Chapter IX: Part 9

_Sil._ Ye are a right Courtier,
A great Professor, but a poor performer.

_Rod._ Do you doubt my faith: you never found me that way.
I dare well speak it boldly, but a true friend.

_Sil._ Continue then.

_Rod._ Try me, and see who falters.

_Sil._ I will, and presently: 'tis in your power
To make me the most bound man to your courtesie.

_Rod._ Let me know how, and if I fail--

_Sil._ 'Tis thus then,
Get me access to the Lady _Belvidere_,
But for a minute, but to see her: your Husband now
Is safe at Court, I left him full employ'd there.

_Rod._ You have ask'd the thing without my power to grant ye,
The Law lies on the danger: if I lov'd ye not
I would bid ye goe, and there be found, and dye for't.

_Sil._ I knew your love, and where there shew'd a danger
How far you durst step for me: give me a true friend;
That where occasion is to do a benefit
Aims at the end, and not the rubs before it;
I was a fool to ask ye this, a more fool
To think a woman had so much noble nature
To entertain a secret of this burthen;
Ye had best to tell the Dutchess I perswaded ye,
That's a fine course, and one will win ye credit;
Forget the name of Cosin, blot my blood out,
And so you raise your self, let me grow shorter.
A woman friend? he that believes that weakness
Steers in a stormy night without a Compass.

_Rod._ What is't I durst not do might not impeach ye?

_Sil._ Why this ye dare not do, ye dare not think of.

_Rod._ 'Tis a main hazard.

_Sil._ If it were not so
I would not come to you to seek a favour.

_Rod._ You will lose your self.

_Sil._ The loss ends with my self then.

_Rod._ You will but see her?

_Sil._ Only look upon her.

_Rod._ Not stay?

_Sil._ Prescribe your time.

_Rod._ Not traffique with her
In any close dishonourable action?

_Sil._ Stand you your self by.

_Rod._ I will venture for ye,
Because ye shall be sure I am a touch'd friend,
I'll bring her to ye: come walk, you know the Garden,
And take this key to open the little Postern,
There stand no guards.

_Sil._ I shall soon find it Aunt. [_Exeunt._

_Scæna Secunda._

_Enter two Soldiers._

_1 Sold._ Is the Captain come home?

_2 Sold._ No, who commands the Guard to night?

_1 Sold._ I think _Petruchio_.

_2 Sold._ What's the Word?

_1 Sold._ None knows yet.

_2 Sold._ I would this Lady were married out o'th'way once,
Or out of our custodies; I wish they would take in more companies,
For I am sure we feel her in our duties shrewdly.

_1 Sold._ 'Tis not her fault I warrant ye, she is ready for't,
And that's the plague, when they grow ripe for marriage
They must be slipt like Hawkes.

_2 Sold._ Give me a mean wench,
No State doubt lies on her, she is alwayes ready.

_1 Sold._ Come to the Guard, 'tis late, and sure the Captain
Can not be long away.

_2 Sold._ I have watch'd these three nights,
To morrow they may keep me tame for nothing. [_Exeunt._

_Scæna Tertia._

_Enter_ Silvio, Belvidere, _and_ Rodope _with a Light_.

_Sil._ This is the place I think; what Light is that there?
The Lady and my Cosin?

_Bel._ Is this the Garden?

_Rod._ Yes Madam.

_Sil._ Oh my blessed Mistriss,
Saint of my soul.

_Bel._ Speak softly: take me to ye,
Oh _Silvio_, I am thine, thine ever _Silvio_.

_Rod._ Is this your promise, Sir? Lady your honor?
I am undone if this be seen, disgrac'd,
Fallen under all discredit.

_Bel._ Do you love still?
Dear, do you keep your old faith?

_Sil._ Ever Lady;
And when that fails me, all that's good forsake me.

_Rod._ Do not you shame? Madam, I must not suffer this,
I will not suffer it; men call you virtuous,
What do you mean to lose your self thus; _Silvio_?
I charge thee get away, I charge you retire ye,
I'll call the Watch else.

_Sil._ Call all the world to see us,
We live in one anothers happiness,
And so will die.

_Bel._ Here will I hang for ever.

_Rod._ As ye respect me, as hereafter Madam
You would enjoy his love--nothing prevail with ye?
I'll try my strength then; get thee gone thou villain,
Thou Promise-breaker.

_Sil._ I am tide, I cannot.

_Rod._ I'll ring the Bell then.

_Sil._ Ring it to death, I am fixt here.

_Enter_ Bartello, _two Soldiers with lights_.

_Bart._ I saw a Light over the Garden walk,
Hard by the Ladies Chamber, here's some knavery
As I live, I saw it twice.

_Rod._ The Guard, the Guard there;
I must not suffer this, it is too mischievous.

_Bart._ Light up the Torch, I fear'd this, ha? young _Silvio_?
How got he in?

_1 Sold._ The Devil brought him in sure
He came not by us.

_Bart._ My wife between 'em busling?
Guard, pull him off.

_Rod._ Now, now, ye feel the misery.

_Bart._ You, Madam, at an hour so far undecent?
Death, O my soul! this is a foul fault in ye,
Your mothers care abus'd too, Light's to her Chamber,
I am sorry to see this.

_Bell._ Farewel my _Silvio_,
And let no danger sink thee.

_Sil._ Nor death Lady. [_Exeunt_ Bell. Rod.

_B[a]rt._ Are ye so hot? I shall prepare ye Physick
Will purge ye finely, neatly: you are too fiery,
Think of your prayers, Sir, an you have not forgot 'em;
Can ye flie i' th' air, or creep ye in at key-holes?
I have a Gin will catch ye though you conjur'd:
Take him to Guard to night, to strong and sure Guard;
I'll back to th' Dutchess presently: no less sport serve ye,
Than the Heir to a Dukedom? play at push-pin there Sir?
It was well aim'd, but plague upon't, you shot short,
And that will lose your game.

_Sil._ I know the loss then. [_Exeunt._

_Scæna Quarta._

_Enter_ Claudio _like a Merchant_.

_Clau._ Now, in this habit may I safely see
How my incensed friend carries my murther,
Who little I imagin'd had been wrought
To such a height of rage, and much I grieve now
Mine own blind passion had so master'd me,
I could not see his love, for sure he loves her,
And on a nobler ground than I pretended.

_Enter_ Penurio.

It must be so, it is so; what _Penurio_,
My shotten friend, what wind blew you?

