Chapter X: Part 10

_Leon._ Are these the comforts of my age?
They're happy that end their daies contented
With a little, and live aloof from dangers, to a King
Every content doth a new peril bring.
Oh let me live no longer, shame of Nature,
Bastard to Honor: Traytor, Murderer,
Devil in a humane shape. Away with him,
He shall not breathe his hot [inf]ection here.

_Leu._ Sir, hear me.

_Leon._ Am I or he your Duke? away with him
To a close prison: your Highness now shall know,
Such branches must be cropt before they grow.

_Leu._ Whatever fortune comes, I bid it welcome,
My innocency is my Armor: gods preserve you. [_Exit._

_Bacha._ Fare thee well, I shall never see so brave a Gent.
Would I could weep out his offences.

_Tim._ Or I could weep out mine eyes.

_Leon._ Come Gentlemen, we'll determine presently
About his death: we cannot be too forward in our
Safety: I am very sick, lead me unto my bed. [_Exeunt._

_Enter Citizen and his Boy._

_Cit._ Sirrah, goe fetch my Fox from the Cutlers: There's money
for the scowring: Tell him I stop a groat since the last great
Muster: he had in stone Pitch for the bruise: he took with the
recoyling of his Gun.

_Boy._ Yes Sir.

_Cit._ And do you hear? when you come, Take down my Buckler,
and sweep the Cobwebs off: and grind the pick o[n']t, and
fetch a Nail or two: and tack on bracers: your Mistriss made a
pot-lid ont't, I thank her, at her Ma[yd]s Wedding, and burnt
off the Handle.

_Boy._ I will Sir. [_Exit._

_Cit._ Who's within here, hoe Neighbor, not stirring yet?

_2 Cit._ Oh, good morrow, good morrow: what news, what news?

_1 Cit._ It holds, he dies this morning.

_2 Cit._ Then happy man be his fortune, I am resolv'd.

_1 Cit._ And so am I, and forty more good fellows, That will
not give their heads for the washing, I take it.

_2 Cit._ 'Sfoot man, who would not hang in such good company,
and such a cause? A Fire, a Wife and Children; 'Tis such a jest
that men should look behind 'em to the world: and let their
honors, their honors neighbor, slip.

_1 Cit._ I'll give thee a pint of _Bastard_ and a Roll for that
bare word.

_2 Cit._ They say, that we Tailors, are things that lay one
another, and our Geese hatch us: I'll make some of 'em feel
they are Geese o'th' game then.
I'fack, take down my Bill, 'tis ten to one I use it. Take a
good heart man, all the low ward is ours, with a wet finger.
An[d] lay my cut-fing'red Gantlet ready for me,
That, that I us'd to work in, when the Gentl. were
Up against us, and beaten out of Town, and almost out o'
Debt too: for a plague on 'em they never paid well since:
And take heed sirrah, your Mistriss hears not of this
Business, she's near her time: yet if she do,
I care not, she may long for Rebellion,
For she has a devilish spirit.

_1 Cit._ Come, let's call up the new Iremonger, he's as
tough as steel, and has a fine wit in these resurrections;
Are you stirring neighbor?

_3. Within._ Oh, Good morrow neighbors, I'll come to you
presently.

_2._ Goe to, this is his Mothers doing; she's a _Polecat_.

_1._ As any is in the world.

_2._ Then say, I have hit it, and a vengeance on her, let her
be what she will.

_1. Amen_ say I, she has brought things to a fine pass with
her wisdom: do you mark it?

_2._ One thing I am sure she has, the good old Duke, she gives
him pap again they say, and dandles him, and hangs a corral and
bells about his neck, and makes him believe his teeth will come
agen; which if they did, and I he, I would worry her as never
Curr was worried: I would neighbor, till my teeth met I know
where, but that's counsel.

_Enter [third] Citizen._

_3._ Good morrow neighbors: hear you the sad news?

_1._ Yes, would we knew as well how to prevent it.

_3._ I cannot tell, methinks 'twere no great matter, if men
were men: but--

_2._ You do not twit me with my calling neighbor?

_3._ No surely: for I know your spirit to be tall; pray be not
vext.

_2._ Pray forward with your counsel: I am what I am, and they
that prove me shall find me to their cost: do you mark me
neighbor, to their cost I say.

_1._ Nay, look how soon you are angry!

_2._ They shall neighbors: yes, I say they shall.

_3._ I do believe they shall.

_1._ I know they shall.

_2._ Whether you do or no I care not two pence,
I am no beast, I know mine own strength neighbors;
God bless the King, your companies is fair.

_1._ Nay neighbor, now ye erre, [I] tell you so, and ye [were]
twenty Neighbors.

_3._ You had best goe peach, doe, peach.

_2._ Peach; I scorn the motion.

_3._ Doe, and see what follows: I'll spend an hundred pound,
and be two I care not: but I'll undoe thee.

_2._ Peach, Oh disgrace! Peach in thy face, and doe the worst
thou canst: I am a true-man, and a free-man: peach!

_1._ Nay, look, you will spoil all.

_2._ Peach!

_1._ Whilst you two brawl together, the Prince will lose his
life.

_3._ Come, give me your hand, I love you well, are you for the
action?

_2._ Yes: but Peach provokes me, 'tis a cold fruit, I feel it
cold in my stomach still.

_3._ No more, I'll give you Cake to digest it.

_Enter the Fourth._

_4._ Shut up my shop, and be ready at a call boys, and one of
you run over my old tuck with a few ashes, 'tis grown odious
with tosting Cheese: and burn a little Juniper in my Murrin,
the Maid made it her Chamber-pot: an hour hence I'll come
again; and as you hear from me, send me a clean shirt.

_3._ The Chandler by th[e] Wharf, and it be thy Will.

_2._ Gossip, good morrow.

_4._ Oh good morrow Gossip: good morrow all, I see ye of one
mind you cleave so close together: come 'tis time, I have
prepared [a] hundred if they stand.

_1._ 'Tis well done: shall we sever, and about it?

_3._ First, let's to the Tavern, and a pint a piece will make
us Dragons.

_2._ I will have no mercy, come what will of it.

_4._ If my tuck hold, I'll spit the Guard like Larks with sage
between 'em.

