? Where were my eies, My understanding, when I tooke unto meA fellow of thy falce hart for a frend?Thy melting mind! foold with a few faire wordsSuffer those secreats that concerne thy life, In the Revealer not to be forgiven too, To be pluckt from thy childes hart with a promise, A nod, a smile! thyself and all thy fortunesThrough thy base feare made subject to example!Nor will the shott stay there, but with full violenceRun through the rancke of frends, disperse and totterThe best and fairest hopes thy fame was built on. 

_Leid_. What have I done, how am I foold and cozend!What shall redeeme me from this Ignoraunce!

_Bar_. Not any thing thou aymst at, thou art lost:A most unpittied way thou falst. 

_Leid_. Not one hopeTo bring me of? nothing reservd to cleere meFrom this cold Ignoraunce?

_Bar_. But one way left, But that thy base feare dares not let thee look on;And that way will I take, though it seeme steepeAnd every step stuck with affrights and horrours, Yet on the end hangs smyling peace and honour, And I will on. 

_Leid_. Propound and take[174] me with ye. 

_Bar_. Dye uncompelld, and mock their preparations, Their envyes and their Justice. 

_Leid_. Dye?

_Bar_. Dye willingly, Dye sodainely and bravely: So will I:Then let 'em sift our Actions from our ashes. I looke to-morrow to be drawne before 'em;And doe you thinck, I, that have satt a JudgeAnd drawne the thred of life to what length I pleasd, Will now appeare a Prisoner in the same place?Tarry for such an ebb? No, _Leidenberch_:The narrowest dore of death I would work through firstEre I turne Slave to stick their gawdy triumphes. 

_Leid_. Dye, did you say? dye wilfully?

_Bar_. Dye any way, Dye in a dreame: he that first gave us honoursAllowes us also safe waies to preserve 'em, To scape the hands of infamy and tirrany. We may be our owne Justice: he that losesHis Creadit (deere as life) through doubt or faintnessIs guilty of a doble death, his name dies;He is onely pious that preserves his heireHis honour when he's dead. 

_Leid_. 'Tis no great paine. 

_Bar_. 'Tis nothing:Imagination onely makes it monstrous. When we are sick we endure a hundred fitts, This is but one; a hundred waies of torture, And cry and howle, weary of all about us, Our frends, allyes, our children teadious to us, Even our best health is but still sufferaunce. One blow, one short peece of an howre dos this, And this cures all; maintaines no more phisitians, Restores our memories, and there's the great cure, Where, if we stay the fatall Sword of Justice, It moawes the man downe first, and next his fashion, His living name, his creadit. 

_Leid_. Give me your hand, Sir;You have put me in a path I will tread strongly;Redeeme what I have lost, and that so nobelyThe world shall yet confes at least I lovd ye. How much I smile at now theis peoples mallice!Dispise their subtle ends, laugh at their Justice!And what a mightie Prince a constant man is!How he can set his mind aloft, and looke atThe bussings and the busines of the spightfull, And crosse when ere he please all their close weavings. Farwell, my last farwell. 

_Bar_. A long farwell, Sir. 

_Leid_. Our bodies are the earthes, that's their dyvorsse:But our immortall names shall twyn togeather. 

_Bar_. Thus tread we backward to our graves;--but faint not. 

_Leid_. Fooles onely fly their peace: thus I pursue it. 

 [_Exeunt_. 

SCAENA 5. 

 _Enter Grotius & Hogerbeets_. 

_Gro_. They have arrested him, _Hogerbeets_?

_Hog_. Yes;That you all know, _Grotius_, they did at _Utrich_, But since they have with more severitieAnd scorne of us proceeded. Monsieur _Barnavelt_Walkes with a thousand eies and guards upon him, And has at best a painted libertie;Th'Appollogie he wroat so poorely raild at, (For answeard at no part a man can call it)And all his life and Actions so detracted, That he, as I am certenly informed, Lookes every howre for worsse. 

_Gro_. Come, come, they dare not, Or if they should I will not suffer it;I that have without dread ever maintaindThe freedom I was borne to, against allThat ever have provoakd me, will not feareWhat this old Grave or the new Prince of _Orange_Dare undertake beyond this, but will rise upAnd if he lay his hands on _Barnavelt_, His Court, our Guift, and where the generall StatesOur equalls sit ile fry[175] about their earesAnd quench it in their blood. What now I speakeAgaine ile speake alowd; let who will tell it, I never will fly from it. 

_Hog_. What you purposeI will not fly from. 

_Gro_. Back you then to _Leyden_, Ile keep at _Roterdam_: there if he fetch meIle nere repent whatever can fall on me. 

 [_Exeunt_. 

SCAENA 6. 

 _Enter Leidenberch & Boy_. 

_Boy_. Shall I help you to bed, Sir, [_Taper, pen & inke: Table_. 

_Leid_. No, my Boy, not yet. 

_Boy_. 'Tis late and I grow sleepie. 

_Leid_. Goe to bed then, For I must wryte, my Childe. 

_Boy_. I had rather watch, Sir, If you sitt up, for I know you will wake me. 

_Leid_. Indeed I will not; goe, I have much to doe;Prethee to bed; I will not waken thee. 

_Boy_. Pray, Sir, leave wryting till to morrow. 

_Leid_. Why, Boy?

_Boy_. You slept but ill last night, and talkd in your sleep, too;Tumbled and tooke no rest. 

_Leid_. I ever doe soe. Good Boy, to bed; my busines is of waightAnd must not be deferrd: good night, sweet Boy. 

_Boy_. My father was not wont to be so kindTo hug me and to kisse me soe. 

_Leid_. Why do'st thou weep?

_Boy_. I cannot tell, but sure a tendernes, Whether it be with your kind words unto meOr what it is, has crept about my hart, Sir, And such a sodaine heavynes withall, too. 

_Leid_. --Thou bringst fitt mourners for my funerall. 

_Boy_. But why do you weep, father?

_Leid_. O, my Boy, Thy teares are dew-drops, sweet as those on roses, But mine the faint and yron sweatt of sorrow. Prethee, sweet Child, to bed; good rest dwell with thee, And heaven returne a blessing: that's my good Boy. [_Exit boy_. --How nature rises now and turnes me womanWhen most I should be man! Sweet hart, farewell, Farewell for ever. When we get us childrenWe then doe give our freedoms up to fortuneAnd loose that native courage we are borne to. To dye were nothing, --simply to leave the light;No more then going to our beds and sleeping;But to leave all these dearnesses behind us, These figures of our selves that we call blessings, Is that which trobles. Can man beget a thingThat shalbe deerer then himself unto him?--Tush, _Leidenberch_: thinck what thou art to doe;Not to play _Niobe_ weeping ore her Children, Unles that _Barnavelt_ appeere againeAnd chide thy dull-cold nature. --He is fast: [_Son abed_. Sleepe on, sweet Child, the whilst thy wreatched fatherPrepares him to the yron sleepe of death. Or is death fabled out but terrableTo fright us from it? or rather is there notSome hid _Hesperides_, some blessed fruitesMoated about with death. Thou soule of _Cato_, And you brave _Romaine_ speritts, famous moreFor your true resolutions on yourselvesThen Conquest of the world, behold, and see meAn old man and a gowne man, with as much hastAnd gladnes entertaine this steele that meetes meAs ever longing lover did his mistris. --So, so; yet further; soe. 

_Boy within_. Oh!

_Leid_. Sure the Boy wakesAnd I shalbe prevented. 

_Boy_. Now heaven blesse me. O me, O me!

_Leid_. He dreames and starts with frightings. I bleed apace but cannot fall: tis here;This will make wider roome. Sleep, gentle Child, And do not looke upon thy bloody father, Nor more remember him then fitts thy fortune. --Now shoot your spightes, now clap on all your councells;Here is a constant frend will not betray me. I, now I faint; mine eies begin to huntFor that they have lost for ever, this worldes beutie--O oh, ô oh! my long sleepe now has ceizd me. 

 _Enter Boy_. 

_Boy_. I heard him groane and cry; I heard him fall sure. O, there he lyes in his owne blood! ô father, O my deare father, dead and bequeathd no blessing!Why did I goe to bed, why was I heavy?O, I will never sleep againe. The house there!You that are verteous rise! you that have fathers!Ho, Master _Provost_! ô my deerest father. Some Surgeons, Surgeons!

 _Enter Provost & Servts_. 

_Prov_. 'Twas the Boyes voice, certaine. 

_Ser_. What bloody sight is this? 'has killd himself:Dead, stone-cold dead; he needs no art of Surgeons. 

_Prov_. Take of the Boy. 

_Boy_. O let me dwell here ever. 

_Prov_. This was a fatall stroak, to me a heavy, For my remissnes wilbe loaden with it. Bring in the Boy; ile to the State instantly;Examine all the wounds and keep the knives;The Boy fast too, --may be he knowes some circumstance. 

_Boy_. O that I never knew againe. 

_Prov_. In with it. 

 [_Exeunt_. 

Actus Quartus. 

SCAENA PRIMA. 

 _Enter Captaine[176] and Soldiers_. 

_Cap_. Are the Horses left where I appointed 'em, And all the Soldiers ready?

_Sold_. They are all, Captaine. 

_Cap_. 'Tis well: _Modesbargen_ is abroad, for certaine, Hunting this morning. 

_Sold_. Tis most likely, Sir;For round about the Castle, since the dawning, We have heard the merry noyse of hornes. 

_Cap_. Dispeirce then, Except some three or foure to watch the CastleLeast he break in againe. What CompanyHave ye discoverd that attends him?

_Sold_. Few, Sir:I do not thinck he has five within the fort nowAble to make resistaunce. 

_Cap_. Let 'em be twentyWe are strong enough to fright 'em; and by all meanesLet those that stay seek by some trick or otherTo make the Bridge good, that they draw it notIf he returne upon us. 

_Sold_. With all care, Sir. [_Exeunt. --Hornes_. 

 _Enter Modes-bargen & Huntsmen_[177]. 

_Mod_. The doggs have hunted well this dewy morning, And made a merry cry. 

1 _Hunt_. The Hare was rotten[178];You should have heard els such a rore, and seene 'emMake all hir dobles out with such neat huntingAnd run at such a merry rate togeather, They should have dapled ore your bay with fome, Sir. 

_Mod_. 'Tis very well, and so well I affect itThat I could wish I had nere hunted afterAny delight but this, nor sought more honour. This is securely safe, drawes on no danger, Nor is this Chace crost with malignant envy. How sweatly do I live and laugh uponThe perrills I have past, the plotts and traynes!And now (methincks) I dare securely looke onThe steepe and desprat follyes my indiscretionLike a blind careles foole had allmost cast me on. Here I stand saffe 'gainst all their strengths and Stratagems:I was a boy, a foole to follow _Barnavelt_, To step into his attempts, to wedd my freedomTo his most dangerous faction, a meere Coxcomb;But I have scapd their clawes. --Have ye found more game?

 _Enter 2 Huntesmen_[179]. 

2 _Hunt_. Beating about to find a new Hare, we discoverd--

_Mod_. Discoverd what?

2 _Hunt_. Horsemen, and't please ye, Sir, Scowt round about us, and which way still the doggs wentThey made up within view. 

_Mod_. Look't they like Soldiers?

2 _Hunt_. For certaine they are Soldiers; for if theis are eyesI saw their pistolls. 

_Mod_. Many?

2 _Hunt_. Some half a score, Sir. 

_Mod_. I am betraide: away and raise the Boores up, Bid 'em deale manfully. 

1 _Hunt_. Take a close way homeAnd clap your spurres on roundly. 

_Mod_. No place safe for me!This Prince has long armes, and his kindled angerA thousand eyes--Make hast and raise the Cuntry. 

 [_Exeunt_. 

 _Enter Captn & Soldiers_. 

_Cap_. This was a narrow scape; he was ith' feild, sure. 

_Sold_. Yes, that was certaine he that ridd of by us, When we stood close ith' brakes. 

_Cap_. A devill take it!How are we cozend! pox of our goodly providence!If he get home or if the Cuntry know it!

_Sold_. Make haste, he is yet unmand: we may come time enoughTo enter with him. Besides there's this advantage:They that are left behind, instead of helpingA Boores Cart ore the Bridge, loden with hay, Have crackt the ax-tree with a trick, and there it standsAnd choakes the Bridge from drawing. 

_Cap_. There's some hope yet. Away and clap on spurs: he shall scape hardlyIf none of us salute him. Mounte, mounte. 

 [_Exeunt_. 

 _Enter Modesbargen & Huntesmen_. 

_Mod_. Hell take this hay! 'tis set on purpose here:Fire it and draw the Bridge: clap faggotts on'tAnd fire the Cart and all. No Boores come in yet?Where be your Musketts, Slaves?

_Hunt_. We have no powder, Sir. 

_Mod_. You have sold me, Rogues, betrayd me: fire the Cart, I say, Or heave it into th' Moat. 

_Hunt_. We have not men enough. Will ye goe in? the Cuntry will rise presently, And then you shall see, Sir, how wee'll buckle with 'em. 

_Mod_. I see I am undon: the[180] hay choakes all, I cannot get beside it. 

 _Enter Captaine & Soldiers_. 

_Cap_. Stir not a foote, For he that do's has mett his preist. --Goe, ceize his body, But hurt him not. You must along with us, Sir:We have an easie nag will swym away with ye, --You ghesse the cause, I am sure. When you are ith' saddle once, Let your Boores loose; we'll show 'em such a baste. Do not deiect yourself nor rayle at fortune;They are no helpes: thincke what you have to answeare. 

_Mod_. Captaine, within this Castle in ready coyneI have a thousand ducketts: doe me one curtesie, It shalbe brought out presently. 

_Cap_. What is it?For I have use of money. 

_Mod_. Doe but shoot me, Clap both your Pistolls into me. 

_Cap_. No, I thanck ye, I know a trick worth ten o'that: ile love yeAnd bring ye to those men that love to see ye. Away, away; and keepe your pistolls spand still:We may be forced. 

_Mod_. I am undon for ever. 

 [_Exeunt_. 

SCAENA 2. 

 _Enter Orange, Bredero, Vandort_. 

_Bred_. Is't possible he should be so far tempted[181]To kill himself?

_Vand_. 'Has don it and most desperately, Nor could strong nature stay his hand, --his owne ChildThat slept beside him: which showes him guilty, lords, More then we suspected. 

_Or_. 'Tis to be feard soeAnd therefore, howsoere I movd your lordshipsTo a mild and sweet proceeding in this busines, That nothing might be construde in't malitiousAnd make the world believe our owne ends wrought it, Now it concernes ye to put on more strictnesAnd with seveerer eyes to looke into it:Ye robb yourselves of your owne rightes els, Justice, And loose those pious names your Cuntries safeties. And sodainely this must be don and constantly:The powrs ye hold els wilbe scornd & laughd at, And theis unchristian stroakes be laid to your charge. 

_Bred_. Your Grace goes right; but with what generall safetie(For ther's the mayne point), if we proceed seveerelyMay this be don? We all know how much followedAnd with what swarmes of love this Mounsieur _Barnavelt_Is courted all the Cuntry over. Besides, at _Leyden_We heare how _Hogerbeets_ behaves himself, And how he stirrs the peoples harts against us. And _Grotius_ has byn heard to say, and openly, (A man of no meane mark nor to be slighted)That if we durst imprison _Barnavelt_He would fire the Court and State-house, and that SacrifizeHe would make more glorious with your blood and ours, Sir. 

_Vand_. All angers are not armd; the lowdest ChannellRuns shallowest, and there betrayes his weaknes:The deep & silent man threatens the danger. 

_Or_. If they had equall powre to man their willsAnd hope, to fling their miseries upon us, I that nere feard an Army in the feild, A body of most choice and excellent SoldiersAnd led by Captaines honourd for experience:Can I feare them or shake at their poore whispers?I that have broke the beds of MuteniesAnd bowde againe to faire obedienceThose stubborne necks that burst the raynes of order, Shall I shrinck now and fall, shot with a rumour?No, my good Lords, those vollyes never fright me;Yet, not to seeme remisse or sleep secure here, I have taken order to prevent their angers;I have sent Patents[182] out for the choicest CompaniesHether to be remov'd: first, Collonell _Veres_From _Dort_; next Sir _Charles Morgans_, a stowt Company;And last my Cosens, the Count _Ernests_ Company:With theis I doubt not to make good our busines;They shall not find us babes. 

_Bred_. You are nobely provident. 

_Vand_. And now proceed when it please you, and what you thinck fitWe shall subscribe to all. 

_Or_. I thanck your Honours. Call in the Captaine of my Guard. 

_Serv_. Hee's here, Sir. 

 _Enter Captaine_. 

_Or_. Harck in your eare. 

_Cap_. I shall, Sir. 

_Or_. Doe it wiselyAnd without tumult. 

_Cap_. I observe your Grace. 

_Or_. Now take your rest, my lords: for what care followesLeave it to me. 

_All_. We wish it all succes, Sir. 

 [_Exeunt_. 

SCAENA 3. 

 _Enter Barnavelt (in his studdy)_. 

_Bar_. This from the King of _Fraunce_, of much importance, And this from _Englands_ Queene, both mightie PrincesAnd of immortall memories: here the Rewards sett, --They lou'd me both. The King of _Swechland_ this, About a Truyce; his bounty, too. What's this?From the Elector Palatine of _Brandenburge_, To doe him faire and acceptable offices:I did so; a rich iewell and a chaine he sent me. The Count of _Solems_, and this from his faire CountessAbout compounding of a busines:I did it and I had their thancks. Count _Bentham_, The Archbishop of _Cullen_, Duke of _Brunswick_, Grave _Embden_: theis from Citties, theis from Provinces;Petitions theis; theis from the States for places. Have I held correspondence with theis Princes, And had their loves, the molding of their busines, Trusted with their most secreat purposes?Of every State acquainted with the misteries?And must I stick here now, stick unreleevd, too?Must all theis glories vanish into darknes, And _Barnavelt_ passe with 'em and glide awayLike a spent exhalation? I cannot hold;I am crackt too deepe alredy. What have I donI cannot answeare? Foole! remember notFame has too many eares and eyes to find thee!What help, ô miserable man? none left thee. What constant frends? 'tis now a cryme to know thee... ... ... Be death. 

 _Enter Servant_. 

_Serv_. My Lady would entreat, Sir--

_Bar_. My head? What art thou? from whom sent?

_Serv_. Heaven blesse me!

_Bar_. Are they so greedy of my blood?--O, pardon me:I know thee now; thou art my honest Servant. What would thy Lady?

_Serv_. Your Company to supper, Sir. 

_Bar_. I cannot eate; I am full alredy, tell hir:Bid hir sitt downe: full, full, too full. [_Exit Serv_. My thancksPoyzd equally with those faire servicesI have done the States, I should walk confidentlyUpon this high-straind danger. O, this end swayes me, A heavy bad opinion is fixt hereThat pulls me of; and I must downe for ever. 

 _Enter Daughter_[183]

_Daught_. Sir, will it please ye--

_Bar_. Ha!

_Daught_. Will it please ye, Sir--

_Bar_. Please me! what please me?--that I send thee, Girle, To some of my great Masters to beg for me. Didst thou meane so?

_Daught_. I meane, Sir--

_Bar_. Thou art too charitableTo prostitute thy beutie to releeve me;With thy soft kisses to redeeme from fettersThe stubborne fortune of thy wretched father. 

_Daught_. I understand ye not. 

_Bar_. I hope thou do'st not. 

_Daught_. My Lady Mother, Sir--

_Bar_. Prethee, good Girle, Be not so cruell to thy aged fatherTo somme up all his miseries before him. 

_Daught_. I come, Sir, to entreat your Company. 

_Bar_. I am not alone. 

_Daught_. My Mother will not eate, Sir. --What fitt is this!

_Bar_. There can be no attonement:I know the Prince: _Vandort_ is fleshd upon me, And _Bredero_, though he be of noble nature, Dare not step in. Wher's my Son _William_?His Goverment is gon, too; and the Soldier, O, the falce Soldier! What! wouldst thou have a husband?Goe, marry an English Captaine, and hee'll teach theeHow to defy thy father and his fortune. --I cannot eate; I have no stomach, Girle. 

_Daught_. Good Sir, be patient. 

_Bar_. No news from _Grotius_?No flow of frends there? _Hoger-beets_ lye still, too?--Away: ile come anon. 

_Daught_. Now heaven preserve ye! [_Exit_. 

_Bar_. A gentle Girle: why should not I pray, too?I had nere more need. When I am sett and gon, What understanding can they stick up thenTo fill the place I bore? None, not a man:To traffick with Great Princes? none: to dealeWith all the trobles of the war? None, certaine, no man:To bring in daylie treasure? I know no man;They cannot pick a man made up to serve 'em. Why should I feare then? doubt, and fly beforeMyne owne weake thoughts?--Art thou there, too?

 _Enter Wife[184] and Daughter_. 

_Wife_. Fy, fy, Sir:Why do you suffer theis sad dead retirementsTo choake your speritts? You have studied long enoughTo serve the uses of those men that scorne ye;'Tis time you take your ease now. 

_Bar_. I shall shortly;An everlasting ease, I hope. 

_Wife_. Why weep ye, My deere Sir? speak. 

_Bar_. Never till now unhappie!Thy fruit there and my fall ripen togeatherAnd fortune gives me heires of my disgraces. 

_Wife_. Take nobler thoughts. 

_Bar_. What will becom of thee, Wiffe, When I am gon? When they have gorgd their enviesWith what I have, what honest hand in pittyWill powre out to thy wants? What noble eyeWill looke upon my Children strooke with miserieAnd say 'you had a father that I honourd;For his sake be my Brothers and my Sisters. '

_Wife_. There cannot be such crueltie. 

_Bar_. I hope not;Yet what so confident Sailour that heares the Sea rore, The winds sing lowd and dreadfull, the day darkend, But he will cry 'a storme'! downe with his CanvasAnd hull, expecting of that horrid feavour?

 _Enter Son_. 

--How now? What newes?

_Son_. Plucke up your hart, Sir, fairelyAnd wither not away thus poorely from us;Be now secure: the myst ye feard is vanishd, --_Leidenberch's_ dead. 

_Bar_. Dead?

_Son_. Killd himself; his owne handMost bravely was his Justice; nor left behind himOne peece of paper to dishonour ye. They are all to seeke now for their Accusations. 

_Bar_. And is he dead? so timely, too? so truly?Speak't againe, _Will_?

_Son_. Hee's dead, Sir, if I live here. 

_Bar_. And his owne hand?

_Son_. His hand and will performd it. 

_Bar_. Give me some wyne. I find now, notwithstanding [_Enter Servant with wine_. The opposition of those mindes that hate me, A wise-man spyns his owne fate and secures it. Nor can I, that have powre to perswade men dye, Want living frends to iustifie my Creadit. Goe in and get me meat now; invyte my frends, I am determind to be high and merry. Thou hast lost thy Charge; wee'll have another, _Will_;It shall goe hard els. The Prince of _Orange_ nowWill find what frends I have, and of what reckning;And when he seekes this life, he must make passageThrough thousands more and those he little dreames of. 

_Son_. I wonder how he got that speritt, Sir, to dye soe?

_Bar_. He was a weak man, indeed, but he has redeemd it:There be some other I could wish of his mind. Do'st thinck they dare doe any thing now. 

_Son_. 'Troth, I thinck not, Sir. 

_Bar_. No, Boy, I warrant thee; they make great soundes, But mark what followes. Prethee, let's be merry, I want it much. 

_Son_. I am glad to see you so, Sir. 

 _Enter Servant_. 

_Bar_. I cannot be above two daies from Councell, I know their wants. How now, what haste?

_Serv_. O, Sir, ye are undon;We have lost ye. 

_Bar_. Ha!

_Serv_. For ever lost ye. 

_Bar_. Why?

[_Serv_. ] The Captaine of the Guard, the Princes Captaine--

_Bar_. Where? how?

 _Enter Wife & Daughter_. 

_Serv_. Is broken in now upon us. 

_Wife_. He will not be denyde. O, my deare Husband!The cruell Princes Captaine!

 [_Captaine within_. 

_Cap_. Ope the dore;Wee'll force it els, and all that dare resist usWee'll put to th'Sword. 

_Bar_. Open the dore: farewell, Wiffe;Goe to the French Embassadour presently;There's all my hope. To him make knowne my misery, Wooe him with teares, with praires: this kisse; be happie. 

_Wife_. O, we shall never see ye more!

 [_Exeunt Wife and Daughter_. 

 _Enter Captaine & others_. 

_Bar_. Away!--You Instrument of blood, why doe ye seeke us?I have knowne the day you have wayted like a suppliantAnd those knees bended as I past. Is there no reverenceBelonging to me left now, that like a RuffianRudely ye force my lodgings? No punishmentDue to a cryme of that fowle nature?

_Cap_. You must pardon me, I have commission, Sir, for what I offer, And from those men that are your Masters, too;At least you'll find 'em soe. You must shift your lodging, And presently: I have a charge to see yeYeild yourself quietly. 

_Bar_. Goe and tell their LordshipsI will attend to-morrow. I know my timeAnd how to meet their mallice without guards. This is the Prince, the cruell Prince your Master, The thirstie Prince of this poore Life. 

_Cap_. Be not vext;That will not help ye, Sir. 

_Bar_. I wilbe vext, And such an anger I will fling amongst 'emShall shake the servile soules of these poore wretchesThat stick his slight deservings above mine. I charge ye draw your Guard off and disperce 'em:I have a powre as full as theirs. 

_Cap_. You'll find not;And I must have ye with me. 

_Bar_. And am I subiectThat have stood the brunt of all their busines, And when they slept watcht to secure their slombers, --Subiect to slights, to scornes, to taynts, to tortures?To feed one privat mallice am I betrayd?Myne age, myne honour and my honest dealingSold to the hangmans Sword?

_Cap_. I cannot stay. 

_Bar_. Take meAnd glory in my blood, you most ungratefull;Feed your long bloody hopes and bath your angersIn _Barnavelts_ deservings; share my Services;Let it be death to pitty me; to speak well of me, The ruyn of whole famylies. When I am gonAnd angry war againe shall ceize your Cuntry, Too late remember then and cursse your follyes. --I am ready. Farwell, Son; remember meBut not my fortune; let them cry that shall want me. 

_Cap_. No man come neere on paine of death: away with him. 

 [_Exeunt_. 

SCAENA 4. 

 _Enter Orange & 1 Captaine_. [185]

_Cap_. And as I told your Highnes, so wee tooke him. 

_Or_. 'Twas with discretion and valour followd. You were not noted as you made entraunceInto the _Hague_?

_Cap_. No, Sir; 'twas about midnight, And few were stirring but the Guard. 

_Or_. The better. Let his being brought in be still conceald, and tell himIf uncompelld he will confes the truthAt _Barnavelts_ Arraignement, that all favourThat I can wyn him shall prepare a wayTo quallifie his fault. 

_Cap_. Ile work him to itAnd doubt not. 

 _Enter Burgers & Women with bowghs & flowres_. 

_Cap_. 'Tis Kramis[186]-time, In which it is a custome with the peopleTo deck their dores with Garlonds, Bowghes, and flowresThat are most gratious. 

_Or_. I remember. --Stand close. 

[1] _Burg_. Strew, strew: more Garlonds and more Flowres. Up with the Bowghes! Sacramant, I will haveMy noble frends house, Mounseiur _Barnavelts_, As well deckt as his Excellencies Court, For though they have got him in prison he deservesAs well as any. 

_Cap_. Mark you that. 

2 _Burg_. 'Tis saidThey will cutt of his head. 

1 _Burg_. Much![187] with a Cusshin!They know he has too many frends. 

[2] _Burg_. They dare not. People will talke: I hope ere long to see himAs great as ever. 

[1] _Burg_. Greater too, I doubt not, And of more powre; his feet upon the necksOf all his Enemies. 

_Or_. I am glad I heard this;And _Barnavelt_ shall feele I will make use oft. Come; follow me. [_Exeunt_. 

2 _Burg_. So, now the merry SongWe made for his good Lady. Lustique, [188] hoa!

 [Song. 

 _Enter Wife above_. 

_Wife_. All thancks, kind frends, that a sad house can give yePray you receive; for I rest well assurd, Though theis sports are unseasonable here, They testifie your loves; and, if my LordEre live to be himself againe, I knowHe will remember it. 

1 _Burg_. Now for the Daunce, Boyes. 

_Wife_. Ther's something for your paines: drinck it, I pray. 

2 _Burg_. To a doyt, my vroa, to thy Lords health and thyne. The Bree[189] for his Excellencie and the HeeresThat love him not. Ten hundred thousand blessingsTo him and thee, my vroa. [_Daunce_. 

_Wife_. I thanck you, frend. [_Exeunt_. 

SCAENA 5. 

 _Enter Orange, Bredero, Vandort, William, Lords. [Table_. 

_Vand_. Let him be sent for presently: he shall know, [_A Bar brought in_. Were he ten times more popular, his frendsAnd flatterers Centuple, the Sword of JusticeShall fall on him as on the meanest manSince he deserves it. 

 _Enter Provost, Captaines & Guard with Barnavelt_. 

_Pro_. Make roome for the Prisoner. 

_Bar_. My dutie to your Highnes and theis PrincesAnd an increase of wisdome to your Lordships, For which the world admires you, I wish to you. Alas, what troble do's a weake old man, (That is, being out of all imployment, useles)The bag of his deserts, too, cast behind you, Impose upon this Senat? My poore life(Which others envy makes your InstrumentsTo fight against) will hardly be a ConquestWorthie such great performers. 

_Vand_. Mounseiur _Barnavelt_, 'Tis no mans envy that hath brought us hetherTo sitt as Judges on you, but your owne. Your owne late actions they have raisd a warAgainst your former merritts, and defeatedWhat ever then was ranckt for good and great, For which your Enemies, those that you thought frends, Triumph, not wee. 

_Bre_. We rather wish you couldAcquitt yourself of that for which we haveToo evident prooffes, then labour to intrap you. 

_Bar_. I must beleeve and suffer whatsoeverYour Lordships charge me with: yet would gladly heareWhat my faultes are. 

_Vand_. Read the ConfessionsOf _Leidenberch_ and _Taurinus_. 

_Bar_. _Leidenberch_!

_Officer reads_. First, that the _Arminian_ faction (of which Sir _JohnVan Olden Barnavelt_, late Advocate of _Holland_ and _West Frizeland_and Councellor of State, was without contradiction the head) hadresolved and agreed to renounce and break the generallity and unitieof the State. 

Secondly, Change and alter the Religion, and to that end, without theConsent of the Generall States, had raysed up and dispeirsed 3000Arminian Soldiers. 

Thirdly, To degrade the Prince of _Orange_. 

Fourthly, To massacre the people of the Townes which were their greatestEnemies or offered resistaunce. 

Fiftly, yf that fayled, to take in assistaunce of some forreignePotentates, as _Spaine_ or _Brabant_, delivering unto them _Utricht, Nunweghen, Bergen op Zone_, and the _Brill_--

_Bar_. And that, with others, this was _Barnavelts_ purpose?For so your Lordships take it. 

_Bred_. With good reason. 

_Vand_. Too many and strong proofes invyting usTo creadit it. 

_Bar_. Yf you will have them such, All truth I can bring to dyvert your LordshipsFrom your determinate opinion that wayWill not remove them. Yet 'tis strange that manShould labour to devide those Generall StatesThat had no weak hand in unyting them, --That _Barnavelt_ (a name you have rememberedWhen you have thought by whom you were mad happie)--That _Barnavelt_ (alowd I dare repeat it), Who, when there was Combustion in the State, Your Excellence, Grave _William_ and Count _Henrie_, Taking instructions for your CommaundsFrom one that then ruld all; the ProvincesRefucing to bring in their ContributionsAnd arguing whether the West _Frizelander_And _Hollander_ had powre to raise such Tribut, When many of the Governours stood illAffected to you, all our GarrisonsNot sworne then to the Generall States but others, Which the promiscuous multitude gladly followed:When _Graves_ and _Vendloe_ were held by the _Spaniard_And _Nunweghen_ with violence assaulted, Confusion with one greedy gripe being readyTo seaze on all; then when the _Sluice_ was lostAnd all in muteny at _Midleborough_, Who then rose up or durst step in before meTo doe these Cuntries service? Who then labourdMore then the now suspected _Barnavelt_T'appease seditions and compound all Quarrells?Who pacified the Malcontents? Who taught youTo stand upon your Guards and trust yourselves?O, you forgettfull, all this I performdAnd in the golden fagot of faire ConcordBound safely up those strengthes which Mutenies, Corruption and homebred Traitors scatterd. 

_Vand_. This is a point you often choose to treat of, And yet some part of theis good servicesNone will deny you. 

_Or_. But to ingrosse allWould argue me your ward, should I give way too't, And these grave Lords your Schollers. 

_Bar_. In the ArtOf Goverment they scornd not once to be soe, Nor you to give me hearing: and if ever'Twer lawful th' unthanckfull men t'upbraidUnequall benefitts, let it not in meBe now held glorious if I speake my best. I have five times in regall EmbassiesByn sent the principall Agent for theis Cuntries, And for your good have spoken face to faceWith mightie Kings: twyce with that virgin Queene, Our Patronesse of happie memory, _Elizabeth_ of _England_; twyce in _Fraunce_With that invincible King that worthely(Though dead) is still'd the _Great, Henry_ the _fourth_;Once with the King of _Britaine_ that now is:Yet let my greatest Enemy name the leastOf theis so high Imployments in which ITreated without advantage, and returnd notWith proffitt, as with honour, to my Cuntry, And let me fall beneath the worst aspersionHis mallice can throw on me. Besides SoldiersSo often levied by my meanes for you, Which to particularize were teadious, Two millions and five hundred thousand pounds, For which the Provinces stood bound, I wroughtFreely to be dischargd; the Townes they pawndTo be deliverd up; and after allTheis meritorious and prosperous travellsT'unyte theis States, can _Barnavelt_ be suspectedTo be the authour to undoe that knotWhich with such toyle he fastend[190]. 

