Chapter VII: Part 7

_1 Gen._ Nay, take your own blouds counsel, Sir, hereafter,
I'll deal no further in't: if you remember,
It was not come to blows, when I advis'd you.

_Sold._ No, but I ever said, 'twould come to something,
And 'tis upon me, thank him: were he kin
To all the mighty Emperors upon earth,
He has not now in life three hours to reckon;
I watch but a free time.

_Enter_ Shamont.

_1 Gent._ Your noble brother, Sir, I'll leave you now. [_Ex._

_Sham._ Soldier, I would I could perswade my thoughts
From thinking thee a brother, as I can
My tongue from naming on't: thou hast no friend here,
But fortune and thy own strength, trust to them.

[_Sold._ How? what's the incitement, sir?]

_Sham._ Treachery to virtue;
Thy treachery, thy faithless circumvention:
Has Honor so few daughters, never fewer,
And must thou aim thy treachery at the best?
The very front of virtue, that blest Lady? the Dukes Sister?
Created more for admirations cause,
Than for loves ends; whose excellency sparkles
More in Divinity, than mortal beauty;
And as much difference 'twixt her mind and body,
As 'twixt this earths poor centre, and the Sun:
And could'st thou be so injurious to fair goodness,
Once to attempt to court her down to frailty?
Or put her but in mind that there is weakness,
Sin, and desire, which she should never hear of?
Wretch, thou'st committed worse than Sacriledge,
In the attempting on't, and ought'st to dye for't.

_Sold._ I rather ought to do my best, to live, Sir.
Provoke me not; for I've a wrong sits on me,
That makes me apt for mischief; [I] shall lose
All respects suddainly of friendship, Brother-hood,
Or any sound that way.

_Sham._ But 'ware me most;
For I come with a two-edg'd injury;
Both my disgrace, and thy apparent falshood,
Which must [b]e dangerous.

_Sold._ I courted her, Sir;
Love starve me with delays, when I confess it not.

_Sham._ There's nothing then but death
Can be a pennance fit for that confession.

_Sold._ But far from any vitious taint.

_Sham._ Oh Sir,
Vice is a mighty stranger grown to courtship.

_Sold._ Nay, then the fury of my wrong light on thee.

_Enter 1 Gentleman, and others._

_1 Gen._ Forbear, the Duke's at hand.
Here, hard at hand, upon my reputation.

_Sold._ I must do something now. [_Ex. Sold._

_Sham._ I'll follow you close Sir.

_1 Gen._ We must intreat you must not; for the Duke
Desires some conference with you.

_Sham._ Let me go,
As y'are Gentlemen.

_2 Gent._ Faith we dare not Sir.

_Sham._ Dare ye be false to honor, and yet dare not
Do a man justice? give me leave--

_1 Gent._ Good sweet Sir.
H'as sent twice for you.

_Sham._ Is this brave, or manly?

_1 Gent._ I prethee be conform'd.

_Sham._ Death--

_Enter Duke._

_2 Gent._ Peace, he's come in troth.

_Sham._ Oh have you betraid me to my shame afresh?
How am I bound to loath you!

_Duke. Shamont_, welcome,
I sent twice.

_2 Gent._ But my Lord, he never heard on't.

_Sham._ Pray pardon him, for his falseness, I did Sir,
Both times; I'd rather be found rude, than faithless.

_Duke._ I love that bluntness dearly: h'as no vice,
But is more manly than some others virtue,
That lets it out only for shew or profit.

_Sham._ Will't please you quit me, Sir, I've urgent business?

_Duke._ Come, you're so hasty now, I sent for you
To a better end.

_Sham._ And if it be an end,
Better or worse, I thank your goodness for't.

_Duke._ I've ever kept that bounty in condition,
And thankfulness in bloud, which well becomes
Both Prince and Subject, that where any wrong
Bears my impression, or the hasty figure
Of my repented anger, I'm a Law
Ev'n to my self, and doom my self most strictly
To Justice, and a noble satisfaction:
So that, what you, in tenderness of honor,
Conceive to be loss to you, which is nothing
But curious opinion, I'll restore agen,
Although I give you the best part of _Genoa_,
And take to boot but thanks for your amends.

_Sham._ Oh miserable satisfaction,
Ten times more wretched than the wrong it self;
Never was ill better made good with worse:
Shall it be said, that my posterity
Shall live the sole heir[es] of their fathers shame?
And raise their wealth and glory from my stripes?
You have provided nobly, bounteous Sir,
For my disgrace, to make it live for ever,
Out-lasting Brass or Marble:
This is my fears construction, and a deep one,
Which neither argument nor time can alter:
Yet I dare swear, I wrong your goodness in't Sir,
And the most fair intent on't, which I reverence
With admiration, that in you a Prince,
Should be so sweet and temperate a condition,
To offer to restore where you may ruine,
And do't with justice, and in me a servant,
So harsh a disposition, that I cannot
Forgive where I should honor, and am bound to't.
But I have ever had that curiosity
In bloud, and tenderness of reputation
Such an antipathy against a blow,
I cannot speak the rest: Good Sir discharge me,
It is not fit that I should serve you more,
Nor come so near you; I'm made now for privacy,
And a retir'd condition, that's my suit:
To part from Court for ever, my last suit;
And as you profess bounty, grant me that Sir.

_Duk[e]._ I would deny thee nothing.

_Sham._ Health reward you, Sir. [_Exit._

_Duke._ He's gone agen already, and takes hold
Of any opportunity: not riches
Can purchase him, nor honors, peaceably,
And force were brutish: what a great worth's gone with him,
And but a Gentleman? well, for his sake,
I'll ne'er offend more, those I cannot make;
They were his words, and shall be dear to memory.
Say I desire to see him once agen;
Yet stay, he's so well forward of his peace,
'Twere pity to disturb him: he would groan
Like a soul fetch'd agen; and that were injury,
And I've wrong'd his degree too much already.
Call forth the Gentlem[e]n of our chamber instantly.

_1 Serv._ I shall my Lord. [_Within._

_Duke._ I may forget agen,
And therefore will prevent: the strain of this
Troubles me so, one would not hazard more.

_Enter 1 Gent, and divers others._

_Gent._ Your Will my Lord?

_Duke._ Yes; I discharge you all.

_2 Gent._ My Lord--

_Duke._ Your places shall be otherwise dispos'd of.

_4 Gent._ Why Sir?

_Duke._ Reply not, I dismiss you all:
Y'are Gentlemen, your worths will find you fortunes;
Nor shall your farewell taxe me of ingratitude.
I'll give you all noble remembrances,
As testimonies 'gainst reproach and malice,
That you departed lov'd.

_3 Gen._ This is most strange, Sir.

_1 Gent._ But how is your Grace furnish'd, these dismiss'd?