_2._ I have a foolish Bill to reckon with 'em, will make some
of their hearts ake, and I'll lay it on: now shall I fight,
'twill do you good to see me.

_3._ Come, I'll do something for the Town to talk of when I am
rotten: pray God there be enough to kill, that's all. [_Exeunt._

_Enter_ Dorialus, Nisus, Agenor.

_Age._ How black the day begins!

_Dor._ Can you blame it, and look upon such a deed as shall be
done this morning?

_Nis._ Does the Prince suffer to day?

_Dor._ Within this hour they say.

_Agen._ Well, they that are most wicked are most safe: 'twill
be a strange justice, and a lamentable, gods keep us from the
too soon feeling of it.

_Doria._ I care not if my throat were next: for to live still,
and live here, were but to grow [f]at for the Shambles.

_Nis._ Yet we must do it, and thank 'em too, that our lives may
be accepted.

_Age._ Faith I'll go starve [my] self, or grow diseas'd to
shame the hangman; for I am sure he shall be my Herald, and
quarter me.

_Dor._ I, a plague on him, he's too excellent at Arms.

_Nisus._ Will you go see this sad sight, my Lord _Agenor_?

_Age._ I'll make a mourner.

_Dor._ If I could do him any good, I would goe,
The bare sight else will but afflict my spirit,
My prayers shall be as near him as your eyes:
As you find him setled, remember my love and service to his Grace.

_Nis._ We will weep for you, Sir: farewel. [_Exeunt._

_Dor._ Farewell to all our happiness, a long farewel.
Thou angry power, whether of Heaven or Hell,
Thou laist this sharp correction on our Kingdom
For our offences, infinite and mighty!
Oh hear me, and at length be pleas'd, be pleas'd
With pity to draw back thy vengeance,
Too heavy for our weakness; and accept,
(Since it is your discretion, heavenly Wisdoms,
To have it so) this sacrifice for all,
That now is flying to your happiness,
Only for you most fit: let all our sins suffer in him.

[_A shout within._

Gods, what's the matter? I hope 'tis joy;
How now my Lords?

_Enter_ Agenor _and_ Nisus.

_Nis._ I'll tell you with that little breath I have;
More joy than you dare think, The Prince is safe from danger.

_Dor._ How!

_Age._ 'Tis true, and thus it was; his hour was come
To lose his life, he ready for the stroke,
Nobly, and full of Saint-like patience,
Went with his Guard: which when the people saw,
Compassion first went out, mingled with tears,
That bred desires, and whispers to each other,
To do some worthy kindness for the Prince,
And e'r they understood well how to do,
Fury stept in, and taught them what to do,
Thrusting on every hand to rescue him,
As a white innocent: then flew the roar
Through all the streets, of _Save him, save him, save him_:
And as they cry'd, they did; for catching up
Such sudden weapons as their madness shew them
In short, they beat the Guard, and took him from 'em,
And now march with him like a royal Army.

_Dor._ Heaven, heaven I thank thee,
What a slave was I to have my hand so far from
This brave rescue, 't 'ad been a thing to brag on
When I was old. Shall we run for a wager to the
Next Temple, and give thanks?

_Nis._ As fast as wishes.

_Enter_ Leucippus _and_ Ismenus: _the people within stops_.

_Leu._ Good friends goe home again, there's not a man shall goe
with me.

_Isme._ Will you not take revenge? I'll call them on.

_Leuc._ All that love me, depart:
I thank you, and will serve you for your loves:
But I will thank you more to suffer me
To govern 'em: once more, I do beg ye,
For my sake to your houses.

_All within._ Gods preserve you.

_Ism._ And what house will you goe to?

_Leu. Ismenus_, I will take the wariest courses that I can
think of to defend my self, but not offend.

_Isme._ You may kill your Mother, and never offend your Father,
an honest man.

_Leu._ Thou know'st I can scape now, that's all I look for:
I'll leave.

_Isme. Timantus_, a pox take him, would I had him here, I
would kill him at his own weapon single, sithes we have built
enough on him: plague on't, I'm out of all patience: discharge
such an Army as this, that would have followed you without
paying, Oh gods!

_Leu._ To what end should I keep 'em? I am free.

_Isme._ Yes, free o'th' Traitors, for you are proclaim'd one.

_Leu._ Should I therefore make my self one?

_Isme._ This is one of your moral Philosophy, is it?
Heaven bless me from subtilties to undoe my self with:
But I know, if reason her self were here,
She would not part with her own safety.

_Leu._ Well, pardon _Ismenus_, for I know
My courses are most just; nor will I stain 'em
With one bad action; for thy self thou know'st,
That though I may command thee, I shall be
A ready servant to thee if thou needst: and so I'll take my
leave.

_Isme._ Of whom?

_Leu._ Of thee.

_Isme._ Heart, you shall take no leave of me.

_Leu._ Shall I not?

_Isme._ No, by the gods shall you not: nay, if you have no more
wit but to goe absolutely alone, I'll be in a little.

_Leu._ Nay, prethee good _Ismenus_ part with me.

_Isme._ I wonnot i'faith, never move it any more; for by this
good light I wonnot.

_Leu._ This is an ill time to be thus unruly: _Ismenus_. You
must leave me.

_Isme._ Yes, if you can beat me away: else the gods refuse me
if I will leave you till I see more reason; you sha'nt undoe
your self.

_Leu._ But why wilt not leave me?

_Isme._ Why I'll tell you: Because when you are gone,
then--life, if I have not forgot my reason--hell take me: you
put me out of patience so: Oh! marry when you are gone, then
will your Mother (a pox confound her) she never comes in my
head, but she spoils my memory too: there are a hundred reasons.

_Leu._ But shew me one.

_Isme._ Shew you; what a stir here is; why I will shew you: Do
you think; well, well, I know what I know, I pray come, come.
'Tis in vain: but I am sure. Devils take 'em; what do I meddle
with 'em? You know your self. Soul, I think I am: is there any
man i'th' world? as if you knew not this already better than I.
Pish, pish, I'll give no reason.

_Leu._ But I will tell thee one, why thou shouldst stay:
I have not one friend in the Court but thou,
On whom I may be bold to trust to send me
Any intelligence: and if thou lov'st me
Thou wilt do this, thou needst not fear to stay,
For there are new-come Proclamations out,
Where all are pardon'd but my self.

