Chapter I: Part 1

SWETNAM,
THE
VVoman-hater,
ARRAIGNED BY
WOMEN.

_A new Comedie_,
Acted at the _Red Bull_, by the late Queenes Seruants.

LONDON,
Printed for _Richard Meighen_, and are to be sold at his Shops at Saint
_Clements_ Church, ouer-against _Essex_ House, and at _Westminster_
Hall. 1620.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

_Enter_ LORETTA,
PROLOGVS.

_The Women are all welcome; for the men,
They will be welcome: our care’s not for them.
’Tis we poore women, that must stand the brunt
Of this dayes try all: we are all accused.
How wee shall cleere our selues, there lyes the doubt.
The men, I know, will laugh, when they shall heare
Vs rayl’d at, and abused; and say, ’Tis well,
We all deserue as much. Let vm laugh on,
Lend but your kind assistance: you shall see
We will not be ore-come with Infamie,
And slanders that we neuer merited.
Be but you patient, I dare boldly say,
(If euer women pleased) weele please to day._

Vouchsafe to reade, I dare presume to say,
Yee shall be pleased; and thinke ’tis a good play.

ACTORVM NOMINA.

Atticus, _King of Sicilie_.
Lorenzo, _his Sonne_.
Lisandro, _Prince of Naples_.
Iago, } __{t}hree Noblemen_
Sforza, } __{o}f Sicilie_.
Nicanor, }
Scanfardo, _Servant to_ Nicanor.
_Two Gentlemen._
_A Captaine._
Swetnam, _alias_, Misogynos, _The Woman-hater_.
Swash, _his Man_.
_Two Iudges._
_Notarie._
_Cryer._

_Womens Parts._

Aurelia, _Queene_.
Leonida, _the Princesse_.
Loretta, _her Maid_.
_Three or foure other Women._

ACT. I. SCEN. I.

_Enter_ IAGO _and_ NICANOR, _two Noblemen of_ Sicilia, _in private
conference_.

NICANOR.

Hee was a vertuous and a hopefull Prince,
And we haue iust cause to lament his death,
For had he liu’d, and Spaine made war agen,
He would ha’ prou’d a Terror to his Foe.

_Iag._ A greater cause of griefe was neuer knowne,
Not onely in his death, but for the losse
Of Prince _Lorenzo_ too, his yonger brother,
Who hath beene missing almost eighteene moneths,
And none can tell whether aliue or dead.

_Nic._ How do’s the King beare these afflictions?

_Enter another Lord._

_Iag._ Now you shall heare how fares his Maiestie.

_Lord._ Oh my good Lords, our sorrowes still increase,
A greater tide of woe is to be fear’d,
The Kings decay, with griefe for his two sonnes.

_Iag._ The gods forbid, let’s in and comfort him.

_3. Lord._ Alas, his sorrow’s such
He will not suffer vs to speake to him;
But turnes away in rage, and seemes to tread
The pace of one (if liuing) liuing dead.

_Iag._ See where he comes,
Lords, let vs all attend, _Enter_ King _in black, reading_.
Vntill his grace be pleas’d to speake to vs.

_Dead March._

_Attic._ Death is the ease of paine, and end of sorrow,
How can that be? Death gaue my sorrowes life,
For by his death my paine and griefe begun,
And in beginning, neuer will haue end: for though I die,
My losse will liue in future memorie,
I and (perhaps) will be lamented too,
And registred by some, when all shall heare
_Sicilia_ had two sonnes, yet had no heire.
Ha! What are you?
Who dares presume to interrupt vs thus?
What meanes this sorrow? Wherefore are these signes?
Or vnto whom are these obseruances?

_Nic._ Vnto our King.

_3. Lords._ To you my Soueraigne.

_Iag._ Your Subiects all lament to see you sad.

_Attic._ You all are Traytors then, and by my life
I will account you so:
Can you not be content with State and rule,
But you must come to take away my Crowne?
For solitude is sorrowes chiefest Crowne.
Griefe hath resign’d ouer his right to mee,
And I am King of all woes Monarchie.
You powers that grant Regeneration,
What meant you first to giue him vitall breath?
And make large Kingdomes proud of such a Prince
As my _Lusyppus_ was, so good, so vertuous:
Then, in his prime of yeares,
To take him from mee by vntimely death?
Oh! had my spirit wings, I would ascend
And fetch his soule againe from——
Oh my sad sorrowes! Whither am I driuen?
Into what maze of errors will you lead mee?
This Monster (Griefe) hath so distracted mee,
I had almost forgot mortalitie.

