Chapter II: Part 2

_Gill._ You are so violous: this I'm resolv'd,
If she be a whore once, I'll renounce her,
You know, if every man had his right,
She's none of our child, but a meer foundling,
(And I can guess the owner for a need too)
We have but foster'd her.

_Fra. Gill._ no more of that,
I'll cut your tongue out, if you tell those tales.
Hark, hark, these _Toaters_ tell us the King's coming:
Get you gone; I'll see if I can find him. [_Exeunt._

_Enter_ Lisauro, Tersa, Pedro, _and_ Moncado.

_Lis._ Does the King remove to day?

_Ter._ So saies the Harbengers,
And keeps his way on to _Valentia_,
There ends the progress.

_Ped._ He hunts this morning Gentlemen,
And dines i'th' fields: the Court is all in readiness.

_Lis. Pedro_, did you send for this Tailor? or you _Moncado_?
This light _French_ Demi-launce that follows us.

_Ped._ No, I assure ye on my word, I am guiltless,
I owe him too much to be inward with him.

_Mon._ I am not quit I am sure: there is a reckoning
Of some four scarlet cloaks, and two lac'd suits
Hangs on the file still, like a fearful Comet
Makes me keep off.

_Lis._ I am in too Gentlemen,
I thank his faith, for a matter of three hundred.

_Ter._ And I for two, what a devil makes he this way?
I do not love to see my sins before me.

_Ped._ 'Tis the vacation, and these things break out
To see the Court, and glory in their debtors.

_Ter._ What do you call him for? I never love
To remember their names that I owe money to,
'Tis not gentile; I shun 'em like the plague ever.

_Lis._ His name's _Vertigo_: hold your heads, and wonder,
A French-man, and a founder of new Fashions:
The revolutions of all shapes and habits
Run madding through his brains. [_Enter_ Vertigo.

_Mon._ He is very brave.

_Lis._ The shreds of what he steals from us, believe it,
Makes him a mighty man: he comes, have at ye.

_Ver._ Save ye together, my sweet Gentlemen,
I have been looking--

_Ter._ Not for Money, Sir?
You know the hard time.

_Ver._ Pardon me sweet (_Signior_)
Good faith the least thought in my heart, your love Gentlemen,
Your love's enough for me: Money? hang money:
Let me preserve your love.

_Lis._ Yes marry shall ye,
And we our credit, you would see the Court?

_Mon._ He shall see every place.

_Ver._ Shall I i'faith Gentlemen?

_Ped._ The Cellar, and the Buttry, and the Kitchin,
The Pastry, and the Pantry.

_Ter._ I, and taste too
Of every Office: and be free of all too:
That he may say when he comes home in glory.

_Ver._ And I will say, i'faith, and say it openly,
And say it home too: Shall I see the King also?

_Lis._ Shalt see him every day: shalt see the Ladies
In their _French_ clothes: shalt ride a hunting with him,
Shalt have a Mistriss too: we must fool handsomely
To keep him in belief, we honor him,
He may call on us else.

_Ped._ A pox upon him.
Let him call at home in's own house for salt butter.

_Ver._ And when the King puts on a new suit.

_Ter._ Thou shalt see it first,
And desect his doublets: that thou maist be perfect.

_Ver._ The Wardrobe I would fain view, Gentlemen,
Fain come to see the Wardrobe.

_Lis._ Thou shalt see it,
And see the secret of it, dive into it:
Sleep in the Wardrobe, and have Revelations
Of fashions five years hence.

_Ver._ Ye honor me.
Ye infinitely honor me.

_Ter._ Any thing i' th' Court, Sir,
Or within the compass of a Courtier.

_Ver._ My wife shall give ye thanks.

_Ter._ You shall see any thing.
The privat[st] place, the stool, and where 'tis emptied.

_Ver._ Ye make me blush, ye pour your bounties, Gentlemen,
In such abundance.

_Lis._ I will shew thee presently
The order that the King keeps when he comes
To open view, that thou may'st tell thy neighbors
Over a shoulder of mutton, thou hast seen something,
Nay, thou shalt present the King for this time.

_Ver._ Nay, I pray Sir.

_Lis._ That thou maist know what State there does belong to it;
Stand there I say, and put on a sad countenance,
Mingled with height: be cover'd, and reserved;
Move like the Sun, by soft degrees, and glorious,
Into your order (Gentlemen) uncover'd,
The King appears; We'll sport with you a while, Sir,
I am sure you are merry with us all the year long (Tailor)
Move softer still, keep in that fencing leg; _Monsieur_,
Turn to no side.

_Enter_ Franio _out of breath_.

_Ter._ What's this that appears to him?

_Lis._ 'Has a petition, and he looks most lamentably,
Mistake him, and we are made.

_Fra._ This is the King sure,
The glorious King, I know him by his gay clothes.

_Lis._ Now bear your self that you may say hereafter.

_Fra._ I have recover'd breath, I'll speak unto him presently,
May it please your gracious Majesty to consider
A poor mans case?

_Ver._ What's your Will, Sir?

_Lis._ You must accept, and read it.

_Ter._ The Tailor will run mad upon my life for't.

_Ped._ How he mumps and bridles: he will ne'r cut clothes again.

_Ver._ And what's your grief?

_Mon._ He speaks i' th' nose like his goose.

_Fra._ I pray you read there; I am abus'd and frumpt, Sir,
By a great man that may do ill by authority;
Poor honest men are hang'd for doing less, Sir,
My child is stolen, the Count _Otrante_ stole her;
A pretty child she is, although I say it,
A handsome Mother, he means to make a whore of her,
A silken whore, his knaves have filch'd her from me;
He keeps lewd knaves, that do him beastly offices:
I kneel for Justice. Shall I have it Sir?

_Enter King_ Philippo, _and Lords_.

_Phil._ What Pageant's this?

_Lis._ The King:
Tailor, stand off, here ends your aparition:
Miller, turn round, and there address your paper,
There, there's the King indeed.

_Fra._ May it please your Majesty.

_Phil._ Why didst thou kneel to that fellow?

_Fra._ In good faith, Sir,
I thought he had been a King, he was so gallant:
There's none here wears such gold.