_Duke._ Seek me out Grooms.
Men more insensible of reputation,
Less curious and precise in terms of honor,
That if my anger chance let fall a stroke,
As we are all subject to impetuous passions,
Yet it may pass unmurmur'd, undisputed;
And not with braver fury prosecuted. [_Exit._

_1 Gent._ It shall be done, my Lord.

_3 Gent._ Know you the cause, Sir?

_1 Gent._ Not I kind Gentlemen, but by conjectures,
And so much shall be yours when you please.

_4._ Thanks Sir.

_3 Gent._ We shall i'th mean time think our selves guilty
Of some foul fault, through ignorance committed.

_1 Gent._ No, 'tis not that, nor that way.

_4 Gent._ For my part,
I shall be dis-inherited, I know so much.

_1 Gent._ Why Sir, for what?

_4 Gent._ My Sire's of a strange humor,
He'll form faults for me, and then swear 'em mine,
And commonly the first begins with leachery,
He knows his own youths trespass.

_1 Gent._ Before you go,
I'll come and take my leave, and tell you all Sirs.

_3 Gent._ Thou wert ever just and kind. [_Exit._

_1 Gent._ That's my poor virtue, Sir,
And parcel valiant; but it's hard to be perfect:
The choosing of these fellows now will puzle me,
Horribly puzle me; and there's no judgement
Goes true upon mans outside, there's the mischief:
He must be touch'd, and try'd, for gold or dross;
There is no other way for't, and that's dangerous too;
But since I'm put in trust, [I] will attempt it:
The Duke shall keep one daring man about him.

_Enter a Gallant._

Soft, who comes here? a pretty bravery this:
Every one goes so like a Gentleman,
'Tis hard to find a difference, but by th' touch.
I'll try your mettal sure.

_Gal._ Why what do you mean Sir?

_1 Gent._ Nay, and you understand it not, I do not.

_Gal._ Yes, would you should well know,
I understand it for a box o'th' ear Sir.

_1 Gent._ And o'my troth, that's all I gave it for.

_Gal._ 'Twere best it be so.

_1 Gent._ This is a brave Coward,
A jolly threat'ning Coward; he shall be Captain:
Sir, let me meet you an hour hence i'th' Lobby.

_Gal._ Meet you? the world might laugh at [me] then i'faith.

_1 Ge._ Lay by your scorn and pride, they're scurvy qualities,
And meet me, or I'll box you while I have you,
And carry you gambril'd thither like a Mutton.

_Gal._ Nay, and you be in earnest, here's my hand.
I will not fail you.

_1 Gent._ 'Tis for your own good.

_Gal._ Away.

_1 Gent._ Too much for your own good, Sir, a pox on you.

_Gal._ I prethee curse me all day long so.

_1 Gent._ Hang you.

_Gal._ I'll make him mad: he's loth to curse too much to me;
Indeed I never yet took box o'th' ear,
But it redounded, I must needs say so--

_1 Gent._ Will you be gone?

_Gal._ Curse, curse, and then I goe.
Look how he grins, I've anger'd him to th' kidneys. [_Ex._

_1 Gen._ Was ever such a prigging coxcomb seen?
One might have beat him dumb now in this humor,
And he'd ha' grin'd it out still:

_Enter a plain fellow._

Oh, here's one made to my hand,
Methinks looks like a Craven;
Less pains will serve his trial: some slight justle.

_Plain._ How? take you that Sir:
And if that content you not--

_1 Gent._ Yes very well, Sir, I desire no more.

_Plain._ I think you need not;
For you have not lost by't. [_Exit._

_1 Gent._ Who would ha' thought this would have prov'd a Gentleman?
I'll never trust long chins and little legs agen,
I'll know 'em sure for Gentlemen hereafter:
A gristle but in shew, but gave his cuff
With such a fetch, and reach of gentry,
As if h' had had his arms before the floud;
I have took a villanous hard taske upon me;
Now I begin to have a feeling on't.

_Enter_ Lapet, _and Clown his servant, and so habited_.

Oh, here comes a try'd piece, now, the reformed kick.
The millions of punches, spurns, and nips
That he has endur'd! his buttock's all black Lead,
He's half a _Negro_ backward; he was past a _Spaniard_
In Eighty eight, and more _Ægyptian_ like;
His Table and his Book come both out shortly,
And all the cowards in the Town expect it;
So, if I fail of my full number now,
I shall be sure to find 'em at Church corners,
Where _Dives_, and the suff'ring Ballads hang.

_Lap._ Well, since thou art of so mild a temper,
Of so meek a spirit, thou mayst live with me,
Till better times do smile on thy deserts.
I am glad I am got home again.

_Clow._ I am happy in your service, Sir,
You'll keep me from the Hospital.

_Lap._ So, bring me the last proof, this is corrected.

_Clow._ I, y'are too full of your correction, Sir.

_Lap._ Look I have perfect Books within this half hour.

_Clow._ Yes Sir.

_Lap._ Bid him put all the Thumps in _Pica Roman_.
And with great T's, (you vermin) as Thumps should be.

_Clow._ Then in what Letter will you have your Kicks?

_Lap._ All in _Italica_, your backward blows
All in _Italica_, you _Hermaphrodite_:
When shall I teach you wit?

_Clow._ Oh let it alone,
Till you have some your self, Sir.

_Lap._ You mumble?

_Clow._ The victuals are lockt up;
I'm kept from mumbling. [_Exit._

_Lap._ He prints my blows upon Pot Paper too, the rogue,
Which had been proper for some drunken Pamphlet.

_1 Gent._ Monsieur _Lapet_? how the world rings of you, Sir!
Your name sounds far and near.

_Lap._ A good report it bears, for an enduring name--

_1 Gent._ What luck have you Sir?

_Lap._ Why, what's the matter?

_1 Gent._ I'm but thinking on't.
I've heard you wish these five years for a place.
Now there's one fall'n, and freely without money too;
And empty yet, and yet you cannot have't.

_Lap._ No? what's the reason? I'll give money for't,
Rather than go without Sir.

_1 Gen._ That's not it Sir:
The troth is, there's no Gentleman must have it
Either for love or money, 'tis decreed so;
I was heartily sorry when I thought upon you,
Had you not been a Gentleman, I had fitted you.

_Lap._ Who I a Gentleman? a pox I'm none, Sir.

_1 Gent._ How?

_Lap._ How? why did you ever think I was?

_1 Gent._ What? not a Gentleman?

_Lap._ I would thou'dst put it upon me i'faith;
Did not my Grand-father cry Cony-skins?
My Father _Aquavitæ_? a hot Gentleman:
All this I speak on, i' your time and memory too;
Only a rich Uncle dy'd, and left me chattels,
You know all this so well too--

_1 Gent._ Pray excuse me, Sir, ha' not you Arms?

