Chapter VIII: Part 8

_Jul._ Did you observe him well? 'tis like it may be he.

_Mast._ I have seen younger men of better temper.

_Jul._ You have hit the cause I come for; there's a Letter,
Pray ye peruse it well; I shall be wi' ye;
And suddenly, I fear not, finely, daintily,
I shall so feed your fierce vexation,
And raise your Worships storms; I shall so niggle ye,
And juggle ye, and fiddle ye, and firk ye:
I'll make ye curse the hour ye vext a Woman;
I'll make ye shake when our Sex are but sounded;
For the Lords sake we shall have him at; I long to see it
As much as for my wedding night; I gape after it.

_Mast._ This Letter says the Gentleman is lunatick,
I half suspected it.

_Jul._ 'Tis very true, Sir,
And such pranks he has plaid.

_Mast._ He's some great man,
The Duke commands me with such care to look to him,
And if he grow too violent, to correct him,
To use the speediest means for his recovery,
And those he must find sharp.

_Jul._ The better for him.

_Mast._ How got ye him hither?

_Jul._ With a train, I told him;
He's in love with a Boy, there lyes his melancholy.

_Mast._ Hither he came to seek one.

_Jul._ Yes, I sent him,
Now had we dealt by force, we had never brought him.

_Mast._ Here was a Boy.

_Jul._ He saw him not?

_Mast._ He was gone first.

_Jul._ It is the better; look you to your charge well;
I'll see him lodged, for so the Duke commanded me,
He will be very rough.

_Mast._ We are us'd to that, Sir,
And we as rough as he, if he give occasion.

_Jul._ You will find him gainful, but be sure ye curb him,
And get him, if ye can fairly, to his lodging,

_Enter_ Alphonso.

I am afraid ye will not.

_Mast._ We must sweat then.

_Alph._ What dost thou talk to me of noises? I'l have more noise,
I'll have all loose, and all shall play their prizes;
Thy Master has let loose the Boy I lookt for,
Basely convey'd him hence.

_Keep._ Will ye go out, Sir?

_Alph._ I will not out; I will have all out with me, [_Shake Irons._
I'll have thy Master in; he's only mad here:
And Rogues, I'll have ye all whipt; heigh, mad Boys, mad Boys.

_Jul._ Do you perceive him now?

_Mast._ 'Tis too apparent.

_Jul._ I am glad she is gone; he raves thus.

_Mast._ Do you hear, Sir?
'Pray will ye make less stir, and see your Chamber,
Call in more help, and make the Closet ready.

_Keep._ I thought he was mad; I'll have one long lash at ye.

_Alph._ My Chamber? where my Chamber? why my Chamber?
Where's the young Boy?

_Mast._ Nay, Pray ye, Sir, be more modest
For your own Credit sake; the people see ye,
And I would use ye with the best.

_Alph._ Best, hang ye,
What dost thou think me mad?

_Mast._ Pray, and be civil,
Heaven may deliver ye.

_Alph._ Into a rogues hands.

_Mast._ You do but draw more misery upon ye,
And add to your disease.

_Alph._ Get from me.

_Mast._ No Sir,
You must not be left so: bear your self civilly,
And 'twill be better for ye: swell not, nor chafe not.

_Alp._ I am a Gentleman, and a neighbour, rascal.

_Mast._ A great deal the more pity: I have heard of ye.

_Jul._ Excellent Master.

_Mast._ The Duke is very tender too.

_Alph._ Am I lunatique? am I run mad?
What dost thou talk to me of Dukes, and Devils,
Why do the people gape so?

_Mast._ Do not anger 'em,
But go in quietly, and slip in softly
They will so tew ye, else, I am commanded Sir.

_Alph._ Why, prethee why?

_Mast._ Ye are dog-mad: you perceive it not,
Very far mad: and whips will scant recover ye.

_Alph._ Ha! whips?

_Mast._ I whips, and sore whips, and ye were a Lord Sir,
If ye be stubborn here.

_Alph._ Whips? what am I grown?

_Jul._ O I could burst: hold, hold, hold, hold o' both ends,
How he looks, pray heaven, he be not mad indeed.

_Alph._ I do not perceive I am so; but if you think it,
Nor I'le be hangd if 't be so.

_Mast._ Do you see this Sir? [_Irons brought in._
Down with that Devil in ye.

_Alph._ Indeed I am angry,
But I'le contain my self: O I could burst now,
And tear my self, but these rogues will torment me,
Mad in mine old days? make mine own afflictions?

_Mast._ What do you mutter Sir?

_Alph._ Nothing, Sir, nothing;
I will go in, and quietly, most civilly:
And good Sir, let none of your tormentors come about me,
You have a gentle face; they look like Dragons.

_Mast._ Be civil and be safe: come, for these two daies
Ye must eat nothing neither: 'twill ease your fits Sir.

_Alph._ 'Twill starve me Sir; but I must bear it joyfully.
I may sleep?

_Mast._ Yes, a little: go in with these men.

_Alph._ O miserable me! [_Exit._

_Mast._ I'le follow presently,
You see 'tis done Sir,

_Jul._ Ye have done it handsomely,
And I'le inform the Duke so: pray ye attend him,
Let him want nothing, but his will.

_Mast._ He shall not,
And if he be rebellious--

_Jul._ Never spare him:
H'as flesh, and hide enough, he loves a whipping.

_Mast._ My service to his Grace. [_Exit._

_Jul._ I shall commend it.
So, thou art fast: I must go get some fresh room
To laugh, and caper in: O how it tickles me!
O how it tumbles me with joy! thy mouth's stopt:
Now if I can do my Mistris good, I am Sainted. [_Exit._

_Actus Quintus. Scena Prima._

_Enter_ Seberto, Curio.

_Seb._ Now, o' my conscience, we have lost him utterly,
He's not gone home: we heard from thence this morning,
And since our parting last at _Roderigo's_
You know what ground we have travel'd.

_Cur._ He's asleep sure:
For if he had been awake, we should have met with him:
'Faith let's turn back, we have but a fruitless journey;
And to hope further of _Alindas_ recovery,
(For sure she'l rather perish than return)
Is but to seek a Moth i'th' Sun.

_Seb._ We'l on sure;
Something we'l know, some cause of all this fooling,
Make some discovery.