_Phil._ So foolishly,
You have golden business sure; because I am homely
Clad, in no glitt'ring suit, I am not look'd on:
Ye fools that wear gay cloaths, love to [be] gap'd at,
What are you better when your end calls on you?
Will gold preserve ye from the grave? or jewels?
Get golden Minds, and fling away your Trappings
Unto your bodies, minister warm raiments,
Wholsome and good; glitter within and spare not:
Let my [C]ourt have rich souls, their suits I weigh not:
And what are you that took such State upon ye?
Are ye a Prince?

_Lis._ The Prince of Tailors, Sir,
We owe some money to him, and't like your Majesty.

_Phil._ If it like him, would ye ow'd more, be modester,
And you less saucy, Sir: and leave this place:
Your Pressing-iron will make no perfect Courtier:
Goe stitch at home, and cozen your poor neighbors,
Show such another pride, I'll have ye whipt for't,
And get worse clothes, these but proclaim your fellony.
And what's your Paper?

_Fra._ I beseech you read it.

_Phil._ What's here? the Count _Otrante_ task'd for a base villany,
For stealing of a maid?

_Lord._ The Count _Otrante_?
Is not the fellow mad, Sir?

_Fra._ No, no, my Lord,
I am in my wits, I am a labouring man,
And we have seldome leisure to run mad,
We have other business to employ our heads in,
We have little Wit to lose too: if we complain,
And if a heavie lo[r]d lie on [our] shoulders,
Worse than a sack of Meal, and oppress our poverties,
We are mad streight, and whop'd, and ty'd in fetters,
Able to make a horse mad, as you use us,
You are mad for nothing, and no man dare proclaim it,
In you a wildness is a noble trick,
And cherish'd in ye, and all men must love it:
Oppressions of all sorts, sit like new clothes,
Neatly and handsomely upon your Lordships:
And if we kick when your honors spur us,
We are Knaves and Jades, and ready for the Justice.
I am a true Miller.

_Phil._ Then thou art a wonder.

_2 Lor._ I know [the] man reputed for a good man
An honest and substantial fellow.

_Phil._ He speaks sence,
And to the point: Greatness begets much rudeness,
How dare you (Sirrah) 'gainst so main a person,
A man of so much Noble note and honor,
Put up this base complaint? Must every Peasant
Upon a saucy Will affront great Lords!
All fellows (Miller?)

_Fra._ I have my reward, Sir,
I was told one greatness would protect another,
As beams support their fellows; now I find it:
If't please your Grace to have me hang'd, I am ready,
'Tis but a Miller, and a Thief dispa[t]ch'd:
Though I steal bread, I steal no flesh to tempt me.
I have a wife, and 't please him to have her too,
With all my heart; 'twill make my charge the less, Sir,
She'll hold him play awhile: I have a boy too,
He's able to instruct his Honors hogs,
Or rub his horse-heels: when it please his Lordship
He may [make] him his slave too, or his bawd:
The boy is well bred, can exhort his Sister:
For me, the Prison, or the Pillory,
To lose my [goods], and have mine ears cropt off;
Whipt like a Top, and have a paper stuck before me,
For abominable honesty to his own Daughter,
I can endure, Sir: the Miller has a stout heart,
[T]ough as his Toal-pin.

_Phil._ I suspect this shrewdly,
Is it his Daughter that the people call
The Millers fair Maid?

_2 Lor._ It should seem so, Sir.

_Phil._ Be sure you be i' th' right, Sirrah.

_Fra._ If I be i' th' wrong, Sir,
Be sure you hang me, I will ask no courtesie:
Your Grace may have a Daughter, think of that, Sir,
She may be fair, and she may be abused too:
A King is not exempted from these cases:
Stolen from your loving care.

_Phil._ I do much pity him.

_Fra._ But heaven forbid she should be in that venture
That mine is in at this hour: I'll assure your Grace
The Lord wants a water-Mill, and means to grind with her
Would I had his stones to set, I would fit him for it.

_Phil._ Follow me, Miller, and let me talk with ye farther,
And keep this private all upon your Loyalties:
To morrow morning, though I am now beyond him,
And the less lookt for, I'll break my Fast with the good Count.
No more, away, all to our sports, be silent. [_Exeunt._

_Ver._ What Grace shall I have now?

_Lis._ Choose thine own Grace,
And go to dinner when thou wilt, _Vertigo_,
We must needs follow the King.

_Ter._ You heard the sentence.

_Mon._ If you stay here
I'll send thee a shoulder of Venison:
Go home, go home, or if thou wilt disguise,
I'll help thee to a place to feed the dogs.

_Ped._ Or thou shalt be special Tailor to the Kings Monkey,
'Tis a fine place, we cannot stay.

_Ver._ No Money,
Nor no Grace, Gentlemen?

_Ter._ 'Tis too early Tailor.
The King has not broke his Fast yet.

_Ver._ I shall look for ye
The next Term, Gentlemen.

_Ped._ Thou shalt not miss us:
Prethee provide some clothes, and dost thou hear _Vertigo_
Commend me to thy Wife: I want some shirts too.

_Ver._ I have Chambers for ye all.

_Lis._ They are too musty,
When they are clear we'll come.

_Ver._ I must be patient
And provident, I shall never get home else. [_Exeunt._

_Scæna Secunda._

_Enter_ Otrante _and_ Florimell.

_Otr._ Prethee be wiser wench, thou canst not scape me,
Let me with love and gentleness injoy that
That may be still preserv'd with love, and long'd for:
If violence lay rough hold, I shall hate thee,
And after I have enjoy'd thy Maiden-head,
Thou wilt appear so stale and ugly to me
I shall despise thee, cast thee off.

_Flo._ I pray ye Sir,
Begin it now, and open your doors to me,
I do confess I am ugly; let me go, Sir:
A Gipsey-girl: Why would your Lordship touch me?
Fye, 'tis not noble: I am homely bred,
Course, and unfit for you: why do you flatter me?
There be young Ladies, many that will love ye,
That will dote on ye: you [are] a handsome Gentleman,
What will they say when once they know your quality?
A Lord, a Miller? take your Toal dish with ye:
You that can deal with Gudgins, and course flower,
'Tis pitty you should tast what manchet means:
Is this fit Sir, for your repute and honor?

_Otr._ I'll love thee still.

_Flo._ You cannot, there's no sympathy
Between our births, [our] breeding, arts, conditions,
And where these are at difference, ther's no liking:
This hour it may be I seem handsome to you,
And you are taken with variety
More than with beauty: to morrow when you have enjoy'd me,
Your heat and lust asswag'd, and come to examine
Out of a cold and penitent condition
What you have done, whom you have shar'd your love with,
Made partner of your bed, how it will vex ye,
How you will curse the devil that betrayd ye,
And what shall become of me then?