_Iag._ Deare Lord haue patience, though the heauens are pleas’d
To punish Princes for their Subiects faults,
In taking from vs such a hopefull Prince,
No doubt they will restore your yonger sonne,
Who cannot be but stay’d, and will, I hope
Be quickly heard of, to recall your ioyes.

_Attic._ No, I shall neuer see _Lorenzo_ more,
This eighteene moneths I haue not heard of him,
I feare some Traytors hand had seyz’d his life:
If hee were liuing, as that cannot bee;
I sooner looke to see the dead then hee:
For I am almost spent; This heape of age,
Mixt with my sorrow, soone will end my dayes.

_Nic._ My Liege, take comfort, I (your Subiect) vow
To goe my selfe to seeke _Lorenzo_ forth,
And ne’r returne vntill I find him out,
Or bring some newes what is become of him.

_3. Lord._ The like will I, or ne’r come backe agen.

_Iag._ Old as I am, I’le not be last behind,
And if my Soueraigne please to let mee goe.

_Attic._ I thanke your loues, but I’le restrain your wils:
If I should part from you, my dayes were done,
For I should neuer liue till your returne.

_Enter Nicanor._

_Nicanor_ my deare friend, _Iago_, _Sforza_,
One of you three, if I die issuelesse,
Must after mee be King of Sicilie,
Doe not forsake mee then.

_Omnes._ Long liue your grace:
And may your issue raigne eternally.

_Attic._ As for our daughter fayre _Leonida_,
Her female Sexe cannot inherit here, _Shout within._
One must inioy both her and Sicilie.
What sudden shout was that? Some know the cause;
Can there be so much ioy left in our Land,
To raise mens voyces to so high a sound?

_Enter Nicanor._

Or wast a shreeke of some new miserie?
For comfort cannot be expected here.
The newes, _Nicanor_. _Trumpets._

_Nic._ Happie, Sir, I hope,
There is a Souldier new arriu’d at Court,
Can tell some tidings of the long lost Prince:

_Sfor._ Sir, shall he haue accesse?

_Iag._ Oh ioyfull newes!

_Attic._ Is it a question, _Sforza_? Bring him in,
As you would doe some great Ambassadour;
He is no lesse. Comes he not from a Prince?
He do’s, if from _Lorenzo_ hee be sent.

_A flourish, with Trumpets. Enter a Captaine, brought in by the Lord
Scanfardoe._

Thou Man of Warre, once play the Orator,
Proue Griefe a guiltie Thiefe, condemne my feares,
And let my sorrowes suffer in these teares:
Haue I a sonne or no? Good Souldier speake.

_Capt._ Sir, I arriu’d by chance vpon your coast,
Yet hearing of the Proclamation
Which promis’d thousands vnto any man
That could bring newes to the Sicilian King,
Whether _Lorenzo_ were aliue or dead.

_Attic._ We’le double our reward what-e’r it be,
If hee be liuing: Dead, we’le keepe our word:
Then prethee say, What is become of him?

_Capt._ Not for reward, but loue to that braue Prince,
Whose memorie deserues to out-liue time,
Come I to tell what I too truely know;
In the Lepanthean battel not long since,
Where he was made Commander of a Fleet,
Vnder Don _Iohn_ the Spanish Generall,
He did demeane himselfe so manfully,
That he perfom’d wonders aboue beliefe;
For when the Nauies ioyn’d, the Cannons plaid,
And thundring clamors rang the dying knels
Of many thousand soules; He, void of feare,
Dalli’d with danger, and pursu’d the Foe
Thorow a bloudy Sea of Victorie:
Whether there slaine, or taken prisoner
By the too mercilesse misbeleeuing Turkes,
No man can tell:
That when Victorie fell to the Christians,
The conquest, and the glorie of the day
Was soone eclipst, in braue _Lorenzo’s_ losse;
That when the battel and the fight was done,
They knew not well whether they lost or wonne.