_Isme._ 'Tis true, and in the same Proclamation, your fine
Sister _Urania_, whom you us'd so kindly, is proclaim'd Heir
apparent to the Crown.

_Leu._ What though, thou mayst stay at home without danger.

_Isme._ Danger, hang danger, what tell you me of danger?

_Leu._ Why if thou wilt not do't, I think thou dar'st not.

_Isme._ I dare not: if you speak it in earnest, you are a Boy.

_Leu._ Well Sir, if you dare, let me see you do't.

_Isme._ Why so you shall, I will stay.

_Leu._ Why God-a-mercy.

_Isme._ You know I love you but too well.

_Leu._ Now take these few directions: farewel, send to me by
the wariest ways thou canst: I have a soul tells me we shall
meet often. The gods protect thee.

_Isme._ Pox o' my self for an ass, I'm crying now, God be with
you, if I never see you again: why then pray get you gone,
for grief and anger wonnot let me know what I say, I'll to
the Court as fast as I can, and see the new Heir apparant.
[_Exeunt._

_Actus Quintus. Scæna Prima._

_Enter_ Urania _and her Woman_.

_Uran._ What hast thou found him?

_Wo._ Madam, he is coming in.

_Uran._ Gods bless my brother, wheresoe'er he is:
And I beseech you keep me fro the bed
Of any naughty Tyrant, whom my Mother
Would ha me have to wrong him.

_Enter_ Ismenus.

_Isme._ What would her new Grace have with me?

_Ura._ Leave us a while. My Lord _Ismenus_, [_Exit_[Wom.]
I pray for the love of Heaven and God,
That you would tell me one thing, which I know
You can do weell.

_Isme._ Where's her fain Grace?

_Ura._ You know me well inough, but that you mock, I am she my
sen.

_Isme._ God bless him that shall be thy husband, if thou
wear'st [breeches] thus soon, thou'lt be as impudent as thy
Mother.

_Ura._ But will you tell me this one thing?

_Ism._ What is't? if it be no great matter whether I do or no,
perhaps I will.

_Ura._ Yes faith, 'tis matter.

_Ism._ And what is't?

_Ura._ I pray you let me know whaire the Prince my Brother is.

_Ism._ I'faith you shan be hang'd first, is your Mother so
foolish to think your good Grace can sift it out of me?

_Ura._ If you have any mercy left i' you to a poor wench, tell
me.

_Ism._ Why wouldst [not thou] have thy brains beat out for
this, to follow thy Mothers steps so young?

_Ura._ But believe me, she knows none of this.

_Ism._ Believe you? why do you think I never had wits? or that
I am run out of them? how should it belong to you to know, if I
could tell?

_Ura._ Why I will tell you, and if I speak false
Let the devil ha me: yonder's a bad man,
Come from a Tyrant to my Mother, and what name
They ha' for him, good faith I cannot tell.

_Isme._ An Ambassador.

_Ura._ That's it: but he would carry me away,
And have me marry his Master; and I'll day
E'r I will ha' him.

_Ism._ But what's this to knowing where the Prince is?

_Ura._ Yes: for you know all my Mother does:
Agen the Prince is but to ma me great.

_Ism._ Pray, I know that too well, what ten?

_Ura._ Why I [w]ould goe to the good Marquis my
Brother, and put my self into his hands, that so
He may preserve himself.

_Ism._ Oh that thou hadst no seed of thy Mother in thee, and
couldst mean this now.

_Ura._ Why feth I do, wou'd I might ne'er stir more if I do not.

_Ism._ I shall prove a ridiculous fool, I'll be damn'd else:
hang me if I do not half believe thee.

_Ura._ By my troth you may.

_Ism._ By my troth I doe: I know I'm an Ass for't, But I cannot
help it.

_Ura._ And won you tell me then?

_Ism._ Yes faith will I, or any thing else i'th' world: for I
think thou art as good a creature as ever was born.

_Ura._ But ail goe i' this ladst [reparrell]: But you mun help
me to Silver.

_Ism._ Help thee? why the pox take him that will not help thee
to any thing i'th' world, I'll help thee to Money, and I'll
do't presently too, and yet soul, If you should play the scurvy
Harlotry little pocky baggage now and cosin me, what then?

_Ura._ Why, an I do, wou'd I might ne'r see day agen.

_Ism._ Nay, by this light, I do not think thou wilt: I'll
presently provide thee Money and a Letter. [_Exit_ Ism.

_Ura._ I, but I'll ne'er deliver it.
When I have found my Brother, I will beg
To serve him; but he shall never know who I am:
For he must hate me then for my bad mother:
I'll say I am a Countrey Lad that want a service,
And have straid on him by chance, lest he discover me;
I know I must not live long, but that taime
I ha' to spend, shall be in serving him.
And though my Mother seek to take his life away,
In ai day my brother shall be taught
That I was ever good, though she were naught. [_Exit._

_Enter_ Bacha _and_ Timantus: Bacha _reading_
_a Letter_.

_Bac._ Run away, the Devil be her guide.

_Tim._ Faith she's gone: there's a Letter, I found it in her
pocket, would I were with her, she's a handsome Lady, a plague
upon my bashfulness, I had bobb'd her long ago else.

_Bach._ What a base whore is this, that after all
My ways for her advancement, should so poorly
Make virtue her undoer, and choose this time,
The King being deadly sick, and I intending
A present marriage with some forreign Prince,
To strengthen and secure my self. She writes here
Like a wise Gentlewoman, She will not stay:
And the example of her dear brother, makes her
Fear her self, to whom she means to flie.

_Tim._ Why, who can help it?

_Bac._ Now Poverty and Lechery, which is thy end, rot thee,
where e'er thou goest with all thy goodness.

_Timan._ Berlady they'll bruze her: and she were of brass. I am
sure they'll break stone Walls: I have had experience of them
both, and they have made me desperate: but there's a messenger,
Madam, come from the Prince with a Letter to _Ismenus_, who by
him returns an answer.

_Bac._ This comes as pat as wishes: thou shalt presently away
_Timantus_.

_Tim._ Whither Madam?

_Ba._ To the Prince, and take the Messenger for guide.