_Pen._ Faith 'tis true,
Any strong wind will blow me like a Feather,
I am all Air, nothing of earth within me,
Nor have not had this month, but that good Dinner
Your Worship gave me yesterday, that staies by me,
And gives me ballast, else the Sun would draw me.

_Cla._ But does my Mistriss speak still of me?

_Pen._ Yes, Sir,
And in her sleep, that makes my Master mad too,
And turn and fart for anger.

_Cla._ Art sure she saw me?

_Pen._ She saw ye at a window.

_Cla._ 'Tis most true,
In such a place I saw a Gentlewoman,
A young, sweet, handsome woman.

_Pen._ That's she, that's she Sir.

_Cla._ And well she view'd me, I view'd her.

_Pen._ Still she Sir.

_Cla._ At last she blush'd, and then look'd off.

_Pen._ That blush, Sir,
If you can read it truly--

_Cla._ But didst thou tell her,
Or didst thou fool me, thou knew'st such a one?

_Pen._ I told her, and I told her such a sweet tale--

_Cla._ But did she hear thee?

_Pen._ With a thousand ears, Sir,
And swallow'd what I said as greedily,
As great-belly'd women do Cherries, stones and all Sir.

_Cla._ Methinks she should not love thy Master?

_Pen._ Hang him Pilcher,
There's nothing loves him: his own Cat cannot endure him,
She had better lye with a Bear, for he is so hairy,
That a tame Warren of Fleas frisk round about him.

_Cla._ And wilt thou work still?

_Pen._ Like a Miner for ye.

_Cla._ And get access.

_Pen._ Or conjure you together,
'Tis her desire to meet: she is poyson'd with him,
And till she take a sweet fresh air, that's you Sir.

_Cla._ There's money for thee: thou art a precious Varlet
Be fat, be fat, and blow thy Master backward.

_Pen._ Blow you my Mistriss, Sir, as flat as a Flounder,
Then blow her up again, as Butchers blow their Veals;
If she dye upon the same
Bury her, bury her in Gods name.

_Cla._ Thou art a merry knave: by this hand I'll feed thee,
Till thou crack'st at both ends, if thou dar'st do this
Thou shall eat no fantastical Porridge,
Nor lick the dish where oil was yesterday,
Dust, and dead Flies to day; Capons, fat Capons--

_Pen._ Oh hearty sound.

_Cla._ Cramb'd full of itching Oysters.

_Pen._ Will ye have the Dutchess?

_Cla._ And Lobsters big as Gauntlets,
Thou shalt despise base Beef.

_Pen._ I do despise it,
And now methinks I feel a Tart come sliding.

_Cla._ Leaping into thy mouth: but first deal faithfully.

_Pen._ When will ye come?

_Cla._ To morrow.

_Pen._ I'll attend ye,
For then my Master will be out in business.

_Cla._ What news abroad?

_Pen._ 'Mas, as I was coming to you,
I heard that Signior _Silvio_, a good Gentleman,
Many a good meal I have eaten wit[h] him--

_Cla._ What of him?

_Pen._ Was this day to be arraigned before the Dutchess,
But why, I could not hear.

_Cla. Silvio_ arraign'd?
Go, get ye gone, and think of me.

_Pen._ I flie Sir. [_Exit_ Pen.

_Cla._ Arraign'd? for what? for my supposed death? no,
That cannot be sure, there's no rumor of it,
Be it what it will, I will be there and see it,
And if my help will bring him off, he has it. [_Exit._

_Scæna Quinta._

_Enter Dutchess, Lords_, Silvio _prisoner_, Belvidere, Bartello,
Rodope, _Clark, Counsellors, Attendants_.

_Du._ Read the Edict last made,
Keep silence there.

Clerk. _If any man of what condition soever, and a subject,_
_after the publishing of this Edict, shall without special_
_Licence from the great Dutchess, attempt or buy, offer,_
_or make an attempt, to solicite the love of the Princess_
Belvidere, _the person so offending, shall forfeit his life_.

_Couns._ The reason why my Royal Mistriss here
In her last Treaty with _Sien[n]as_ Duke,
Promis'd her beauteous daughter there in marriage,
The Duke of _Milan_, rival in this fortune,
Un-nobly sought by practice to betray her;
Which found, and cross'd, the Cittadel receiv'd her
There to secure her Mothers word; the last cause
So many Gentlemen of late enamour'd
On this most beauteous Princess, and not brooking
One more than other, to deserve a favour,
Bloud has been spilt, many brave spirits lost,
And more, unless she had been kept, close from their violence,
Had like to have followed: therefore for due prevention
Of all such hazards and unnoble actions,
This last Edict was published, which thou _Silvio_
Like a false man, a bad man, and a Traitor
Hast rent a-peeces, and contemn'd, for which cause
Thou standest a guilty man here now.

_Enter_ Claudio.

_Clark._ Speak _Silvio_,
What canst thou say to avoid the hand of Justice?

_Sil._ Nothing, but I confess, submit and lay my head to it.

_Bel._ Have ye no eyes my Lords, no understandings?
The Gentleman will cast himsel[f] away,
Cast himself wilfully: are you, or you guilty?
No more is he, no more taint sticks upon him:
I drew him thither; 'twas my way betrai'd him,
I got the entrance kept, I entertain'd him,
I hid the danger from him, forced him to me,
Poor gentle soul, he's in no part transgressing,
I wrote unto him.

_Sil._ Do not wrong that honor,
Cast not upon that pureness these aspersions,
[By Heaven it] was my love, my violence,
My life must answer it: I broke in to her,
Tempted the Law, solicited unjustly.

_Bel._ As there is truth in Heaven, I was the first cause:
How could this man have come to me, left naked
Without my counsel and provision?
What hour could he find out to pass the Watches,
But I must make it sure first? Reverend Judges,
Be not abus'd, nor let an innocent life lie
Upon your shaking Conscience; I did it,
My love the main wheel that set him a going:
His motion but compell'd.

_Sil._ Can ye believe this?
And know with what a modesty and whiteness
Her life was ever ranck'd? Can you believe this
And see me here before ye, young and wilful?
Apt to what danger Love dares thrust me on,
And where Law stops my way, apt to contemn it?
If I were bashful, old, or dull, and sleepy
In Loves allarms, a woman might awake me,
Direct, and clew me out the way to happiness:
But I, like fire, kindled with that bright beauty,
Catch hold of all occasions, and run through 'em.

_Bel._ I charge ye, as your honest souls will answer it.

_Sil._ I charge ye, as you are the friends to virtue,
That has no pattern living but this Lady.

