Chapter IV: Part 4

_Cle._ Know you his name?

_Dor._ That he deny'd me too: a vow had bar'd him.

_Cal._ In that he was not noble to be nameless.

_Dor._ Daughter you must remember him when I am dead,
And in a noble sort requite his piety,
'Twas his desire to dedicate this service
To your fair thoughts.

_Cal._ He knows me then?

_Dor._ I nam'd you,
And nam'd you mine: I think that's all his knowledge.

_Cle._ No name, no being?

_Cal._ Now I am mad to know him:
Saving mine honour, any thing I had now
But to enjoy his sight, but his bare picture;
Make me his Saint, I must needs honour him.

_Serv._ I know his name.

_Cal._ There's thy reward for't; speak it.

_Ser._ His man told me, but he desir'd my silence.

_Cal._ O _Jasper_ speak, 'tis thy good Masters cause too:
We all are bound in gratitude to compel thee.

_Ser. Lisander_? Yes, I am sure it was _Lisander_,

_Cal. Lisander_? 'twas _Lisander_.

_Cle._ 'Tis _Lisander_. O my base thoughts! my wicked!
To make question this act could be another mans:
'Tis _Lisander_, a handsome timber'd man?

_Ser._ Yes.

_Cle._ My _Lisander_! Was this friends absence to be mourn'd?

_Cal._ I grant it:
I'le mourn his going now, and mourn it seriously:
When you weep for him, Sir, I'le bear you company.
That so much honour, so much honesty
Should be in one man, to do things thus bravely,
Make me his Saint, to me give this brave service:
What may I do to recompence his goodness?
I cannot tell.

_Cle._ Come Sir, I know you are sickly, so are your men.

_Dor._ I must confess I am weak,
And fitter for a bed than long discourses.

_Cle._ You shall hear to morrow, to morrow provide Surgeons.

_Dor_. _Lisander_--

_Cal._ What new fire is this? _Lisander_-- [_Exeunt._

_Actus Secundus. Scena Prima._

_Enter_ Lisander, _and_ Lancelot.

_Lis._ Prethee good _Lancelot_ remember that
Thy Master's life is in thy trust, and therefore
Be very carefull.

_Lanc._ I will lose mine own, rather than hazard yours.

_Lisa._ Take what disguise
You in your own discretion shall think fittest,
To keep your self unknown.

_Lanc._ I warrant ye;
'Tis not the first time I have gone invisible:
I am as fine a Fairie in a business
Concerning night-work--

_Lisa._ Leave your vanities:
With this purse (which deliver'd,
You may spare your Oratory) convey this Letter to
_Calista's_ woman.

_Lanc._ 'Tis a handsom girle, Mistris _Clarinda_.

_Lisa._ I have made her mine. You know your work.

_Lan._ And if I sweat not in it,
At my return discard me. [_Exit._

_Lisa._ O _Calista_! the fairest! cruellest!

_Enter_ Clarange.

_Clar._ So early stirring? a good day to you.

_Lisa._ I was viewing Sir,
The site of your house, and the handsomness about it:
Believe me it stands healthfully and sweetly.

_Clar._ The house and Master of it really
Are ever at your service.

_Lisa._ I return it:
Now if you please go forward in your storie
Of your dear friend and Mistris.

_Clar._ I will tell it,
And tell it short, because 'tis breakfast time,
(And love is a tedious thing to a quick stomach)
You eat not yester-night.

_Lisa._ I shall endure Sir.

_Clara._ My self (and as I then deliver'd to you)
A Gentleman of noble hope, one _Lidian_,
Both brought up from our infancy together,
One company, one friendship, and one exercise
Ever affecting, one bed holding us,
One grief, and one joy parted still between us,
More than companions, twins in all our actions,
We grew up till we were men, held one heart still:
Time call'd us on to Arms, we were one Souldier,
Alike we sought our dangers and our honours,
Gloried alike one in anothers nobleness:
When Arms had made us fit, we were one lover,
We lov'd one woman, lov'd without division,
And woo'd a long time with one fair affection;
And she, as it appears, loves us alike too.
At length considering what our love must grow to,
And covet in the end, this one was parted,
Rivals and honours make men stand at distance.
We then woo'd with advantage, but were friends still,
Saluted fairly, kept the peace of love,
We could not both enjoy the Ladies favour,
Without some scandal to her reputation,
We put it to her choice, this was her sentence,
To part both from her, and the last returning
Should be her Lord; we obey'd, and now you know it;
And for my part, (so truely I am touch'd with't)
I will go far enough, and be the last too,
Or ne're return.

_Lisa._ A sentence of much cruelty;
But mild, compar'd with what's pronounc'd on me.
Our loving youth is born to many miseries.
What is that _Lidian_ pray ye?

_Clar. Calista_'s Brother, if ever you have heard of that fair Lady.

_Lisa._ I have seen her Sir.

_Clar._ Then you have seen a wonder.

_Lisa._ I do confess: of what years is this _Lidian_?

_Clar._ About my years: there is not much between us.

_Lisa._ I long to know him.

_Clar._ 'Tis a vertuous longing,
As many hopes hang on his noble head,
As blossoms on a bough in _May_, and sweet ones.

_Lisa._ Ye are a fair storie of your friend.

_Clar._ Of truth Sir: now, what's the matter?

_Enter a Servant._

_Serv._ There is a Gentleman
At door, would speak with you on private business.

_Clar._ With me?

_Serv._ He saies so, and brings haste about him.

_Clar._ Wait on him in. [_Exit Servant._

_Lisa._ I will retire the while, to the next room.

_Clar._ We shall not long disturb you.

_Enter_ Alcidon.

_Alci._ Save ye, Sir.

_Clara._ The like to you, fair Sir: pray you come near.

_Alci._ Pray you instruct me for I know you not.
With Monsieur _Clarange_ I would speak.

_Clar._ I am he, Sir:
Ye are nobly welcome; I wait your business.

_Alci._ This will inform you.

_Clar._ Will you please to sit down? [_Reads._
He shall command me Sir, I'le wait upon him
Within this hour.

_Alci._ Y'are a noble Gentleman,
Wil't please you bring a friend? we are two of us,
And pity either, Sir, should be unfurnish'd.

_Clar._ I have none now, and the time is set so short,
'Twill not be possible.

_Alci._ Do me the honour:
I know you are so full of brave acquaintance,
And worthy friends, you cannot want a partner:
I would be loth to stand still, Sir; besides,
You know the custom, and the vantage of it,
If you come in alone.

