Chapter VIII: Part 8

_Boy._ Well sir, he shall come out, but if our Play miscarry,
Sir you are like to pay for't. [_Exit._

_Cit._ Bring him away then.

_Wife._ This will be brave i'faith: _George_ shall not he dance
the Morrice too for the credit of the Strand.

_Cit._ No sweet-heart it will be too much for the boy. O there
he is _Nell_, he's reasonable well in reparel, but he has not
Rings enough.

_Enter_ Rafe.

Rafe. London, _to thee I do present the merry Month of May,_
_Let each true Subject be content to hear me what I say:_
_For from the top of Conduit head, as plainly may appear,_
_I will both tell my name to you, and wherefore I came here._
_My name is_ Rafe, _by due descent, though not ignoble I,_
_Yet far inferiour to the flock of gracious Grocery._
_And by the Common-counsel of my fellows in the Strand,_
_With gilded Staff, and crossed Skarfe, the May-lord here I stand._
_Rejoyce O English hearts, rejoyce, rejoyce O Lovers dear;_
_Rejoyce O City, Town, and Countrey, rejoyce eke every Shire;_
_For now the [fr]agrant flowers do spring and sprout in seemly sort,_
_The little Birds do sit and sing, the Lambs do make fine sport,_
_And now the Burchin Tree doth bud that makes the Schoolboy cry,_
_The Morrice rings while Hobby horse doth foot it featuously:_
_The Lords and Ladies now abroad for their disport and play,_
_Do kiss sometimes upon the Grass, and sometimes in the Hay._
_Now butter with a leaf of Sage is good to purge the blood,_
_Fly_ Venus _and Phlebotomy for they are neither good._
_Now little fish on tender stone, begin to cast their bellies,_
_And sluggish snails, that erst were mute, do creep out of
their shellies,_
_The rumbling Rivers now do warm for little boys to paddle,_
_The Sturdy Steed, now goes to grass, and up they hang his saddle._
_The heavy Hart, the blowing Buck, the Rascall and the Pricket,_
_Are now among the Yeomans Pease, and leave the fearful thicket._
_And be like them, O you, I say, of this same noble Town,_
_And lift aloft your velvet heads, and slipping of your gown:_
_With bels on legs, and napkins clean unto your shoulders ti'de,_
_With Scarfs and Garters as you please, and Hey for our Town cry'd:_
_March out and shew your willing minds, by twenty, and by twenty,_
_To_ Hogsdon _or to_ Newington, _where Ale and Cakes are plenty._
_And let it nere be said for shame, that we the youths of_ London,
_Lay thruming of our caps at home, and left our custom undone._
_Up then I say, both young and old, both man and maid a Maying_
_With Drums and Guns that bounce aloud, and merry Taber playing._
_Which to prolong, God save our King, and send his Countrey peace,_
_And root out Treason from the Land, and so my friends I cease._

Finis Act. 4.

_Actus Quintus. Scæna Prima._

_Enter Merchant solus._

_Merch._ I will have no great store of company at the wedding,
a couple of neighbors and their wives, and we will have a Capon
in stewed broth, with marrow, and a good piece of beef, stuck
with Rose-mary.

_Enter_ Jasper[,] _his face mealed_.

_Jasp._ Forbear thy pains fond man, it is too late.

_Merch._ Heaven bless me: _Jasper_?

_Jasp._ I, I am his Ghost
Whom thou hast injur'd for his constant love:
Fond worldly wretch, who dost not understand
In death that true hearts cannot parted be.
First know thy daughter is quite born away,
On wings o[f] Angels: through the liquid Ayre
Too far out of thy reach, and never more
Shalt thou behold her face: But she and I
Will in another world enjoy our loves,
Where neither fathers anger, poverty,
Nor any cross that troubles earthly men
Shall make us sever our united hearts,
And never shall thou sit, or be alone
In any place, but I will visit thee
With gastly looks, and put into thy mind
The great offences which thou didst to me.
When thou art at thy Table with thy friends,
Merry in heart, and fild with swelling wine,
I'll come in midst of all thy pride and mirth,
Invisible to all men but thy self,
And whisper such a sad tale in thine ear,
Shall make thee let the Cup fall from thy hand,
And stand as mute and pale as Death itself.

_Merch._ Forgive me _Jasper_; Oh! what might I do?
Tell me to satisfie thy troubled Ghost?

_Jasp._ There is no means, too late thou thinkst on this.

_Mer._ But tell me what were best for me to do?

_Jasp._ Repent thy deed, and satisfie my father,
And beat fond _Humphrey_ out of thy doors. [_Exit Jasp._

_Enter_ Humphrey.

_Wife._ Look _George_, his very Ghost would have folks beaten.

_Hum._ Father, my bride is gone, fair Mistris _Luce_,
My soul's the font of vengeance, mischiefs sluce.

_Mer._ Hence fool out of my sight, with thy fond passion,
Thou hast undone me.

_Hum._ Hold my father dear,
For _Luce_ thy daughters sake, that had no peer.

_Mer._ Thy father fool? there's some blows more, begon.
_Jasper_, I hope thy Ghost be well appeased,
To see thy will perform'd, now [will I] go
To satisfie thy father for thy wrongs. [_Exit._

_Hum._ What shall I do? I have been beaten twice.
And Mistris _Luce_ is gone? help me device:
Since my true-love is gone, I never more,
Whilst I do live, upon the Skie will pore;
But in the dark will wear out my shoo-soles
In passion, in Saint _Faiths_ Church under _Pauls_. [_Exit._

_Wife. George_ call _Rafe_ hither, if you love me call _Rafe_
hither, I have the bravest thing for him to do _George_;
prethee, call him quickly.

_Cit. Rafe_, why _Rafe_ boy.

_Enter_ Rafe.

_Rafe._ Here Sir.

_Cit._ Come hither _Rafe_, come to thy Mistris Boy.

_Wife. Rafe_ I would have thee call all the youths together
in battle-ray, with Drums, and Guns, and flags, and march to
_Mile-end_ in pompous fashion, and there exhort your Souldiers
to be merry and wise, and to keep their beards from burning
_Rafe_, and then skirmish, and let your flags fly, and cry,
kill, kill, kill: my husband shall lend you his Jerkin _Rafe_,
and there's a Scarfe; for the rest, the house shall furnish
you, and we'll pay for't: do it bravely _Rafe_, and think
before whom you perform, and what person you represent.

_Rafe._ I warrant you Mistress, if I do it not, for the honor
of the City, and the credit of my Master, let me never hope for
freedome.