_Or_. Pawse, I beseech you, And while you gather breath to fill the TrumpetOf your deserts give me leave to deliverA litle for the States and mine owne honour. We have heard a glorious Catalogue of your vertuesBut not one vice or slip of yours rememberd;But I will help your memory:--who was heThat gave intelligence of my sodaine commingTo surprize _Antwerpe_? They that brought the LettersWere knowne and but from you could have no noticeOf any such design. Who hinderd meFrom rescuing of _Rheinberch_ in the last Seige?Who warranted the yeilding of it upWithout necessitie to the Governour?Who was the cause no greater powre was sentAgainst the Enemie when he past the RhineAnd tooke the Townes of _Oldensell, Lingen, Groll_?To thinck of this would give a litle ventTo the windy bladder of your vanitieWhich you have blowne to an unlymitted vastnes. Your Insolence to me before the BattaileOf _Flaunders_ I forget[191]. --Call in _Modesbargen_. 

_Bar_. [aside[192]] He a prisoner, too!Then I am lost. 

 _Enter Captaine with Modesbargen_. 

_Or_. Ha! do's that startle you?

_Bar_. [aside[192]] I must collect myself. 

_Or_. You shall heare more. 

_Modesb_. O, Mounseiur _Barnavelt_, do we meet thus?I am as sorry to behold you thereAs know myself a Prisoner. Now you perceiveTo what a desperate state your headlong CounsellsAnd rash designes have brought us: to stand out nowWere to no purpose, for, alas, they haveToo pregnant prooffes against us. 

_Bar_. You that feeleThe horrour of fowle guilt in your falce bosomConfes yourself soe; my strong InocenceTo the death stands constant. 

_Or_. Take _Modesbargen_ in. 

 [_Exit Cap. And Modesb_. ]

_Vand_. This is an impudence I never read of. But now wee'll show thee, miserable man, Such further prooffes as would call up a blushUpon the devills cheeke. Looke upon this, Signd by the Governor, Chauncellor and CounsellOf _Gilderland_ and _Zutphen_, who here name theeThe roote and head of the late Schisme. 

_Bred_. And thisSent from the Lords of _Utrecht_, where 'tis prov'dThat the new Companies were raisd by you, And to what purpose. 

_William_. To subvert Religion, To deface Justice and to breake the unionAnd holly League betweene the _Provinces_. 

[_Henry_. [193] The Proclamations are allowd by youSent forth against the Protestants; and hereYour resolution to degrade my BrotherAnd then dispose of him as you thought fitt. ]

_Vand_. Your plott here to withdraw all the old SoldiersFrom the Commandement of the States, and wyn themTo serve for your ends in a Civill war. 

_Bred_. To raise up Cittizen against Cittizen, Stranger gainst stranger, Soldier against Soldier, And Maiestrates against the Maiestrates. 

_Or_. To waste the Land within that with lesse dangerThe forraigne Enemy might make his entraunce. Yf then this be not treacherie beyondAll presidents of Traitours--

_Bar_. Give me LeaveOnely to smile, then say all theis are falce, Your witnesses subornd, your testemoniesAnd wrytings forgd, and this elaborate formeOf Justice to delude the world a coverFor future practises: this I affirmeUpon my soule[194]. Now when you please condempne me:I will not use one sillable for your mercyTo have mine age renewd and once againeTo see a second triumph of my glories. You rise, and I grow tedious; let me takeMy farwell of you yet, and at the placeWhere I have oft byn heard; and, as my lifeWas ever fertile of good councells for you, It shall not be in the last moment barren. _Octavius_[195], when he did affect the EmpireAnd strove to tread upon the neck of _Rome_And all hir ancient freedoms, tooke that course[196]That now is practisd on you; for the _Catos_And all free sperritts slaine or els proscribdThat durst have stir'd against him, he then sceasdThe absolute rule of all. You can apply this[197]:And here I prophecie I, that have lyvdAnd dye a free man, shall when I am ashesBe sensible of your groanes and wishes for me;And when too late you see this GovermentChangd to a Monarchie[198] youll howle in vaineAnd wish you had a _Barnavelt_ againe. Now lead me where you will: a speedy Sentence:I am ready for it and 'tis all I ask you. 

 [_Exeunt_. 

_Actus Quintus_. 

SCAENA PRIMA. 

 _Enter Wife, Daughter, Servant with Peares_. 

_Wife_. Denyde to see my Husband! ô you Tirants!And (to increase my misery) in vaineBy heaven I kneeld for't, wept and kneeld in vaineTo such as would, while _Barnavelt_ was himself--But why do I remember that word 'was, 'That never happie word of 'was. '

_Serv_. Good Madam, Beare (with your usuall wisdom) what is notIn you to help. The strict guard's kept upon him;His State ceizd on; my Lord your Son disgracd, too, And all your frends suspected, may assure youNo price beneath his head must answeare for him. 

_Daughter_. But is he not alredy dead?

_Wife_. I, I, There lyes my feare. 

_Serv_. I sweare to you I saw himNot many howres since, and hundreds more;But yet, as one that's bound to honour him, I had rather have had assuraunce of his deathThan so to have seen him. 

_Both_. Why?

_Serv_. I have followd himWhen every step he made met a Petition, And these, that are his Judges now, like ClyentsHave wayted on him. The whole Court attendedWhen he was pleasd to speake, and, with such murmoursAs glad Spectators in a TheaterGrace their best Actors with, they ever heard him;When to have had a sight of him was heldA prosperous omen; when no eye gazd on himThat was not filld with admiration, notAs now with scorne or pitty. His rude Guard, For proofe that they contempne all such as aymeOr hope for his release (as if he wereSome prodigie or monster), each night show himTo such as greive his fortune, which must beTo him worse then ten thousand deaths made horridWith all the actes of Crueltie. 

_Daught_. I have hope yetTo see an alteration. 

_Wife_. My good Servant, He has some frends left yet and powerfull onesThat can doe more then weepe for him as we doe;Those I will strayt sollicite. In the meane time, That to his comfort he may know so much, Endeavour thou to have this simple presentAs from thy self sent to him. 

_Serv_. I will hazardAll that can fall upon me to effect it. 

 [_Exeunt[199] Wife and Daughter_. 

 _Enter Provost & Guard_. 

_Pro_. What makes this fellow here? Whether would ye, Sir?

_Serv_. Sir, to desire accesse unto my LordWere to ask that I know must be denide, And therefore I forbeare it; but intreatingWhat cannot wrong you in the graunt, I hopeTo find you curteous. 

_Pro_. What's the Suit?

_Serv_. This onely:My Lord, your prisoner, for my service gave meA poore house with an Orchard in the Cuntry. The fruites of which he did not scorne to taste ofIn th'height of his prosperitie; but of allThat pleasd his pallat there was one faire tree, On which theis Peares grew, which by his appointmentWere still reservd for him, and as a RentDue for my Living I stood bound to tender. Theis, yf you please, the last I shall pay to him, I would present him with, by what AttorneyYour goodnes shall prescribe me. 

_Prov_. They are faire Peares, Exceeding faire ones: ile make bold with one, The rest beare to him. 

_Serv_. [aside[200]] All wilbe discoverd, I am glad I am got off, yet. [_Exit_. 

 _Enter Provosts Wife_[201]. 

_Prov_. What make you here?Do you come to traile a pike or use a Musket?

_Wife_. For neither, Sir; I came to see you. 

_Pro_. Home!This is no place for women. To your Gossips!This burthen would become a Chamber better. 

_Wife_. 'Tis a faire Peare. 

_Prov_. You long for't: pray you take it, You are priviledgd now to beg. --Ha! charmes in't? stay, Give mee't. I would not for a thousand dollarsThis had byn undiscoverd. Pray you goe home;At night ile see you. 

_Wife_. You know my obedienceAnd I must practise it. 

_Prov_. Make out for the fellowThat came with this device. 'Twas queintly carried:The stalke pluckt cleanly out, and in the quillThis scroll conveyd. What ere it be the PrinceShall instantly peruse it. 

 _Enter Orange, Wm. , Vandort, Bredero_. 

_Or_. How came you by this?

_Prov_. I intercepted it in a dish of PearesBrought by a man of _Barnavelts_, but sent to himFrom some of better ranck. 

_Or_. See what is written here, --'You have frends left and therefore, Sir, dispaire not. '

_Vand_. 'Tis this that feeds his Insolence, theis are theyThat, when they should have paid their prairs for himAs for a guilty man, adoarnd his houseIn the dispight of us and of our Justice. 

_Bred_. But such shall find their flattering breath but makesThe fire, our Cuntries safetie byds us cherish, To burne with greater heate. 

_Vand_. And so consume him. 

_Or_. The freedom of our goverment, and our honours, And what we dare doe now lies at the stake. The better part of all the christian worldMarks our proceedings, and it wilbe said, Yf having the Conspirators in our powreWe sentence none of them, being convincd, too, Of fowre and thirtie Articles and each treason, 'Tis don for feare. Then, to affright the rest, I hold it fitt that _Barnavelt_, one that hasMost frends and meanes to hurt, and will fall thereforeWith greater terror, should receive his Sentence, Then dye as he deserves. For _Modesbargen_And _Hogerbeets_ we shall find fitt time toThinck of them hereafter. 

_Bred_. Let him be sent for. 

_Vand_. In the meane time 'tis fit we should give hearingTo the _French_ Embassadors, who, I know, come nowTo mediat for him. 

_Bred_. Wayt upon them in:Their Propositions shalbe answeard freely, And by such men as are their frends, not Servants. 

 _Enter Boisise, Morier, Wife, Daughter, Attendants_. 

_Boi_[202]. We will plead for him and prevaile, we doubt not. Take comfort therefore, Madam, and a while, Since you are not to be admitted here, Leave us to our endeavors. 

_Wife_. Heaven directAnd prosper theis your charitable traviles. 

 [_Exeunt Wife & Daughter_. 

_Or_. Bring Chaires there for their Lordships. 

 [_2 Chaires_. 

_Vand_. [203] And prepare themA sylent hearing. 

_Bois_. My good Lords, We are commaunded by the King our Master(Who ever hath respected your affairesAs the tranquility of his owne kingdoms)To let you thus far understand his pleasure:He do's exhort you, as the best foundationOf your estate, with all care to preserveThe union of your provinces, and wishesThe change that you have made of Maiestrates, The Advocate and Counsellors of StateIn many of your Townes, breed not dissentionsIn steed of ceasing them. Touching your PrisonersThat stand accusd of detestable Crymes, His Counsaile is, if they be culpable, That you use speedy Justice and with rigour. 

_Mor_. Ever remembring that the greatest PrincesHave sometimes to their glory byn most aptTo pardon what was enterprizd againstTheir Goverments, nay their lives; and that the freestAnd the best Common-Wealthes, have alwaies usdTo spare the blood of their owne Cittizens, And that in great offenders--it still beingThe principall signe of libertie and freedomNot easily, but with mature advice, To touch the lives of Cittizens. 

_Bois_. And the ratherWhen question is made of such as areYour officers placed in authoritie, Of whom the ancientst Mounsieur _Barnavelt_, So much commended for so many goodAnd notable services don for theis Cuntries, Deserves most serious regard. My MasterAnd other Kings & Princes your allyes, Lyving yet witnesses of his great merittsAnd with such admiration that they canBe hardly brought to thinck he should conspireAgainst these States, for which yourselves best knowWhat travayles he hath undergon; and thereforeOnce more he do's advice you to use mercy, Which if you doe, he then shall thinck you meritThe many favours you have tasted from him:Yf not, he having given you whollsom Counsaile, Yf you refuce it he must thinck himselfSlighted in his requests; and then, perhaps, Hereafter you may misse that promptnes in himWhich you have found when your wants most requird it. 

_Vand_. May it please your Highnes in the names of allTo make their Lordships answeare. 

_Or_. Willingly;For I must still be glad to take occasionTo speak how much your Lordships and myselfEver stand bound to that most Christian KingWhose favours, with all thancks, we must acknowledgeAs with all care preserve. Onely we hopeHis Maiestie will give us leave to sayWe greive that he is misinformd of usAnd our proceedings, of which we hereafterWill give him certaine and unanswerable proofesTo iustefie our Actions, which we willMake knowne to all the world; till when we wishHe will be pleasd to give way to the StatesTo finish what they have begon, with JusticeTemperd with mercy; and that your good LordshipsWill give his Grace to understand thus much, If with the generall voice you doe approve it. 

_Bred_. We will confirme it with our generall Seale, And send our answeare to his PropositionsWith our respect and duties. 

_Mor_. This we shallMake knowne unto him. 

_Or_. Roome there for their Lordships. 

 [_Ext. Embs_. 

_Bred_. What thinck you now, my Lords?

_Vand_. In my opinion'Tis time he had his Sentence!

_Wm_. Is it drawne?

_Vand_. Yes, here it is. The peoples loves grow daungerous;In every place the whispers of his rescue;The lowd and common voice of his deservingsIs floong abroad. Nor doe they handle theis thingsBy rules of truth and reason, but their owne wills--Their headstrong hott affections. 

_Bred_. Is he sent for?

_Or_. Yes and will presently be here. 

_Bred_. Sit downe then, And now with speedy Justice let's prepareTo cutt off this Imposthume. 

 _Enter Provost & Guard, with Barnavelt_. 

_Vand_. 'Tis high time, Sir. 

_Prov_. Roome for the Prisoner!

_Vand_. Bring him in; Sit downe, Sir, And take your last place with us. 

_Bar_. 'Tis your formeAnd I infringe no order. 

_Bred_. Mounseiur _Barnavelt_, Will ye confes yet freely your bad practisesAnd lay those Instruments open to the World, Those bloody and bold Instruments you wrought by?Mercy may sleepe awhile but never dyes, Sir. 

_Bar_. I have spoake all I can, and seald that allWith all I have to care for now, my Conscience. More I beseech your honours--

_Or_. Take your pleasure. 

_Vand_. You will give us no more lights: What this world gives you, To morrow thus we take away. Receive it. 

_Bar_. My Sentence?

_Vand_. Yes; consider for your soule now, And so farewell. 

_Bar_. I humbly thanck your honours:I shall not play my last Act worst. 

_Bred_. Heavens mercyAnd a still conscience wayt upon your end, Sir. 

_Or_. Now guard him back againe: by the break of dayYou shall have order from us. 

_Prov_. Roome for the Prisoner!--

 [_Ext. Provost and Guard, with Barnavelt_. 

_Or_. The world shall know that what's iust we dare doe. 

_Vand_. Nor shall the desperate act of _Leidenberch_Delude what we determind. Let his CoffinBe therefore hangd up on the publique Gallowes. Th'Executioners like hungry vulturesHave smelld out their imployment. 

_Or_. Let them have it:And all that plot against the generall goodLearne from this mans example, great in age, Greater in wealth and in authoritie, But matchles in his worldly pollicie, That there is one above that do's derideThe wisest counsailes that are misaplide. 

 [_Exeunt_. 

SCAENA 2. 

 _Enter Harlem, Leyden & Utrecht Executioners_. 

_Har_. Now hard and sharpe, for a wager, who shall doe it. Here's aSword would doe a man's head good to be cut of with it; cures allrhumes, all Catharres, megroomes, verteegoes: presto, be gone!

_Ley_. You must not carry it, _Harlem_: you are a pretty fellow and lopthe lyne of life well, but weake to _Baltazar_. Give roome for _Leyden_:heer's an old Cutter, heer's one has polld more pates and neater then adicker[204], of your Barbers; they nere need washing after. Do's not thyneck itch now to be scratchd a little with this?

_Har_. No, in truth do's it not; but if you'll try first, yf I doe notwhip your dodipoll as clenly of and set it on againe as handsomely as itstands now, that you may blow your nose and pledge me too Cans after--

_Ley_. I was afraidThe rogue had don't indeed. 

_Utr_. You two imagine nowYou are excellent workmen and that you can doe wonders, And _Utrecht_ but an Asse. Let's feele your Raizors:Handsawes, meere handsawes! Do you put your knees to'em too, And take mens necks for timber? You cutt a feather?Cut butter when your tooles are hot! Looke here, puppies;Heer's the sword that cutt of _Pompeis_ head. 

_Har_. The head of a Pumpion. [205]

_Utr_. Looke on't but come not neere it: the very wind on'tWill borrow a leg or an arme. Heers touch & take, boyes!And this shall moaw the head of Mounsieur _Barnavelt_. Man is but grasse and hay: I have him hereAnd here I have him. I would undertake with this SwordTo cutt the devills head of, hornes and all, And give it to a Burger for his breakfast. 

_Ley_. We know you have byn the headman of the parishA great while, _Utricht_, and ministerd much Justice, Nickt many a worthie gamester; and that you, _Harlem_, Have shortend many a hanging cause, to your Commendation:Yet, for all this, who shall trym Monsieur _Barnavelt_Must run by fortune. You are proper men both;But why before me that have studdied the true trick on'tTheis twenty yeeres, and run through all the theorems?

_Har_. Let's fling for't then. 

_Ley_. I am content. 

_Utr_. And I. 

_Har_. Sit round, then: here are dyce, and ile begin to ye. Have at your head, Sir _John_! dewce ace[206]; a doggs-head![207]The devill turnd this ace up. Farwell, velvet gowne!Thou hast mist the luckiest hand to scratch thy Coxcomb. 

_Ley_. No, no, Sir. Now for my part. Heigh! fight aloft for the head, boyes. How? Cater-trey[208]?

_Utr_. Will you take a sleeve for your share, Sir?

_Ley_. 'Tis but a desperat cast, and so hee'l find it, If it fall to me. Cast for your game. 

_Utr_. Have at it:Stay, let me swing my Sword thrice round first: now, Now the Graves head ... Goose giblitts. --Two sixes, boyes! I knew I should performe it. 

Har. Ye have it: thanck your fortune. 

_Utr_. I could not misse it, I never lost so faire a stake yet. How ile doe itAnd in what posture: first, how ile take my leave of him, With a few teares to draw more money from him;Then fold up his braunchd[209] gowne, his hat, his doblet, And like the devill cry 'mine owne! lye there, boyes!'Then bind his eyes; last stir myself up bravelyAnd, in the midle of a whollsome praire, Whip and--_hic iacet Barnavelt_. --Come, let's sing our old Song, And then come view me how I doe my busines. Boy, come, sing you for me. 

 [_Song. Exeunt_. 

SCAENA 3. 

 _Enter 2 Captaines[210] & their Soldiers, severally_. 

1 _Cap_. Here stand we fast. 

2 _Cap_. Cock all your Musketts, Soldiers, now, And gentlemen be ready to bend your pikes;The prisoner's comming out. 

1 _Cap_. But doe you thinckThey meane to take his head of, or to fright him?

2 _Cap_. Heaven keep me from such frights. Why are theis GuardsCommaunded to make good the Execution, If they intend not death?

1 _Cap_. But dare they doe it?

2 _Cap_. What dare not Justice do that's right and honest?Is he not proov'd a guilty man? What bugsShould publick safety be afraid to looke on?Do you hold the United _States_ so tame to feare him, --Feare him a Traitor, too?

1 _Cap_. You know hee's much lov'd, And every where they stir in his Compassion. 

2 _Cap_. They'll stir so long till some of 'em will sinck for't, Some of the best I feare that glewd his faction;Their building lyes discoverd and their bases broken. 

1 _Cap_. There is much money laid in every place, too, Hundreds and thousands, that they dare not strike him. 

2 _Cap_. Give loosers leave to play the fooles; 'tis lost all. Secure yourself he dyes; nor is it wisdomTo go an ace lesse with him: he is monstrous. --The people hurry now; stand fast, he is comming. 

 _Enter Provost, Soldiers & Executioners, with a Coffin & a Gibbett_. 

_Pro_. Make roome before! cleere all theis gaping peopleAnd stop their passage. 

1 _Cap_. How now? What wonder's this?

_Prov_. Stay! or ile make ye stay: I charge ye stir not. 

2 _Cap_. What thinck you now? dare not theis men do Justice?This is the body of _Leidenberg_, that killd himselfTo free his Cause: his shame has found him yet. 

_Prov_. Up with him, come: set all your hands & heave him!

_Exec_. A plaguy, heavy Lubber! Sure this fellowHas a bushell of plot in's belly, he weighes so massy. Heigh! now againe! he stincks like a hung poll cat. This rotten treason has a vengeance savour;This venison wants pepper and salt abhominably. 

_Prov_. Pyn him aloft, and pin him sure. 

_Exec_. I warrant ye;If ere he run away againe ile swing for him. This would make a rare signe for a Cookes shop, The Christmas pie. [_Exeunt Executioners_. 

_Prov_. Come; now about the rest. --Keepe the Court cleere still. 

 [_Exeunt Provost and Soldiers_. 

2 _Cap_. What thinck you now?

1 _Cap_. Now I am afraid of him. This prologue should portend a fatall Tragedie:Theis examples will make 'em shake. 

2 _Cap_. 'Tis well they have 'em;Their stubbornenes and pride requires 'em greater. The Prince strikes iust ith' nick and strikes home nobely:This new pretending faction had fird all els;They had floong a generall ruyn on the Cuntry. 

 _Enter Boyes & Burgers_. 

1 _Boy_. He comes, he comes, he comes! ô for a place now!

2 _Boy_. Let's climb the Battlements. 

_Cap_. Away with theis rogues. 

1 _Burg_. I saw the Guard goe for him: Where shall we be now?

2 _Burg_. He will make a notable Speech, I warrant him. 

3 _Burg_. Let's get us neere the Skaffold. 

1 _Cap_. Keep of, Turnops:Ye come upon our Pikes els. 

1 _Burg_. Pox o' theis Soldiers?We cannot see our frends hangd in quiet for 'em. Come, come, to th' top oth' hall. 

 [_Exeunt Boys & Burgers_. ]

2 _Cap_. Away, good pilchers![211]Now blow your matches and stand fast: he comes here. 

1 _Cap_. And now bend all your pikes. 

 _Enter Provost, Barnavelt, Lords, Guard. (A Scaffold put out) Executioner_. 

_Prov_. Cleere all the Skaffold;Let no more into th'Court; we are choakd with people. 

_Bar_. You are curteous in your preparations, gentlemen, 1 _Lord_. You must ascend, Sir. 

_Bar_. Feareles I will, my lords, And, what you can inflict, as feareles suffer. Thus high you raise me, a most glorious kindnesFor all my Cares! For my most faithfull serviceFor you and for the State thus ye promote me!I thanck ye, Cuntrymen, most nobely thanck ye. --Pull of my Gowne. Of what place are ye, frend?

_Exec_. Of _Utrich_, Sir. 

_Bar_. Of _Utrich_! Wherefore, prethee, Art thou appointed here?

_Exec_. To tell you true, Sir, I won this place at dyce: we were three appointed. 

_Bar_. Am I becom a generall game? a Rest[212]For every Slave to pull at? Thanck ye still:You are growne the noblest in your favours, gentlemen. --What's that hangs there? what Coffin?

_Lord_. How it stirrs him. 

2 _Lord_. The body, Sir, of _Leidenberch_[213] the Traitour. 

_Bar_. The traitour?

2 _Lord_. I, the Traitour, the fowle Traitour, Who, though he killd himself to cleere his cause, Justice has found him out and so proclaimd him. 

_Bar_. Have mercy on his soule! I dare behold him. 

1 _Lord_. Beleeve me, he's much moved. 

2 _Lord_. He has much reason. 

_Bar_. Are theis the holly praires ye prepare for me--The comforts to a parting soule? Still I thanck ye, Most hartely and lovingly I thanck ye. Will not a single death give satisfaction, O you most greedy men and most ungratefull, --The quiet sleep of him you gape to swallow, But you must trym up death in all his terrorsAnd add to soules departing frights and feavors?Hang up a hundred Coffins; I dare view 'em, And on their heads subscribe a hundred treasonsIt shakes not me, thus dare I smile upon 'emAnd strongly thus outlooke your fellest Justice. 

2 _Lord_. Will ye bethinck ye, Sir, of what ye come for. 

_Bar_. I come to dye: bethinck you of your JusticeAnd with what Sword ye strike, the edge of mallice. Bethinck ye of the travells I had for ye, The throaes and grones to bring faire peace amongst ye;Bethinck ye of the dangers I have plundgd throughAnd almost gripes of death, to make you glorious. Thinck when the Cuntry, like a Wildernes, Brought nothing forth but desolation, Fire, Sword and Famine; when the earth sweatt under yeCold dewes of blood, and _Spanish_ flames hoong ore ye, And every man stood markt the child of murderAnd women wanted wombes to feed theis cruelties;--Thinck then who stept in to you, gently tooke yeAnd bound your bleeding wounds up; from your facesWipd of the sweatts of sorrow, fed and nurssd ye;Who brought the plowgh againe to crowne your plenty;Your goodly meadowes who protected (Cuntrymen)From the armd Soldiers furious marches; whoUnbard the Havens that the floating MerchantMight clap his lynnen wings up to the windesAnd back the raging waves to bring you proffit. Thinck through whose care you are a NationAnd have a name yet left, --a fruitfull Nation(Would I could say as thanckfull)--bethinck ye of theis thingsAnd then turne back and blush, blush [for] my ruyne. 

1 _Lord_. 'Tis strange how this [man b]rags; 'tis a strange impudenceNot to be pittied in his [case], not sufferd. You breed the peace, you bring the plowgh againe?You wipe the fire and blood of from this Cuntry, And you restore hir to hir former Beuty?Blush in thine age, bad man; thy grave blush for theeAnd scorne to hide that man that holds no Creadit. Beare witnes all the world that knowes our TroblesOr ever greiv'd our plagues, what we have sufferdAnd, under Heaven, by what armes we have cur'd theis, --Councells and frends; in which I tell thee (_Barnavelt_), And through thy Impudence I here proclaime it, Thou hadst the least and last share. 'Tis not your face, Sir, The greatnes of your friends, corruptly purchast, The Crying up of your manie Services, Which lookd into wither away like Mushrumps, Shall scandall us. 

2 _Lord_. Your _Romaine_ end, to make menImagine your strong conscience fortifide, No, nor your ground Religion. Examine all menBranded with such fowle syns as you now dye for, And you shall find their first stepp still Religion. _Gowrie_ in _Scotland_, 'twas his maine pretention:Was not he honest, too? his Cuntries father?Those fyery Speritts next that hatchd in _England_That bloody Powder-Plot, and thought like meteorsTo have flashd their Cuntryes peace out in a Moment:Were not their Barrells loden with Religion?Were not they pious, iust and zealous Subiects?Humble your soule for shame, and seeke not now, Sir, To tumble from that happines even AngellsWere throwne from for their pride. Confes, and dye well. 

1 _Lord_. Will ye confes your faultes?

_Bar_. I come not heatherTo make myself guilty; yet one fault I must utter, And 'tis a great one. 

2 _Lord_. The greater mercy. 

_Bar_. I dye for saving this unthanckfull Cuntry. 

1 _Lord_. Play not with heaven. 

_Bar_. My Game's as sure as yours is, And with more care and inocence I play it. Take of my doblet; and I prethee, fellow, Strike without feare. 

_Exec_. I warrant ile fitt ye. I pray forgive me, Sir. 

_Bar_. Most hartely, And heer's my hand. I love thee, too: thy physickWill quickly purge me from the worldes abuses. When I speak lowdest, strike. 

_Exec_. I shall observe ye. 

_Bar_. Farwell, my lords: to all your Counsailes fortune, Happie succes and proffit; peace to this Cuntry;And to you all, that I have bredd like children, Not a more faithfull father but more fortunate. Doe not I stay too long?

2 _Lord_. Take your owne time, Sir. 

_Bar_. I have a wiffe, my lords, and wretched children, Unles it please his Grace to looke upon 'emAnd your good honours with your eies of favour. 'Twill be a litle happines in my deathThat they partake not with their fathers ruyns. 

1 _Lord_. Let not that troble ye: they shall not find it. 

_Bar_. Commend my last breath to his Excellence;Tell him the Sun he shot at is now setting, Setting this night, that he may rise to morrow, For ever setting. Now let him raigne aloneAnd with his rayes give life and light to all men. May he protect with honour, fight with fortune, And dye with generall love, an old and good Prince. My last petition, good Cuntrymen, forget me:Your memories wound deeper then your mallice, And I forgive ye all. --A litle stay me. --Honour and world I fling ye thus behind me, And thus a naked poore man kneele to heaven:Be gracious to me, heare me, strengthen me. I come, I come, ô gracious heaven! now, now, Now, I present--

_Exec_. Is it well don mine Heeres?

1 _Lord_. Somewhat too much; you have strooke his fingers, too, But we forgive your haste. Draw in the body;And Captaines, we discharge your Companies. 

_Vand_. Make cleere the Court. --Vaine glory, thou art gon!And thus must all build on Ambition. 

2 _Lord_. Farwell, great hart; full low thy strength now lyes:He that would purge ambition this way dies. 

 _Exeunt_. 

INTRODUCTION TO _CAPTAIN UNDERWIT_. 

This anonymous Comedy is printed, for the first time, from Harl. MS. 7, 650, --a small quarto of eighty-nine leaves. I have followed Halliwell(Dictionary of Old Plays) in adopting the title, Captain _Underwit_. There is no title-page to the MS. 

An editor with plenty of leisure on his hands would find ampleopportunities in Captain _Underwit_ for discursive comment. Sometimes Ihave been obliged to pass over odd phrases and out-of-the-way allusionswithout a line of explanation; but in the index at the end of the fourthvolume I hope to settle some difficulties that at present are leftstanding. 

The date of the play I take to be circ. 1640 or 1642. In I. 1 there is amention of the "league at _Barwick_ and the late expeditions, " where thereference can only be to Charles I. 's march into Scotland in the springof 1639, and to the so-called Pacification of _Berwick_. Again, in III. 3, there is an allusion to the Newmarket Cup. Historians of the Turf saythat Newmarket races date from 1640; but this statement is incorrect, for in Shirley's _Hyde Park_ (V. 1), --a play licensed in 1632 andprinted in 1637, --mention is made of a certain "Bay _Tarrall_ that wonthe Cup at Newmarket. " We find also an allusion to the "great ship"(III. 3), which was built in 1637. Of Mr. Adson's "new ayres" (IV. 1) Iknow very little. He brought out in 1621 a volume of "Courtly MasquingAyres, " but published nothing later, --although, of course, he may havecontinued writing long afterwards. Hawkins and Mr. Chappell arealtogether silent about Adson's achievements. 

Gerard Langbaine tells us that Shirley left at his death some plays inmanuscript: I have little doubt, or rather no doubt at all, that Captain_Underwit_ is one of them. In the notes I have pointed out severalparallelisms to passages in Shirley's plays; and occasionally we findactual repetitions, word for word. But apart from these strong proofs, it would be plain from internal evidence that the present piece is adomestic comedy of Shirley's, written in close imitation of Ben Jonson. All the characters are old acquaintances. Sir Richard Huntlove, wholongs to be among his own tenants and eat his own beef in the country;his lady, who loves the pleasures of the town, balls in the Strand, andmasques; Device, the fantastic gallant, --these are well-known figures inShirley's plays. No other playwright of that day could have given ussuch exquisite poetry as we find in Captain _Underwit_. The briskness, too, and cleverness of the dialogue closely recall Shirley; but it mustbe owned that there are few plays of Shirley's written with suchfreedom, not to say grossness. 

[CAPTAIN UNDERWIT, A COMEDY. ]

_Act the First_. 

 _Enter Captaine Underwit and his man Thomas_. 

_Un_. Come, my man _Thomas_, and my fathers old man _Thomas_; reioyce, I say, and triumph: thy Master is honourable. 

_Tho_. Then wee are all made. 

_Un_. No, tis only I am made. 

_Tho_. What, and please your worship?

_Un_. I am made a Captaine of the traind band, [214] _Thomas_, and thisis my Commission, this very paper hath made me a Captaine. 

_Tho_. Are you a paper Captaine, Sir? I thought more had gone to themakeing up of a Captaine. 

_Un_. They are fooles that thinke so, provided he have the favour of theLivetenant of the County. 

_Tho_. Which it seemes you have. 

_Un_. The honour of it is more then the thing, _Thomas_, since I didnot bribe the Secretarys steward or what servant else so ever hath thegovernment of his Lordship therein. 

_Tho_. This is very strange. 

_Un_. Not so much as transitorie wicker bottles to his DeputyLivetenant, no fewell for his winter, no carriages for his summer, nosteple sugarloaves to sweeten his neighbours at Christmas, no robbing mybrave tennants of their fatt Capons or Chickens to present his worshipwithall, _Thomas_. 

_Tho_. I cry your worship mercy, you sold him land the last terme; I hadforgott that. 

_Un_. I, that lay convenient for him. I us'd him like a gentleman andtooke litle or nothing; 'twere pitty two or three hundred acres of dirtshould make friends fall out: we should have gone to fenceing schools. 

_Tho_. How, sir?

_Un_. I meane to _Westminster_ hall, and let one another blood in Lawe. 

_Tho_. And so the Land has parted you?

_Un_. Thou saist right, _Thomas_, it lies betweene both our housesindeed. But now I am thus dignified (I thinke that's a good word) orintituled is better, but tis all one; since I am made a Captaine--

_Tho_. By your owne desert and vertue. 

_Un_. Thou art deceavd; it is by vertue of the Commission, --theCommission is enough to make any man an officer without desert;_Thomas_, I must thinke how to provide mee of warlike accoutrements toaccomodate, which comes of Accomodo[215]: _Shakespeare_. The first, andthe first--

_Tho_. No, Sir, it comes of so much money disburs'd. 