_Tim._ What shall I do there? I have done too much mischief to
be believ'd again; or indeed, to scape with my head on my back,
if I be once known.

_Bac._ Thou art a weak shallow fool: get thee a disguise, and
withal, when thou com'st before him, have a Letter fain'd to
deliver him: and then, as thou hast ever hope of goodness by
me, or after me, strike one home stroke that shall not need
another: dar'st thou speak, dar'st thou? if thou fall'st off,
go be a Rogue again, and lie and pander to procure thy meat:
dar'st thou speak to me?

_Tim._ Sure I shall never walk when I am dead: I have no
spirit, Madam, I'll be drunk but I'll do it, that's all my
refuge. [_Exit._

_Bac._ Away, no more, then I'll raise an Army whilst the King
yet lives, if all the means and power I have can do it, I
cannot tell.

_Enter_ Ismenus _and three Lords_.

_Ism._ Are you inventing still? we'll ease your studies.

_Bac._ Why how now saucy Lords?

_Ism._ Nay, I'll shake ye; yes devil, I will shake ye.

_Bac._ Do not you know me Lords?

_Nis._ Yes deadly sin we know ye, would we did not.

_Ism._ Doe you hear whore, a plague a God upon thee, the Duke
is dead.

_Bach._ Dead!

_Ism._ I, wild-fire and brimstone take thee: good man he is
dead, and past those miseries which thou, salt infection-like;
like a disease flungst upon his head. Dost thou hear, and
'twere not more respect [to] Womanhood in general than thee,
because I had a Mother, who I will not say she was good, she
liv'd so near thy time, I would have thee in vengeance of this
man, whose peace is made in heaven by this time, tied to a
post; and dried i' th' sun, and after carried about, and shewn
at Fairs for money, with a long story of the devil thy father,
that taught thee to be whorish, envious, bloudy.

_Bac._ Ha, ha, ha.

_Ism._ You fleering harlot, I'll have a horse to leap thee,
and thy base issue shall carry Sumpters. Come Lords, bring her
along, we'll to the Prince all, where her hell-hood shall wait
his censure; and if he spare the[e] she-Goat, may he lie with
thee again: and beside, maist thou lay upon him some nasty foul
disease, that hate still follows, and his end a dry ditch. Lead
you corrupted whore, or I'll draw a goad shall make you skip:
away to the Prince.

_Bac._ [Ha] ha, ha, I hope yet I shall come too late to find
him.

_Cornets._ Cupid _from above_.

_Enter_ Leucippus, Urania: Leucippus _with a_
_bloody Handkerchief_.

_Leu._ Alas poor boy, why dost thou follow me?
What canst thou hope for? I am poor as thou art.

_Ura._ In good feth I shall be weel and rich enough
If you will love me, and not put me from you.

_Leu._ Why dost thou choose out me Boy to undo thee?
Alas, for pitty take another Master,
That may be able to deserve thy love
In breeding thee hereafter: me thou knowest not,
More than my misery: and therefore canst not
Look for rewards at my hands: would I were able
My pretty knave, to doe thee any kindness: truly
Good Boy, I would upon my faith, thy harmless
Innocence moves me at heart: wilt thou goe
Save thy self; why dost thou weep?
Alas, I do not chide thee.

_Ura._ I cannot tell if I go from you; Sir, I shall ne'er dawn
day more: Pray if you can, I will be true to you: Let me wait
on you: if I were a man, I would fight for you: Sure you have
some ill-willers, I would slay [u]m.

_Leu._ Such harmless souls are ever Prophets: well, I take thy
wish, thou shalt be with me still: But prethee eat, [then] my
good boy: Thou wilt die my child if thou fast one day more.
This four daies thou hast tasted nothing: Goe into the Cave and
eat: thou shalt find something for thee, to bring thy bloud
again, and thy fair colour.

_Ura._ I cannot eat, God thank you. But I'll eat to morrow.

_Leu._ Thou't be dead by that time.

_Ura._ I should be well then, for you will not love me.

_Leu._ Indeed I will. This is the prettiest passion that e'er I
felt yet: why dost thou look so earnestly upon me?

_Ura._ You have fair eyes Master.

_Leu._ Sure the boy dotes: why dost thou sigh my child?

_Ura._ To think that such a fine man should live, and no gay
Lady love him.

_Leu._ Thou wilt love me?

_Ura._ Yes sure till I die, and when I am in heaven, I'll e'en
wish for you.

_Leu._ And I'll come to thee boy. This is a Love I never yet
heard tell of: come, thou art sleepy child; goe in, and I'll
sit with thee: heaven what portends this?

_Ura._ You are sad, but I am not sleepy, would I could do ought
to make you merry: shall I sing?

_Leu._ If thou wilt good Boy. Alas my boy, that thou shouldst
comfort me, and art far worse than I!

_Enter_ Timantus _with a Letter disguised_.

_Ura._ Law Master, there's one, look to your [sen.]

_Leu._ What art thou that in this dismal place,
Which nothing could find out but misery,
Thus boldly stepst? Comfort was never here,
Here is no food, nor beds, nor any house
Built by a better Architect than beasts;
And e'r you get dwelling from one of them,
You must fight for it: if you conquer him,
He is your meat: if not, you must be his.

_Tim._ I come to you (for if I not mistake, you are the
Prince) from that most Noble Lord _Ismenus_ with a Letter.

_Ura._ Alas, I fear I shall be discover'd now.

_Leu._ Now I feel my self the poorest of all mortal things.
Where is he that receives such courtesies
But he has means to shew his gratefulness
Some way or other? I have none at all:
I know not how to speak so much as well
Of thee, but to these trees.

[Leucippus _opening the Letter, the whilst_ Timantus _runs at
him, and_ Urania _steps before_.

_Tim._ His Letters speak him, Sir--

_Ura._ Gods keep me but from knowing him till I die: aye me,
sure I cannot live a day, Oh thou foul Traitor: How do you
Master?

_Leu._ How dost thou my child? alas, look on [t]his, it may
make thee repentant, to behold those innocent drops that thou
hast drawn from thence.

_Ura._ 'Tis nothing Sir, and you be well.

_Tim._ Oh pardon me, know you me now, Sir?

_Leu._ How couldst thou find me out?

_Tima._ We intercepted a Letter from _Ismenus_, and the bearer
directed me.