_Attic._ This newes is worse then death; Happy were I
If any now could tell me he were dead;
Death is farre sweeter then captiuitie:
My deare _Lorenzo_! Was it thy desire
To goe to Warre, made thee forsake thy Father,
Countrie, Friends, Life, Libertie? and vndergoe
Death, or Captiuitie, or some disaster
That exceeds ’em both? Yet, howso’er,
Captaine, We thanke thy loue; giue the reward
Was promis’d in the Proclamation.

_Capt._ I’le not be nice in the refusall, Sir,
It is no wonder t’see a Souldier want:
All good wait on yee; may the Heauens be pleas’d
To make you happy in your long lost sonne.

_Attic._ My comfort is, whether aliue or dead,
He brauely fought for Heauen and Christendome;
Such battels martyr men: their death’s a life
Suruiuing all this worlds felicitie.
Lords, Where’s _Leonida_, Our beautious child,
She’s all the comfort we haue left Vs now;
She must not haue her libertie to match,
The Girle is wanton, coy, and fickle too:
How many Princes hath the froward Elfe
Set at debate, desiring but her loue?
What dangers may insue? But to preuent,
_Nicanor_, wee make you her Gardian:
Let her be Princely vs’d; but no accesse
By any to her presence, but by such
As wee shall send, or giue commandment for:
’Tis death to any other dares attempt it.
I heare, the Prince of Naples seekes her loue:
Shee shall not wed with that presumptuous Boy,
His father and Our selfe were still at oddes,
Nor shall He thinke Wee will submit to Him.
Certaine he knowes not of _Lisandro’s_ sute,
For if he had, he would a come himselfe,
Or sent Ambassadors to speake for him.
We’le giue his answer ere to morrows Sunne
Shall retch to his Meridian, wretched state of Kings,
What end will follow where such woes begins?

_Nic._ Scanfardoe? _Exeunt omnes._

_Scan._ My good Lord? _Manet Nic. & Scanfardoe._

_Nic._ How lik’st thou this?
I am made Gardian of my owne harts blisse,
The Princesse is my Prisoner, I her Slaue,
I keepe her Body, but shee holds my Heart
Inuiron’d in a Chest of Adamant.

_Scan._ Is your Heart Iron?

_Nic._ Steele, I thinke it is;
And liue an Anuile hammerd by her words,
It sparkles fire that neuer can bee quencht,
But by the dew of her cœlestiall breath.
Oft haue I courted, bin reiected too,
Yet what of that? I’le trye her once agen.
What many Princes haue attempting fail’d,
I by accesse may purchase, that’s my hope;
The King I’me sure affects mee, nothing then
Is wanting but her loue, that once obtain’d
Sicill is ours: _Scanfardoe_? if we win,
Thou shalt be Lord _Nicanor_ I the King. _Exeunt._

SCEN. II.

_Enter_ MYSOGENOS _solus_.

_Mis._ By this, my thundering Booke is prest abroad,
I long to heare what a report it beares,
I know ’t will startle all our Citie Dames,
Worse then the roring Lyons, or the sound
Of a huge double Canon, _Swetnams_ name,
Will be more terrible in womens eares,
Then euer yet in _Misogenysts_ hath beene.

_Enter Clowne._

_Clow._ Puffe, giue me some ayre,
I am almost stifled, puffe, Oh, my sides!

_Mis._ From whence comm’st thou in such a puffing heate?
Hast thou been running for a wager, _Swash_?
Thou art horribly imbost. Where hast thou beene?
My life, he was haunted with some Spirit.

_Clow._ A Spirit? I thinke all the Deuils in Hell,
Haue had a pinch at my hanches,
I haue beene among the Furies, the Furies:
A Pox on your Booke: I haue beene paid ifaith,
You haue set all the women in the Towne in an vprore.

_Mis._ Why, what’s the matter, _Swash_?

_Clow._ Ne’r was poore _Swash_, so lasht, and pasht,
And crasht and dasht, as I haue beene,
Looke to your selfe, they’re vp in armes for you.

_Mis._ Why, Haue they weapons, _Swash_?

