Chapter VI: Part 6

_Clar._ Look on thy rival, your late servant, Madam,
But now devoted to a better Mistris,
The Church, whose orders I have took upon me:
I here deliver up my interest to her;
And what was got with cunning as you thought,
I simply thus surrender: heretofore,
You did outstrip me in the race of friendship,
I am your equal now.

_Dor._ A suit soon ended.

_Clar._ And joyning thus your hands, I know both willing,
I may do in the Church my _Friers_ Office
In marrying you.

_Lid._ The victory is yours, Sir.

_King._ It is a glorious one, and well sets of[f]
Our Scene of mercy; to the dead we tender
Our sorrow, to the living ample wishes
Of future happiness: 'tis a Kings duty
To prove himself a Father to his subjects:
And I shall hold it if this well succeed,
A meritorious, and praise worthy deed. [_Exeunt._

Prologue.

_A Story, and a known one, long since writ,_
_Truth must take place, and by an able wit,_
_Foul mouth'd detraction daring not deny_
_To give so much to_ Fletcher's _memory;_
_If so, some may object, why then do you_
_Present an old piece to us for a new?_
_Or wherefore will your profest Writer be_
_(Not tax'd of theft before) a Plagiary?_
_To this he answers in his just defence,_
_And to maintain to all our Innocence,_
_Thus much, though he hath travell'd the same way,_
_Demanding, and receiving too the pay_
_For a new Poem, you may find it due,_
_He having neither cheated us, nor you;_
_He vowes, and deeply, that he did no[t] spare_
_The utmost of his strengths, and his best care_
_In the reviving it, and though his powers_
_Could not as he desired, in three short hours_
_Contract the Subject, and much less express_
_The changes, and the various passages_
_That will be look'd for, you may hear this day_
_Some Scenes that will confirm it is a play,_
_He being ambitious that it should be known_
_What's good was_ Fletcher's, _and what ill his own._

* * * * *

Epilogue.

<i>Still doubtfull, and perplex'd too, whether he</i>
<i>Hath done</i> Fletcher <i>right in this Historie,</i>
<i>The Poet sits within, since he must know it,</i>
<i>He with respect desires that you would shew it</i>
<i>By some accustomed sign, if from our action,</i>
<i>Or his indeavours you meet satisfaction,</i>
<i>With ours he hath his ends, we hope the best,</i>
<i>To make that certainty in you doth rest.</i>

THE PILGRIM. A COMEDY.

* * * * *

Persons Represented in the Play.

_Governour, of_ Segovia.

Verdugo, _a Captain under him._

Alphonso, _an old angry Gentleman._

Curio, } _two Gentlemen, friends to_ Alphonso.
Seberto,}

Pedro, _the Pilgrim, a noble Gentleman, Servant to_ Alinda.

_An old Pilgrim._

Lopes, } _two Out-laws under_ Roderigo.
Jaques,}

Roderigo, _rival to_ Pedro, _Captain of the Out-laws._

_A Gentleman, of the Country._

_Courtiers._

_Porter._

_Master &_} _of the Mad folks._
_Keepers,_}

_3 Gentlemen._

_4 Peasants._

_A Scholar,_ }
_A Parson,_ } _Madmen._
_An English-man,_}
_Jenkin,_ }

_Fool._

_WOMEN._

Alinda, _Daughter to_ Alphonso, Pedro's _Lady._

Juletta, Alinda's _Maid, a witty Lass._

_Ladies._

* * * * *

_The Scene_ Spain.

* * * * *

The principal Actors were,

_Joseph Taylor._
_Nicholas Toolie._
_Robert Benfield._
_John Thompson._
_John Lowin._
_John Underwood._
_George Birch._
_James Horn._

_Actus Primus. Scena Prima._

_Enter_ Alphonso, Curio, _and_ Seberto.

_Curio_ Signior _Alphonso_, ye are too rugged to her,
Believe too full of harshness.

_Alph._ Yes, it seems so.

_Seb._ A Father of so sweet a child, so happy,
Fye, Sir, so excellent in all endowments,
In blessedness of beauty, such a mirror.

_Alph._ She is a fool, away.

_Seb._ Can ye be angry?
Can any wind blow rough, upon a blossom
So fair, and tender? Can a Fathers nature,
A noble Fathers too?

_Alp._ All this is but prating:
Let her be rul'd; let her observe my humour,
With my eyes let her see; with my ears listen;
I am her Father: I begot her, bred her,
And I will make her--

_Cur._ No doubt ye may compel her,
But what a mischievous, unhappy fortune
May wait upon this will of yours, as commonly
Such forcings ever end in hates and ruines.

_Alph._ Is't not a man I wish her to? a strong man?
What can she have? what could she have? a Gentleman?
A young man? and an able man? a rich man?
A handsome man? a valiant man? do you mark me?
None of your pieced-companions, your pin'd-Gallants,
That flie to fitters, with every flaw of weather:
None of your impt bravadoes: what can she ask more?
Is not a metal'd man fit for a woman?
A strong chin'd-man? I'le not be fool'd, nor flurted.

_Seb._ I grant ye _Roderigo_ is all these,
And a brave Gentleman: must it therefore follow
Upon necessity she must doat upon him?
Will ye allow no liberty in choosing?

_Cur._ Alas she is tender yet.

_Alp._ Enough, enough, enough, Sir:
She is malleable: she'll endure the hammer,
And why not that strong workman that strikes deepest?
Let me know that! she is fifteen, with the vantage,
And if she be not ready now for marriage--

_Seb._ You know he is a banish'd man: an Out-law;
And how he lives: his nature rough, and bloody
By customary Rapines: now, her sweet humour
That is as easie as a calm, and peaceful,
All her affections, like the dews on Roses,
Fair as the flowers themselves: as sweet and gentle:
How would you have these meet?

_Alp._ A bed, a bed, Sir:
Let her be the fairest Rose, and the sweetest,
Yet I know this fair Rose must have her prickles:
I grant ye _Roderigo_ is an out-Law.
An easie composition calls him in again,
He is a valiant man, and he is a rich man,
And loves the fool: a little rough by custom:
She'l like him ten times better. She'l doat upon him,
If ere they come to grapling, run mad for him;
But there is another in the wind, some Castrel
That hovers over her, and dares her daily,
Some flickring slave.

_Cur._ I dare not think so poorly.

_Alp._ Something there is, and must be: but I shall scent it
And hunt it narrowly.