_Lap._ Yes, a poor couple here,
That serve to thrust in wild-Fowl.

_1 Gent._ Heralds Arms,
Symbols of Gentry, Sir: you know my meaning;
They've been shewn and seen.

_Lap._ They have.

_1 Gen._ I fex have they.

_Lap._ Why I confess, at my wives instigation once,
(As Women love these Heralds kickshawes naturally)
I bought 'em: but what are they think you? puffs.

_1 Gent._ Why, that's proper to your name being _Lapet_.
Which is _La fart_, after the _English_ Letter.

_Lap._ The Herald, Sir, had much adoe to find it.

_1 Gent._ And can you blame him?
Why, 'tis the only thing that puzles the devil.

_Lap._ At last he lookt upon my name agen,
And having well compar'd it, this he gave me,
The two Cholliques playing upon a wind Instrument.

_1 Gent._ An excellent proper one; but I pray tell me,
How does he express the Cholliques?
They are hard things.

_Lap._ The Cholliques? with hot trenchers at their bellies;
There's nothing better, Sir, to blaze a Chollique.

_1 Gent._ And are not you a Gentleman by this Sir?

_Lap._ No, I disclaim't: no belly-ake upon earth
Shall make me one: he shall not think
To put his gripes upon me,
And wring out gentry so, and ten pound first.
If the wind Instrument will make my wife one,
Let her enjoy't, for she was a Harpers Grand-child:
But Sir, for my particular, I renounce it.

_1 Gent._ Or to be call'd so?

_Lap._ I Sir, or imagin'd.

_1 Gent._ None fitter for the place: give me thy hand.

_Lap._ A hundred thousand thanks, beside a Bribe, Sir.

_1 Gent._ Yo[u] must take heed
Of thinking toward a Gentleman, now.

_Lap._ Pish, I am not mad, I warrant you: nay, more Sir,
If one should twit me i'th' teeth that I'm a Gentleman,
Twit me their worst, I am but one since _Lammas_,
That I can prove, if they would see my heart out.

_[1] Gen._ Marry, in any case keep me that evidence.

_Enter Clown._

_Lap._ Here comes my Servant; Sir, _Galoshio_,
Has not his name for nought, he will be trode upon:
What says my Printer now?

_Clow._ Here's your last Proof, Sir.
You shall have perfect Books now in a twinkling.

_Lap._ These marks are ugly.

_Clow._ He says, Sir, they're proper:
Blows should have marks, or else they are nothing worth.

_La._ But why a Peel-crow here?

_Clow._ I told 'em so Sir:
A scare-crow had been better.

_Lap._ How slave? look you, Sir,
Did not I say, this _Whirrit_, and this _Bob_,
Should be both _Pica Roman_.

_Clow._ So said I, Sir, both _Picked Romans_,
And he has made 'em _Welch_ Bills,
Indeed I know not what to make on 'em.

_Lap._ Hay-day; a _Souse_, _Italica_?

_Clow._ Yes, that may hold, Sir,
_Souse_ is a _bona roba_, so is _Flops_ too.

_Lap._ But why stands _Bastinado_ so far off here?

_Clow._ Alas, you must allow him room to lay about him, Sir.

_La._ Why lies this _Spurn lower_ than that _Spurn_, Sir?

_Clow._ Marry, this signifies one kick[t] down stairs, Sir,
The other in a Gallery: I asked him all these questions.

_1 Gent._ Your Books name?
Prethee _Lapet_ mind me, you never told me yet.

_La._ Marry but shall Sir: 'tis call'd the Uprising of the _kick_;
And the downfall of the _Duello_.

_1 Gent._ Bring that to pass, you'll prove a happy member,
And do your Countrey service: your young blouds
Will thank you then, why they see fourscore.

_Lap._ I hope
To save my hundred Gentlemen a month by't,
Which will be very good for the private house.

_Clow._ Look you, your Table's finish'd, Sir, already.

_Lap._ Why then behold my Master-piece: see, see, Sir,
Here's all your Blows, and Blow-men whatsoever;
Set in their lively colours, givers, and takers.

_1 Gent._ Troth wondrous fine, Sir.

_Lap._ Nay, but mark the postures,
The standing of the takers, I admire more than the givers;
They stand scornfully, most contumeliously, I like not them,
Oh here's one cast into a comely Figure.

_Clow._ My Master means him there that's cast down headlong.

_Lap._ How sweetly does this fellow take his _Dowst_!
Stoops like a _Cammel_, that Heroick beast,
At a great load of Nutmegs; and how meekly
This other fellow here receives his _Whirrit_!

_Clow._ Oh Master, here's a fellow stands most gallantly,
Taking his _kick_ in private, behind the hangings,
And raising up his hips to't. But oh, Sir,
How daintily this man lies trampled on!
Would I were in thy place, what e'er thou art:
How lovely he endures it!

_1 Gent._ But will not these things, Sir, be hard to practice, think
you?

_Lap._ Oh, easie, Sir: I'll teach 'em in a Dance.

_1 Gent._ How? in a dance?

_Lap._ I'll lose my new place else,
What e'er it be; I know not what 'tis yet.

_1 Gent._ And now you put me in mind, I could employ it well,
For your grace, specially: For the Dukes Cosin
Is by this time in's violent fit of mirth,
And a device must be sought out for suddainly,
To over-cloy the passion.

_Lap._ Say no more, Sir,
I'll fit you with my Scholars, new practitioners,
Endurers of the time.

_Clow._ Whereof I am one Sir.

_1 Gent._ You carry it away smooth; give me thy hand, Sir. [_Exeunt._

_Actus Quintus. Scæna Prima._

_Enter the two Brothers._

_Pas._ Ha, ha, ha. [_Within._

_2 Bro._ Hark, hark, how loud his fit's grown.

_Pas._ Ha, ha, ha.

_1 Bro._ Now let our Sister lose no time, but ply it
With all the power she has.

_2 Bro._ Her shame grows big, brother;
The _Cupid_'s shape will hardly hold it longer,
'Twould take up half an Ell of _China_ Damask more,
And all too little: it struts per'lously:
There is no tamp'ring with these _Cupids_ longer,
The meer conceit with Woman-kind works strong.

_Pas._ Ha, ha, ha.

_2 Bro._ The laugh comes nearer now,
'Twere good we were not seen yet. [_Ex. Bro._

_Enter Passion, and Base, his jester._

_Pas._ Ha, ha, ha,
And was he bastinado'd to the life? ha, ha, ha.
I prethee say, Lord General, how did the rascals
Entrench themselves?

_Base._ Most deeply, politickly, all in ditches.

_Pas._ Ha, ha, ha.

_Bas._ 'Tis thought he'll ne'r bear Arms [ith'] field agen,
Has much ado to lift 'em to his head, Sir.

_Pas._ I would he had.