_Cur._ Which way shall we cast then,
For all the Champion Country, and the villages,
And all those sides?

_Seb._ We'l cross these woods awhile then:
Here if we fail, we'l gallop to _Segovia_.
And if we light of no news there, hear nothing;
We'l even turn fairly home, and coast the other side.

_Cur._ He may be sick, or faln into some danger;
He has no guide, nor no man to attend him.

_Seb._ He's well enough, he has a travel'd body,
And though he be old, he's tough, and will endure well;
But he is so violent to finde her out,
That his anger leads him a thousand wild-goose chases:
I'le warrant he is well.

_Cur._ Shall we part company?

_Seb._ By no means, no: that were a sullen business:
No pleasure in our journey: come, let's cross here first,
And where we find the paths, let them direct us. [_Exeunt._

SCENE II.

_Enter_ Juletta, Alinda.

_Jul._ Why are you still so fearfull of me, Lady?
So doubtfull of my faith, and honest service?
To hide your self from me, to fly my company?
Am I not yours? all yours? by this light you shake still;
Do ye suspect me false? did I ever fail ye?
Do you think I am corrupted? base? and treacherous?
Lord, how ye look! Is not my life ty'd to ye?
And all the power I have to serve, and honour ye?
Still do ye doubt? still am I terrible?
I will not trouble ye: good Heaven preserve ye,
And send ye what ye wish: I will not see ye,
Nor once remember I had such a Mistris.
I will not speak of ye, nor name _Alinda_,
For fear you should suspect I would betray ye:
Goodness and peace conduct ye.

_Alin._ Prethee pardon me,
I know thou art truly faithfull: and thou art welcom,
A welcom partner to my miseries;
Thou knowst I love thee too.

_Jul._ I have thought so, Lady.

_Alin._ Alas, my fears have so distracted me
I durst not trust my self.

_Jul._ Come, pray ye think better,
And cast those by: at least consider, Lady,
How to prevent 'em: pray ye put off this fools coat;
Though it have kept ye secret for a season,
'Tis known now, and will betray ye; your arch enemy
_Roderigo_ is abroad: many are looking for ye.

_Alin._ I know it: and those many I have cozen'd.

_Jul._ You cannot still do thus.

_Alin._ I have no means to shift it.

_Jul._ I have: and shift you too. I lay last night
At a poor widows house here in the Thicket,
Whither I will conduct ye, and new shape ye,
My self too to attend ye.

_Alin._ What means hast thou?
For mine are gone.

_Jul._ Fear not, enough to serve ye;
I came not out so empty.

_Alin._ Prethee tell me,
(For thou hast struck a kind of comfort through me.)
When saw'st thou _Roderigo_?

_Jul._ Even this morning,
And in these woods: take heed, h'as got a new shape.

_Alin._ The habit of a Pilgrim? yes, I know it,
And I hope shall prevent it; was he alone?

_Jul._ No Madam, and which made me wonder mightily,
He was in company with that handsom Pilgrim,
That sad sweet man.

_Alin._ That I forgot to give to?

_Jul._ The same, the very same, that you so pitied,
A man as fit to suit his villanies.

_Alin._ And did they walk together?

_Jul._ Wondrous civilly.

_Alin._ Talk, and discourse?

_Jul._ I think so, for I saw 'em
Make many stands, and then embrace each other.

_Alin._ The Pilgrim is betrai'd, a _Judas_ dwells with him,
A _Sinon_, that will seem a Saint to choak him.
Canst thou but shew me this?

_Jul._ Lord how she trembles!
Not thus, for all the world, ye are undone then;
But let's retire, and alter, then we'l walk free;
And then I'le shew ye any thing.

_Alin._ Come, good wench,
And speedily: for I have strange faiths working,
As strange fears too, I'le tell thee all my life then.

_Jul._ Come quick, I'le conduct ye, and still serve ye,
And do not fear; hang fear, it spoils all projects.
This way; I'le be your guide. [_Exeunt._

SCENE III.

_Enter Governour_, Verdugo, _Citizens_.

_Gov._ Use all your sports,
All your solemnities; 'tis the Kings day to morrow,
His birth-day, and his marriage, a glad day,
A day we ought to honour, all.

_1 Citi._ We will Sir,
And make _Segovia_ ring with our rejoycings.

_Gov._ Be sumptuous, but not riotous; be bounteous,
But not in drunken _Bacchanals_: free to all strangers,
Easie, and sweet in all your entertainments,
For 'tis a Royal day admits no rudeness.

_2 Citi._ Your Lordship will do us the honour to be here your self,
And grace the day?

_Gov._ 'Tis a main part of my service.

_3 Citi._ I hope your honour has taken into your consideration
The miseries we have suffered by these Out-laws,
The losses, hourly fears; the rude abuses
Strangers that travel to us are daily loaden with,
Our Daughters, and our wives complaints.

_Gov._ I am sorry for't,
And have Commission from the King to ease it:
You shall not be long vext.

_1 Cit._ Had we not walls, Sir,
And those continually man'd too with our watches,
We should not have a bit of meat to feed us.
And yet they are our friends, and we must think so,
And entertain 'em so sometimes, and feast 'em,
And send 'em loaden home too, we are lost else.

_2 Cit._ They'l come to Church amongst us, as we hope _Christians_,
When all their zeal is but to steal the Chalices;
At this good time now, if your Lordship were not here,
To awe their violence with your authority,
They would play such gombals.

_Gov._ Are they grown so heady?

_2 Cit._ They would drink up all our Wine, piss out our Bonfires;
Then, like the drunken _Centaures_, have at the fairest,
Nay, have at all: four-score and ten's a Goddess,
Whilst we, like fools, stand shaking in our cellars.

_Gov._ Are they so fierce upon so little sufferance?
I'le give 'em such a purge, and suddenly.
_Verdugo_, after this solemnity is over,
Call on me for a charge of men, of good men,
To see what house these knaves keep: of good Souldiers,
As sturdy as themselves: that dare dispute with 'em,
Dare walk the woods as well as they, as fearless,
But with a better faith belabour 'em;
I'le know what claim they have to their possession.
'Tis pity of their Captain _Roderigo_,
A well-bred Gentleman, and a good Souldier,
And one his Majesty has some little reason
To thank, for sundry services, and fair ones;
That long neglect: bred this, I am sorry for him.