_Otr._ Wilt thou hear me?

_Flo._ As hasty as you were then to enjoy me,
As precious as this beauty shew'd unto ye,
You'll kick me out of dores, you will whore and ban me:
And if I prove with child with your fair issue,
Give me a pension of five pound a year
To breed your Heir withall, and so good speed me.

_Otr._ I'll keep thee like a woman.

_Flo._ I'll keep my self Sir,
Keep my self honest Sir; there's the brave keeping:
If you will marry me.

_Otr._ Alass poor _Florimell_.

_Flo._ I do confess I am too course and base Sir
To be your wife, and it is fit you scorn me,
Yet such as I have crown'd the lives of great ones:
To be your whore I am sure I am too worthy,
(For by my troth Sir, I am truly honest)
And that's an honor equal to your greatness.

_Otr._ I'll give thee what thou wilt.

_Flo._ Tempt me no more then:
Give me that peace, and then you give abundance,
I know ye do but try me, ye are noble,
All these are but to try my modesty,
If you should find me easie, and once coming,
I see your eyes already how they would fright me;
I see your honest heart how it would swell
And burst it self into a grief against me:
Your tongue in noble anger, now, even now Sir,
Ready to rip my loose thoughts to the bottom,
And lay my shame unto my self, wide open:
You are a noble Lord, you pitty poor maids,
The people are mistaken in your courses:
You, like a father, try 'em to the uttermost.
As they do Gold: you purge the dross from them,
And make them shine.

_Otr._ This cunning cannot help ye:
I love ye to enjoy [ye]: I have stol'n ye
To enjoy ye now, not to be fool'd with circumstance,
Yield willingly, or else.

_Flo._ What?

_Otr._ I will force ye.
I will not be delay'd, a poor base wench
That I, in curtesie, make offer to,
Argue with me?

_Flo._ Do not, you will loose your labor,
Do not my Lord, it will become ye poorly:
Your courtesie may do much on my nature,
For I am kind as you are, and as tender:
If you compel, I have my strengths to flye to,
My honest thoughts, and those are guards about me:
I can cry too, and noise enough I dare make,
And I have curses, that will call down thunder,
For all I am a poor wench, heaven will hear me:
My body you may force, but my will never;
And be sure I do not live if you do force me,
Or have no tongue to tell your beastly Story,
For if I have, and if there be a justice.

_Otr._ Pray ye go in here: I'll calm my self for this time.
And be your friend again.

_Flo._ I am commanded. [_Exit._

_Otr._ You cannot scape me, yet I must enjoy ye,
I'll lie with thy wit, though I miss thy honesty:
Is this a wench for a Boors hungry bosom?
A morsel for a Peasants base embraces?
And must I starve, and the meat in my mouth?
I'll none of that.

_Enter_ Gerasto.

_Ger._ How now my Lord, how sp[e]d ye?
Have ye done the deed?

_Otr._ No, pox upon't, she is honest.

_Ger._ Honest, what's that? you take her bare denial,
Was there ever wench brought up in a mill, and honest?
That were a wonder worth a Chronicle,
Is your belief so large? what did she say to ye?

_Otr._ She said her honesty was all her dowry,
And preach'd unto me, how unfit, and homely,
Nay how dishonourable it would seem in me
To act my will; popt me i'th mouth with modesty.

_Ger._ What an impudent Quean was that! that's their
trick ever.

_Otr._ And then discours'd to me very learnedly
What fame and loud opinion would tell of me:
A wife she touch'd at.

_Ger._ Out upon her Varlet.
Was she so bold? these home-spun things are [d]evils,
They'll tell ye a thousand lies, if you'll believe 'em;
And stand upon their honors like great Ladies,
They'll speak unhappily too: good words to cozen ye,
And outwardly seem Saints: they'll cry down-right also,
But 'tis for anger that you do not crush 'em.
Did she not talk of being with child?

_Otr._ She toucht at it.

_Ger._ The trick of an arrant whore to milk your Lordship;
And then a pension nam'd?

_Otr._ No, no, she scorn'd it:
I offer'd any thing, but she refus'd all,
Refus'd it with a confident hate.

_Ger._ You thought so,
You should have taken her then, turn'd her, and tew'd her
I'th'strength of all her resolution, flatter'd her,
And shak't her stubborn will: she would have thank'd ye,
She would have lov'd ye infinitely, they must seem modest,
It is their parts: if you had plaid your part Sir.
And handl'd her as men do unman'd Hawks,
Cast her, and malde her up in good clean linnen,
And there have coyed her, you had caught her heart-strings.
These tough Virginities they blow like white thornes
In storms and tempests.

_Otr._ She is beyond all this,
As cold, and harden'd, as the Virgin Crystal.

_Ger._ Oh force her, force her, Sir, she longs to be ravish'd
Some have no pleasure but in violence;
To be torn in pieces is their paradise:
'Tis ordinary in our Countrey, Sir, to ravish all
They will not give a penny for their sport
Unless they be put to it, and terribly,
And then they swear they'll hang the man comes near 'em,
And swear it on his lips too.

_Otr._ No, no forcing,
I have an other course, and I will follow it,
I command you, and do you command your fellows,
That when you see her next, disgrace, and scorn her,
I'll seem to put her out o'th' dores o'th' sodain
And leave her to conjecture, then seize on her.
Away, be ready straight.

_Ger._ We shall not fail, Sir. [_Exit._

_Otr. Florimel._

_Enter_ Florimell.

_Flo._ My Lord.

_Otr._ I am sure you have now consider'd
And like a wise wench weigh'd a friends displeasure,
Repented your proud thoughts, and cast your scorn off.

_Flo._ My Lord, I am not proud, I was never beautiful.
Nor scorn I any thing that's just and honest.

_Otr._ Come, to be short, can ye love yet? you told me
Kindness would far compell ye: I am kind to ye,
And mean to exceed that way.

_Flo._ I told ye too, Sir,
As far as it agreed with modesty,
With honour, and with honesty I would yield to ye:
Good my Lord: take some other Theam: for Love,
Alass, I never knew yet what it meant,
And on the sudden Sir, to run through Volumes
Of his most mystick art, 'tis most impossible;
Nay, to begin with lust, which is an Heresie,
A foul one too; to learn that in my childhood:
O good my Lord.