_Un_. In troth, and it does, _Thomas_; but take out your table bookesand remember to bring after me into the Country, for I will goe downewith my father in law Sir _Richard_ this morning in the Coach, --let mesee--first and formost: a Buff Coate and a paire of breeches. 

_Tho_. First and formost: Item, a Buff Coate fox and a paire of breechesof the same Cloth. 

_Un_. A paire of bootes and spurres, and a paire of shooes withoutspurres. 

_Tho_. Spurres. 

_Un_. A paire of gray stockins, thick dapple gray stockins, with a belt, to be worne either about my shoulder or about my wast. 

_Tho_. Wast. 

_Un_. A _London Dutch_ felt without a band, with a feather in't. 

_Tho_. Without a feather in't. 

_Un_. An old fox[216] blade made at _Hounsloe_ heath, and then all theBookes to be bought of warlike discipline, which the learned callTacticks. 

_Tho_. Ticktacks. [217]--If your worship would take my Counsell, considering the league at _Barwick_[218] and the late expeditions, weemay find some of these things in the North or else speake with somereform'd Captaine, though he bee a Catholike; and it may bee wee mayhave them at cheaper rates. 

_Un_. 'Tis true, Thomas: but I must change the lynings of the breeches, for I love to bee cleanly. 

_Tho_. So you may, Sir; and have the fowling of them yourselfe. 

_Un_. Let me see: A leading staff--

_Tho_. A leaden staffe--

_Un_. A lead'ing staffe. 

_Tho_. --ding staffe. Why, a Cane is a leading staffe in a Captaineshand. 

_Un_. But I must have tassells, _Thomas_, and such things. 

_Tho_. At the harnesse of the Carthorses there are tassells and Bells, too, if you will. 

_Un_. Bells? What should I doe with em?

_Tho_. Ring all your companie in. 

_Un_. Thou would'st make me a Captaine of a Morris dance. What serve thephifes and Drumms for, prethee?

_Tho_. But does your worship thinke you shall endure the bouncing of theGunns? I observed you ever kept a way of at the Musters. 

_Un_. Thou shalt therefore every morne goe a birding about the house toinure me to the report. By that tyme thou hast kild all my pigeons Ishall endure the noise well enough. 

_Tho_. But, Sir, you must have a dry Nurse, as many Captaines have. Letme see: I can hire you an old limping decayed Sergeant at _Brainford_that taught the boyes, --he that had his beard sing'd of at the lastMuster: hee'le doe it bravely. 

_Un_. What must he have?

_Tho_. Alas, twenty pipes[219] of _Barmudas_ a day, six flagons ofMarch[220] beere, a quart of Sack in a weeke, for he scornes meate; andthe kitching wench to bring the shirt to him and the only band, forCuffs he gets none but such as his drunkennes procures him withquarrelling. 

_Un_. No, I shall be bashfull to learne of a stranger, thou sha't goeseeke out Captaine _Sackburye_. 

_Tho_. He that weares no money in his scarlett hose, and when he isdrunke is infected with Counsell?

_Un_. The very same; you shall find him at his Lodging in _Fleetstreet_or in the next taverne. Give him this Letter; tell him I desire hisCompanie this summer in the Country. He shall have a horse of mine, say:--here, give him this gold, too. 

_Tho_. I hope it is gameing gold. 

_Un_. He shall read warres to me and fortification. 

_Tho_. I can teach you to build a sconce[221], sir. 

_Un_. Beside, he is very valiant; he beate me twice when he was drunk, but, poore fellow, I ask'd him forgivenes the next day. Make hast, good_Thomas_, and remember all the Tacticks. 

_Tho_. I warrant you, Sir: I know 'em well enough. [_Exit_. 

_Un_. So, so; here's Sir _Richard_. 

 _Enter Sir Richrd Huntlove, his Ladie and Mistresse Dorothy_. 

_Sir Rich_. Me thinkes you looke more sprightly since you were made aCaptaine. 

_Un_. Oh, good Sir _Richard_, indeed my face is the worst part about mee;and yet it will serve at the Muster. 

_Do_. Serve! With reverence to the title, I have seene a Generall with aworse Countenance. It is a good leading face, and though you have no cutore the nose or other visible scarre, which I doubt not but you mayreceave all in good tyme, it is a quarrelling face and fitt for a man ofwarre. 

_Un_. I thanke you, sweet mistress _Dorothy_: I will commend you as muchwhen you are in the Countrey. --But doe you resolve to goe downe thismorning, Sir?

_Sir Rich_. By all meanes: is your sister readie? bid the Coachman makehast, and have a care you leave none of your trinketts behind: after alittle dialogue with my scrivenour Ile returne, and then to Coach. 

_Lady_. But why this expedition, this posting out of towne as the Airewere infected?

_Sir Rich_. The[222] truth is, my sweet Ladie, we have no Exchange inthe Country, no playes, no Masques, no Lord Maiors day, no gulls norgallifoists[223]. Not so many Ladies to visit and weare out my Coachwheeles, no dainty Madams in Childbedd to set you a longing when youcome home to lie in with the same fashion'd Curtaines and hangings, suchcurious silver Andirons, Cupbord of plate and pictures. You may goe toChurch in the Countrey without a new Satten gowne, and play at pennygleeke[224] with a Justice of peaces wife and the parsons; show yourwhite hand with but one Diamond when you carve and not be asham'd toweare your owne wedding ring with the old poesie. There are no Doctorsto make you sick wife; no legends of lies brought home by yong gallantsthat fill my Dyning roome with fleas and new fashions, that will writeverses upon the handle of your fanne and comend the education of yourMonkey, which is so like their worships as they were all of one familie. I have no humour to provokeing meates; I will downe and enter into aChristian diett, Madam. There is sport in killing my owne partridge andpheasant; my Trowtes will cost me less than your Lobsters and crayfishdrest with amber greece[225], and I may renew my acquaintance withmutton and bold chines of beefe; entertaine my tenants, that would payfor my housekeeping all the yeere and thanke my worship at Christmas, over and above their rents, with Turkies and Beeves of supererogation. You may guesse I have some reason to change the aire, wife, and so Ileave you to prepare your selfe: You have my purpose and may expect mee. [_Exit_. 

_Lady_. However he may pretend, and point at chargeWhich makes his stay unpleasant, 'tis his JelousieThat strikes him into wildnes and dislikeOf all things here: he does not use mee well. --Where is my sister?

_Do_. In the Closet, Madam. --I must waite upon my Ladie, sweete Captaine. 

 [_Exeunt Lady & Dorothy_. 

_Un_. This Wench has a notable witt, if I have any Judgment: I doe notthinke but shee's in love with me. If I thought shee were not given tobe with child I would examine her abilities; but these waiting women areso fruitfull, when they have a good turne from a gentleman they have notthe vertue of concealment: touch a Chambermaide and take a Child, --everything workes with their soluble bodies. 

 _Enter Monsir Device_. 

_De_. Noble Mr. _Underwitt_!

_Un_. I know not whome you meane, sir: he that comands the family inchiefe, hath been honor'd with a sword and "rise Sir _Richard_" (who isbut my father in lawe[226] to a[nd?] by a former wife): for Mr. _Underwitt_, whome to salute you humbled your Cloth a gold Dublet, I kennot the wight. 

_De_. Doe not you know mee, noble Sir?

_Un_. Upon even tearmes I may call your name to memorie, but if youunderstand not my addition[227] it is honourable to forgett the bestfriend I have. 

_De_. What's the mistry of this? Your addition? pray honour me toknow it. 

_Un_. He that was Mr. _Underwit_ is made a Captaine; you may, if youplease, take notice of his title. 

_De_. I beg your mercy, noble Captaine, and congratulate your additionof honour. It was Ignorance which, I professe, made me salute you with awrong preface. Now, Capt. , I shall bee proud to march under the ensigneof your favour. 

_Un_. Friend _Device_, how does thy body? I am thy vassall; servant isfor porters, watermen & lacquies, & is no witt neither. You preserveyour tropes and your elegancies? What fancies doe adorne to-day? If Iwere a Constable I might apprehend you for suspition you had robd apedlar. Does this thatchd cottage head hold still in fashion? What paidyou for this dead mans hair? Where's your night rail[228]? The last timeI saw you was in _Fleetstreet_, when at Complement and bare to an othergentleman. I tooke him for a Barber and I thought you by the wide lynnenabout your neck [to] have been under correction in the suds[229], sir. 

_De_. Wee are govern'd by the Mode, as waters by the Moone; but thereare more changes in th'one than t'other. But does your Comand extendto the Sea or the land service?

_Un_. I never see the Sea in my life, sir, nor intend it. 

_De_. You are not the first Captaine that has seene no service: 'tistime lost to travell for't when a man may bee a Comander at home. Inever traveld myselfe. 

_Un_. No, Sir?

_De_. And yet I understand garbes, from the elevation of your pole tothe most humble galosh. 

_Un_. Can your hanches play well in these close cut breeches? they wantbut a pummell to distinguish 'em from Trouses[230]. 

_De_. O sir, there is a perfect geometry in these breeches; you doe notobserve the morality of your fancie, nor the gentile play and poize ofyour Lemon, Orange or Melon: this is gentry. Why, I understand all thecuriosities of the Mode to a Mathematicall point, and yet I nevertravaild in all my life for't. 

_Un_. These are extraordinary parts. Alas, a Captaine has but fifty or ahundred at most to looke after, and all they have not so much witt asyour _French_ Lacquey. And what need any travaile to instruct them? Ican teach them their motions by word of mouth: when they come to fight, my Countrymen will retreate naturally. 

 _Enter Ladie and her Sister_. 

_Lady_. Now in revenge could I bee rich, but thatI would not be a prisoner to my Chamber. These superstitions will make women doeStrange things sometymes. 

_Sis_. Of whome doe you thinke he should be jealous, sister?

_Lady_. Of Duke _Eneas_ in the hanging. 

_Sis_. I hope he has no suspition of my servants, That, under the pretence of formall CourtshipTo mee, should ayme at his dishonour: there'sOne that would weare my livery. 

_Lady_. _Device_?Hang him, outside! no, my husband lovesHis folly and would have him the state foole, His garbes are so ridiculous. 

_Sis_. What opinion(Still with a confidence of your cleere thoughts)Holdes he of the Knight Sir _Francis Courtwell_, That often visits us?

_Lady_. Sure a Noble one, If I may aske my Innocence; yet I findHim very amorous. O my husband loves him;He is a powerfull man at Court, whose friendshipIs worth preserving. Sister, I confesseHis nobleness and person hath prevaildWith mee to give him still the freest welcomeMy modestie and honor would permitt;But if I thought my husband had a scrupleHis visits were not honourable, IShould soone declare how much I wish his absence. 

_Un_. Your Mistresse and my Lady; I have someAffaires require despatch, ile leave you to 'em. [_Exit_. 

_Sis_. My witty servant!

_Lady_. Most pretious Alamode, Monsir _Device_!

_De_. I blesse my lipps with your white handes. 

_Lady_. You come to take your leave as knowing by instinct wee have buthalfe an hour to stay. 

_Sis_. Wee are for the Countrey as fast as your _Flanders_ mares willtrott, sir. 

_De_. That's a Solecisme till the Court remove;--are you afraid of thesmall pox?

_Sis_. The less the better for a gentlewoman. 

_De_. And the greater more genty for a Cavallier. By this glove (apretty embroidery is't not?) you must not deprive us so soone of yoursweet presence. Why, there's a Ball to night in the _Strand_ andtomorrow I had a purpose to waite upon you to the pictures; I ha'bespoke regalias[231] there, too. There will be a new play shortly, a pretty Comedy written by a profest Scholler: he scornes to takemoney[232] for his witt, as the Poetts doe. 

_Lady_. He is Charitable to the Actors. 

_Sis_. It may be their repentance enough to play it. 

_De_. You must needs stay and give your opinion. What will become of me when you are gon, Ladie?

_Lady_. If your devotion catch not cold you may breath your _Barbary_and visit us, where you may be confident of your welcome. 

_De_. I dare as soone doubt I was Christned. But pray let us visit theExchange and take a trifle to weare for my sake before you goe. Whatsay, Madam? my owne Coach is at dore, the lyning is very rich and thehorses are very well matcht. 

_Lady_. Alas, wee expect upon my husbands returne to take Coachimediatlie. 

_Sis_. But if wee see you in the Countrey you will doe us an honour?

_De_. You invite me to my happines. I can play well o' the kittar; Ithinke your musique is but course there; wee'le have a Countrey danceafter supper and a song. I can talke loud to a Theorbo[233], too, andthats cald singing. Now, yee shall heare my Ballet. 

_Sis_. Did you make a Ballet?

_De_. Oh I, the greatest wit lies that way now; a pittifull Complaint ofthe Ladies when they were banish'd the Towne[234] with their husbands totheir Countrey houses, compeld to change the deere delight of Maske andRevells here for Wassail and windie bagpipes; instead of Silken Fairiestripping in the Banquetting Roome, to see the Clownes sell fish in thehall and ride the wild mare, and such Olimpicks, till the ploughmanbreake his Crupper, at which the Villagers and plumporidge men boileover while the Dairy maid laments the defect of his Chine and he, pooreman, disabled for the trick, endeavours to stifle the noise and companywith perfume of sweat instead of Rose water. 

_Lady_. This must be our Countrey recreation, too!

 _Enter Sir Francis Courtwell_. 

_De_. Who is this?

_Lady_. 'Tis Sir _Francis Courtwell_;You cannot choose but know him. --This must beeA favour, Sir, to visit us at parting. 

_Sir Fr_. I came with other expectation, Madam, Then to heare this: I could receave no newesSo unwelcome. What misfortune doth concludeThe Towne so unhappie?

_Lady_. 'Tis my husbands pleasure, Affrighted with some Dreame he had last night;For I can guess no other cause. 

_Sir Fr_. Could heeBee capable of fright and you so neere him?

_De_. He cannot choose but know me then. --Sir, I kisse your noble handand shall be stellified in your knowledge. 

_Sir Fr_. What thing's this that looks so like a race Nagg trick'd withribbands?

_Sis_. He is one of my inamoratos, Sir;They call him Mounsir _Device_. 

_Sir Fr_. Lady, your faire excuse. --He has, it seemes, Some confidence to prevaile upon your likingThat he hath bought so many Bride laces. 

_Sis_. You may interpret him a walking mirth. 

_Sir Fr_. He moves upon some skrues and may be kinsmanTo the engine that is drawne about with Cakebread, But that his outside's brighter. 

_De_. Sir _Francis Courtwell_. 

_Sir Fr_. That's my name, Sir. 

_De_. And myne Mounsieur _Device_. 

_Sir Fr_. A _Frenchman_ Sir?

_De_. No, sir; an _English_ Monsier made up by a _Scotch_ taylor thatwas prentice in _France_. I shall write my greatest ambition satisfiedif you please to lay your Comands upon mee. 

_Sir Fr_. Sweet lady, I beseech you mussell your beagle; I dare nottrust my selfe with his folly, and he may deserve more beating then I amwilling to bestow at this tyme. 

_Sis_. Take truce a little, servant. 

_Sir Fr_. Will you consider, Madam, yet how muchA wounded hart may suffer?

_Lady_. Still the old businesse;Indeede you make me blush, but I forgive youIf you will promise to sollicite thisUnwelcome cause no more. 

_Sir Fr_. 'Tis my desire;I take no pleasure in a pilgrimage. If you instruct a nearer way, 'tis inYour will to save your eare the trouble ofMy pleading, Madam, if with one soft breathYou say I'me entertain'd; but for one smileThat speakes consent you'le make my life your servant. 

_Lady_. My husband, Sir--

_Sir Fr_. Deserves not such a treasure to himselfeAnd starve a noble servant. 

_Lady_. You but pleadeFor vanitie: desist, for if I could(Forgetting honour and my modestie)Allow your wild desires, it were impossibleThat wee should meete more then in thought and shadowes. 

_Sir Fr_. If these shadowes, Madam, be but darke enough, I shall account it happines to meet you. But referr that to opportunitie, Which our kind starrs in pitty will sooner offerTo both our ioyes. 

_Lady_. But he is very Jealous. 

_Sir Fr_. That word assures my victorie; I neverHeard any wife accuse her husband ofOr cold neglect or Jealousie, but she hadA confirm'd thought within to trick his forehead--It is but Justice, Madam, to reward himFor his suspitious thoughts. 

_Lady_. D'ee thinke it fittTo punish his suspition yet perswadeTo act the sinne he feares?

_Sir Fr_. Custome and nature make it less offenceIn women to comitt the deed of pleasureThen men to doubt their chastity; this flowingFrom poison'd natures, that excus'd by fraielty. Yet I have heard the way to cure the scareHas bin the deed; at truth the scruples vanish. I speake not, Madam, with a thought to sufferA foule breath whisper your white name; for heThat dares traduce it must beleeve me dead, Or my fame twisted with your honour must notHave pitty on the Accusers blood. 

_Device_. I will attend you in the Countrey;I take my leave and kiss your ivory hand;Madam, and yours. Sir _Francis_, your obliged. [_Exit_. 

_Sir Fr_. You bless me with this promise. --How can you, lady, suffer this impertinentAfflict you thus? [_Ex. Lad_. 

_Sis_. Alas, my parrat's dead and he supplies the prattle: ith' springand fall he will save me charge of phisick in purgeing Melancholy. 

_Sir Fr_. If you dareAccept a servant, Ladie, upon myComends, I should present a kinsman t'eeWho sha'not want a fortune nor, I hope, A meritt to possesse your faire opinion. 

_Sis_. You doe not say he is hansome all this while, and that's a maineconsideration. I wod not have a man so tall as a Mast, that I must clymethe shroudes to kisse him, nor so much a dwarfe that I must use amultiplying glass to know the proportion of his limbes. A great man is agreat house with too much garret and his head full of nothing butlumber: if he be too round agen hees only fitt to be hung upp in aChristall glasse. The truth is the man I love must please me at firstsight; if he take my eye I may take more tyme to examine his talent. 

_Sir Fr_. Do you but grace him with accesse and aske your owne fancie, Ladie, how you can affect him. Ile not despaire if he were cur'd ofmodesty, which is the whole fault in his behaviour; but he may passewithout contempt. 

_Do_. That modestie is a foule fault. 

 _Enter Captaine Underwitt_. 

_Un_. Come away, Cosen; Sir _Richard's_ come and calls for you; theCoachman is ready to mount. Noble Sir _Richard_, because you may notloose breath, you may call me a Captaine, please you, a Captaine o' thetrain'd band. 

_Sis_. 'Tis very certaine. 

_Sir Fr_. I congratulate your title, Sir. 

_Un_. If you come into the Countrey you shall see me doe as much with myleading staff as another. 

_Sir Fr_. You wonot thrash your men?

_Un_. If I did 'tis not the first time I ha thrash'd. If I find mySouldiers tractable they shall find me but a reasonable Captaine. 

 _Enter Sir Richard [and] Lady_. 

_Sir Rich_. Sir _Francis_, I am sorrie the violence of my affaires wonotlet me entertaine you to my wishes. Pray honour us with your presence inthe Countrey, if you can dispence with your employments, when I shallsatisfie for this haste of my departure. 

_Sir Fr_. I shall attend you, Sir, and present a kinsman of mine to thisvirgin Ladie: he is like to be Master of no narrow fortune. It was mybusines at this tyme only to prepare his accesse. 

_Sir Rich_. He shall have my vote for your sake, Sir _Francis_. Come, Madam. 

_Sir Fr_. Ile waite upon you to the Coach and take my leave. 

_Un_. Sweet Mistresse _Doritye_. 

 [_Exeunt_. 

_Act the Second_. 

 _Enter Captaine Sackburie, reading a Letter, and Thomas_. 

_Capt_. Hum--hum--Where's the gold?

_Tho_. Here, Sir; one, two, three, fowre, and five. 

_Cap_. Thou hast learnd the Cinque pace[235], _Tho_: is the gold weight?

_Tho_. I hope so, Sir. 

_Cap_. Hum--into the Country;--thou hast a horse, too?

_Tho_. Not about me, Sir, but he is ready, all but brideling andsadling, at our Inne, Captaine. My master sayes you shalbe troubled withno horse but his. 

_Cap_. Why, is he lame?

_Tho_. What? _Truehunt_, the black nag with three white feete? he lame?You meane that I ride upon my selfe. 

_Cap_. Hum, --'make hast as you will preserve the reputation of your truefriend and servant:'--so, so--Comend me to him, _Thomas_; I wonot faileto visit him. 

_Tho_. You may demand the Nag, if you ask for _Humfrey_ the Ostler, bythe same token he has bin there this foure dayes and had but one peck ofprovender. 

_Cap_. Enough I wonot faile, I say. Farewell, honest _Tom aLincolne_, farewell: comend me to the traind band. 

_Tho_. Pray doe not fall a drinking and forgett it: bu'oy[236], nobleCaptaine. [_Exit_. 

 _Enter Mr. Courtwell_. 

_Cap_. My expectation of the Lawz well mett!

_Cou_. I am glad to see you, Captaine. 

_Cap_. Is thy sight perfect?Thy poring upon statutes and booke casesMakes me suspecte. But dost thou thinke to beeA Dominus factotum on the Bench, And be a Civill Lawyer?

_Cou_. You are merry. 

_Cap_. Tis more then thou hast been this twelvemonth: th'astLost thy Complexion with too much study. Why, thou shalt be an heire and rule the rostOf halfe a shire, and thy father would but Dye once;Come to the Sizes with a band of JanisariesTo equall the Grand Signor, all thy tenants, That shall at their owne charge make themselves fineAnd march like Cavaliers with tilting feathers, Gaudy as _Agamemnons_[237] in the play:After whome thou, like _St. George_ a horsebackOr the high Sheriff, shall make the Cuntrey peopleFall downe in adoration of thy CrooperAnd silver stirrup, my right worshipfull. A pox a buckram and the baggage in't!Papers defil'd with Court hand and long dashes, Or Secretarie lines that stradle moreThen _Frenchmen_ and lesse wholsome to the Client. Is thy head to be fild with Proclamations, Rejoynders and hard words beyond the _Alchemist_[238]?Be ruld, and live like a fine gentlemanThat may have haukes and hounds and whores and horses, And then thou art fitt Companie. 

_Cou_. You talke wildlie;I wou'd you saw your Errour that place allYour happinesse upon such course delights. I should degenerate too much and forfetMy education. 

_Cap_. Education! he has gott a tune:I doe not thinke but thou wilt leave thy lawAnd exercise thy talent in composeingSome treatises against long haire and drinkingThat most unchristian weed yclipt tobacco;Preach to the puisnes[239] of the Inne sobrietie, And abstinence from shaveing of lewd BayliesThat will come shortlie to your Chamber dooresAnd there with reverence entreat your worshipsCome forth and be arrested, --precious tappoles!I wo'd not willingly despaire of thee, For thy Lands sake and cause I am thy Countreyman. One generous Vagarie, and thou wer't wise, Would breake somebodies hart within a sennight, And then th'art Lord of all. Have but the graceTo dine wo' mee at taverne and ile tellThy friends there is some hope. 

_Cou_. My friends?

_Cap_. Thy father'sIn _Essex_: if he live heele purchase _Romford_;If he die sooner then the towne's our owne;Spend but an acre a day and thou maist liveTill all the world be wearie of thee. BetweeneUs two, what thincke you of a wench?

_Cou_. Nothing. 

_Cap_. You meane one wench betweene us two is nothing. I know a hundred Leverets[240], things that willBound like a dancer on the rope and kiss theeInto thy naturall complexion:A sinner that shall clime thee like a squirrell. 

_Cou_. And crack me like a Nutt. I ha no kernellTo spare for her sweet tooth. 

_Cap_. That was a metaphor: hee's not desperate!

_Cou_. Buoy, my deere Captaine. 

_Cap_. Wy, farewell, Countreyman:I may live yet to witnes thy conversion. [_Exit_. 

 _Enter a Footeman_. 

_Cou_. How does my uncle?

_Fo_. He desires presentlieTo speake with you at his lodging. 

_Cou_. Ile attend him. 

 [_Exit_. 

[SCENE 2. ]

 _Enter Captaine Underwit and Thomas_. 

_Un_. And hast thou been carefull of all those things I gave chargeto be provided?

_Tho_. There is a note of the particulars. 

_Un_. Tis very well done, _Thomas_. --Let me see: Imprimis--

_Tho_. The Captaine wonot faile to be w'ee, sir. He was not at hislodging; and inquiring at the _Horne_ tavern, I heard he had been therewith two or three Cittizens that ow'd him mony. 

_Un_. That he owde mony to. 

_Tho_. Tis all one, I thinke, Sir; for when Captaines have not pay, thecreditors may pay themselves. Here they said he did mollifie the hart ofthe haberdashers and dranke himselfe a little mellowe ere they parted, which gave me some hope I might find him ere night at the _Divell_, where indeed I fetcht him out of the fire and gave him your Letter. 

_Un_. And the gold too?

_Tho_. That was the first word he read; if you did not write it in texthe could not have found it out so soone. His eye was no sooner in theinside but his arme flew out with an open mouth and his very fingerscryed "give me the gold"! which presumeing to be weight he put in hishocas pocas, a little dormer under his right skirt; and so takeing hisword to come downe and turning over your horse to him, with caution notto be drunk and forgett your worship, I tooke my leave and went aboutmy Inventorie. 

_Un_. Theis things are very right, _Thomas_. Let me see now the bookesof Martiall discipline. 

_Tho_. I bought up all that I found have relation to warr and fighting. 

_Un_. That was weldone. --Item: _The Sword Salve_. 

_Tho_. This I conceiv'd to have the vertue of _Achilles_ speare: if youbee hurt you need goe no further then the blade for a Surgeon. 

_Un_. The _Buckler of Faith_. 

_Tho_. You had the sword before, Sir. 

_Un_. A _Booke of Mortification_. 

_Tho_. I, Sir, that is a kind of killing which I thought very necessaryfor a Captaine. 

_Un_. Item: the _Gunpowder Treason_ and the _Booke of Cannons_. 

_Tho_. I wod not lett any shott scape mee. 

_Un_. _Shakespeares_ Workes. --Why _Shakespeares_ Workes?

_Tho_. I had nothing for the pikemen before. 

_Un_. They are plays. 

_Tho_. Are not all your musterings in the Countrey so, Sir? Pray, read on. 

_Un_. _Bellarmines Controversie_ in six tomes. 

_Tho_. That I took upon the Stationers word, who had been a prettySchollar at Paules; for the word _Bellarmine_, he said, did comprehendwarr, weapons and words of defiance. Ill words provoke men to draw theirsword, and fighting makes an end of the busines; and all this iscontroversy. Pray, goe on, Sir. 

_Un_. Two paire of Tables. --Tables for what?

_Tho_. Oh, sir, for ticktack. You know it was in my note, which though Idoubted at first, yet considering you were newly made a Cap: I conceiv'dit was fitt you should learne to sett and or[d]er your men. 

_Un_. Tacticks, man: thou didst mistake, they are bookes of warre. 

_Tho_. You cannot know these from bookes as they are painted, I warrant you. 

_Un_. Why, dost thou thinke theis will make a Souldier?

_Tho_. Not of themselves, Sir, and therefore I provided: please youread on, Sir. 

_Un_. _Parsons Resolutions_ and _Felthams Resolves_[241]. 

_Tho_. All is nothing I knew, Sir, without resolution. 

_Un_. Summa totalis three and twenty poundes nyneteene shillings andsevenpence. --Thou hast undone mee. 

_Tho_. If you doe not like the pennyworths tis but the charges of myselfe and a horse agen to _London_. I will lose but the three odd pounds19s and 7d: it may be you doe not understand these Authors: when theCaptaine comes he will expound 'em to you. 

_Un_. What a Coxcombe have I to my man! but I dare not be angry withhim. Well, carry 'em into my study, _Thomas_. 

 [_Ext. Tho_. 

 _Enter Device_. 

_De_. Most honor'd Captaine. 

_Un_. My compleat Monsier _Device_, this is a grace to us. You come tovisit your Mistres my Cosen. As if by instinct she had knowledge of your [_Enter Ladie and Sister, & Dorothy_. Approach, she is come to meet you. --Shall I never get opportunitie withthat shee waiter! If I gett her with Child my man _Thomas_ shall marryher. 

 _Enter Thomas_. 

_Tho_. Sir, the Captaine is new alighted. 

_Un_. Gett a bottle of sack up to my Chamber presently. 

 [_Ext. [Underwit & Thomas_. 

_La_. You are a gentleman of your word. 

_Sis_. And such a gentleman is to be trusted, Madam. 

_De_. He is an Infidell that will breake his word with a Ladie. 

_Sis_. I suspect, servant, you have many Mistresses. 

_De_. Not I, by this white hand. I must acknowledge there are someLadies in the Court in whose eyes and opinion I am favour'd. I cannotobscure my selfe from their observation; but my heart with contempt ofall other endeerement is only devoted to your service. 

_Sis_. Is't not a charge to dresse your selfe with such variety ofRibbands every day?

_De_. Is that your scruple? Tis the Mode to express our fancie uponevery occasion; to shew the turne and present state of our hope orfeares in our Affection. Your colours to an understanding Lover carrythe interpretation of the hart as plainely as wee express our meaningone to another in Characters. Shall I decipher my Colours to you now?Here is Azure and Peach: Azure is constant, and Peach is love; whichsignifies my constant Affection. 

_Sis_. This is very pretty. 

_De_. Oh, it saves the trouble of writing, where the Mistres and Servantare learned in this amorous blazon. Yesterday I wore Folimort, Grisdelinand Isabella: Folimort is withered, Grisdelin is absent, and Isabella isbeauty, which put together express I did wither or languish for yourabsent beautie. 

_Sis_. But is there any reason for theis distinctions?

_De_. Yes, Lady: for example, your Follimort is a withred leafe, whichdoth moralise a decay: your yellow is joy, because--

_La_. Why, yellow, Sir, is Jealous. 

_De_. No, your Lemon colour, a pale kind of yellow, is Jealous; youryellow is perfect joy. Your white is Death, your milke white inocence, your black mourning, your orange spitefull, your flesh colourlascivious, your maides blush envied, your red is defiance, your gold isavaritious, your straw plenty, your greene hope, your sea greeneinconstant, your violet religious, your willow forsaken. 

_Sis_. We may then comitt a solecisme and be strangely interpreted bysuch curious expounders in the rash election and wearing of our colours, I p[er]ceave. 

_La_. Tis pitty but there should be some bookes for our instruction inthis art. 

_De_. Your Hierogliphick was the _Egiptian_ wisdome, your _Hebrew_ wasthe Cabala, your _Roman_ had your Simball or impresse; but they are nowobsolete, your embleme trite and conspicuous, your invention ofCharacter and Alphabeticall key tedious and not delightfull, your mottoor rebus too open and demonstrative: but the science and curiosity ofyour Colours in Ribbands is not only instructive but an ornament and thenearest Comentator of Love; for as Love is entertain'd first by the eye, or, to speake more plaine, as the object affected is tooke in first bythese opticks which receive the species of the thing colord &beautifide, so it is answerable to nature that in the progresse of ourpassion we should distinguish by our eye the change or constancy of ouraffections in apt and significant colours. 

_Sis. _You have tooke paines to study this learn'd heraldry. 

_De_. It is the onely gentile knowledge or philosophie in the world. Iwill undertake to open any man or womans hart. 

_La_. Heaven forbid!

_De_. Tell the most secret imaginations and designes conclude everypassion and scruple, if they be carefull to observe the artificiallmethod of their colours. 

_Sis_. Why, this may be a way of fortune telling too. 

_De_. You say right, Lady: phisiognomy and chiromancy are but trifles;nay, your geomancie meere coniecturall, the execution of your schemescircumstantiall and fallible, but your quaint alamode weare of yourfancie more then astrologicall. 

_La_. Tis a kind of Divinitie. 

_De_. You say very true, Madam, and comes neere to propheticall if theminds of Ladies and gentlemen were elevated to the just and sublimeconsideration. 

_Sis_. What paines he takes to be ridiculous!

_Do_. This gentleman has a notable fancie and talkes poetically. 

_Sis_. Yes, yes; he can write verses. 

_Do_. Well, I have read Authors in my dayes and knew the length of thepoets in my tyme too, which was an hexameter and which a pentameter, butthe wits are not as they have been--right and straite. 

_Sis_. Why, _Doroty_?

_Do_. Why, because wind is the cause of many things; now if the wind beenot in the right corner tis the ill wind our proverbe speakes of thatblowes nobodie good; for when vapors and wind flie into the head itcannot be in two places at one time: and that's the reason your men ofmost wit doe seldome love a woman. --But here comes my Master and Sir_Francis_. 

 _Enter Sir Richard and Sir Francis, and Mr. Courtwell_. 

_Ri_. This is a double honour to us, _Sir Francis_. I shall wantlanguage, but not a friendly hart to entertaine you and your noblekinsman. What my exquisite Cavalier _Device_!--tis to no purpose I seeto remove into the Countrey to save charges and be quiet; the wholeCitty will come hither if I stay. I have no stomack to my kn't. 

_Fra_. I hope, madam, you will be no enemy to my kinsman. 

_Ri_. Sister, I present this gentleman; observe and cherish him; he hasbeen i'th Universitie. 

_Sis_. Any degree, Sir?

_Co_. Onely Bachelour, forsooth!

_Ri_. If he winne you to marriage, Lady quicksilver--

_Sis_. He wilbe Master of his Art. 

_Ri_. My vote is for him. 

_De_. --I like not the induction of this rivall. 

_Ri_. He studies now the law, And thats the high way to preferment, Sister. 