_Clar._ And I must meet it.

_Alci._ Send, we'l defer an hour, let us be equal:
Games won and lost on equal terms shew fairest.

_Clar._ 'Tis to no purpose to send any whither,
Unless men be at home by Revelation:
So please you breath a while; when I have done with him,
You may be exercis'd too: I'le trouble no man.

_Enter_ Lisander.

_Lisa._ They are very loud. Now what's the news?

_Clar._ I must leave you,
Leave you a while, two hours hence I'le return friend.

_Lisa._ Why, what's the matter?

_Clar._ A little business.

_Lisa._ And't be but a little, you may take me with ye.

_Clar._ 'Twill be a trouble to you.

_Lisa._ No indeed, to do you service, I account a pleasure.

_Clar._ I must alone.

_Lisa._ Why?

_Clar._ 'Tis necessity--
Before you pass the walks, and back again,
I will be with ye.

_Lisa._ If it be not unmannerly
To press you, I would go.

_Clar._ I'le tell you true, Sir,
This Gentleman and I upon appointment,
Are going to visit a Lady.

_Lisa._ I am no _Capuchin_, why should not I go?

_Alci._ Take the Gentleman,
Come he may see the Gentlewoman too,
And be most welcom, I do beseech you take him.

_Lis._ By any means, I love to see a Gentlewoman,
A prettie wench too.

_Clar._ Well, Sir, we'll meet you,
And at the place: My service to the Lady.

_Alci._ I kiss your hand. [_Exit._

_Clar._ Prethee read o're her Letter.

Lisander reads.

Monsieur,

_I Know you have considered the dark sentence_ Olinda _gave
us, and that (however she disguis'd it) it pointed more at
our swords edges than our bodies banishments; the last must
injoy her: if we retire, our youths are lost in wandring;
in emulation we shall grow old men, and feeble, which is
the scorn of love, and rust of honour, and so return more
fit to wed our Sepulchers, than the Saint we aim at; let us
therefore make our journey short, and our hearts ready, and
with our swords in our hands put it to fortune, which shall
be worthy to receive that blessing, I'le stay you on the
mountain, our old hunting place, this Gentleman alone runs_
_the hazard with me, and so I kiss your hand._

_Your Servant_ Lidian.

Is this your wench? you'l find her a sharp Mistris.
What have I thrust my self into? is this that _Lidian_
You told me of?

_Clar._ The same.

_Lisa._ My Ladies Brother?
No cause to heave my sword against but his?
To save the Father yesterday, and this morning,
To help to kill the Son? this is most courteous!
The only way to make the Daughter doat on me.

_Clar._ Why do you muse? would ye go off?

_Lisa._ No, no, I must on now; this will be kindly taken;
No life to sacrifice, but part of hers?
Do you fight straight?

_Clara._ Yes, presently.

_Lisan._ To morrow then,
The balefull tidings of this day will break out,
And this nights Sun will set in bloud; I am troubl'd:
If I am kill'd, I am happy.

_Clar._ Will you go friend?

_Lis._ I am ready Sir, fortune thou hast made me monstrous.

[_Exeunt._

_Enter_ Malfort, _and_ Clarinda.

_Malf._ Your cousin, and my true friend, lusty _Leon_,
Shall know how you use me.

_Clar._ Be more temperate,
Or I will never use, nor know you more
I'th' way of a servant: all the house takes notice
Of your ridiculous fopperie; I have no sooner
Perform'd my duties in my Ladies chamber,
And she scarce down the stairs, but you appear
Like my evil spirit to me.

_Malf._ Can the fish live out of the water, or the Salamander
Out of the fire? or I live warm, but in
The frying-pan of your favour?

_Cla._ Pray you forget
Your curious comparisons, borrowed from
The pond, and kitchin, and remember what
My Ladies pleasure is for th' entertainment
Of her noble Father.

_Ma._ I would learn the art of memory in your table book.

_Cla._ Very good sir, no more but up and ride, I apprehend
Your meaning, soft fire makes sweet mault Sir:
I'le answer you in a Proverb.

_Mal._ But one kiss from thy hony lip.

_Cla._ You fight too high, my hand is
A fair ascent from my foot, his slavering kisses
Spoil me more gloves,--enough for once, you'l surfeit
With too much grace.

_Mal._ Have you no imployment for me?

_C[la]._ Yes, yes, go send for _Leon_, and convey him
Into the private Arbour, from his mouth
I hear your praises with more faith.

_Ma._ I am gone; yet one thing e're I go, there's at the door
The rarest Fortune-teller, he hath told me
The strangest things; he knows ye are my Mistris,
And under seal deliver'd how many Children
I shall beget on you, pray you give him hearing,
He'l make it good to you.

_Cla._ A cunning man
Of your own making, howsoe'r I'le hear him
At your intreaty.

_Mal._ Now I perceive ye love me,
At my entreaty, come in friend--remember
To speak as I directed, he knows his lesson,
And the right way to please her; this it is
To have a head-piece. [_Exit._

_Enter_ Lancelot, _like a Fortune-teller, with a Purse,_
_and two Letters in it._

_Cla._ 'Tis said you can tell fortunes to come.

_Lan._ Yes Mistris and what's past;
Unglove your hand, by this straight line I see
You have lain crooked.

_Cla._ How? lain crooked?

_Lan._ Yes; and in that posture plaid at the old game,
(No body hears me, and I'le be no blab)
And at it lost your maiden-head.

_Cla._ A shrewd fellow;
'Tis truth, but not to be confess'd; in this
Your palmistry deceives you, something else Sir.

_Lan._ Ye are a great woman with your Lady, and
Acquainted with her counsels.

_Cla._ Still more strange.

_Lan._ There is a noble Knight _Lisander_ loves her,
Whom she regards not, and the destinies
With whom I am familiar, have deliver'd
That by your means alone, he must enjoy her.
Your hand again, yes, yes; you have already
Promis'd him your assistance, and what's more,
Tasted his bounty, for which, from the skye
There are 200. crowns dropp'd in a Purse,
Look back, you'l find it true; nay, open it,
'Tis good Gold I assure you.

_Cla._ How, two Letters? the first indors'd to me? this to my Lady?
Subscrib'd _Lisander_?

_Lan._ And the fortune-teller, his servant _Lancelot_.

_Cla._ How had I lost my eyes,
That I could not know thee? not a word of the loss
Of my virginity.

_Lan._ Nor who I am.