_Bel._ Let not his blood--

_Sil._ Let not her wilfulness--
For then you act a Scene Hell will rejoyce at.

_Bel._ He is clear.

_Sil._ She is as white in this as Infants.

_Cla._ The god of Love protect your cause, and help ye,
Two nobler pieces of affection
These eyes ne'er look'd on, if such goodness perish,
Let never true hearts meet again, but break. [_Exit._

_1 Lord._ A strange exemple of strong love, a rare one.

_2 Lord._ Madam, we know not what to say, to think on.

_Dutch._ I must confess it strikes me tender too,
Searches my Mothers heart: you found 'em there?

_Bar._ Yes certain Madam.

_Dutch._ And so linked together?

_Bar._ As they had been one piece of Alablaster.

_Dutch._ Nothing dishonourable?

_Sil._ So let my soul have happiness,
As that thought yet durst never seek this bosom.

_Dutch._ What shall I do? 'has broke my Law, abus'd me,
Fain would I know the truth, either confess it,
And let me understand the main offender,
Or both shall feel the torture.

_Sil._ Are ye a Mother;
The Mother of so sweet a Rose as this is?
So pure a Flower? and dare ye lose that nature?
Dare ye take to your self so great a wickedness,
(Oh holy Heaven) of thinking what may ruine
This goodly building? this Temple where the gods dwell?
Give me a thousand tortures, I deserve 'em,
And shew me death in all the shapes imagin'd.

_Bel._ No death but I will answer it, meet it, seek it;
No torture but I'll laugh upon't, and kiss it.

_1 Lord._ This is no way.

_2 Lord._ They say no more for certain
Than their strong hearts will suffer.

_Dutch._ I have bethought me;
No Lords, although I have a Child offending,
Nature dares not forget she is a Child still;
Till now, I never look'd on love imperious:
I have bethought me of a way to break ye,
To separate, though not your loves, your bodies:
_Silvio_ attend, I'll be your Judge my self now,
The sentence of your death (because my Daughter
Will bear an equal part in your afflictions)
I take away and pardon: this remains then
An easie and a gentle punishment,
And this shall be fulfill'd: because unnobly
You have sought the love, and marriage of a Princess,
The absolute and sole Heir of this Dukedom,
By that means, as we must imagine strongly,
To plant your self into this rule hereafter,
We here pronounce ye a man banish'd from us.

_Sil._ For ever banish'd Lady?

_Dutch._ Yet more mercy,
But for a year: and then again in this place
To make your full appearance: yet more pitty,
If in that time you can absolve a question,
Writ down within this scrowl, absolve it rightly,
This Lady is your wife, and shall live with ye;
If not, you loose your head.

_Sil._ I take this honor,
And humbly kiss those Royal hands.

_Dutch._ Receive it: _Bartello_, to your old guard take the Princess,
And so the Court break up.

_Sil._ Farewel to all,
And to that spotless heart my endless service. [_Exit._

_1 Lord._ What will this prove?

_2 Lord._ I'll tell you a year hence, Sir. [_Exeunt._

_Scæna Sexta._

_Enter_ Penurio, Isabella, Claudio.

_Pen._ Are you pleas'd now? have not I wrought this wonder
_Non eben fatto Signieur_.

_Cla._ Rarely _Penurio_.

_Pen._ Close, close then, and work wax.

_Cla._ I am studying for thee
A dinner, that shall victual thee for ten year.

_Pen._ Do you hear Mistriss?
You know what a dundir whelp my Master is,
I need not preach to ye, how unfit and wanting
To give a woman satisfaction:
How he stinks, and snores, a Bull's a better bed-fellow;
And for his love, never let that deceive ye.

_Isab._ Nay sure he loves me not.

_Pen._ If he could coyn ye,
Or turn ye into mettal, much might be then;
He loves not any thing but what is traffique:
I have heard him swear he would sell ye to the _Grand Signior_.

_Isab._ The _Turk_?

_Pen._ The very _Turk_, and how they would use ye.

_Isab._ I'll fit him for't: the _Turk_?

_Pen._ I know the price too:
Now ye have time to pay him, pay him home Mistriss;
Pay him o' th' pate, clout him for all his courtesies;
Here's one that dances in your eyes, young delicate
To work this vengeance; if ye let it slip now,
There is no pittying of ye, od's precious, Mistriss,
Were I his wife, I would so mall his Mazard,
'Tis charity, meer charity, pure charity,
Are you the first? has it not been from _Eves_ time,
Women would have their safe revenges this way?
And good and gracious women, excellent women;
Is't not a handsome Gentleman? a sweet Gentleman;
View him from head to foot, a compleat Gentleman;
When can ye hope the like again? I leave ye,
And my revenge too, with ye; I know my office,
I'll not be far off, be not long a fumbling,
When danger shall appear, I'll give the 'larme. [_Exit._

_Isab._ You are welcome, Sir, and would it were my fortune
To afford a Gentleman of your fair seeming,
A freer entertainment than this house has,
You partly know, Sir.--

_Cla._ Know, and pity Lady,
Such sweetness in the bud, should be so blasted;
Dare you make me your Servant?

_Isab._ Dare you make Sir,
That service worthy of a womans favour
By constancy and goodness?

_Cla._ Here I swear to ye,
By the unvalued love I bear this beauty,
(And kiss the Book too) never to be recreant,
To honour ye, to truly love, and serve ye,
My youth to wait upon ye, what my wealth has.

_Isab._ Oh make me not so poor to sell affection,
Those bought loves Sir, wear faster than the moneys;
A handsome Gentleman.

_Cla._ A most delicate sweet one,
Let my truth purchase then.

_Isab._ I should first try it,
But you may happily.--

_Cla._ You shall not doubt me,
I hope she loves me; when I prove false, shame take me;
Will ye believe a little?

_Isab._ I fear, too much, Sir.

_Cla._ And will ye love a little?

_Isab._ That should be your part:

_Cla._ Thus I begin then, thus and thus.

_Isab._ A good beginning,
We have a proverb saies, makes a good ending.

_Cla._ Say ye so? 'tis well inferr'd.

_Isab._ Good Sir, your patience:
Methinks I have ventur'd now, like a weak Bark
Upon a broken billow, that will swallow me,
Upon a rough Sea of suspitions,
Stuck round with jealous rocks.

_Pen. within._ A hem, a hem there.

_Isab._ This is my man; my fears too soon have found me,

_Enter_ Penurio.

Now what's the news?

_Pen._ A pox of yonder old Rigel,
The Captain, the old Captain.

_Isab._ What old Captain?