_Otr._ You will not out of this song,
Your modesty, and honesty, is that all?
I will not force ye.

_Flo._ Ye are too noble, Sir.

[_Otr._ Nor play the childish fool, and marry ye,
I am yet not mad.

_Flo._ If ye did, men would imagine.]

_Otr._ Nor will I woo ye at that infinite price
It may be you expect.

_Flo._ I expect your pardon,
And a discharge (my Lord) that's all I look for.

_Otr._ No, nor fall sick for love.

_Flo._ 'Tis a heathful year Sir.

_Otr._ Look ye, I'll turn ye out o'dores, and scorn ye.

_Flo._ Thank ye my Lord.

_Otr._ A proud slight Peat I found ye,
A fool (it may be too.)

_Flo._ An honest woman,
Good my Lord think me.

_Otr._ And a base I [l]eave ye,
So fare-ye-well. [_Exit._

[_Flo._ Blessing attend your Lordship;
This is hot love, that vanisheth like vapors;
His Ague's off, his burning fits are well quench'd,
I thank heaven for't: his men, they will not force me.]

_Enter_ Gerasto _and Servants_.

_Ger._ What dost thou stay for? dost thou not know the way,
Thou base unprovident whore?

_Flo._ Good words, pray ye Gentlemen.

_1 Ser._ Has my Lord smoak'd ye over, good-wife Miller?
Is your Mill broken that you stand so useless?

_2 Ser._ An impudent Quean, upon my life she is unwholsome
Some base discarded thing my Lord has found her,
He would not have turn'd her off o'th'sudden else.

_Ger._ Now against every sack (my honest sweet heart)
With every _Smig_ and _Smug_.

_Flo._ I must be patient.

_Ger._ And every greasie guest, and sweaty Rascall
For his Royal hire between his fingers, Gentlewoman.

_1 Ser._ I fear thou hast given my Lord the ---- thou damn'd thing.

_2 Ser._ I have seen her in the Stewes.

_Ger._ The knave her father
Was Bawd to her there, and kept a Tipling house,
You must even to it again: a modest function.

_Flo._ If ye had honesty, ye would not use me
Thus basely, wretchedly, though your Lord bid ye,
But he that knows.

_Ger._ Away thou carted impudence,
You meat for every man: a little meal
Flung in your face, makes ye appear so proud.

_Flo._ This is inhumane. Let these tears persuade you,
If ye be men, to use a poor girl better;
I wrong not you, I am sure I call you Gentlemen.

_Enter_ Otrante.

_Otr._ What business is here? away, are not you gone yet?

_Flo._ My Lord, this is not well: although you hate me,
For what I know not; to let your people wrong me,
Wrong me maliciously, and call me.--

_Otr._ Peace,
And mark me what we say advisedly;
Mark, as you love that that you call your credit;
Yield now, or you are undone: your good name's perish'd
Not all the world can buy your reputation;
'Tis sunk for ever else, these peoples tongues will poison ye
Though you be white as innocence they'll taint ye,
They will speak terrible and hideous things,
And people in this age are prone to credit,
They'll let fall nothing that may brand a woman,
Consider this, and then be wise and tremble,
Yield yet, and yet I'll save ye.

_Flo._ How?

_Otr._ I'll show ye,
Their mouths I'll seal up, they shall speak no more
But what is honorable and honest of ye,
And Saintlike they shall worship ye: they are mine,
And what I charge them _Florimell_.

_Flo._ I am ruin'd,
Heaven will regard me yet, they are barbarous wretches:
Let me not fall (my Lord.)

_Otr._ You shall not _Florimell_:
Mark how I'll work your peace, and how I honor ye.
Who waits there? come all in.

_Enter_ Gerasto _and Servants_.

_Ger._ Your pleasure Sir.

_Otr._ Who dare say this sweet beauty is not heavenly?
This virgin, the most pure the most untainted,
The holiest thing?

_Ger._ We know it (my dear Lord)
We are her slaves: and that proud impudence
That dares disparage her, this sword (my Lord.)

_1. Ser._ They are rascals, base, the sons of common women
That wrong this virtue, or dare own a thought
But fair and honorable of her: when we slight her,
Hang us, or cut's in pieces: let's tug i'th' Gallies.

_2 Ser._ Brand us for villains.

_Flo._ Why sure I dream: these are all Saints.

_Otr._ Go, and live all her slaves.

_Ger._ We are proud to do it. [_Exeunt._

_Otr._ What think ye now? am not I able _Florimell_
Yet to preserve ye?

_Flo._ I am bound to your Lordship,
Ye are all honour, and good my Lord but grant me,
Untill to morrow, leave to weigh my fortunes,
I'll give you a free answer, perhaps a pleasing,
Indeed I'll do the best I can to satisfie ye.

_Otr._ Take your good time, this kiss, till then farewell,
Sweet. [_Exeunt._

Actus Quartus.

_Scæna Prima._

_Enter_ Antonio, Martine, Bustofa.

_Mar._ By all means discharge your follower.

_Ant._ If we can get him off: Sirrah _Bustofa_
Thou must needs run back.

_Bust._ But I must not unless you send
A Bier, or a Lictor at my back, I do not use to run
From my friends.

_Ant._ Well, go will serve turn: I have forgot.

_Bust._ What Sir?

_Ant._ See if I can think on't now.

_Bust._ I know what 'tis now.

_Ant._ A Pistolet of that.

_Bust._ Done, you have forgot a devise to send me away,
You are going a smocking perhaps.

_Mar._ His own, due, due i'faith _Antonio_,
The Pistolet's his own.

_Ant._ I confess it,
There 'tis: now if you could afford out of it
A reasonable excuse to mine Uncle.

_Bust._ Yes, I can:
But an excuse will not serve your turn: it must be a lye,
A full lye, 'twill do no good else: if you'll go to
The price of that?

_Ant._ Is a lye dearer than an excuse?

_Bust._ Oh, treble; this is the price of an excuse: but a lye
is two more:
Look how many foyles go to a fair fall, so many excuses to
A full lye, and less cannot serve your turn, let any Tailor
I'th' Town make it.

_Mar._ Why 'tis reasonable, give him his price:
Let it be large enough now.

_Bust._ I'll warrant you, cover him all over.

_Ant._ I would have proof of one now.

_Bust._ What? scale my invention before hand? you shall pardon
Me for that; well, I'll commend you to your Uncle, and
Tell him you'll be at home at supper with him.