_Wife._ 'Tis well spoken i'faith; go thy waies, thou art a
spark indeed.

_Cit. Ralph_, double your files bravely _Ralph_.

_Ralph._ I warrant you Sir. [_Exit_ Ralph.

_Cit._ Let him look narrowly to his service, I shall take him
else; I was there my self a Pike-man once, in the hottest
of the day, wench, had my feather shot sh[eere] away, the
fringe of my pike burnt off with powder, my pate broken with a
scouring-stick, and yet I thank God I am here. [_Drum within._

_Wife._ Hark _George_, the Drums.

_Cit._ Ran, tan; tan, tan, ran, tan: Oh wench an thou hadst but
seen little _Ned_ of _Aldgate_, drum _Ned_, how he made it roar
again, and laid on like a tyrant: and then struck softly till
the Ward came up, and then thundred again, and together we go:
sa, sa, sa, bounce quoth the Guns: courage my hearts, quoth the
Captains: Saint _George_, quoth the pike-men; and withal here
they lay, and there they lay; And yet for all this I am here
wench.

_Wife._ Be thankful for it _George_, for indeed 'tis wonderful.

* * * * *

_Enter_ Ralph _and his company with Drums and Colours_.

_Ralph._ March fair my hearts; Lieutenant beat the rear up:
Ancient let your Colours flie; but have a great care of the
Butchers hooks at _White-Chappel_, they have been the death of
many a fair Ancient. Open your files, that I may take a view
both of your persons and munition: Serjeant call a Muster.

_Serg._ A stand, _William Hamerton_ Pewterer.

_Ham._ Here Captain.

_Ralph._ A Corslet and a Spanish Pike; 'tis well, can you shake
it with a terror?

_Ham._ I hope so Captain.

_Ralph._ Charge upon me, 'tis with the weakest: put more
strength _William Hamerton_, more strength: as you were again;
proceed Serjeant.

_Serj. George Green-goose_, Poulterer.

_Green._ Here.

_Ralph._ Let me see your Peece, neighbor _Green-goose_, when
was she shot in?

_Green._ And like you master Captain, I made a shot even now,
partly to scour her, and partly for audacity.

_Ralph._ It should seem so certainly, for her breath is yet
inflamed: besides, there is a main fault in the touch-hole, it
runs and stinketh; and I tell you moreover, and believe it.
Ten such touch-holes would breed the Pox in the Army. Get you
a Feather, neighbor, get you a Feather, sweet Oil, and Paper,
and your Peece may do well enough yet. Where's your Powder?

_Green._ Here.

_Ralph._ What in a Paper? As I am a Soldier and a Gentleman, it
craves a Martial Court: you ought to die for't. Where's your
horn? answer me to that.

_Green._ An't like you Sir, I was oblivious.

_Ralph._ It likes me not it should be so; 'tis a shame for you,
and a scandal to all our Neighbors, being a man of worth and
estimation, to leave your horn behind you: I am afraid 'twill
breed example. But let me tell you no more on't; stand, till I
view you all. What's become o'th' nose of your flaske?

_1 Sold._ Indeed law Captain, 'twas blown away with powder.

_Ralph._ Put on a new one at the Cities Charge. Where's the
stone of this Peece?

_2 Sold._ The Drummer took it out to light Tobacco.

_Ralph._ 'Tis a fault my friend, put it in again: you want
a Nose, and you a Stone; Serjeant, take a note on't, for I
mean to stop it in the pay. Remove and march, soft and fair
Gentlemen; soft and fair: double and files, as you were, faces
about. Now you with the sodden face, keep in there: look to
your Match sirrah, it will be in your fellows flask anon. So
make a Crescent now, advance your Pikes, stand and give ear,
Gentlemen, Countrey-men, Friends, and my fellow-Soldiers, I
have brought you this day from the Shop[s] of Security, and the
Counters of Content, to measure out in these furious fields,
Honor by the ell, and Prowess by the pound: Let it not, O let
it not, I say, be told hereafter, the noble issue of this City
fainted: but bear your selves in this fair action, like men,
valiant men, and free men: Fear not the face of the enemy:
nor the noise of the Guns: for believe me brethren, the rude
rumbling of a Brewers Carr is [farre] more terrible, of which
you have a daily experience: Neither let the stink of Powder
offend you, since a more valiant stink is nightly with you.
To a resolved mind, his home is every where: I speak not this
to take away the hope of your return; for you shall see (I do
not doubt it) and that very shortly, your loving wives again,
and your sweet children, whose care doth bear you company in
baskets. Remember then whose cause you have in hand, and like
a sort of true-born Scavengers, scour me this famous Realm
of enemies. I have no more to say but this: Stand to your
tacklings lads, and shew to the world, you can as well brandish
a sword, as shake an Apron. Saint _George_, and on my hearts.

_Omnes._ Saint _George_, Saint _George_. [_Exeunt._

_Wife._ 'Twas well done _Ralph_, I'll send thee a cold Capon a
field, and a bottle of March-beer; and, it may be, come my self
to see thee.

_Cit. Nel_, the boy hath deceiv'd me much, I did not think it
had been in him: he has perform'd such a matter wench, that if
I live, next year I'll have him Captain of the Gallifoist, or
I'll want my Will.

_Enter Old_ Merry-thought.

_Old Mer._ Yet I thank God, I break not a rinkle more than I
had, not a stoop boys: _Care_ live with Cats, I defie thee, my
heart is as sound as an Oak; and though I want drink to wet my
whistle, I can sing.

_Come no more there boys, come no more there:_
_For we shall never whilst we live, come any more there._

_Enter a Boy with a Coffin._

_Boy._ God save you Sir.

_Old Mer._ It's a brave Boy: can'st thou sing?

_Boy._ Yes Sir, I can sing, but 'tis not so necessary at this
time.

_Old Mer._ Sing we, and chaunt it, whilst love doth grant it.

_Boy._ Sir, Sir, if you knew what I have brought you, you would
have little list to sing.

_Old Mer._ Oh the Mimon round, full long [long] I have thee sought.
And now I have thee found, and what hast thou here brought?

_Boy._ A Coffin, Sir, and your dead Son _Jasper_ in it.

_Old Mer._ Dead? why farewell he:
Thou wast a bonny boy, and I did love thee.

_Enter_ Jasper.

_Jasp._ Then I pray you Sir, do so still.

_Old Mer. Jasper_'s Ghost? thou art welcome from _Stygian
lake_ so soon,
Declare to me what wondrous things in _Pluto_'s court are done.