_Ver._ The hope of his estate keeps back his pardon,
There's divers wasps, that buz about that hony-box,
And long to lick themselves full.

_Gov._ True _Verdugo_,
Would he had but the patience to discern it,
And policy to wipe their lips.

_Verd._ To fetch him in Sir,
By violence, he being now no infant,
Will ask some bloody crowns. I know his people
Are of his own choice, men that will not totter,
Nor blench much at a Bullet; I know his order,
And though he have no multitude, h'as manhood;
The elder-twin to that too, staid experience.
But if he must be forced, Sir,--

_Gov._ There's no remedy,
Unless he come himself.

_Ver._ That will be doubtfull.
Did you never hear yet of the noble _Pedro_?

_Gov._ I cannot by no means: I think he's dead sure;
The court bewails much his untimely loss:
The King himself laments him.

_Verd._ He was sunk;
And if he be dead, he died happily,
He buried all he had in the Kings service,
And lost himself.

_Gov._ Well: if he be alive, Captain,
(As hope still speaks the best) I know the Kings mind
So inwardly and full, he will be happy.
Come, to this preparation; when that's done,
The Out-laws expedition is begun.

_Cit._ We'l contribute all to that, and help our selves too. [_Exeunt._

SCENE IV.

_Enter_ Roderigo, Pedro.

_Rod._ How sweet these solitary places are! how wantonly
The wind blows through the leaves, and courts, and playes with 'em!
Will ye sit down, and sleep? the heat invites ye.
Hark how yond purling stream dances, and murmurs,
The Birds sing softly too: pray take some rest, Sir.
I would fain wooe his fancie to a peace,
It labours high and hastily upon him;
Pray ye sit, and I'le sit by.

_Ped._ I cannot sleep friend,
I have those watches here admit no slumbers,
Saw ye none yet?

_Rod._ No creature.

_Ped._ What strange Musick
Was that we heard afar off?

_Rod._ I cannot guess;
'Twas loud, and shrill: sometimes it shew'd hard by us,
And by and by the sound fled as the wind does;
Here's no inhabitants.

_Ped._ It much delighted me.

_Rod._ They talk of Fairies, and such demi-devils,
This is a fine place to dance their gambols.--

_Ped._ Me thought I heard a voyce. [_Musick and Birds._

_Rod._ They can sing admirably,
They never lose their maiden-heads: I would fool any way
To make him merry now: methink yond rocks yonder
Shew like inchanted Cells, where they inhabit.

[_Musick afar off. Pot Birds._

_Ped._ 'Tis here again, hark gentle _Roderigo_,
Hark, hark: O sweet, sweet, how the Birds record too!
Mark how it flies now every way. O love,
In such a harmony art thou begotten,
In such soft air, so gentle, lull'd and nourish'd,
O my best Mistris!

_Rod._ How he weeps! dear Heaven
Give him his hearts content, and me forgive too.
I must melt too.

_Ped._ The Birds sing louder, sweeter,
And every note they emulate one another.
Lie still and hear: These when they have done their labours,

_Enter_ Alinda, _and_ Juletta, _like old Women_.

Their pretty airs, fall to their rests, enjoy 'em.
Nothing rocks Love asleep, but death.

_Rod._ Who are these?

_Ped._ What.

_Rod._ Those there, those, those things that come upon us,
Those grandam things, those strange antiquities.
Did not I say these woods begot strange wonders?

_Jul._ Now ye may view 'em.

_Alin._ Ha?

_Jul._ The men ye long'd for,
Here they are both: now ye may boldly talk with 'em,
And never be ghess'd at: be not afraid, nor faint not;
They wonder at us; let's maintain that wonder;
Shake not, but what ye purpose do discreetly,
And from your tongue I'le take my part.

_Alin._ Ha?

_Jul._ There: before ye, there, do not turn coward Mistress,
If ye do love, carry your Love out handsomely.

_Alin._ 'Tis he and _Roderigo_; what a peace
Dwells in their faces, what a friendly calm
Crowns both their souls!

_Rod._ They show as if they were mortal,
They come upon us still.

_Ped._ Be not afraid, Man,
Let 'em be what they will, they cannot hurt us.

_Rod._ That thing i'th' Button'd-cap looks terribly.
She has Guns in her eyes, the Devils Ingeneer.

_Ped._ Come, stand, and let's go meet 'em.

_Rod._ Go you first.
I have less faith: when I have said my Prayers--

_Ped._ There needs no fear, hale reverend dames.

_Alin._ Good even.
What do ye seek?

_Ped._ We would seek happier fortunes.

_Rod._ That little devil has main need of a Barber,
What a trim beard she has!

_Alin._ Seek 'em, and make 'em,
Lie not still, nor longer here,
Here inhabits nought but fear,
Be constant good, in faith be clear,
Fortune will wait ye every where.

_Ped._ Whither should we go? for we believe thy reverence,
And next obey.

_Alin._ Go to _Segovia_,
And there before the Altar pay thy vowes,
Thy gifts, and prayers: unload thy heaviness,
To morrow shed thy tears, and gain thy suit,
Such honest noble showrs, ne're wanted fruit.

_Jul._ Stand you out too.

_Rod._ I shall be hang'd, or whipt now:
These know, and these have power.

_Jul._ See how he shakes.
A secure conscience never quakes,
Thou hast been ill; be so no more,
A good retreat is a great store.
Thou hast commanded men of might,
Command thy self, and then thou art right.

_Alin._ Command thy will: thy foul desires.
Put out and quench thy unhallowed fires:
Command thy mind, and make that pure;
Thou art wise then, valiant, and secure.
A blessing then thou maist beget.

_Jul._ A curse else that shall never set
Will light upon thee: Say thy Prayers,
Thou hast as many sins, as hairs.
Thou art a Captain, let thy men
Be honest, and good thoughts, and then
Thou maist command, and lead in chief,
Yet thou art bloody, and a thief.

_Rod._ What shall I do? I do confess.

_Alin._ Retire,
And purge thee perfect in his fire:
His life observe; live in his School,
And then thou shalt put off the fool.

_Jul._ Pray at _Segovia_ too, and give
Thy Offrings up, repent, and live. [_Musick within._

_Alin._ Away, away: enquire no more,
Do this, ye are rich, else fools, and poor;
What musick's this?