_Sis_. Indeed it is the high way in which someDeliver up their purses. He may climeTo scarlet, but that he has too good a face. 

_De_. Sir, I hope--

_Ri_. Troth, do not, Sir, --I meane, trouble yourselfe:He is too bashfull to prevaile uponYour spirited mistres!

 _Enter Mr. Engine_. 

_En_. Sir _Richard_. 

_Ri_. More customers? Mr. _Engine_, welcome;Your presence was unexpected in the Countrey. 

_En_. Twas my ambition with some intentsTo serve you, sir. Please you vouchsafe your privacie, I bring Affaires are worth your entertainement:I have rid hard. 

_Cou_. What Cavallier's this, Uncle?

_Fra_. He is the inventor of new proiects, cosen, They say, and patents; one that lives like a mothUpon the Common wealth. 

_Cou_. He lookes like one. 

_Ric_. You will excuse me, gentlemen. --Make much of Sir _Francis_, Madam. 

 _Ext. [Sir Richard and Engine_. 

_Fra_. Weele leave my Nephew and your sister, Madam, And take a turne i'th garden. 

_Sis_. You may be confident. 

 [_Exeunt Sir Francis, Lady, and Dorothy_. 

_De_. --I doe not like the fancie in his hat;That gules is warre and will be ominous. 

 _Ext. [Device_. 

_Sis_. The gentleman's turnd statue! blesse me howHe staires upon me and takes roote, I thinke. It mooves, and now to earth is fixt agen;Oh, now it walkes and sadly marches this way. Is't not a ghost? heele fright me. Oh, sweet sir, Speake if you can and say who murderd you. It points at me: my eyes? ungentle eyesTo kill so at first sight! Ile have my lookesArraigned for't and small _Cupid_ shall be judg, Who for your sake will make me blind as he is. 

_Co_. Ladie--

_Sis_. The man's alive agen and hasA tongue! discretion guide it; he but sentHis soule forth of an arrand; tis returnd, Now wee shall have some sentences. 

_Co_. Such are the strange varieties in love, Such heates, such desperate coldes, --

_Sis_. No more winter, and you love me, unlesse you can command thecolepits; we have had a hard tyme on't already for want of fuell. 

_Co_. I'me all turnd eares and, Lady, long to heare you, But pressing to you doubt I am too neare you. Then I would speake, but cannot; nought affordesExpression, th'Alphabet's too poore for wordes:He that knowes Love knowes well that every howerLove's glad, Love's sad, Love's sweet--

_Sis_. And sometymes sower. Theis wordes would goe well to a tune; prayletts heare you sing. I doe not thinke but you can make me a ioynture offower nobles a yeare in Balletts, in lamentable balletts; for your wit Ithinke lies tragicall. Did you make the _Ladies Downefall_[242]. You expresse a passion rarely, but pray leaveYour couplets and say something in blanck verseBefore you goe. 

_Co_. Before I goe? breath not that killing language:There is no sunne but in your eyes, and whenI once take leave of those celestiall beamesI meet with darkenes in my habitation;Where stretch'd on sable ground I downe shall layMy mournefull body, and with folded ArmesHeare sadder noats uppon the _Irish_ harpe[243]And drop division with my brinish teares. [244]

_Sis_. This must be lamentable musick sure!

_Co_. But I have found an art to cure this wound, For I with fancies pencill will so drawYour picture in the table of my hart, Your absence shall but like darke shadowes standTo sett you of and see you, Lady, betterThen Love will lett me when I looke upon you. 

_Sis_. Could this be true and meant, sweet sir, to me, I should be kinder then the gentlest springThat warms the world and makes fierce beasts so tameAnd trees to swell themselves to cheerefull greene;More jocund then the proudest quire of birds, What ere they be that in the woods so wideDoe sing their merry catches. --Sure he doesBut counterfeit. 

_Co_. Oh, now I see that LoveIs sweet as flowers in their fragrant birth, Gentle as silke, and kind as Cloudes to Earth?

_Sis_. One rime more and you undoe my love for ever. Out upon't! pedlars_French_[245] is a Christian language to this. I had rather you shouldput me a case out of _Litleton_. They say you are a pretty Lawyer. 

_Co_. Tenant[246] per la Curtesie d'Engleterre est, hon home prent femeseisie in fee simple ou en fee taile generall, ou seisie comeheire de la taile speciall et ad issue per mesme la fame, male oufemale, oies ou wife, soit lissue apres mort ou en vie si la feme deaie, la baron tiendra la terre durant sa vie, per la ley dengleterre. 

_Sis_. Nay, here's enough a Conscience! What a Noise this confusion oflanguages make; tis almost as good as a beare baiting. Harke you, Sir, you are never like to recover me by law. 

_Co_. You are not the first sweet Ladie has been overthrowne atCommon Lawe. 

_Sis_. Not by tenn thousand, Sir. Confest: but I have no mind to come toissue with a Lawyer; when he should consider my cause at home, heele beat _Westminster_, teaching men the Statutes. No, no, I wo'not marry aJudge. 

_Co_. Why, Lady?

_Sis_. They are casuall things and men that hold such strange opinions. 

_Co_. Lady, you may be misinform'd: _Astraea_Hath not quite left the earth, and the abusesOf some which shame the calling are but likePatches of beauty on the shape of laweTo set the whitenes of. 

_Sis_. Farewell, Sir:You are in love with a barrd gown, not beauty;If you will be my learned Counsell, leave it--This yong thing is a foole or a fine fellow. [_Exit_. 

_Co_. She kicks and flings out like a Colt unwayed;Her witt's a better portion then her money;I would not love her yet, and I could help it. --My Uncle and his Mistres: Ile not hinder em. 

 [_Ex_. 

[SCENE 3. ]

 _Enter Sir Francis and Ladie_. 

_La_. It is no honour, Sir, if arm'd with soMuch eloquence you overcome a woman. I blush to say I love you now too much;I wish you would release what your sweet charmesWon from my tongue; I shall repent my promise. 

_Fra_. Make me not miserable after so much blessing. Why, Madam, tis on honourable tearmes, Since not upon the first attempt but afterA tedious seige in to your faire love you give upWhat shall enrich us both. It were a sinneTo feare you can retract what both our lippsHave seal'd, and loose a happines so neareAnd so secure. Your husband holds his pleasureOf early hunting constant, and when hePursues the tymerous hare to morrow morne, _Cupid_ will waite to bring me to _Elizium_, Your bed, where every kisse shall new create us. 

_La_. You must be wise in your excuse, to quitHis importunitie. 

_Fra_. Leave that to me:I weare not worth the name of him that serv'd youTo loose my glorious hope for want of suchA thinne device. In your thought wish me prosper, And I am fortifide against the powerOf fate to seperate us; and when thou artWithin the amorous circle of my armes, We will make lawes to love; teach him new motionOr chaine[247] him with the cordage of his haire, Like a tame thing, to walke, and watch our pillowAnd be our pleasures Centinell. 

_La_. I seeMy husband; tis not safe he should observe us:Be wise and constant. [_Exit Lady_. 

_Fra_. All that's sweet attend thee. So I am sailing now to my owne _Indies_, And see the happie Coast, too: How my wingsDoe spread to catch the wind which comes to court 'em, And the green Sea, enamour'd on my barke, Doth leap to see how _Cupid_ sitts at helme. And steeres my soule to his new world. 

 _Enter Sir Richard and Engine_. 

_Ri_. A monopolie say youFor Perriwigs?

_En_. Is't not a rare designe? and by such artAnd reasons I can name, most beneficiallTo the common wealth, preventing the diseasesWhich some unwholsome haire breeds in mens heads, It will be worth our agitation, Sir;And you, after the rate of every thousandPer Annum milk'd out of the comon purseInto your owne, may easily defaulkeTo me a hundred for my first projection. Did I not love you, Sir, I could make choiceOf other able men that would be gladTo multiplie their money. 

_Ri_. Sir, I thanke you, But have no mind to thrive upon abuse ofMy princes favour nor the peoples curse. Here is a gentleman, Sir _Francis Courtwell_, Perhapps will undertake it. 

_Fra_. What, Sir _Richard_?

_Ri_. A Monopolie for composeing and selling of perriwiggs. 

_Fra_. Excuse me, Sir, I dare not deale in 'em. If I be not mistaken, Sir, your nameIs _Engine_?

_En_. Yes, Sir. 

_Fra_. The proiector generall?If I may advise you, Sir, you should make your will, Take some convenient phisick and dye tymelyTo save your credit, and an execution:It is thought else--

_En_. Oh--

_Fra_. What aile you, Sir?

_En_. A Megrim in my head. 

_Ri_. Whoes there?

 _Enter Thomas_. 

Looke to Mr. _Engine_ heere, he faints, and sendTo your Ladie for some Cordiall waters presently. 

_Tho_. There is a Soveraigne Well hard by has doneStrange cures: please you, ile throw him into that. _Ext. [Thomas; carrying away Engine_. 

_Ri_. Though I distast his busines I wod notHe should miscarry here; you frighted him. But come, I thinke tis supper tyme, Sir _Francis_. I shall expect youle hunt with me i'th morning;I have a pack of Doggs sent me will makeThe Forrest ring. 

_Fra_. Ile cheerefully attend you, I love the sport; as earlie as you please, Sir. 

_Ri_. I wish wee had all pleasures to delight you, But no thing wants in my true love to serve you. 

_Fra_. --Yet I must cuckold him; I cannot helpe it. 

_Act the Third_. 

 _Enter Thomas with Sir Richards bootes_. 

_Tho_. Sir. 

_Within Ri_. Whoes that? _Thomas_?

_Tho_. The sun is up before you. Here be your bootes. 

_Ri_. That's well. 

_Within La_. I preethe donot rise yet; it is hardly day. Sirra, who bidyou call him so earlie? Sir _Richard_ wonot rise yet. 

_Tho_. I cannot helpe it, it is none of my fault. 

_La_. Wheres _Doroty_?

 [_Enter Doroty_. 

_Do_. Here, Madam; what make you up so soone, _Thomas_?

_Tho_. O Mistres _Dority_, tis e'ne long of you, for betweene sleepeand awake your remembrance came to me this morning, and _Thomas_ wasup presently. 

 _Enter Sir Richard [& Lady]_. 

_Ri_. You must excuse me, wife;I meane to kill a brace of hares beforeYou thinke tis day. Come, on with my Bootes, _Thomas_;And _Dorothy_ goe you to Sir _Francis_ Chamber, Tell him the Day growes old and I am readie, Our horses and the merry hounds expect us. 

_La_. Any excuse to leave me. 

_Ri_. You may takeYour ease a bed still, Madam. Ile not looseOne morning that invites so pleasantly, To heare my Doggs, for a new Maidenhead, I. Twas for these sports and my excess of chargeI left the towne: besides the Citty foggsAnd steame of Brick hills almost stifled me;This Aire is pure and all my owne. 

_Tho_. My LadieMeanes shee would have you gett another heire, Sir, for your lands; though it be against my MasterThe young Captaine, yet she speakes but reason. And now I talke o'th Captaine, Sir, Would you had given him Counsell. 

_Ri_. To what?

_Tho_. Before he tooke this huffing[248] trade upon him, To have been a man of peace, I meane a Justice. Nature has made him fit for both alike. Hee's now at charge to keepe a Captaine Schoolemaster;He might have sav'd the qua[r]teridge of his TutorIf I had been his Clarke: and then the incomeThat broken heads bring in, and new yeares guiftsFrom soder'd virgins and their shee provintiallsWhose warren must be licenc'd from our office!

_Ri_. Away you prating knave. --

 [_Enter Dorothy_. 

What? is he readie?

_Do_. Alas, hee's almost dead. 

_Ri_. How? dead?

_Do_. He has been troubled with a fitt o'th stone, Sir, all this night. Sweet gentleman he groanes, And sweates, and cannot--

_Ri_. What?

_Do_. Make urine, Sir. 

_Tho_. I heard my Ladie has an excellentReceit to cure the Stone; she is a peeceOf a rare Surgeon. 

_Ri_. Well, away and get the horses readie, sirra, For I shall ride you and your witt together. 

_Tho_. Alas, any foole may ride me, but I wouldfaine see any man ride Mistres _Dorothy_. 

_Do_. How, sirra? [_Exit Thomas_. 

_Ri_. I am sorry I must leave such a Companion. But more lament the cause. I wish him health;My presence cannot serve him. Morrow, wife:I cannot lose my sport. [_Exit_. 

_Do_. Nor shee when you are gone. My Lady does expect another hunt's up. 

_La_. Now I must trust thy secresie. 

_Do_. You shall not doubt me, Madam, and t'assure youMy faith, I have a suit to your LadishipWhose grant, were there no other bonds upon me, Would tye me everlastinglie to silence. 

_La_. What ist? but name, and I shall soone confirme thee. 

_Do_. Our Captaine o'th traind band has been offringTo chaffer Maidenheads with me. I mustConfesse I can affect the foole uponGood tearmes, and could devise a plott to nooseMy amorous woodcock, if you privatlieAssist me and dare trust me with some JewellOf price, that is not knowne, which shalbe faithfullyRestor'd Madam. 

_La_. I that dare trust my honour with thee sha'notSuspect thy faith in any treasure else. But prethe draw the Curtains close, while IExpect this friend: I needes must hide my blushes. Thou maist discover from the Gallory windoweWhen they are hors'd. I tremble to considerWhat I have promis'd. 

_Do_. Tremble to meet a Ghost!You are more fearefull then a Virgin, Madam. Why this setts me a longing; but ile watch:This is the timerous world of flesh and blood. [_Exit_. 

 _Enter Sir Richard_. 

_La. Within_. Alas!What doe you meane? retire for heavens sake!My husband is not gone, I heare his voice yet;This rashnes will undoe my fame for everShould he returne. 

_Ri_. How's this?"Returne for heavens sake! my husband is not gone:I heard his voice; this will undoe my fame!"It was my wife, and this is sure my bed chamber. 

_La_. (_looking forth_. ) I have undone my selfe; it is my husband. 

_Ri_. My forehead sweats: Where are you, Madam?Whome did you talke too or take me for? ha! AsleepeAlreadie, or doe I dreame? I am all wonder. Madam, --

_La_. You may kill him and please you, sweet heart;I cannot abide a Blackamore. 

_Ri_. How's this, wife?

_La_. Helpe, helpe, deare husband, strangle him with oneOf my Lute strings; doe, doe, doe. 

_Ri_. If shee be a sleepe she was not us'd to talke thus:She has some hideous dreame. She spake to me, to;Whom should I strangle, sweet hart, with a lute string?

_La_. The King of _Morocco_, I thinke. 

_Ri_. Tis so, she dreames. What strange Chimeras weeDoe fancie in our sleepe! I were best wake her. Madam, Madam!

_La_. O Murder, Murder!

_Ri_. Sweet heart, Madam, wake!

_La_. Whoes that?

_Ri_. Tis I. 

_La_. Sir _Richard_? Oh you have delivered meFrom such a dreame I quake to thinke upon't. 

_Ri_. I must confesse you frighted me at first. 

 _Enter Dorothy_. 

_Do_. --My Master come back? if he had found the [sic] Sir _Francis_ here!

_Ri_. How now? art thou frighted too?

_Do_. Frighted, quoth a! Oh, Madam, the key of the Closet quickly. Imust have some Cordiall water for Sir _Francis_; I feare this fitt willkill him. 

_La_. Alas, good gentleman! make hast. 

_Do_. --His appearance would betray all: I thus prevent it. 

_La_. Nay, sweet hart, you sha'not leave me till I ha toldWhat a cruell Dreame I had. Methought a kingOf Blackamores was in love with me, and haveingBy flattering Courtship drawne me to his bed chamber, With my consent or force swore to enjoy mee. I knew not by what reasons to divertThe Ravisher, but told him that I heardThy voice, and bid him if he lov'd his lifeRetire, for thou wouldst deere revenge my honour. But he pursueing me, I cry'd out Murder!At which sad noise methought I saw thee enter, But, having nere a sword, I counselld theeTo strangle him with a Lute string, for which crueltyOf mine, me thought he threw an Arrow at me, Which, if thou hadst not wak'd me as thou didst, Would as I slept with my strong feares ha killd me. 

_Ri_. This was the King of _Morocco_: well, I'me gladI came to take away thy fright. 

_La_. But, sweet, you left me with a resolutionTo hunt this morning. Have you done already?

_Ri_. The theeves prevented me. My Stable has been rob'd to night; two geldingsAnd my roane Nagg are vanished. 

_La_. How?

_Ri_. Nay, doe not thou vexe:I have sent hue and cry that may oretake 'em. But come, Ile leave thee to my glasse, And visit Sir _Francis_ now shees return'd. --

 [_Enter Dorothy_. 

How does our Noble guest?

_Do_. Hees pretty well: he has voided one stone sinceAnd now finds ease. 

_Ri_. Tis well: attend your Mistres. [_Exit_. 

_La_. O, wench, I had almost undone my selfe, Come o'tother side, reach me that peticote;Ile tell the storie as I make me ready. 

 _Ex[eun]t_. 

[SCENE 2. ]

 _Enter Device, Sister_. 

_Sis_. Ist possible you can talke thus and be no travailer?

_De_. I have traveld in my fancie, Ladie, and with the Muses, and do formy recreation of witt compose some wonders in verse, poeticall essaies, as once upon the report of a heate that was in _Egipt_. 

_Sis_. Lets heare 'em. 

_De_. _In Countreys I have beenUnder the Equinoctiall, where I have seeneThe Sunne disperse such a prodigious heatThat made our sive-like skins to raine with sweat. Men would have given for an Ecclipse their lives, Or one whisper of Aire; yet each man strivesTo throw up grasse, feathers, nay women, too, To find the wind: all falls like lead, none blew. The Dogstarre spits new fire till't came to passeEach eye became his neighbours burning glasse. Leane men did burne to ashes presentlie, Fatt men did wast to leane Anatomye;Young womens heat did gett themselves with child, For none but they themselves themselves defild;Old women naturally to witches turne, And onely rubbing one another burne. The beasts were bak'd, skin turnd to crust, they say, And fishes in the River boild away. Birds in the aire were rosted and not burn'd, For, as they fell downe, all the way they turn'd_. 

_Sis_. Most excellent!

_De_. I have seene Larkes in that motion at fireWith an Engine of packthread perpendicular. 

_Sis_. What would they have given for a shower in those Cuntries?

_De_. Now you talke of a Shower you shall heareAnother coppie of Verses that I madeOf a mighty raine which fell once in the _Indies_. 

_Sis_. That you made? If you will venture your lungs let me heare moreimpossible stories to passe away the tyme. 

_De. _Heaven did not weepe, but in its swelling eyeWhole Seas of Rhume and moist Catarrs did lie, Which so bespauld the lower world, men seeCorne blasted and the fruit of every tree;Aire was condenst to water gainst their wish, And all their foule was turn'd to flying Fish;Like watermen they throng'd to ply a fare, As though it had been navigable Aire. Beasts lost the naturall motion of each limbe, Forgott to goe with practiseing to swime:A trout now here you would not thinke how sooneTaken and drest for th'Emperour o'the Moone, The fixed Starres, though to our eyes were missingWee knew yet were by their continuall hissing. Weomen were mermaides sailing with the wind, The greatest miracle was fish behind:But men were all kept chast against their wish, And could comitt but the cold sin of fish_. 

_Sis_. And that synne would puzzle all the Civell Lawyers in thekingdome. Sinns of the flesh they are perfect in; they know well enoughwhat belongs to Adultery and simple fornication, but you would muchimprove and oblige the practise of the Court, if you could bring thissinne of fish under the Commission. But now, I hope, the raine is overwe shall have faire weather. 

_De_. Now I can tell you, Lady, what a strange frost was in one part ofthe world--

_Sis_. I shall cry out fire if you doe; I had rather have some discourseto keepe me warm still. 

_De_. Or how the whole world was troubled with the wind Collick. 

_Sis_. No more Earthquakes, I beseech you. Some frends of myne lost agreat deale of land the last terme, and for ought I know tis never liketo be recover'd. Why, all these verses you have honourd me to heare weretranslated out of _French_. 

_De_. You say very right, Lady. 

_Sis_. No, no; they are out of _Spanish_, as I remember. 

_De_. I thinke it be out of _Spanish_, indeed. 

_Sis_. Or else the _Italian_. 

_De_. Troth, I know not which very well. 

_Sis_. And yet you made 'em! Some gentlemen have the faculty to makeverses and forgett what language was the Originall: tis Alamode, Iconfesse, sir. 

_De_. Thers the mischiefe in poetry: a man might have told 200 lies inprose upon his owne name, and never miscaried. --But, leaving these ruderymes, Ladie, how do you like the novice that Sir _Richard_ comended. 

_Sis_. Mr. _Courtwell_?

_De_. Is he not a pretty Chrisome[249]? I could not choose but laugh toobserve in what rurall deportment he came to salute you, that shouldhave made his address in theis postures. 

_Sis_. Tis enough, sir; I apprehend what you would doe. The truth is, touching that thing in black, I doe not love him. 

_De_. I know't; tis impossible. 

_Sis_. Why is't impossible? The man's a pretty indifferent meaning man, but I must have one of a more active spiritt. No, no, the man's aCoward. 

_De_. He lookes like one. 

_Sis_. I put him to't, he dares not fight; and he that expects my favourto so high a degree as marriage must be none of my lord Maiorswhifflers[250]; he must be valiant in Armes. I am not taken with a ringor Caskanet, as some avaritious Ladies; he that presents me with thesword of his rivall is more welcome then all the silken soft natur'd sixhundreds a yeere, that will be baffeld in their best clothes and goedowne into the Country every Vacacon like Atturneys to be beaten againstnext terme and get damage by it, but I forget some affaires thatconcerne me. I take my leave. Your deserts upon me are eminent and many, and for all your noble services I--will promise you nothing: youapprehend me?

_De_. O, sweet Lady, tis too much. 

_Sis_. I am so weary I can stay no longer w'ee. [_Exit_. 

_De_. You make mee over happie. --So, so; the matters done. I may writemy friends. Hum: well thought upon! I shall leave her joyes without anybound to entertaine me if I first beat this foolish rivall of mine andpresent her with his sword. She assures me he dares not fight: it shallbe so. Thus with one baffling and disarming him I shall secure myMistresse and get the reputation of a fighting Cavallier, which may saveme many a knock hereafter among men of strong faith that shall heare howmuch honour I have elsewhere taken upon the ticket. 

[SCENE 3. ]

 _Enter Captaine and Underwit_. 

_Un_. Stand right to your files, make even your rankes, silence!Front to the right hand. As you were. To the right hand about. By the left hand. As you were. Rankes to the right double. Rankes as you were. Rankes to the left double. Midlemen to the right hand double the front; as you were, --to the left, --double the front; middle-men to the right entire [or[251] by division]double the front; files to the right, --to the left, --to the right handcountermarch, --to the right, --to the left, --wheele about--

_Cap_. Ran tan: enough, --you must not wast your lungesToo much at once. March faire and make a Captaine. When these words of Command are rotten (rooted?) weeWill sowe some other military seeds. You beare[252] a braine and memory. 

_Un_. I hope so. 

[_Cap_. [253]] And now you are chose a Captaine for your CountreyYou must give good example to your SoldiersAnd cherish nature after exercise:You must drinke sack, sack is a fortifier. Come, wee'le to the taverne. 

_Un_. With all my heart. 

 [_Enter Mr. Courtwell_. 

Here's Mr. _Courtwell_: lett's take him with us. 

_Cap_. My costive Countrey man? hee's an Anabaptist: he wonot drinke, and yet kist the Cupp of last night, me thought, when his Mistres--drank to him: wee'le try. How ist, my man of mortall breeding?

_Cou_. My man of warre, trebonn. --Your servant, Captaine. 

_Cap_. Why, this was spoke like one of us; canst doo'tAgen? thy voice is more authentick, soundesAs I have heard a Cavalliers in taverne, Or like the merry master of the _Dragon_, Small _Neptune_, that controlls the rich Canaries, When he Comaunds the Tritons of his cellar'Skud, and bring wine, you varlotts, with a flavourFor my Nobilitie. ' Wee were conspiringTo goe to'th taverne. 

_Cou_. Ile make one, gentlemen, to wash away some melancholy. 

_Cap_. Spoke boldlie, like an _Argonaute_. 

_Cou_. I am not now in _London_, Upon a hall day marching with the puisnes, Twenty on's in a teame, to _Westminster_In our torne gownes, embroiderd with _Strand_ dirt, To heare the Law. 

_Cap_. Is not thy father dead, thou talkst so well?How I was cosend in thee: come away. 

 _Enter Thomas_. 

_Un_. Here's my man _Thomas_. 

_Cap_. Now the Newes, Sir _Tristram_. 

_Tho_. Oh the Gentleman is mad. 

_Un_. What gentleman?

_Tho_. Why, Mr. Engine that did faint last night. 

_Un_. With feare of being hang'd for his projections. 

_Cou_. My Uncle told me of him. 

_Cap. Let him to _Bedlam_ then; what makes he here?Clean straw and a good whip are held restoratives. 

_Tho_. He walkes and talkes the madliest; twenty midwivesAre nothing to him, he drownes all their noise. His tongue is twenty ring of Bells, and yettHe seemes so merry. 

 _Enter Engine_. 

_En_. Save you, gentlemen, gallants, Cavalliers. How farre travell you:me thinkes you are very finely accomodated. Are you a Doctor, sir?

_Cap_. No, but I can tell you how to purge, and please you. 

_En_. You say very well. Troth, gentlemen you must pardon me: cry youmercy, your name is Captaine _Underwit_. 

_Un_. Yes, sir, but my mother came of the _Over-muches_ by the _Peake_. She broke my father's hart, and Sir _Richard_ buried her: things must beas please the starres. 

_En_. What thinke you of the blazeing starre in _Germany_? according to_Ptolmy_ tis very strange. Does the race hold at _Newmarket_ for theCup[254]? When is the Cocking, gentlemen? There are a parcell of rareJewells to be sold now, and a man had money. I doe meane to build a veryfine house next summer and fish ponds. What did you heare of the newplay. I am afraid the witts are broke; there be men will make affidavitthat [they] have not heard a good jest since _Tarleton_[255] dyed. Pray, may I crave your name, sir?

_Cou_. My name is _Courtwell_, sir. 

_En_. In your eare; I have a cast of the best Marlins[256] in England, but I am resolv'd to goe no more by water but in my Coach. Did you eversee the great ship?[257]

_Cap_. I have been one of twenty that have dind in her lanterne. 

_En_. It may be so; she is a good sailer. But ile tell you one thing: Iintend to have the best pack of hounds in _Europe_; Sir Richard lovesthe sport well. And then if I can but find out the reason of theloadstone I were happie and would write _Non Ultra_. 

_Cap_. The philosophers stone were better in my opinion. Have you noproject to gett that?

_Cou_. That has startled him: I doubt this fellow does but counterfeit. 

_Un_. What thinke you of the Dromedary that was to be seene at the backside[258] of the _Bell_. 

_En_. I have seene a stranger beast. 

_Cap_. So have I; I have seene you before now, sir. 

_En_. Why then, ile tell you: the strangest beast that ever I saw was anOstridge that eate up the Iron mynes. But now you talke of birds I sawan Elephant beat a Taylor in the fenceing schoole at his owne weapon. 

_Tho_. The _Spanish_ needle?

_En_. He did out eat him in bread, and that was miraculous. I have seenea Catamountaine[259] once; but all was nothing to the wench that turndround and thred needles. 

_Cou_. Troth, sir, I thinke you have turnd round, too, and are notsetled yet. 

_En_. Now you talke of setling I knew a gentleman, that was borne to agood fortune, sold all his land, went to sea in a _Hollander_, was takenby the _Dunkirke_; at seaven yeares end stole away in an _English_botome; after that saw both the _Indies_; for all this was taken by a_Turks_ man of warre, put into the Gallies, and for ought I heare bycredible report is not setled yet. 

_Tho_. Sure he is a great scholler; a man cannot understand him. 

_Un_. His braines are out of tune. 

_En_. Now you talke of Musick theres no man in the world loves musickbetter then I, --ile give you the reason: I have been deafe almost thishalfe yeare, and it came with a cold sitting up a primero. 

_Co_. Now you talke of the cold it puts me in mind of the new device offire for brewing and bakeing. Had you no hand in the project?

_Cap_. Againe hees startled: come, he shall to taverne with us andconfess all. If he do not strip his soule stark naked to us, say I am nofortune teller. --Please you to honour our society: we are going toindulge at the taverne hard by. 

_En_. You shall comand me, sir. Oh the Neats tongues and partargoes thatI have eaten at Stillyard, but of all things in the world I do not lovea black catt: next a brewers cart, there's nothing will stay a man somuch in the night as a Constables. One word before you go, and I beseechyou give me your opinion cleerely: was not the _Morocco_ Ambasadour avery fine gentleman for a pagan?

_Cap_. Yes, surely, and the lead mines in _Darbishire_ hold still forthe Allom businesses. But come; will you walke, Sir?

_En_. I do use to goe a foote sometymes but when I ride; and then I mustconfesse there is no striving with the streame. You were in _London_lately: they say the people are more affected to beare baiting then informer tyme. 

_Cap_. There are some a late are drawne like beares to the stake; butfor your owne part the gout and the grand pox are all one to you. Whatprice beare[s] meat in the shambles?

_En_. Flesh rises and falls as it us'd to doe, sir; but a Countrey lifeis the best when all's done. What thinke you of a bridg from _Lion_ keyto _Flaunders_? You may guess I talke at randum, gentlemen; but you mustnot interpret all foolish discourse a distemper of the braine: Lordswould take it for a _Scandalum Magnatum_ and your Ladies would bee angrytoo. 

 _Enter Sir Francis and Lady_. 

Now you talke of Ladies--

_Cap_. By no meanes, Mr. _Engin_; that gentleman loves you not. Come, ile bring up the rere. Where's _Thomas_?

 [_Exeunt Underwit, Captain, Courtwell and Engine_. 

_Tho_. Ile follow, sir. --I would give my fower marks a yeare that Icould talke like that mad gentleman. Hee's here and there andeverywhere. How will his tongue run when his Coggs are oild; theiledrench him! [_Exit_. 

_Fra_. Although I mist a happines, I applaudYour nimble wit that securd both our honours. You have an excellent Instrument too o' your gentlewoman. 

_La_. Oh she deliver'd to the life how youWere troubled with the Stone. At first I didBeleev't my selfe, and thinke of the sad consequence. But tyme is pretious now: although our StarresHave not been yet propitious to our meetingIle try my art to night to make 'em shine. With happie influence on our Loves. 

_Fra_. Most excellent Madam, how?

_La_. Ile not engageYour visit to my chamber, since the firstProv'd so unfortunate, but come to youres. 

_Fra_. This night? wonot your husband be at home. 

_La_. Yes. 

_Fra_. You enjoy but one bed. 

_La_. Without witchcraft, sir, I have a stratageme to delude my husbandAnd all his jealous waking eyes, a plottThat cannot faile if you dare but expect me. 

_Fra_. I grow immortall with my hopes and fancieMore than the worlds most pretious Empire inOur first embrace. I should runne back intoAn Infant once agen, and by degreesAnd tyme grow up to meet so vast a happines. Ages in expectation spent were pooreAnd easy sufferings weigh'd against this triumph!Methinkes I am not man but something ofA more exalted essence: humane natureHath not capacity to understandAnd owne theis spatious blessings. 

_La_. No more rapture;But with the confidence of a lover spreadYour equall thoughts, and in your heart and armesPrepare an entertainement for that guestThat hath no life or name but what you give. A kisse! and leave our soules to thinke uponThe joyes this night attend us. 

_Fra_. Sullen day, Do not tire now; tis downehill all the way. 

 [_Exeunt severally_. 

_Act the Fourth_. 

[SCENE 1. [260]]

 [_Captain, [261] Underwit, Courtwell and Musicians, discovered in the Tavern_. ]

_Capt_. Come, my _Apollos_, my _Orpheuses_ or my _Bacchus_ hisMinst[rels], which, to leave poeticall expressions, in broader phraseis Taverne fidlers, some of your new tunes, my Masters; doe you heare?

1. Do you meane Mr. _Adson_'s[262] new ayres, Sir?

_Cap_. I, Sir; but they are such phantasticall ayres as it putts a Poetout of his witts to rhime to them; but let mee heare. 

 1 _Play_. 

_Capt_. No, I doe not like that. 

 1 _Play againe_. 

_Capt_. Nor that. (_Play againe_)--No, no, no, neither. 

1. An't please your Worship, Mr. _Capt_. , our Boyes can singe songsto these. 

_Cap_. No, no, saveing your presence, your Boyes have nothing, sarreverence, [263] but Love songs, and I hate those monstruously, tomake thinges appeare better then they are, and that is but _deceptioVisus_, which after some embraceings the parties see presently whatit is. _The Musique Playes_. 

 (_Hee sings and reeks and fillips all the time with his finger, then sayees_:)

_Cap_. I, I, this thumping tune I like a life; a Song, a Song to it!

 _One Singes. This Song. 

 _The Juice of Spanish squeez'd Grapes is It That makes a dull Braine so full of witt; The Lemonades cleere sparkling wine The grosser witts too, doth much refine. Then to bee foxd[264] it is no crime, Since thickest and dull Braines It makes sublime. The Stillyards Reanish wine and Divells white, Who doth not in them sometimes take delight? If with Mimique Gestures you'le keep you from sadnes, Then drinke lusty Clarett twill put you in Madnes; And then to settle you no hopes in Beer But wholesome Potts of Scotch ale though its deere_. 

_Cap_. But looke you, Child, you say the Divells white in your Song. Youhave beene ill catechiz'd, Boy, for a _White Divell_ is but a poeticallfiction[265]; for the Divell, God bless us, Child, is blacke. 