_Clow._ Weapons, Sir, I, Ile be sworne they haue.
And cutting ones, I felt the smart of ’em,
From the loines to the legs, from the head to th’ hams,
From the Front to the foot, I haue not one free spot.
Oh, I can shew you, Sir, such Characters.

_Mis._ What dost thou mean, man, wilt shame thy selfe?

_Clow._ Why, here’s none but you and I, Sir, is there?

_Mis._ Good, good, ifaith. This was a braue Reuenge.

_Clow._ If’t be so good, would you had had’t for me.

_Mis._ And if I liue, I will make all the World
To hate, as I doe, this affliction, Woman.

_Clow._ But we shall be afflicted in th’ meane time.
Pray let’s leaue this Land: if we stay heere,
We shall be torne a-pieces: would we had kept
In our owne Countrey, there w’are safe enough:
You might haue writ and raild your bellifull,
And few, or none would contradict you, Sir.

_Mis._ Oh, but for one that writ against me, _Swash_,
Ide had a glorious Conquest in that Ile,
How my Bookes tooke effect! how greedily
The credulous people swallowed downe my hookes
How rife debate sprang betwixt man and wife!
The little Infant that could hardly speake,
Would call his Mother Whore. O, it was rare!

_Clow._ Oh, damn’d Rogue!
I stay but here, in hope, to see him hang’d,
And carrie newes to _England_, then I know,
The women there will neuer see me want,
For God he knowes, I loue vm with my heart,
But dare not shew it for my very eares.
What course, Sir, shall we take to hide our selues?

_Mis._ The same we did at _Bristow_, Fencing Boy;
Oh 't is a fearefull name to Females, _Swash_,
I haue bought Foiles alreadie, set vp Bils,
Hung vp my two-hand Sword, and chang’d my name:
Call me _Mysogenos_.

_Enter Scanfardo._

_Clow._ A sodden Nose.

_Mis._ _Mysogenos_, I say. Remember, _Swash_, heere comes a Gentleman.

I know him well, he serues a Noble Lord.
Seignior _Scanfardo_, happily encountred.

_Scan._ Thanks, my noble Gladiator, Doctor of Defence.

_Mis._ A Master, Sir, of the most magnanimous Method of
Cudgell-cracking.

_Scan._ Ime glad I met with you.
I was now comming to be entred, Sir.

_Mis._ That you shall presently. My Rapier, _Swash_.
Come, Sir, I’ll enter you.

_Scan._ What meane you, Sir?

_Mis._ You say you would be entred, if you will,
Ile put you to the _Puncto_ presently.

_Scan._ Your Scholler, Sir, I meane.

_Mis._ O welcome, Sir, What, haue you brought your Fees?

_Scan._ Yes, Sir: what is’t?

_Mis._ Twentie _Piastros_, your admittance Sir,
And fiue, your quarteridge.

_Clow._ Besides Vshers Fees.
There goes a garnish and a breake-fast too.

_Scan._ Well, I’m content, there ’tis.

_Clow._ Come when you will, find you _Piastros_, Sir,
And we’ll find you crackt crownes.

_Mis._ Booke him, my bold Vsher.

_Clow._ That I will, your denomination, Seignior.

_Scan._ Seignior _Scanfardo, Della Sancta Cabrado_.

_Clow._ Seig. _Scan. Della Sancta Cabrado?_ a terrible name.

_Mis._ Giue me your hand, Scholer, so Ile cal you now.
Ile make you one of the Sonnes of Art.
_Swash_, giue my Scholer the Foyle.

_Clow._ Doe not take it in scorne,
I haue gi’n many a good Gentleman the Foyle, Sir.

_Mis._ I was going this morning to practise a young Duellist,
That shortly goes to fight at _Callis Sands_.
Come, Sir, to your guard.

_Scan._ Not here in publike, I am a young beginner.
Come to my Chamber, Sir, Ile practise there.

_Mis._ Doe, and Ile teach you the very mysterie of Fencing, that in a
fortnight, you shall be able to challenge any Scholer vnder the degree
of a Prouost, and in a quarter of a yeere, beat all the Fencers in
_Germany_. Our English Masters of this Noble Science would ha’ gi’n
fortie pound to haue knowne that tricke.