_Jul._ Retire? 'tis some neat Joy,
In honour of the Kings great day: they wonder,
This comes in right to confirm their reverence.
Away, away, let them admire, it makes
For our advantage: how the Captain shakes! [_Exit._

_Ped._ This was the Musick.

_Rod._ Yes, yes, how I sweat!
I was never so deserted; sure these woods
Are only inhabited with rare dreams, and wonders;
I would not be a knave again, a villain:
O how I loath it now: for these know all Sir,
And they would find me out.

_Ped._ They are excellent women,
Deep in their knowledge, friend.

_Rod._ I would not be traytor,
And have these of my Jury; how light I am,
And how my heart laughs now me thinks within me!
Now I am Catechiz'd, I would ever dwell here,
For here is a kind of Court of Reformation;
Had I been stubborn friend.

_Ped._ They would have found it.

_Rod._ And then they would have handled me a new way,
The Devils dump had been danced then.

_Ped._ Let's away
And do their great commands, and do 'em handsomely:
Contrite, and true, for I believe _Roderigo_,
And constantly believe, we shall be happy.

_Rod._ So you do well; fall edge or flat o' my side;
All I can stagger at is the Kings anger,
Which if it come, I am prepar'd to meet it.

_Ped._ The King has mercy, friend, as well as Justice:
And when you fall: no more--

_Rod._ I hope the fairest. [_Exeunt._

SCENE V.

_Enter Master_, Seberto, Curio.

_Cur._ We have told ye what he is: what time we have sought him:
His nature, and his name: the seeming Boy too
Ye had here, how, and what by your own relation,
All circumstances we have clear'd: That the Duke sent him
We told ye how impossible; he knows him not;
That he is mad himself, and therefore fit
To be your Prisoner, we dare swear against it.

_Seb._ Take heed Sir, be not madder than you would make him;
Though he be rash, and suddain (which is all his wildness)
Take heed ye wrong him not: he is a Gentleman,
And so must be restor'd and clear'd in all points;
The King shall be a Judge else.

_Cur._ 'Twas some trick
That brought him hither: the boy, and letter conterfeit,
Which shall appear, if ye dare now detain him.

_Mast._ I dare not Sir; nor will not: I believe ye,
And will restore him up: had I known sooner
H'ad been a neighbour, and the man you speak him,
(Though as I live, he carried a wild seeming)
My Service, and my self had both attended him.
How I have us'd him, let him speak.

_Seb._ Let's in, and visit him:
Then to the holy Temple: there pay our duties,
And so we'l take our leaves.

_Mast._ I'le wait upon you. [_Exeunt._

SCENE VI.

_An Altar prepar'd. Solemn Musick_.

_Enter Governour_, Verdugo, _Courtiers, Ladies, &c_.

Gov. _This to devotion sacred be,_
_This to the Kings prosperity,_
_This to the Queen, and Chastity._ [Musick.

Ver. _These Oblations first we bring_
_To purge our selves: These to the King._
_To love, and beautie these: now sing._ [Musick.

Ladies. _Holy Altar, daign to take_
_These for our selves: For the Kings sake_
_And honour these: These sacred lye_
_To Vertue, Love, and Modesty,_
_Our wishes to Eternity._ [Musick.

_Enter_ Pedro, _and_ Roderigo.

Ped. _For our selves first, thus we bend,_
_Forgive us heaven, and be our friend._

Rod. _And happy fortune to us send._

Ped. _To the King, honour, and all Joy,_
_Long, and happy from annoy._

Rod. _Prosperous be all his dayes_
_Every new hour, a new praise._

Ped. _Every minute thus be seen,_

Both. _And thousand honours Crown the Queen._ [Musick.

_Enter_ Alphonso, Curio, Seberto.

_Seb._ Come to the Altar: let us do our duties.

_Alph._ I have almost forgot a Church.

_Cur._ Kneel reverently.

Alph. _For my lost wits (let me see)_
_First I pray: and secondly_
_To be at home again, and free,_
_And if I travel more, hang me._
_For the King, and for the Queen,_
_That they may be wise, and seen_
_Never in the Mad-mans Inne._
_For my Daughter, I would pray_
_But she has made a holy-day,_
_And needs not my devotion now_
_Let her take her own course, Heaven,_
_Whether it be odd, or even,_ [Musick.

_Enter_ Alinda, _and_ Juletta, _like Shepheards_.

_And if that please not, take her you._

_Seb._ A short, and sweet Meditation: what are these here?

_Alin._ Hale to this sacred place.

_Jul._ They are all here, Madam:
No violence dare touch here; be secure:
My Bilbo Master too: how got he loose again?
How lamentably he looks! he has had discipline.
I dare not let him know my pranks.

_Seb._ 'Tis she sure.

_Cur._ 'Tis certainly.

_Ped._ Ha! do I dazel?

_Rod._ 'Tis the fair _Alinda_.

_Gov._ What wonder stand these strangers in?

_Rod._ Her woman by her.
The same Sir, as I live.

_Alph._ I had a Daughter,
With such a face once: such eyes and nose too,
Ha, let me see, 'tis wondrous like _Alinda_,
Their devotion ended, I'le mark 'em and nearer.
And she had a Filly that waited on her,
Just with such a favour:
Do they keep Goats now?

Alin. _Thus we kneel, and thus we pray_
_A happy honour to this day,_
_Thus our Sacrifice we bring_
_Ever happy to the King._

Jul. _These of Purple, Damask green_
_Sacred to the vertuous Queen_
_Here we hang._

Alin. _As these are now_
_Her glories ever spring, and show._
_These for our selves: our hopes, and loves,_
_Full of pinks, and Ladies gloves,_
_Of hearts-ease too, which we would fain_
_As we labour for, attain;_
_Hear me Heaven, and as I bend,_
_Full of hope, some comfort send._

Jul. _Hear her: hear her: if there be_ [Musick.
_A spotless Sweetness, this is she._

_Ped._ Now _Roderigo_ stand.

_Rod._ He that divides ye
Divides my life too.

_Gov. Pedro_, Noble _Pedro_,
Do not you know your friend?

_Ped._ I know, and honour ye.