_Cla._ I'le use all speedy means for your dispatch
With a welcom answer, but till you receive it,
Continue thus disguis'd, Monsieur _Malfort_
(You know the way to humour him) shall provide
A lodging for you, and good entertainment;
Nay, since we trade both one way, thou shalt have
Some feeling with me, take that.

_Lan._ Bountifull wench may'st thou ne're want imployment.

_Cla._ Nor such pay boy. [_Exeunt._

_Enter_ Lidian, Alcidon, _(at one door)_ Lisander,
Clarange, _(at another.)_

_Lid._ You're welcom.

_Alci._ Let us do our office first,
And then make choice of a new piece of ground
To try our fortunes.

_Lisa._ All's fair here.

_Alci._ And here, their swords are equal.

_Lisa._ If there be any odds in mine, we will exchange.

_Alci._ We'l talk of that
When we are farther off, farewel.

_Lisa._ Farewel friend. [_Ex._ Lisander, _and_ Alcidon.

_Lidi._ Come let us not be idle.

_Cla._ I will find you imployment, fear not.

_Lid._ You know Sir, the cause that brings [u]s hither.

_Cla._ There needs no more discoursing,
No time, nor place for repetition now.

_Lid._ Let our swords argue, and I wish _Clarange_,
The proud _Olinda_ saw us.

_Cla._ Would she did;
What ever estimation she holds of me,
She should behold me like a man fight for her.

_Lid._ 'Tis nobly said; set on love; and my fortune--

_Cla._ The same for me, come home brave _Lidian_,
'Twas manly thrust, this token to the Lady,
Ye have it Sir, deliver it, take breath,
I see ye bleed apace, ye shall have fair play.

_Enter_ Lisander.

_Lis._ You must lye there a while, I cannot help you.

_Lid._ Nay, then my fortune's gone, I know I must dye:
Yet dearly will I sell my love, come on both,
And use your fortunes, I expect no favour;
Weak as I am, my confidence shall meet ye.

_Cla._ Yield up your cause and live.

_Lid._ What dost thou hold me?
A recreant, that prefers life before credit?
Though I bleed hard, my honour finds no Issue,
That's constant to my heart.

_Cla._ Have at your life then.

_Lis._ Hold, or I'le turn, and bend my sword against ye;
My cause _Clarange_ too, view this brave Gentleman,
That yet may live to kill you, he stands nobly,
And has as great a promise of the day
As you can tye unto your self, he's ready,
His sword as sharp, view him with that remembrance,
That you deliver'd him to me _Clarange_:
And with those eyes, that clearness will become ye:
View him, as you reported him; survey him,
Fix on your friendship Sir, I know you are noble,
And step but inward to your old affection;
Examine but that soul grew to your bosom,
And try then if your sword will bite, it cannot,
The edge will turn again, asham'd, and blunted;
_Lidian_, you are the pattern of fair friendship,
Exampled for your love, and imitated,
The Temple of true hearts, stor'd with affections,
For sweetness of your spirit made a Saint,
Can you decline this nobleness to anger?
To mortal anger? 'gainst the man ye love most?
Have ye the name of vertuous, not the nature?

_Lid._ I will sit down.

_Clar._ And I'le sit by you, _Lidian_.

_Lis._ And I'le go on, can Heaven be pleas'd with these things?
To see two hearts that have been twin'd together,
Married in friendship to the world, to wonder,
Of one growth, of one nourishment, one health,
Thus mortally divorc'd for one weak woman?
Can love be pleas'd? love is a gentle spirit,
The wind that blows the _April_ flowers, not softer;
She is drawn with doves to shew her peacefulness,
Lions and bloody Pards are _Mars's_ servants;
Would ye serve love? do it with humbleness,
Without a noise, with still prayers, and soft murmurs;
Upon her Altars offer your obedience,
And not your brawls; she's won with tears, not terrors:
That fire ye kindle to her deity
Is only gratefull when it's blown with sighs,
And holy Incense flung with white hand-innocence;
Ye wound her now; ye are too superstitious,
No sacrifice of bloud, or death she longs for.

_Lid._ Came he from Heaven?

_Clar._ He tells us truth good _Lidian_.

_Lisa._ That part of noble love which is most sweet,
And gives eternal being to fair beauty,
Honour, you hack i' pieces with your swords,
And that ye fight to crown, ye kill, fair credit.

_Clar._ Thus we embrace, no more fight, but all friendship,
And where love pleases to bestow his benefits,
Let us not argue.

_Lid._ Nay, brave Sir, come in too;
You may love also, and may hope, if ye do,
And not rewarded for't, there is no justice;
Farewel friend, here let's part upon our pilgrimage,
It must be so, _Cupid_ draws on our sorrows.
And where the lot lights--

_Clar._ I shall count it happiness,
Farewel, dear friend.

_Lis._ First, let's relieve the Gentleman
That lyes hurt in your cause, and bring him off,
And take some care for your hurts, then I will part too,
A third unfortunate, and willing wanderer. [_Exeunt._

_Enter_ Olinda, _and_ Calista.

_Oli._ My fears foresaw 'twould come to this.

_Cal._ I would your sentence had been milder.

_Olln._ 'Tis past help now.

_Cal._ I share in your despair, and yet my hopes
Have not quite left me, since all possible means
Are practised to prevent the mischief following
Their mortal meeting, my Lord is coasted one way,
My Father, though his hurts forbad his travel,
Hath took another, my Brother in Law _Beronte_
A third, and every minute we must look for
The certain knowledge, which we must endure
With that calm patience heav'n shall please to lend us.

_Enter_ Dorilaus, _and_ Cleander, _severally._

_Dor._ Dead both?

_Clea._ Such is the rumour, and 'tis general.

_Olin._ I hear my passing bell.

_Cal._ I am in a fevour.

_Cle._ They say their seconds too; but what they are,
Is not known yet, some worthy fellows certain.

_Dor._ Where had you knowledge?

_Clea._ Of the Country people, 'tis spoken every where.

_Dor._ I heard it so too;
And 'tis so common, I do half believe it,
You have lost a Brother, wench, he lov'd you well,
And might have liv'd to have done his country service,
But he is gone, thou fell'st untimely, _Lidian_,
But by a valiant hand, that's some small comfort,
And took him with thee too, thou lov'st brave company,
Weeping will do no good, you lost a servant,
He might have liv'd to have been your Master, Lady,
But you fear'd that.

_Olin._ Good Sir, be tender to me,
The news is bad enough, you need not press it,
I lov'd him well, I lov'd 'em both.