_Jasp._ By my troth sir, I ne'r came there, 'tis too hot for me Sir.

_Old Mer._ A merry Ghost, a very merry Ghost.
And where is your true love? Oh where is yours?

_Jasp._ Marry look you Sir. [_Heaves up the Coffin._

_Old Mer._ Ah ha! Art thou good at that i' faith?
With hey trixie terlerie-whiskin, the world it runs on wheels.
When the young mans ---- up goes the Maidens heels.

_Mistriss_ Merry-thought _and_ Michael _within_.

_Mist. Mer._ What Mr. _Merri-thought_, will you not let's in?
what do you think shall become of us?

_[Old] Mer._ What voice is that that calleth at our door?

_Mist. Mer._ You know me well enough, I am sure I have not been
such a stranger to you.

_Old Mer._ And some they whistled, and some they sung, _Hey
down, down_: and some did loudly say, ever as the Lord
_Barnets_ horn blew, _Away Musgrave away_.

_Mist. Mer._ You will not have us starve here, will you Master
_Merry-thought_?

_Jasp._ Nay, good Sir be perswaded, she is my Mother: if
her offences have been great against you, let your own love
remember she is yours, and so forgive her.

_Luce._ Good master _Merry-thought_, let me intreat you, I will
not be denied.

_Mist. Mer._ Why Master _Merry-thought_, will you be a vext
thing still?

_Old Mer._ Woman I take you to my love again, but you shall
sing before you enter: therefore dispatch your song, and so
come in.

_Mist. Mer._ Well, you must have your Will when all's done,
_Mich._ what song canst thou sing Boy?

_Mich._ I can sing none forsooth, but a Ladies Daughter of
_Paris_ properly.

_Mich. Mer. Song. It was a Ladies Daughter_, &c.

_Old Mer._ Come, you're welcome home again.
If such danger be in playing, and jest must to earnest turn,
You shall go no more a Maying.

_Merch. within._ Are you within Sir, Master _Merry-thought_?

_Jasp._ It is my Masters voice, good Sir, go hold him [in] talk
whilst we convey ourselves into some inward room.

_Old Mer._ What are you? are you merry? you must be very merry
if you enter.

_Mer._ I am Sir.

_Old Mer._ Sing then.

_Mer._ Nay, good Sir open to me.

_Old Mer._ Sing, I say, or by the merry heart, you come not in.

_Mer._ Well Sir, I'll sing.

_Fortune my foe_, &c.

_Old Mer._ You are welcome Sir, you are welcome: you see your
entertainment, pray you be merry.

_Mer._ Oh Master _Merry-thought_, I am come to aske you
Forgiveness for the wrongs I offered you,
And your most virtuous Son, they're infinite,
Yet my contrition shall be more than they.
I do confess my hardness broke his heart.
For which just heaven hath given me punishment
More than my age can carry, his wandring spirit
Not yet at rest, pursues me every where,
Crying, I'll haunt thee for thy cruelty.
My Daughter she is gone, I know not how,
Taken invisible, and whether living,
Or in grave, 'tis yet uncertain to me.
Oh Master _Merry-thought_, these are the Weights,
Will sink me to my grave, forgive me Sir.

_Old Mer._ Why Sir, I do forgive you, and be merry.
And if the wag in's life time, plaid the knave,
Can you forgive him too?

_Mer._ With all my heart Sir.

_Old Mer._ Speak it again, and heartily.

_Mer._ I do Sir.
Now by my soul I do.

_Old Mer._ With that came out his Paramour,
She was as white as the Lilly Flower,
Hey troul, trolie lolie.

_Enter_ Luce _and_ Jasper.

With that came out her own dear Knight,
He was as true as ever did fight, _&c._

Sir, if you will forgive 'em, clap their hands together,
there's no more to be said i'th' matter.

_Mer._ I do, I do.

_Cit._ I do not like this, peace boys, hear me one of you,
every bodies part is come to an end but _Ralph_'s, and he's
left out.

_Boy._ 'Tis long of your self Sir, we have nothing to do with
his part.

_Cit. Ralph._ Come away, make on him as you have done of the
rest, boys come.

_Wife._ Now good Husband, let him come out and die.

_Cit._ He shall _Nell_, _Ralph_, come away quickly and die boy.

_Boy._ 'Twill be very unfit he should die sir, upon no
occasion, and in a Comedy too.

_Cit._ Take you no care for that Sir boy, is not his part at an
end, think you, when he's dead? come away _Ralph_.

_Enter_ Ralph, _with a forked arrow through his head_.

_Ralph._ When I was mortal, this my costive corps
Did lap up Figs and Raisons in the _Strand_,
Where sitting I espi'd a lovely Dame,
Whose Master wrought with Lingell and with All,
And underground he vampied many a Boot,
Straight did her love prick forth me, tender sprig:
To follow feats of Arms in warlike wise,
Through _Waltham_ Desart; where I did perform
Many atchievements, and did lay on ground
Huge _Barbaroso_, that insulting Giant,
And all his Captives soon set at liberty.
Then honor prickt me from my native soil,
Into _Moldavia_, where I gain'd the love
Of _Pompiana_ his beloved Daughter:
But yet prov'd constant to the black thumm'd Maid
_Susan_, and scorn'd _Pompianaes_ love:
Yet liberal I was, and gave her pins,
And money for her Fathers Officers,
I then returned home, and thrust my self
In action, and by all [men] chosen was
[Lord of the] _May_, where I did flourish it,
With Scarfs and Rings, and Poesie in my hand:
Af[t]er this action I preferred was,
And chosen City-Captain at _Mile-end_,
With Hat and Feather, and with leading staff,
And train'd my men, and brought them all off clear
Save one man that beraid him with the noise.
But all these things I _Ralph_ did undertake,
Only for my beloved _Susan's_ sake.
Then coming home, and sitting in my shop
With Apron blew, Death came unto my stall
To cheapen _Aquavitæ_; but e'r I
Could take the bottle down, and fill a taste,
[Death] caught a pound of Pepper in his hand,
And sprinkled all my Face and Body o'r,
And in an instant vanished away.

_Cit._ 'Tis a pretty fiction i'faith.

_Ralph._ Then took I up my Bow and Shaft in hand,
And walkt in[to] _Moor-fields_, to cool my self,
But there grim cruel death met me again,
And shot this forked Arrow through my head,
And now I faint, therefore be warn'd by me,
My fellows every one, of forked heads.
Farewel all you good boys in merry _London_,
Ne'r shall we more upon _Shrove-Tuesday_ meet,
And pluck down houses of iniquity.
My pain increaseth: I shall never more
Hold open, whilst another pumps both legs,
Nor daub a Sattin Gown with rotten Eggs:
Set up a stake, Oh never more I shall,
I die, flie, flie my soul to Grocers Hall. oh, oh, oh, _&c._

_Wife._ Well said _Ralph_, do your obeysance to the Gentlemen,
and go your ways well said _Ralph_. [_Exit_ Ralph.