_Gov._ Lady this leave I'le crave, pray be not angry,
I will not long divide you: how happy, _Pedro_,
Would all the court be now, might they behold thee?
Might they but see you thus, and thus embrace you?
The King will be a joyfull man believe it,
Most joyfull, _Pedro_.

_Ped._ I am his humble Servant.
Nay, good Sir, speak your will, I see you wonder, one easie
word from you--

_Alph._ I dare say nothing;
My tongue's a new tongue Sir, and knows his tither,
Let her do what she please, I dare do nothing,
I have been damn'd for doing, will the King know him?
That fellow there, will he respect and honour him?
He has been look'd upon they say: will he own him?

_Gov._ Yes certainly and grace him, ever honour him,
Restore him every way, he has much lamented him.

_Alp._ Is't your will too? this is the last time of asking.

_Rod._ I am sure, none else shall touch her, none else enjoy her.
If this, and this hold.

_Al._ You had best begin the game then, I have no title in her,
Pray take her, and dispatch her, and commend me to her,
And let me get me home, and hope I am sober:
Kiss, kiss, it must be thus: stand up _Alinda_,
I am the more child, and more need of blessing.
Ye had a waiting woman, one _Juletta_,
A pretty desperate thing, just such another
As this sweet Lady; we call'd her nimble chaps.
I pray is this the party?

_Jul._ No indeed Sir,
She is at home; I am a little Foot-Boy,
That walk a nights, and fright old Gentlemen;
Make 'em lose Hats and Cloaks.

_Alph._ And Horses too.

_Jul._ Sometimes I do Sir, teach 'em the way through ditches;
how to break their worships shins, and noses
Against old broken Stiles, and Stumps.

_Alph._ A fine art.
I feel it in my bones yet.

_Jul._ I am a Drum Sir,
A Drum at mid-night, ran tan tan tan tan Sir,
Do you take me for _Juletta_? I am a Page Sir,
That brought a letter from the Duke of _Medina_
To have one senior _Alphonso_, just such another
As your old worship, worm'd for running mad Sir.
Alas, you are mistaken.

_Alph._ Thou art the Devil,
And so thou hast used me.

_Jul._ I am any thing,
An old woman, that tells fortunes.

_Rod._ Ha.

_Jul._ And frights good people,
And sends them to _Segovia_ for their fortunes:
I am strange airs, and excellent sweet voyces.
I am any thing, to do her good, believe me;
She now recovered, and her wishes crown'd
I am _Juletta_ again, pray Sir forgive me,

_Alph._ I dare not do otherwise, for fear thou should'st still
follow me,
Prethee be forgiven, and I prethee forgive me too:
And if any of you will marry her.

_Jul._ No I beseech you Sir;
My Mistress is my husband, with her I'le dwell still,
And when you play any more pranks you know where to have me.

_Ped._ You know him Sir.

_Gov._ Know him, and much lament him:
The King's incens'd much, much Sir, I can assure you.

_Ped._ Noble Governour.

_Gov._ But since he is your friend, and now appears,
In honour of this day and love to you Sir:
I'le try the power I have, to the pinch I'le put it;
Here's my hand _Roderigo_, I'le set you fair again.

_Rod._ And here's mine, to be true, and full of service.

_Gov._ Your people too, shall have their general pardons,
We'l have all peace and love.

_Rod._ All shall pray for you.

_Gov._ To my house now, and suite you to your worths;
Off with these weeds, and appear glorious:
Then to the Priest, that shall attend us here,
And this be stil'd Loves new and happy year.

_Rod._ The Kings and Queens, two noble honours meet,
To grace this day, two true loves at their feet.

_Alph._ Well well, since wedding will come after wooing,
Give me some Rose-Mary, and let's be going. [_Exeunt._

THE CAPTAIN. A COMEDY.

* * * * *

Persons Represented in the Play.

Julio, _a noble Gentleman, in Love with_ Lelia.

Angelo, _a Gentleman, friend to_ Juli[o].

Lodovico, } _two Cowardly Gulls_.
Piso, }

Frederick, _a Gentleman, Brother to_ Frank.

Jacomo, _an angry Captain, a Woman-hater_.

Fabritio, _a merry Souldier, friend to_ Jacomo.

Lelia's _Father, an old poor Gentleman_.

_Host._

_Vintner._

_Drawers._

_Servants_.

_WOMEN._

Frank, _Sister to_ Frederick, _a Lady passionately in love with_ Jacomo.

Cl[o]ra, _Sister to_ Fabritio, _a witty companion to_ Frank.

Lelia, _a cunning wanton Widow_.

_Waiting-woman._

_Maid Servants._

* * * * *

_The Scene_ Venice, Spain.

* * * * *

The principal Actors were,

_Richard Burbadge._
_Henry Condel._
_William Ostler._
_Alexander Cooke._

_Actus Primus. Scena Prima._

_Enter_ Lodovico, _and_ Piso.

_Lodovico._ The truth is, _Piso_, so she be a woman
And rich and wholsome, let her be of what
Condition and Complexion it please,
She shall please me I am sure; Those men are fools
That make their eyes their choosers, not their needs.

_Piso._ Me thinks I would have her honest too, and handsom.

_Lod._ Yes if I could have both, but since they are
Wishes so near impossibilities,
Let me have that that may be.

_Piso._ If it were so,
I hope your conscience would not be so nice
To start at such a blessing.

_Lod._ No believe me,
I do not think I should.

_Piso._ But thou would'st be
I do not doubt upon the least suspicion
Unmercifully jealous.

_Lod._ No I should not,
For I believe those mad that seek vexations.
A Wife, though she be honest, is a trouble,
Had I a Wife as fair as _Hellen_ was
That drew so many Cuckolds to her cause,
These eyes should see another in my Saddle
Ere I believe my beast would carry double.

_Piso._ So should not I by'our Lady, and I think
My patience (by your leave) as good as yours,
Report would stir me mainly, I am sure on't.

_Lod._ Report? You are unwise; report is nothing;
For if there were a truth in what men talk,
I mean of this kind, this part of the world
I am sure would be no more call'd _Christendom_.

_Piso._ What then?