_Pen._ Captain courageous yonder of the Castle,
Captain, Don _Diego_, old _Bartello_.

_Isab._ Where is he?

_Pen._ He's coming in:
'Twould vex the Devil, that such an old Potgun as this,
That can make no sport, should hinder them that can do it.

_Isab._ I would not have him see the Gentleman,
For all the world, my credit were undone then.

_Pen._ Shall I fling a piss-pot on's head as he comes in,
And take him into th' kitchin, there to drie him.

_Isab._ That will not do; and he is so humorous too
He will come in.

_Cla._ What is he?

_Isab._ One much troubles me.

_Pen._ And can do nothing, cannot eat.

_Isab._ Your sight now,
Out of a driveling dotage he bears to me,
May make him tell my husband, and undo me.

_Cla._ What would ye have me do?

_Isab._ But for a while Sir,
Step here behind this hanging, presently
I'll answer him, and then--

_Cla._ I will obey ye.

_Enter_ Bartello.

_Bar._ Where's my rich Jeweller? I have stones to sett.

_Pen._ He is abroad, and sure Sir.

_Bart._ There's for your service:
Where's the fair Lady? all alone sweet beauty?

_Isab._ She's never much alone Sir, that's acquainted
With such companio[n]s as good honest thoughts are.

_Bar._ I'll sit down by thee, and I'll kiss thy hand too,
And in thine ear swear by my life I love thee.

_Isab._ Ye are a merry Captain.

_Bar._ And a mad one, Lady;
By th' mas thou hast goodly eies, excellent eies, wench,
Ye twinkling rogues, look what thy Captain brings thee,
Thou must needs love me, love me heartily,
Hug me, and love me, hug me close.

_Isab._ Fie Captain.

_Bar._ Nay, I have strength, and I can strain ye sirrah,
And vault into my seat as nimbly, little one.
As any of you[r] smooth-chinn'd boys in _Florence_,
I must needs commit a little folly with ye,
I'll not be long, a brideling cast, and away wench;
The hob-nail thy husband's as fitly out o'th' way now?

_Isab._ Do you think he keeps a bawdy-house?

_Bar._ That's all one.

_Isab._ Or did you ever see that lightness in my carriage,
That you might promise to your self--.

_Bar._ Away fool,
A good turn's a good turn; I am an honest fellow:

_Isab._ You have a handsome wife, a virtuous Gentlewoman.

_Bar._ They are not for this time o'th' year.

_Isab._ A Lady,
That ever bore that great respect to you,
That noble constancy.

_Bar._ That's more than I know.

_Enter Maid, and_ Penurio.

_Maid._ Oh Mistriss, ye are undone, my Master's coming.

_Pen._ Coming hard by here.

_Bar._ Plague consume the Rascal,
Shall I make petty-patties of him?

_Isab._ Now what love Sir?
Fear of your coming made him jealous first;
Your finding here, will make him mad and desperate,
And what in that wild mood he will execute--

_Bar._ I can think of nothing, I have no wit left me,
Certain my head's a Mustard-pot.

_Isab._ I have thought Sir,
And if you'll please to put in execution
What I conceive--

_Bar._ I'll do it, tell it quickly.

_Isab._ Draw your sword quickly, and go down inrag'd,
As if you had persu'd some foe up hither,
And grumble to your self extreamly, terribly,
But not a word to him, and so pass by him.

_Bar._ I'll do it perfectly.

_Enter_ Lopez.

_Isa[b]._ Stand you still good Sir.

_Bar._ Rascal, slave, villain, take a house so poorly,
After thou hast wrong'd a Gentleman, a Soldier,
Base Poultroon boy, you will forsake your neast sirrah.

_Lop._ The matter, good sweet Captain?

_Bart._ Run-away rogue,
And take a house to cover thy base cowardize,
I'll whip ye, I'll so scourge ye. [_Exit._

_Lop._ Mercy upon me,
What's all this matter wife?

_Isab._ Did you meet the mad man?

_Lop._ I never saw the Captain so provok'd yet.

_Isab._ Oh he's a Devil sure, a most bloody devil,
He follow'd a young Gentleman, his sword drawn,
With such a fury, how I shake to think on't,
And foyn'd, and slash'd at him, and swore he'd kill him,
Drove him up hither, follow'd him still bloodily,
And if I had not hid him, sure had slain him;
A merciless old man.

_[C]la._ Most virtuous Lady,
Even as the giver of my life, I thank ye.

_Lop._ This fellow must not stay here, he is too handsome;
He is gone Sir, and you may pass now with all security,
I'll be your guide my self, and such a way
I'll lead ye, none shall cross, nor none shall know ye.
The door's left open Sirrah, I'll starve you for this trick,
I'll make thee fast o' Sundaies; and for you Lady,
I'll have your Lodgings farther off, and closer,
I'll have no street-lights to you; will you go Sir?

_Cla._ I thank ye Sir: the devil take this fortune;
And once more all my service to your goodness. [_Exit._

_Pen._ Now could I eat my very arms for madness,
Cross'd in the nick o' th' matter! vengeance take it,
And that old Cavalier that spoil'd our Cock-fight;
I'll lay the next plot surer.

_Isab._ I am glad and sorry;
Glad, that I got so fairly off suspition;
Sorry, I lost my new lov'd friend.

_Pen._ Not lost Mistriss;
I'll conjure once again to raise that spirit;
In, and look soberly upon the matter,
We'll ring him one peal more, and if that fall,
The devil tak the Clappers, Bells, and all. [_Exeunt._

_Actus Tertius. Scæna Prima._

_Enter Dutchess, Lords, and_ Rhodope.

_Dutch._ Now _Rodope_, How do you find my daughter?

_Rho._ Madam, I find her now what you would have her,
What the State wishes her; I urg'd her fault to her,
Open'd her eyes, and made her see the mischief
She was running with a headlong will into,
Made her start at her folly, shake and tremble,
At the meer memory of such an ignorance,
She now contemns his love, hates his remembrance,
Cannot endure to hear the name of _Silvio_;
His person spits at.

_Dutch._ I am glad to hear this.

_Rho._ And humbly now to your Will, your care, Madam,
Bends her affections, bows her [best] obedience;
_Syenna's_ Duke, with new eyes now she looks on,
And with a Princely love, fit for his person.
Returns that happiness and joy he look'd for;
The general good of both the neighbor Dukedoms,
Not any private end, or rash affection
She aims at now: hearing the Duke arriv'd too,
(To whom she owes all honor, and all service,)
She charg'd me kneel thus at your Graces feet,
And not to rise without a general pardon.