_Seb._ I never saw her yet
Make offer at the least glance of affection,
But still so modest, wise--

_Alp._ They are wise to gull us.
There was a fellow, old _Ferando_'s son,
I must confess handsome, but my enemy,
And the whole family I hate: young _Pedro_,
That fellow I have seen her gaze upon,
And turn, and gaze again, and make such offers,
As if she would shoot her eyes like Meteors at him:
But that cause stands removed.

_Cur._ You need not doubt him,
For long since as 'twas thought on a griev'd Conscience,
He left his Father, and his Friends: more pity:
For truth reports he was a noble Gentleman.

_Alp._ Let him be what he will: he was a beggar,
And there I'le leave him.

_Seb._ The more the Court must answer;
But certainly I think, though she might favour him,
And love his goodness, as he was an honest man:
She never with loose eyes stuck on his person.

_Alp._ She is so full of Conscience too, and charity,
And outward holiness, she will undo me:
Relieves more Beggars, than an Hospital;

_Enter_ Alinda, _and_ Juletta.

And all poor Rogues, that can but say their prayers,
And tune their pipes to Lamentations,
She thinks she is bound to dance to: good morrow to you,
And that's as ye deserve too: you know my mind,
And study to observe it: do it cheerfully,
And readily, and home.

_Alin._ I shall obey ye.
But, noble Sir.

_Alp._ Come, come, away with your flatteries,
And your fine phrases.

_Cur._ Pray ye be gentle to her.

_Alp._ I know 'em; and know your feats: if you will find me
Noble and loving, seek me in your duty,
You know I am too indulgent.

_Seb._ Alas, poor Lady.

_Alp._ To your devotions: I take no good thing from you.
Come Gentlemen; leave pitying, and moaning of her
And praising of her vertues: and her whim-whams,
It makes her proud, and sturdy.

_Seb. Cur._ Good hours wait on ye. [_Exeunt._

_Alin._ I thank ye, Gentlemen: I want such comforts:
I would thank you too Father: but your cruelty
Hath almost made me senseless of my duty,
Yet still I must know: would I had known nothing.
What Poor attend my charity to day, wench?

_Jul._ Of all sorts, Madam; your open handed bounty
Make's 'em flock every hour: some worth your pity,
But others that have made a trade of begging.

_Alin._ Wench, if they ask it truly, I must give it:
It takes away the holy use of charity
To examine wants.

_Jul._ I would you would be merry:
A cheerful giving hand, as I think, Madam,
Requires a heart as chearful.

_Alin._ Alas _Juletta,_
What is there to be merry at? what joy now,
Unless we fool our own afflictions,
And make them shew ridiculous?

_Jul._ Sure, Madam,
You could not seem thus serious, if you were married,
Thus sad, and full of thoughts.

_Alin._ Married? to whom, wench?
Thou thinkst if there be a young handsome fellow,
As those are plentiful, our cares are quenched then.

_Jul._ Madam, I think a lusty handsome fellow
If he be kind, and loving, and a right one,
Is even as good a Pill, to purge this melancholy,
As ever _Galen_ gave, I am sure more natural:
And merrier for the heart, than Wine and Saffron:
Madam, wanton youth is such a Cataplasme.

_Alin._ Who has been thy Tutor, Wench?

_Jul._ Even my own thoughts, Lady:
For though I be bar'd the liberty of talking,
Yet I can think unhappily, and as near the mark, Madam,
'Faith, marry, and be merry.

_Alin._ Who will have me?
Who will be troubled with a pettish Girl?
It may be proud, and to that vice expenceful?
Who can assure himself, I shall live honest?

_Jul._ Let every man take his fortune.

_Alin._ And o' my Conscience
If once I grow to breeding, a whole Kingdom
Will not contain my stock.

_Jul._ The more the merrier:
'Tis brave to be a mother of new Nations.

_Alin._ Why, I should bury a hundred Husbands.

_Jul._ 'Tis no matter!
As long as ye leave sufficient men to stock ye.

_Alin._ Is this thy mirth? are these the joyes of marriage?
Away light-headed fool; are these contentments?
If I could find a man--

_Jul._ You may a thousand.

_Alin._ Meer men I know I may: and there a Woman
Has liberty, (at least she'l venture for it)
To be a monster and become the time too;
But to enjoy a man, from whose example
(As from a compass) we may steer our fortunes,
Our actions, and our age; and safe arrive at
A memory that shall become our ashes,
Such things are few, and far to seek; to find one
That can but rightly mannage the wild beast, Woman,
And sweetly govern with her. But no more of this, Wench,
'Tis not for thy discourse: Let's in, and see
What poor afflicted wait our charity. [_Exeunt._

SCENE II.

_Enter a Porter, 4 Beggers_, Pedro, _and a Pilgrim_.

_Por._ Stand off, and keep your ranks: twenty foot further:
There louse your selves with reason and discretion.
The Sun shines warm: the farther still the better,
Your beasts will bolt anon, and then 'tis dangerous.

_1 Beg._ Heaven bless our Mistris.

_Por._ Does the crack go that way?
'Twill be o'th' other side anon.

_2 Beg._ Pray ye friend.

_Por._ Your friend? and why your friend? why goodman turncoat
What dost thou see within me, or without me,
Or what itch dost thou know upon me, tell me,
That I should be thy friend? what do I look like
Any of thy acquaintance hung in Gibbets?
Hast thou any Friends, Kindred, or Alliance,
Or any higher ambition, than an Alms-basket?

_2 Beg._ I would be your worships friend.

_Por._ So ye shall, Sirrah,
When I quarter the same louse with ye.

_3 Beg._ 'Tis twelve o'clock.

_Por._ 'Tis ever so with thee, when thou hast done scratching,
For that provokes thy stomach to ring noon;
O the infinite Seas of Porridge thou hast swallow'd!
And yet thou lookst as if they had been but Glysters;
Thou feedst abundance, thou hadst need of sustenance;
Alms do you call it to relieve these Rascals?

_Enter_ Alphonso, Curio, _and_ Seberto.

Nothing but a general rot of sheep can satisfie 'em.

_Alp._ Did not I tell you, how she would undo me?
What Marts of Rogues, and Beggers!

_Seb._ 'Tis charity
Methinks, you are bound to love her for--

_Alp._ Yes, I warrant ye,
If men could sale to Heaven in Porridge-pots,
With masts of Beef, and Mutton, what a Voyage should I make!
What are all these?

_1 Beg._ Poor people, and 't like your worship.

_[2] Beg._ Wretched poor people.

_3 Beg._ Very hungry people.

_Alp._ And very Lousy.