_Dor._ It seems so.
How many more have you to love so Lady?
They were both fools to fight for such a Fiddle;
Certain there was a dearth of noble anger,
When a slight woman was thought worth a quarrel.

_Olin._ Pray you think nobler.

_Dor._ I'le tell thee what I think, the plague, war, famine,
Nay put in dice and drunkenness (and those
You'l grant are pretty helps) kill not so many
(I mean so many noble) as your loves do,
Rather your lewdness, I crave your mercy, women,
Be not offended if I anger ye.
I am sure ye have touch'd me deep, I came to be merry,
And with my children, but to see one ruin'd
By this fell accident--are they all dead?
If they be, speak?

_Clean._ What news?

_Enter_ Beronte, Alcidon, Clarinda, _following with a_
_Letter._

_Ber._ What, dead? ye pose me;
I understand you not.

_Clea._ My Brother _Lidian_, _Clarange_, and their seconds.

_Ber._ Here is one of 'em, and sure this Gentleman's alive.

_Alci._ I hope so, so is your Son, Sir, so is brave _Clarange_:
They fought indeed, and they were hurt sufficiently;
We were all hurt, that bred the general rumour,
But friends again all, and like friends we parted.

_Clea._ Heard ye of _Lisander_?

_Ber._ Yes, and miss'd him narrowly:
He was one of the combatants, fought with this Gentleman,
Second against your Brother, by his wisdom
(For certainly good fortune follows him)
All was made peace, I'le tell you the rest at dinner,
For we are hungry.

_Alci._ I before I eat
Must pay a vow I am sworn to; my life, Madam,
Was at _Lisander's_ mercy, I live by it;
And for the noble favour, he desir'd me
To kiss your fair hand for him, offering
This second service as a Sacrifice
At the Altar of your vertues.

_Dor._ Come joy on all sides;
Heaven will not suffer honest men to perish.

_Clea._ Be proud of such a friend.

_Dor._ Forgive me, Madam,
It was a grief might have concern'd you near too.

_Clea._ No work of excellence but still _Lisander_,
Go thy waies, Worthy.

_Olin._ We'l be merry too,
Were I to speak again, I would be wiser.

[_Ex. Manent_ Cal. Clarin.

_Cal._ Too much of this rare cordial makes me sick,
However I obey you.

_Clarin._ Now or never is an apt time to move her, Madam.

_Cal._ Who's that?

_Clarin._ Your servant, I would speak with your Ladyship.

_C[al]._ Why dost thou look about?

_Clarin._ I have private business
That none must hear but your _Lisander_--

_Cal._ Where?

_Clar._ Nay, is not here, but would entreat this favour,
Some of your Balsam from your own hand given,
For he is much hurt, and that he thinks would cure him.

_Cal._ He shall have all, my Prayers too.

_Clar._ But conceive me,
It must be from your self immediately,
Pity so brave a Gentleman should perish,
He is superstitious, and he holds your hand
Of infinite power; I would not urge this, Madam,
But only in a mans extreams to help him.

_Cal._ Let him come (good wench) 'tis that I wish, I am happy in't,
My husband his true friend, my noble father,
The fair _Olinda_, all desire to see him;
He shall have many hands.

_Clar._ That he desires not,
Nor eyes but yours, to look upon his miseries,
For then he thinks 'twould be no perfect cure, Madam,
He would come private.

_Cal._ How can that be here?
I shall do wrong unto all those that honour him,
Besides my credit.

_Clar._ Dare ye not trust a hurt man?
Not strain a courtesie to save a Gentleman?
To save his life that has sav'd all your family?
A man that comes like a poor mortifi'd Pilgrim,
Only to beg a Blessing and depart again?
He would but see you, that he thinks would cure him.
But since you find fit reasons to the contrary,
And that it cannot stand with your clear honour,
Though you best know how well he has deserv'd of ye:
I'll send him word back though I grieve to do it,
Grieve at my soul, for certainly 'twill kill him,
What your will is.

_Cal._ Stay, I will think upon't; where is he, Wench?

_Clar._ If you desire to see him,
Let not that trouble you, he shall be with you,
And in that time that no man shall suspect ye;
Your honour, Madam, is in your own free keeping;
Your care in me; in him all honesty;
If ye desire him not, let him pass by ye,
And all this business reckon but a dream.

_C[a]l,_ Go in, and counsel me, I would fain see him,
And willingly comfort him.

_Clar._ 'Tis in your power;
And if you dare trust me, you shall do it safely,
Read that, and let that tell you, how he honours you.

[_Exeunt._

_Actus Tertius. Scena Prima._

_Enter_ Clarinda _with a Key, and_ Leon.

_Leon._ This happy Night. [_Kisses her._

_Clar._ Preserve this eagerness
Till we meet nearer, there is something done
Will give us opportunity.

_Leon._ Witty Girl, the plot?

_Clar._ You shall hear that at leisure,
The whole house reels with joy at the report
Of _Lidians_ safety, and that joy encreas'd
From their affection to the brave _Lisander_,
In being made the happy instrument to compound
The bloudy difference.

_Leon._ They will hear shortly that
Will turn their mirth to mourning, he was then
The principal means to save two lives, but since
There are two faln, and by his single hand,
For which his life must answer, if the King,
Whose arm is long, can reach him.

_Clar._ We have now no spare time to hear stories, take this Key,
'Twill make your passage to the banquetting house
I'th' Garden free.

_Leon._ You will not fail to come?

_Clar._ For mine own sake ne'r doubt it; now for _Lisander._

[_Exit._

_Enter_ Dorilaus, Cleander, _Servants with lights._

_Dor._ To bed, to bed, 'tis very late.

_Clean._ To bed all, I have drunk a health too much.

_Dor._ You'll sleep the better,
My usual physick that way.

_Clean._ Where's your Mistriss?

_Clar._ She is above, but very ill, and aguish;
The late fright of her Brother has much troubl'd her:
She would entreat to lye alone.

_Clean._ Her pleasure.

_Dor._ Commend my love to her, and my Prayers for her health,
I'll see her ere I go. [_Exeunt; manet_ Clarinda.

_Clar._ All good rest to ye;
Now to my watch for _Lisander_, when he is furnish'd,
For mine own friend, since I stand Centinel,
I love to laugh i'th' evenings too, and may,
The priviledg of my place will warrant it. [_Exit._

_Enter_ Lisander, _and_ Lancelot.

_Lis._ You have done well hitherto; where are we now?

_Lanc._ Not far from the house, I hear by th' Owls,
There are many of your Welch falkoners about it;
Here were a night to chuse to run away with
Another mans Wife, and do the feat.