_Old Mer._ Methinks all we, thus kindly and unexpectedly
reconciled, should not part without a Song.

_Merch._ A good motion.

_Old Mer._ Strike up then.

SONG.

_Better Musick ne'r was known,_
_Than a Quire of hearts in one._
_Let each other that hath been,_
_Troubled with the gall or spleen:_
_Learn of us to keep his brow,_
_Smooth and plain as ours are now._
_Sing though before the hour of dying_
_He shall rise, and then be crying,_
_Heyho, 'Tis nought but mirth,_
_That keeps the bodie from the earth._

[Exeunt omnes.

_Epilogus._

_Cit._ Come _Nell_, shall we go, the Play's done?

_Wife._ Nay, by my faith _George_, I have more manners than so,
I'll speak to these Gentlemen first: I thank you all Gentlemen,
for your patience and countenance to _Ralph_, a poor fatherless
child, and if I may see you at my house, it should go hard, but
I would have a pottle of Wine, and a Pipe of Tobacco for you;
for truly I hope you [do] like the youth, but I would be glad
to know the truth: I refer it to your own discretions, whether
you will applaud him or no, for I will wink, and whilst you
shall do what you will, I thank you with all my heart, God give
you good night, come _George_.

Loves Pilgr[i]mage,
a Comedy.

* * * * *

The Persons Represented in the Play.

Governor of _Barcellona_.
Leonardo, a noble _Genoese_, Father to _Mark Antonio_.
Don Zanchio, an old lame angry Soldier, Father to _Leocadia_.
Alphonso, a cholerick Don, Father to _Theodosia_.
Philippo, Son to _Alphonso_, Lover of _Leocadia_.
Mark-Antonio, Son to _Leonardo_.
Pedro, a Gentleman and friend to _Leonardo_.
Rodorigo, General of the _Spanish_ Gallies.
Incubo, Bailiff of _Castel Bianco_.
Diego, Host of _Ossuna_.
Lazaro, Hostler to _Diego_.
Host of _B[a]rcellona_.
Bailiff of _Barcellona_.
Chirurgeons.
Soldiers.
Attendants.
Townsmen.
Attendants.

WOMEN.

Theodosia, Daugh. to _Alphonso_. Leocadia, Daugh. to Don
_Zanchio_. Love-sick Ladies in pursuit of _M. Anton._
Eugenia, Wife to the Governor of _Barcellona_.
Hostess, Wife to _Diego_.
Hostess, Wife to the Host of _Barcellona_.

The Scene Barcellona
and the Road.

Actus Primus, Scæna Prima.

_Enter_ Incubo _the Bailiff_, Diego _the Host_.

_Inc._ Signior Don _Diego_, and mine Host, save thee.

_Die._ I thank you Mr. Baily.

_Inc._ O the block!

_Die._ Why, how should I have answer'd?

_Inc._ Not with that
Negligent rudeness: But I kiss your hands
Signior Don _Incubo de Hambre_, and then
My Titles: Master Baily of _Castle-blanco_:
Thou ne'r wilt have the elegancy of an Host;
I sorrow for thee, as my friend and Gossip:
No smoak, nor steam out-breathing from the kitchen?
There's little life i'th Hearth then.

_Die._ I, there, there,
That is his friendship, harkening for the spit,
And sorrow that he cannot smell the pot boil.

_Inc._ Strange
An Inn should be so curst, and not the sign
Blasted, nor withered; very strange, three days now,
And not an Egg eat in it, nor an Onion.

_Die._ I think they ha' strew'd the high-ways with caltraps, I,
No horse dares pass 'em; I did never know
A week of so sad doings, since I first
Stood to my Sign-post.

_Inc._ Gossip, I have found
The root of all: kneel, [pray,] it is thy self
Art cause thereof: each person is the Founder
Of his own fortune, good or bad; but mend it,
Call for thy Cloak, and Rapier.

_Die._ How?

_Inc._ Do, call,
And put 'em on in haste: Alter thy fortune,
By appearing worthy of her: Dost thou think
Her good face e'r will know a man in _cuerpo_?
In single body, thus? in Hose, and Doublet
The horse-boys garb? base blank, and halfe blank _cuerpo_?
Did I, or Mr Dean of _Sivil_ our neighbor
E'r reach our dignities in _cuerpo_, think'st thou,
In squirting Hose and Doublet? Signior, no,
There went more to't: there were Cloaks, Gowns, Cassocks,
And other _paramentos_; Call, I say,
His Cloak, and Rapier here.

_Enter_ Hostess.

_Host._ What means your Worship?

_Inc._ Bring forth thy Husbands Sword: so hang it on,
And now his cloak, here cast it up; I mean
Gossip, to change your luck, and bring you guests.

_Host._ Why? is there charm in this?

_Inc._ Expect; now walk,
But not the pace of one that runs on errands;
For, want of gravity in an Host, is odious:
You may remember Gossip, if you please,
(Your Wife being then th' Infanta of the Gipsies,
And your self governing a great mans Mules then)
Me a poor Squire at _Madrid_ attending
A Master of Ceremonies; But a man, believe it,
That knew his place to the gold weight, and such
Have I heard him [oft] say, ought every Host
Within the Catholique Kings Dominions
Be in his own house.

_Die._ How?

_Inc._ A Master of Ceremonies;
At least Vice-Master, and to do nought in _cuerpo_,
That was his Maxim, I will tell thee of him:
He would not speak with an Ambassadors Cook,
See a cold bake-meat from a forreign part
In _cuerpo_: had a dog but staid without,
Or beast of quality, as an _English_ Cow,
But to present it self, he would put on
His _Savoy_ chain about his neck, the ruff
And cuffs of _Holland_, then the _Naples_ Hat
With the _Rome_ Hat-band, and the _Florentin[e]_ Agat,
The _Millan_ Sword, the Cloak of _Genoa_, set
With _Flemish_ buttons; all his given pieces
To entertain 'em in, and complement [_Knock within._
With a tame Conie, as with the Prince that sent it.

_Die._ List. Who is there?

_Inc._ A guest and 't be thy will.

_Die._ Look Spowse, cry luck, and we be encounter'd: ha?