_Lod._ Why _Cuckoldom_, for we should lose
Our old faiths clean, and hold their new opinions:
If talk could make me sweat, before I would marry
I'd tie a surer knot, and hang my self;
I tell thee there was never woman yet,
(Nor never hope there shall be) though a Saint,
But she has been a subject to mens tongues,
And in the worse sense: and that desperate Husband,
That dares give up his peace, and follow humours
(Which he shall find too busie, if he seek 'em)
Besides the forcing of himself an Ass
He dyes in chains, eating himself with anger.

_Piso._ Having these Antidotes against opinion
I would marry any one; an arrant Whore.

_Lod._ Thou dost not feel the nature of this Physick
Which I prescribe not to beget diseases,
But where they are, to stop them.

_Piso._ I conceive ye:
What thinkest thou, thy way, of the widow _Lelia_?

_Lod._ Faith thou hast found out one I must confess
Would stagger my best patience: From that woman
As I would bless my self from plagues and surfeits,
From Men of war at Sea, from storms, and quicksands,
From hearing Treason and concealing it,
From daring of a Madman, or a Drunkard,
From Heresie, ill Wine, and stumbling post Horse;
So would I pray each morning, and each night
(And if I said each hour, I should not lye)
To be delivered of all these in one,
The woman thou hast named.

_Enter_ Julio, Angelo, _and Father_.

_Piso._ Thou hast set her in a pretty Litany.

_Ang._ Pray take my counsel.

_Jul._ When I am my self
I'le hear you any way; love me though thus
As thou art honest, which I dare not be
Lest I despise my self. Farewel. [_Exit_ Julio.

_Piso._ Do you hear my friend: Sir, are you not a setter,
For the fair widow here of famous memory?

_Fa._ Ha? am I taken for a Bawd? Oh Heaven!
To mine own child too? misery, I thank thee
That keepst me from their knowledge: Sir, believe me
I understand ye not.

_Lod._ You love plain dealing.
Are you not parcel Bawd? confess your Function,
It may be we would use it.

_Fa._ Were she worse,
As I fear strangely she is ill enough,
I would not hear this tamely.

_Piso._ Here's a shilling
To strike good luck withal.

_Fa._ Here's a Sword, Sir,
To strike a Knave withal, thou lyest, and basely,
Be what thou wilt.

_Ang._ Why how now Gentlemen?

_Fa._ You are many: I shall meet you, Sir, again,
And make you understand, y'have wrong'd a Woman
Compar'd with whom thy Mother was a sinner. Farewel. [_Exit_ Father.

_Piso._ He has amazed me.

_Ang._ With a blow?
By'r Lady 'twas a sound one; are ye good
At taking knocks? I shall know you hereafter:
You were to blame to tempt a man so far
Before you knew him certain: h'as not hurt ye?

_Piso._ No I think.

_Lod._ We were to blame indeed to go so far,
For men may be mistaken: if he had swinged us
H'had serv'd us right: Beshrew my heart, I think,
We have done the Gentlewoman as much wrong too,
For hang me if I know her
In my particular.

_Piso._ Nor I; this 'tis to credit
Mens idle tongues; I warrant they have said
As much by our two Mothers.

_Lod._ Like enough.

_Ang._ I see a beating now and then does more
Move and stir up a mans contrition
Than a sharp Sermon, here _probatum est_.

_Enter_ Frederick, _and Servant_.

_Ser._ What shall I tell your Sister?

_Fred._ Tell her this,
Till she be better conversation'd
And leave her walking by her self, and whining
To her old melancholy Lute, I'le keep
As far from her as the Gallows. [_Exit Servant._

_Ang._ Who's that, _Frederick_?

_Fred._ Yes marry is't. O _Angelo_ how dost thou?

_Ang._ Save you Sir, how does my Mistris?

_Fred._ She is in love I think, but not with you
I can assure you: saw ye _Fabritio_?

_Ang._ Is he come over?

_Fred._ Yes a week ago: Shall we dine?

_Ang._ I cannot.

_Fred._ Prethee do.

_Ang._ Believe me I have business.

_Fred._ Have you too, Gentlemen?

_Piso._ No Sir.

_Fred._ Why then let's dine together.

_Lod._ With all my heart.

_Fred._ Go then: Farewel good _Angelo_,
Commend me to your friend.

_Ang._ I will. [_Exeunt._

SCENE II.

_Enter_ Frank, _and_ Clora.

_Clo._ Do not dissemble _Frank_, mine eyes are quicker
Than such observers, that do ground their faith
Upon one smile or tear; y'are much alter'd,
And are as empty of those excellencies
That were companions to you; I mean mirth
And free disposure of your blood and Spirit,
As you were born a mourner.

_Fran._ How I prethee?
For I perceive no such change in my self.

_Clo._ Come, come, this is not wise, nor provident
To halt before a Cripple: if you love,
Be liberal to your friend, and let her know it,
I see the way you run, and know how tedious
'Twill prove without a true companion.

_Fran._ Sure thou wouldst have me love.

_Clo._ Yes marry would I,
I should not please ye else.

_Fran._ And who for Heavens sake?
For I assure my self, I know not yet:
And prethee _Clora_, since thou'lt have it so
That I must love, and do I know not what:
Let him be held a pretty handsome fellow,
And young, and if he be a little valiant
'Twill be the better; and a little wise,
And faith a little honest.

_Clor._ Well I will sound ye yet for all your craft.

_Fran._ Heigh ho! I'le love no more.

_Clo._ Than one; and him
You shall love _Frank_.

_Fran._ Which him? thou art so wise
People will take thee shortly for a Witch:
But prethee tell me _Clora_, if I were
So mad as thou wouldst make me, what kind of man
Wouldst thou imagine him?

_Clo._ Faith some pretty fellow,
With a clean strength, that cracks a cudgel well
And dances at a Wake, and plays at Nine-holes.

_Fran._ O what pretty commendations thou hast given him!
Faith if I were in love as I thank Heaven
I do not think I am; this short _Epistle_
Before my love would make me burn the _Legend_.

_Clor._ You are too wild, I mean some Gentleman.

_Fran._ So do not I, till I can know 'em wiser:
Some Gentleman? no _Clora_, till some Gentleman
Keep some land, and fewer whores, believe me
I'le keep no love for him, I do not long
To go a foot yet, and solicite causes.

_Clor._ What think you then of an adventurer?
I mean some wealthy Merchant.