_Scan._ Say you so, Sir?

By this hand, I shall thinke my money well bestowed then: but to tell
you the truth, Sir, the reason I would learne, is, because I am to bee
married shortly: and they say, Then or neuer, is the time for a man to
get the mastery.

_Mis._ How, marry, Scholer? thou art not mad, I hope. Doe you know
what you doe?

_Scan._ I know what I shall doe, Master, that’s as good.

_Mis._ Doe you know what she is you are to marrie?

_Scan._ A woman, I am sure a that.

_Mis._ No, she’s a Deuill, Harpie, Cockatrice.

_Scan._ And you were not my Master——

_Mis._ Scholer, be aduised, they are all
Most vile and wicked.

_Scan._ How, Sir?

_Mis._ Dissemblers, the very curse of man, Monsters indeed.

_Clow._ That Ile be sworne they are, for I haue knowne some of vm,
that ha’ deuoured you three Lordships, in Cullices and Caudles before
Break-fast.

_Mis._ And creatures the most imperfect: for looke yee, Sir,
Th’are nothing of themselues,
Onely patcht vp to coozen and gull men,
Borrowing their haire from one, complexions from another,
Nothing their own that’s pleasing, all dissembled,
Not so much, but their very breath
Is sophisticated with Amber-pellets, and kissing causes.
Marry a woman, Scholer? thou vndergo’st an harder task,
Then those bold Spirits, that did vndertake
To steale the great _Turke_ into Christendome.
A woman! she’s an Angell at ten, a Saint at fifteene,
A Deuill at fortie, and a Witch at fourescore.
If you will marry, marry none of these:
Neither the faire, nor the foule; the rich, nor the poore;
The good, nor the bad.

_Scan._ Who should I marry then, Sir?

_Mis._ Marry none at all.

_Scan._ Proceeds this from Experience?

_Mis._ From Reason, Sir, the Mistris of Experience.
Happy were man, had woman neuer bin.
Why did not Nature infuse the gift of Procreation
In man alone, without the helpe of woman,
Euen as we see one seed, produce another?

_Clow._ Or as you see one Knaue make twentie, Master.

_Mis._ Thou saist true, _Swash_: or why might not a man
Reuiue againe, like to the Elme and Oake?

_Clow._ Many Logger-heads doe, Sir.

_Mis._ When they are cut downe to the very roote,
Yet in short time you see, young branches spring againe.

_Clow._ If ’twere so at Tyburne, what a fine companie
of Crack-ropes would spring vp then?

_Mis._ Then we should ne’r be acquainted with the deceitfull deuices
of a womans crooked conditions, which are so many, that if all the
World were Paper, the Sea, Inke, Trees and Plants, Pens, and euery man
Clarkes, Scribes, and Notaries: yet would all that Paper be scribled
ouer, the Inke wasted, Pens worne to the stumps, and all the
Scriueners wearie, before they could describe the hundreth part of a
womans wickednesse.

_Scan._ Me thinks you are too generall: some, no doubt,
As many men, are bad: condemne not all for some.
What thinke you, Sir, of those that haue good wiues?
I hope, you will confesse a difference.

_Mis._ And Reason too: and here’s the difference,
Those that haue good wiues, ride to Hell
Vpon ambling Hackneyes, and all the rest
Vpon trotting Iades to the Deuill.

_Scan._ Is that the difference? Ile not marrie sure,
Ile rather turne Whore-master,
And goe a-foot to the Deuill.

_Clow._ You’l hardly doe that, if you loue whoring, Sir.
For many lose a Legge in such seruice.

_Scan._ But doe you heare, Sir? how long is’t since you became such a
bitter Enemie to women?

_Mis._ Since I had wisdome. When I was a Foole,

I doted on such Follies, but now I haue left vm, and doe vow to be the
euerlasting scourge to all their Sex: What the reason is, Ile tell
you, Sir, hereafter: reade but that,

I haue arraign’d vm all, and painted forth
Those Furies to the life,
That all the World may know that doth it read,
I was a true Mysogenist indeed. _Exeunt._

SCEN. III.

_Enter_ IAGO, _and_ LORENZO _disguised_.

_Iag._ You haue not seene the Court then?