_4 Beg._ Yes forsooth, so, so.

_Por._ I'le undertake five hundred head about 'em,
And that's no needy Grasier.

_Alp._ What are you?

_Pil._ Strangers that come to wonder at your charity,
Yet people poor enough to beg a blessing.

_Cur._ Use them with favour, Sir, their shews are reverent,
It seems ye are holy _Pilgrims_?

_Pil._ Ye guess right, Sir,
And bound far off, to offer our devotions.

_Alp._ What make ye this way? we keep no Reliques here,
Nor holy Shrines.

_Pil._ The holiest we ere heard of;
Ye keep a living monument of goodness,
A Daughter of that pious excellence,
The very Shrines of Saints sink at her vertues,
And swear they cannot hold pace with her pieties,
We come to see this Lady: not with prophane eyes,
Nor wanton bloods, to doat upon her beauties,
But through our tedious wayes to beg her blessings.

_Alp._ This is a new way of begging, and a neat one,
And this cries mony for reward, good store too;
These commendations beg not with bag, and bottle;
Well, well, the Sainting of this Woman, Gentlemen,
I know what it must come to: these Women Saints
Are plaguy heavy Saints: they out-weigh a he-saint
Three thousand thick; I know: I feel.

_Seb._ Ye are more afraid than hurt, Sir.

_Alp._ Have you your commendations ready too?
He bows, and nods.

_Cur._ A handsome well built person.

_Alp._ What Country-craver are you? nothing but motion?
A puppet-Pilgrim?

_Pil._ He's a stranger, Sir;
This four days I have Travel'd in his Company,
But little of his business, or his Language
As yet I have understood.

_Seb._ Both young and handsome,
Only the Sun has been too saucy with him.

_Alp._ Would ye have mony, Sir, or meat? what kind of blessing
Does your devotion look for? Still more ducking?
Be there any Saints, that understand by signs only?
More motion yet? this is the prettiest Pilgrim,
The pink of Pilgrims: I'le be for ye, Sir;
Do ye discourse with signs? ye are heartily welcome:
A poor viaticum; very good gold, Sir:
But holy men affect a better treasure.
I kept it for your goodness, but ne'rtheless
Since it can prove but burthensome to your holiness,
And that you affect light prayer, fit for carriage,
I'le put this up again.

_Cur._ Ye are too unreverent.

_Alp._ Ye talk too broad! must I give way, and wealth too
To every toy, that carries a grave seeming?
Must my good Angels wait on him? if the proud hilding
Would yield but to my will, and know her duty
I know what I would suffer.

_Seb._ Good Sir, be patient,
The wrongs ye do these men, may light on you,
Too heavy too: and then you will wish you had said less;
A comely and sweet usage becomes strangers.

_Alp._ We shall have half the Kingdom strangers shortly,
And this fond prodigality be suffer'd;
But I must be an Ass, see 'em relieved, sirrah;
If I were young again, I would sooner get Bear-whelps,
And safer too, than any of these she-saints,
But I will break her.

_Cur._ Such a face for certain.

_Seb._ Me thinks I have seen it too: but we are cozen'd;
But fair befal thee Pilgrim, thou lookst lovely. [_Exit._

_Por._ Will ye troop up, ye Porridge Regiment?

_Enter_ Alinda, _and_ Juletta.

Captain Poors quarter will ye move?

_Alin._ Ye dull Knave,
Are not these wretches served yet?

_Beg._ 'Bless my Mistris.

_Alin._ Do you make sport, Sir, with their miseries?
Ye drousie Rogue.

_Por._ They are too high fed, Madam,
Their stomachs are a sleep yet.

_Alin._ Serve 'em plentifully,
Or I'le serve you out next: even out o' doors, sirrah;
And serve 'em quickly too.

_Beg._ Heaven bless the Lady.

_Alin._ Bless the good end I mean it for.

_Jul._ I would I knew it:
If it be for any mans sake, I'le cry Amen too.
Well, Madam, ye have even as pretty a port of Pensioners.

_Alin._ Vain-glory would seek more, and handsomer.
But I appeal to vertue what my end is; [_Ex. Beggers._
What men are these?

_Jul._ It seems they are holy Pilgrims:
That handsome youth should suffer such a penance,
Would I were even the Saint they make their vowes to,
How easily I would grant!

_Pil._ Heavens grace in-wheel ye:
And all good thoughts, and prayers dwell about ye,
Abundance be your friend; and holy charity
Be ever at your hand to crown ye glorious.

_Alin._ I thank ye, Sir; peace guide your travels too,
And what you wish for most, end all your troubles;
Remember me by this: and in your prayers
When your strong heart melts, meditate my poor fortunes.

_Pil._ All my Devotions wait upon your service.

_Alin._ Are you of this Country, Sir?

_Pil._ Yes, worthiest Lady,
But far off bred; my Fortunes farther from me.

_Alin._ Gentle, I dare believe.

_Pil._ I have liv'd freer.

_Alin._ I am no inquisitor, that were too curious;
Whatever Vow, or Penance pulls you on, Sir;
Conscience, or Love, or stubborn Disobedience,
The Saint ye kneel to, hear, and ease your travels.

_Pil._ Yours ne'r begin; and thus I seal my Prayers. [_Exit._

_Alin._ How constantly this man looks! how he sighs!
Some great affliction hatches his Devotions,
Right holy Sir, how young, and sweet he suffers!

_Jul._ Would I might suffer with him.

_Alin._ He turns from us;
Alas, he weeps too; something presses him
He would reveal, but dare not; Sir, be comforted,
Ye come for that; and take it; if it be want, Sir,
To me ye appear so worthy of relieving,
I am your Steward; Speak, and take; he's dumb still;
Now as I have a faith, this man so stirs me,
His modesty makes me afraid I have trespassed.

_Jul._ Would he wou'd stir me too, I like his shape well.

_Alin._ May be he would speak alone; go off, _Juletta_,
Afflicted hearts fear their own motions.
Be not far off.

_Jul._ Would I were nearer to him,
A young smug handsom holiness has no fellow. [_Exit._

_Al._ Why do you grieve? do you find your penance sharp?
Or are the vows ye've made too mighty for ye?
Does not the World allure ye to look back,
And sorrow for the sweet time ye have lost?
Ye are young, and fair; be not deluded, Sir,
A manly made-up heart contemns these shadows,
And yours appear no less, griefs for your fears,
For hours ill-spent, for wrongs done rash, and rudely,
For foul contempts, for faiths ill violated,
Become fears well; I dare not task your goodness;
And then a sorrow shews in his true glory,
When the whole heart is excellently sorry,
I pray ye be comforted.