_Lis._ Peace Knave,
The house is here before us, and some may hear us;
The Candles are all out.

_Lanc._ But one i'th' Parlour,
I see it simper hither, pray come this way.

_Lis._ Step to the Garden-door, and feel and't be open.

_Lan._ I am going, luck deliver me from the saw-pits,
Or I am buried quick; I hear a Dog,
No, 'tis a Cricket, ha? here's a Cuckold buried,
Take heed of his horns, Sir, here's the door, 'tis open.

[Clarinda _at the door._

_Clar._ Who's there?

_Lis._ Friend.

_Clar._ Sir, _Lisander_?

_Lis._ I.

_Clar._ Ye are welcome, follow me, and make no noise.

_Lis._ Go to your horse, and keep your watch with care, Sirrah,
And be sure ye sleep not.

[_Exeunt_ Lisander, Clarinda.

_Lan._ Send me out the Dairy-maid
To play at trump with me, and keep me waking,
My fellow horse and I must now discourse
Like two learned Almanack-Makers, of the Stars,
And tell what a plentiful year 'twill prove of Drunkards.
If I had but a pottle of Sack, like a sharp prickle,
To knock my Nose against when I am nodding,
I should sing like a Nightingale, but I must
Keep watch without it, I am apt to dance,
Good fortune guide me from the Faries Circles. [_Exit._

_Enter_ Clarinda _with a Taper, and_ Lisander _with a_
_Pistol, two Chairs set out._

_Clar._ Come near, [Calista _sitting behind a Curtain._
I'll leave ye now, draw but that Curtain,
And have your wish; now, _Leon_, I am for thee;
We that are servants must make use of stoln hours,
And be glad of snatch'd occasions. [_Exit._

_Lis._ She is asleep,
Fierce Love hath clos'd his lights, I may look on her,
Within her eyes 'has lockt the graces up,
I may behold and live; how sweet she breaths!
The orient morning breaking out in odours
Is not so full of perfumes, as her breath is;
She is the abstract of all Excellence, and scorns a Parallel.

_Cal._ Who's there?

_Lis._ Your servant, your most obedient slave (adored Lady)
That comes but to behold those eyes again,
And pay some Vows I have to sacred Beauty,
And so pass by; I am blind as ignorance,
And know not where I wander, how I live,
Till I receive from their bright influence
Light to direct me, for Devotions sake,
You are the Saint I tread these holy steps to,
And holy Saints are all relenting sweetness,
Be not enrag'd, nor be not angry with me;
The greatest attribute of Heaven is mercy;
And 'tis the Crown of Justice, and the glory
Where it may kill with right, to save with pity.

_Cal._ Why do you kneel? I know you come to mock me,
T'upbraid me with the benefits you have giv'n me,
Which are too many, and too mighty, Sir,
For my return; and I confess 'tis justice,
That for my cruelty you should despise me,
And I expect however you are calm now,
A foyl you strive to set your cause upon,
It will break out; _Calista_ is unworthy,
Coy, proud, disdainful, I acknowledge all,
Colder of Comfort than the frozen North is,
And more a stranger to _Lisanders_ worth,
His youth and faith, than it becomes her gratitude,
I blush to grant it, yet take this along,
A soveraign medicine to allay displeasure,
May be an argument to bring me off too;
She is married, and she is chaste; how sweet that sounds!
How it perfumes all air 'tis spoken in!
O dear _Lisander_! would you break this union?

_Lis._ No, I adore it; let me kiss your hand,
And seal the fair faith of a Gentleman on it.

_Cal._ You are truly valiant, would it not afflict ye
To have the horrid name of Coward touch you?
Such is the Whore to me.

_Lis._ I nobly thank ye;
And may I be the same when I dishonour ye;
This I may do again. [_Kissing her hand._

_Cal._ Ye may, and worthily;
Such comforts Maids may grant with modesty,
And neither make her poor nor wrong her bounty;
Noble _Lisander,_ how fond now am I of ye!
I heard you were hurt.

_Lis._ You dare not heal me, Lady?
I am hurt here; how sweetly now she blushes!
Excellent Objects kill our sight, she blinds me;
The Roses in the pride of _May_ shew pale to her;
O Tyrant, Custom! and O Coward, Honour!
How ye compel me to put on mine own Chains!
May I not kiss ye now in superstition?
For you appear a thing that I would kneel to;
Let me err that way. [_Kisses her._

_Cal._ Ye shall err for once, I have a kind of noble pity on you,
Among your manly sufferings, make this most,
To err no farther in desire, for then, Sir,
You add unto the gratitudes I owe you;
And after death, your dear friends soul shall bless you.

_Lis._ I am wondrous honest.

_Cal._ I dare try. [_Kisses._

_Lis._ I have tasted a blessedness too great for dull mortality,
Once more, and let me dye.

_Cal._ I dare not murther,
How will maids curse me if I kill with kisses!
And young men flye th' embraces of fair Virgins?
Come, pray sit down, but let's talk temperately.

_Lis._ Is my dear friend abed?

_Cal._ Yes, and asleep;
Secure asleep, 'tis midnight too, _Lisander_,
Speak not so loud.

_Lis._ You see I am a Statue,
I could not stand else as I had eaten Ice,
Or took into my bloud a drowzie Poyson,
And Natures noblest, brightest flame burns in me;
Midnight? and I stand quietly to behold it so?
The Alarm rung, and I sleep like a Coward?
I am worn away, my faith, my dull obedience
Like Crutches, carry my decayed Body
Down to the Grave, I have no youth within me,
Yet happily you love too.

_Cal._ Love with honour.

_Lis._ Honour? what's that? 'tis but a specious title
We should not prize too high.

_Cal._ Dearer than life.

_Lis._ The value of it is as time hath made it,
And time and custome have too far insulted,
We are no gods, to be always tyed to strictness,
'Tis a presumption to shew too like 'em;
March but an hour or two under Loves Ensigns,
We have Examples of great memories--

_Cal._ But foul ones too, that greatness cannot cover,
That Wife that by Example sins, sins double,
And pulls the Curtain open to her shame too;
Methinks to enjoy you thus--

_Lis._ 'Tis no joy, Lady,
A longing Bride if she stop here, would cry,
The Bridegroom too, and with just cause curse _Hymen_;
But yield a little, be one hour a Woman,
(I do not speak this to compel you, Lady)
And give your Will but motion, let it stir
But in the taste of that weak fears call evil,
Try it to understand it, we'll do nothing,
You'll ne'r come to know pure good else.