_Host._ Luck then, and good, for 'tis a fine brave guest,
With a brave horse.

_Inc._ Why now, believe of _cuerpo_.

_Enter_ Theodosia.

As you shall see occasion: go, and meet him.

_Theo._ Look to my horse, I pray you, well.

_Die._ He shall, Sir.

_Inc._ Oh how beneath his rank and call was that now?
Your horse shall be entreated as becomes
A horse of fashion, and his inches.

_Theo._ Oh.

_Inc._ Look to the Cavalier: what ails he? stay
If it concern his horse, let it not trouble him,
He shall have all respect the place can yield him
Either of barley, or fresh straw.

_Die._ Good Sir
Look up.

_Inc._ He sinks, somewhat to cast upon him,
He'll go away in _cuerpo_ else.

_Die._ What, Wife!
Oh your hot waters quickly, and some cold
To cast in his sweet face.

_Host._ Alas, fair flower?

_Die._ Does any body entertain his Horse?

_Host._ Yes, _Lazaro_ has him.

_Enter_ Hostess _with a glass of water_.

_Inc._ Go you see him in person.

_Host._ Sir, taste a little of this, of mine own water,
I did distill't my self; swe[e]t Lilly look upon me,
You are but newly blown, my pretty Tulip.
Faint not upon your stalk, 'tis firm and fresh
Stand up so bolt upright, you are yet in growing.

_The._ Pray you let me have a chamber.

_Host._ That you shall, Sir.

_The._ And where I may be private, I intreat you.

_Host._ For that in troth Sir, we ha no choice: our house
Is but a _vent_ of need, that now and then
Receives a guest, between the greater Towns
As they come late; only one room.

_Inc._ She means, Sir, it is none
Of those wild, scatter'd heaps, call'd Inns, where scarce
The Host is heard, though he wind his horn t' his people,
Here is a competent pile, wherein the man,
Wife, Servants, all do live within the whistle.

_Host._ Only one room.

_Inc._ A pretty modest quadrangle
She will describe to you.

_Host._ Wherein stands two Beds Sir.

_Enter_ Diego.

We have, and where, if any guest do come,
He must of force be lodg'd, that is the truth, Sir.

_Theo._ But if I pay you for both your beds, methinks
That should alike content you.

_Host._ That it shall, Sir.
If I be paid, I am paid.

_Theo._ Why, there's a Ducket
Will that make your content?

_Host._ Oh the sweet face on you:
A Ducket? yes, and there were three beds Sir,
And twice so many rooms, which is one more,
You should be private in 'em all, in all Sir,
No one should have a piece of a bed with you
Not master Dean of _Sivil_ himself, I swear.
Though he came naked hither, as once he did
When h' had like t'have been tane a bed with the _Moor_
And guelt by her Master: you shall be as private,
As if you lay in's own great house that's haunted,
Where no body comes, they say.

_Theo._ I thank you Hostess.
Pray you, will you shew me in.

_Host._ Yes marry will I Sir,
And pray that not a flea, or a chink vex you.

[_Exit_ Host. _and_ Theo.

_Inc._ You forget supper: Gossip: move for supper.

_Die._ 'Tis strange what love to a beast may do, his Horse
Threw him into this fit.

_Inc._ You shall excuse me
It was his being in _cuerpo_, meerly caus'd it.

_Die._ Do you think so Sir?

_Inc._ Most unlucky _cuerpo_.
Naught else, he looks as he would eat Partridge,
This guest; ha' you 'em ready in the house?
And a fine piece of Kid now? and fresh garlick

_Enter_ Hostess.

With _Sardinia_ and _Zant_ Oil? how now?
Has he bespoke, what will he have a brace,
Or but one Partridge, or a short leg'd Hen,
Daintyly carbonado'd?

_Host._ 'Lass the dead
May be as ready for a supper as he.

_Inc._ Ha?

_Host._ He has no mind to eat, more than his shadow.

_Inc._ Say you.

_Die._ How does your worship?

_Inc._ I put on
My left shooe first to day, now I perceive it,
And skipt a bead in saying 'em 'ore; else
I could not be thus cross'd: He cannot be
Above seventeen; one of his years, and have
No better a stomach?

_Host._ And in such good cloaths too.

_Die._ Nay, these do often make the stomach worse, wife,
That is no reason.

_Inc._ I could, at his years, Gossips
(As temperate as you see me now) have eaten
My brace of Ducks, with my half Goose, my Conie,
And drink my whole twelve _Marvedis_ in Wine
As easie as I now get down three Olives.

_Die._ And, with your temperance-favour, yet I think
Your worship would put to't at six and thirty
For a good wager; and the meal in too.

_Inc._ I do not know what mine old mouth can do.
I ha not prov'd it lately.

_Die._ That's the grief, Sir.

_Inc._ But is he without hope then gone to bed?

_Host._ I fear so, Sir, h'as lock'd the door close to him
Sure he is very ill.

_Inc._ That is with fasting,
You should ha told him Gossip, what you had had,
Given him the Inventory of your kitchen,
It is the picklock in an Inn, and often
Opens a close barr'd stomach: what may he be troh?
Has he so good a Horse?

_Die._ Oh a brave Jennet,
As e'r your worship saw.

_Inc._ And he eats?

_Die._ Strongly.

_Inc._ A mighty Solecisme, heaven give me patience,
What creatures has he?

_Host._ None.

_Inc._ And so well cloath'd,
And so well mounted?

_Die._ That's all my wonder, Sir,
Who he should be; he is attir'd and hors'd
For the _Constables_ Son of _Spain_.

_Inc._ My wonders more
He should want appetite: well a good night
To both my Gossips: I will for this time
Put off the thought of supping: In the morning
Remember him of breakfast pray you.

_Host._ I shall Sir.

_Die._ A hungry time Sir.

_Inc._ We that live like mice
On others meat, must watch when we can get it. [_Exit_ Incubo.

_Host._ Yes, but I would not tell him: Our fair guest
Says, though he eats no supper he will pay for one.

_Die._ Good news: we'll eat it spouse, t' his health,
'Twas politickly done t'admit no sharers.

_Enter_ Philippo.

_Phi._ Look to the Mules there, where's mine Host?

_Die._ Here Sir.
Another Fayerie.

_Host._ Bless me.

_Phi._ From what sweet Hostess?
Are you afraid o' your guests?

_Host._ From Angels, Sir,
I think there's none but such come here to night,
My house had never so good luck afore
For brave, fine guests; and yet the ill luck on't is
I cannot bid you welcome.