_Leu._ Stand up _Timantus_ boldly,
The world conceives that thou art guilty
Of divers treasons to the State and me:
But oh far be it from the innocence
Of a just man, to give a Traitor death
Without a tryal: here the Countrey is not
To purge thee or condemn thee; therefore
A nobler trial than thou dost deserve,
Rather than none at all, here I accuse thee
Before the face of Heaven, to be a Traitor
Both to the Duke my Father and to me, and the
Whole Land: speak, is it so or no?

_Tima._ 'Tis true Sir, pardon me.

_Leu._ Take heed _Timantus_ how thou dost cast away thy self,
I must proceed to execution hastily if thou confess it: speak
once againe, is it so or no?

_Tima._ I am not guilty, Sir.

[_Fight here: the Prince gets his_
_sword, and gives it him._

_Leu._ Gods and thy sword acquit thee, here it is.

_Tima._ I will not use any violence against your Highness.

_Leu._ At thy peril then, for this must be thy trial: and from
henceforth look to thy self.

[Timantus _draws his sword, and runs_
_at him when he turns aside_.

_Tim._ I do beseech you, Sir, let me not fight.

_Leu._ Up, up again _Timantus_,
There is no way but this, believe me.
Now if--Fie, fie _Timantus_, is there no
Usage can recover thee from baseness? wert thou
Longer to converse with men, I would have chid
Thee for this: be all thy faults forgiven.

_Tim._ Oh spare me Sir, I am not fit for death.

_Leu._ I think th[o]u art not, yet trust me, fitter than for
life: Yet tell me e'r thy breath be gone, know'st of any other
plots against me?

_Tim._ Of none.

_Leu._ What course wouldst thou have taken, when thou hadst
kill'd me?

_Tim._ I would have ta'en your Page, and married her.

_Leu._ What Page?

_Tim._ Your boy there. [_Dies._

[Urania _sounds_.

_Leu._ Is he fall'n mad in death, what does he mean?
Some good god help me at the worst: how dost thou?
Let not thy misery vex me, thou shalt have
What thy poor heart can wish: I am a Prince,
And I will keep thee in the gayest cloaths,
And the finest things, that ever pretty boy had given him.

_Ura._ I know you well enough,
Feth I am dying, and now you know all too.

_Leu._ But stir up thy self; look what a Jewel here is,
See how it glisters: what a pretty shew
Will this make in thy little ear? ha, speak,
Eat but a bit, and take it.

_Ura._ Do you not know me?

_Leu._ I prethee mind thy health: why that's well said my good
boy, smile still.

_Ura._ I shall smile till death an I see you, I am _Urania_,
your Sister-in-law.

_Leu._ How?

_Ura._ I am _Urania_.

_Leu._ Dulness did seize me, now I know thee well;
Alas, why cam'st thou hither?

_Ura._ Feth for love, I would not let you know till I was
dying; for you could not love me, my Mother was so naught.

_Leu._ I will love thee, or any thing: what? wilt
Thou leave me as soon as I know thee?
Speak one word to me: alas she's past it,
She will ne'er speak more.
What noise is that? it is no matter who

_Enter_ Ismenus _with the Lords_.

Comes on me now. What worse than mad are you
That seek out sorrows? if you love delights
Begone from hence.

_Isme._ Sir, for you we come, as Soldiers to revenge the wrongs
you have suffer'd under this naughty creature: what shall be
done with her? say, I am ready.

_Leu._ Leave her to Heaven, brave Cosin, they shall tell her
how she has sinn'd against 'em, my hand shall never be stain'd
with such base bloud: live wicked Mother: that reverend Title
be your pardon, for I will use no extremity against you, but
leave you to Heaven.

_Bacha._ Hell take you all, or if there be a place
Of torment that exceeds that, get you thither:
And till the devils have you, may your lives
Be one continued plague, and such a one,
That knows no friends nor ending.
May all ages that shall succeed, curse you as I do:
And if it be possible, I ask it heaven,
That your base issues may be ever Monsters,
That must for shame of nature and succession,
Be drown'd like dogs.
Would I had breath to [poyson] you.

_Leu._ Would you had love within you, and such grief
As might become a Mother: look you there,
Know you that face? that was _Urania_:
These are the fruits of those unhappy Mothers,
That labour with such horrid births as you do:
If you can weep, there's cause; poor innocent,
Your wickedness has kill'd her: I'll weep for you.

_Isme._ Monstrous woman,
_Mars_ would weep at this, and yet she cannot.

_Leu._ Here lies your Minion too, slain by my hand,
I will not say you are the cause: yet certain,
I know you were [to] blame, the gods forgive you.

_Isme._ See, she stands as if she were inventing
Some new destruction for the world.

_Leu. Ismenus_, thou art welcome yet to my sad company.

_Isme._ I come to make you somewhat sadder, Sir.

_Leu._ You cannot, I am at the height already.

_Isme._ Your Fathers dead.

_Leu._ I thought so, Heaven be with him: Oh woman, woman, weep
now or never, thou hast made more sorrows than we have eyes to
utter.

_Bac._ Now let Heaven fall, I am at the worst of evils, a thing
so miserably wretched, that every thing, the last of humane
comforts hath left me: I will not be so base and cold, to live
and wait the mercies of these men I hate, no, 'tis just I die,
since fortune hath left me, my step discent attends me: hand,
strike thou home, I have soul enough to guide; and let all
know, as I stood a Queen, the same I'll fall, and one with me.
[_She stabs the Prince with a knife._

_Leu._ Ho.

_Isme._ How do you, Sir?

_Leu._ Nearer my health, than I think any here, my tongue
begins to faulter: what is man? or who would be one, when he
sees a poor weak woman can in an instant make him none.

_Dor._ She is dead already.

_Isme._ Let her be damn'd already as she is: post all for
Surgeons.

_Leu._ Let not a man stirr, for I am but dead:
I have some few words which I would have you hear,
And am afraid I shall want breath to speak 'em:
First to you my Lords, you know _Ismenus_ is
Undoubtedly Heir of _Lycia_, I do beseech you all,
When I am dead, to shew your duties to him.

_Lords._ We vow to do't.

_Leu._ I thank you.
Next to you Cosin _Ismenus_, that shall be the Duke,
I pray you let the broken Image of _Cupid_
Be re-edified, I know all this is done by him.