_Bas._ On either side round Truncheons plaid so thick,
That Shoulders, Chines, nay Flanks were paid to th' quick.

_Pas._ Well said Lord-General: ha, ha, ha.

_Bas._ But pray how grew the diff'rence first betwixt you?

_Pas._ There was never any, Sir; there lies the jest man;
Only because he was taller than his brother;
There's all my quarrel, to him; and methought
He should be beaten for't, my mind so gave me, Sir,
I could not sleep for't: Ha, ha, ha, ha.
Another good jest quickly, while 'tis hot now;
Let me not laugh in vain: ply me, oh ply me,
As you will answer't to my cosin Duke.

_Bas._ Alas, who has a good jest?

_Pas._ I fall, I dwindle in't.

_Bas._ Ten Crowns for a go[o]d jest: ha' you a good jest, Sir?

_Enter Servant._

_Serv._ A pretty moral one.

_Bas._ Let's ha't, what e'er it be.

_Serv._ There comes a _Cupid_
Drawn by six fools.

_Bas._ That's nothing.

_Pas._ Help it, help it then.

_Bas._ I ha' known six hundred fools drawn by a _Cupid_.

_Pas._ I that, that, that's the smarter Moral: ha, ha, ha.
Now I begin to be Song-ripe methinks.

_Bas._ I'll sing you a pleasant Air Sir, before you ebb.

SONG.

Pas. _Oh how my Lungs do tickle! ha, ha, ha._

_Bas. Oh how my Lungs do tickle! oh, oh, ho, ho._

Pas. Sings.

_Set a sharp Jest_
_Against my breast,_
_Then how my Lungs do tickle!_
_As Nightingales,_
_And things in Cambrick rails,_
_Sing best against a prickle,_
_Ha, ha, ha, ha._

Bas. _Ho, ho, ho, ho, ha._

Pas. _Laugh._

Bas. _Laugh._

Pas. _Laugh._

Bas. _Laugh._

Pas. _Wide._

Bas. _Loud._

Pas. _And vary._

Bas. _A smile is for a simpering Novice._

Pas. _One that ne'er tasted Caveare._

Bas. _Nor knows the smack of dear Anchovis._

Pas. _Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha._

Bas. _Ho, ho, ho, ho, ho._

Pas. _A gigling waiting wench for me,_
_That shews her teeth how white they be._

Bas. _A thing not fit for gravity,_
_For theirs are foul, and hardly three._

Pas. _Ha, ha, ha._

Bas. _Ho, ho, ho._

Pas. Democritus, _thou antient Fleerer,_
_How I miss thy laugh, and ha' since_.

Bas. _There you nam'd the famous Jeerer,_
_That ever jeer'd in_ Rome, _or_ Athens.

Pas. _Ha, ha, ha._

Bas. _Ho, ho, ho._

Pas. _How brave lives he that keeps a fool,_
_Although the rate be deeper!_

[B]as. _But he that is his own fool, Sir,_
_Does live a great deal cheaper._

Pas. _Sure I shall burst, burst, quite break, thou art so witty._

Bas. _'Tis rare to break at Court, for that belongs to th' City._

Pas. _Ha, ha, my spleen is almost worn to the last laughter._

Bas. _Oh keep a corner for a friend, a jest may come hereafter._

_Enter_ Lapet _and_ Clown, _and four other like fools, dancing,_
_the_ Cupid _leading, and bearing his Table, and holding it_
_up to_ Lapet _at every strain, and acting the postures_.

_Lap._ Twinge all now, twinge I say.
2 Strain.
Souse upon Souse.
3 Strain.
Douses single.
4 Strain.
Justle sides.
5 Strain.
Knee Belly.
6 Strain.
Kicksee Buttock.
7 Strain.

_La._ Downderry.

_Enter Soldier_, Shamont_'s brother; his sword drawn_.

_Sol._ Not angry Law, nor doors of Brass shall keep me,
From my wrongs expiation to thy Bowels,
I return my disgrace; and after turn
My face to any death that can be sentenc'd.

_Base._ Murder, oh murder, stop the murderer there--

_Lap._ I am glad he's gone; h'as almost trode my guts out;
Follow him who list for me, I'll ha' no hand in't.

_Clo._ Oh 'twas your luck and mine to be squelch'd, Mr.
H'as stamp'd my very Puddings into Pancakes.

_Cup._ Oh brothers, oh, I fear 'tis mortal: help, oh help,
I'm made the wretchedst woman by this accident,
That ever love beguil'd.

_Enter two Brothers._

_2 Bro._ We are undone Brother,
Our shames are too apparent: Away receptacle
Of Luxury, and dishonor, most unfortunate,
To make thy self but lucky to thy spoil,
After thy Sexes manner: lift him up Brother;
He breaths not to our comfort, he's too wasted
Ever to cheer us more: A Chirurgeon speedily;
Hence; the unhappiest that e'er stept aside,
She'll be a Mother, before she's known a Bride.

_Cup._ Thou hadst a most unfortunate conception,
What e'er thou prov'st to be; in midst of mirth
Comes ruine, for a welcome, to thy birth. [_Exeunt._

_Scæna Secunda._

_Enter_ Shamont.

_Sham._ This is a beautiful life now; privacy
The sweetness and the benefit of Essence:
I see there is no man, but may make his Paradice;
And it is nothing but his love, and dotage
Upon the worlds foul joyes, that keeps him out on't:
For he that lives retir'd in mind, and spirit,
Is still in Paradice, and has his innocence,
Partly allow'd for his companion too,
As much as stands with justice: here no eyes
Shoot their sharp pointed scorns upon my shame;
They know no terms of reputation here,
No punctual limits, or precise dimensions:
Plain down-right honesty is all the beauty
And elegancy of life, found amongst Shepheards;
For knowing nothing nicely, or desiring it,
Quits many a vexation from the mind,
With which our quainter knowledge does abuse us;
The name of envy is a stranger here,
That dries mens blouds abroad, robs Health and Rest,
Why here's no such fury thought on: no, nor falshood,
That brotherly disease, fellow-like devil,
That plays within our bosom, and betrays us.

_Enter 1 Gent._

_1 Gent._ Oh are you here?

_Sham. La Nove_, 'tis strange to see thee.

_1 Gent._ I ha' rid one horse to death,
To find you out, Sir.

_Sham._ I am not to be found of any man
That saw my shame, nor seen long.

_1 Gent._ Good, your attention:
You ought to be seen now, and found out, Sir,
If ever you desire before your ending
To perform one good office, nay, a dear one,
Mans time can hardly match it.

_Sham._ Be't as precious
As reputation; if it come from Court
I will not hear on't.

_1 Gent._ You must hear of this, Sir.

_Sham._ Must?

_1 Gent._ You shall hear it.

_Sham._ I love thee, that thou'lt dye.