_Dutch._ She has it, and my love again, my old love,
And with more tenderness I meet this penitence,
Than if she ne'er had started from her honor;
I thank ye _Rhodope_, am bound to thank ye,
And daily to remember this great service,
This honest faithful service; go in peace,
And by this Ring, delivered to _Bartello_,
Let her enjoy our favour, and her liberty,
And presently to this place, with all honor,
See her conducted.

_Rho._ Your Grace has made me happy. [_Exit._

_Enter 1 Lord._

_1 Lord. Syenna's_ noble Duke, craves his admitta[nc]e.

_Enter Duke of_ Syenna _with Attendants_.

_Dutch._ Go; wait upon his Grace; fair Sir, you are welcome,
Welcome to her ever admir'd your virtues:
And now methinks, my Court looks truly noble;
You have taken too much pains Sir.

_Syen._ Royal Lady,
To wait upon your Grace is but my service.

_Dutch._ Keep that Sir, for the Saint ye have vow'd it to.

_Syen._ I keep a life for her: since your Grace pleases
To jump so happily into the matter,
I come indeed to claim your Royal promise,
The beauteous _Belvidere_ in marriage,
I come to tender her my youth, my fortune,
My everlasting love.

_Enter_ Belvidere, Bartello, Rhodope, _Attendants_.

_Dutch._ You are like to win, Sir:
All is forgot, forgiven too; no sadness
My good Child, you have the same heart still here,
The Duke of _Syenna_, Child, pray use him nobly.

_Sy._ An Angel beauty.

_Bel._ Your Grace is fairly welcome,
And what in modesty a blushing maid may
Wish to a Gentleman of your great goodness;
But wishes are too poor a pay for Princes.

_Sy._ You have made me richer than all States and Titles,
One kiss of this white hand's above all honors,
My faith dear Lady, and my fruitful service,
My duteous zeal--

_Bel._ Your Grace is a great Master,
And speaks too powerfully to be resisted:
Once more you are welcome, Sir, to me you are welcome,
To her that honors ye; I could say more Sir,
But in anothers tongue 'twere better spoken.

_Sy._ As wise as fair, you have made your servant happy;
I never saw so rich a Mine of sweetness.

_Dutch._ Will your Grace please, after your painful journey
To take some rest? Are the Dukes Lodgings ready?

_Lord._ All Madam.

_Dutch._ Then wait upon his Grace, all, and to morrow, Sir,
We'll shew ye in what high esteem we hold ye,
Till then a fair repose.

_Sy._ My fairest service. [_Exit Duke_, &c.

_Dutch._ You have so honour'd me, my dearest daughter,
So truly pleas'd me in this entertainment,
I mean your loving carriage to _Syenna_,
That both for ever I forget all trespasses,
And to secure you next of my full favour,
Ask what you will within my power to grant ye,
Ask freely: and if I forget my promise--
Ask confidently.

_Bel._ You are too Royal to me;
To me that have so foolishly transgress'd you,
So like a Girl, so far forgot my virtue,
Which now appears as base and ugly to me,
As did his Dream, that thought he was in Paradise,
Awak'd and saw the Devil; how was I wander'd?
With what eies could I look upon that poor, that cours thing,
That wretched thing call'd _Sylvio_? that (now) despis'd thing,
And lose an object of that graceful sweetness,
That god-like presence as _Syenna_ is?
Darkness, a[n]d cheerful day, had not such difference:
But I must ever bless your care, your wisdom,
That led me from this labyrinth of folly,
How had I sunk else? what example given?

_Dutch._ Prethee no more, and as thou art my best one,
Ask something that may equal such a goodness.

_Bel._ Why did ye let him go so slightly from ye,
More like a man in triumph, than condemn'd:
Why did ye make his pennance but a question,
A Riddle, every idle wit unlocks.

_Dutch._ 'Tis not so,
Nor do not fear it so: he will not find it,
I have given that (unless my self discover it)
Will cost his head.

_Bel._ 'Tis subject to construction?

_Dutch._ That it is too.

_Bel._ It may be then absolv'd,
And then are we both scorn'd and laugh'd at, Madam;
Beside the promise you have ty'd upon it,
Which you must never keep.

_Dutch._ I never meant it.

_Bel._ For heaven sake let me know it, 'tis my Suit to ye,
The Boon you would have me ask; let me but see it,
That if there be a way to make't so strong,
No wit nor powerful reason can run through it,
For my disgrace, I may beg of heaven to grant it.

_Dutch._ Fear not, it has been put to sharper judgements
Than e'er he shall arrive at: my dear Father,
That was as fiery in his understanding,
And ready in his wit as any living,
Had it two years, and studied it, yet lost it:
This night ye are my Bed-fellow, there Daughter
Into your bosom I'll commit this secret,
And there we'll both take counsel.

_Bel._ I shall find
Some trick I hope too strong yet for his mind. [_Exeunt._

_Scæna Secunda._

_Enter_ Penurio.

_Pen._ Methinks I am batten'd well of late, grown lusty,
Fat, high, and kicking, thanks to the bounteous _Rugio_;
And now, methinks I scorn these poor repasts,
Cheese-parings, and the stinking tongues of Pilchers;
But why should I remember these? they are odious,
They are odious in mine eyes; the full fat dish now,
The bearing dish is that I reverence,
The dish an able Serving-man sweats under,
And bends i' th' hams, as if the house hung on him,
That dish is the dish: hang your bladder Bankets,
Or halfe a dozen of Turnops and two Mushrumps,
These when they breed their best, hatch but two belches;
The state of a fat Turkey, the decorum
He marches in with, all the train and circumstance;
'Tis such a matter, such a glorious matter,
And then his sauce with Oranges and Onions,
And he displaid in all parts, for such a dish now,
And at my need I would betray my Father,
And for a rosted Conger, all my Countrey.

_Enter_ Bartello.

_Bar._ What my friend _Lean-gut_, how does thy beauteous Mistriss?
And where's your Master Sirrah? where's that horn-pipe?

_Pen._ My Mistriss, Sir, does as a poor wrong'd Gentlewoman,
Too much, heaven knows, opprest with injuries;
May do and live.

_Bar._ Is the old fool still jealous?

_Pen._ As old fools are, and will be still the same, Sir.

_Bar._ He must have cause: he must have cause.

_Pen._ 'Tis true, Sir,
And would he had with all my heart.

_Bar._ He shall have.

_Pen._ For then he had Salt to his Saffron porridge.