_Ped._ I am, dear Lady,
And such a comfort ye have cast upon me,
That though I struggle with mine own cal[a]mities
Too mighty, and too many for my mannage,
And though, like angry waves, they curl'd upon me,
Contending proudly who should first devour me,
Yet I would stem their danger.

_Alin._ He speaks nobly;
What do you want?

_Ped._ All that can make me happy;
I want my self.

_Alin._ Your self? who rob'd ye, Pilgrim?
Why does he look so constantly upon me?
_I want my self_; indeed, ye holy Wanderers
Are said to seek much, but to seek your selves--

_Ped._ I seek my self, and am but my selfs shadow,
'Have lost my self; and now am not so noble.

_Alin. I seek my self_; something I yet remember
That bears that Motto; 'tis not he, he's younger,
And far more tender; for that self-sake (Pilgrim)
Be who it will, take this.

_Ped._ Your hand I dare take,
That be far from me, Lady, thus I kiss it,
And thus I bless it too; _Be constant fair still,_
_Be good,_ and live to be a great example. [_Exit._

_Alin._ One word more (Pilgrim) has amaz'd me strangly,
_Be constant fair still_; 'tis the Posie here;
And here without, _Be good_; he wept to see me. _Juletta._

_Enter_ Juletta.

_Jul._ Madam.

_Alin._ Take this Key, and fetch me
The marygold-Jewel that lies in my little Cabinet;
I think 'tis that; what eyes had I to miss him? [_Ex._ Jul.
O me, what thoughts? he had no beard then, and
As I remember well, he was more ruddy.

_Enter_ Juletta.

If this be he, he has a manly face yet,
A goodly shape.

_Jul._ Here Madam.

_Alin._ Let me see it;
'Tis so true, it must be he, or nothing,
He spake the words just as they stand engraven here:
I seek my self, and am but my selfs shadow;
Alas, poor man! didst thou not meet him, _Juletta_?
The Pilgrim, Wench?

_Jul._ He went by long ago, Madam.

_Alin._ I forgot to give him something.

_Jul._ 'Twas ill done, Lady;
For o' my troth, he is the handsomest man
I saw this many a day; would he had all my wealth,
And me to boot; what ails she to grow so sullen?

_Alin._ Come, I forgot, but I will recompence it. [_Exeunt._

_Actus Secundus. Scena Prima._

_Enter_ Alphonso, Curio, Seberto, Juletta, _Porter, and_
_Servants._

_Alph._ Can she slip through a Cat-hole? tell me that; resolve me;
Can she flye in the air? is she a thing invisible?
Gone, and none know it!

_Seb._ You amaze your servants.

_Alph._ Some pelting Rogue has watcht her hour of itching,
And claw'd her, claw'd her, do you mark me? claw'd her;
Some that I foster up.

_Cur._ They are all here, Sir.

_Alph._ Let 'em be where they will, they are arrant Rascals,
And by this hand, I'll hang all.

_Seb._ Deal calmly;
You will not give 'em time to answer ye.

_Al._ I'll choak 'em, famish 'em, what say you, Wagtail?
You knew her mind; you were of counsel with her,
Tell me, and tell me true.

_Cur._ Ask with discretion.

_Alph._ Discretion? hang discretion, hang ye all:
Let me know where she is.

_Jul._ Would you know o' me, Sir?

_Al._ O' thee, Sir? I, o' thee, Sir; what art thou Sir?

_Jul._ Her woman, Sir, and't like your Worship, Sir.

_Alph._ Her Bawd, her Fiddle-stick;
Her Lady-fairy, to oyl the doors o' nights,
That they may open with discretion,
Her Gin, her Nut-Crack.

_Jul._ 'Tis very well, Sir.

_Alph._ Thou lyest; 'tis damnable ill, 'tis most abominable;
Will ye confess (Thing?)

_Jul._ Say I were guilty, Sir;
I would be hang'd before I would confess;
Is this a World to confess in?

_Cur._ Deal directly.

_Jul._ Yes, if my matter lye direct before me;
But when I am forc'd, and ferretted.

_Alph._ Tell me the truth,
And as I live, I'll give thee a new Petticoat.

_Jul._ And you would give me ten, I would not tell ye,
Truths bear a greater price than you are aware of.

_Seb._ Deal modestly.

_Jul._ I do not pluck my Cloaths up.

_Al._ What say you, Sirrah? you? or you? are ye dumb all?

_Port._ I saw her last night, and't shall like your Worship,
When I serv'd in her Livery.

_Alph._ What's that, Sirrah?

_Port._ Her Chamber-pot, and't please you.

_Seb._ A new Livery.

_Alph._ Where lay she? who lay with her?

_Port._ In truth, not I, Sir;
I lay with my fellow _Frederick_ in the flea-Chamber,
And't like your Worship, we are almost worried.

_Jul._ I left her by her self, in her own Closet,
And there I thought she had slept.

_Alph._ Why lay you from her?

_Jul._ It was her will I should; she is my Mistriss,
And my part is obedience.

_Alph._ Were all the doors lock'd?

_Port._ All mine.

_Ser._ And mine; she could not get out those ways
Unless she leapt the walls; and those are higher
Than any Womans courage dare aspire at.

_Alph._ Come, you must know.

_Cur._ Conceal it not, but deal plain.

_Jul._ If I did know, and her trust lay upon me,
Not all your angers nor your flatteries
Should make me speak, but having no more interest
Than I may well deliver to the air,
I'll tell ye what I know, and tell it liberally,
I think she is gone, because we cannot find her;
I think she is weary of your tyranny,
And therefore gone; may be she is in love;
May be in love, where you show no great liking,
And therefore gone; May be some point of Conscience,
Or vow'd Devotion.

_Alph._ These are nothing, minion;
You that can aim at these, must know the truth too.

_Jul._ Any more truth than this if I know, hang me,
Or where to search for it, if I make a lye
To gain your love, and envy my best Mistriss,
Pin me against a wall with my heels upward.

_Alph._ Out of my doors.

_Jul._ That's all my poor petition;
For if your house were Gold, and she not in it,
Sir, I should count it but a Cage to whistle in.

_Alph._ Whore, if she be above ground, I will have her.

_Jul._ I would live in a Coal-pit then, were I your daughter.

_Seb._ Certain she does not know, Sir.