_1 Gent._ 'Twere nobler in me,
Than in you living: you will live a murderer,
If you deny this office.

_Sham._ Even to death, Sir.

_1 Gent._ Why then you'll kill your brother.

_Sham._ How?

_1 Gent._ Your Brother, Sir:
Bear witness heaven, this man destroys his Brother
When he may save him, his least breath may save him:
Can there be wilfuller destruction?
He was forc'd to take a most unmanly wrong,
Above the suff'ring virtue of a Soldier,
Has kill'd his injurer, a work of honor;
For which, unless you save him, he dies speedily
My conscience is discharg'd, I'm but a friend,
A Brother should go forward where I end. [_Exit._

_Sham._ Dyes?
Say he be naught, that's nothing to my goodness,
Which ought to shine through use, or else it loses
The glorious name 'tis known by: he's my brother;
Yet peace is above bloud: Let him go; I,
But where's the nobleness of affection then?
That must be car'd for too, or I'm imperfect,
The same bloud that stood up in wrath against him,
Now in his misery, runs all to pity;
I'd rather dye than speak one syllable
To save my self, but living as I am,
There's no avoiding on't, the worlds humanity
Expects it hourly from me: curse of fortune,
I took my leave so well too: Let him dye,
'Tis but a brother lost; so pleasingly,
And swiftly I came off, 'twere more than irksomness,
To tread that path agen; and I shall never
Depart so handsomely: but then where's posterity?
The consummation of our house and name?
I'm torn in pieces betwixt love and shame. [_Exit._

_Scæna Tertia._

_Enter_ Lapet, Clown, Poultrot, Moulbazon, _and_
_others, the new Court Officers_.

_Lap._ Good morrow fellow _Poltrot_, and _Moulbazon_,
Good morrow fellows all.

_Pol._ Monsieur _Lapet_?

_Lap._ Look, I've remembred you, here's books apiece for you.

_Moul._ Oh Sir, we dearly thank you.

_Lap._ So you may:
There's two impressions gone already, Sirs.

_Pol._ What no? in so short a time?

_Lap._ 'Tis as I tell you, Sir.
My Kick sells gallantly, I thank my stars.

_Clow._ So does your Table; you may thank the Moon too.

_Lap._ 'Tis the Book sells the Table.

_Clow._ But 'tis the Bookseller
That has the money for 'em, I'm sure o' that.

_Lap._ 'Twill much enrich the Company of Stationers,
'Tis thought 'twill prove a lasting benefit,
Like the _Wise Masters_, and the _Almanacks_,
The hundred _Novels_, and the Book of _Cookery_,
For they begin already to engross it,
And make it a Stock-book, thinking indeed
'Twill prove too great a benefit, and help,
For one that's new set up: they know their way,
And make him Warden, e'r his beard be gray.

_Moul._ Is't possible such virtue should lye hid,
And in so little Paper?

_Lap._ How? why there was the Carpenter,
An unknown thing; an odoriferous Pamphlet,
Yet no more Paper, by all computation,
Than _Ajax Telamon_ would use at once,
Your Herring prov'd the like, able to buy
Another _Fishers_ Folly, and your _Pasquil_
Went not below the mad-caps of that time,
And shall my elaborate _Kick_ come behind, think you?

_Clow._ Yes, it must come behind, 'tis in _Italica_ too,
According to your humor.

_Lap._ Not in sale, Varlet.

_Clow._ In sale, Sir? it shall sail beyond 'em all I tro.

_Lap._ What have you there now? oh Page 21.

_Clow._ That Page is come to his years, he should be a Serving man.

_Lap._ Mark how I snap up the _Duello_ there:
One would not use a dog so,
I must needs say; but's for the common good.

_Clow._ Nay Sir, your Commons seldom fight at sharp,
But buffet in a Warehouse.

_Lap._ This will save
Many a Gentleman of good bloud from bleeding, Sirs,
I have a curse from many a Barber-Surgeon;
They'd give but too much money to call't in;
Turn to Page 45. see what you find there.

_Clow._ Oh, out upon him,
Page 45. that's an old thief indeed.

_Enter Duke, the Lady his Sister, 1 Gent._

_Lap._ The Duke, clap down your Books; away _Galoshio_.

_Clow._ Indeed I am too foul to be i' th' presence,
They use to shake me off at the chamber door still. [_Ex._

_Lady._ Good my Lord, grant my suit: let me not rise
Without the comfort on't: I have not often
Been tedious in this kind.

_Duke._ Sister, you wrong your self,
And those great virtues that your Fame is made of,
To waste so much breath for a murderers life.

_Lad._ You cannot hate th' offence more than I do, Sir,
Nor the offender, the respect I owe
Unto his absent brother, makes me a suitor,
A most importunate Sister, make me worthy
But of this one request.

_Duke._ I am deaf
To any importunacy, and sorry
For your forgetfulness; you never injur'd
Your worth so much, you ought to be rebuk'd for't:
Pursue good ways, end as you did begin,
'Tis half the guilt to speak for such a sin.

_La._ This is loves beggery right, that now is ours,
When Ladies love, and cannot shew their powers. [_Ex._

_Du. La Nove?_

_1 Gent._ My Lord.

_Duke._ Are these our new Attendants?

_Lap._ We are my Lord, and will endure as much
As better men, my Lord, and more I trust.

_Duke._ What's he?

_1 Gent._ My Lord, a decay'd Gentleman,
That will do any service.

_Duke._ A decay'd one?

_1 Gent._ A renounc'd one indeed: for this place only.

_Duke._ We renounce him then; go, discharge him instantly.
He that disclaims his gentry for meer gains,
That man's too base to make a vassal on.

_Lap._ What says the Duke?

_1 [Gent.]_ Faith little to your comfort, Sir,
You must be a Gentleman agen.

_Lap._ How?

_1 Gent._ There's no remedy.

_Lap._ Marry, the fates forefend: ne'r while I breathe, Sir.

_1 Gent._ The Duke will have it so, there's no resisting,
He spy'd it i' your forehead.

_Lap._ My wife's doing.
She thought she should be put below her betters now,
And su'd to ha' me a Gentleman agen.

_1 Gent._ And very likely, Sir,
Marry, I'll give you this comfort when all's done,
You'll never pass but for a scurvy one,
That's all the help you have: come shew your pace.

_Lap._ The heaviest Gentleman that e'er lost place;
Bear witness, I am forc'd to't. [_Exit._

_Duke._ Though you have a courser Title yet upon you,
Than those that left your places, without blame,
'Tis in your power to make your selves the same:
I cannot make you Gentlemen, that's a work
Rais'd from your own deservings, merit, manners,
And in-born virtue does it. Let your own goodness
Make you so great, my power shall make you greater;
And more t'encourage you, this I add agen,
There's many Grooms, now exact Gentlemen.