_Cal._ Fie, Sir.

_Lis._ I have found a way, let's slip into this errour
As Innocents, that know not what we did;
As we were dreaming both, let us embrace;
The sin is none of ours then, but our fancies;
What have I said? what blasphemy to honour?
O my base thoughts! pray ye take this and shoot me.
My Villain thoughts! [_Noise within._

_Cal._ I weep your miseries, and would to heaven--what noise?

_Lis._ It comes on louder.
Kill me, and save your self; save your fair honour,
And lay the fault on me, let my life perish,
My base lascivious life, shoot quickly, Lady.

_Cal._ Not for the World, retire behind the hangings,
And there stand close--my husband, close, _Lisander_.

_Enter_ Cleander _with a Taper._

_Clean._ Dearest, are you well?

_Cal._ O my sad heart, my head, my head.

_Clean._ Alas, poor soul! what do you do out of your bed?
You take cold, my _Calista_; how do ye?

_Cal._ Not so well, Sir, to lie by ye, my Brothers fright--

_Clean._ I had a frightful dream too,
A very frightful dream, my best _Calista_;
Methought there came a Dragon to your Chamber,
A furious Dragon (Wife) I yet shake at it;
Are all things well?

_Lis._ Shall I shoot him?

_Cal._ No, all well, Sir,
'Twas but your care of me, your loving care,
Which always watches.

_Clean._ And methought he came
As if he had risen thus out of his Den,
As I do from these Hangings.

_Lis._ Dead.

_Cal._ Hold, good Sir.

_Clean._ And forc'd ye in his arms thus.

_Cal._ 'Twas but fancy
That troubled ye, here's nothing to disturb me,
Good Sir, to rest again, and I am now drowzie,
And will to bed; make no noise, dear Husband,
But let me sleep; before you can call any body, I am abed.

_Clean._ This, and sweet rest dwell with ye. [_Exit._

_Cal._ Come out again, and as you love, _Lisander_,
Make haste away, you see his mind is troubled;
Do you know the door ye came in at?

_Lis._ Well, sweet Lady.

_Cal._ And can ye hit it readily?

_Lis._ I warrant ye;
And must I go? Must here end all my happiness?
Here in a dream, as if it had no substance?

_Cal._ For this time, friend, or here begin our ruins;
We are both miserable.

_Lis._ This is some comfort
In my afflictions; they are so full already,
They can find no encrease.

_Cal._ Dear, speak no more.

_Lis._ You must be silent then.

_Cal._ Farewel, _Lisander,_ thou joy of man, farewel.

_Lis._ Farewel, bright Lady,
Honour of woman-kind, a heavenly blessing.

_Cal._ Be ever honest.

_Lis._ I will be a dog else;
The vertues of your mind I'll make my Library,
In which I'll study the celestial beauty;
Your Constancy, my Armour that I'll fight in;
And on my Sword your Chastity shall sit,
Terrour to rebel bloud.

_Cal._ Once more, farewel; [_Noise within._
O that my modesty cou'd hold you still, Sir--he comes again.

_Lis._ Heaven keep my hand from murther,
Murther of him I love.

_Cal._ Away, dear friend,
Down to the Garden stairs, that way, _Lisander_,
We are betray'd else.

_Enter_ Cleander.

_Lis._ Honour guard the innocent. [_Exit_ Lisander.

_Clean._ Still up? I fear'd your health.

_Cal._ 'Has miss'd him happily;
I am going now, I have done my meditations,
My heart's almost at peace.

_Clean._ To my warm Bed then.

_Cal._ I will, pray ye lead. [_A Pistol shot within._

_Clean._ A Pistol shot i'th' house?
At these hours? sure some thief, some murtherer;
Rise, ho! rise all, I am betray'd.

_Cal._ O Fortune!
O giddy thing! he has met some opposition,
And kill'd; I am confounded, lost for ever.

_Enter_ Dorilaus.

_Dor._ Now, what's the matter?

_Clean._ Thieves, my noble Father, Villains and Rogues.

_Dor._ Indeed! I heard a Pistol, let's search about.

_Enter_ Malfort, Clarinda, _and Servants._

_Mal._ To bed again, they are gone, Sir,
I will not bid you thank my valour for't;
Gone at the Garden door; there were a dozen,
And bravely arm'd, I saw 'em.

_Clar._ I am glad, glad at the heart.

_Serv._ One shot at me, and miss'd me.

_Mal._ No, 'twas at me, the Bullet flew close by me,
Close by my ear; another had a huge Sword,
Flourish'd it thus; but at the point I met him,
But the Rogue taking me to be your Lordship,
(As sure your Name is terrible, and we
Not much unlike in the dark) roar'd out aloud,
'Tis the kill-Crow, _Dorilaus_, and away
They ran as they had flown; now you must love me,
Or fear me for my Courage, Wench.

_Clar._ O Rogue!
O lying Rogue, _Lisander_ stumbled, Madam,
At the Stairs-head, and in the fall the shot went off;
Was gone before they rose.

_Cal._ I thank Heaven for't.

_Clar._ I was frighted too, it spoil'd my game with _Leon_.

_Cle._ You must sit up; and they had come to your Chamber
What pranks would they have plaid! how came the door open?

_Ma._ I heard 'em when they forc'd it; up I rose,
Took _Durindana_ in my hand; and like
_Orlando_, issu'd forth.

_Clar._ I know you are valiant.

_Clean._ To bed again,
And be you henceforth provident, at sun-rising
We must part for a while.

_Dor._ When you are a bed,
Take leave of her, there 'twill be worth the taking;
Here 'tis but a cold Ceremony, ere long
We'll find _Lisander,_ or we have ill-fortune.

_Clean._ Lock all the doors fast.

_Mal._ Though they all stood open,
My name writ on the door, they dare not enter. [_Exeunt._

_Enter_ Clarange, _Fryar with a letter._

_Clar._ Turn'd Hermit?

_Fry._ Yes, and a devout one too; I heard him preach.

_Clar._ That lessens my belief,
For though I grant my _Lidian_ a Scholar,
As far as fits a Gentleman, he hath studied
Humanity, and in that he is a Master;
Civility of manners, Courtship, Arms;
But never aim'd at (as I could perceive)
The deep points of Divinity.

_Fry._ That confirms his
Devotion to be real, no way tainted
With ostentation, or hyp[ocr]isie,
The cankers of Religion; his Sermon
So full of gravity, and with such sweetness
Deliver'd, that it drew the admiration
Of all the hearers on him; his own Letters
To you, which witness he will leave the World,
And these to fair _Olinda_, his late Mistriss,
In which he hath with all the moving language
That ever express'd Rhetorick, solicited
The Lady to forget him, and make you
Blessed in her embraces, may remove
All scrupulous doubts.