_Phi._ No?

_Host._ Not lodge you Sir.

_Phi._ Not, Hostess?

_Host._ No in troth Sir, I do tell you
Because you may provide in time: my beds
Are both tane up by a young Cavalier
That will and must be private.

_Die._ He has paid Sir
For all our Chambers.

_Host._ Which is one: and Beds
Which I already ha told you are two: But Sir,
So sweet a creature, I am very sorry
I cannot lodge you by him; you look so like him
Yo' are both the loveliest pieces.

_Phi._ What train has he?

_Die._ None but himself.

_Phi._ And will no less than both beds
Serve him?

_Host._ H'as given me a Ducket for 'em.

_Phi._ Oh.
You give me reason Hostess: Is he handsome,
And young do you say?

_Host._ Oh Sir, the delicat'st flesh
And finest cloths withal, and such a horse,
With such a Saddle.

_Phi._ She's in love with all.
The horse and him, and Saddle, and cloths, good woman,
Thou justifiest thy Sex; lov'st all that's brave:

_Enter_ Incubo.

Sure though I lye o'th' ground, I'll stay here now
And have a sight of him: you'll give me house-room,
Fire, and fresh meat, for money, gentle Hostess;
And make me a pallat?

_Inc._ Sir, she shall do reason....
I understood you had another Guest, Gossips,
Pray you let his Mule be lookt to, have good straw,
And store of bran: And Gossip, do you hear,
Let him not stay for supper: What good Fowl ha' you?
This Gentleman would eat a Pheasant.

_Host._ 'Lass Sir;
We ha' no such.

_Inc._ I kiss your hands fair Sir.
What ha you then? speak what you have? I'm one Sir
Here for the Catholique King, an Officer
T' enquire what guests come to these places; you Sir
Appear a person of quality, and 'tis fit
You be accommodated: why speak you not,
What ha' you Woman? are you afraid to vent
That which you have?

_Phil._ This is a most strange man;
T' appoint my meat.

_Host._ The half of a cold hen, Sir,
And a boil'd quarter of Kid, is all i'th' house.

_Inc._ Why all's but cold; let him see it forth,
Cover, and give the eye some satisfaction,
A Travellers stomach must see bread and salt,
His belly is nearer to him, than his kindred;
Cold hen's a pretty meat Sir.

_Phi._ What you please;
I am resolv'd t' obey.

_Inc._ So is your Kid,
With Pepper, Garlick, and the juyce of an Orange:
She shall with Sallads help it, and clean linnen;
Dispatch; what news at Court Sir?

_Phi._ Faith, new tires
Most of the Ladies have, the men old Suits:
Only the Kings Fool has a new Coat
To serve you.

_Inc._ I did guess you came from thence, Sir.

_Phi._ But I do know I did not.

_Inc._ I mistook Sir.
What hear you of the Archdukes?

_Phi._ Troth your question.

_Enter Hostess and Servants with Table._

_Inc._ Of the _French_ business, What?

_Phi._ As much.

_Inc._ No more?
They say the _French_: Oh that's well: come, I'll help you:
Have you no Jiblets now? or a broil'd rasher.
Or some such present dish t' assist?

_Host._ Not any Sir.

_Inc._ The more your fault: you nev'r should be without
Such aids: what cottage would ha' lack'd a Pheasant
At such a time as this? well, bring your Hen,
And Kid forth quickly.

_Phi._ That should be my prayer
To scape his Inquisition.

_Inc._ Sir, the _French_,
They say are divided 'bout their match with us,
What think you of it.

_Phi._ As of naught to me, Sir.

_Inc._ Nay, it's as little to me too: but I love
To ask after these things, to know the affections
Of States and Princes, now and then for bettring.

_Phi._ Of your own ignorance.

_Inc._ Yes Sir:

_Phi._ Many do so.

_Inc._ I cannot live without it: what do you hear
Of our _Indian_ Fleet; they say they are well return'd.

_Phi._ I had no venture with 'em Sir; had you?

_Enter Hostess and Servants with meat._

_Inc._ Why do you ask Sir?

_Phi._ 'Cause it might concern you,
It does not me.

_Inc._ Oh here's your meat come.

_Phi._ Thanks,
I welcome it at any price.

_Inc._ Some stools here,
And bid mine Host bring Wine, I'll try your Kid,
If he be sweet: he looks well, yes, he is good;
I'll carve you Sir.

_Phi._ You use me too too Princely:
Tast, and carve too.

_Inc._ I love to do these Offices.

_Phi._ I think you do: for whose sake?

_Inc._ For themselves Sir,
The very doing of them is reward.

_Phi._ 'Had little faith would not believe you, Sir.

_Inc._ Gossip, some Wine.

_Enter_ Diego _with Wine._

_Die._ Here 'tis: and right _St. Martyn_.

_Inc._ Measure me out a glass.

_Phi._ I love the humanity
Us'd in this place:

_Inc._ Sir, I salute you here.

_Phil._ I kiss your hands Sir.

_Inc._ Good wine, it will beget an appetite:
Fill him, and sit down, Gossip, entertain
Your noble guest here, as becomes your title.

_Die._ Please you to like this Wine Sir?

_Phi._ I dislike
Nothing mine Host, but that I may not see
Your conceal'd guest: here's to you.

_Die._ In good faith Sir;
I wish you as well as him: would you might see him

_Inc._ And wherefore may he not:

_Die._ 'Has lock'd himself Sir
Up, and has hir'd both the beds o' my wife
At extraordinary rate.

_Phil._ I'll give as much
If that will do't, for one, as he for both;
What say you mine Host, the door once open
I'll fling my self upon the next bed to him
And there's an end of me till morning; noise
I will make none

_Die._ I wish your worship well--but

_Inc._ His honor is engag'd: And my she-Gossip
Hath past her promise, hath she not?

_Die._ Yes truly:

_Inc._ That toucheth to the credit of the house:
Well, I will eat a little, and think: how say you Sir
Unto this brawn o'th' Hen?

_Phi._ I ha' more mind
To get this bed Sir.

_Inc._ Say you so: Why then
Giv't me agen, and drink to me: mine Host
Fill him his Wine: thou'rt dull, and dost not praise it,
I eat but to teach you the way Sir.

_Phil._ Sir:
Find but the way to lodge me in this chamber
I'll give mine Host two Duckets for his bed,
And you Sir two _Reals_: here's to you--

_Inc._ Excuse me,
I am not mercenary: Gossip pledge him for me,
I'll think a little more; but ev'n one bit
And then talk on: you cannot interrupt me.