_Alph._ Hang her, hang her;
She knows too much; search all the house, all corners,
And where 'tis possible she may go out, [_Ex. Servants._
If I do find your tricks.

_Jul._ Reward me for 'em.
Or if I had such tricks, you could discover
So weak, and sleightly woven, you might look through,
All the young Girls should hoot me out o' th' Parish;
You are my Master, but you own an anger
Becomes a School-Boy that hath lost his Apples;
Will ye force things into our knowledges?

_Alph._ Come hither, _Juletta_, thou didst love me.

_Jul._ And do stil[l],
You are my Ladies Father, and I reverence ye.

_Alph._ Thou would'st have pleas'd my humour.

_Jul._ Any good way,
That carried not suspicion in't, or flattery,
Or fail of trust.

_Alph._ Come, come, thou wouldst have--

_Jul._ Stay, Sir.

_Alph._ And thou hast felt my bounty for't, and shalt do.
Dost thou want Cloaths or Money?

_Jul._ Both.

_Alph._ 'Shalt have both.

_Jul._ But not this way, I had rather be an Adamite,
And bring Fig-tree leaves into fashion again.
If you were young, Sir,
Handsome, and fitted to a Womans appetite;
And I a giddy-headed Girl, that car'd for nothing,
Much might be done; then you might fumble with me,
And think to grope out matters of some moment,
Which now you will put too short for;
For what you have seen hitherto
And know by me, has been but honest service,
Which I dare pin i'th' market-place to answer;
And let the World, the Flesh, and Devil examine it,
And come you in too, I dare stand your strictest.
And so much good may do you, with your dreams of courtesie.

_Alph._ This is most monstrous.

_Enter Porter, and Servants._

_Seb._ Sure she does not know, Sir;
She durst not be so confident, and guilty.

_Alph._ How now, what news? what hopes and steps discovered?
Speak any thing that's good, that tends to th' matter;
Do you stand staring still?

_1 Serv._ We are no gods, Sir,
To say she is here or there, or what she is doing;
But we have search'd.

_Port._ I am sure she is not i'th' Cellar;
For look you, Sir, if she had been i'th' Cellar--

_Alph._ I am sure thou hast been there.

_Port._ As I carried the matter,
For I search'd every piece of Wine; yes sure, Sir,
And every little Terse, that could but testifie;
And I drew hard to bolt her out.

_Alph._ Away with him;
Fling him i'th' Hay-mow, let him lye a mellowing;
He stinks of Muskadel like an _English Christmas_;
Are these your cares? your services?

_2 Serv._ Pray ye hear, Sir,
We have found where she went out, her very footing.

_Alph._ Where, where? go on.

_Cur._ Observe then with more stayedness.

_2 Ser._ Searching the Garden at the little Postern
That opens to the Park, we first discovered it.

_Alph._ A little foot?

_1 Serv._ It must be hers, or none, Sir.

_Alph._ How far beyond that?

_1 Serv._ To the Park it leads us,
But there the ground being hard, we could not mark it.

_Alph._ She always kept that Key; I was a Coxcomb,
A Fool, an Ass, to give a Girl that liberty;
Saddle my Horses, Rogues, ye drunken Varlets,
Your precious diligence lies in Pint-pots,
Your Brains in Butts, my Horses, ye pin-Buttocks.
You'll bear me Company?

_Seb._ We dare not leave ye,
Unless we found a quieter soul within ye.

_Cur._ If we may do the Lady any service,
Sweet, gentle Soul.

_Alph._ I say again, my horses,
Are ye so hot? have ye your private Pilgrimages?
Must ye be jumping, Joan? I'll wander with ye;
I'll jump ye, and I'll juggle ye, my horses;
And keep me this young Lirry-poop within doors,
I will discover, Dame.

_Jul._ 'Tis fit you should, Sir,
If ye knew what; well Love, if thou beest with her,
Or what power else that arms her resolution,
Conduct her fair, and keep her from this mad-man,
Direct her to her wishes; dwell about her,
That no dishonourable end o'rtake her,
Danger, or want; and let me try my fortune.

_Alph._ You know the place we meet in?

_Seb._ We shall hit it.

_Alph._ And as ye are honest Gentlemen, endeavour.

_Cur._ We'l search the best we can; if she light in our hands.

_Alph._ I'll tye her to the horse-tail.

_Seb._ We know how to use her,
But not your way, for all your state.

_Alph._ Make haste there;
And get you in, and look to th' house. If you stir out, Damsel,
Or set a foot any new motion this way,
When I come home (which will be suddenly)
You know my mind; if you do play the Rascal,
I have my eyes and ears in sundry places,
If ye do praunce.

_Jul._ I shall do that that's fit, Sir;
And fit to cross your fooleries; I'll fail else:
And so I'll to my Chamber. [_Exit._

_Alph._ To your Prayers,
And leave your stubborn tricks; she is not far yet,
She cannot be, and we dividing suddenly.

_Cur._ Keep her from thy hands, I beseech.

_Alph._ Our horses;
Come chearfully. I'll teach her to run gadding. [_Exeunt._

SCENE II.

_Enter_ Roderigo, _and four Out-Laws._

_1 Out-law._ Captain, y'are not merry.

_Rod._ We get nothing,
We have no sport; whoring and drinking spoils us,
We keep no Guards.

_2 Out-law._ There come no Passengers,
Merchants, nor Gentlemen, nor whosoever,
But we have tribute.

_Rod._ And whilst we spend that idlely,
We let those pass that carry the best purchase.
I'll have all search'd, and brought in: Rogues, and Beggars,
Have got the trick now to become Bank-masters.
I'll have none scape; only my friends and neighbours,
That may deliver to the King my innocence;
Those I would have regarded; 'tis policy.
But otherwise nor gravities, nor shadows,
Appear they how they will, they may have purses,
For they shall pay.

3 _Out-law._ You speak now like a Captain.
And if we spare, fley us, and coin our Cassocks,
Will ye look blith?

_Rod._ You hear no preparation
The King intends against us yet?

4 _Out-law._ Not a word, Sir,
Good man, he's troubled with matter of more moment,
Hummings of higher nature vex his brains, Sir,
Do not we see his Garrisons?

_Rod._ Who are out now?

4 _Out-law._ Good fellows, Sir, that if there be any purchase stirring
Will strike it dead; _Jaques_, and _Lopez_, Lads,
That know their Quarters, as they know their Knapsacks;
And will not off.

_Rod._ Where is the Boy ye brought me?
A pretty Lad, and of a quick capacity,
And bred up neatly.