_Lor._ Not as yet.
But I desire to obserue the Fashions there.
How doe you stile your King of Sicilie?

_Iag._ Men call him, Sir, The iust King _Atticus_;
And truly too: for with an equall Scale
He waighes the offences betwixt man and man,
He is not sooth’d with adulation,
Nor mou’d with teares, to wrest the course of Iustice
Into an vniust current, to oppresse the Innocent,
Nor do’s he make the Lawes
Punish the man, but in the man the cause.
Shall I in briefe giue you his Character?

_Lor._ A thing I couet much.

_Iag._ Attend mee then.
His state is full of maiestie and grace,
Whose basis is true Pietie and Vertue,
Where, vnderneath a rich triumphant Arch,
That does resemble the Tribunall Seat,
Garded with Angels, borne vpon two Columnes,
Iuftice and Clemencie, he sits inthron’d,
His subiects serue him freely, not perforce,
And doe obey him more for loue, then feare;
Being a King not of themselues alone,
And their estates, but their affections:
A soueraigntie that farre more safetie brings,
Then do’s an Armie to the guard of Kings.

_Lor._ You haue describ’d, Sir, such a worthy Prince,
That well I cannot say, who is most happie;
Either the King for hauing so good subiects,
Or else the subiects for so good a King.
But pray proceed.

_Iag._ The Heauens to crowne his ioy,
With Immortalitie in his happie Issue
Sent him two Royall sonnes, of whom the eldest
Was the sweet Prince _Lusyppus_. Was! oh me,
That euer I should liue to say, he was:
He was, but is not now, for he is dead.
The yongest was _Lorenzo_, for his yeeres,
The pride and glory of Sicilians,
And miracle of Nature, whose aspect,
Euen like a Comet, did attract all eyes
With admiration, wonder and amazement,
And he good Prince, is lost, or worse, I feare:
But for his Daughter faire _Leonida_,
Her Fame not able to be circumscrib’d
Within the bounds of Sicilie, hath gone
Beyond the Pirean Mountaines, and brought backe
The chiefe Italian Princes, but their Loues
Were quitted with contempt and crueltie:
And many of our braue Sicilian Youths
Haue sacrific’d their liues to her disdaine.
Now to preuent the like euent hereafter,
’Twas thought fit her libertie should be awhile restraind,
For which intent, his Highnesse hath elected
The Lord _Nicanor_ for her Guardian,
Who, ’tis thought, shall after his decease,
Espouse the Princesse, and be heire of Sicill.

_Lor._ You told me of a Prince, you said was lost,
Which you pronounc’d so feelingly, as if
It had beene your losse in particular.

_Iag._ Oh, it was mine, and euery good mans else,
That is oblig’d to vertue and desert.

_Lor._ See how Report is subiect to abuse.
I knew the Prince _Lorenzo_.

_Iag._ Did you, Sir?

_Lor._ But neuer knew in him any one sparke
Of worth or merit, that might thus inflame
The zeale of your affection.

_Iag._ Traytor, thou lyest.
Which I will proue eu’n to thy heart, thou ly’st,
I tell thee, thou hast committed such a sinne
Against his deare Report, that thy base life
Is farre too poore to expiate that wrong.
Sir, will you draw?

_Lor._ Forbeare, incensed man. I doe applaud
Thy noble courage, and I tell you, Sir,
The Prince _Lorenzo_ was a man I lou’d
As dearely as my selfe: but pray resolue me;
Does he liue or not?

_Iag._ He liues,
In our eternall memorie he liues: but otherwise,
It’s the generall feare of Sicily,
That he is dead, or in Captiuitie.
For when _Don Iohn_, the Spanish Generall,
Went with an Armie ’gainst the cruell Turkes,
In that still memorable Battell of Lepanto,
Our braue _Lorenzo_, too too vent’rous,
There lost his life, or worse, his libertie.

_Lor._ Hath not Time with his rude hand
Defac’d the Impression of his Effigies
In your memories yet?

_Iag._ No, nor will euer be, so long
As worth shall be admir’d, and vertue loued.

_Lor._ You know him, if you see him.

_Iag._ My Lord _Lorenzo_!