_Bar._ Why do not [I] see thee sometime? why thou starv'd rascal?
Why do not ye come to me, you precious bow-case?
I keep good meat at home, good store.

_Pen._ Yes Sir, I will not fail ye all next week.

_Bar._ Thou art welcome,
I have a secret I would fain impart to thee,
But thou art so thin, the wind will blow it from thee,
Or men will read it through thee.

_Pen._ Wrap't up in beef Sir,
In good gross beef, let all the world look on me,
The English have that trick to keep intelligence.

_Bar._ A wi[tt]y knave, first there's to tie your tongue up.

_Pen._ Dumb as a Dog, Sir.

_Bar._ Next, hark in your ear, Sirrah.

_Pen._ Well, very well, excellent well: 'tis done, Sir,
Say no more to me.

_Bar._ Say and hold.

_Pen._ 'Tis done, Sir.

_Bar._ As thou lov'st butter'd eggs, swear.

_Pen._ Let me kiss the Book first,
But here's my hand, brave Captain.

_Bar._ Look ye hold, sirrah. [_Exit._

_Pen._ Oh the most precious vanity of this world;
When such dry'd Neats-tongues must be soak'd and larded
With young fat supple wenches! Oh the Devil.
What can he do, he cannot suck an egg off
But his back's loose i'th' hilts: go thy wayes Captain,
Well may thy warlike name work Miracles,
But if e'er thy founder'd courser win [match] more,
Or stand right but one train--

_Enter three Gentlemen._

_1 Gen._ Now Signior _Shadow_,
What art thou thinking of, how to rob thy Master?

_Pen._ Of his good deeds? The Thief that undertakes that
Must have a hook will poze all Hell to hammer:
Have ye dined Gentlemen, or do you purpose?

_2 Gent._ Dined, two long hours ago.

_Pen._ Pray ye take me with ye.

_3 Gent._ To supper dost thou mean?

_Pe[n]._ To any thing
That has the smell of meat in't: tell me true, Gentlemen,
Are not you three going to be sinful?
To iropard a joynt, or so? I have found your faces,
And see whore written in your eyes.

_1 Gent._ A parlous rascal,
Thou art much upon the matter.

_Pen._ Have a care Gentlemen,
'Tis a sore age, very sore age, lewd age,
And women now are like old Knights adventures,
Full of inchanted flames, and dangerous.

_2 Gent._ Where the most danger is, there's the most honor.

_Pen._ I grant ye, honor most consists in sufferance,
And by that rule you three should be most honorable.

_3 Gent._ A subtle Rogue: but canst thou tell _Penurio_
Where we may light upon--

_Pen._ A learned Surgeon?

_3 Gent._ Pox take ye fool; I mean good wholsome wenches.

_Pen._ 'Faith wholsome women will but spoil ye too,
For you are so us'd to snap-haunces: But take my counsel,
Take fat old women, fat, and five and fifty,
The Dog-dayes are come in.

_2 Gent._ Take fat old women?

_Pen._ The fatter and the older, still the better,
You do not know the pleasure of an old Dame,
A fat old Dame, you do not know the knack on't:
They are like our countrey Grotts, as cool as _Christmas_,
And sure i' th' keels.

_1 Gent._ Hang him starv'd fool: he mocks us.

_3 Gent. Penurio_, thou know'st all the handsome wenches?
What shall I give thee for a Merchants wife now?

_Pen._ I take no money Gentlemen, that's base,
I trade in meat, a Merchants wife will cost ye
A glorious Capon; a great shoulder of Mutton;
And a Tart as big as a Conjurers Circle.

_3 Gent._ That's cheap enough.

_1 Gent._ And what a Haberdashers?

_Pen._ Worse meat will serve for her, a great Goose-Pie,
But you must send it out o' th' Countrey to me,
It will not do else: with a piece of Bacon,
And if you can, a pot of Butter with it.

_2 Gent._ Now do I aim at horse-flesh: what a Parsons?

_Pen._ A Tithe-Pig has no fellow, if I fetch her,
If she be Puritane, Plumb-porridge does it,
And a fat loin of Veal, well sauc'd and roasted.

_2 Gent._ We'll meet one night, and thou shalt have all these;
O' that condition we may have the wenches
A dainty rascal.

_Pen._ When your stomachs serve ye,
(For mine is ever ready) I'll supply ye.

_1 Gent._ Farewel, and there's to fill thy paunch.

_Pen._ Brave Gentleman.

_2 Gent._ Hold sirrah, there.

_Pen._ Any young wench i' th' Town, Sir.

_3 Gent._ It shall go round. [_Exit Gent._

_Pen._ Most honorable Gentlemen,
All these are Courtiers, but they are meer Coxcombs,
And only for a wench, their purses open,
Nor have they so much judgement left to chuse her;
If e'r they call upon me, I'll so fit 'em,
I have a pack of wry-mouth'd mackrel Ladies,
Stink like a standing ditch, and those dear Damsels;
But I forget my business, I thank ye Monsieurs,
I have a thousand whimseys in my brain now. [_Exit._

_Scæna Tertia._

_Enter (to a Banquet) Dutchess_, Syenna, _Lords, Attendants_.

_Dutch._ Your Grace shall now perceive how much we honor ye
And in what dear regard we hold your friendship:
Will you sit Sir, and grace this homely Banquet?

_Sy._ Madam, to your poor friend, you are too magnificent.

_Dutch._ To the Dukes health, and all the joyes I wish him,
Let no man miss this cup: have we no Musick?

_Sy._ Your noble favours still you heap upon me,
But where's my virtuous Mistriss, such a Feast,
And not her sparkling beauty here to bless it?
Methinks it should not be, it shews not fully.

_Dutch._ Young Ladies Sir; are long, and curious
In putting on their trims, forget how day goes,
And then 'tis their good morrow when they are ready:
Go some and call her, and wait upon her hither,
Tell her the Duke and I desire her company:
I warrant ye, a hundred dressings now
She has survey'd, this, and that fashion look'd on,
For Ruffs and Gowns; cast this away, these Jewels
Suited to these and these knots: o' my life Sir,
She fears your curious eye will soon discover else:
Why stand ye still, why gape ye on one another?
Did I not bid ye go, and tell my Daughter?
Are ye nailed here? nor stir? nor speak? who am I,
And who are you?

_1 Lord._ Pardon me, gracious Lady,
The fear to tell you that you would not hear of
Makes us all dumb, the Princess is gone, Madam.

_Dutch._ Gone? whither gone? some wiser fellow answer me.