1 _Out-law._ He's within at meat, Sir,
The Knave is hungry, yet he seasons all
He eats or drinks with many tears and sighings,
The saddest appetite I ever lookt on;
The Boy is young, 'tis fear, and want of company,
He knows, and loves; use him not rough, and harshly,
He will be quickly bold; I'll entertain him;
I want a pretty Boy to wait upon me,
And when I am sad or sleepy, to prate to me;
Besides there's something in his face I like well.
And still the more I look, more like; let him want nothing,
And use him gently, all.

_2 Out-law._ Here's a small Box, Sir,
We took about him, which he griev'd to part with,
May be some Wealth.

_Rod._ Alas, some little money
The poor Knave carried to defray his lodgings,
I'll give it him again, and add unto it.
'Twere sin to open such a petty purchase.

_Enter_ Lopez, _and_ Jaques _with_ Pedro.

How now, who is this? what have you brought me, Souldiers?

_Lop._ We know not well, what a strange staving fellow,
Sullen enough I am sure.

_Rod._ Where took ye him?

_Jaq._ Upon the Skirt o' th' wood, viewing, and gaping,
And sometime standing still, as if he had meant
To view the best accesses to our quarters;
Money he has enough; and when we threatned him,
He smil'd, and yielded; but not one word utter'd.

_Lop._ His habit says he's holy, if his heart
Keep that proportion too, 'tis best ye free him,
We keep his wallet here; I am sure 'tis heavy.

_Rod._ Pilgrim, come hither, Sir, are you a Pilgrim?
A piece of pretty holiness; do you shrink, Sir?
A smug young Saint. What Country were you born in?
Ye have a _Spanish_ face; In a dumb Province?
And had your Mother too this excellent Vertue?
No tongue do you say? sure she was a matchless woman;
What a fine family is this man sprung from!
Certain he was begotten in a Calm,
When all was hush'd; the Midwife was dumb Midnight;
Are ye seal'd up? or do you scorn to answer?
Ye are in my hands, and I have Medicines for ye
Can make ye speak: pull off his Bonnet, Souldiers;
Ye have a speaking face.

_Lop._ I am sure a handsome;
This Pilgrim cannot want She-Saints to pray to.

_Rod._ Stand nearer, ha?

_Ped._ Come, do your worst, I am ready.

_Rod._ Is your tongue found? go off, and let me talk with him;
And keep your watches round.

_All._ We are ready, Captain.

_Rod._ So, now what are ye?

_Ped._ Am I?
My habit shews me what I am.

_Rod._ Thy heart
A desperate fool, and so thy fate shall tell thee.
What Devil brought thee hither? for I know thee.

_Ped._ I know thou dost, and since it is my fortune
To light into thy fingers, I must think too
The most malicious of all Devils brought me,
Yet some men say thou art noble.

_Rod._ Not to thee,
That were a benefit to mock the Giver;
Thy father hates my friends, and family,
And thou hast been the heir of all this malice.
Can two such storms meet then, and part with kissing?

_Ped._ You have the mightier hand.

_Rod._ And so I'll use it.

_Ped._ I cannot hinder ye; less can I beg
Submissive at his knees that knows not honour,
That bears the Stamp of Man, and not his Nature;
Ye may do what ye please.

_Rod._ I will do all.

_Ped._ And when you have done all, which is my poor ruine,
(For farther your base malice cannot venture)
Dishonours self will cry you out a Coward.
Hadst thou been brave, and noble, and an Enemy,
Thou wouldst have sought me whilst I carried Arms,
Whilst my good Sword was my profession,
And then have cryed out, _Pedro_, I defie thee;
Then stuck _Alphonso_'s quarrel on the point,
The mercenary anger thou serv'st under,
To get his Daughter. Then thou shouldst have brav'd me,
And arm'd with all thy Families hate upon thee,
Done something worthy feat; Now poor and basely
Thou setst Toyls to betray me; and like the Pesant,
That dares not meet the Lion in the face,
Dig'st crafty pit-falls: thou sham'st the _Spanish_ Honour;
Thou hast neither point of Man, nor Conscience in thee.

_Rod._ Sir, Sir, y'are brave, ye plead now in a Sanctuary,
You think your Pilgrims Bulwark can defend ye;
You will not find it so.

_Ped._ I look not for't.
The more unhallowed soul hast thou to offer it.

_Rod._ When you were bravest, Sir, and your sword sharpest,
I durst affront ye; when the Court Sun gilded ye,
And every cry was the young hopeful _Pedro_,
_Alonso_'s sprightly Son; then durst I meet ye,
When you were Master of this fame, and fashion,
And all your glories in the full Meridian,
The Kings proof-favour buckled on your body;
Had we then come to competition,
Which I have often sought.

_Pedro._ And I desir'd too.

_Rod._ You should have seen this Sword, how e're you slight it,
And felt it too; sharper than sorrow felt it,
In execution quicker than thy scorns;
Thou should'st have seen all this, and shrunk to see it.
Then like a Gentleman I would have us'd thee,
And given thee the fair fortune of thy being,
Then with a Souldiers arm I had honour'd thee;
But since thou stealst upon me like a Spie,
And thief-like thinkst that holy case shall carry thee
Through all my purposes, and so betray me,
Base as the act, thy end be, and I forget thee.

_Ped._ What poor evasions thou buildst on, to abuse me!
The goodness of a man ne'r taught these principles.
I come a Spie? durst any noble spirit
Put on this habit, to become a Traitor?
Even in an Enemy shew me this antipathy
Where there is _Christian_ faith, and this not reverenced:
I come a Spie? no _Roderigo_, no,
A hater of thy person, a maligner?
So far from that, I brought no malice with me,
But rather when I meet thee, tears to soften thee;
When I put on this habit, I put off
All fires, all angers, all those starts of youth
That clapt too rank a bias to my being,
And drew me from the right mark all should aim at;
In stead of stubborn steel, I put on prayers;
For rash and hasty heats, a sweet repentance:
Long weary steps, and vows, for my vain-glories.
O _Roderigo_.

_Rod._ If thy tongue could save thee,
Prating be thy bail, thou hast a rare benefit.
Souldiers, come out, and bring a halter with ye;
I'le forgive your holy habit, Sir, but I'le hang you.

_Enter Out-laws_, Lope[z], Jaques.

_1 Out-l._ Wherefore this halter Captain?

_Rod._ For this traytor.
Go, put it on him, and then tie him up.

_1._ Do you want a Band Sir? this is a course wearing,
'Twill fit but scurvily upon this collar;
But patience is as good as a _French_ Pickadel.