_Ant._ By no means, I cannot come to night (man)

_Bust._ I know that too, you do not know a lye when you see it.

_Mar._ Remember it must stretch for all night.

_Bust._ I shall want stuffe, I doubt 'twill come to the other
_Pistolet_.

_Ant._ Well, lay out, you shall be no looser Sir.

_Bust._ It must be faced, you know, there will be a yard of
dissimulation
At least (City-measure) and cut upon an untroth or two: Lyned
With Fables, that must needs be, cold weather's coming, if it had
A gallon of hypocrisie, 'twould do well: and hooked
Together with a couple of conceits,
That's necessity; well, I'll bring in my
Bill: I'll warrant you as fair a lye by that time I have done
With it, as any Gentleman i'th' Town can swear to, if he
Would betray his Lord and Master. [_Exit._

_Ant._ So, so, this necessary trouble's over.

_Mar._ I would you had bought an excuse of him
Before he went: you'll want one for _Ismenia_.

_Ant._ Tush, there needs none, there's no suspition yet,
And I'll be arm'd before the next encounter,
In a fast tye with my fair _Isabella_.

_Enter_ Bustofa.

_Mar._ Yes, you'll find your errand is before you now.

_Bust._ Oh Gentlemen, look to your selves, ye are
Men of another world else; your enemies are upon you;
The old house of the _Bellides_ will fall upon your heads:
Signior _Lisauro_.

_Ant. Lisauro?_

_Bust._ And _Don_ what call you him? he's a Gentleman:
Yet he has but a Yeomans name,
Don _Tarso, Tarso_, and a dozen at their heels.

_Ant. Lisauro, Tarso_, nor a dozen more
Shall fright me from my ground, nor shun my path,
Let 'em come on in their ablest fury.

_Mar._ 'Tis worthily resolved: I'll stand by you Sir,
This way, I am thy true friend.

_Bust._ I'll be gone Sir, that one may live to tell what's
become of you.
Put up, put up, will you never learn to know a lye
From an _Esop_'s Fables? there's a tast for you now. [_Exit._

_Enter_ Ismenia _and_ Aminta.

_Mar._ Look Sir, what time of day is it?

_Ant._ I know not, my eyes go false, I dare not trust 'em now,
I prethee tell me (_Martin_) if thou canst,
Is that _Ismenia_ or _Isabella_.

_Mar._ This is the Lady, forget not, _Isabella_.

_Ant._ If this face may be borrowed and lent out,
If it can shift shoulders, and take other tyres,
So, 'tis mine where ere I find it.

_Ism._ Be sudden. [_Exit Aminta._
I cannot hold out long.

_Mar._ Believ't she frowns.

_Ant._ Let it come, she cannot frown me off on't:
How prettily it wooes me to come nearer?
How do you do (Lady) since yesterdays pains?
Were you not weary? of my faith.

_Ism._ I think you were.

_Ant._ What Lady?

_Ism._ Weary of your faith; 'tis a burthen
That men faint under, though they bear little of it.

_Mar._ So, this is to the purpose.

_Ant._ You came home
In a fair hour I hope?

_Enter_ Aminta.

_Ism._ From whence Sir?

_Am._ Sir, there's a Gentlewoman without desires to speak with you.

_Ant._ They were pretty homely toyes: but your presence
Made them illustrious.

_Ism._ My Cosen speaks to you.

_Am._ A Gentlewoman Sir, _Isabella_.
She names her self.

_Mar._ So, so, it hits finely now.

_Ant._ Name your self how you please: speak what you please,
I'll hear you cheerfully.

_Ism._ You are not well,
Request her in, she may have more acquaintance
With his passions, and better cure for 'em.

_Am._ She's nice in that (Madam) poor soul it seems
She's fearful of your displeasure.

_Ism._ I'll quit her
From that presently, and bring her in my self. [_Exit._

_Mar._ How carelesly do you behave your self,
When you should call all your best faculties
To counsel in you! how will you answer
The breach you made with fair _Ismenia_?
Have you forgot the retrograde vow you took
With her, that now is come in evidence?
You'll dye upon your shame, you need no more
Enemies of the house, but the Lady now:
You shall have your dispatch.

_Enter_ Ismenia _like_ Juno.

_Ant._ Give me that face,
And I am satisfied upon whose shoulders
So ere it grows: _Juno_ deliver us
Out of this amazement: Beseech you Goddess
Tell us of our friends, how does _Ismenia_?
And how does _Isabella_? both in good health
I hope, as you your self are.

_Ism._ I am at farthest
In my counterfeit: my _Antonio_
I have matter against you may need pardon,
As I must crave of you.

_Ant._ Observe you Sir,
What evidence is come against me? what think you
The _Hydra_-headed Jury will say to't?

_Mar._ 'Tis I am fool'd,
My hopes are pour'd into the bottomless tubs,
'Tis labour for the house of _Bellides_:
I must not seem so yet: but in sooth (Lady)
Did you imagine your changeable face
Hid you from me? By this hand I knew you.

_Ant._ I went by the face: and by these eyes I
Might have been deceived.

_Ism._ You might indeed (_Antonio_)
For this Gentleman did vow to _Isabella_,
That he it was that lov'd _Ismenia_,
And not _Antonio_?

_Mar._ Good, was not that
A manifest confession that I knew you?
I else had been unjust unto my friend:
'Twas well remembred, there I found you out
And speak your conscience now.

_Ant._ But did he so protest?

_Ism._ Yes, I vow to you, had _Antonio_
Wedded _Isabella, Isme[n]ia_
Had not been lost, there had been her lover.

_Ant._ Why much good do you friend, take her to you:
I crave but one, here have I my wish full,
I am glad we shall be so near neighbors.

_Mar._ Take both Sir, _Juno_ to boot: three parts in one,
S. _Hilarie_ bless you, now opportunity
Beware to meet with falshood, if thou canst
Shun it, my friends faith's turning from him.

_Ism._ Might I not justly accuse _Antonio_
For a love-wanderer? you know no other
But me, for another, and confess troth now?

_Ant._ Here was my guide, where ere I find this face,
I am a Lover, marry, I must not miss
This freckle then, I have the number of 'em,
Nor this dimple, no[t] a silk from this brow,
I carry the full Idea ever with me;
If nature can so punctually parallel,
I may be cozened.

_Ism._ Well, all this is even:
But now, to perfect all, our love must now
Come to our Enemies hands, where neither part
Will ever give consent to't.