_2 Lord._ We sought the Court all over, and believe Lady
No news of where she is, nor how convey'd hence.

_Dutch._ It cannot be, it must not be.

_1 Lord._ 'Tis true, Madam,
No room in all the Court, but we search'd through it,
Her women found her want first, and they cry'd to us.

_Dutch._ Gone? stol'n away? I am abus'd, dishonour'd.

_Sy._ 'Tis I that am abus'd, 'tis I dishonour'd.
Is this your welcome, this your favour to me?
To foist a trick upon me, this trick too,
To cheat me of my love? Am I not worthy?
Or since I was your guest, am I grown odious?

_Dutch._ Your Grace mistakes me, as I have a life, Sir.

_Sy._ And I another, I will never bear this,
Never endure this dor.

_Dutch._ But hear me patiently.

_Sy._ Give me my Love.

_Dutch._ As soon as care can find her,
And all care shall be used.

_Sy._ And all my care too,
To be reveng'd; I smell the trick, 'tis too rank,
Fie, how it smells o' th' Mother.

_Dutch._ You wrong me, Duke.

_Sy._ For this disgrace ten thousand _Florentines_
Shall pay their dearest bloods, and dying curse ye,
And so I turn away, your mortal enemy. [_Exit._

_Duc._ Since ye are so high and hot Sir, ye have half arm'd us,
Be careful of the Town, of all the Castles,
And see supplies of Soldiers every where,
And Musters for the Field when he invites us,
For he shall know 'tis not high words can fright us.
My Daughter gone? has she so finely cozen'd me?
This is for _Silvio_'s sake sure, Oh cunning false one;
Publish a Proclamation thorough the Dukedom.
That whosoe'er can bring to th' Court young _Silvio_,
Alive or dead, beside our thanks and favour,
Shall have two thousand Duckets for his labour;
See it dispatch'd, and sent in haste: Oh base one. [_Exeunt._

_Scæna Quarta._

_Enter_ Isabella, _and_ Penurio _with a Light_.

_Isab._ Was't thou with _Rugio_?

_Pen._ Yes marry was I closely.

_Isab._ And does he still remember his poor Mistriss?
Does he desire to see me?

_Pen._ Yes, and presently:
Puts off all business else, lives in that memory,
And will be here according to directions.

_Isab._ But where's thy Master?

_Pen._ Where a coxcomb should be,
Waiting at Court with his Jewels,
Safe for this night I warrant ye.

_Isab._ I am bound to thee.

_Pen._ I would ye were, as close as I could tye ye.

_Isab._ Thou art my best, my truest friend.

_Pen._ I labour
I moil and toil for ye: I am your hackney.

_Isab._ If ever I be able--

_Pen._ Steal the great Cheese Mistriss,
Was sent him out o'th' Countrey.

_Isab._ Any thing.

_Pen._ That's meat, 'tis lawful Mistriss: where's the Castle Custard
He got at Court?

_Isab._ He has lock'd it in's study.

_Pen._ Get a warrant to search for counterfeit Gold.

_Isab._ Give me thy Candle,
I'll find a time to be thy careful Cater.

_Pen._ And many a time I'll find to be his Cook,
And dress his Calves head to the sweetest sauce Mistriss.

_Isab._ To bed _Penurio_, go, the rest is my charge,
I'll keep the Watch out.

_Pen._ Now if you spare him-- [_Exit._

_Isab._ Peace fool,
I hope my _Rugio_ will not fail, 'twould vex me:
Now to my string; so, sure he cannot miss now,
And this end to my finger: I'll lie down,
For on a suddain I am wondrous heavy,
'Tis very late too; if he come and find this,
And pull it, though it be with easie motion
I shall soon waken, and as soon be with him.

_Enter_ Lopez.

_Lop._ Thou secret friend, how am I bound to love thee!
And how to hug thee for thy private service!
Thou art the Star all my suspitions sail by,
The fixed point my wronged honor turns to,
By thee I shall know all, find all the subtilties
Of devilish women, that torment me daily:
Thou art my Conjurer, my Spell, my Spirit,
All's hush'd and still, no sound of any stirring,
No tread of living thing: the Light is in still,
And there's my Wife, how prettily the fool lies,
How sweet, and handsomely, and in her clothes too,
Waiting for me upon my life; her fondness
Would not admit her rest till I came to her:
O careful fool, why am I angry with thee?
Why do I think thou hat'st thy loving Husband?
[I] am an Ass, an over-doting Coxcomb,
And this sweet soul, the mirror of perfection:
How admirable fair and delicate,
And how it stirs me, I'll sing thy sweets a Requiem,
But will not waken thee.

SONG.

_Oh fair sweet face, oh eyes celestial bright,_
_Twin Stars in Heaven, that now adorn the night;_
_Oh fruitful Lips, where Cherries ever grow,_
_And Damask cheeks, where all sweet beauties blow;_
_Oh thou from head to foot divinely fair_,
Cupid's _most cunning Nets made of that hair,_
_And as he weaves himself for curious eyes;_
_Oh me, Oh me, I am caught my self, he cries:_
_Sweet rest about thee sweet and golden sleep,_
_Soft peaceful thoughts, your hourly watches keep,_
_Whilst I in wonder sing this sacrifice,_
_To beauty sacred, and those Angel-eyes._

Now will I steal a kiss, a dear kiss from her,
And suck the Rosie breath of this bright beauty;
What a Devil is this? ty'd to her finger too?
A string, a damned string to give intelligence
Oh my lov'd key, how truly hast thou serv'd me;
I'll follow this: soft, soft, to th' door it goes,
And through to th' other side; a damned string 'tis,
I am abus'd, topt, cuckolded, fool'd, jaded,
Ridden to death, to madness; stay, this helps not:
Stay, stay, and now invention help me,
I'll sit down by her, take this from her easily,
And thus upon mine own: Dog, I shall catch ye,
With all your cunning, Sir: I shall light on ye,
I felt it pull sure: yes, but wondrous softly,
'Tis there again, and harder now, have at ye,
Now and thou scap'st, the Devil's thy ghostly father. [_Exit._

_Isab._ Sure 'twas my husband's voice, the string is gone too,
He has found th[e] trick on't: I am undone, betray'd,
And if he meet my friend he perishes,
What fortune follows me, what spightful fortune?
Hoa _Jaquenet_.

_Enter_ Jaquenet.

_Jaq._ Here Mistriss, do you call me?

_Isab._ Didst thou hear no noise?

_Jaq._ I hear my Master mad yonder,
And swears, and chafes--

_Isab._ Dar'st thou do one thing for me?
One thing concerns mine honor, all is lost else?