_Enter_ Shamont.

_Sham._ Methinks 'tis strange to me to enter here:
Is there in nature such an awful power,
To force me to this place? and make me do this?
Is mans affection stronger than his Will?
His resolution? was I not resolv'd
Never to see this place more? Do I bear
Within my breast one bloud that confounds th' other?
The bloud of Love, and Will, and the last weakest?
Had I ten Millions, I would give it all now,
I were but past it, or 'twould never come;
For I shall never do't, or not do't well,
But spoil it utterly betwixt two passions,
Yonder's the Duke himself, I will not do't now,
Had twenty lives their several sufferings in him. [_Exit._

_Duke._ Who's that went out now?

_Pol._ I saw none my Lord.

_Duke._ Nor you?

_Moul._ I saw the glimpse of one my Lord.

_Duke._ What e'er it was, methought it pleas'd me strangely
And suddenly my joy was ready for't.
Did you not mark it better?

_Pol. & Moul._ Troth my Lord,
We gave no great heed to't.

_Enter_ Shamont.

_Sham._ 'Twill not be answer'd,
It brings me hither still; by main force hither:
Either I must give over to profess humanity,
Or I must speak for him.

_Duke._ 'Tis here agen:
No marvel 'twas so pleasing, 'tis delight
And worth it self, now it appears unclouded.

_Sham._ My Lord--
He turns away from me: by this hand
I am ill-us'd of all sides: 'tis a fault
That fortune ever had t'abuse a goodness.

_Duke._ Methought you were saying somewhat.

_Sham._ Mark the Language,
As coy as fate; I see 'twill ne'er be granted.

_Duke._ We little look'd in troth to see you here yet.

_Sham._ Not till the day after my brother's death, I think.

_Duke._ Sure some great business drew you.

_Sham._ No insooth, Sir,
Only to come to see a brother dye, Sir,
That I may learn to go too; and if he deceive me not,
I think he will do well in't of a soldier,
Manly, and honestly: and if he weep then,
I shall not think the worse on's manhood for't,
Because he's leaving of that part that has it.

_Duke._ Has slain a noble Gentleman, think on't, Sir.

_Sham._ I would I could not, Sir.

_Duke._ Our kinsman too.

_Sham._ All this is but worse, Sir.

_Duke._ When 'tis at worst,
Yet seeing thee, he lives.

_Sham._ My Lord--

_Duke._ He lives,
Believe it as thy bliss, he dies not for't:
Will this make satisfaction for things past?

_Sham._ Oh my Lord--

_Duke._ Will it? speak.

_Sham._ With greater shame to my unworthiness.

_Duke._ Rise then, we're even: I never found it harder
To keep just with a man: my great work's ended.
I knew your brother's pardon was your suit, Sir.
How ever your nice modesty held it back.

_Sham._ I take a joy now, to confess it, Sir.

_Enter 1 Gent._

_1 Gent._ My Lord--

_Duke._ Hear me first, Sir, what e'er your news be:
Set free the Soldier instantly.

_1 Gent._ 'Tis done, my Lord.

_Duke._ How?

_1 Gent._ In effect: 'twas part of my news too,
There's fair hope of your noble kinsman's life, Sir.

_Duke._ What sayst thou?

_1 Gent._ And the most admired change
That living flesh e'r had; he's not the man my Lord;
Death cannot be more free from passions, Sir,
Than he is at this instant: he's so meek now,
He makes those seem passionate, was never thought of:
And for he fears his moods have oft disturb'd you, Sir,
He's only hasty now for his forgiveness,
And here behold him, Sir.

_Enter Passion, the_ Cupid, _and two Brothers_.

_Duke._ Let me give thanks first: our worthy Cosin--

_Pas._ Your unworthy trouble, Sir;
For which, with all acknowledg'd reverence,
I ask your pardon; and for injury
More known and wilful, I have chose a wife,
Without your counsel, or consent, my Lord.

_Duke._ A wife? where is she, Sir?

_Pas._ This noble Gentlewoman.

_Duke._ How?

_Pas._ Whose honor my forgetful times much wrong'd.

_Duke._ He's madder than he was.

_1 Gent._ I would ha' sworn for him.

_Duke._ The _Cupid_, Cosin?

_Pas._ Yes, this worthy Lady, Sir.

_Duke._ Still worse and worse.

_1 Bro._ Our Sister under pardon, my Lord.

_Duke._ What?

_2 Bro._ Which shape Love taught her to assume.

_Duke._ Is't truth then?

_1 Gent._ It appears plainly now, below the waste, my Lord.

_Duke. Shamont_, didst ever read of a She-_Cupid_?

_Sham._ Never in fiction yet: but it might hold, Sir;
For desire is of both Genders.

_Enter the Dukes Sister._

_Duke._ Make that good here: [_He joyns_ Shamont's _hand_
I take thee at thy word, Sir. [_and his Sisters_.

_Sham._ Oh my Lord,
Love would appear too bold, and rude from me,
Honour and admiration are her rights,
Her goodness is my Saint, my Lord.

_Duke._ I see,
Y'are both too modest to bestow your selves:
I'll save that virtue still, 'tis but my pains: come,
It shall be so.

_Sham._ This gift does but set forth my poverty.

_La._ Sir, that which you complain of, is my riches.

_Enter_ Shamont's _brother the Soldier_.

_Duke._ Soldier, now every noise sounds peace, th'art welcome.

_Sol._ Sir, my repentance sues for your blest favour,
Which once obtain'd, no injury shall lose it;
I'll suffer mightier wrongs.

_Duke._ Rise, lov'd and pardon'd:
For where Hope fail'd, nay Art it self resign'd,
Thou'st wrought that cure, which skill could never find;
Nor did there cease, but to our peace extend;
Never could wrongs boast of a nobler end. [_Exeunt._

EPILOGUE.

_Our Poet bid us say for his own part,_
_He cannot lay too much forth of his Art:_
_But fears our over-acting passions may,_
_As not adorn, deface his labour'd Play,_
_Yet still he's resolute, for what is writ_
_Of Nicer valour, and assumes the wit:_
_But for the Love-Scænes which he ever meant_,
Cupid _in's Peticoat should represent,_
_He'll stand no shock of censure; the Play's good,_
_He says he knows it, (if well understood.)_
_But we (blind god) beg, if thou art Divine,_
_Thou'lt shoot thy Arrows round, this Play was thine._

Mr. _Francis Beaumonts_ Letter to _Ben. Johnson_, written before he and Mr. _Fletcher_ came to _London_, with two of the precedent Comedies then not finish'd, which deferr'd their merry meetings at the _Mermaid_.