_Fran._ Let him venture
In some decai'd Ware, or Carack of his own: he shall not
Rig me out, that's the short on't; out upon't:
What young thing of my years would endure
To have her Husband in another Country
Within a month after she is married
Chopping for rotten Raisins, and lye pining
At home under the mercy of his fore-man? no,
Though they be wealthy, and indifferent wise
I do not see that I am bound to love 'em.

_Clo._ I see ye are hard to please; yet I will please ye.

_Fran._ Faith not so hard neither, if considered
What woman may deserve as she is worthy:
But why do we bestow our time so idlely?
Prethee let us entertain some other talk,
This is as sickly to me as faint weather.

_Clor._ Now I believe I shall content you _Frank_,
What think you of a Courtier?

_Fran._ Faith so ill,
That if I should be full, and speak but truth,
'Twould shew as if I wanted charity,
Prethee good wench let me not rail upon 'em,
Yet I have an excellent stomach, and must do it;
I have no mercy of these Infidels
Since I am put in mind on't, good wench bear with me.

_Clo._ Can no man fit you? I will find him out.

_Fran._ This Summer fruit, that you call Courtier,
While you continue cold and frosty to him
Hangs fast, and may be found: but when you fling
Too full a heat of your affections
Upon his root, and make him ripe too soon,
You'll find him rotten i'th' handling;
His oaths and affections are all one
With his apparel, things to set him off,
He has as many Mistrisses as Faiths,
And all _Apocrypha_; his true belief
Is only in a private Surgion,
And for my single self, I'd sooner venture
A new conversion of the _Indies_,
Than to make Courtiers able men, or honest.

_Clo._ I do believe you love no Courtier,
And by my troth to ghess you into love
With any I can think of, is beyond
Either your will, or my imagination.
And yet I am sure y'are caught: and I will know him.
There's none left now worthy the thinking of,
Unless it be a Souldier, and I am sure,
I would ever bless my self from such a fellow.

_Fran._ Why prethee?

_Clo._ Out upon 'em fire-locks,
They are nothing i'th' world but Buff and Scarlet,
Tough unhewn pieces, to hack swords upon;
I had as lieve be courted by a Cannon,
As one of those.

_Fran._ Thou art too malicious,
Upon my faith me thinks they're worthy men.

_Clo._ Say ye so? I'le pull ye on a little further.
What worth can be in those men, whose profession
Is nothing i'th' world but drink and damn me,
Out of whose violence they are possest
With legions of unwholsome whores and quarrels;
I am of that opinion, and will dye in't,
There is no understanding, nor can be
In a soust Souldier.

_Fran._ Now 'tis ignorance
I easily perceive that thus provokes thee,
And not the love of truth; I'le lay my life
If thou'dst been made a man, thou hadst been a coward.

_Clo._ If to be valiant, be to be a Souldier; I'le tell ye true,
I had rather be a Coward, I am sure with less sin.

_Fra._ This Heresie must be look'd to in time: for if it spread
'Twill grow too Pestilent; were I a Scholar
I would so hamper thee for thy opinion,
That ere I left, I would write thee out of credit
With all the world, and make thee not believ'd
Even in indifferent things; that I would leave thee
A reprobate out of the state of honour.
By all good things, thou hast flung aspersions
So like a fool (for I am angry with thee)
Upon a sort of men, that let me tell thee
Thy mothers mother would have been a Saint
Had she conceiv'd a Souldier; they are people
(I may commend 'em, while I speak but truth)
Of all the old world, only left to keep
Man as he was, valiant and vertuous.
They are the model of those men, whose honours
We heave our hands at when we hear recited.

_Clo._ They are, and I have all I sought for, 'tis a souldier
You love, hide it no longer; you have betray'd your self;
Come, I have found your way of commendations,
And what I said, was but to pull it from ye.

_Fran._ 'Twas pretty, are you grown so cunning, _Clora_?
I grant I love a souldier; But what souldier
Will be a new task to ye? But all this
I do imagine was but laid to draw me
Out of my melancholy.

_Clo._ I will have the man
Ere I forsake ye.

_Fran._ I must to my Chamber.

_Clo._ May not I go along?

_Fran._ Yes, but good wench
Move me no more with these fond questions,
They work like Rhubarb with me.

_Clo._ Well, I will not. [_Exeunt._

SCENE III.

_Enter_ Lelia _and her Waiting-woman_.

_Lel._ How now? who was that you staid to speak withal.

_Wom._ The old man forsooth.

_Lei._ What old man?

_Wom._ The poor old man that uses to come hither, he that you
call Father.

_Lel._ Have you dispatched him?

_Wom._ No; he would fain speak with you.

_Lel._ Wilt thou never learn more manners,
Than to draw in such needy Rascals to disquiet me?
Go, answer him I will not be at leasure.

_Wom._ He will needs speak with you; and good old man he weeps so,
That by my troth I have not the heart to deny him,
Pray let him speak with you.

_Lel._ Lord how tender stomach'd you are grown of late!
You are not in love with him, are ye?
If ye be, strike up the match; you shall have
Three l. and a pair of blankets! will ye go answer him?

_Wom._ Pray let him speak with you, he will not away else.

_Lel._ Well, let him in then if there be no remedy; I thank Heaven I am
Able to abuse him, I shall ne'r come clear else of him.

_Enter Father._

Now Sir, what is your business? pray be short; for I have other
Matters of more moment to call me from ye.

_Fa._ If you but look upon me like a Daughter
And keep that love about ye that makes good
A Fathers hope, you'l quickly find my business,
And what I would say to you, and before
I ask, will be a giver: say that sleep,
I mean that love, or be but num'd within ye,
The nature of my want is such a searcher,
And of so mighty power, that where he finds
This dead forgetfulness, it works so strongly,
That if the least heat of a childs affection
Remain unperish'd, like another nature,
It makes all new again; pray do not scorn me,
Nor seem to make your self a greater business
Than my relieving.

_Lel._ If you were not old
I should laugh at ye; what a vengeance ails ye
To be so childish to imagine me
A founder of old fellows? make him drink, wench,
And if there be any cold meat in the Buttery,
Give him some broken bread, and that, and rid him.