_Boy_. No, Captaine, I say white wine at the Divell. 

_Cap_. That's true; thats a good Boy, indeed. _Underwit_, lend mee aPeice to give these harmonious men there. And now begon, my Masters, without noise, for I will have no more fiddle-faddle for my money, notunes of supererrogation after the Musicall Bill is paid. 

 [_Exeunt[266] omnes_. 

[SCENE 2. ]

 _Enter Thomas_. 

_Tho_. They are all drunke already, and such Confusion in their headsand tongues, my master kisses the next man and calls him Mistres_Dorothy_; Mr. _Courtwell_, possest with the spiritt of defiance to_Cupid_, is ready to beat him for being in love; my Projector dead drunkin a Chaire, and the Captaine peepeing into his mouth like a toothdrawer and powring downe sack which he feeles not, but his chapps shutagaine like a spring lock till he returne with a key to open his teeth, to poure in the next health. 

 _Enter Courtwell_. 

_Cou_. My Cloake and sword, Drawer. 

_Tho_. Tis here, sir. 

_Cou_. Thou art a pretty fellow; here's half a Crowne, say I amgone _Thomas_. 

_Tho_. You are pretty well. 

 _Enter Captaine and Underwit_. 

_Un_. What shalls doe with him; this Engine burnes like _Etna_. 

_Cap_. Throw him into the River. 

_Un_. Hee's able to mull the _Thames_ well, for my owne part wouldMistresse _Dorothy_ were here to open her files. 

_Cou_. Did you not name a woman. I will have no mention of any thingthat's female. 

_Un_. May not a man talke of Sack?

_Cap_. Sack is a soveraigne medicine. 

_Un_. Oh very Soveraigne. 

_Cap_. Is it not _hic et hec_ sack, both for he and she. Stay, is myCountryman gone? come hither, _Thomas_; do you thinke I am drunke?

_Tho_. Truly, Captaine, I cannot tell. 

_Cap_. You cannot tell? there's your ignorance. Drink is a vice I am aslittle given to as another man, for I doe abhorre it in my selfe. I dowonder how any reasonable man can be drunk; therefore every wise mantake Counsell and example by me, and he may see very plainely what anodious thing it is; for you must follow your leader, and vertue, whichis an Antient--

_Tho_. Vertue an Antient?

_Cap_. I, an Antient old gentlewoman that is growne very poore, andnobodie knowes where she dwells very hard to find her out, especiallyfor a Capt. ; you will find it very difficult for a Livetenent. But weewill endeavour the best wee can; you see my courses, I have travel'd tofind her out, and I could never yet see her at a baudihouse. 

_Un_. Who is to be seene at a baudihouse? to the right hand countermarch. 

_Tho_. He talkes of vertue, sir. 

_Un_. Vertue? she never comes there; why do you thinke she should bethere, Captaine?

_Cap_. Why, because she is an old gentlewoman and might keepe the house. 

_Tho_. Alas, Captaine, Mistris _Vertue_ is poore and leane. 

_Cap_. Nay, then she is not fit to be a baud, but tell me did you eversee her, or if so did you ever doo't with her?

_Un_. No, but twas none of my fault; I know not what I may do in timewhen she understands the wordes of Command. 

_Tho_. He does not meane Mistris _Dorothy_: but, Captaine, I would faineknow the reason why your baudes are so fat still. 

_Cap_. A plaine case: they lie fallow and get hart, then they keepethemselves so in health and so soluble with stewd prunes; and thensipping of sack is a great matter to fatten 'em. But they are as goodpeople as a man shall keepe company withall, and bring up the younggentlewomen so vertuously. I came into one of their houses tother dayfor a carreere, and I found the baud sick upon her death bed, veryreligious and much given to repentance for those poore sins she hadcomitted. When she had taken order for her soule, she told me the younggentlewoman I look'd for was in the next roome; and desiring her uponher blessing to give me content, she turnes herselfe to the wall andgives up the ghost very privatly, because she was loth to trouble us. 

_Un_. By your relation theis appeare to be very good people. What if wewent to visit one of these Matrons? I have a great mind--

_Cap_. Wy, now you speake like an understanding soldier, and one thatmay come to something in the end. Lett us therefore march on. 

_Un_. March on to _Venus_ Warres. 

_Cap_. For you know, _Thomas_, that the Spider and the Bee, the Spiderand the Bee, do both--something, but in troth I have forgott what tis. 

_Un_. Tis no matter what; let us goe. 

_Cap_. Goe? no more but goe? though I be a Captaine, if I be not chosenin this imployment--

_Tho_. What, then, Captaine?

_Cap_. Why, then--I cannot goe. 

_Tho_. Very right; but wo' not those young gentlewomen you talk'd ofgive a man something to make a man afraid of pepper upon occasion?

_Cap_. You will be prating so long till I breake your head forpretending to that which you have not, sirra. 

_Tho_. Alas, I never had it in my life. 

_Un_. What's that, Captaine?

_Cap_. Wit, I talke of wit. 

_Un_, Who has any wit? does my man offer to have wit?

_Cap_. Nay, take no offence at it, for I meant none to either of youby this sack. Drawer, give me my oath, cannot you drinke without wit?cannot you game without wit?

_Un_. And yet by your favour the gamesters are cald the wits now. 

_Cap_. Tis no wit to cozen; confederacy and dishonesty will doo'twithout wit. Ile iustifie it: do not you know the receit of Cozenage?take an ounce of knavery at the least, --and confederacie is but so manyknaves put together, --then you must take a very fine young Codling heireand pound him as small as you can. 

_Un_. And what then, Captaine?

_Cap_. Why, then you must cozen him. 

_Un_. But which way?

_Cap_. Which way? Why, which way you will: is not cozen him enough? thouart a pretty fellow, ile talke with thee. Thy name's _Thomas_; takeheed, I say still, _Thomas_, of being drunke, for it doth drowne themortall soule; and yours cannot swim, _Thomas_, --can it?

_Tho_. Not as I know, Captaine; if it scape fire tis as much as Ilooke for. 

_Within Eng_. Oh--oh--

_Cap_. What's that?

_Tho_. Tis Mr. _Engine_ recovered from his dead sleepe. [_Exit_. 

_Un_. D'ee heare, Captaine, for all this I have a great mind to a wench, and a wench I must have if there be one above ground. Oh _London, London_, thou art full of frank tenements, give me _London_. Shall wewheele about yet?

_Cap_. Give you _London_? Wo'nott _Cheapeside_ serve your turne, or the_Exchange_?

 _Enter Thomas_. 

_Tho_. Oh, gentlemen, Mr. _Engine_ is surely bewitch'd. 

_Cap_. What, what's the matter? bring the witch and Mr. _Engine_before us. 

_Tho_. He does vomit the strangest things yonder. 

_Cap_. Did not I say, murder will out?

_Tho_. I thinke he has eaten and drunke nothing but Monopolies, and toohard to be digested they come up againe. 

_Within Eng_. Oh!

_Tho_. Harke, I must hold his head. [_Exit_. 

_Cap_. Did not I tell you something would come out?

_Tho_. Pins, pins, they lay across his throat. I told you he wasbewitch'd. Heyday! cards and dice, out with 'em, the Divells a gamesterand paies the box soundly--Now, now, now. 

_Un_. Whats that?

_Tho_. Tis something clammy, --now, --oh, tis sope!

_Cap_. Sope? give a man leave to wash his mouth. 

_Un_. Does not the lyme burne his throat, _Thomas_?

_Tho_. Alas, poore gentleman, something now agen is ready to stranglehim; out with em, --hides, hides, --it was the hornes stuck in his gullett. 

_Within_. Oh--

_Tho_. Well straind; what a foule stomack he has! open your mouth, Mr. _Engine_. 

_Cap_. Throw downe a pottlepot. 

_Tho_. I have, sir, and it has come up full of medium wine; if you haveany charity come and helpe me to hold his head; now agen!

_Within_. Oh, oh, oh!

_Un_. This is very strange, Captaine; the man is certainely enchanted. 

_Tho_. Master, master, tis _Shrovetuesday_[267] and the prentices arepulling downe _Covent Garden_; the Brickes come as whole out as if hehad swallowed Cherristones. Hey! will you take Tobacco in the Roll? hereis a whole shiplading of _Bermudas_ and one little twopenny paper ofberrinas, with a superscription 'To my very loving friends theCustome-house. '

_Cap_. Put up that for a relique, _Thomas_, and open it upon high dayesto clear the sore eyes of our _Spanish_ Marchants. _Thomas_, no more, but call the Drawer, an understanding Drawer and one that writesorthographie. 

 [_Enter Drawer_. 

--Sirra, I charge you set a padlock upon that Chamber doore; there is adangerous fellow must be brought to his purgation. And looke all thegoods that he hath vomitted be forthcomeing, while we discreetly goe andenforme the Magistrates. --At your perill, sirra, at your perill seale upthe Doore; and do you pay the reckoninge. 

_Un_. Sir _Richard_ is a Justice. There's your money, and yet wee neednot pay; the gentleman hath left enough for the Reckoning in the nextRoome. 

_Un_. I ha made him fast, you are very welcome, gentlemen. All's paid inthe Percullis. 

 [_Exeunt_. 

[SCENE 3. ]

 _Enter Courtwell and Sister_. 

_Sis_. Ile walke no further; if you have a secretTo impart, you need not feare this place; the treesAnd hedges will not listen. What's the business?I hope your phlegmatick stock of verse is spent. 

_Cou_. Why then in prose, the worst that I can speake in, I doe not love you, Lady. 

_Sis_. How? you ha notTraind me thus farr to tell me that?

_Cou_. You areOf all your sex the poorest emptiest trifle, And one with whome tis most impossibleI ere should change Affection; theres nothingTo invite me too't, not so much as thatWee call a seeming reason, upon whichAll Love is built, seeming, I say, not it, My understanding Ladie. 

_Sis_. You thinke I am very dull that you expoundYour witt thus, but it needes no Comentator, Not by the Author, tis so very plaine;But to despise me most of all the sexeIs something oversaid. Though I affectNo flattery, I hate uncivill Language. You do not meane to quarrell, now you haveBetraid me to the feilds, and beat me, Sir?

_Cou_. What is there in your face more to attract meeThen that Red Cowes complexion? Why the DivellDo you thinke I should dote upon your person?That thing when she is stroak'd gives milke. 

_Sis_. By thatI understand all this revenge, becauseYou thinke I did neglect you. Pray, sir, tell me, And tell me seriouslie, put the Case that IShould love you now, could not you love agen?

_Cou_. In troth I thinke I could not. 

_Sis_. You do but thinke. 

_Cou_. Nay, ile bind it with an oath before the parish, And when I have given my reasons, too, the ClarkeShall praise me fort and say Amen. 

_Sis_. What reasons?

_Cou_. I shall be very loathTo say your eyes are twinckling Starres agen, Your lipps twin cherries and out blush the rubie, Your azure veines vye beauty with the SaphireOr that your swelling breasts are hills of Ivory, Pillowes for Jove to rest his amorous head, When my owne Conscience tells me that _Bunhill_Is worth a hundred on 'em, and but _Higate_Compar'd with 'em is Paradice. I thanke you;Ile not be vext and squeez'd about a rimeOr in a verse that's blanke, as I must be, Whine love unto[268] a tune. 

_Sis_. This all your feare?

_Cou_. No, I doe feare to loose my tyme, my businesse, And my witts too, jolting them all awayTo waite on you in prouder Coaches. 

_Sis_. Is this all?

_Cou_. To spend my selfe to nothing and be laugh'd atBy all the world when I shall come at lastTo this reward for all my services, To bee your lay Court Chaplaine and say gravelyA hastie grace before your windowes breakfast. 

_Sis_. But howCame you thus cur'd? You were a passionate(I may say) foole, in hope you will deserve it. What phisick tooke you that hath thus restor'd you?

_Cou_. A little sack had power to cure this madnes. 

_Sis_. I hope you are not sober yet, the humourMay change when you ha slept. 

_Cou_. Ile rather stickMy Eyelids up with Sisters[269] thread and starePerpetually. 

_Sis_. Then you may see me agen. 

_Cou_. I thinke I sha'not, unless it be to wonder, When you are in the Ivie bush, that faceCut upon Tafata, that creame and prunes, So many plums in white broth, that scutcheon ofPretence powderd with ermines. Now I looke upon't, With those black patches it does put me in mindOf a white soule with sinns upon't, and frights me. How sell you grapes? Your haire[270] does curle in bunches;You[r] lipps looke like the parsons glebe, full ofRed, blew and yellow flowers; how they are choptAnd looke like trenches made to draine the meadowe. 

_Sis_. This rudenesIs beyond the manners of a gentleman. 

_Cou_. I cannot helpe it, and I hope you thinke so. 

_Sis_. I am confirm'd that now I am forsaken, But if your passion have not drownd all reasonI pray let us part civilly. 

_Cou_. With all my heart; I dare then take my leave, to[o]. 

_Sis_. Whoe's there?

_Cou_. Where?

_Sis_. Behind that tree?

_Cou_. You have no plott to accuse me for a rape?Twas at the worst but felony, for cherriesThat look'd as they had been a fortnight gather'd. 

_Sis_. I know youle bring me home in Curtesie. 

_Cou_. Not I, I wo' not trust my selfe; and youWill hardly meet a worse to interrupt you. Fare you well, Ladie. --Do you see that Bull?

_Sis_. Yes, Sir. 

_Cou_. That is a happie beast

_Sis_. Why happie, sir?

_Cou_. He writes no verses to his Mistresse, isNot cosend nor forsworne to gett her favour, Bestowes no rings nor empties his ExchequerTo appear still in new rich suites, but livesFree o' the stock of Nature, yet loves none. Like the great _Turke_ he walkes in his Seraglio, And doth command which concubine best pleases;When he has done he falls to graze or sleepe, And makes as he had never knowne the Dun, White, Red or Brindled Cowe. 

_Sis_. You are unmanly. 

_Cou_. Nay, I know you will raile now; I shall like it. Call me a scurvy fellow, proud and saucie, An ill bred, crooked Clowne; ile here this ratherThen live upon your pitty. And yet doe not;For, if you raile, too, men that know you canDissemble, may beleeve you love me, andTis not my ayme. 

_Sis_. You are a fine man!

_Cou_. I am in my best clothes?

_Sis_. I perceaveThat tis truth now what the world saies of you, And yet tis strange. 

_Cou_. 'Twere strange it should be otherwise. 

_Sis_. You give your tongue a licence, nor will I hopeYour malice should spare me abroad that haveSo prodigally abus'd a Ladies fameThat deserv'd nobly from you; but you menCare not whose name you blast with a loose character, So you maintaine your pride of talke. 

_Cou_. Howe's this?It is confess'd I have talk'd in my tymeAnd talk'd too much, but not too much of you;For I but seldome thought of such a woman:For any other--

_Sis_. Nay, sir, I am satisfied;You can talke your pleasure. 

_Cou_. Have I not done it, too?

_Sis_. Yes, by your own report, and with a ladySo much in vertue and in birth above you;And therefore I expect not--

_Cou_. Stay; this moves me. I never tooke a pleasure yet to lieWith Ladies fames, or ever thought that sportLay in the tongue. Such humours are for menThat live by brothell offices: let me knowWho hath traduc'd me to you thus, he shallBe knowne no more. 

_Sis_. Ile not be guiltie, sir, Of any murder; when we meet agen, And you in better humour, I may tell you. So farewell, _Gondarino_, [271] nothing's lostWhen you turne _Woman Hater_. [_Exit_. 

_Cou_. She has vext me. If we make Matrimony after this rate, The Divell is like to dance at our wedding. Ho!

 _Enter Device_. 

_De_. Hee's here, Alone too, and the place most opportune. How shall I beginne?--Mr. _Courtwell_, do you loveAny friend of mine?

_Cou_. Not to my knowledge, Sir; I should be sorry. 

_De_. Do not you love a gentlewoman?

_Cou_. If she be a friend of yours ile take the firstOccasion to neglect her for your sake. 

_De_. It will become your wisdome and your safety. 

_Cou_. What mischiefe have done to your face?

_De_. My face?

_Cou_. You looke so scurvily; come hither, thouNew Monster, with more feet then a Caterpiller;What tyme a day ist? you that move uponSo many wheeles, say, Monsier, are you notA walkeing Clock? I have a mighty mindTo see you tooke a peeces. 

_De_. I doe not like this. --You wo'not put me, sir, together againe. 

_Cou_. I wo'not take the paines. Why do you smile now?

_De_. At your conceite to thinke I was a Clock:I am a watch, I never strike. --Hee's valiant. 

_Cou_. You have pretty colours there; are these your Mistresses?

_De_. If you did know the mistery you would applaud 'em. Have you read _Livre de blason_? What meane you?

_Cou_. I will bestow 'em, sir, upon some forehorse?They will become a countrey teame rarely. 

_De_. Mor bleu!Why, you dare fight, it seemes, and I was toldYou were no Cavellier, a very dreame [droane?]A wedg for men to breake their swords upon. I shall never trust fame agen for your sake. 

_Cou_. Thou never cosendst me. 

_De_. I was never so illiterate in man. 

_Cou_. For I did ever thinke thou durst not fenceBut at a complement; a glittering vapour, A thing of clothes and fitt for chambermaidesTo whet their witts upon, but now resolveEither to have your skin flead of or fight wo' meFor troubling my present meditations. 

_De_. Why, sir, if you be serious I shall quitThat prejudice you have upon my valour. Looke you, sir, I can draw, and thus provok'dI dare chastise you, too. Cause I was merryI was not bound to feed your spleen eternallyWith laughter; yet I am not ignorantWhat an advantage, sir, your weapon gives youIn length. 

_Cou_. Wee'le change; why, this is honour in thee. 

 [_They measure and Device getts both weapons_. 

_De_. Now, sir, keepe of. 

_Cou_. Th'art not so base?

_De_. I never cosen'd you, do you remember?These two will guide me on the rope. 

_Cou_. You meane to dance, then?

_De_. Yes, the Canaries, [272] but with quicker tymeThen you, I hope, can follow: thus I begin. Fa, la, la, &c. [_Excurrit_. 

_Cou_. What a heathen Coward's this? how the rogue tripps like a fairieto the towne with 'em! He has been a footman, sure; I have not aireenough to overtake him, and twill be darke presently. If I loose thesight on him ile search the towne, and if I find him not there, pursuehim with hue and cries and after hang him. 

 [_Exit_. 

[SCENE 4. ]

 _Enter Sir Francis, a taper prepar'd_. 

_Fra_. The sun whose busie eye is still employ'dA spie upon our actions, tir'd with waiting, Is drowsie gone to bed, about whose pillowNight hath hung all her wings and set up tapersAs if the Day were timerous like a ChildAnd must have lights to sleepe by. Welcome allThe houres that governe pleasure, but be slowWhen you have blest me with my wishes. TimeAnd Love should dwell like twins; make this your bowerAnd charme the aire to sweetnes and to silence. Favour me now and you shall change your states;Time shall be old no more, I will contractWith Destiny, if he will spare his wingesTo give him youth and beauty, that we mayFind every minute a fresh child of pleasure. Love shall be proud to be no more a boyBut grow to perfect strength and bold consistence[273];For when too Active Lovers meet, so happieAs wee, whose equall flames light to embraces, Twill be no weight to number many yearesIn our delights and thinke all age a blessing. But language is to narrow to expresseWhat I expect, tis fitt my soule retireTill she present her selfe; and, if it canMeasure my hop'd for ioyes with thought, prepareTo entertaine the happines. 

 [_Exit_. 

[SCENE 5. ]

 _Sir Richard and his Lady abed. Enter Dorothy with a Light_. 

_Do_. I have set already my designe a moveingTo take my Captaine _Underwit_, who in wineWas late more feirie upon me. I'th meane tymeI cannot choose but laugh at the deviceWee have to cheat my Master; sure the DivellIs a great friend to women that love men, He doth so furnish us with quaint inventions. Presently after supper she beganHer fitt othe toothach, and did counterfeitSo naturally; but since she went to bedShe almost rav'd by turnes:--I heare her at it. 

_La_. Oh--oh, whoe's there?

_Do_. Tis I forsooth, I heard you groane and IHave not the hart to sleepe. Shall I watch by you?

_La. Oh, no, no, no; get you to bed, make fast the Chamber;I cannot endure the candle. 

 [_Dorothy towards the dore putts out the Candle and returnes_. 

_Ri_. Deare hart be patient. 

_La_. I, you have your homilies of patience, but if you had my painetwould make you wild. Oh!

_Ri_. Ile send for the _french_ toothdrawer in the morning. 

_La_. Oh, there is no rack nor torture like it. What shall I do? I shallnever sleepe agen. 

_Ri_. Which tooth ist?

_Do_. --The sweet one you may be sure which troubles her. 

_La_. This, this, O that there. 

_Ri_. They are happie that are old and have no teeth. 

_La_. Oh, take heed, now it shoots up to my head. 

_Ri_. Thou dost make my head ake with the noise. 

_La_. If you knew what I suffer your head would ake indeed. I must riseand walke in the Chamber; there is no remedy. 

_Ri_. You will catch more cold. 

_La_. Oh, no, no, deere life, do not crosse me; and you were in mytorment you would rise and trie any thing for a little ease. It cannotbe worse; the paine sure came with a cold, and who knowes but an othercold may cure me. 

_Ri_. I prethe come to bed agen. 

_La_. So, so, do not troble me; I am now in some little ease; its aheavenly thing to be goeing. 

_Ri_. Dost heare?

_La_. Your noise will bring my paine back agen; if you knew what avexation it were for me to speake, You wo'not put me too't so. If youdoe talke I wo'not answere a word more, oh!

_Ri_. Well by this no light ile to _London_ tomorrow. 

 [_She takes Dorothy by the hand and exit_. 

Now do I see it is possible that a womans teeth should be astroublesome as her tongue. 

_Do_. Oh, oh!

_Ri_. I cannot choose but pitty her, that any woman should hold so muchpaine in a hollow tooth. 

_Do_. --If my Mr. Touched with so much compassion should rise and forceme to bed with him, I must not cry out a rape; tis at the worst on myside but fornication in my owne defence. 

_Ri_. I prethe come to Bed. 

_Do_. Oh, oh, oh!

_Ri_. The musick at a convocation of Catts upon a witches upsetting isthe spheres to this Catterwalling. I will thrust my head into thepillow, as _Dametas_[274] did in a bush when the beare was a comeing, and then I shanot heare her. 

_Do_. Oh, this is a kind of Purgatory for sins of the flesh. If sheshould fall asleepe with the tother knight it is not possible I shouldhold out till morning; that which would fright away an Ague would put meinto a feare, I shall ha the toothache indeed with counterfeiting; Ihave knowne some men caught the stammers so; my gums begin to murmure, there is a feare all over my flesh, she will stay so long, and then---

_Ri. Coughs_. --Uh, uh!

_Do_. Oh, oh!--Ile shift places to shew more distraction; at the worstmy noise shall be within his reach; it may give her notice to returnetoo. [_Exit_. 

[SCENE 6. ]

 _Sir Francis a sleepe; a table, inke, and paper. Enter Lady_. 

_La_. I am full of feares, and my owne motion frights me;This furious love is a strange pilot. Sir, Where are you? ha! asleepe! can any dulnesThat is not Death possess a gentleman, So valiant in desires, when he expectsTo meete his Mistresse? How I blush to raise him!Was I not worth thy waking expectation?Farewell; yet something that [like?] a charme that's fastnedTo my poore hart restraines me. Inke and paper!Ile leave him a short monument of this shameAnd my neglected Love. [_Writes_. He knowes my hand: farwell, forgetfull Lover. [_Exit_. 

_Fra_. What? have I slept? some witchcraft did betrayMy eyes to so much darkenes; yet my dreameWas full of rapture, such as I with allMy wakeing sence would flie to meet. Me thoughtI saw a thousand Cupids slide from heaven, And landing here made this their scene of revells, Clapping their golden feathers which kept tymeWhile their owne feet strook musike to their dance, As they had trod and touched so many Lutes. This done, within a Cloud formd like a Throne, She to whom love had consecrate this night, My Mistresse, did descend and, comeing toward me, My soule that ever wakes, angrie to seeMy body made a prisoner and so mock'd, Shook of the chaines of sleepe, least I should looseEssentiall pleasure for a dreame. Tis happie;I will not trust my selfe with ease and silence, But walke and waite her comeing that must bless me. Forgive me, you bright starres, and do not frowneThat I have not attended as becameOne that must live by your kind influence. Not yet appeard? She did comand I shouldWith confidence expect her. Ha! what's here?This Character, was not visible before. _That man's too much compos'd of phleameWill loose his Mistress for a Dreame_. [_Reades_. Tis her's, I know't; she has been here, oh fatall!And finding me asleepe scorn'd to uncharmeMy dull and cursed silence. This distracts me:Have I so long, with so much Art and study, Labour'd this honour, and obtaind what myAmbition look'd at, her consent; and whenThe tree it selfe bowed downe its golden fruitAnd tempted me to gather, must I makeMy selfe uncapable and be guilty ofSo black, so base a forfeit? I could teareMy eyelids of, that durst let in a MistSo darke and so destroying, must I sleepeAt such a tyme that the Divell must be overWatche too! This houre hath blasted such a hopeAs the Earth never teemd with nor the springGave up in smileing blosomes to the breathOf those sweet windes that whisper from the WestA tale of triumph to the yeere. I couldDissolve with curseing of my Lathargie. How shall I looke upon her face whose loveAnd bold adventure I have thus rewarded?But passion cannot cure my wound; which mustBleed till I see her, and then either cease, Blest by her pardon, or dismiss a life(Though iust) too poore a Sacrifice for her anger. Where shall I hide my selfe and shame for ever!

 [_Exit_. 

_The Fifth Act_. 

 _Enter Sister_. 

_Sis_. I cannot forgett my carelesse gentleman: his neglect andreproaches have wrought strangely upon me. --Hee's here. 

 _Enter Courtwell_. 

_Cou_. Is there not a weesill crept into your Chamber, lady?

_Sis_. A weesill, sir?

_Cou_. A Mounsier sucklegge. 

_Sis_. Do you take my Chamber for a henns neast?

_Cou_. There is a thing that calls himselfe _Device_, One that will break the hart of a post horseTo continue a hand gallop with him; your Alamode, Your fighting faery feather'd footed servant, --When saw you him?

_Sis_. My fighting servant? has he beaten you, sir?Perhapps he thought you were his Rivall; surelyI saw him not since yesterday. 

_Cou_. Bu'y, Ladie. --How many mile ist to the next Cutlers?The rogue has pawn'd or sold my sword. [_Offers to go forth_. 

_Sis_. Dee heare, sir?I can tell you now what Lady twas you didAbuse so. 

_Cou_. I abuse a Ladie! tell me the slaveReported it. I hope twill prove this Mounsieur. If ere we meet agen! Who wast?

_Sis_. Upon condition, sir, you will requite meBut with one gentle favour. 

_Cou_. Any thing--

_Sis_. You must sitt downe and heare me then while IAt a distance thus deliver--

_Cou_. Tis more state. 

_Sis_. I am most unfortunate. 

_Cou_. In what, deare Damsell?

_Sis_. And much wrongd by a gentleman I lov'd. 

_Cou_. Can he be a gentleman that daresWrong so much love and beauty? what's the offence?

_Sis_. He wo'not love agen. 

_Cou_. And you would haveThe stubborne man corrected?

_Sis_. I would beRevengd if I knew how, and honour himShould do me Justice. 

_Cou_. Name the man; Ile doot. 

_Sis_. I cannot. 

_Cou_. How?

_Sis_. Yet turne your face: alas, it is yourselfe. I have your word to punish him. 

_Cou_. Sweet Ladie, I am well acquainted with the worthy gentleman, But will not kill nor strike him, for I knowHe has just reason not to love you--youOf all your sex; he told me so. 

_Sis_. His reason?

_Cou_. Was in these wordes; suppose you hear him speak it;Now do you sit--Lady, when I consider you, The perfect frame of what we can call hansome, With all your attributes of soule and body, Where no addition or detraction canBy _Cupids_ nicer Crittick find a fault, Or _Mercury_ with your eternall flame;And then consider what a thing I amTo this high Character of you, so low, So lost to noble merits, I despaireTo love a Mistresse cannot love agen. 

_Sis_. This is a much dissembled Modesty. 

_Cou_. Therefore give me the kinder Chambermaid, That will returne me love for my two peecesAnd give me back twelve pennyworth agen, Which is as much as I can well receave;So there is thirty and nyne shillings cleereGotten in Love, and much good do her too't;I thinke it very well bestow'd. 

_Sis_. But if I thinke you worthy, and acceptYour service, it destroies this other reasonFor your despaire. Why, I can praise you, too. 

_Cou_. No, lett it alone I have other reasons LadyAmong my papers. But to love or to be in loveIs to be guld; that's the plaine _English_ of _Cupids Latine_. Beside, all reverence to the calling, IHave vowd never to marry, and you knowLove may bring a Man toot at last, and thereforeMy fine Gewgaw do not abuse me. 

_Sis_. How can IWhen you will neither Love nor marry me?

_Cou_. I was not made for a husband. 

_Sis_. But I would make you. 

_Cou_. I know what you would make me. 

 _Enter Servant_. 

_Ser_. Mounsier _Device_, if you be alone, would present his service. 

_Cou_. Is he come?

_Sis_. Sir, do me but one favour, ile recantMy Love, I wonot have so much as oneGood thought on you; I will neglect you, sir, Nay and abuse you, too, if you obscureBut for three minutes. 

_Cou_. Ile have patience so long. 

_Sis_. Admitt him. --I wilbe reveng'd o' somebody. --Now, Sir. 

 _Enter Device_. 

_De_. I ha brought you a weapon, Lady. 

_La_. Mee, what to do, Sir?

_De_. Tis Justice I present it to your feeteWhose love arm[e]d me to vindicate your honour. 

_Sis_. My honour?

_De_. This is but the first of my valour in your cause;If you affect these Monuments ile makeYou up an Armorie; meane tyme receaveMy Service with this sword: if he provoke meTo fight with him agen, Ile cut his hand ofAnd bring that wo' me to present the next. 

_Sis_. Whose hand, deare servant?

_De_. He is not worth the nameing; las, this does notDeserve your knowledge. Only thinke what IDare do when your bright name is question[e]d, And I in tyme may merit to be caldThe darling of your virgin thoughts. 

_Sis_. I pray stay. My name traduc'd? who was so impudent?Do me the grace to let me know on whomeYour valour had been exercis'd. 

_De_. Why, the formall thing _Courtwell_; I would [not] call himGentleman; but that I ha baffled himYou need no other witnes but his swordWith that fine holliday hilt, Ladie. 

 [_She shutts the Doore_. 

_Sis_. Looke you, sir, I ha made fast the Doore, Because I meane before you goe to haveA satisfaction for the base injuryYou ha done me. 

_De_. I done you injurie!

_Sis_. Not that I value _Courtwell_, whome you wouldPretend has been to saucy with my honour;But, cause I scorne to owne a goodnes shouldDepend upon your sword or vindication, Ile fight with you my selfe in this small vollumeAgainst your bulke in folio. 

_Cou_. Excellent wench!

_De_. I was your Champion, lady. 

_Sis_. Ide rather have no fame then heare thee name it. Thou fight for a Ladies honour and disarmeA gentleman, thou! fence before the pageantsAnd make roome for the porters, when like ElephantsThey carry once a yeare the Citty Castles, Or goe a feasting with the Drum and foot boyesTo the _Bankeside_ and save the Beares a whippingThat day thou art cudgeld for thy saucy challengingA sergeant with one eye, that was to much too. Come, Sir, I meane to have a bout with you. 

_De_. At that weapon?

_Sis_. This, and no other. 

_De_. Ile rather bleed to death then lift a swordIn my defence, whose inconsiderate brightnesMay fright the Roses from your cheeke and leaveThe Lillies to lament the rude divorce. But were a Man to dare me, and your enemy, My rage more nimble then [the] _Median_ shaftShould flie into his bosome, and your eyeChange anger into smiles to see me fightAnd cut him into a ragged staffe. 

 _Enter Courtwell_. 

_Cou_. I can hold no longer. You have gott a stomack, Sir, with running;ile try how you can eate a sword. 

_De_. Ha you an ambush, Lady? Ile cry out murder. Is two to one faire play?

_Cou_. Let me cut one legg of, to marre his running. 

_De_. Hold, let me speake. 

_Cou_. What canst thou say for thy baseness?

_De_. Some men loves wit, and can without dishonourEndure a jeast. Why, do you thinke I know notYou were here, and but obscur'd to see my humour. I came to waite upon you with your sword, I. 

_Cou_. How came you by'te? confesse before this Lady. 

_De_. Dost thinke her witts so limber to believeI could compell it from thee. Twas a trick, A meere conceipt of mirth; thou sha't ha mine. Dost thinke I stand upon a sword? Ile gi' theeA case of Pistolls when we come to _London_;And shoot me when I love thee not. Pox ont, Thou apprehende'st me well enough. 

_Cou_. But I am notSatisfied: do you affect this gentlewoman?

_De_. Hum. 

_Cou_. You will resolve, sir?

_De_. As may become a stranger; ile not looseThy friendship for all woman kind. 

_Cou_. He dares not owne you. 

_Sis_. I easilie forgive him; I should hateMy selfe, if I depended on his pitty. 

_Cou_. Th'art a noble wench. Shall we leave ofThese jigs and speake our harts in earnest? ByThese twin lips I love thee extreamely. 

_Sis_. Sweare by your owne. 

_Cou_. They shall bee mine. Mounsier, For your penance you shall along and witnes. 

_Sis_. What, I pray?