_Isme._ It shall be so.

_Leu._ Last, I beseech you that my Mother-in-law may have a
burial according to-- [_Dies._

_Isme._ To what, Sir?

_Dor._ There is a full point.

_Isme._ I will interpret for him; she shall have burial
according to her own deserts, with dogs.

_Dor._ I would your Majesty would haste for setling of the
people.

_Isme._ I am ready.

_Age._ Goe, and let the Trumpets sound
Some mournful thing, whilst we convey the body
Of this unhappy Prince unto the Court,
And of that virtuous Virgin to a Grave:
But drag her to a ditch, where let her lie,
Accurst, whilst one man has a memory. [_Exeunt._

Cupid's _Speech_.

_The time now of my Revenge draws near._
_Nor shall it lessen as I am a god,_
_With all the cries and prayers that have been;_
_And those that be to come, though they be infinite,_
_In need and number._

The Two Noble Kinsmen.

The Persons represented in the Play.

Hymen,
Theseus,
Hippolita, }
Emelia, }_Sisters to_ Theseus
Nymphs,
Three Queens,
Three valiant Knights,
Palamon, } _'The two Noble Kinsmen, in_
Arcite, } _love with fair_ Emelia.
Perithous,
Jaylor,
His Daughter, _in love with_ Palamon,
Countrey-men,
Wenches,
A Taborer,
Gerrold, _A Schoolmaster_.

PROLOGUE.

Florish.

_New Plays and Maiden-heads are near a-kin,_
_Much follow'd both; for both much money gi'n,_
_If they stand sound, and well: And a good Play_
_(Whose modest Scenes blush on his marriage day,_
_And shake to loose his honour) is like hir_
_That after holy Tie, and first nights stir_
_Yet still is Modesty, and still retains_
_More of the Maid to sight, than Husbands pains;_
_We pray our Play may be so; for I'm sure_
_It has a noble breeder, and a pure,_
_A Learned, and a Poet never went_
_More famous yet 'twixt_ Po, _and silver_ Trent.
Chaucer (_of all admir'd_) _the Story gives,_
_There constant to eternity it lives:_
_If we let fall the Nobleness of this,_
_And the first sound this Child hear, be a hiss,_
_How will it shake the bones of that good man_
_And make him cry from under-ground. Oh fan_
_From me the witless chaff of such a writer_
_That blasts my Bayes, and my fam'd Works makes lighter_
_Than_ Robin Hood, _this is the fear we bring_
_For to say Truth, it were an endless thing:_
_And too ambitious to aspire to him;_
_Weak as we are, and almost breathless swim_
_In this deep water. Do but you hold out_
_Your helping hands, and we shall tack about,_
_And something do to save us: You shall hear_
_Scænes, though below his Art, may yet appear_
_Worth two hours travel. To his bones sweet sleep:_
_Content to you. If this Play do not keep,_
_A little dull time from us, we perceive_
_Our losses fall so thick, we must needs leave._ Florish.

_Actus Primus. Scæna Prima._

_Enter_ Hymen _with a Torch burning: a Boy, in a white Robe_
_before, singing, and strewing Flowers: after_ Hymen, _a_
_Nymph, encompassed in her Tresses, bearing a wheaten_
_Garland. Then_ Theseus _between two other Nymphs, with_
_wheaten Chaplets on their heads. Then_ Hippolita _the Bride_
_lead by_ Theseus, _and another holding a Garland over her_
_head (her Tresses likewise hanging.) After her_ Emilia _holding_
_up her Train_.

The SONG. Musick.

_Roses their sharp spines being gone,_
_Not royal in their smells alone,_
_But in their hew,_
_Maiden-Pinks, of odour faint,_
_Daizies smell-less, yet most quaint_
_And sweet Time true._

_Primrose first born, child of Ver,_
_Merry Spring time's Harbinger,_
_With her bels dimm._
_Oxlips in their Cradles growing,_
_Marigolds on death-beds blowing,_
_Larks-heels trim._
_All dear natures children sweet,_
_Lie fore Bride and Bridegrooms feet,_ [Strew Flowers.
_Blessing their sence._
_Not an Angel of the Air,_
_Bird melodious, or Bird fair,_
_Is absent hence._

_The Crow, the slanderous Cuckooe, nor_
_The boading Raven, nor Clough h[ee]_
_Nor chatt'ring Pie,_
_May on our Bridehouse pearch or sing,_
_Or with them any discord bring_
_But from it fly._

_Enter three Queens in Black, with vails stain'd, with Imperial_
_Crowns. The first Queen falls down at the foot of_ Theseus;
_The second fals down at the foot of_ Hippolita. _The third_
_before_ Emilia.

_1 Qu._ For pities sake, and true gentilities,
Hear and respect me.

_2 Qu._ For your Mothers sake.
And as you wish your womb may thrive with fair ones,
Hear and respect me.

_3 Qu._ Now for the love of him whom _Jove_ hath mark'd
The honor of your Bed, and for the sake
Of clear Virginity, be Advocate
For us, and our distresses: This good deed
Shall raze you out o'th' Book of Trespasses
All you are set down there.

_Thes._ Sad Lady rise.

_Hip._ Stand up.

_Emil._ No knees to me.
What Woman I may steed that is distrest,
Does bind me to her.

_Thes._ What's your request? Deliver you for all?

_1 Qu._ We are three Queens, whose Sovereigns fell before
The wrath of cruel _Creon_; who endur'd
The Beaks of Ravens, Tallents of the Kites,
And pecks of Crows in the foul field[s] of _Thebs_.
He will not suffer us to burn their bones,
To urne their ashes, nor to take th' offence
Of mortal loathsomness from the blest eye
Of holy _Phoebus_, but infects the winds
With stench of our slain Lords. Oh pity Duke,
Thou purger of the earth, draw thy fear'd Sword
That does good turns to th' world; give us the Bones
Of our dead Kings, that we may Chappel them;
And of thy boundless goodness take some note
That for our crowned heads we have no roof;
Save this which is the Lions and the Bears,
And vault to every thing.