_Fa._ Is this a childs love? or a recompence
Fit for a Fathers care? O _Lelia_,
Had I been thus unkind, thou hadst not been;
Or like me miserable: But 'tis impossible
Nature should dye so utterly within thee,
And lose her promises; thou art one of those
She set her stamp more excellently on,
Than common people, as fore-telling thee,
A general example of her goodness;
Or say she could lye, yet Religion
(For love to Parents is Religious)
Would lead thee right again: Look well upon me,
I am the root that gave thee nourishment,
And made thee spring fair, do not let me perish
Now I am old and sapless.

_Lelia._ As I live
I like ye far worse now ye grow thus holy,
I grant you are my Father; am I therefore
Bound to consume my self, and be a Beggar
Still in relieving you? I do not feel
Any such mad compassion yet within me.

_Fa._ I gave up all my state to make yours thus.

_Lel._ 'Twas as ye ought to do, and now ye cry for't
As children do for babies back again.

_Fath._ How wouldst thou have me live?

_Lel._ I would not have ye,
Nor know no reason Fathers should desire
To live, and be a trouble, when children
Are able to inherit, let them dye,
'Tis fit, and lookt for, that they should do so.

_Fa._ Is this your comfort?

_Lel._ All that I feel yet.

_Fa._ I will not curse thee.

_Lel._ If you do I care not.

_Fa._ Pray you give me leave to weep.

_Lel._ Why pray take leave,
If it be for your ease.

_Fa._ Thy Mother dyed,
Sweet peace be with her, in a happy time.

_Lel._ She did, Sir, as she ought to do, would you
Would take the pains to follow; what should you,
Or any old man do wearing away
In this world with Diseases, and desire
Only to live to make their Children scourge-sticks,
And hoard up mill-mony? me thinks a Marble
Lyes quieter upon an old mans head
Than a cold fit o'th' Palsey.

_Fa._ O good Heaven!
To what an impudence thou wretched woman,
Hast thou begot thy self again! well, justice
Will punish disobedience.

_Lel._ You mistake, Sir;
'Twill punish Beggars, fye for shame go work,
Or serve, you are grave enough to be a Porter
In some good man of worships house, and give
Sententious answers to the comers in.
A pretty place; or be of some good Consort,
You had a pleasant touch o'th' _Cittern_ once,
If idleness have not bereft you of it:
Be any thing but old and Beggarly,
Two sins that ever do outgrow compassion;
If I might see you offer at a course
That were a likely one, and shew'd some profit,
I would not stick for ten Groats, or a Noble.

_Fath._ Did I beget this woman?

_Lel._ Nay, I know not:
And till I know, I will not thank you for't;
How ever, he that got me had the pleasure,
And that me thinks, is a reward sufficient.

_Fath._ I am so strangely strucken with amazement,
I know not where I am, nor what I am.

_Lel._ You had best take fresh air some where else, 'twill bring ye
Out of your trance the sooner.

_Fath._ Is all this
As you mean, _Lelia_?

_Lel._ Yes believe me is it,
For yet I cannot think you are so foolish,
As to imagine you are young enough
To be my heir, or I so old to make
A Nurse at these years for you, and attend
While you sup up my state in penny pots
Of _Malmsey_: when I am excellent at Cawdles,
And Cullices, and have enough spare gold
To boil away, you shall be welcome to me;
'Till when I'd have you be as merry, Sir,
As you can make your self with that you have,
And leave to trouble me with these relations,
Of what you have been to me, or you are,
For as I hear them, so I lose them; this
For [a]ught I know yet, is my resolution.

_Fath._ Well, God be with thee, for I fear thy end
Will be a strange example. [_Exit Father._

_Lel._ Fare ye well, Sir;
Now would some poor tender hearted fool have wept,
Relented, and have been undone: such Children
(I thank my understanding) I hate truly,
For by my troth I had rather see their tears
Than feel their pities: my desires and ends
Are all the Kindred that I have, and friends.

_Enter Woman._

Is he departed?

_Wom._ Yes, but here's another.

_Lel._ Not of his tribe I hope; bring me no more
I would wish you such as he is; if thou seest
They look like men of worth, and state, and carry
Ballast of both sides like tall Gentlemen
Admit 'em, but no snakes to poyson us
With poverty; wench you must learn a wise rule,
Look not upon the youths of men, and making,
How they descend in bloud, nor let their tongues,
Though they strike suddainly, and sweet as musick
Corrupt thy fancy: see, and say them fair too,
But ever keep thy self without their distance,
Unless the love thou swallow be a pill
Gilded to hide the bitterness it brings,
Then fall on without fear, wench, yet so wisely
That one encounter cloy him not; nor promise
His love hath made thee more his, than his monies;
Learn this and thrive,
Then let thine honour ever
(For that's the last rule) be so stood upon,
That men may fairly see
'Tis want of means, not vertue makes thee fall;
And if you weep 'twill be a great deal better,
And draw on more compassion, which includes
A greater tenderness of love and bounty:
This is enough at once, digest it well:
Go let him in wench, if he promise profit,
Not else.

_Enter_ Julio.

O you are welcome my fair Servant,
Upon my troth I have been longing for ye.

_Wom._ This, by her rule, should be a liberal man,
I see the best on's may learn every day.

_Lel._ There's none come with you?

_Jul._ No.

_Lel._ You do the wiser,
For some that have been here (I name no man)
Out of their malice, more than truth, have done me
Some few ill offices.

_Jul._ How, Sweet?

_Lel._ Nay, nothing,
Only have talkt a little wildly of me;
As their unruly Youth directed 'em;
Which though they bite me not, I would have wisht
Had light upon some other that deserv'd 'em.

_Jul._ Though she deserve this of the loosest tongue
(Which makes my sin the more) I must not see it;
Such is my misery. I would I knew him.

_Lel._ No, no, let him go,
He is not worth your anger; I must chide you
For being such a stranger to your Mistriss,
Why would you be so, Servant?

_Jul._ I should chide,
If chiding would work any thing upon you,
For being such a stranger to your Servant,
I mean to his desires; when, my dear Mistress,
Shall I be made a happy man?

_Lel._ Fye, Servant,
What do you mean? unhand me, or, by Heav'n,
I shall be very angry, this is rudeness.

_Jul._ 'Twas but a kiss or two, that thus offends you.

_Lel._ 'Twas more I think, than you have warrant for.

_Jul._ I am sorry I deserv'd no more.