_Lor._ Rise, my worthy Friend,
I haue made proofe of thy vnfayned loue.

_Iag._ Th’exceeding happinesse to see you well,
Is more then ioy can vtter: On my knees
I beg your pardon for th’vnciuill speech
My ignorant tongue committed.

_Lor._ No, thus I’le be reueng’d. _Imbraces him._
I know thou louest mee, and I must inioyne
Thy loue vnto an act of secresie,
Which you must not denie.

_Iag._ Sir, I obey.

_Lor._ Then thus it is, I must coniure your faith,
And priuacie in my arriuall yet,
For I intend a while in some disguise
To obserue the times and humors of the Court.

_Iag._ How meanes your Grace? can you indure to see
The Court eclipst with clouds of discontent,
Your father mourne your absence, and all hearts
Ore-whelm’d with sorrow, and you present, Sir?

_Lor._ _Iago_, I’me resolu’d:
Therefore what shape or humor I assume,
Take you no notice that I am the Prince.

_Iag._ Sir, I consent,
And vow to your concealement.

_Lor._ It is enough, my brother’s dead, thou saist:
I haue some teares to spend vpon his Tombe,
We are the next vnto the Diadem,
That’s the occasion I obscure my selfe.
Happie’s that Prince, that ere he rules, shall know,
VVhere the chiefe errors of his State doe grow.

_Exeunt._

ACT. II.

_Enter_ LISANDRO, _and_ LORETTA, _seuerall_.

_Lor._ My Lord _Lisandro_, y’are met happily.

_Lis._ _Loretta!_ welcome, welcome as my life.
How fares my dearest Saint?

_Lor._ Like a distressed Prisoner, whose hard fate
Hath bard her from all ioy in losing you,
A torment which she counts insufferable.

_Lis._ This separation, like the stroke of death,
Makes a diuorce betwixt my soule and mee;
For how can I liue without her
In whom my life subsists?
For neuer did the Load-stone more respect
The Northerne Pole, by natures kind instinct,
Then my affections truly sympathize
With her, the Starre of my felicitie.

_Lor._ Therefore shee prayes you, henceforth to desist,
Respecting your owne safetie: VVorthie Prince,
The times are troublesome and dangerous:
As for her selfe, she’s arm’d to vndergoe
All malice that for you they can inflict.

_Lis._ Oh my _Loretta_! thou appli’st a balme
VVorse then the wound it selfe: It is impossible
For me to liue at all but in her sight.
But was this all shee said,
That I should leaue her? Death could not ha’ spoke
A word more fatall to my soule and mee:
Let her inioyne mee to some other taske,
Tho it were greater then the sonne of Ioue
Did for his Step-dame _Iuno_ euer act:
Let it be any thing, so I may not leaue
Her sweet societie.

_Lor._ Then, here my Lord, read this.

_Lis._ I kisse thee for her sake, whose beautious hand
Hath here inclos’d so mild and sweet a doome.
See what a negatiue command shee hath
Impos’d vpon my sloth to visit her,
As if she taxed my neglect so long:
But pardon, deare _Leonida_, I come
To intimate thy fauor for my stay,
Tho thou wert garded with an host of men.
But how?
I must disguise me in some other shape,
For this is noted, and too full of danger.
_Loretta_, Who’s admitted best accesse
Vnto thy Lady?

_Lor._ Frier _Anthonie_,
Her Graces Confessor.

_Lis._ As I could wish: I know the Frier well;
I must assume that shape; It is the best:
_Loretta_, weare this Iewell for my sake;
Nay, prethee take it, not as recompence,
But as a token of that future good
Shall crowne thy merits, with such height and honour,
Fortune shall be asham’d, and held a Foole,
To suffer poore desert to ouer-match her. _Exit Lis._

_Lor._ I humbly thanke your Grace: Why, here’s a gift
Able to make a Saint turne Oratrix,
And pleade ’gainst Chastitie: I must confesse,
_Lisandro_ is a Noble Gentleman, and ha’s good gifts,

And is, indeed, gracious with my Ladie: Yet for all that, wee poore
Gentlewomen, that haue no other fortunes but our attendance, must now
and then make the best vse of our places: wee haue president, and very
lately too. But who comes here? my Lord _Nicanor_?