_Ant._ Most certain:
For which reason it must not be put to'em:
Have we not prevention in our own hands.
Shall I walk by the tree? desire the fruit,
Yet be so nice to pull till I ask leave
Of the churlish Gard'ner, that will deny me?

_Ism._ O _Antonio_.

_Ant._ 'Tis manners to fall to
When grace is said.

_Ism._ That holy acts to come.

_Mar._ You may open an oyster or two before grace.

_Ant._ Are there not double vows, as valuable
And as well spoke as any Frier utters?
Heaven has heard all.

_Ism._ Yes: but stayes the blessing,
Till all dues be done: heaven is not serv'd by halfs.
We shall have ne'r a fathers blessing here,
Let us not lose the better, from above.

_Ant._ You take up weapons of unequal force,
It shows you cowardly: heark in your ear.

_Am._ Have I lost all imployment? Would this proffer
Had been to me, though I had paid it
With a reasonable pennance.

_Mar._ Have I past
All thy fore-lock (Time?) I'll stretch a long arm
But I'll catch hold again: Do but look back
Over thy shoulder, and have a pull at thee.

_Ism._ I hear you (Sir) nor can I hear too much
While you speak well: You know th'accustom'd place
Of our night-parley: if you can ascend,
The window shall receive you. You may find there
A corrupted Church-man to bid you welcome.

_Ant._ I would meet no other man.

_Ism. Aminta_, you hear this.

_Am._ With joy (Madam) 'cause it pleases you.
It may be mine own case another time:
Now you go the right way; ask the Banes out,
Put it past father, or friends, to forbid it,
And then you're sure. Sir, your _Hymen_ Taper
I'll light up for you: the window shall show you
The way to _Sestos_.

_Ant._ I'll venture drowning.

_Mar._ The simile holds not; 'tis hanging rather.
You must ascend your Castle by a Ladder;
To the foot I'll bring you.

_Ant._ Leave me to climb it.

_Mar._ If I do turn you off?

_Ant._ Till night fare-well:
Then better.

_Ism._ Best it should be;
But peevish hatred keeps back that degree. [_Exeunt._

_Mar._ I never look'd so smooth as now I purpose:
And then beware: Knave is at worst of knave
When he smiles best, and the most seems to save. [_Exit._

_Scæna Secunda._

_Enter_ Julio.

_Jul._ My mind's unquiet; while _Antonio_
My Nephew's abroad, my heart is not at home,
Only my fears stay with me; bad company:
But I cannot shift 'em off. This hatred
Betwixt the house of _Bellides_ and us,
Is not fair war: 'tis civil, but uncivil.
We are near neighbors, were of love as near,
Till a cross misconstruction ('twas no more
In conscience) put us so far asunder:
I would 'twere reconcil'd; it has lasted
Too many Sun-sets, if grace might moderate:
Man should not lose so many days of peace
To satisfie the anger of one minute.
I could repent it heartily. I sent
The knave to attend my _Antonio_ too,
Yet he returns no comfort to me neither.

_Enter_ Bustofa.

_Bust._ No: I must not.

_Jul._ Hah; hee's come.

_Bust._ I must not: 'twill break his heart to hear it.

_Jul._ How? there's bad tidings: I must obscure and hear it;
He will not tell me for breaking of my heart,
'Tis half split already.

_Bust._ I have spi'd him: Now to knock down a Don
with a lye, a silly harmless lye; 'twill be valiantly done, and
nobly perhaps.

_Jul._ I cannot hear him now.

_Bust._ Oh the bloody days that we live in; the envious,
malitious, deadly days that we draw breath in!

_Jul._ Now I hear too loud.

_Bust._ The Children that [n]ever shall be born may rue it;
for men that are slain now might have liv'd to have got children,
that might have curs'd their fathers.

_Jul._ Oh, my posterity is ruin'd.

_Bust._ Oh sweet _Antonio_.

_Jul._ Oh dear _Antonio_.

_Bust._ Yet it was nobly done of both parts: When he and
_Lisauro_ met.

_Jul._ Oh, death Has parted 'em.

_Bust._ Welcome my mortal foe (says one,) Welcome my
deadly enemy (says th'other:) off go their doublets, they in
their shirts, and their swords stark naked; here lies _Antonio_,
here lies _Lisauro_: he comes upon him with an _Embroccado_,
that he puts by with a _puncta reversa_; _Lisauro_ recoils me
two paces and some six inches back, takes his carrere, and
then, on.

_Jul._ Oh.

_Bust._ Runs _Antonio_ quite thorow.

_Jul._ Oh villain.

_Bust._ Quite thorow between the arm and the body: so
yet he had no hurt at that bout.

_Jul._ Goodness be praised.

_Bust._ But then, at next encounter, he fetches me up
_Lisauro_; _Lisauro_ makes out a long at him, which he thinking
to be a _Passado, Antonio's_ foot slipping: down: oh down.

_Jul._ O now thou art lost.

_Bust._ Oh, but the quality of the thing: both Gentlemen,
both Spanish Christians, yet one man to shed....

_Jul._ Say his enemies blood.

_Bust._ His hair, may come by divers casualties, though he
never go into the field with his foe: but a man to lose nine
ounces and two drams of blood at one wound, thirteen and a
scruple at another, and to live till he dye in cold blood: yet
the Surgeon (that cur'd him) said if _Pia-mater_ had not been
perish'd, he had been a lives man till this day.

_Jul._ There he concludes he is gone.

_Bust._ But all this is nothing: now I come to the point.

_Jul._ I, the point, that's deadly: the antient blow
Over the buckler, ne'r went half so deep.

_Bust._ Yet pitty bids me keep in my charity: for me to
pull an old mans ears from his head with telling of a Tale:
oh fowle Tale! No, be silent Tale. Farthermore, there is
the charge of Buriall; every one will cry Blacks, Blacks,
that had but the least finger dipt in his blood, though ten
degrees remov'd when 'twas done. Moreover, the Surgeon
(that made an end of him) will be paid: Sugar-plums and
sweet breads; yet I say, the man may recover again, and dye
in his bed.

_Jul._ What motley stuff is this? Sirrha, speak truth
What hath befallen my dear _Antonio_?
Restrain your pitty in concealing it;
Tell me the danger full; take off your care
Of my receiving it: kill me that way,
I'll forgive my death; what thou keepst back from truth
Thou shalt speak in pain; do not look to find
A limb in his right place, a bone unbroke,
Nor so much flesh unbroil'd of all that mountain,
As a worm might sup on, dispatch, or be dispatch'd.