_Thes._ Pray you kneel not,
I was transported with your Speech, and suffer'd
Your knees to wrong themselves; I have heard the fortunes
Of your dead Lords, which gives me such lamenting
As wakes my vengeance, and revenge for 'em:
King _Capaneus_, was your Lord the day
That he should marry you, at such a season,
As now it is with me, I met your Groom,
By _Mars's Altar_; you were that time fair;
Not _Juno's Mantle_, fairer than your Tresses,
Nor in more bounty spread her. Your wheaten wreath
Was then not thrash'd, nor blasted; Fortune at you
Dimpled her Cheek with smiles: _Hercules_ our kinsman
(Then weaker than your eyes) laid by his Club,
He tumbled down upon his Nenuan hide
And swore his sinews thaw'd: Oh grief, and time,
Fearful consumers, you will all devour.

_1 Qu._ Oh I hope some God,
Some God hath put his mercy in your manhood
Whereto he'll infuse power, and press you forth
Our undertaker.

_Thes._ Oh no knees, none Widow,
Unto the Helmeted-_Belona_ use them,
And pray for me your Soldier.
Troubl'd I am. [_Turns away._

_2 Qu._ Honoured _Hippolita_
Most dreaded _Amazonian_, that hast slain
The Sith-tusk'd-Bore; that with thy Arm as strong
As it is white, was't near to make the male
To thy Sex captive; but that this thy Lord
Born to uphold Creation, in that honor
First nature stil'd it in, shrunk thee into
The bound thou wast o'er-flowing; at once subduing
Thy force, and thy affection: Soldieress
That equally canst poize sternness with pity,
Whom now I know hast [much] more power on him
Than ever he had on thee, who ow'st his strength,
And his Love too: who is a Servant for
The Tenor of the Speech. Dear Glass of Ladies.
Bid him that we whom flaming war doth scorch,
Under the shadow of his Sword, may cool us:
Require him he advance it o'er our heads;
Speak't in a womans key: like such a woman
As any of us three; weep e'r you fail; lend us a knee;
But touch the ground for us no longer time
Than a Doves motion, when the head's pluckt off:
Tell him if he i'th' blood-ciz'd field, lay swoln
Shewing the Sun his Teeth, grinning at the Moon
What you would do.

_Hip._ Poor Lady say no more:
I had as leif trace this good action with you
As that whereto I'm going, and never yet
Went I so willing, way. My Lord is taken
Heart deep with your distress: Let him consider;
I'll speak anon.

_3 Qu._ Oh my petition was, [_Kneel to_ Emilia.
Set down in Ice, which by hot grief uncandied
Melts into drops, so sorrow wanting form
Is prest with deeper matter.

_Emil._ Pray stand up,
Your grief is written in your cheek.

_3 Qu._ Oh woe,
You cannot read it there; there through my tears,
Like wrinkl'd pebbles in a Glass stream
You may behold 'em (Lady, Lady, alack)
He that will all the treasure know o'th' earth
Must know the Center too; he that will fish
For my least minnow, let him lead his line
To catch one at my heart. Oh pardon me;
Extremity that sharpens sundry wits
Makes me a fool.

_Emil._ Pray you say nothing, pray you,
Who cannot feel, nor see the rain being in't,
Knows neither wet, nor dry, if that you were
The ground-piece of some Painter, I would buy you
T'instruct me 'gainst a capital grief indeed
Such heart-pierc'd demonstration; but alas
Being a natural Sister of our Sex
Your sorrow beats so ardently upon me:
That it shall make a counter-reflect 'gainst
My Brothers heart, and warm it to some pity
Though it were made of stone: pray have good comfort:

_Thes._ Forward to th' Temple, leave not out a jot
O' th' sacred ceremony.

_1 Qu._ Oh this celebration
Will long last, and be more costly than
Your Suppliants war: Remember that your Fame
Knowls in the ear o'th' world: what you do quickly,
Is not done rashly; your first thought is more,
Than others laboured meditance: your premeditating
More than their actions: But oh _Jove_, your actions,
Soon as they move, as Asprays do the fish,
Subdue before they touch: think, dear Duke think
What beds our slain Kings have.

_2 Qu._ What griefs our beds
That our dear Lords have none.

_3 Qu._ None fit for th' dead:
Those that with Cords, Knives, Drams precipitance,
Weary of this worlds light, have to themselves
Been deaths most horrid Agents, humane grace
Affords them dust and shadow.

_1 Qu._ But our Lords
Lie blist'ring 'fore the visitating Sun,
And were good Kings, when living.

_Thes._ It is true, and I will give you comfort,
To give your dead Lords graves:
The which to do must make some work with _Creon_.

_1 Qu._ And that work presents it self to th' doing:
Now 'twill take form, the heats are gone to morrow,
Then bootless toil must recompence it self,
With its own sweat; Now he's secure,
Not dre[a]ms, we stand before your puissance
Wrinching our holy begging in our eyes
To make petition clear.

_2 Qu._ Now you may take him,
Drunk with his victory.

_3 Qu._ And his Army full
Of Bread, and sloth.

_Thes. Artesis_ that best knowest
How to draw out, fit to this enterprize,
The prim'st for this proceeding, and the number
To carry such a business, forth and levy
Our worthiest Instruments, whilst we dispatch
This grand act of our life, this daring deed
Of Fate in wedlock.

_1 Qu._ Dowagers, take hands
Let us be Widows to our woes, delay
Commends us to a famishing hope.

_All._ Farewell.

_2 Qu._ We come unseasonably: But when could grief
Cull forth as unpanged judgement can, fit'st time
For best solicitation.

_Thes._ Why good Ladies,
This is a service, whereto I am going,
Greater than any was; it more imports me
Than all the actions that I have foregone,
Or futurely can cope.

_1 Qu._ The more proclaiming
Our suit shall be neglected, when her Arms,
Able to lock _Jove_ from a Synod, shall
By warranting Moon-light corslet thee, oh when
Her twining Cherries shall their sweetness fall
Upon thy tastful Lips, what wilt thou think
Of rotten Kings, or blubber'd Queens, what care
For what thou feel'st not? what thou feel'st being able
To make _Mars_ spurn his Drom. Oh if thou couch
But one night with her, every hour in't will
Take hostage of thee for a hundred, and
Thou shalt remember nothing more, than what
That Banquet bids thee too.