_Cou_. The Priest shall tell you; come, we have both dissembled, We do love one another. 

_Sis_. Tis not possible. 

_Cou_. Unless you will denie me i'the church. I ha vou'd to lie with you to night: _Device_, Amble before and find the parson out;We will bee friends and thou shalt be her father. 

_De_. I must maintaine my humour or be beaten. [_Ex_. 

_Cou_. Come, weele have no more acquainted. 

_Sis_. Very pretty. --I may deceave you yet for all your confidence. 

_Cou_. If the skie fall weele have the larkes to supper. 

 [_Exeunt_. 

[SCENE 2. ]

 _Enter Ladie, Sir Francis, Dorothy_. 

_La_. It was strange neglect, sir. 

_Fra_. I confesse it, And not deserve to live for't; yet if youBut knew my sufferings--

_La_. Let her be Judge. 

_Fra_. By no meanes, Madam. 

_La_. You may trust her knowledge. 

_Fra_. This is worse then a whipping now; these LadiesHave no mercy on a delinquent. I must stand toot. There is no tyrant to a chamberwomanMade judg in such a cause; Ide give a LimbeTo be quit now, but, if she choose, I amA Criple for this world. 

_Do_. Ist possible a man and such a beast?

_Fra_. So, I must to the shameles. 

_La_. What punishment can be equall to the offence?

_Do_. He lookes with some compunction for his fault. Troth, Madam, choose an other night and tryeWhether he will sleepe agen. 

_Fra_. Mercifull wench!If we peece agen it shall be a good turne in thy way. 

_La_. My husband is this day resolv'd for _London_;It is his humour, or els, worse, suspition. Ther's no pretence for him to stay behind. 

_Do_. You have made ill use of your time, Sir _Francis_;I know not how to helpe you. Seaven yeare henceYou may have such an other oportunitie. 

_La_. Watch if my husband come not this way, _Dorothy_. --Well, sir, though your transgresse deserve no pardon, Yet I am charitable upon Condition--

_Fra_. Anything, Madam. This shewes exlent in you;No pennance shall displease so you absolve me. Bid me to clime some Rock or Pyramide, Upon whose narrow spire you have advanc'dMy peace, and I will reach it or else fall, Lost to the world in my attempt. 

_La_. You speakeGloriously; the condition that assuresYour pardon, 's only this--that you concludeHere all your loose desires with a resolveNever to prosecute or hope to enjoy me. 

_Fra_. Call you this Charity? let me rather looseYour pardon then for ever to be thus forfeited;Bind me never to see you (and yet thatWere cruelty) then charme me to forgettThat I am man or have a hart, and youA beauty, which your absence can as wellMake nothing as devide from my adoring. It is not cure but killing to prescribeI never must enjoy you. If you haveResolv'd a Death upon me, let it beeWhen we like Lovers have embrac'd--

_La_. It is not possible. 

_Fra_. Nothing in loveCan be impossible to willing mindes. Ile tell you, Madam--(sure the Divell hasForsworne the flesh)--there may be a plot. I have it!An exelent rare devise, if you but favour it. Your husband is imediately for _London_, I must in modesty ride with him; youAre left behind. 

_La_. How can that profitt you?

_Do_. --What a deale of submission these foolish menTrouble us women with, that are more forwardTo be friends agen then they are!

_Fra_. I will counterfeit a fall. 

_La_. A fall?

_Fra_. I, from my horse; observe me, then--

_Do_. --My confederate, I hope, by this time is at gateEnquiring for Sir _Richard_ very formallyFrom the old knight, his Master, and good Ladie. The fellow has witt to manage it. 

_Fra_. My footman shall pretend himselfe the SurgeonTo attend me; is't not rare?Stand but to'th fate of this, and if it faileI will sitt downe a Convert and renounceAll wanton hope hereafter. Deerest Madam, If you did meane before this honour to me, Let not your loving thoughts freeze in a Minuit. My genius is a prophet. 

_Do_. Sir _Richard_, Madam, Is comeing this way. 

_Fra_. Shall I hope agen?

_La_. I wo'not say you shall despaire. 

_Fra_. You blesse me. [_Exit_. 

_Do_. My busines is a foote; your Jewell, Madam, Will credit much the cause. 

_La_. Wee will withdrawAnd let me know how you have cast the plott. 

 [_Exeunt_. 

(SCENE 3. )

 _Enter Sir Richard, opening a Letter; a Footman waiting_. 

_Ri_. From thy Master? his name?

_Foo_. Sir _Walter Littleland_. 

_Ri_. I doe not know him. 

_Foo_. His name is well knowne in _Lincolnsheire_ neere the fenns: therewere his family antient gentlemen before the Conquest; some say eversince the flood. 

_Ri_. _Littleland_!

_Foo_. But he has now more land then three of the best in the shire, thanke the _Duchmen_ that have drunk up all the water. 

_Ri_. They water drinkers?

_Foo_. Why not, as well as eate dry land? they are lin'd with butter, Sir, and feare no Dropsie. 

_Sir Richard reades_. 

_She has been absent theis two yeares; the occasion, her dislike anddisaffection to a gentleman whome I confesse I did too seveerely urgeher to marry. If she have liv'd with you, as my late intelligence hathenformed me, in the nature of a servant, which is beneath my wishes andher condition, I hope upon this knowledge you will with consideration ofher quality (she being the onely Child and heire to my fortune) use herlike a gentlewoman. And though my yeares have made me unfitt fortravell, I do intend, upon returne of your Letters, personally to giveyou thankes for your respects to my Daughter, whome I shall receave asnew blessing from you, and be happie upon any turne presented toexpresse my selfe for your favours, your true friend and servant_ _W. Littleland. _

My maide _Dorothy_ a Knights Daughter and heire! Doe you know your yongMistresse. 

_Foo_. I shall be happie to see her and present her with a Letter & sometoken from her Ladie Mother. 

_Ri_. I pray trust me to deliver it. 

_Foo_. With all my hart, Sir, you may comand. 

 [_Enter Thomas_. 

_Ri_. _Thomas_, pray entertaine this footman in the butterie; let himdrinke and refresh himselfe, and set the cold chine of Beefe before him:he has ranne hard. 

_Tho_. That will stay his stomach, indeed, but Claret is your onlybinder. 

_Foo_. Sack, while you live, after a heat, Sir. 

_Tho_. Please you, my friend, ile shew you the way to be drunke. 

 [_Exit. [Tho. With footman_. 

_Ri_. To my loving Daughter. May not this be a trick?By your favour, Madam. [_He opens the Letter_. 

 _Enter Underwit_. 

Captaine, gather you the sence of that Letter while I peruse this. Youknow Mistress _Dorothy_. 

_Un_. I have had a great desire to know her, I confess, but she isstill like the bottome of the map, _terra incognita_. I have been along tyme hovering about the _Magellan_ streights, but have made nonew discoveries. 

_Ri_. Ha! this is not counterfeit, I dare trust my owne Judgment; tis avery rich one. I am confirmed, and will scale them up agen. My Ladieswoman Sir _Walter Littlelands_ Daughter and heire! What think you now ofMistris _Dorothy_?

_Un_. A great deale better than I did; and yet I have lov'd her thishalfe yeare in a kind of way. O' my conscience why may not I marry her?

_Ri_. This Jewell was sent by her mother to her. 

_Un_. Deere Uncle conseale till I have talk'd with her. Oh for somewitchcraft to make all sure. 

_Ri_. I like this well; shees here. 

 _Enter Dorothy_. 

_Un_. I vow, Mistris Dorothy, if I were immodest twas the meere impudenceof my sack and not my owne disposition; but if you please to accept mylove now, by the way of Marriage, I will make you satisfaction like agentleman in the point of honour. 

_Do_. Your birth and estate is to high and unequall for me, sir. 

_Un_. What care I for a portion or a face! She that has good eyes hasgood----Give me vertue. 

_Do_. You are pleas'd to make your mirth of me. 

_Un_. By this Rubie, nay you shall weare it in the broad eye of theworld, dost thinke I am in Jeast. 

_Do_. Sir _Richard_--

_Un_. And were he ten Sir _Richards_, I am out of my wardship. 

_Do_. --How he flutters in the lime bush! it takes rarely. 

_Un_. What a necessary thing now were a household Chaplaine. 

 [_Ext. [Dorothy & Underwit_. 

_Ri_. So, so, the wench inclines. I will hasten my journey that I mayappear with more excuse when they are married in my absence. 

 _Enter Captaine and Engine_. 

_Cap_. Sir, I heare you are for _London_ presentlie;It will concerne you take this gentlemanAlong w'ee to bee cur'd. 

_Ri_. Mr. _Engine_ sick!

_Cap_. Oh, sir, Dangerously; he has purg'd his stomack, but the ill spirittsAre flowne into his head and spoild his eares. He was ever troubled with Devices in his head;I stronglie feare he must have his scull open'd, His brains are very foule within. I knowAnd can direct you to an excle'nt Surgeon. 

_En_. I cannot heare you, Captaine--

_Cap_. One that has a rare dexteritie at lanceingOr opening of a stomack that has crudities;So neat at separation of a limbeAnd quartering of treason. 

_Ri_. You meane the hangman?

_Cap_. He has practised late to mend his hand, and nowWith the very wind and flourish of his instrumentHe will strike flatt a projector at twelve score. 

_Ri_. Does he not heare you?

_Cap_. He has lost that sence he saies, unless he counterfeits;It wilbe your securitie to see himSafe in the Surgeons hands. [_they whisper_. 

_En_. --Into what misery have my Projects flung me!They shanot know I understand 'em. ThatI were quitt with loss of both my eares, althoughI cut my haire like a Lay Elder, too, To shew the naked conyholes! I doe thinkeWhat cursed Balletts will be made upon meAnd sung to divilish tunes at faire and MarkettsTo call in cutpurses. In a puppet play, Were but my storie written by some scholler, Twould put downe _hocas pocas_ and the tumblersAnd draw more audience than the MotionOf _Ninivie_[275] or the dainty docile horse[276]That snorts at _Spaine_ by an instinct of Nature. 

_Cap_. Ile leave him to you and seeke out Captaine _Underwit_. [_Exit_. 

_Ri_. Come, Master _Engine_, weele to horse imediately. 

 [_Exeunt_. 

[SCENE 4. ]

 _Enter Courtwell, Sister and Device_. 

_Cou_. So, we are fast enough, and now I have theeIle tell thee all the fault I find; thou hastA little too much witt to bee a wife;It could not be too nimble for a Mistresse. --_Device_, there is a part still of your pennanceBehind. You would pretend to be a Poet;Ile not disgrace the name to call thee one, But let me have rimes against we go to bed, Two Anagrams that weigh an ounce, with coment, And after that in verse your AffidavitThat you do wish us joy, and I discharge you. 

_De_. Tis tyme I were at study then. 

_Cou_. About e'm:Your double congey and depart with silence. [_Exit Device_. Now prethe tell me who reported IHad wrong'd a Ladie? Wast not thy revengeTo make me angrie?

_Sis_. Twas, indeed. Now tell me:Why at the first approach seem'd you so modest?You have confidence to spare now. 

_Cou_. Troth I came notWith any wooing purpose; only to pleaseMy Uncle, and try thy witt; and that converted me. 

 _Enter Thomas_. 

_Tho_. Did you see my Master, Captaine _Underwit_?

_Cou_. Yes, hee's talking with the priest and Mistris _Dorothy_. 

_Tho_. Her fathers footman was here; she is a knights daughterAnd heire, but she does not know it yet. 

_Sis_. I thinke so. 

_Cou_. Where's my Uncle. 

_Tho_. A mile ons way to _London_ by this tyme withSir _Richard_. I long to see my Master. [_Exit_. 

_Cou_. Wee shall want companie to dance. 

 _Enter Ladie_. 

_Sis_. My Sister. 

_Cou_. If you please, Madam, you may call me Brother:We have been at 'I _John_ take the _Elizabeth_'. A possett and foure naked thighes a bedTo night will bid faire earnest for a boy, too. 

_Sis_. Tis even so; Madam, the preist has done it. 

_La_. May then all joyes attend you; if this hadBeen knowne, it might have staid Sir _Richard_ andYour Uncle one day more. 

 _Enter Underwit, Dorothy, Captaine, Thomas_. 

_Un_. Come for another Couple. 

_Tho_. In hell[277]; my Master is married. 

_La_. My husband left some letters and a tokenWas sent you Mistris _Dorothy_. You did illTo obscure your selfe so much; you shall not wantHereafter all respects that may become you. 

_Do_. Madam, I know not what you meane. 

_Cap_. She wonot take it upon her yet. 

_Un_. Theres the sport. 

 _Enter Device_. 

_De_. Oh, Madam, newes, ill newes, an accidentWill blast all your mirth: Sir _Francis_--

_Cou: La_. What of him?

_De_. Has brooke--

_Cou_. His neck?

_De_. You guest very neere it, but his shoulderHas sav'd that joynt. A fall from's horse, they say, Hath much endanger'd him. 

_Cou_. My Uncle hurt! [_Exit_. 

_La_. He has kept his word; now if he but counterfeit handsomely. 

_Un_. Mounsier _Device_, I must entreat a Courtesie; you have wit, andI would have a Masque to entertaine my new father-in-law Sir _WalterLittleland_. Mistres _Dorothy_, now my wife, is his onely Daughter andheire. 

_Do_. Who has guld you thus? I am no knights _Daughter_;You may share your poeticall invention, sir. 

_De_. Give you joy, Captaine. 

_Un_. She is still loth to confesse it. 

 _Enter Sir Francis, Lady, Courtwell, Sister, Captaine_. 

_Fra_. If you have charity a bone setter. 

_La_. He does counterfeit rarely. --Wheres Sir _Richard_?

_Fra_. He rid before, but I sent my footman to tell him this misfortune. Oh, Madam!

_La_. --This is better then the toothack; he carries it excellently. 

_Fra_. Aske me no torturing questions; I desire, Madam, a little conference with you. Ile thanke the rest if they withdraw: oh!

[_Cou_. [278]] Letts leave him. 

_Un_. Wee'le to my chamber, captaine. 

_Cap_. You have a mind to examine the business privatly?

_Do_. No, good Captaine, you may be present. 

_Cou_. Come, _Thomas_, thou shat be witnes, too. 

 [_Ext. All but Sir Francis and Lady_. 

_La_. They are gone; they feigne most artificially, Let me embrace you. 

_Fra_. Oh, take heed. 

_La_. What's the matter?

_Fra_. Tis no dissembling, --Madam; I have hadA fall indeed, a dreadfull fall; I feele it. I thinke my horse saw the Divell in some hedge:Ere I had rid three furlongs, gave a start, Pitcht me of ons back like a barr and brokeA flint with my shoulder, I thinke, which strooke fire too;There was something like it in my eyes, Ime punish'd. 

_La_. But is this serious? are you hurt indeed?

_Fra_. Hurt? I ha broke my shoulder feelingly, And I am of opinion when I doeEnjoy you, Madam, I shall breake my neck;That will be next. Ile take this for a warningAnd will leave of in tyme. 

_La_. This makes me tremble. 

_Fra_. I will be honest now; and so forgive me. Not the Surgeon come yet?

_La_. Heaven hath cur'd us both. 

_Fra_. I am not cured yet. Oh for the bone setter!If ere I counterfeit agen. 

_La_. There is a blessing falne upon my blood. Your only charme had power to make my thoughtsWicked, and your conversion disinchants me;May both our lives be such as heaven may notGrieve to have shew'd this bounty. 

 _Enter Courtwell_. 

_Cou_. Sir _Richard_, Madam. 

_La_. You may enter now, sir. 

 _Enter the rest and Sir Richard_. 

_Ri_. I do not like this stratageme; Sir _Francis_Must not heere practise his Court tricks; I wo'not _Enter Surgeon_. Trust my wives surgerie. Hee's come. --How ist, Noble Sir _Francis_? Best withdraw; ile seeHim drest my selfe. [_They lead out Sir Francis_. 

 _Enter Underwit, Dorothy, Captaine, Thomas_. 

_Un_. Madam and gentlemen, Mistris _Dorothy_ wo'not acknowledge she isa knight's daughter; she sweares she knows no _Littleland_. 

_Do_. Till it appeare to whom this gemme was meant, Deare Madame, be you treasurer. I confesseI have wealth enough in such a noble husband. 

_La_. It shall belong to thee; be honest, _Dorothy_, And use him well. 

_Do_. With my best study, Madam. 

_La_. Where is the footman you talke of?

_Tho_. He pretended Letters to carry two mile of to a kinsman of hisMasters, and returne presently. He dranke three or fower beere glassesof sack, and he ran away so lightlie. 

_Do_. His reward shall overtake him. 

_Un_. Will you have her? she will doe you service, Captaine, in a _LowCountry_[279] Leaguer. Or thou, _Thomas_? ile give thee a Coppiehold. 

_Tho_. You have one life to come in that lease, yet I thank you: I amfree, and that's inheritance; for ought I know she may serve us both. 

_La_. Come you may perswade her to looke high and take it upon her foryour credit. The gullery is yet within these walles; let your shame goeno farther. The wench may prove right, she may. 

 _Enter Sir Richard_. 

_La_. What news from Sir _Francis_?

_Ri_. Wife, I hardly aske thee forgivenes; I had jealous thoughts, butall's right agen. 

_La_. I will deserve your confidence. 

_Ri_. No great danger, his blade bone dislocated; the man has puteverything in his right place. 

_Un_. Dee heare, Sir _Richard_? wee are married. 

_Ri_. Tis well done, send you joy; tis to my mind. 

_Un_. Come hither, _Dorothy_. 

_Cap_. But where's Mr. _Engine_?

_Ri_. He rid before. 

_Cap_. If the rascall have any wit left he will ride quite away withhimselfe; tis his best course to fly oversea. 

_Tho_. If he were sure to flie, he were sure to escape. 

_Cap_. At the worst, drowning is a most [sic] honourable death thenhanging. 

_Do_. My mother died, I have it by tradition, As soone as I was borne; my father (butNo knight) is now i'th _Indies_, a poore Merchant, That broke for 20, 000 pounds. 

_Ri_. The shipps may come home. Hee!

_Do_. You were best use me well, now we are married. I will be sworne you forc'd me to the ChurchAnd thrice compeld me there to say _I Dorothy_. The Parsons oath and mine, for ought I know, May make it halfe a rape. 

_Ri_. There is no remedy;We can prove no conspiracie. And, becauseI have been gulld my selfe, gett her with child, --My Doe is barren, --at birth of her first babyIle give her a hundred peeces. 

_Un_. That's somewhat yet, when charge comes on. Thy hand! a wife can bebut a wife: it shall cost me 500 pounds but ile make thee a Ladie inearnest. 

 _Enter Sir Francis and Surgeon_. 

_Ri_. How ist, Sir _Francis_?

_Fra_. My Surgeon sayes no danger; when you please, I may venture, Sir, to _London_. 

_Ri_. No hast now. 

_Cou_. Not to-night, Sir; wee must have revells and you salute my Bride. 

_Un_. And mine. 

_Tho_. A knights Daughter and heire. 

_Fra_. May all joy thrive upon your Loves. --Then you are cosend of your Mistres, Mounseir?

_Do_. But your nephew knowes I have met with my match. Some bodie hasbeen put to the sword. 

_Ri_. Come, we loose tyme. 

_Fra_. Preserve your marriage faith: a full increaseOf what you wish confirme your happinesse. 

 [_Exeunt_. 

FINIS. 

APPENDIX I. 

The folio volume numbered Eg. MS. 1, 994 contains 349 leaves. It waspurchased by the British Museum, for the very modest sum of thirty-threepounds, at the sale of Lord Charlemont's library on August 6, 1865. Mr. Warner (of the Manuscript Department of the British Museum), to whom thepublic are indebted for an excellent catalogue of the DulwichCollection, thinks that the volume originally belonged to DulwichCollege. Towards the end of the XVIIth century Cartwright, the actor, bequeathed to the College a number of MS. Plays, which the Collegeauthorities in the middle of the last century exchanged (horrendumdictu!) for tomes of controversial divinity. Of all the plays left bythe actor only one[280]--and that imperfect--remains. The late LordCharlemont was a friend of Malone, and it is well known that Malone hadmany of the Dulwich documents in his possession for years. Mr. Warner'stheory is that Malone lent the volume to Lord Charlemont, and that itwas never returned. The objection that naturally suggests itself is, "How came so acute a scholar as Malone to fail to draw attention to aCollection of such considerable interest?" And I confess that I am notable to offer any satisfactory answer. 

The volume contains in all fifteen plays, written in various hands. Onepiece has the author's initials attached, but the others have neithername nor initials. 

First in order, leaves 1-29, stands Fletcher's _Elder Brother_. I havecompared the MS. With Dyce's text, and find the variations to be few andunimportant. In III. 3 Dyce follows the old copies in reading:--

 What a noise is in this house! my head is broken Within a parenthesis: in every corner, As if the earth were shaken with some strange colic, There are stirs and motions. 

As the words "within a parenthesis" were found in all the old copiesDyce did not feel justified in rejecting them, although he had only themost grotesque meaning to assign to them. Theobald rightly saw that"within a parenthesis" was a marginal note, mistaken for a part of thetext when the book was sent to press. The MS. Gives--

 Sweet heart, What noyse is in this house? my head is broken In every corner, as the earth were shaken With some strange Collick: there are stirs and motions: What planet rules this house? Whos there?

In III. 5 the MS. Supports Mason's correction "Their blue veins _and_blush disclose, " where Dyce followed the old reading "_in_ blush. "--Atthe end of the play, after the Epilogue, are written the three followingEpigrams:--

 A freemans life is like a pilgrimage: What's his life then that lives in mariage? Tis _Sisyphus_ his toyle that with a stone Doth doe what surely for ease must be done. His labours journey's endles; 'tis no riddle, Since he's but halfe on's way that stands inth' middle. 

 _Ad Janum_. 

 Take comfort, _Janus_; never feare thy head Which to the quick belongs, not to the dead. Thy wife did lye with one; thou, being dead drunke, Then art no Cuckold though she bee a Punke. 

 Tis not the state nor soveraintie of _Jove_ Could draw thy pure affections from my love: Nor is there any _Venus_ in the skyes Could from thy lookes withdraw my greedy eyes. 

Leaves 30-51 are taken up with _Dick of Devonshire_. Then follows anunnamed play (leaves 52-73), written in a villainous hand. If I succeedin transcribing this play I shall print it in the third volume, for itseems to be an unpublished play of Heywood's. The next piece, entitled_Calisto_ (leaves 74-95), which is written in the same hand, consists ofscenes from Heywood's _Golden Age_ and _Silver Age_. There are manyvariations from the printed copies, showing that the most active of theold playwrights found time to revise his works. Here is a song that wasomitted in the printed copy. Its proper place in Pearson's _Reprint_ ofHeywood is vol. Iii. P. 67:--

 Whether they be awake or sleepe, With what greate Care ought Virgins keepe, With what art and indevor, The Jewell which they ought to pryse Above the ritchest marchandise, -- And once lost lost for ever!

 Virginity is a rare gem, Rated above a diadem, And was despised never: 'Tis that at which the most men ayme And being gott they count their game And once lost lost for ever. 

Of the charming song "Haile beauteous _Dian_, Queene of Shades" the MS. Gives a far inferior version:--

 Thou _Trivia_, dost alone excell, In heaven when thou dost please to dwell Cald _Cynthia, Proserpine_ in Hell: But when thou theair art fyred And takest thy bugle and thy bowe, To chase on Earth the hart or doe, Thee for _Diana_ all men knowe, Who art mongst us admired: _Pan_ and _Pomona_ boath rejoyce, So swaynes and nimphes with pipe and voyce. 

 Off all chast vestalls thou art queene Which are, which heretofore have been; The fawnes and satyres cladd in greene On earth wayte to attend thee; And when that thou on huntinge goest, In which thou art delighted moest, They off their active swiftnes boast, For which we all comend thee. _Pan_ and _Pomona_ boath rejoyce, So swaynes and nimphes with pipe and voyce. 

We come now to a chronicle play (leaves 97-118), _Edmond Ironside: TheEnglish King_. This piece had a second title--_A trew Chronicle Historycalled War hath made all friends_. It must be confessed that this oldplay is a tedious business, sadly wanting in life and movement. Thefollowing extract will give a taste of the author's quality:--

 _Enter Canutus, Edricus with other Lords and souldiers_. 

 _Canutus_. A plague upon you all for arrant cowards! Looke how a dunghill cocke not rightly bred Doth come into the pitt with greater grace, Brislinge his feathers, settinge upp his plumes, Clappinge his winges and crowinge lowder out Then doth a cocke of game that meanes to fight; Yett after, when he feeles the spurres to pricke, Crakes like a Craven and bewrayes himself: Even soe my bigbond _Daines_, adrest to fight As though they meant to scale the Cope of heaven, (And like the Giants graple with the gods) At first encounter rush uppon theire foes But straight retire: retire? nay, run awaye As men distraught with lightninge from above Or dastards feared with a sodaine fraye. 

 _Edricus_. Renowned Soveraigne, doe not fret your self. Fortune in turninge will exalt your state And change the Countenaunce of her cloudy browe, Now you must hope for better still and better And _Edmond_ must expect still worse and worse, A lowringe morning proves a fayer daye, Fortunes ilfavord frowne shewes shee will smile On you and frowne on _Ironside_. 

 _Canutus_. What telst thou mee of fortune and her frownes, Of her sower visage and her rowling stone? Thy tongue rowles headlong into flattery. Now by theis heavens above our wretched heades Ye are but cowards every one of you! _Edmond_ is blest: oh, had I but his men, I would not doute to conquer all the world In shorter time the [then] _Alexander_ did. But all my _Daines_ are Braggadochios And I accurst to bee the generall Of such a stocke of fearefull runawaies. 

 _South_. Remember you have lost Ten Thousand men, All _English_ borne except a Thousand _Daines_. Your pensive lookes will kill them that survive If thus to Choller you give libertie. 

 _Canutus_. It weare no matter if they all weare slaine, Then they should neaver runne awaye againe. 

 _Uska_. My noble lord, our Cuntrymen are safe: In all their broyles _English_ gainst _English_ fight; The _Daines_ or none or very few are slaine. 

 _Canutus_. It was a signe yee fledd and did not fight. [_turns towards Uskatant_. Ist not a dishonour unto you To see a foraingne nation fight for mee Whenas my homebred Cuntrymen doe runne, Leaving theire king amongest his enimies?

 _Edricus_. Give not such scoope to humerous discontent, Wee all are partners of your privat greefes. Kinges are the heads, and yf the head but ache The little finger is distempered. Wee greeve to se you greeved, which hurteth us And yet availes not to asswage your greefe. You are the Sunne, my lo:, wee Marigolds; Whenas you shine wee spred our selves abroad And take our glory from your influence; And when you hide your face or darken yt With th'least incounter of a clowdy looke, Wee close our eies as partners of your woes, Droopinge our heades as grasse downe waid with due. Then cheere ye upp, my lord, and cheere upp us, For now our valours are extinguished And all our force lyes drownd in brinish teares, As Jewells in the bottome of the sea. --I doe beseech your grace to heare mee speake. [_Edricus talks to him_. 

The next piece (leaves 119-135), which is without a title, is founded onthe Charlemagne romances. My friend, Mr. S. L. Lee, editor of _Huon ofBordeaux_, in answer to my inquiries writes as follows: "Almost all thecharacters in this play are the traditional heroes of the FrenchCharlemagne romances, and stand in the same relation to one another asin the _Lyf of Charles the Grete_ and the _Four Sons of Aymon_, both ofwhich were first printed by Caxton, and secured through later editions awide popularity in England during the XVIth century. I believe, however, that the story of the magic ring is drawn from another source. It isunknown to the Charlemagne romances of France and England, but itappears in several German legends of the Emperor, and is said to bestill a living tradition at Aix-la-Chapelle, where the episode isusually localised (cf. Gaston, Paris, _Histoire Poétique deCharlemagne_, p. 383). Petrarch has given a succinct account of it in aletter written from Cologne, in which he states that he learnt it fromthe priests of the city, and it is through his narrative that the legendappears to have reached England. John Skelton in his poem 'Why come yenot to court?' quotes the story, and refers to the Italian poet as hisauthority (cf. Dyce's Skelton, II. 48 and 364, where the letter isprinted at length). Southey has also made the tradition the subject of aballad entitled _King Charlemain_ to which he has prefixed a Frenchtranslation of the passage of Petrarch. In 1589 George Peele in a_Farewell_ addressed to Morris and Drake on setting out with the Englishforces for Spain tells them to

 Bid theatres and proud tragedians, Bid Mahomet, Scipio, & mighty Tamburlaine, King _Charlemagne_, Tom Stukeley and the rest Adieu. 

Dyce, in a note on this passage (Dyce's Peele, II. 88) writes: 'No dramacalled _Charlemagne_ has come down to us, nor am I acquainted with anyold play in which that monarch figures. ' But we know from Henslowe'sdiary that in at least two plays that were dramatised from Charlemagneromances the Emperor must have taken a part. " Mr. Lee concludes his mostinteresting note by suggesting that the present play may be the one towhich Peele alludes; but he will at once perceive from my extracts thatthe date 1589 is much too early. Here is a passage that might have beenwritten by Cyril Tourneur:--

 [_Ganelon_ stabs _Richard_, his dearest friend, suspecting him of treachery. ]

 _Rich_. O you've slayne me! tell me, cruell sir, Why you have doone thys, that myne innocent soule May teache repentance to you-- _dies_. 

 _Gan_. Speake it out, -- What, not a worde? dumbe with a littill blowe? You are growne statlye, are you? tys even so: You have the trycke of mightie men in courte To speake at leasure and pretend imployment. Well, take your tyme; tys not materyall Whether you speake the resydue behynde Now or at doomes day. If thy common sence Be not yet parted from thee, understand I doe not misse thee dyinge because once I loved thee dearlye; and collect by that There is no Devyll in me nor in hell That could have flesht me to this violent deathe Hadst thou beene false to all the world but me. 

The concentrated bitterness of those lines is surpassed by nothing inthe _Revenger's Tragedy_. Indeed, I am inclined to believe that thewhole play, which is very unskilfully constructed, is by Tourneur, orperhaps by the author[281] of the _Second Maiden's Tragedy_. All thefigures are shrouded in a blank starless gloom; to read the play is towatch the riot of devils. Here is an extract from the scene where_Orlando_, returning from the wars, hears that _Charlemagne_, his uncle, has married _Ganelon's_ niece, and that his own hopes of succession havebeen ruined by the birth of a son:--

 _Orl[ando. ]_ I am the verye foote-ball of the starres, Th'anottomye of fortune whom she dyssects With all the poysons & sharpe corrosyves Stylld in the lymbecke of damde pollycie. My starres, my starres! O that my breath could plucke theym from theire spheares So with theire ruyns to conclude my feares. 

 _Enter La Buffe_. 

 _Rei[naldo. ]_ Smoother your passions, Sir: here comes his sonne-- A propertie oth court, that least his owne Ill manners should be noted thyeks it fytt In pollycie to scoffe at other mens. He will taxe all degrees & thynke that that Keepes hym secure from all taxation. 

 _Orl_. Y'are deceyvd; it is a noble gentyllman And hated of hys father for hys vertues. 

 _Buf_. Healthe and all blessinge wherewith heauen and earthe May comforte man, wayte on your excellence!

 _Orl_. Although I know no mans good wyshe or prayrs Can ere be heard to my desyred good, I am not so voyde of humanytie But I will thancke your loue. 

 _Rei_. Pray, Sir, what newse Hath the courte latterly beene deliverd of?

 _Buf_. Such as the gallymaufry that is fownd In her large wombe may promise: he that has The fayrest vertues weares the foulest shyrte And knowes no shyfte for't: none but journeymen preists Invay agaynst plurallytie of liueinge And they grow hoarse ithe cause, yet are without The remedye of sugar candye for't. Offices are like huntinge breakfasts gott Hurlye burlye, snatcht with like greedynes, I & allmost disjested too assoone. 

 _Oli[ver]_. I, but in sober sadnes whatts doone there?

 _Buf_. Faythe, very littill, Sir, in sober sadnes, For there disorder hurryes perfect thyngs To mere confussyon; nothing there hath forme But that which spoyles all forme, & to be shorte Vice only thrives & merrytt starves in courte. 

 _Rei_. What of the maryadge of your noble aunte Oure fayre eied royall empresse?

 _Buf_. Trothe I wonderd, Sir, You spooke of that no sooner, yet I hope None here are jealyous that I brought one sparke To kyndell that ill flame. 

 _Orl_. No, of my trothe, I knowe thee much too honest; but how fares The Empresse now, my dear exequetresse?

 _Buf_. Sir, as a woman in her casse may doe; Shee's broughte [to] bedd. 

 _Rei_. What, has she a chylde then?

 _Buf_. I, my Lord. 

 _Orl_. A Sonne?

 _Buf_. Mys-fortune hathe inspyrd you, Sir; tys true. 

 _Orl_. Nay when my fortune faylls me at a pynche I will thynke blasphemy a deede of merrytt. --O harte, will nothing breake the?

 _Rei_. Tis most straunge. 

 _Orl_. Straunge? not a whytt. Why, if she had beene spayd And all mankynd made Euenucks, yet in spyght My ill fate would have gotten her with chylde-- Of a son too. Hencefourthe let no man That hathe a projecte he dothe wishe to thryve Ere let me knowe it. My mere knowledge in't Would tourne the hope't successe to an event That would fryghte nature, & make patyence braule With the most pleasinge obiecte. 

 _Buf_. Sir, be at peace; Much may be found by observatyon. 