_The Sun which doth the greatest comfort bring_
_To absent friends, because the self-same thing_
_They know they see however absent, is,_
_Here our best Hay-make[r] forgive me this,_
_It is our Countreys stile. In this warm shine,_
_I l[y]e and dream of your full Mermaid Wine._
_Oh we have water mixt with Claret Lees,_
_Drink apt to bring in dryer Heresies_
_Than Beer, good only for the Sonnets strain,_
_With fustian Metaphors to stuff the brain,_
_So mixt, that given to the thirstiest one,_
_'Twill not prove Alms, unless he have the stone:_
_I think with one draught mans invention fades,_
_Two Cups had quite spoil'd_ Homers Illiads;
_'Tis Liquor that will find out_ Sutcliff's _wit,_
_Lye where he will, and make him write worse yet;_
_Fil'd with such moisture in most grievous qualms;_
_Did_ Rob[ert] Wisdom _write his Singing Psalms;_
_And so must I do this, and yet I think_
_It is a potion sent us down to drink,_
_By special Providence keeps us from fights,_
_Makes us not laugh, when we make legs to knights._
_'Tis this that keeps our minds fit for our States,_
_A Medicine to obey our Magistrates_:
_For we do live more free than you, no hate,_
_No envy at one anothers_ [happy] _State_
_Moves us, we are all equal every whit:_
_Of Land that God gives men here is their wit:_
_If we consider fully, for our best,_
_And gravest men will with his main house jest,_
_Scarce please you; we want subtilty to do_
_The City tricks, lye, hate, and flatter too:_
_Here are none that can bear a painted show,_
_Strike when you winch, and then lament the blow:_
_Who like Mills set the right way for to grind,_
_Can make their gains alike with every wind:_
_Only some fellows with the subtil'st pate_
_Amongst us, may perchance equivocate_
_At selling of a Horse, and that's the most._
_Methinks the little wit I had is lost_
_Since I saw you, for Wit is like a Rest_
_Held up at Tennis, which men do the best,_
_With the best gamesters: what things have we seen,_
_Done at the_ Mermaid! _heard words that have been_
_So nimble, and so full of subtil flame,_
_As if that every one from whence they came,_
_Had meant to put his whole wit in a jest,_
_And had resolv'd to live a fool, the rest_
_Of his dull life; then when there hath been thrown_
_Wit able enough to justifie the Town_
_For three days past, wit that might warrant be_
_For the whole City to talk foolishly_
_Till that were cancell'd, and when that was gone,_
_We left an Air behind us, which alone,_
_Was able to make the two next Companies_
_Right witty; though but downright fools, more wise._
_When I remember this, and see that now_
_The Countrey Gentlemen begin to allow_
_My wit for dry bobs, then I needs must cry,_
_I see my days of Ballating grow nigh;_
_I can already Riddle, and can Sing_
_[Ca]tches, sell bargains, and I fear shall bring_
_My self to speak the hardest words I find,_
_Over, as oft as any, with one wind,_
_That takes no medicines: But one thought of thee_
_Makes me remember all these things to be_
_The wit of our young men, fellows that show_
_No part of good, yet utter all they know:_
_Who like trees of the Guard, have growing souls._
_Only strong destiny, which all controuls,_
_I hope hath left a better fate in store,_
_For me thy friend, than to live ever poor,_
_Banisht unto this home; fate once again_
_Bring me to thee, who canst make smooth and plain_
_The way of Knowledge for me, and then I,_
_Who have no good but in thy company,_
_Protest it will my greatest comfort be_
_To acknowledge all I have to flow from thee_.

Ben. _when these_ Scænes _are perfect, we'll taste wine;_
_I'll drink thy Muses health, thou shalt quaff mine_.

The Honest Man's Fortune.

A TRAGI-COMEDY.

The Persons represented in the Play.

Duke of _Orleans, a spleenful detracting Lord_.
{ _Brother-in-law to_ Orleans,
Earl of { _a noble accomplish'd_
_Amiens_, { _Gentleman, servant to_
{ Lamira.
Mountague, _an honest Lord_.
Du-boys, } _Two faithful followers_
Longueville, } _of_ Mountague.
Voramer, _the loving and loyal Page of_ Mountague.
La Verdine, _a knavish Courtier_.
La Poop, _a foisting Captain_.
Mallicorn, _a sharking Citizen_.
Two Lawyers.
Two Creditors.
Officers.
Servants.

WOMEN.

Duchess of { _a virtuous Lady, and_
_Orleans_, { _chaste, (but suspected)_
{ _wife to the Duke_.
Lamira, _a modest Virgin, and a Lady, rich and noble_.
Charlotte, Lamira's _Woman_.

The Scene France.

The Principal Actors were

_Nathan Field_,
_Rob. Benfield_,
_Emanuel Read_,
_Joseph Taylor_,
_Will. Eglestone_,
_Thomas Basse_.

_Actus Primus. Scæna Prima._

_Enter the Duke of_ Orleance, _and the Earl of_ Amiens,
_at several doors_.

_Amiens._ Morrow, my Lord of _Orleans_.

_Orl._ You salute me like a stranger; brother _Orleance_ were to me
a Title more belonging, whom you call the Husband of your Sister.

_Ami._ Would the circumstances of your brotherhood had never
offer'd cause to make our conversation less familiar: I meet you
like a hindrance in your way: your great Lawsuit is now upon the
tongue, and ready for a judgement.

_Orl._ Came you from the Hall now?

_Ami._ Without stay; the Court is full, and such a press of people
does attend the issue, as if some great man were brought to his
arraignment.

_Orl._ Every mothers son of all that multitude of hearers, went to
be a witness of the misery your Sisters fortunes must have come to,
if my adversary who did love her first, had been her Husband.

_Ami._ The success may draw a testimony from them, to confirm the
same opinion, but they went prepar'd with no such hope or purpose.

_Orl._ And did you intreat the number of them, that are come with
no such hope or purpose.

_Ami._ Tush, your own experience of my heart can answer ye.

_Orl._ This doubtful, makes me clearly understand your disposition.

_Ami._ If your cause be just,
I wish you a conclusion like your cause.

_Orl._ I can have any common charity to such a Prayer
From a friend I would expect a love to prosper in;
Without exceptions such a love as might
Make all my undertakings thankful to't;
Precisely just is seldom faithful in our wishes
To another mans desires: Farewel. [_Exit_ Orl.

_Enter_ Montague _having a Purse_, Duboys, Longueville,
_and_ Voramer _the Page, with two Caskets_.

_Dub._ Here comes your adversarie's brother-in-law.

_Long._ The Lord of _Amiens_.

_Dub._ From the Hall I think.

_Ami._ I did so: save your Lordship.

_Mount._ That's a wish my Lord, as courteous to my present state,
As ever honest mind was thankful for;
For now my safety must expose it self
To question: yet to look for any free
Or hearty salutation (Sir) from you
Would be unreasonable in me.

_Ami._ Why?