_Die._ This piece of wine Sir, cost me--

_Inc._ Stay: I have found:
This little morsel, and then: here's excellent garlick:
Have you not a bunch of grapes now: or some Bacon
To give the mouth a relish?

_Die._ Wife, do you hear?

_Inc._ It is no matter: Sir give mine Host your Duckets.

_Die._ How Sir?

_Inc._ Do you receive 'em: I will save
The honesty of your house: and yours too Gossip,
And I will lodge the Gentleman: shew the chamber.

_Die._ Good Sir do you hear.

_Inc._ Shew me the chamber.

_Die._ Pray you Sir,
Do not disturb my guests.

_Inc._ Disturb? I hope
The Catholick King Sir, may command a lodging
Without disturbing in his Vassals house,
For any Minister of his, emploid
In business of the State. Where is the door?
Open the door, who are you there? within?
In the Kings name. [Theodosia _within._

_Theo._ What would you have?

_Inc._ Your key Sir,
And your door open: I have here command
To lodge a Gentleman, from the Justice, sent
Upon the Kings affairs.

_Theod._ Kings and necessities
Must be obey'd: the key is under the door.

_Inc._ How now Sir, are you fitted? you secur'd?

_Phi._ Your two Reals are grown a piece of Eight.

_In[c]._ Excuse me Sir.

_Phi._ 'Twill buy a Hen; and Wine
Sir, for to morrow. [_Exit_ Phil.

_Inc._ I do kiss your hands Sir.
Well this will bear my charge yet to the Gallies
Where I am owing a Ducket: whither this night
By the Moons leave I'll march: for in the morning
Early, they put from Port _St. Maries_. [_Ex. all but_ Diego.

_Die. Lazaro._

_Enter_ Lazaro.

How do the horses?

_Laz._ Would you would go and see Sir,
A ---- of all Jades, what a clap h'as given me:
As sure as you live Master he knew perfectly
I couzen'd him on's Oats: he lookt upon me
And then he sneer'd, as who should say, take heed sirrah:
And when he saw our half Peck, which you know
Was but an old Court dish, lord how he stampt:
I thought 't had been for joy, when suddenly
He cuts me a back caper with his heels
And takes me just o'th crupper, down came I,
And all my ounce of Oats: Then he neigh'd out
As though he had had a mare by th' tail.

_Die._ Faith _Lazaro_
We are t[o] blame to use the poor dumb serviters
So cruelly.

_Laz._ Yonder's this other Gentleman's horse
Keeping our Lady Eve: the devil a bit
H'as got since he came in yet: there he stands
And looks, and looks, but 'tis your pleasure, Sir,
He shall look lean enough: h'as Hay before him
But 'tis as big as Hemp, and will as soon choak him,
Unless he eat it butter'd: he had four shooes
And good ones when he came: 'tis a strange wonder
With standing still he should cast three.

_Die._ O _Lazaro_.
The Devil's in this Trade: truth never knew it
And to the devil we shall travel, _Lazaro_
Unless we mend our manners: once every week
I meet with such a knock to mollifie me
Sometimes a dozen to awake my conscience
Yet still I sleep securely.

_Laz._ Certain Master
We must use better dealing.

_Die._ 'Faith for mine own part
Not to give ill example to our issues,
I could be well content to steal but two girths,
And now and then a saddle-cloth: change a bridle
Only for exercise.

_Laz._ If we could stay there
There were some hope on's Master: but the devil is
We are drunk so early we mistake whole Saddles
Sometimes a horse; and then it seems to us too
Every poor jade has his whole peck, and tumbles
Up to his ears in clean straw, and every bottle
Shews at the least a dozen; when the truth is, Sir,
There's no such matter, not a smell of Provinder,
Not so much straw as would tie up a horse tail,
Nor any thing i'th' rack, but two old Cobwebs
And so much rotten Hay as had been a hens nest.

_Die._ Well, these mistakings must be mended, _Lazaro_,
These apparitions, that abuse our sences,
And make us ever apt to sweep the manger
But put in nothing; these fancies must be forgot
And we must pray it may be reveal'd to us
Whose horse we ought, in conscience, to couzen,
And how, and when; A Parsons Horse may suffer
A little greazing in his teeth, 'tis wholsome;
And keeps him in a sober shuffle: and his Saddle
May want a stirrop, and it may be sworn
His Learning lay on one side, and so broke it:
H'as ever Oats in's Cloak-bag to prevent us
And therefore 'tis a meritorious office
To tythe him soundly.

_Laz._ And a Grazier may
(For those are pinching puckfoysts, and suspitious)
Suffer a myst before his eyes sometimes too,
And think he sees his horse eat halfe a bushel:
When the truth is, rubbing his gums with salt,
Till all the skin come off: he shall but mumble
Like an old Woman that were chewing Brawn,
And drop 'em out again.

_Die._ That may do well too,
And no doubt 'tis but venial, But good _Lazaro_
Have you a care of understanding horses,
[Horses with angry heels, gentlemens horses,]
Horses that know the world: let them have meat
Till their teeth ake; and rubbing till their ribs
Shine like a wenches forehead; they are devils.

_Laz._ And look into our dealings: as sure as we live
These Courtiers horses are a kind of _Welsh_ Prophets,
Nothing can be hid from 'em: For mine own part
The next I cozen of that kind shall be founder'd,
And of all four too: I'll no more such complements
Upon my crupper.

_Die._ Steal but a little longer
Till I am lam'd too, and we'll repent together,
It will not be above two daies.

_Laz._ By that time
I shall be well again, and all forgot Sir.

_Die._ Why then I'll stay for thee. [_Exit._

_Scæna Secunda._

_Enter_ Theodosi[a] _and_ Phillipo _on several Beds._

_Theo._ Oh,--ho! oh--ho!

_Phi._ Ha?

_Theo._ Oh--oh! heart--heart--heart--heart?

_Phil._ What's that?

_Theo._ When wilt thou break?--break, break, break?

_Phil._ Ha?
I would the voice were strong, or I nearer.

_Theo._ Shame, shame, eternal shame? what have I done?

_Phil._ Done?

_Theo._ And to no end, what a wild journey
Have I more wildly undertaken?

_Phil._ Journey?

_Theo._ How, without counsel? care? reason, or fear?

_Phil._ Whither will this fit carry?

_Theo._ Oh my folly!

_Phil._ This is no common sickness.

_Theo._ How have I left
All I should love, or keep? oh heaven.

_Phil._ Sir?

_Theo._ Ha?

_Phil._ How do you gentle Sir?