_Bust._ Alass Sir, I know nothing, but that _Antonio_ is a man
of Gods making to this hour, 'tis not two since I left him so.

_Jul._ Where didst thou leave him?

_Bust._ In the same clothes he had on when he went from you.

_Jul._ Does he live?

_Bust._ I saw him drink.

_Jul._ Is he not wounded?

_Bust._ He may have a cut i'th'leg by this time; for Don
_Martin_ and he were at whole slashes.

_Jul._ Met he not with _Lisauro_?

_Bust._ I do not know her.

_Jul._ Her? _Lisauro_ is a man, as he is.

_Bust._ I saw ne'er a man like him.

_Jul._ Didst thou not discourse a fight betwixt _Ant._ and _Lis_?

_Bust._ I to my self; I hope a man may give himself the lye if
it please him.

_Jul._ Didst thou lye then?

_Bust._ As sure as you live now.

_Jul._ I live the happier by it: when will he return?

_Bust._ That he sent me to tell you, within these ten days
at farthest.

_Jul._ Ten days? he's not wont to be absent two.

_Bust._ Nor I think he will not, he said he would be at
home to morrow, but I love to speak within my compass.

_Jul._ You shall speak within mine Sir, now. Within there.

_Enter Servants._

Take this fellow into custody, keep him safe
I charge you.

_Bust._ Safe? do you hear? take notice what plight you
find me in, if there want but a collop or a steak o'me, look
to't.

_Jul._ If my Nephew return not in his health to morrow,
Thou goest to th'Rack.

_Bust._ Let me go to th'manger first; I had rather eat oats
than hay. [_Exeunt._

_Enter_ Bellides _with a Letter_.

_Bel._ By your leave, Sir.

_Jul._ For ought I know yet, you are welcome Sir.

_Bel._ Read that, and tell me so: or if thy spectacles be not easie,
Keep thy nose unsadl'd, and ope thine ears;
I can speak thee the contents, I made 'em;
'Tis a challenge, a fair one, I'll maintain't:
I scorn to hire my Second to deliver't,
I bring't my self: Dost know me, _Julio_?

_Jul. Bellides?_

_Bel._ Yes: is not thy hair on end now?

_Jul._ Somewhat amaz'd at thy rash hardiness;
How durst thou come so near thine enemy?

_Bel._ Durst?
I dare come nearer: thou'rt a fool, _Julio_.

_Jul._ Take it home to thee with a knave to boot.

_Bel._ Knave to thy teeth again: and all that's quit:
Give me not a fool more than I give thee,
Or if thou dost, look to hear on't again.

_Jul._ What an encounter's this?

_Bel._ A noble one:
My hand is to my words, thou hast it there,
There I do challenge thee, if thou dar'st be
Good friends with me; or I'll proclaim thee coward.

_Jul._ Be friends with thee?

_Bel._ I'll shew thee reasons for't:
A pair of old Coxcombs (now we go together)
Such as should stand examples of discretion,
The rules of Grammar to unwilling youth
To take out lessons by; we that should check
And quench the raging fire in others bloods,
We strike the battel to destruction?
Read 'em the black art? and make 'em believe
It is divinity? Heathens, are we not?
Speak thy conscience, how hast thou slept this month,
Since this Fiend haunted us?

_Jul._ Sure some Good Angel
Was with us both last night: speak thou truth now,
Was it not last nights motion?

_Bel._ Dost not think
I would not lay hold of it at first proffer?
Should I n'er sleep again?

_Jul._ Take not all from me;
I'll tell the doctrine of my vision.
Say that [_Antonio_] (best of thy blood)
Or any one, the least allyed to thee,
Should be the prey unto _Lisauro_'s sword,
Or any of the house of _Bellides_?

_Bel._ Mine was the just inversion: on, on.

_Jul._ How would thine eyes have emptied thee in sorrow,
And left the Conduit of nature drie?
Thy hands have turn'd rebellious to the balls,
And broke the glasses, with thine own curses
Have torn thy soul, left thee a Statue
To propagate thy next posterity.

_Bel._ Yes, and thou causer: so it said to me,
They fight but your mischiefs: the young men were friends,
As is the life and blood coagulate
And curded in one body; but this is yours,
An inheritance that you have gather'd for 'em,
A Legacie of blood to kill each other
Throughout your Generations. Was't not so?

_Jul._ Word for word.

_Bel._ Nay, I can go farther yet.

_Jul._ 'Tis far enough; Let us attone it here.
And in a reconciled circle fold
Our friendship new again.

_Bel._ The sign's in _Gemini_,
An auspicious house, 't has join'd both ours again.

_Jul._ You cannot proclaim me coward now, Don _Bellides_.

_Bel._ No: thou 'rt a valiant fellow: so am I:
I'll fight with thee at this hug, to the last leg
I have to stand on, or breath or life left.

_Jul._ This is the salt unto humanity,
And keeps it sweet.

_Bel._ Love! oh life stinks without it.
I can tell you news.

_Jul._ Good has long been wanting.

_Bel._ I do suspect, and I have some proof on't,
(So far as a Love-Epistle comes to)
That _Antonio_ (your Nephew) and my daughter
_Ismenia_ are very good friends before us.

_Jul._ That were a double wall about our houses,
Which I could wish were built.

_Bel._ I had it
From _Antonio_'s Intimate, Don _Martin_:
And yet (me thought) it was no friendly part
To show it me.

_Jul._ Perhaps 't was his consent:
Lovers have policies as well as Statesmen:
They look not always at the mark they aim at.

_Bel._ Wee'll take up cudgels, and have one bowt with 'em,
They shall know nothing of this union:
And till they find themselves most desperate,
Succor shall never see 'em.

_Jul._ I'll take your part Sir.

_Bel._ It grows late; there's a happy day past us.

_Jul._ The example I hope to all behind it. [_Exeunt._

_Scæna Tertia._

_Enter_ Aminta _(above) with a Taper_.