_Hip._ Though much unlike
You should be so transported, as much sorry
I should be such a Suitor; yet I think
Did I not by th' abstaining of my joy
Which breeds a deeper longing, cure their surfeit
That craves a present med'cine, I should pluck
All Ladies scandal on me. Therefore Sir
As I shall here make trial of my Prayers,
Either presuming them to have some force,
Or sentencing for ay their vigor dumb,
Prorogue this business, we are going about, and hang
Your Shield afore your heart, about that neck
Which is my Fee, and which I freely lend
To do these poor Queens service.

_All Queens._ Oh help now
Our Cause cries for your knee.

_Emil._ If you grant not
My Sister her petition in that force,
With that Celerity, and nature which
She makes it in: from henceforth I'll not dare
To ask you any thing, nor be so hardy
Ever to take a Husband.

_Thes._ Pray stand up.
I am intreating of my self to do
That which you kneel to have me; _Pyrithous_
Lead on the Bride; get you and pray the gods
For success, and return; omit not any thing
In the pretended Celebration; Queens
Follow your Soldier (as before) hence you
And at the banks of _Anly_ meet us with
The forces you can raise, where we shall find
The moiety of a number, for a business,
More bigger look't; since that our Theme is haste
I stamp this kiss uppon thy currant Lip,
Sweet keep it as my token; set you forward
For I will see you gone. [_Exeunt towards the Temple._
Farewel my beauteous Sister; _Pyrithous_
Keep the Feast full, bate not an hour on't.

_Pyri._ Sir,
I'll follow you at heels; The Feasts solemnity
Shall want till your return.

_Thes._ Cosin I charge you
Budge not from _Athens_; we shall be returning
E'r you can end this Feast; of which I pray you
Make no abatement; once more farewel all.

_1 Qu._ Thus dost thou still make good the tongue o'th' world.

_[2] Qu._ And earnst a Deity equal with _Mars_.

_3 Qu._ If not above him, for
Thou being but mortal, makest affections bend
To godlike honors; they themselves some say
Groan under such a Mast'ry.

_Thes._ As we are men
Thus should we doe, being sensually subdu'd
We loose our humane Title; good cheer Ladies. _Florish._
Now turn we towards our Comforts. [_Exeunt._

_Scæna Secunda._

_Enter_ Palamon, _and_ Arcite.

_Arcite._ Dear _Palamon_, dearer in Love than Blood
And our prime Cosin, yet unhard'ned in
The Crimes of nature; Let us leave the City
_Thebs_, and the temptings in't, before we further
Sully our gloss of youth,
And here to keep in abstinence we shame
As in Incontinence; for not to swim
I' th' aid o'th' current, were almost to sink,
At least to frustrate striving, and to follow
The common stream, 't would bring us to an Eddy
Where we should turn or drown; if labour through,
Our gain but life, and weakness.

_Pal._ Your advice
Is cry'd up with example; what strange ruins
Since first we went to School, may we perceive
Walking in _Thebs_! Skars, and bare weeds
The gain o'th' Martialist, who did propound
To his bold ends, honor, and golden Ingots,
Which though he won, he had not, and now flurted
By peace, for whom he fought, who then shall offer
To _Mars's_ so scorn'd Altar? I doe bleed
When such I meet, and wish great _Juno_ would
Resume her antient fit of _jealousie_
To get the Soldier work, that peace might purge
For her repletion, and retain anew
Her charitable heart now hard, and harsher
Than strife, or war could be.

_Arcite._ Are you not out?
Meet you no ruin, but the Soldier in
The crancks and turns of _Thebs_? you did begin
As if you met decaies of many kinds:
Perceive you none, that do arouse your pity
But th' unconsider'd Soldier?

_Pal._ Yes, I pity
Decaies where-e'er I find them, but such most
That sweating in an honourable toil
Are paid with Ice to cool 'em.

_Arcite._ 'Tis not this
I did begin to speak of, this is virtue
Of no respect in _Thebs_, I spake of _Thebs_
How dangerous if we will keep our honors,
It is for our residing, where every evil
Hath a good colour; where ev'ry seeming good's
A certain evil, where not to be ev'n jump
As they are, here were to be strangers, and
Such things to be meer Monsters.

_Pal._ 'Tis in our power,
(Unless we fear that Apes can Tutor's) to
Be Masters of our manners: what need I
Affect anothers gate, which is not catching
Where there is faith, or to be fond upon
Anothers way of speech, when by mine own
I may be reasonably conceiv'd; sav'd too,
Speaking it truly; why am I bound
By any generous bond to follow him
Follows his Taylor, haply so long, until
The follow'd, make pursuit? or let me know,
Why mine own Barber is unblest, with him
My poor Chinn too, for 'tis not Cizard just
To such a Favorites glass: What Cannon is there
That does command my Rapier from my hip
To dangle't in my hand, or to goe tip toe
Before the street be foul? either I am
The fore-horse in the Team, or I am none
That draw i' th' sequent trace: these poor slight sores,
Need not a Plantain; That which [r]ips my bosome
Almost to th' heart's.

_Arcite._ Our Uncle _Creon_.

_Pal._ He,
A most unbounded Tyrant, whose successes
Makes Heaven unfear'd, and villany assured
Beyond its power: there's nothing, almost puts
Faith in a Feavor, and deifies alone
Voluble chance, who only attributes
The faculties of other Instruments
To his own Nerves and act; Commands men service,
And what they win in't, boot and glory on;
That fears not to [do] harm; good, dares not; Let
The bloud of mine that's sibbe to him, be suckt
From me with Leeches, let them break and fall
Off me with that corruption.

_Arc._ Clear spirited Cosin
Let's leave his Court, that we may nothing share,
Of his loud infamy: for our milk,
Will relish of the pasture, and we must
Be vile, or disobedient, not his kinsmen
In blood, unless in quality.

_Pal._ Nothing truer:
I think the ecchoes of his shames have deaf't
The ears of heav'nly Justice: widdows cries
Descend again into their throats, and have not
Due audience of the gods: _Valerius_.

_Enter_ Valerius.

_Val._ The King calls for you; yet be leaden-footed
Till his great rage be off him. _Phebus_ when
He broke his whipstock, and exclaim'd against
The Horses of the Sun, but whisper'd to
The loudness of his fury.