_Clar._ It strikes a sadness in me.
I know not what to think of 't.

_Fry._ Ere he entred
His solitary Cell, he pen'd a Ditty,
His long, and last farewel to Love and Women,
So feelingly, that I confess however
It stands not with my order to be taken
With such poetical Raptures; I was mov'd,
And strangely with it.

_Clar._ Have you the Copy?

_Fry._ Yes, Sir;
My Novice too can sing it, if you please
To give him hearing.

_Clar._ And it will come timely,
For I am full of melancholy thoughts,
Against which I have heard with reason Musick
To be the speediest cure, 'pray you apply it.

A Song by the Novice.

_Adieu fond love, farewel you wanton powers,_
_I am free again;_
_Thou dull Disease of bloud, and idle hours;_
_Bewitching pain,_
_Flye to the Fools that sigh away their time,_
_My nobler love to Heaven doth climb,_
_And there behold Beauty still young,_
_That Time can ne'r corrupt, nor Death destroy;_
_Immortal sweetness by fair Angels sung,_
_And honour'd by Eternity and Joy:_
_There lives my love, thither my hopes aspire,_
_Fond love declines, this heavenly [love] grows higher._

_Fri._ How do ye approve it?

_Clar._ To its due desert,
It is a Heavenly Hymn, no ditty Father,
It passes through my ears unto my soul,
And works divinely on it; give me leave
A little to consider; shall I be
Outdone in all things? nor good of my self,
Nor by example? shall my loose hope still,
The viands of a fond affection, feed me
As I were a sensual beast? spiritual food
Refus'd by my sick palat? 'tis resolv'd.
How far off Father, doth this new made Hermit
Make his abode?

_Fri._ Some two dayes journey Son.

_Clar._ Having reveal'd my fair intentions to ye,
I hope your piety will not deny me
Your aids to further 'em?

_Fri._ That were against a good mans charity.

_Clar._ My first request is,
You would some time, for reasons I will shew you,
Defer delivery of _Lidians_ Letters
To fair _Olinda_.

_Fri._ Well Sir.

_Clar._ For what follows,
You shall direct me; something I will do,
A new born zeal, and friendship prompts me to. [_Ex._

_Enter_ Dorilaus, Cleander, Chamberlain, _Table,_
_Tapers, and three stools._

_Clea._ We have supp'd well friend; let our beds be ready,
We must be stirring early.

_Cham._ They are made Sir.

_Dor._ I cannot sleep yet, where's the jovial host
You told me of? 'thas been my custom ever
To parley with mine host.

_Clea._ He's a good fellow,
And such a one I know you love to laugh with;
Go call your Master up.

_Cham._ He cannot come Sir.

_Dor._ Is he a bed with his wife?

_Cham._ No certainly.

_Dor._ Or with some other guests?

_Cham._ Neither and't like ye.

_Clea._ Why then he shall come by your leave my friend,
I'le fetch him up my self.

_Cham._ Indeed you'l fail Sir.

_Dor._ Is he i'th' house?

_Cham._ No, but he is hard by Sir;
He is fast in's grave, he has been dead these three weeks.

_Dor._ Then o' my conscience he will come but lamely,
And discourse worse.

_Clean._ Farewel mine honest Host then,
Mine honest merry Host; will you to bed yet?

_Dor._ No, not this hour, I prethee sit and chat by me.

_Clean._ Give us a quart of wine then, we'l be merry.

_Dor._ A match my Son; pray let your wine be living,
Or lay it by your Master.

_Cham._ It shall be quick Sir. [_Exit._

_Dor._ Has not mine Host a wife?

[_Clean._] A good old woman.

_Dor._ Another coffin, that is not so handsom;
Your Hostesses in Innes should be blith things,
Pretty, and young to draw in passengers;
She'l never fill her beds well, if she be not beauteous.

_Clean._ And courteous too.

_Enter_ Chamberlain, _with wine._

_Dor._ I, I, and a good fellow,
That will mistake sometimes a Gentleman
For her good man; well done; here's to _Lisander_.

_Clean._ My full love meets it; make fire in our lodgings,
We'l trouble thee no farther; to your Son. [_Ex._ Cham.

_Dor._ Put in _Clarange_ too; off with't, I thank ye;
This wine drinks merrier still, O for mine Host now,
Were he alive again, and well dispos'd,
I would so claw his pate.

_Clean._ Y'are a hard drinker.

_Dor._ I love to make mine Host drunk, he will lye then
The rarest, and the roundest, of his friends,
His quarrels, and his guests, and they are the best bauds too,
Take 'em in that tune.

_Clean._ You know all.

_Dor._ I did Son, but time, and arms have worn me out.

_Clea._ 'Tis late Sir, I hear none stirring. [_A lute is struck._

_Dor._ Hark, what's that, a Lute?
'Tis at the door I think.

_Clean._ The doors are shut fast.

_Dor._ 'Tis morning sure, the Fiddlers are got up
To fright mens sleeps, have we ne're a pispot ready?

_Clean._ Now I remember, I have heard mine Host that's dead
Touch a lute rarely, and as rarely sing too,
A brave still mean.

_Dor._ I would give a brace of _French_ Crowns
To see him rise and Fiddle--Hark, a Song.

A SONG.

_'Tis late and cold, stir up the fire;_
_Sit close, and draw the Table nigher;_
_Be merry, and drink wine that's old,_
_A hearty medicine 'gainst a cold._
_Your bed of wanton down's the best,_
_Where you shall tumble to your rest;_
_I could wish you wenches too,_
_But I am dead and cannot do;_
_Call for the best the house may ring,_
_Sack, White, and Claret let them bring,_
_And drink apace while breath you have,_
_You'l find but cold drink in the grave;_
_Plover, Partridge for your dinner,_
_And a Capon for the sinner,_
_You shall find ready when you are up,_
_And your horse shall have his sup:_
_Welcom welcom shall flye round,_
_And I shall smile though under ground._

_Clean._ Now as I live, it is his voice.

_Dor._ He sings well, the Devil has a pleasant pipe.

_Clean._ The fellow lyed sure.

_Enter_ Host.

He is not dead, he's here: how pale he looks!

_Dor._ Is this he?

_Clean._ Yes.

_Host._ You are welcom noble Gentlemen,
My brave old guest most welcom.