_Theo._ Alas my fortune!

_Phil._ It seems your sorrow oppresses: please your goodness,
Let me bear half, Sir: a divided burthen
Is so made lighter.

_Theo._ Oh!

_Phil._ That sigh betraies
The fulness of your grief.

_Theo._ I, if that grief
Had not bereft me of my understanding,
I should have well remembred where I was,
And in what company; and clapt a lock
Upon this tongue for talking.

_Phil._ Worthy Sir
Let it not add to your grief, that I have heard
A sigh or groan come from you: That is all Sir:

_The._ Good Sir no more: you have heard too much I fear,
Would I had taken Poppy when I spake it.

_Phi._ It seems you have an ill belief of me
And would have fear'd much more, had you spoke ought
I could interpret. But believe it Sir
Had [I] had means to look into your breast,
And tane you sleeping here, that so securely
I might have read all that your woe would hide
I would not have betraid you.

_Theo._ Sir, that speech
Is very noble, and almost would tempt
My need to trust you.

_Phil._ At your own election,
I dare not make my faith so much suspected
As to protest again: nor am I curious
To know more than is fit.

_Theo._ Sir, I will trust you
But you shall promise Sir to keep your bed,
And whatsoe'r you hear, not to importune
More I beseech you from me.

_Phi._ Sir I will not.

_Theo._ Than I am prone to utter.

_Phi._ My faith for it.

_Theo._ If I were wise, I yet should hold my peace.
You will be noble?

_Phil._ You shall make me so
If you'll but think me such.

_Theo._ I do: then know
You are deceiv'd with whom you have talk'd so long.
I am a most unfortunate lost woman.

_Phil._ Ha?

_Theo._ Do not stir Sir: I have here a Sword.

_Phil._ Not I sweet Lady: of what blood, or name.

_Theo._ You'll keep your faith.

_Phil._ I'll perish else.

_Theo._ Believe then
Of birth too noble for me, so descended--I
am asham'd, no less than I am affrighted.

_Phil._ Fear not: by all good things, I will not wrong you.

_Theo._ I am the Daughter of a noble Gentleman
Born in this part of _Spain_: my fathers name Sir:
But why should I abuse that reverence
When a childs duty has forsaken me.

_Phil._ All may be mended, in fit time too: speak it.

_Theo. Alphonso_, sir.

_Phil. Alphonso?_ What's your own name?

_Theo._ Any base thing you can invent.

_Phil._ Deal truly.

_Theo._ They call me _Theodosia_.

_Phil._ Ha? and love
Is that that hath chang'd you thus?

_Theo._ Ye have observ'd me
Too nearly Sir, 'tis that indeed: 'tis love Sir:
And love of him (oh heavens) why should men deal thus?
Why should they use their arts to cozen us?
That have no cunning, but our fears about us?
And ever that too late too; no dissembling
Or double way but doating: too much loving?
Why should they find new oaths, to make more wretches?

_Phil._ What may his name be?

_Theo._ Sir, a name that promises
Methinks no such ill usage: _Mark-Antonio_
A noble neighbors son: Now I must desire ye
To stay a while: else my weak eyes must answer.

_Phil._ I will:--Are ye yet ready? what is his quality?

_Theo._ His best a thief Sir: that he would be known by
Is heir to _Leonardo_, a rich Gentleman:
Next of a handsome body, had heaven made him
A mind fit to it. To this man my fortune,
(My more than purblind fortune) gave my faith,
Drawn to it by as many shews of service
And signs of truth, as ever false tongue utter'd:
Heaven pardon all.

_Phil._ 'Tis well said: forward Lady.

_Theo._ Contracted Sir, and by exchange of rings
Our souls deliver'd: nothing left unfinish'd
But the last work, enjoying me, and Ceremony.
For that I must confess was the first wise doubt
I ever made: yet after all this love Sir,
All this profession of his faith; when daily
And hourly I expected the blest Priest
He left me like a dream, as all this story
Had never been, nor thought of, why, I know not;
Yet I have called my conscience to confession,
And every syllable that might offend
I have had in shrift: yet neither loves Law Signior,
Nor tye of Maidens duty, but desiring
Have I transgrest in: left his father too,
Nor whither he is gone, or why departed
Can any tongue resolve me: All my hope
(Which keeps me yet alive, and would perswade me
I may be once more happy, and thus shapes me
A shame to all my modest Sex) is this Sir,
I have a Brother and his old Companion,
Student in _Salamanca_, there my last hope
If he be yet alive, and can be loving
Is left me to recover him: For which travel
In this Sute left at home of that dear Brothers
Thus as you find me, without fear, or wisdom,
I have wander'd from my Father, fled my friends,
And now am only child of hope and danger:
You are now silent Sir: this tedious story
(That ever keeps me waking) makes you heavy:
'Tis fit it should do so: for that, and I
Can be but troubles.

_Phil._ No, I sleep not Lady:
I would I could: oh heaven is this my comfort?

_Theo._ What ail you gentle Sir?

_Phil._ Oh.

_Theo._ Why do you groan so?

_Phil._ I must, I must; oh misery;

_Theo._ But now Sir,
You were my comfort: if any thing afflict ye
Am not I fit to bear a part on't? and by your own rule?

_Phil._ No; if you could heal, as you have wounded me,
But 'tis not in your power.

_Theo._ I fear intemperance.

_Phil._ Nay, do not seek to shun me: I must see you:
By heaven I must: hoa, there mine Host: a Candle:
Strive not, I will not stir ye.

_Theo._ Noble Sir
This is a breach of promise.

_Phil._ Tender Lady
It shall be none but necessary: hoa, there,
Some light, some light for heavens sake.

_Theo._ Will ye betray me?
Are ye a Gentleman?

_Phil._ Good woman:

_Theo._ Sir.

_Enter_ Diego _with a light._

_Phil._ If I be prejudicial to you, curse me.

_Dieg._ Ye are early stirring Sir.

_Phil._ Give me your Candle
And so good morrow for a while.

_Dieg._ Good morrow Sir. [_Exit._

_Theo._ My Brother Don _Philippo_: nay Sir, kill me
I ask no mercy Sir, for none dare know me,
I can deserve none: As ye look upon me
Behold in infinite these foul dishonors,
My noble Father, then your self, last all
That bear the name of kindred, suffer in me:
I have forgot whose child I am; whose Sister:
Do you forget the pity tied to that:
Let not compassion sway you: you will be then
As foul as I, and bear the same brand with me,
A favourer of my fault: ye have a sword Sir,
And such a cause to kill me in.