_Am._ Stand fair, light of Love, which epithite and place
Adds to thee honour, to me it would be shame,
We must be weight in love, no grain too light;
Thou art the Land-mark, but if love be blind,
(As many that can see have so reported)
What benefit canst thou be to his darkness?
Love is a jewel (some say) inestimable,
But hung at the ear, deprives our own sight,
And so it shines to others, not our selves.
I speak my skill, I have only heard on't,
But I could wish a nearer document,
Alass, the ignorant desire to know:
Some say Love's but a toy, and with a but.
Now methinks I should love it ne'er the worse,
A toy is harmless sure, and may be plaid with,
It seldome goes without his adjunct, pretty,
A pretty toy we say, 'tis meeter to joy too.
Well, here may be a mad night yet for all this,
Here's a Priest ready, and a Lady ready:
A chamber ready, and a bed ready,
'Tis then but making unready, and that's soon done:
My Lady is my Cosen; I, my self,
Which is nearest then? My desires are mine,
Say they be hers too, is't a hanging matter?
It may be ventur'd in a worser cause,
I must go question with my conscience:
I have the word; Centinel, do thou stand,
Thou shalt not need to call, I'll be at hand. [_Exit._

_Enter_ Antonio _and_ Martin.

_Ant._ Are we not dog'd behind us, thinkst thou friend?

_Mar._ I heard not one bark, Sir.

_Ant._ There are that bite
And bark not (man:) me-thought I spy'd two fellows
That through two streets together walk'd aloof,
And wore their eyes suspiciously upon us.

_Mar._ Your Jealousie, nothing else; or such perhaps
As are afraid as much of us, who knows
But about the like business? but for your fears sake
I'll advise and intreat one curtesie.

_Ant._ What's that friend?

_Mar._ I will not be denyed, Sir,
Change your upper garments with me.

_Ant._ It needs not.

_Mar._ I think so too, but I will have it so,
If you dare trust me with the better Sir.

_Ant._ Nay then.

_Mar._ If there should be danger towards,
There will be the main mark I'm sure.

_Ant._ Here thou tak'st from me.

_Mar._ Tush, the General
Must be safe, how ere the Battle goes:
See you the Beacon yonder?

_Ant._ Yes, we are near shore.

_Enter 2. Gentlemen with weapons drawn, they set upon_ Martin:
Antonio _pursues them out in rescue of_ Martin.

_Mar._ Come, Land, land, you must clamber by the cliffe,
Here are no stairs to rise by.

_Ant._ I are you there? [_fight and Exeunt._

_Enter_ Aminta _above, and_ Martin _return'd again ascends_.

_Am. Antonio?_

_Mar._ Yes _Ismenia_.

_Am._ Thine own.

_Mar._ Quench the light, thine eyes are guides illustrious.

_Am._ 'Tis necessary. [_Exeunt._

_Enter_ Antonio.

[_Ant._] Your legs have sav'd your lives, who ere you are,
Friend. _Martin?_ where art thou? not hurt I hope:
Sure I was farthest in the pursuit of 'em:
My pleasures are forgotten through my fears:
The lights extinct, it was discreetly done:
They could not but have notice of the broil,
And fearing that might call up company,
Have carefully prevented, and closed up:
I do commend the heed; oh, but my friend,
I fear his hurt: friend? friend? it cannot be
So mortal, that I should lose thee quite, friend?
A groan, any thing that may discover thee:
Thou art not sunk so far, but I might hear thee:
I'll lay mine ear as low as thou canst fall:
Friend, Don _Martin_, I must answer for thee,
'Twas in my cause thou fe[ll]'st, if thou be'st down,
Such dangers stand betwixt us and our joyes,
That should we forethink ere we undertake,
Wee'ld sit at home, and save. What a night's here!
Purpos'd for so much joy, and now dispos'd
To so much wretchedness! I shall not rest in't:
If I had all my pleasures there within,
I should not entertain 'em with a smile.
Good night to you: Mine will be black and sad,
A friend cannot, a woman may be bad. [_Exit._

_Actus Quintus. Scæna Prima._

_Enter_ Ismenia _and_ Aminta.

_Ism._ O thou false.

_Am._ Do your daringst, he's mine own,
Soul and body mine, church and chamber mine,
Totally mine.

_Ism._ Dar'st thou face thy falshood?

_Am._ Shall I not give a welcome to my wishes
Come home so sweetly: farewell your company
Till you be calmer woman. [_Exit._

_Ism._ Oh what a heap
Of misery has one night brought with it.

_Enter_ Antonio.

_Ant._ Where is he? do you turn your shame from me?
You'r a blind Adulteress, you know you are.

_Ism._ How's that _Antonio_?

_Ant._ Till I have vengeance,
Your sin's not pardonable: I'll have him,
If hell hide him not: y'have had your last of him. [_Exit._

_Ism._ What did he speak? I understood him not,
He call'd me a foul name, it was not mine,
He took me for another sure.

_Enter Bellides._

_Bell._ Ha? are you there?
Where's your sweet heart? I have found you Traytor
To my house: wilt league with mine enemy?
You'll shed his blood, you'll say: hah? will you so?
And fight with your heels upwards? No Minion,
I have a husband for you, since y'are so rank,
And such a husband as thou shalt like him,
Whether thou wilt or no: _Antonio_?

_Ism._ It thunders with the storm now.

_Bel._ And to night
I'll have it dispatch'd: I'll make it sure, I,
By to morrow this time thy Maiden-head
Shall not be worth a Chicken, if it were
Knockt at an out-cry: go, I'll ha'ye before me:
Shough, shough, up to your coop, Pea-Hen.

_Ism._ Then I'll try my wings. [_Exit._

_Bel._ I, are you good at that? stop, stop thief, stop there. [_Exit._

_Scæna Secunda._

_Enter_ Otrante _and_ Florimell _singing_.

1. SONG.

Flo. _Now having leisure, and a happy wind,_
_Thou mayst at pleasure cause the stones to grind,_
_Sayls spread, and grist here ready to be ground,_
_Fie, stand not idlely, but let the Mill go round._

_Otr._ Why dost thou sing and dance thus? why so merry?
Why dost thou look so wantonly upon me?
And kiss my hands?

_Flo._ If I were high enough,
I would kiss your lips too.

_Otr._ Do, this is some kindness,
This tastes of willingness, nay, you may kiss
Still, but why o'th' sudden now does the fit take ye,
Unoffer'd, or uncompell'd? why these sweet curtesies?
Even now you would have blush'd to death to kiss thus:
Prethee let me be prepar'd to meet thy kindness,
I shall be unfurnish'd else to hold thee play, wench:
Stay now a little, and delay your blessings;
If this be love, methinks it is too violent:
If you repent you of your strictness to me,
It is so sudden, it wants circumstance.