_Lop._ What's his fault, Captain?

_Rod._ 'Tis my will he perish,
And that's his fault.

_Ped._ A Captain of good government.
Come Souldiers, come, ye are roughly bred, and bloody,
Shew your obedience, and the joy ye take
In executing impious commands;
Ye have a Captain seals your liberal pardons,
Be no more _Christians_, put religion by,
'Twill make ye cowards: feel no tenderness,
Nor let a thing call'd conscience trouble ye;
Alas, 'twill breed delay. Bear no respect
To what I seem; were I a Saint indeed,
Why should that stagger ye? you know not holiness:
To be excellent in evil, is your goodness;
And be so, 'twill become ye: have no hearts,
For fear you should repent: that will be dangerous:
For if there be a knocking there, a pricking,
And that pulse beat back to your considerations,
How ye have laid a stiff hand on Religion--

_Rod._ Truss him I say.

_Ped._ And violated faith.

_Rod._ Hear him not prate.

_Ped._ Why, what a thing will this be?
What strange confusion then will breed among ye?

_Rod._ Will none of ye obey?

_Ped._ What Devils vex ye?
The fears ye live in and the hourly dangers
Will be delights to these: those have their ends,
But these outlive all time, and all repentance:
And if it creep into your conscience once,
Be sure ye lock that close.

_Rod._ Why stand ye gazing?

_Ped._ Farewel sleep, peace, all that are humane comforts,
Better ye had been Trees, or Stones, and happier;
For those die here, and seek no further being,
Nor hopes, nor punishments.

_Rod._ Rots take ye, Rascals.

_Jaq._ What would you have us do?

_Rod._ Dispatch the prater.

_Jaq._ And have religious blood hang on our consciences?
We are bad enough already: sins enough
To make our graves even loath us.

_Rod._ No man love me?

_Lop._ Although I be a thief, I am no hangman;
They are two mens trades, and let another execute.
Lay violent hands on holy things?

_Rod._ Base Cowards,
Put to your powers, ye rascals, I command ye.
Holy, or unholy, if I say it,
I'le have it done.

_1 Out-l._ If I do't, let me starve for't.

_2._ Or I.

_3._ Or I: we will obey things handsom,
And bad enough, and overdo obedience:
But to be made such instruments of mischief.

_Jaq._ I have done as many villanies as another,
And with as little reluctation,
Let me come clear of these, and wipe that score off.
Put me upon a felt and known perdition?

_Rod._ Have ye conspir'd, ye slaves?

_Ped._ How vilely this shows,
In one that would command anothers temper,
And bear no bound in's own?

_Rod._ Am I thus jaded?

_Ped._ Is it my life thou long'st for _Roderigo_?
And can no sacrifice appease thy malice,
But my blood spilt? do it thy self, dispatch it;
And as thou takst the whole revenge unto thee,
Take the whole sin upon thee; and be mighty,
Mighty in evil, as thou art in anger:
And let not these poor wretches houl for thy sake.
Those things that in thine own glass seem most monstrous,
Wouldst thou abuse their weak sights with, for amiable?
Is it, thou thinkst to fear me with thy terrors,
And into weak condition draw my vertue?
If I were now to learn to die I would sue thee:
Or did I fear death, then I would make thee glorious.
But knowing what, and how far I can suffer;
And all my whole life being but deaths preface,
My sleep but at next door.

_Rod._ Are ye so valiant?
I'le make ye feel: I'le make ye know, and feel too;
And Rascals, you shall tremble. Keep him here,
And keep him safe too: if he scape your guards--

_Ped._ Fear not, I will not.

_Rod._ As I live, ye die for't;
I will not be thus baffled. [_Exit._

_Ja._ What a Devil have ye done, Pilgrim? or what mischief
Have you conspir'd, that he should rage and rave thus?
Have you kill'd his Father, or his Mother? or strangled any of
his kindred?

_Lop._ Has he no Sisters? have you not been bouncing
About their belly-pieces?

_Jaq._ Why should that be dangerous,
Or any way deserve death? is it not natural?
Bar us the _Christian_ liberty of women,
And build us up with brick, take away our free-stone.

_1 Out-l._ Because thou art holier than he, upon my conscience
He does not envy thee: that's not his quarrel;
For, look you, that might be compounded without prayers.

_Lop._ Nor that thou seemst an honester man: for here
We have no trading with such Tinsel-stuff;
To be an excellent thief, is all we aim at.
Wilt thou take a spit and stride, and see if thou canst outrun us?

_Ped._ I scorn to shift his fury, keep your obedience;
For though your government admit no president,
Keep your selves carefull in't.

_Jaq._ Thou wilt be hang'd then.

_Ped._ I cannot die with fewer faults upon me.

_2 Out-l._ 'Tis ten to one he will shoot him: for the Devil's in him
If he hang him himself.

_Lop._ He has too proud a nature:
He will compel some one.

_Jaq._ I am confident.

_Lop._ And so are all I think.

_Ped._ Be not molested,
If I must die, let it not trouble you;
It stirs not me: it is the end I was born for.
Only this honest office I desire ye,
(If there be courtesie in men of your breed)
To see me buried; not to let his fury
Expose my body to the open violence
Of beasts, and fowls: so far I urge humanity.

_Enter_ Roderigo, Alinda.

_Jaq._ He shall not deny us that: we'l see ye under ground,
And give ye a volly of as good cups of Sack,
For that's our Discipline.

_Lop._ He comes again,
As high in rage as ever; the boy with him.

_1 Out-l._ Will he compel the child?

_Lop._ He is bent to do it,
And must have some body.

_Rod._ If thou lov'st me do it:
Love me, or love me not, I say thou shalt do it:
Stare not, nor stagger, Sirrah; if ye deny me,
Do you see this Rogue?

_Alin._ What would ye have me do Sir?
Heavens goodness bless me.

_Rod._ Do? why hang a Rascal,
That would hang me.

_Alin._ I am a boy, and weak, Sir.

_Rod._ Thou art strong enough to tie him to a Bough,
And turn him off: come, thou shalt be my Jewel,
And I'le allow thee horse, and all thy pleasures,
And twenty gallant things: I'le teach thee arms too;
Make thee mine heir.

_Alin._ Let me inherit death first.

_Rod._ Make me not angry, Sirrah.

_Alin._ Which is the man, Sir?
I'le pluck up the best heart I can yet.

_Rod._ Fear not,
It is my will: That in the Pilgrims coat there,
That Devil in the Saints skin.