 _Orl_. Th'arte bothe unfriendlie & uncharytable. Thys observation thou advysest to Would ryvett so my thoughts uppon my fate That I should be distrackt. I can observe Naughte but varyetye of mysseries Crossynge my byrthe, my blood and best endevours. I neare did good for any but great _Charles_, And the meare doing that hath still brought fourth To me some plague too heavye to be borne, But that I am reserud onlye to teach The studyed envye of mallignant starrs. If fortune be blynde, as the poetts houlde, It is with studyinge myne afflictions: But, for her standing on a roullinge stone, Theare learninge faylls theym, for she fixed stands And onlye against me. 

I may perhaps be tempted to print this play in full. The MS. Hassuffered somewhat, many lines having been cut away at the foot of someof the pages. Although the first scene is marked _Act 2, Scene 2_, [282]the play seemed to me to be complete. On the last leaf is written "Nella[Greek: phdphnr] la B. " Some name is possibly concealed under theseenigmatic letters; but the riddle would defy an Oedipus. 

The next play (leaves 136-160) is entitled _The fatal Maryage, or asecond Lucreatya_. _Galeas_, on returning from the wars, crowned withpraises, is requested by his widowed mother to make a journey into theprovince of _Parma_ to receive moneys owed by Signor _Jouanny_. On hisarrival he falls in love with _Jouanny's_ daughter, _Lucretia_, runsaway with her, and secretly marries her. _Galeas'_ mother, angered atthe match, practises to convey _Lucretia_ to a nunnery and get her sonmarried to an earl's daughter; but _Galeas_ defeats his mother'smachinations by killing himself and _Lucretia_. There is a second plotto this odd play, but enough has been said. The meeting between _Galeas_and _Jouanny_ is the best thing in the play:--

 _Enter Galeas & Jacomo_. 

 _Ga_. You spake with him as I comanded you?

 _Jac_. And had his promise to meet you presently. 

 _Ga_. I have heard much fame of him since my arrive, His generall nature, hospitable love; His [He's?] good to all men, enemy to none. Indeed he has that perfect character Before I see him I'm in love with him. 

 _Jac_. Hee has the fame few Cittizens deserve. 

 _Ga_. Why, sir, few Cittizens?

 _Jac_. His words his bond, and does not break that bond To bankrupt others; he makes you not a library Of large monopolie to cosen all men: _Subintelligitur_, he hates to deale With such portentious othes as furr his mouth In the deliverance. 

 _Enter Jouanny_. 

 _Ga_. Hee comes himselfe. 

 _Jou_. Sir _Galeas_, if I mistake not?

 _Ga_. I weare my fathers name, sir. 

 _Jou_. And tis a dignity to weare that name. Whatts your affairs in _Parma_?

 _Ga_. To visit you, sir. 

 _Jou_. Gladness nor sorrow never paid mans debts. --Your pleasure, sir?

 _Ga_. The livery of my griefe: my fathers dead And mee hath made his poore executor. 

 _Jou_. What? ought hee ten thousand duckets? Thy fathers face fixt in thy front Should be the paymaster tho from my hand. 

 _Ga_. I doe not come to borrow: please yee read. 

 _Jou_. Read? and with good regard, for sorrow paies noe debts. 

 _Ga_. The summes soe great I feare, once read by him, My seeming frend will prove my enemy. 

 _Jac_. Faith, if he doe, hee proves like your French galloshes that promise faire to the feet, yet twice a day leave a man in the durt. 

 _Jou_. Was this your fathers pleasure?

 _Ga_. It was his hand. 

 _Jou_. It was his writing, I know it as my owne, Wherein hee has wronged mee beyond measure?

 _Ga_. How? my father wrongd yee? I'm his sonn. 

 _Jou_. Wert thou his father I'm wrongd, -- Iniurd, calumniated, baffled to my teeth; And were it not that these gray haires of mine Were priviledgd ane enemy to vallour, I have a heart could see your fathers wrong--

 _Ga_. What? raile you, sir?

 _Jac_. Challenge a half pint pot. 

 _Jou_. There in a sawpitt, knave, to quitt my self Of such an inury. --Hee writes mee here That I should pay to you tenn thousand crownes. 

 _Ga_. As being due to him. 

 _Jou_. But thatts not my quarrell, sir; for I did owe to him Millions of Crownes, millions of my love;-- And but to send a note here for his owne! Ist not a quarrell for an honest man?

 _Jac_. With very few, I thinke. 

 _Jou_. Why, looke yee, sir: When after many a storme and dreadfull blow Strooke from fire-belching clouds, bankrupt of life I have home return'd; when all my frends denide Their thresholds to mee, and my creditors Desir'd to sinke mee in a prisoners grave, Hee gave mee dying life, his helpefull hand Sent mee to sea and kept mee safe on land. Ist not a quarrell then to seeke butts owne?

 _Ga_. Oh, pray, sir--

 _Jou_. When all the talents of oppression Of usurers, lawyers and my creditors Had fangd upon my wife and family, Hee gave mee dying life, his helpfull hand Sent mee to sea and kept mee safe on land. Ist not a quarrell then to seeke but's owne?

 _Ga_. Good sir--

 _Jou_. Come in, sir, where I will pay all that you can demand: Noe other quarrell, sir, shall passe your hand. 

 _Ga_. If every [one] should pay as well as you The world were good, wee should have bankrupts few. 

 _Jac_. I'm of your mind for that. [_Exeunt_. 

We now come to a play (leaves 161-185), without title, and wanting someleaves at the end, on the subject of Richard the Second. I think withMr. Halliwell-Phillipps, who printed eleven copies of this piece, thatit is anterior to Shakespeare's play. There is less extravagance oflanguage than in most of the plays belonging to that early date (circ. 1593?); and the blank verse, though it is monotonous enough, has perhapsrather more variety than we should expect to find. Much of the play istaken up with _Greene_ and _Baggott_; but the playwright has chieflyexerted himself in representing the murder of _Woodstock_ at Calais. Before the murder, _Woodstock_ falls asleep, and there appears to himthe ghost of the _Black Prince_:

 ... Oh I am nought but ayre: Had I the vigour of my former strength When thou beheldst me fight at _Cressy_ feild, Wher hand to hand I tooke King _John_ of _France_ And his bould sonns my captive prisoners, Ide shake these stiff supporters of thy bed And dragg thee from this dull securyty. Oh yett for pittye wake; prevent thy doome; Thy blood upon my sonne will surely come: For which, deere brother _Woodstocke_, haste and fly, Prevent his ruein and thy tragedy. [_Exit Ghoste_. 

Undisturbed by this appeal, _Woodstock_ slumbers on. Then enters theghost of _Edward the Third_. His speech is worthy of Robert Greene:--

 Sleepst thou so soundly and pale death so nye? _Thomas_ of _Woodstocke_, wake my sone and fly. Thy wrongs have roused thy royall fathers ghost, And from his quiat grave king _Edwards_ come To guard thy innocent life, my princely sonne. Behould me heere, sometymes faire _Englands_ lord: (7) warlicke sonnes I left, yett being gone No one succeeded in my kingly throne, &c. 

I will not inflict more of this stuff on the reader. Suffice it to saythat _Woodstock_ wakes in terror and calls aloud. _Lapoole_, thegovernor of the city, who is close at hand with two murderers, entersand comforts him. Here the playwright shows a touch of pathos:--

 Good nyght, _Lapoole_, and pardon me, I prethee, That my sadd feare made question of thy faith. My state is fearefull and my mynd was troubled Even at thy entrance with most fearefull vissions Which made my passiones more extreame and hastye. Out of my better judgment I repent itt And will reward thy love: once more, good nyght. 

Now follows the _Lady Mother_ (leaves 186-211), which I have proved tobe a play of Glapthorne's. No doubt it is the same piece as the _NobleTrial_, entered on the Stationers' Registers, June 29, 1660, but notprinted. 

Then we have a masque (leaves 212-223). On the first page are given the_nomina actorum_, and underneath is written "August 5th, 1643. " I wassurprised to find in this masque a long passage that occurs also inChapman's _Byron's Tragedie_ (ed. Pearson, ii. 262). Ben Jonson said (toDrummond of Hawthornden) that only he and Chapman knew how to write amasque. The remark has always puzzled me, and certainly I should neverhave thought of Chapman's name in connexion with this masque. Here is anextract, containing the passage from _Byron's Tragedie_:--

 _Love_. For thy sake, Will, I feathered all my thoughts And in a bird's shape flew in to her bosome, The bosome of _Desert_, thy beautious Mistris, As if I had been driven by the hauke In that sweet sanctuary to save my liffe. She smild on me, cald me her prety bird, And for her sport she tyed my little legs In her faire haire. Proud of my golden fetters I chirped for Joy; she confident of my lameness, Soon disintangled me & then she percht me Upon her naked breast. There being ravishd I sung with all my cheere and best of skill. She answered note for note, relish for relish, And ran division with such art and ease That she exceeded me. 

 _Judgment_. There was rare musicke. 

 _Love_. In this swete strife, forgetting where I stood. I trod so hard in straining of my voice That with my claw I rent her tender skin; Which as she felt and saw vermillion follow Stayning the cullor of _Adonis_ bleeding In _Venus_ lap, with indignation She cast me from her. 

 _Will_. That fortune be to all that injure her. 

 _Love_. Then I put on this shepheards shape you see; I tooke my bow and quiver as in revenge Against the birds, shooting and following them From tre to tre. She passing by beheld And liked the sport. I offerrd her my prey, Which she receved and asked to feele my bowe; Which when she handled and beheld the beauty Of my bright arrowes, she began to beg em. I answered they were all my riches, yet I was content to hazard all and stake em Downe to a kiss at a game at chess with her. "Wanton, " quoth she, being privy to her skill, "A match!" Then she with that dexterrytey Answered my challenge that I lost my weapons: Now _Cupides_ shaffts are headed with her lookes. My mother soone perceiving my disgrace, My Arms beinge lost and gon which made me a terror To all the world, she tooke away my wings, Renouncd me for her child and cast me from her; And more, to be revengd upon _Desert_, Comanded _Danger_ to be her strong keeper, That should she empt my quiver at the hearts Of men they might not dare to court her, fearing That horrid mischiefe that attends [on] her. On this I threw me headlong on the sea To sleepe my tyme out in the bottome off it; Whence you have puld me up to be a scorne To all the World. 

 _Will_. Not so, my prety boy, Ill arme the againe; My breast shall be thy quiver, my sighes thy shaffts: And heres an opportunytey to be wingd againe; Se here the wings of _Fortune_. 

 _Love_. _Fortunes_ wings Are full of giddy feathers to unsure For me to fly with all, but I will stay with you, I like so well this aire; onely you must Provide to keepe me from the hands of _Danger_ That wayts upon _Dessert_. 

 _Will_. Our selfes and all _Arcadia_ shall be your guard and wher _Love_ passes and recides he shall be allwayes Armd and attended by a band of lovers, Such faithfull ones as if that ugly _Danger_ Were _Lucifer_ himselfe, they should defend you. 

Next on our List (leaves 224-244) is the _Two Noble Ladyes, or theConverted Conjurer_. This "Tragicomicall Historie often tymes acted withapprobation at the _Red Bull_ in St. _John's_ Streete by the company ofthe Revells, " is a coarse noisy play. The comic part consists of themost absurd buffoonery, and the rest is very stilted. But there is onescene--and one only--which shows genuine poetic power. It is where_Cyprian_, the sorcerer, having by his magical arts saved _Justina_, aChristian maiden, tries to gain her love:--

 _Enter Cyprian and Justina_. 

 _Cyprian_. Doe not disdayne, faire peece of Natures pride, To heare him plead for love that sav'd thy life. It was my pow'rfull arte produc'd those monsters To drowne those monstrous executioners That should have wrought your wracke. 

 _Justina_. Sir, I am sorry Hell had a hand in my delivery: That action cannot merrit my affection. 

 _Cyprian_. I not alleadge it for desert of grace But argument of mercie: pitty him That in distresse so lately pitty'd you. 

 _Justina_. I am the troth-plight wife of _Clitophon_, The Prince of _Babylon_; hee has my hart, And theres no share for others. 

 _Cyprian_. That high state Is now at a low ebbe: destruction Hangs like a threatning Commet ore the walls Of _Babilon_. Then fix thy love on him That can more then the greatest prince on earth. Love mee, and princes shall thy pages bee; Monarchs shall lay their crownes and royalties As presents at thy feet; the _Indian_ mynes Shall be thy ioyntures; all the worldes rich marchants Shall bring their pearles and pretious stones to thee, Sweet gums and spices of _Arabia_, Fine _Median_ linnen and Barbarian silkes; The earth shall beare no fruit of raritie But thou shalt taste it. Weele transforme ourselves In quaintest shapes to vary our delights. And in a chariot wrought out of a cloud, Studded with starres, drawne through the subtle aire By birds of paradise, wee'll ride together To fruitfull _Thessalie_, where in fair _Tempe_ (The only pleasant place of all the earth) Wee'll sport us under a pavilion Of _Tyrian_ scarlet. 

 _Justina_. Should these rarities (Faithlesse as are your wondrous promises) Lead me into the hazard of my soule And losse of such ay-lasting happinesse As all earths glories are but shaddows to?

 _Cyprian_. Thincke you this rare pile of perfection. Wherein Love reads a lecture of delight, Ows not it's use to Nature? There is love In every thing that lives: the very sunne Does burne in love while we partake his heate; The clyming ivy with her loving twines Clips the strong oake. No skill of surgerie Can heale the wounds, nor oceans quench the flames Made by all pow'rfull love. Witnesse myselfe: Since first the booke of your perfections Was brought so neare than I might read it ore, I have read in it charmes to countermand All my enchantments and enforce mee stoop To begge your love. 

 _Justina_. How ere you please to style A lustfull appetite, it takes not mee. Heav'n has my bow my life shall never bee Elder then my unstain'd virginitie. 

 _Cyprian_. Virginitie! prize you so dearely that Which common things cast of? Marke but the flow'rs That now as morning fresh, fragrant and faire, Lay ope their beautys to the courting sunne, And amongst all the modest mayden rose: These wanton with the aire until unleavd They die and so loose their virginitie. 

 _Justina_. In _India_ there is a flow'r (they say) Which, if a man come neare it, turnes away: By that I learne this lesson, to descrie Corrupt temptations and the tempter flie. 

Leaves 245-267 are taken up with the _Tragedy of Nero_, which wasprinted in 1624. Then comes [Daborne's] _Poore Man's Comfort_(268-292), an inferior play printed in 1655. Afterwards follows a dullplay (leaves 293-316), _Loves Changlelings Changed_, founded on Sidney's_Arcadia_. The last piece in the book (leaves 317-349) is _Thelancheinge of the May_, Written by W. M. Gent in his return from _EastIndia_, A. D. 1632. There is a second title, _The Seamans honest wife_, to this extraordinary piece. On the last leaf is a note by Sir HenryHerbert:--"This Play called ye _Seamans honest wife_, all ye Oathsleft out in ye action as they are crost in ye booke & all otherReformations strictly observed, may bee acted, not otherwise. This 27thJune, 1633. HENRY HERBERT. 

"I command your Bookeeper to present mee with a faire Copy hereaft[er]and to leave out all oathes, prophaness & publick Ribaldry as he willanswer it at his perill. H. HERBERT. "

It is plain therefore that the piece was intended for presentation onthe stage; but it must have been a strange audience that could havelistened to it. Dramatic interest there is none whatever. The piece isnothing more, than a laudation of the East India Company. In tables ofstatistics we have set before us the amount of merchandise brought fromthe East; and the writer dwells with enthusiasm on the liberality of theCompany, and shows how new channels have been opened for industry. Oneextract will be enough:--

 Nor doe our marchants tradinge into Spayne, The _Streights_, to _Venice_, _Lisbon_ or the like, Give entertaynment unto novices Which have not some experience of the sea. But when all doors of Charitie are shutt The _East India_ gates stand open, open wide, To entertayne the needie & the poore With good accomodation. Two monthes paye They have before hand for to make provision, Needfull provision for so longe a voyage, And two monthes paye theyr wives are yearely payd The better to mayntayne theyr poore estate Duringe the discontinuance of theyr husbands. Yf in the voyage he doe chance to [MS. Doe] dye The widowe doth receave whatere's found due, Yf not by will disposed otherwise; Which often happeneth to be such a sume As they togeather never sawe the like. And when did any of these widowes begge For mayntenaunce in Churches as some doe? _Blackwall_ proclaymes theyr bountie; _Lymehouse_ speakes (Yf not ingrate) their liberalitie; _Ratcliffe_ cannot complayne nor _Wapping_ weepe, Nor _Shadwell_ crye agaynst theyr niggardnes. No, they doe rather speake the contrary With acclamations to the highest heavens. 

APPENDIX II. 

The following note is by Mr. Robert Boyle, of St. Petersburg, aShakespearian scholar, whose name is well known to readers of the_Anglia_ and the _New Shakspere Society's Transactions_. Mr. Boyle, whohas a close acquaintance with Massinger, on seeing the proof-sheets of_Sir John Van Olden Barnavelt_, pointed out several repetitions ofexpressions used in other plays of Massinger. It will be understood thatI do not adopt Mr. Boyle's conclusions unreservedly. Possibly in anAppendix to Vol. IV. I may return to a consideration of _Barnavelt_, butthe present volume has already swollen beyond its limits. 

_Sir John Van Olden Barnavelt_. 

This play, the most valuable Christmas present English scholars have forhalf a century received, appears indubitably to belong to the Massingerand Fletcher series. Even a cursory glance will convince the reader thatit is one of the greatest treasures of our dramatic literature. Thatsuch a gem should lie in manuscript for over 200 years, should becatalogued in our first library, should be accessible to the eye of theprying scholar, and yet never even be noticed till now, affords adisagreeable but convincing proof of the want of interest in our earlyliterature displayed even by those whose studies in this field wouldseem to point them out for the work of rescuing these literary treasuresfrom a fate as bad as that which befell those plays which perished atthe hands of Warburton's "accursed menial. " The present play has someremarkable features in it. It is taken from contemporary history (theonly one as far as we know of that class in which Massinger wasengaged). It was written almost immediately after the events itdescribes. These events took place in the country in which Englishmenthen took more interest than in any other country in Europe. There is atone of political passion in the play which, particularly in one place, breaks out in an expression which the hearers must have applied to theirown country. There is no doubt that the audience wandered away in theirthoughts from Sir John Van Olden Barnavelt, the saviour of his countryfrom the Spanish yoke, as he professed himself in his defence on histrial, and Spain's determined enemy, to Sir Walter Raleigh, whose headhad just fallen on the block, the victim of a perfidious foe and of amean, shuffling king. The following is the passage:--

 Octavius, when he did affect the Empire, And strove to tread upon the neck of Rome And all her ancient freedoms, took that course That now is practised on you; for the Catos, And all free spirits slain or else proscribed, That durst have stirred against him, he then seized The Absolute rule of all. _You can apply this_. P. 292. 

In a note Mr. Bullen informs us, that "You can apply this" is crossedthrough. He does not state whether there is anything to show that thiswas done by Sir George Buck, Master of the Revels, and consequentlyCensor for the Stage. But this would appear to be the case, the more soas the present play seems to have raised scruples in many places in themind of the dramatic Cerberus. It is hardly possible to imagine that thespectators did not apply the "free spirits" to Raleigh, and the "Catos"to those members who were shortly after to be imprisoned on account of amemorable protest entered in the journals of the House, which Octavius, who was trying to seize the absolute rule of all, tore out with his ownroyal hands. There is a peculiar fitness in this hit at James asOctavius which probably did not escape the audience. There is anotherpassage, on p. 253, which, singular to say, seems to have escaped thenotice of the Censor:--

 Such mild proceedings in a Government New settled, whose main power had its dependence Upon the power of some particular men, Might be given way to, but in ours it were Unsafe and scandalous. 

Vandort, the speaker here, is opposing the idea of mercy to Barnavelt. The language is very mild, but receives a peculiar shade of meaning whenread in connexion with the following passage by Massinger from the_Virgin Martyr_, I. 1, 236:--

 In all growing empires Even cruelty is useful; some must suffer And be set up examples to strike terror In others, though far off: but when a state Is raised to her perfection, and her bases Too firm to shrink, or yield, we may use mercy And do't with safety. 

The _Virgin Martyr_ is noticed October 6th, 1620, as newly reformed. Itwas probably written not long before. The two passages above mentionedwould seem to bring the two plays into connexion. But, it may be asked, what proof have we that it was a production of Massinger and Fletcher?As for the latter, there can be no doubt. His double endings aresufficient proof. As for the Massinger part, there is first theprobability of his being Fletcher's partner, as the play belongs to aperiod when we know they were working together; secondly, the metricalstyle could belong to nobody else; thirdly, according to his well-knownmanner, he has allusions to and repetitions of expressions in his otherplays. As I have gone through Massinger with a view to theserepetitions, I propose to notice those that occur in the present play. When I allude to a play going under the name of Beaumont and Fletcher aspartly Massinger's, I am supported either by Mr. Fleay's tables, published in the _Transactions of the New Shakspere Society_, or to myown extension of these tables published in the _Eng. Studien_, a Germanperiodical for English literature and philology. 

Act I. The First Scene is by Massinger, who almost always begins thejoint plays. On page 210 we have--

 When I should pass with glory to my rest. 

Compare _Virgin Martyr_, V. 2. 319. 

 When thou shouldst pass with honour to thy rest. 

On page 211, And end that race You have so long run strongly, like a child, is a repetition of the idea in _Virgin Martyr_. On page 212 "GraveMaurice"; here "Grave" is Count Maurice, who is also so called in_Love's Cure_, I. 2. Bobadilla's speech. (_Love's Cure_ is by Massingerand another author, not Fletcher. )

Page 213. 

 The desire of glory Was the last frailty wise men ere put off. 

This occurs again in _A Very Woman_, V. 4, line 10, --

 Though the desire of fame be the last weakness Wise men put off. 

Though the thought occurs in Tacitus and Simplicius, Milton seems tohave adopted it, as he has done many other of his most strikingpassages from Massinger. It occurs also in at least one other play ofMassinger's, but the passage has escaped me for the moment. 

Same page:--

 'Tis like yourself, Like Barnavelt, and in that all is spoken. 

An expression which, with a slight change from "spoken" to"comprehended, " occurs in almost every one of Massinger's plays. 

Act I. Scene 2, is also by Massinger. On page 218, --

 We need not add this wind by our observance To sails too full already. 

This reminds us of the common Massinger simile, --

 Too large a sail for your small bark. 

And _Virg. Mar_. , I. 1. 85, --

 You pour oil On fire that burns already at the height. 

Both similes occur in almost all Massinger's plays. 

The situation on page 219 has a striking resemblance to a similar scenewith Cranmer in _Henry VIII_. Both Maurice and Cranmer are to bedisgraced by being kept waiting outside while their enemies were atCouncil. I cannot help here repeating what I have expressed before, that_Henry VIII_. As we have it is not the work of Shakespeare and Fletcher, but of Massinger and Fletcher, with only fragments of the Shakespeareplay. 

Act I. Scene 3, is by Fletcher. 

Act II. Scene 1, is by Massinger. 

On page 231 we have, --

 When the hot lyon's breath Burns up the fields. 

Compare _Parliament of Love_, I. 5. , Montrose, --

 When the hot lion's breath singeth the fields. 

A little lower down, "At all parts" occurs in almost every play ofMassinger. 

On page 232, "This I foresaw, " is also very common in similarsituations. Among numerous cases I refer to the _Unnatural Combat_, ActIII. , about the end, and _Maid of Honour_, II. Iii. , where exactly thesame words are used. 

Page 233, "Be ne'er remembered, " occurs in almost all Massinger's plays. It is the most frequent of his many repetitions. 

A little lower down. "And something there I'll do, " is a well-knownMassingerism, occurring everywhere in his plays. 

II. 2, is by Fletcher; 3, and 4, 5, 6, 7 are also probably his. 

III. 1, is Fletcher's. On page 250 Barnavelt's hope that the soldierswill regret him because he fed and nursed them, stands in flagrantopposition to what Massinger says of Barnavelt's cashiering the Captain, on page 215. 

III. 2, is by Massinger. 

Page 252, "But that is not the hazard that I would shun, " is one of thecommonest Massingerisms. The passage on page 253 has been mentionedalready. Massinger is almost the only later dramatist who has a largenumber of dissyllable "tions. " We have here (253), --

 Of what condi_ti-on_ soever, we Palliate seditions. 

His share of the present play presents many such cases. 

III. 3, seems also by Massinger. 

III. 4, is by Fletcher. On page 263 there is an unmistakablereminiscence of _Henry VIII_. , Wolsey's "Farewell. "

III. 5 (also marked 4), is by Massinger. On page 264 occurs, "At nopart, " one of the commonest Massingerisms; and a little lower down, --

 Ever maintained The freedom I was born to. 

Compare _Great Duke of Florence_, I. 1-4, --

 For I must use the freedom I was born with. 

It also occurs in other Massinger plays. 

III. 6, is by Fletcher. 

IV. 1, is by Fletcher. 

IV. 2, is by Fletcher. 

IV. 3, is by Fletcher. Here occurs another allusion to _Henry VIII_. , --

 And glide away Like a spent exhalation. 

Compare _Henry VIII_. , III. 2, 226:--

 shall fall Like a bright exhalation in the evening. 

Fletcher does not repeat himself often, and these two exceptions areimportant. 

IV. 4, is apparently by Massinger, but contains no repetitions. 

IV. 5, is by Massinger. There are no clear Massingerisms, but themetrical style, and the allusion to Raleigh already mentioned, make itplain that the Scene is his. 

V. 1, is also Massinger's. The end of this Scene I have not seen, aspages 296-305 were missing in the proof-sheets I examined. Nearly allScene 2 is also missing. It and the rest of the play seem to beFletcher's, who, as usual, spoiled Massinger's fine conception ofBarnavelt, and makes him whine like Buckingham in _Henry VIII_. Thismoral collapse of all energy in the face of death in the two charactersis significant. Massinger would have carried out the scene in quiteanother tone. Some of the Fletcher scenes in this play, in which he hasan unusually large share, are surprisingly good, and remind us ofFletcher at his best, in _Philaster_ and the earlier plays. He failshere, as he always does, in the delineation of character. Nowhere isthis break-down more characteristic than in Buckingham and Barnavelt. Itgives the end of our play quite a wrench, and deprives Barnavelt of thesympathies which we had been forced to turn on him through his intrepidbehaviour in the great trial scene. We had almost gained the convictionthat his aims were really pure, and here we are called on to witness hisutter collapse, in which he almost whines for pardon for his sins, and, like all worthless fellows without character seems actually to soften ingratitude to the man who sent him to his death. 

This conclusion, I say, weakens the dramatic power of the close, but itdoes not prevent Sir John Barnavelt from occupying a high place amongour dramatic treasures. R. BOYLE. 

ST. PETERSBURG, New Year's Eve, 1882. 

FINIS. 

FOOTNOTES:

[1] Vid. Appendix. 

[2] Reprinted in Mrs. Bray's _Tamar and the Tavy_. 

[3] Printed in _The Court and Times uf Charles the First_, &c. Edited, with an introduction and notes, by the author of _Memoirs of SophiaDorothea, Consort of George I_. , &c. (Vol. I. P. 104. London, 1848. )8vo. 

[4] Mr. Fleay thinks that _Dick of Devonshire_ was written byR. Davenport. "The conduct of the plot, " he observes, "thecharacterisation, the metre, the language are very like the _CityNightcap_. " The reader must judge between us. I find it difficult tobelieve that Davenport could have preserved throughout five acts suchclear directness of style. 

[5] The old form of "pop-gun. "

[6] Xeres. 

[7] Cadiz. 

[8] Span. Picaro, a rogue or thief. Nares quotes several instances of"picaro" and "picaroon" from our early writers. 

[9] It would be an improvement to read "enkindled, " or "kindled at thefirst. "

[10] Cf. Heywood's _Faire Maid of the West_: part one (Works, II. 306), "And joyne with you a ginge of lusty ladds. " The meaning is "band, company. " The word is not uncommon among Elizabethan writers, and isalso found much earlier. 

[11] Span. Caraca, a ship of large size. Nares quotes from Beaumont andFletcher. 

[12] Halliwell quotes Minsheu: "The Spanish _borachoe_, or bottlecommonly of a pigges skinne, with the haire inward, dressed inwardlywith rozen and pitch to keepe wine or liquor sweet. " Hence the word cameto be applied to a drunkard. 

[13] A stately Spanish dance. Nares' article sub. 'Pavan' is full andinteresting. 

[14] The repetition of the words "such a" is probably a clerical error:the Alexandrine is clumsy. 

[15] Skirmishers or sharpshooters. 

[16] Nares quotes from Taylor's _Workes_, 1630:--"So horseman-shiphath the trot, the amble, the _racke_, the pace, the false and wildgallop, or the full speed, " &c. 

[17] Street bullies, such as are introduced in Nabbes' _Bride_, Middleton and W. Rowley's _Fair Quarrel_, &c. The exploits of a "RoaringGirl" are admirably set forth by Dekker and Middleton. 

[18] The full form "God refuse me" occurs in Webster's _White Devil_(ed. 1871, p. 7), where Dyce quotes from Taylor, the water poet: "Wouldso many else in their desperate madnes desire God to Damne them, toRenounce them, to Forsake them, to Confound them, to Sinke them, to_Refuse_ them?" "_Against Cursing and Swearing_, " _Works_, 1630. 

[19] "The Saturday Night, some sixteen sail of the Hollanders, and aboutten White Hall Men (who in England are called Colliers) were commandedto fight against the Castle of Punthal, standing three miles from Cadiz:who did so accordingly; and discharged in that service, at the least, 1, 600 shot. " _Three to One_, &c. (Arber's _English Garner_, I. 626). 

[20] Sc. Companions: _Mids. Night's Dream_, III. , i. ; Shirley's_Wedding_, k. V. , &c. 

[21] Middleton says somewhere (in A Fair Quarrel, I think):--

 "The Infinity of Love Holds no proportion with Arithmetick. "

[22] To "look babies in the eyes" was a common expression for peeringamorously into the eyes. 

[23] Sc. Fagot. 

[24] "Barleybreake" (the innocent sport so gracefully described in thefirst book of the _Arcadia_) is often used in a wanton sense. 

[25] A common form of expression. Everybody remembers Puck's--

 "I'll put a girdle round about the earth In forty minutes. "

Cf. Chapman's _Bussy D'Ambois_, I. 1. --

 "In tall ships, richly built and ribd with brasse, To put a Girdle round about the world. "

[26] Furnished with "bosses, " which seem to have been the name for sometinkling metal ornaments. Nares quotes from Sp. _Moth. Hub_. I. 582:--

 "The mule all deck'd in goodly rich array, With bells and bosses that full loudly rung. "

[27] Cf. _Spanish Tragedy_, sc. Vi. :--

 "A man hanging and _tottering_ and _tottering_, As you know the wind will wave a man. "

(Quoted by Mr. Fleay in illustration of the "tottering colours" in _KingJohn_, v. 5, 7. )

[28] One is reminded of Shakespeare's--

 "Had I _as many sons as I have hairs_, I would not wish them to a fairer death. "--_Macbeth_, v. 8. 

[29] "That e'er o'erclouded, " I should prefer. 

[30] MS. _Exit_. 

[31] Eringoes are often mentioned as a provocative by early writers:_Merry Wives_, v. 5, &c. 

[32] Sc. Mallet. 

[33] Sc. I lying in my _trundle-bed_. 

[34] To "make ready" is to dress; so to "make unready" is to undress. The expression was very common. 

[35] A large salt-cellar was placed in the middle of the table: guestsof importance sat "above the salt, " inferior guests below. Abundantillustrations are given in Nares' Glossary. 

[36] In Brand's _Popular Antiquities_ (Bohn's _Antiq. Libr_. , II. 70-77)there is an interesting article on "Groaning Cake and Cheese. "

[37] A large coach: the derivation of the word is uncertain. 

[38] The next word is illegible in the MS. We should have expected"_Exeunt Fer. , Man. , & attendants_. "

[39] Vid. Vol. I. 307. 

[40] The schoolmen's term for the confines of hell. 

[41] I have followed the punctuation of the MS. , though I am tempted toread, "What to doe? pray with me?"

[42] A stage-direction for the next scene. 

[43] Sc. Bravadoes. 

[44] The biting of the thumb is here a mark of vexation: to bite one'sthumb _at_ a person was considered an insult (_Rom. And Jul_. , i. 1). 

[45] A diminutive of "cock" (_Tempest_, ii. 1, &c. ). 

[46] The conceit is very common. Compare (one of many instances)Dekker's _Match me in London_, iv. 1--

 "You oft call Parliaments, and there enact Lawes good and wholesome, such as who so breake Are hung by the purse or necke, but as the weake And smaller flyes i'th Spiders web are tane When great ones teare the web, and free remain. "

[47] The reading of the MS. Is "snapsance, " which is clearly wrong. "Snaphance was the name for the spring-lock of a musket, and then forthe musket itself. It is said that the term was derived from the Dutch_snap-haans_ (poultry stealers), a set of marauders who made use of it"(_Lilly's Dramatic Works_, ed. Fairholt, II. , 272). "Tarrier" must mean"a person that causes delay": cf. A passage from Sir Thomas Overbury'scharacter of "a meene Petty fogger":--"He cannot erre before judgment, and then you see it, only _writs of error_ are the _tariers_ that keepehis client undoing somewhat the longer" (quoted in Todd's _Johnson_, sub_tarrier_). 