_Clean._ Lying knaves,
To tell us you were dead, come sit down by us,
We thank ye for your Song.

_Host._ Would 't had been better.

_Dor._ Speak, are ye dead?

_Host._ Yes indeed am I Gentlemen,
I have been dead these three weeks.

_Dor._ Then here's to ye, to comfort your cold body.

_Clean._ What do ye mean? stand further off.

_Dor._ I will stand nearer to him,
Shall he come out on's coffin to bear us company,
And we not bid him welcom? come mine Host,
Mine honest Host, here's to ye.

_Host._ Spirits Sir, drink not.

_Clea._ Why do ye appear?

_Host._ To wait upon ye Gentlemen,
'Thas been my duty living, now my farewel;
I fear ye are not us'd accordingly.

_Dor._ I could wish you warmer company mine Host,
How ever we are us'd.

_Host._ Next to entreat a courtesie,
And then I go to peace.

_Clea._ Is't in our power?

_Host._ Yes and 'tis this, to see my body buried
In holy ground, for now I lye unhallowed,
By the clarks fault; let my new grave be made
Amongst good fellows, that have died before me,
And merry Hostes of my kind.

_Clea._ It shall be done.

_Dor._ And forty stoops of wine drank at thy funeral.

_Clea._ Do you know our travel?

_Host._ Yes, to seek your friends,
That in afflictions wander now.

_Clean._ Alas!

_Host._ Seek 'em no farther, but be confident
They shall return in peace.

_Dor._ There's comfort yet.

_Clea._ Pray ye one word more, is't in your power mine Host,
Answer me softly, some hours before my death,
To give me warning?

_Host._ I cannot tell ye truly,
But if I can, so much alive I lov'd ye,
I will appear again, adieu. [_Exit._

_Dor._ Adieu, Sir.

_Cle._ I am troubl'd; these strange apparitions are
For the most part fatal.

_Dor._ This if told, will not
Find credit, the light breaks apace, let's lie down
And take some little rest, an hour or two,
Then do mine host's desire, and so return,
I do believe him.

_Clean._ So do I, to rest, Sir. [_Exeunt._

_Enter_ Calista, _and_ Clarinda.

_Cal. Clarinda?_

_Clarin._ Madam.

_Cal._ Is the house well ordered?
The doors look'd to now in your Masters absence?
Your care, and diligence amongst the Servants?

_Clarin._ I am stirring, Madam.

_Cal._ So thou art, _Clarinda_,
More than thou ought'st I am sure, why dost thou blush?

_Clarin._ I do not blush.

_Cal._ Why dost thou hang thy head wench?

_Clarin._ Madam, ye are deceiv'd, I look upright,
I understand ye not: she has spied _Leon_, [_Aside._
Shame of his want of caution.

_Cal._ Look on me; what, blush again?

_Clarin._ 'Tis more than I know, Madam;
I have no cause that I find yet.

_Cal._ Examine then.

_Clarin._ Your Ladyship is set I think to shame me.

_Cal._ Do not deserv't, who lay with you last night?
What bed-fellow had ye? none of the maids came near ye.

_Clarin._ Madam, they did.

_Cal._ 'Twas one in your Cousins cloaths then,
And wore a sword; and sure I keep no _Amazons_;
Wench do not lye, 'twill but proclaim thee guilty;
Lyes hide our sins like nets; like perspectives,
They draw offences nearer still, and greater:
Come, tell the truth.

_Clarin._ You are the strangest Lady
To have these doubts of me; how have I liv'd, Madam?
And which of all my careful services deserves these shames?

_Cal._ Leave facing, 'twill not serve ye,
This impudence becomes thee worse than lying.
I thought ye had liv'd well, and I was proud of't;
But you are pleas'd to abuse my thoughts; who was't?
Honest repentance yet will make the fault less.

_Clarin._ Do ye compel me? do you stand so strict too?
Nay, then have at ye; I shall rub that sore, Madam,
(Since ye provoke me) will but vex your Ladyship;
Let me alone.

_Cal._ I will know.

_Clarin._ For your own peace,
The peace of your own conscience ask no farther;
Walk in, and let me alone.

_Cal._ No, I will know all.

_Clar._ Why, then I'le tell ye, 'twas a man I lay with,
Never admire, 'tis easie to be done, Madam,
And usual too, a proper man I lay with;
Why should you vex at that? young as _Lisander_,
And able too; I grudge not at your pleasure,
Why should you stir at mine? I steal none from ye.

_Cal._ And dost thou glory in this sin?

_Cla._ I am glad on't, to glory in't is for a mighty Lady
That may command.

_Cal._ Why didst thou name _Lisander_?

_Clari._ Does it anger ye? does it a little gall ye?
I know it does, why would ye urge me Lady?
Why would ye be so curious to compel me?
I nam'd _Lisander_ as my president,
The rule I err'd by, you love him, I know it,
I grudg'd not at it, but am pleas'd it is so;
And by my care and diligence you enjoy'd him,
Shall I for keeping counsel, have no comfort?
Will you have all your self? ingross all pleasure
Are ye so hard hearted? why do ye blush now, Madam?

_Cal._ My anger blushes, not my shame, base woman.

_Clari._ I'le make your shame blush, since you put me to't.
Who lay with you t'other night?

_Cal._ With me? ye monster.

_Clari._ Whose sweet embraces circled ye? not your husbands;
I wonder ye dare touch me in this point, Madam?
Stir her against ye in whose hand your life lies?
More than your life, your honour? what smug _Amazon_
Was that I brought you? that maid had ne're a petticoat?

_Cal._ She'l half perswade me anon, I am a beast too,
And I mistrust my self, though I am honest
For giving her the Helm, thou knowest, _Clarinda_,
(Ev'n in thy conscience) I was ever vertuous;
As far from lust in meeting with _Lisander_,
As the pure wind in welcoming the morning;
In all the co[n]versation I had with him,
As free, and innocent, as yon fair Heaven;
Didst not thou perswade me too?

_Clarin._ Yes, I had reason for't,
And now you are perswaded I'le make use on't.

_Cal._ If I had sin'd thus, and my youth entic'd me,
The nobleness and beauty of his person,
Beside the mighty benefits I am bound to,
Is this sufficient warrant for thy weakness?
If I had been a whore, and crav'd thy counsel
In the conveyance of my fault and faithfulness,
Thy secrecie, and truth in hiding of it;
Is it thy justice to repay me thus?
To be the Master sinner to compel me?
And build thy lusts security on mine honour?