_Jaq._ Name what you will.

_Isab._ It can bring but a beating,
Which I will recompence so largely--

_Jaq._ Name it.

_Isab._ Sit here, as if thou wert asleep.

_Jaq._ Is that all?

_Isab._ When he comes in, whate'er he do unto thee
(The worst will be but beating) speak not a word,
Not one word as thou lovest me.

_Jaq._ I'll run through it.

_Isab._ I'll carry away the Candle. [_Exit._

_Jaq._ And I the blows Mistriss.

_Enter_ Lopez.

_Lop._ Have you put your light out? I shall stumble to ye,
You whore, you cunning whore, I shall catch your rogue too,
H'as light legs else, I had so Ferret-claw'd him:
Oh have I found ye? do ye play at dog-sleep still whore?
Do you think that can protect ye? yes, I will kill thee,
But first I'll bring thy friends to view thy villanies,
Thy whorish villanies: and first I'll beat thee,
Beat thee to pin-dust, thou salt whore, thou varlet,
Scratch out thine eyes; I'll spoil your tempting visage;
Are ye so patient? I'll put my nails in deeper,
Is it good whoring? whoring ye base rascal?
Is it good tempting men with strings to ride ye?
So, I'll fetch your kindred, and your friends, whore,
And such a Justice I will act upon thee. [_Exit._

_Enter_ Isabella.

_Isab._ What is he gone?

_Jaq._ The Devil go with him Mistriss,
Has harrowed me, plough'd Land was ne'r so harrow'd:
I had the most adoe to save mine eyes.

_Isab._ Has paid thee,
But I'll heal all again with good Gold. _Jaquenet_;
H'as damned nails.

_Jaq._ They are ten-penny nails I think Mistriss:
I'll undertake he shall strike 'em through an inch board.

_Isab._ Go up, and wash thy self: take my _Pomatum_,
And now let me alone to end the Tragedy.

_Jaq._ You had best beware.

_Isab._ I shall deal stoutly with him,
Reach me my Book, a[n]d see the door made fast wench,
And so good night: now to the matter politick.

[Lopez _knocks within_.

_Lop. Within._ You shall see what she is, what a sweet jewel.

_Isab._ Who's there, what mad-man knocks? is this an hour
And in mine Husband's absence?

_Lop. Within._ Will ye open?
You know my voice ye whore, I am that Husband:
Do you mark her subtilty? but I have paid her,
I have so ferk'd her face: here's the blood Gentlemen,
_Ecce signum_: I have spoil'd her Goatish beauty,
Observe her how she looks now, how she is painted,
Oh 'tis the most wicked'st whore, and the most treacherous--

_Enter_ Lopez, Bartello, _Gent. and two Gentlewomen_.

_Gent._ Here walks my cosin full of meditation,
Arm'd with religious thoughts.

_Bar._ Is this the monster?

_1 Gentlew._ Is this the subject of that rage you talk'd of,
That naughty woman you had pull'd a-pieces?

_Bar._ Here's no such thing.

_1 Gentlew._ How have ye wrong'd this beauty?
Are not you mad my friend? what time o' th' moon is 't?
Have not you Maggots in your brains?

_Lop._ 'Tis she sure.

_Gent._ Where's the scratch'd face ye spoke of, the torn garments,
And all the hair pluck'd off her head?

_Bar._ Believe me,
'Twere better far you had lost your pair of pibbles,
Than she the least adornment of that sweetness.

_Lop._ Is not this blood?

_1 Gentlew._ This is a monstrous folly,
A base abuse.

_Isab._ Thus he does ever use me,
And sticks me up a wonder, not a woman,
Nothing I doe, but's subject to suspition;
Nothing I can do, able to content him.

_Bar. Lopez_, you must not use this.

_2 Gentlew._ 'Twere not amiss, Sir,
To give ye sauce to your meat, and suddainly.

_1 Gentlew._ You that dare wrong a woman of her goodness,
Thou have a Wife, thou have a Bear ty'd to thee,
To scratch thy jealous itch, were all o' my mind,
I mean all women, we would [soone] disburthen ye
Of that that breeds these fits, these dog-flaws in ye,
A Sow-guelder should trim ye.

_Bar._ A rare cure Lady,
And one as fit for him as a Thief for a halter,
You see this youth: will you not cry him quittance,
Body 'me, I would pine, but I would pepper him,
I'll come anon, he, hang him, poor pompillion:
How like a wench bepist he looks, I'll come Lady;
_Lopez_, The Law must teach ye what a wife is,
A good, a virtuous wife.

_Isab._ I'll ne'r live with him,
I crave your loves all to make known my cause,
That so a fair Divorce may pass between us,
I am weary of my life: in danger hourly.

_Bar._ You see how rude you are, I will not miss ye,
Unsufferable rude: I'll pay him soundly,
You should be whipt in Bedlam: I'll reward him.

_2 Gentlew._ Whipping's too good.

_Lop._ I think I am alive still,
And in my wits.

_Bar._ I'll put a trick upon him,
And get his goods confiscate: you shall have 'em;
I will not fail at nine.

_Lop._ I think I am here too,
And once I would have sworn I had taken her napping,
I think my name is _Lopez_.

_Gent._ Fie for shame, Sir,
You see you have abus'd her, fouly wrong'd her,
Hung scandalous and course opinions on her,
Which now you find but children of suspition:
Ask her forgiveness, shew a penitence,
She is my kinswoman, and what she suffers
Under so base and beastly jealousies,
I will redress else, I'll seek satisfaction.

_Bar._ Why, every boy i' th' Town will piss upon thee.

_Lop._ I am sorry for't.

_1 Gentlew._ Down o' your marrow-bones.

_Lop._ Even sorry from my heart: forgive me sweet wife,
Here I confess most freely I have wrong'd ye,
As freely here I beg a pardon of ye,
From this hour no debate, no cross suspition--

_Isab._ To shew ye Sir I understand a wives part,
Thus I assure my love, and seal your pardon.

_2 Gentlew._ 'Tis well done, now to bed, and there confirm it.

_Gent._ And so good night.

_Bar._ Aware relapses, _Lopez_. [_Exeunt._

_Lop._ Now _Isabella_ tell me truth, and suddainly,
And do not juggle with me, nor dissemble,
For as I have a life ye dye then: I am not mad,
Nor does the Devil work upon my weakness,
Tell me the trick of this, and tell me freely.

_Isab._ Will then that satisfie ye?

_Lop._ If ye deal ingeniously.