[48] "One being condemned to be shot to death for a rape: the maid [sic]in favour of his life was content to beg him for her husband. Whichbeing condiscended unto by the Judge, _according to the lawe of Spainein that behalfe_: in steps me the hangman all in a chafe and said untothe Judge. Howe (I pray you, sir) can that be, seeing the stake isalready in the ground, the rope, the arrowes, the Archers all in areadines, and heere I am come for him. " (Anthony Copley's _Wits, Fits, and Fancies_, 1614, p. 120. ) Here is another merry tale, with rathermore point in it, from the same collection:--"A fellow being to suffer, a maide came to the gallowes to beg him for her husband, according asthe custome of _Spaine_ dispenceth in that case. The people seeing thissaid unto the fellow: Now praise God that he hath thus mercifulliepreserv'd thee, and see thou ever make much of this kinde woman that sofriendly saves thy life. With that the Fellow viewing her and seeing agreat skarre in her face, which did greatlie disfigure her, a long nose, thin lips and of a sowre complexion, hee said unto the Hangman: On (mygood friend) doe thy duty: Ile none of her. " (p. 160. )

[49] Cf. _Rom. And Jul_. , I. , iii. , 76, "Why, he's a man of wax, " whereDr. Ingleby (who has no doubt learnt better by this time) once took themeaning to be, "a man of puberty, a proper man. " Steevens happilycompared Horace's "_cerea_ Telephi brachia. "

[50] The old spelling for "bawbles. "

[51] "Slug. A ship which sails badly. " Halliwell. I cannot recallanother instance of the use of the word in this sense. 

[52] The "trundle-bed" (or "truckle-bed") was a low bed moving oncastors. In the day-time it was placed under the principal or "high"bed: at night it was drawn out to the foot of the larger bed. Vid. Nares, sub "truckle bed" and "trundle bed. "

[53] The reading of the MS. Is unintelligible. For _All_. I would read_Alq_. , and for "Law you?"--by a very slight change--"Love you?" (thequestion being addressed to Henrico). Then what follows is intelligible. 

[54] "Flay" is usually, if not always, written "flea" in old authors. 

[55] MS. "For 3 hellish sins:" the word "For" is no doubt repeated from_Fer_. 

[56] The passage might be tortured into verse, somewhat as follows:--

 "Nay 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 yield us bridegroome, -- I to the daughter, thou to the mother. "

[57] We ought, no doubt, to read "professed, "--a trisyllable. 

[58] An allusion is intended to the tailor's "hell, "--the hole under thecounter. 

[59] _Vide_ note on Vol. I. , p. 175. 

[60] MS. Tracning. 

[61] In the MS. The stage direction has been altered to "Enter SirGefferie & Bunche. " The whole of the colloquy between Sucket and Crackbyis marked as if to be omitted. Doubtless this was one of the"reformacons" made at the instance of the Master of the Revels. 

[62] Such would seem to be the reading of the MS. , but it is notquite plain. I suspect that the true reading is "tripe-wives" (cf. Oysterwives, &c. ). 

[63] I. E. , Besár las manos (hand-kissing). 

[64] MS. "will. "

[65] Perhaps we should rather read:--

 "Fie, Sister; 'Tis a pretty gent[leman], I know you love him. "

[66] The words "I faith" have been crossed out in the MS. --as beingirreverent. 

[67] MS. "whom. "

[68] Cf. _The Ladies Privilege_, i. 1. (Glapthorne's Works, ii. 99)--

 "For my services Pay me with pricelesse treasure of a kisse, While from the balmy fountaynes of thy lips Distils a moisture precious as the Dew The amorous bounty of the morne Casts on the Roses cheeke. "

[69] In the MS. The word "witnes" has been crossed out and "vouchers"substituted. 

[70] The introductory part of this scene, up to the entrance of thesteward, had been omitted by the copyist and is added on the last leafof the play. 

[71] In the margin we find the words "Well said, Mr. Steward: a goodobservation. "

[72] "Pride" has been crossed out in the MS. 

[73] "What? does he plucke it out of his Codpeece? Yes, here lyes allhis affeccon. "--Marginal note in MS. 

[74] "A verrie politique drunkard"--"I think the barrell of Hedlebergsin his bellye. "--Marginal notes in MS. 

[75] "Tis well his friends here to reconcile ... ... For assault andbattery elce. "--the other words in the marginal note are illegible. 

[76] "It were but cast away on such a beast as thou art. " Marginal note. 

[77] To "take in" is a common phrase for "to take by storm. "

[78] Pappenheim fell at the battle of _Lützen_, November 16, 1632; butthere had been fighting at _Maestricht_ in the earlier part of the year. 

[79] MS. Pdue. 

[80] The first reading was--"Hold, hold, good Captaine, tis our mosttemperate Steward. "

[81] 'Heere, here' is a correction (in the MS. ) for 'what then?'

[82] MS. Trime. 

[83] These words are crossed out in the MS. 

[84] Therefore this play would seem to have been acted at theWhitefriars, i. E. At the Salisbury Court theatre. (F. G. Fleay. )

[85] The "jig" seems to have been a comic after-piece consisting ofmusic and dancing. In Mr. Collier's _Hist. Of Dram. Lit_. , iii. 180-85(new ed. ), the reader will find much curious information on the point. The following passage from Shirley's _Love in a Maze_ (1632) is notnoticed by Mr. Collier:--

 "Many gentlemen Are not, as in the days of understanding, Now satisfied without a jig, which since They cannot, with their honour, call for after The Play, they look to be serv'd up in the middle: Your dance is the best language of some comedies And footing runs away with all; a scene Express'd with life of art and squared to nature Is dull and phlegmatic poetry. "

--Works (ed. Gifford and Dyce), ii. 339. 

[86] MS. Him. 

[87] The name of the musician, I suppose; but the reading of the MS. Issomewhat illegible. 

[88] The passage at first ran as follows: "Umh, how long have I slept, or am I buried and walke in Elizium as the poets faine? Goe to, whereare they? in the ayre? I can percieve nothing nor remember anything hasbeen don or said!"

[89] '_Grimes_. Soe, now retire a little. Ile play him one fitt ofmirthe on my trebble to rouse him. _Ext_. ' These words occur in theleft-hand margin. Probably they should stand here in the text 'Ext. ' maymean either '_exeunt_' (musicians) or '_exit_' (_Grimes_ to disguisehimself). 

[90] 'Who are these! ha! the towne waits? why, how now, my masters, whatsthe matter, ha?'--Passage cancelled in MS. 

[91] 'Bakside' is a correction (in the MS. ) for 'buttock. '

[92] "Here Gent[lemen], share this amongst yee and pray for Grimes. "These words (addressed to the musicians) follow in the MS. But have beenscored through. 

[93] The MS. Gives "aurescion. "

[94] The reading of the MS. Seems to be "inuolute. " Mr. Fleay suggests"invocate. "

[95] The repetition of 'loath' in the next line is suspicious. 

[96] The arrangement of the verse is not easy: perhaps we should read--

 'Wishes for husband. A proper Gent[leman]; Ime happy She has made so iuditious an election. '

Our author usually makes a trisyllable of "gentleman"; here it countsonly as a monosyllable. 

[97] Between this word and the next there is a mark of omission in theMS. , and the words "t'were Sir" have been written above. 

[98] What follows, to the entrance of _Thurston_, is marked to beomitted. I have thought fit to restore it to the text. "Here's Mr. _Thurston, "_ concludes Clariana's speech. 

[99] Cf. A similar passage in Glapthorne's _Wit in a Constable_(Works, I. 182):--

 "a limber fellow, Fit onely for deare _Nan_, his schoole-fellow, A Grocer's daughter borne in _Bread-street_, with Whom he has used to goe to _Pimblico_ And spend ten groats in cakes and Christian ale. "

From Shirley we learn that the apprentices took their pleasurein the mild form of treating their sweethearts to cream andprunes:--

 "You have some festivals, I confess, but when They happen, you run wild to the next village, Conspire a knot and club your groats apiece For cream and prunes, not daring to be drunk. " (_Honoria and Mammon_, v. I. ). 

Pimlico seems to have been a place near Hoxton famous for its ales andcustards; cf. Mayne's _City Match_, II. 6. --

 "Nay, captain, we have brought you A gentleman of valour, who has been In Moorfields often: marry it has been To squire his sisters and demolish custards At Pimlico. "

There is an unique tract entitled "Pimlyco or Runne Red cap, 'tis a madworld at Hoggesden, " 1609. 

[100] I cannot find that "bob" is used as a technical term in falconry. Mr. Fleay suggests that a "bob'd hawke" merely means a "hawk cheatedof her prey. " I rather think the meaning is a "hawk beaten or repulsedby her prey. "

[101] From "A Kalendar of the English Church, " p. 45 (Rivingtons: n. D. , but 1865), one learns that "Marriage is restrained by Law at thefollowing times unless with a License or Dispensation from the Bishopof the Diocese, his Chancellor, or Commissary, viz. , from Advent Sundayuntil eight days after the Epiphany; from Septuagesima until eight daysafter Easter; and from the Monday in Rogation week until TrinitySunday. "

[102] I venture to insert the word "poet": both sense and metre aredefective without it. 

[103] In the MS. "thee" is corrected into "you. "

[104] Some words have been cut away. 

[105] MS. Throng. 

[106] "_Thu_. And here she comes, I feare me"--crossed out in the MS. 

[107] Here a line follows in the MS:--

 "And verely she is much to blame in it. "

It is crossed through, and rightly. 

[108] "Puny" is not uncommonly spelt "puisne" (Fr. Puisné) in oldauthors. 

[109] The metre requires "unman[ner]ly. "

[110] MS. Have. 

[111] MS. Puisants. 

[112] The "Artillery Garden" was situated in Finsbury Fields, where alsowas the place of exercise for the City Trained Bands. In the"Antiquarian Repertory" (ed. 1807), i. 251-270, the reader will find aninteresting account of the Trained Bands and the Artillery Company. Oldwriters are fond of sneering at the City warriors. The following passageis from Shirley's "Witty Fair One, " v. 1:--"There's a spruce captainnewly crept out of a gentleman-usher and shuffled into a buff jerkinwith gold lace, that never saw service beyond Finsbury or theArtillery-Garden, marches wearing a desperate feather in his lady'sbeaver, while a poor soldier, bred up in the school of war all his life, yet never commenced any degree of commander, wants a piece of brass todischarge a wheaten bullet to his belly. "

[113] _"Vinum muscatum quod moschi odorem referat, propter dulcedinem_, for the sweetnesse and smell it resembles muske, " &c_. Minsheu's _Guideinto Tongues_ (apud Dyce's _Glossary_). 

[114] "Mooncalf" (originally the name for an imperfectly formed foetus)was used as a term of reproach, like dodypol, nincompoop, ninny, dunderhead, &c. 

[115] _Sc_. Trifling fellow, noodle. 

[116] The blades from Bilboa in Spain were esteem'd as highly as thoseof Toledo manufacture. 

[117] MS. Two. 

[118] "Striker" is a cant term for a losel, a wencher. 

[119] "Mew" is a falconer's term for the place where a hawk is confined. 

[120] This passage is repeated in _The Ladies Privilege_, at the end ofAct I. 

[121] "Curst" is an epithet applied to shrewish women and viciousbeasts. 

[122] This is the prettiest passage, I think, to be found in Glapthorne. 

[123] MS. Me. 

[124] "Oh me" is crossed out, and "once" written above. 

[125] The passage is bracketed in the MS. , and was probably meant to beomitted. 

[126] MS. Its. 

[127] Throughout the scene "judge" is substituted in the MS. For"recorder. "

[128] MS. Know. 

[129] This passage is bracketed in the MS. It could hardly have beenexpected to escape official censure. 

[130] MS. Led. 

[131] Bracketed in MS. 

[132] Early Greek writers held up the Scythians as models of justice andsimplicity (Iliad, xiii. 6, &c. ). Clearchus (apud Athen. , xii. 27)accuses them of cruelty, voluptuous living, and viciousness of everykind; but, in justice to the Scythians, it should be added that in his"animadversiones" to the "Deipnosophists" (when will somebody completeand print Dyce's translation?) the learned Schweighaeuser in no measuredlanguage accuses Clearchus of wanton recklessness and gross inaccuracy. 

[133] "What is the matter there? looke to the prisoners, " was the firstreading. 

[134] The passage is bracketed in the MS. 

[135] Erased in MS. 

[136] Before correction the passage stood "And now, madam, being yourservant and _Timothy_ I bring you newes!" The words "Stay, stay Mr. Justice, " &c. , were inserted afterwards. 

[137] Bracketed in MS. 

[138] The reading of the MS. Appears to be "a lonly. "

[139] Bracketed in MS. 

[140] The MS. Is a folio of thirty-one leaves, written in a small clearhand: it was purchased for the National Library in 1851 from the Earl ofDenbigh. 

[141] In May, 1622, "by reason of sickness and indisposition of bodywherewith it had pleased God to visit him, he had become incapable offulfilling the duties and was compelled to resign. "--Vid. Collier's"Hist. Eng. Dram. Lit. " I. 402 (new ed. ). 

[142] Mr. Warner, of the Manuscript Department of the British Museum, towhom we owe the excellent Catalogue of the Dulwich Collection, kindlydrew my attention to the autograph letter. 

[143] In the right-hand margin we find "Jo: R: migh. "--the names of theactors who took the Captains' parts. Further on the name "Jo: Rice"occurs in full. John Rice stands last on the list of Chief Actors in thefirst fol. Shakespeare. The reader will find an account of him inCollier's "Hist. Of Eng. Dram. Lit. , " iii. 486-88. It is curious that heshould have taken so unimportant a part; but perhaps he sustained one ofthe chief characters besides. --"Migh" = Michael. 

[144] It seems to have been no uncommon thing for officers to keep thenames of soldiers on the list after their death and pocket their pay:cf. Webster's "Appius and Virginia, " v. I. , &c. 

[145] The reply of 1 _Cap_. , extending to thirteen lines, has beenscored through in the MS. , at the instance, I suppose, of the censoriousMaster of the Revels; it is, unfortunately, quite illegible. 

[146] The MS. Reads "_Enter Barnavelt, Modes-bargen, Leidenberck_, Vandermetten, _Grotius_, Taurinus, Utenbogart, _Hogebeets_. " Names notin italics are scored through. 

[147] MS. Tau. _Hog_. 

[148] All the characters remain on the stage in spite of this direction. 

[149] At first the line ran, "Of this proud _Prince of Orange_, at theworst. "

[150] MS. _Enter Pr. Of Orange, Gr: Henrie, Gra: William, Collonells &Captaines. Gr: Henrie_ and _Collonells_ are scored through. In theright-hand margin is written the name of an actor, _Mr. Rob:_

[151] The words "I feele too" probably belong to another speaker. 

[152] Fletcher is fond of using "ye" for "you. "

[153] In the MS. There is a marginal note:--"I like not this: neither doI think that the pr. Was thus disgracefully used, besides he is to muchpresented. G. B. " The initials are those of Sir George Buc, Master of theRevels. 

[154] "Shellain" is a corrupted form of Dutch _schelm_--a rogue, villain. 

[155] The stage direction in the MS. Runs thus:--"_Enter 1 Burger, Vandermitten, Grotius. " Vandermitten_ finally takes the place of1 _Burger_ and _Grotius_. 

[156] Beneath, in the MS. , is written the name of the actor who took thepart, "Mr. Gough. "

[157] In the right-hand margin are written the initials "R. T. " It isunknown what actor was the owner of them. 

[158] "Jo: Ri:" is written above, and "migh" in the right-hand margin. 

[159] "Mr. Rob. " took the Captain's part. 

[160] This Captain is identical with the one in the previous scene:"Jo: Rice:" took the part. 

[161] In the MS. _Vandermitten_ is scored through, and _Grotius_ writtenabove; but the alteration is not followed afterwards. 

[162] "R. T. " was responsible for the part. 

[163] In the right-hand margin are the initials "T. P. , " i. E. ThomasPollard. 

[164] In the right hand margin is a stage-direction, scored through, --"Droms--Enter ye Arminians: pass over. "

[165] MS. _Enter Bredero, Vandort_ and 2 Lords. The words in Romanletters are scored through in the MS. 

[166] The brackets are mine: whoever excluded the 2 _Lords_ left thesewords standing by an oversight. 

[167] These weak endings without a pause are characteristic ofMassinger. 

[168] Massinger is fond of the use of parentheses. 

[169] In the MS. _Leiden_ has been corrected into _Roterdam_. 

[170] The officer was personated by "R. T. "

[171] In the right-hand margin we find "Mr. Rice. "

[172] The Captains' parts were taken by "Mr. Rob. " and "Mighel. "

[173] The Dutch word _knol_ signifies both a turnip and a blockhead. 

[174] i. E. Explain to me. (A very common expression. )

[175] "Fry" has here the unusual sense of "buzz, hiss. "

[176] In the right-hand margin we find "Cap. Jo: R. "

[177] Underneath is written Migh. Who took the part of 1 _Huntsman_. 

[178] "And bycause some Hares by haunting the lowe watrie places dobecome foule and mesled, such Hares doe never follow the hard ways normake such pathes to their formes, but use all their subtleties andpollecies by the sides of the Ryvers, brookes and other waters. "Turberville's _Booke of Hunting_ (1575), p. 160. 

[179] "R. T. " took the part. 

[180] MS. They. 

[181] "Tho: Po:" (i. E. Thomas Pollard) is written in the right-handmargin. 

[182] MS. Potents. 

[183] The part was taken by "G. Lowen. "

[184] The Wife's part was taken by "Nich", who may possibly be (as Mr. Fleay suggests) Nicholas Tooley; but I suspect that a younger actor thanTooley would have been chosen for the part. 

[185] "Jo: Rice" took the part. 

[186] A corruption of Dutch _kermis_ (the annual fair). 

[187] An ironical expression (very common) of denial or astonishment. 

[188] _Sc_. Merrily (Dutch _lustig_), "Lustick, as the Dutchman says. "--_All's Well_, II. 3. 

[189] A corruption of Dutch _brui_. The meaning is "A plague on hisExcellencie!"

[190] In the MS. Follow two and a half lines, spoken by _Vandort_, and aspeech of _Barnavelt's_, twenty-four lines long. These were cancelled onrevision. I have succeeded in reading some of the lines; and perhapsafter a keener scrutiny the whole passage might become legible. But Ihave no doubt that the lines were cancelled by the author himself(Massinger?) in order to shorten the scene. 

[191] Nearly forty lines of dialogue that follow are cancelled in theMS. , in order to shorten the scene. 

[192] Not marked in MS. 

[193] This passage is marked in pencil, as for omission, in the MS. 

[194] The words "Upon my soule" are crossed through in the MS. 

[195] This line and the eleven lines following are marked for omissionin the MS. 

[196] The words "tooke that course That now is practisd on you" arecrossed through in the MS. , and "cutt of his opposites" substituted inthe right-hand margin. 

[197] In the MS. The words "you can apply this" are crossed through. 

[198] The words "to a Monarchie" are corrected in the MS. "to anotherforme. "

[199] Not marked in MS. 

[200] Not marked in MS. 

[201] T[homas] Holc[ombe] took the part. 

[202] "Mr. Rob. " took the part. 

[203] In the right-hand margin we find the actor's name, "Mr. Bir. , "i. E. Bir[ch]. 

[204] "The quantity of ten of any commodity; as a _dicker_ of hides wasten hides, a _dicker_ of iron ten bars. See 'Fragment. Antiq. , ' p. 192. Probably from _decas_, Lat. "--Nares. 

[205] Sc. Pumpkin (Fr. ). 

[206] "Dewse-ace. _Deux et az_. " Cotgrave. (Cf. _Love's Labour's Lost_, I. 2. ) The lowest cast of the dice, two aces, was called "ames ace. "

[207] Among the Romans the highest cast was called _Venus_ and thelowest _canis_. (Cf. A well-known couplet of Propertius, lib. Iv. El. Viii. L. 45--

 "Me quoque per talos Venerem quaerente secundos Semper damnosi subsiluere canes. ")

[208] Sc. Quatre et trois. 

[209] Embroidered, figured. 

[210] The actors' names, "Mr. Rob. " and "Mr. Rice, " are written in theright-hand margin. 

[211] A term of contempt, like "poor John. "

[212] To set up one's rest, meant, as has been abundantly shown byShakespearean commentators, to stand upon one's cards at _primero_; butthe word "pull" in this connexion is not at all easy to explain. Thegeneral sense of the present passage is plain: "Is my life held in suchpaltry esteem that slaves are allowed to gamble for it as for a stake atcards?" We have nowhere a plain account of _primero_. When the "CompleatGamester" was published (in 1674) the game had been discontinued. Thevariety of quotations given by Nares, under _Primero_ and _Rest_, issimply distracting. There are two passages (apud Nares) of Fletcher'sbearing on the present difficulty:--

 "My _rest is up_, wench, and I _pull_ for that Will make me ever famous. " _Woman's Prize_, I. 2. 

 "Faith, sir, my _rest is up_, And what I now _pull_ shall no more afflict me Than if I play'd at span-counter. " _Monsieur Thomas_, IV. 9. 

Dyce accepts Nares' suggestion that _pull_ means to _draw a card_; butif a player is standing on his cards, why should he want to draw a card?There is an old expression, to "pull down a side, " i. E. To ruin one'spartner (by bad play); and I am inclined to think that to "pull at arest" in _primero_ meant to try to pull down (beat, go beyond) theplayer who was standing on his cards. The first player might say, "Myrest is up"; the other players might either discard or say, "See it";then the first player would either "revie" it (cover with a larger sum)or throw up his cards. At length--for some limitation would have beenagreed upon--the challenger would play his cards, and the opponentswould "pull at his rest"--try to break down his hand. I am not at allsure that this is the proper explanation; but _pull_ in the text cannotpossibly mean _draw a card_. 

[213] The body of Leydenberg was not exposed until two days afterBarneveld's execution. 

[214] Charles I. Was particularly anxious that these trained bandsshould be made as efficient as possible, In the "Analytical Index to theSeries of Records known as the Remembrancia" (printed for theCorporation of the City of London, 1878) there are several letters fromthe Lords of the Council to the Lord Mayor on this subject (pp. 533-9). The Directions sent round to the Lord Lieutenants (An. 1638) concerningthe Trained Bands of the several counties are given in Rushworth's_Historical Collections_, Part 2, vol. I. P. 790. 

[215] An allusion, of course, to Bardolph's famous definition of"accommodated" (2 _Henry IV_. , iii. 2). 

[216] _Fox_ was a cant term for a sword of English make. At HounslowHeath there was a sword-blade manufactory:--"Nov 30 (1639). BenjaminStone, blade maker, Hounslow Heath, to the Officers of the Ordnance. Will always be ready to deliver 1, 000 swords of all fashions every monththroughout the year, and will put in such security as the office shalldesire. Has now ready at the Tower and in his own house 2, 000 swords todeliver when the officers shall please. "--Calendar of State Papers, Domestic Series, 1639-40, p. 134. 

[217] _Ticktacks_ was a game somewhat similar to backgammon. It isdescribed in the _Compleat Gamester_, 1674. 

[218] The Pacification of Berwick took place in June, 1639. 

[219] Tobacco-pipefuls; but no doubt a pun was intended. For _Bermudas_tobacco Nares quotes from _Clitus's Whimz_. , p. 135, "Where beingfurnished with tinder, match, and a portion of decayed _Bermoodus_ theysmoke it most terribly. "

[220] Our forefathers esteemed the March brewing; we the October. 

[221] To "build a sconce" means, I suppose, to fix a candle in acandle-stick. 

[222] This speech of Sir Richard's is very much in Shirley's style:cf. _Lady of Pleasure_ (I. 1). 

[223] Galley-foist was the name given to long many-oared barges, particularly the Lord Mayor's barge of state. Foist is also a term for asharper; and gallifoist was intended to be pronounced here gullifoist. 

[224] An account of the way to play _Gleek_ is given in the _CompleatGamester_, 1674. 

[225] Ambergrease was not uncommonly used for culinary purposes. 

[226] Father-in-law is often used by old writers for step-father. Perhaps "by a" is a correction for "to a. "

[227] Title, mark of distinction (Hamlet, I. 4, &c. ). 

[228] A head-covering worn by women. "A night-rail (for a woman) pignon, pinon, " Sherwood's Engl. -French Dict. 1650. 

[229] To be "in the suds" was an expression for to be "in the dumps. "

[230] Vid. Notes of the Commentators on _Henry V_. , iii. 7 ("straittrossers"). 

[231] Regals were a kind of small portable organ: vide Nares. 

[232] Cf. A passage in Shirley's _Witty Fair One_ (IV. 2): "What makesso many scholars then come from Oxford or Cambridge like market-womenwith dorsers full of lamentable tragedies and ridiculous comedies whichthey might here vent to the players, but they will take no money forthem?"

[233] The Theorbo was a kind of lute. 

[234] On June 20, 1632, a royal proclamation was made "commanding theGentry to keep their Residence in at their Mansions in the Country, andforbidding them to make their habitations in London and placesadjoining. " The text of the proclamation is in Rushworth's HistoricalCollections (1680), Pt. II. Vol. I. P. 144. In a very interesting littlevolume of unpublished poems, temp. Charles I. (MS. 15, 228, BritishMuseum), there is an "Oade by occasion of his Maiesties Proclamatyon forGentlemen to goe into the Country. " It is too long to quote here infull, but I will give a few stanzas:--

 Nor lett the Gentry grudge to goe Into the places where they grew, Butt thinke them blest they may doe so: Who would pursue

 The smoaky gloryes of the Towne, That might goe till his Native Earth And by the shineing fyre sitt downe Of his own hearth;

 Free from the gripeing Scriv'ners bands And the more biteing Mercers bookes, Free from the bayte of oyled hands And painted lookes?

 The Country, too, eene chops for rayne: You that exhale it by your pow'r, Let the fatt drops fall downe again In a full show'r. 

 And you, bright beautyes of the time, That spend your selves here in a blaze, Fixe to your Orbe and proper Clime Your wandring Rayes. 

 Lett no dark corner of the Land Bee unimbellisht with one Gemme, And those which here too thick doe stand Sprinkle on them. 

 And, trust mee, Ladyes, you will find In that sweet life more sollid joyes, More true contentment to the minde, Then all Towne-Toyes. 

 Nor Cupid there less blood doth spill, Butt heads his shafts with chaster love, Not feath'red with a Sparrow's quill Butt of a Dove. 

 There may you heare the Nightingale, The harmeless Syren of the wood, How prettily shee tells a tale Of rape and blood. 

 Plant trees you may and see them shoot Up with your Children, to bee serv'd To your cleane Board, and the fayr'st fruite To bee preserved;

 And learne to use their sev'rall gumms. Tis innocente in the sweet blood Of Cherrys, Apricocks and Plumms To bee imbru'd. 

[235] The Galliard, a lively French dance described in Sir John Davies'_Orchestra_ (st. 67). 

[236] Sc. Good-bye. Cf. Shirley's _Constant Maid_, i. 1, "Buoy, _Close_, buoy, honest _Close_: we are blanks, blanks. "

[237] Can the reference be to _Troilus and Cressida_?

[238] Ben Jonson's _Alchemist_. 

[239] Puisne (i. E. Puny) was the term applied to students at the Inns ofCourt; also to Freshmen at Oxford. 

[240] Cf. Shirley's _Honoria and Mammon_, i. 2:

 "Go to your Lindabrides I'the new brothel; she's a handsome _leveret_. "

[241] The first edition of this well-known book was published in 1628. _Parsons Resolutions_ is a fictitious book. 

[242] The "lamentable ballad of the Lady's Fall" has been reprinted byRitson and Percy. 

[243] In the MS. Follows a line, scored through:--

 "And while my footman plaies sigh out my part. "

[244] Shirley delights in ridiculing the affectation in which thegallants of his time indulged. Cf. A very similar passage in _The Ladyof Pleasure_, v. 1. 

[245] The cant language of thieves. In Harman's _Caveat for Cursitors_, or some of Dekker's tracts, "Pedlars' French" may be found in abundance. 

[246] I print this passage exactly as I find it in the MS. With a littletrouble it might be turned into good law. 

[247] _Aut Shirley aut Diabolus_. Cf. _Duke's Mistress_, iv. 1:

 "You shall lead destiny in cords of silk, And it shall follow tame and to your pleasure. "

[248] Sc. Swaggering. 

[249] A Chrisome child was one that died within a month after birth, atthe time of wearing the Chrisome cloth (i. E. The cloth formerly wraptround a child after baptism). Device implies that his rival is perfectlyhelpless among ladies, a mere child. 

[250] "In the City of London, " says Nares, "young freemen who march atthe head of their proper companies on the lord mayor's day, sometimeswith flags, were called _whifflers_ or _bachelor whifflers_, not becausethey cleared the way but because they went first as whifflers did. --'Ilook'd the next Lord Mayor's day to see you o' the livery, or one of the_bachelor_ whifflers. _City Match_. '"

[251] These words are scored through in the MS. 

[252] To "bear a brain" means to have understanding. The expression isvery common. 

[253] Not marked in the MS. 

[254] The earliest reference I have yet found to the "Cup at_Newmarket_" is in Shirley's _Hyde Park_, v. 1. 

[255] The exact date of his death is unknown; he was dead before theperformance of Ben Jonson's _Bartholomew Fair_ (1614). 

[256] "Merlin. The _falco aesalon_ of Linnaeus, a small species of hawk;sometimes corrupted into murleon. It was chiefly used to fly at smallbirds, and Latham says it was particularly appropriated to the serviceof ladies. "--Nares. 

[257] Thomas Heywood gives an account of the "great ship" in his "Truedescription of his Majesties Royall Ship built this yeare 1637 atWool-witch in Kent, " &c. 1637. 4to. 

[258] "Back side" = back yard. 

[259] A wild cat. 

[260] This scene was added, as an afterthought, at the end of the MS. Inthe body of the MS. We find only "_A song ith taverne. Enter Thomas_. "

[261] The stage direction is my own. 

[262] All that I know at present of Mr. Adson is that he published in1621 a collection of "Courtly Masquing Ayres. "

[263] A corruption of "_save-reverence_": we usually find the form"sir-reverence. "

[264] i. E. Drunk. 

[265] An allusion to Webster's "_Vittoria Coromborea, or the WhiteDevil_. "

[266] Not marked in MS. We have, instead, a note:--

 _"And then begin as was intended. "_

[267] Old authors constantly allude to the riotous conduct of the'prentices on Shrove Tuesday. 

[268] This is a correction (in the MS. ) for "to a Beggars tune. "

[269] So in Dekker & Middleton's _First Part of the Honest Whore_(IV. 3):--

 "_A sister's thread_ i' faith had been enough. "

Dyce was no doubt right in thinking that the expression is a corruptionof _sewster's_ thread. In Ford's _Lady's Trial_, Gifford altered"sister's thread" to "_silver_ thread. " Shirley has "sister's thread" in_Hyde Park_ (V. 1). 

[270] With this abuse cf. A very similar passage in Shirley's _Duke'sMistress_ (IV. 1). 

[271] The _Woman Hater_ in Beaumont and Fletcher's play. 

[272] "Canaries" was the name of a quick, lively dance. Cf. Middlemen's_Spanish Gipsy_ (IV. 2): "Fortune's a scurvy whore if she makes not myhead sound like a rattle and my heels dance the canaries. "

[273] Cf. A similar passage in Shirley's _Brothers_ (iii. 1). 

[274] In Sidney's _Arcadia_. 

[275] Cf. Jonson's _Every Man out of his Humour_, II. 1: "They saythere's a new motion of the city of _Niniveh_ with _Jonas_ and the whaleto be seen at _Fleet bridge_. " (A _motion_, of course, is a puppet-show. )

[276] This line occurs, word for word, in Shirley's _Bird in a Cage_(IV. 1):--

 ... "A bird to be made much on. She and the horse _That snorts at Spain by an instinct of nature_ Should have shown tricks together. "

[277] An allusion to the game of "barley-break. "

[278] In the MS. The speaker's name is omitted. I have chosen_Courtwell_ at a venture. 

[279] _Holland's Leaguer_ was the name of a notorious brothel inSouthwark. 

[280] _The Tell-Tale_. Through the courtesy of the Master, Dr. Carver, Ihave had an opportunity of examining this play. It is of no particularinterest. The comic part is very poor, suggesting William Rowley at hisworst. Here are some fair lines, the best I can find:--

 _Fide[lio]_. How? dead in prison?

 _Duke_. Dead, _Fidelio_: Things of theire nature, like [a] vipers brood, Kill their owne parents. But having sett the Court In some good order, my next busines Ys thus disguis'd to overlooke the Camp; For a rude army, like a plott of ground Left to yt selfe, growes to a wildernes Peopled with wolves & tigers, should not the prince Like to a carefull gardner see yt fenct, Waterd & weeded with industrious care, That hee ithe time of pruning nether spare Weeds for faire looks and painted bravery, nor Cut downe good hearbs and serviceable for Theire humble growth: the violet that is borne Under a hedg outsmells the blossomd thorne That dwells fare higher. 

 _Fide_. Yare full of goodnes & have layd out much In provision for the whole state. 

 _Duke_. My place: I am overseer And bound to seet provided for by pattent. For as the sunn, when lesser plannets sleep, Holds his continued progresse on and keepes A watchful eye over the world, so kings (When meaner subjects have their revillings And sports about them) move in a restless herde; The publique safty is theyr privat care. But now farewell; the army once surveighd Expect mee here. 

 _Fid_. Your pleasure bee obaid. 

[281] A few years ago I suggested in "Notes and Queries" that thisunknown author was Cyril Tourneur. Afterwards I discovered that I hadbeen anticipated by Thomas Lovell Beddoes. Curiously enough Mr. Fleayhad independently arrived at the same conclusion. Mr. Swinburne (_Essayon Chapman_) is inclined to attribute the _Second Maiden's Tragedy_ toMiddleton. 

[282] The next scene is marked _Act 2, Scene 1_.