_Mont._ Your Sister is my adversarie's wife;
That nearness needs must consequently draw
Your inclination to him.

_Ami._ I will grant
Him all the nearness his alliance claims,
And yet be nothing less impartial,
My Lord of _Montague_.

_Mont._ Lord of _Montague_ yet:
But (Sir) how long the dignity or state
Belonging to it will continue, stands
Upon [t]he dangerous passage of this hour.
Either for evermore to be confirm'd,
Or like the time wherein 'twas pleaded, gone:
Gone with it, never to be call'd again.

_Ami._ Justice direct your process to the end;
To both your persons my respect shall still
Be equal; but the righteous cause is that
Which bears my wishes to the side it holds,
Where, ever may it prosper. [_Exit_ Amiens.

_Mont._ Then my thanks
Are proper to you, if a man may raise
A confidence upon a lawful ground
I have no reason to be once perplex'd
With any doubtful motion, _Longue[v]ille_,
That Lord of _Amiens_, (didst observe him?) has
A worthy nature in him.

_Long._ Either 'tis his nature or his cunning.

_Mont._ That's the vizard of most mens actions,
Whose dissembled lives
Do carry only the similitude
Of goodness on 'em: but for him
Honest [b]ehaviour makes a true report,
What disposition does inhabit him,
Essential virtue.

_Long._ Then 'tis pity that
Injurious _Orleans_ is his brother.

_Dub._ He is but his brother-in-law.

_Long._ Law? that's as bad.

_Dub._ How is your Law as bad? I rather wish
The hangman thy Executor than that
Equivocation should be ominous.

_Enter two Lawyers, and two Creditors._

_Long._ Some of your Lawyers--

_1 Law._ What is ominous?

_2 Law._ Let no distrust trouble your Lordships thought.

_1 Law._ The evidences of your question'd Land
Ha' not so much as any literal
Advantage in 'em to be made against
Your Title.

_2 Law._ And your Council understands
The business fully.

_1 Law._ Th'are industrious, just.

_2 Law._ And very confident.

_1 Law._ Your state endures
A voluntary trial; like a man
Whose honors are maliciously accus'd.

_2 Law._ The accusation serves to clear his cause.

_1 Law._ And to approve his truth more.

_2 Law._ So shall all
Your adversarie's pleadings strengthen your
Possession.

_1 Law._ And be set upon record
To witness the hereditary right
Of you and yours.

_2 Law._ Courage, you have the law.

_Long._ And you the profits.

_Mont._ If discouragement
Could work upon me, your assurances
Would put me strongly into heart again;
But I was never fearful: and let fate
Deceive my expectation, yet I am
Prepared against dejection.

_1 Cre._ So are we.

_2 Cre._ We have received a comfortable hope
That all will speed well.

_Long._ What is he _Duboys_?

_Dub._ A Creditor.

_Long._ I thought so, for he speaks
As if he were a partner in his state.

_Mont._ Sir, I am largely indebted to your loves.

_Long._ More to their purses.

_M[o]nt._ Which you shall not lose.

_1 Cred._ Your Lordship.

_Dub._ That's another creditor.

_1 Cred._ Has interest in me.

_Long._ You have more of him.

_1 Cred._ And I have had so many promises
From these, and all your learned Counsellors;
How certainly your cause will prosper: that--

_Long._ You brought no Serjeants with you?

_Dub._ To attend his ill success.

_Mont._ Good Sir, I will not be
Unthankful either to their industries
Or your affections.

_1 Law._ All your Land (my Lord)
Is at the barr now, give me but ten Crowns
I'll save you harmless.

_Long._ Take him at his word;
If he does lose, you're sav'd by miracle,
For I never knew a Lawyer yet undone.

_1 Law._ Then now you shall, Sir, if this prospers not.

_Long._ Sir, I beseech you do not force your voice
To such a loudness, but be thrifty now;
Preserve it till you come to plead at bar
It will be much more profitable in
The satisfaction than the promise.

_1 Law._ Is not this a satisfaction to engage
My self for this assurance, if he--

_Mont._ No Sir, my ruin never shall import
Anothers loss, if not by accident,
And that my purpose is not guilty of:
You [are] engag'd in nothing but your care. [_Ex. Law._
Attend the Procurator to the Court,
Observe how things incline, and bring me word.

_Long._ I dare not, Sir, if I be taken there,
Mine ears will be in danger.

_Mont._ Why? hast thou
Committed something that deserves thine ears?

_Long._ No, but I fear the noise; my hearing will be
Perished by the noise; 'tis as good 't want
[A member, as to loose the use--]

_Mont._ The ornament is excepted.

_Long._ Well my Lord
I'll put 'em to the hazard. [_Exit_ Long.

_1 Cred._ Your desires be prosperous to you.

_2 Cred._ Our best Prayers wait
Upon your fortune. [_Exeunt_ Cred.

_Dub._ For your selves, not him.

_Mont._ Thou canst not blame 'em: I am in their debts.

_Ver._ But had your large expence (a part whereof
You owe 'em) for unprofitable Silks
And Laces, been bestowed among the poor,
That would have prayed the right way for you:
Not upon you.

_Mont._ For unprofitable Silks
And Laces? now believe me honest boy
Th'ast hit upon a reprehension that belongs
Unto me.

_Ver._ By ---- my Lord,
I had not so unmannerly a thought,
To reprehend you.

_Mont._ Why I love thee for't.
Mine own acknowledgement confirms thy words:
For once I do remember, comming from
The Mercers, where my Purse had spent it self
On those unprofitable toys thou speak'st of,
A man half naked with his poverty
Did meet me, and requested my relief:
I wanted whence to give it, yet his eyes
Spoke for him, those I could have satisfied
With some unfruitful sorrow, (if my tears
Would not have added rather to his grief,
Than eas'd it) but the true compassion that
I should have given I had not: this began
To make me think how many such mens wants
The vain superfluous cost I wore upon
My outside would have clothed, and left my self
A habit as becomming: to increase
This new consideration there came one
Clad in a garment plain and thrifty, yet
As decent as these fair dear follies; made
As if it were of purpose to despise
The vanity of shew: his purse had still
The power to do a charitable deed,
And did it.

_Dub._ Yet your inclination, Sir,
Deserv'd no less to be commended, than his action.

_Mont._ Prethee do not flatter me;
He that intends well, yet deprives himself
Of means, to put his good thoughts into deed,
Deceives his purpose of the due reward
That goodness merits: oh antiquity
Thy great examples of Nobility
Are out of imitation, or at least
So lamely follow'd, that thou art as much
Before this age in virtue, as in time.

_Dub._ Sir, it must needs be lamely followed, when
The chiefest men love to follow it
Are for the most part cripples.

_Mont._ Who are they?

_Dub._ Soldiers, my Lord, soldiers.