_Alin._ Guard me goodness.

_Rod._ Dispatch him presently.

_Ped._ I wait your worst, Sir.

_Jaq._ Will the boy do it? is the rogue so confident?
So young, so deep in blood?

_Lop._ He shakes, and trembles.

_Ped._ Dost thou seek more coals still to sear thy conscience,
Work sacred innocence, to be a Devil?
Do't thy self for shame, thou best becom'st it.

_Rod._ Sirrah, I scorn my finger should be 'fil'd with thee;
And yet I'le have it done: this child shall strangle thee,
A crying Girle, if she were here, should master thee.

_Alin._ How should I save him? how my self from violence?

_Ped._ Leave your tongue-valour, and dispatch your hate, Sir;
The patience of my death, shall more torment thee,
(Thou painted honour, thou base man made backward)
Than all my life has fear'd thee.

_Rod._ Gag him, Sirrah.

_Jaq._ The Boy looks cheerfully now: sure he will do it.

_Lop._ He will mall him else.

_Alin._ Are ye prepar'd to die, Sir?

_Ped._ Yes boy, and ready; prethee to thy business.

_Alin._ Why are ye then so angry? so perplext, Sir?
Patience wins Heaven, and not the heat of passion.
Why do you rayle?

_Lop._ The boy's a pretty Priest.

_Ped._ I thank ye gentle child, you teach me truely.

_Alin._ You seem to fear too.

_Ped._ Thou seest more, than I feel, boy.

_Alin._ You tremble sure.

_Ped._ No sure boy, 'tis thy tenderness:
Prethee make haste, and let that gulph be satisfied.

_Alin._ Are ye so willing to go to it?

_Ped._ Most willing:
I would not borrow from his courtesie
One hour of life, to gain an age of glory.

_Alin._ And is your reckoning straight Sir?

_Ped._ As straight as truth, boy:
I cannot go more joyfully to a wedding.

_Alin._ Then to your prayers: I'le dispatch ye presently.
Now guide my tongue, thou blessedness.

_Rod._ A good boy.

_Alin._ But hark ye Sir, one word; and pray ye resolve me.
Let me speak privately.

_Rod._ What wouldst thou have child?

_Alin._ Shall this man die?

_Rod._ Why dost thou make that question?

_Alin._ Pray ye be not angry: if he must, I'le do it.
But must he now?

_Rod._ What else? who dare reprieve him?

_Alin._ Pray ye think again; and as your injuries
Are great, and full, you suffer from this fellow,
Do not ye purpose so to suit your vengeance?

_Rod._ I do, and must.

_Alin._ You cannot if he die now.

_Rod._ Cannot?

_Alin._ No, cannot: be not vext, you'l find it:
I have considered, and I know it certain,
Ye suffer below him: lose all your angers.

_Rod._ Why, my best boy?

_Alin._ I love, and tender ye,
I would not tell ye else. Is that revenge,
To slight your cause, and Saint your enemy,
Clap the Doves wings of downy peace unto him,
And let him soar to Heaven, whilst you are sighing?
Is this revenge?

_Rod._ I would have him die.

_Alin._ Prepar'd thus?
The blessing of a Father never reach'd it:
His contemplation now scorns ye, contemns ye,
And all the tortures ye can use. Let him die thus;
And these that know and love revenge will laugh at ye:
Here lies the honour of a well-bred anger,
To make his enemy shake and tremble under him;
Doubt, nay, almost despair, and then confound him.
This man ye rock asleep, and all your rages
Are Requiems to his parting soul, meer Anthems.

_Rod._ Indeed he is strongly built.

_Alin._ You cannot shake him;
And the more weight ye put on his foundation,
Now as he stands, ye fix him still the stronger;
If ye love him, honour him, would heap upon him
Friendships and benefits beyond example,
Hope him a Star in Heaven, and there would stick him,
Now take his life.

_Rod._ I had rather take mine own, Boy.

_Alin._ I'le ease him presently.

_Rod._ Stay, be not hasty.

_Alin._ Bless my tongue still.

_Lop._ What has the boy done to him?
How dull, and still he looks!

_Alin._ You are a wise man,
And long have buckled with the worlds extremities,
A valiant man, and no doubt know both fortunes,
And would ye work your Master-piece thus madly,
Take the bare name of honour, that will pity ye
When the world knows ye have prey'd on a poor Pilgrim?

_Rod._ The boy has stagger'd me: what would'st thou have me?

_Ali._ Have ye? do you not feel Sir? do's it not stir ye?
Do you ask a child? I would have ye do most bravely,
Because I most affect ye: like your self Sir,
Scorn him, and let him go; seem to contemn him,
And now ye have made him shake, seal him his pardon,
When he appears a subject fit for anger,
And fit for you, his pious Armour off,
His hopes no higher than your sword may reach at,
Then strike, and then ye know revenge; then take it.
I hope I have turn'd his mind.

_Rod._ Let the fool go there,
I scorn to let loose so base an anger
May light on thee: See me no more, but quit me;
And when we meet again.

_Ped._ I'le thank ye Captain. [_Exit._

_Alin._ Why this was like your self: but which way goes he?
Shall we ne're happy meet?

_Rod._ I am drowsie: Boy,
Go with me, and discourse: I like thy company
O Child! I love thy tongue.

_Alin._ I shall wait on ye. [_Exit._

_Lop._ The Boy has don't: a Plaguey witty Rascal.
And I shall love him terribly.

_Jaq._ 'Twas he most certain,
For if ye mark, how earnest he was with him,
And how he labour'd him.

_Lop._ A cunning villain,
But a good rogue; 'This boy will make's all honest.

_1 Out-l._ I scarce believe that: but I like the boy well.
Come let's to Supper; then upon our watches.

_Lop._ This Pilgrim scap'd a joyfull one.

_Jaq._ Let's drink round
To the boys health, and then about our business.

[_Exeunt._

_Actus Tertius. Scena Prima._

_Enter_ Roderigo, Jaques, Lopez, _and three Out-Laws_.

_Rod._ None of you know her?

_Jaq._ Alas Sir, we never saw her:
Nor ever heard of her, but from your report.

_Rod._ No happy eye?

_Lop._ I do not think 'tis she, Sir,
Me thinks a woman dares not.

_Rod._ Thou speak'st poorly,
What dares not woman, when she is provok'd?
Or what seems dangerous to Love, or fury?
That it is she, this has confirm'd me certain,
These Jewels here, a part of which I sent her,
And though unwilling, yet her Father wrought her
To take, and wear.