_Enter Nicanor_.

Here’s another Client——I must deuise some quaint deuice for him, to
delude his frostie apprehension—— Oh I ha’t.

_Nic._ _Loretta_, how is’t, wench? How thriues my suit, ha? Hast broke
with thy Lady yet?

_Lor._ He takes me for a Shee-Broker, but I’le fit him:
I haue my Lord, but find her so obdure,
That when I speake, she turnes away her eare,
As if her mind were fixt on something else.
The other day, finding her Grace alone,
I came and mou’d your suit; told her how deare
She stood in your affection; and protested,
You lou’d her more then all the World beside.

_Nic._ Good, good: proceed.

_Lor._ At this she answer’d not a word,
But kept her eye still fixt vpon me;
Then I begun agen, and told her Grace
(As from my selfe) how much your Honour
Had merited her fauour by desert;
How great you stood ith’ generall eye of all,
And one selected by the King her Father,
(Since Prince _Lorenzo’s_ death) to personate
The King of Sicill after his decease.

_Nic._ Excellent good i’faith. Then what said shee?

_Lor._ At this, I might perceiue her colour change
From red to pale, and then to red againe,
As if disdaine and rage had faintly stroue
In her confused brest for victorie.
At length, hauing recal’d her spirits,
She broke forth into these words; What, wilt thou
Conspire with youth and frailtie, to inforce
The rule of my affection ’gainst my will?
Tho’ my body be confin’d his prisoner,
Yet my mind is free. With that, shee charg’d mee
That I neuer should hereafter vrge your suit;
And this was all the comfort that I could
From her with all my diligence attaine.

_Nic._ Cold comfort, Wench, but ’tis the generall fault
Of women all, to make shew of dislike
To those they most affect: and in that hope
Thou shalt to her againe: No Citie
Euer yeelded at first skirmish. Before,
You came but to a parley, thou shalt now
Giue an assault: There’s nothing batters more
A womans resolution, then rich gifts;
Then goe, _Loretta_.

_Lor._ 'Las, my Lord, you know——

_Nic._ Feare nothing, Wench, giue her this chaine of pearle,
With it my selfe.

_Lor._ My Lord, I’le see what I can doe with her,
But—

_Nic._ What, _Loretta_? Oh, you looke for a fee:
Here, take this Gold: And if thou canst preuaile,
(Harke in thine eare) When I am King——

_Lor._ I thanke your Lordship: Ha, ha, ha.— _Exit Lor._

_Nic._ This womans weaknesse was wel wrought vpon,
Her words may take effect: ’Tis often seene
That women are like Diamonds; nothing cuts so soone
As their owne powder: yet there is one more
Will make a happy second,
Frier _Anthonie_ her Confessor; such men as hee
Can preuaile much with credulous Penitents
In causes of perswasion. Hoe, within?

_Enter Seruant._

_Scan._ Your Lordship call?

_Nic._ Bid Frier _Anthonie_
Come visit mee with all speed possible,
I could not thinke vpon a better Agent.
Their seeming sanctitie makes all their acts
Sauour of Truth, Religion, Pietie,
And proue that loue’s a heauenly Charitie,
Without which there’s no safetie. Here he comes.

_Enter_ Lisandro _like a Frier_.

_Lis._ The benediction of the blessed Saints
Attend your honour.

_Nic._ Welcome, holy Frier.

_Lis._ And crowne your wishes to your hearts desire.

_Nic._ Amen, _Anthonio_,
I’le say Amen to that; but yet the meanes
To make mee happy, lies within thy power.

_Lis._ Your Honour may command mee.

_Nic._ Then ’tis thus;
Thou know’st with what a generall consent
Of all Sicilia I was prelected
By my dread Soueraigne, to espouse the faire
Yet fond _Leonida_; granting me for dower
The Crowne of Sicil, after his decease.

_Lis._ I hope, my Lord, there’s none dares question that.

_Nic._ To which intent, how many hopefull Princes
Haue beene non-suted, onely for my sake?
And to preuent all meanes of their accesse,
Establish’d mee her Guardian: Now, the Princesse,
Although I haue her Person, yet her Heart
I find estrang’d from mee, and all my loue
Is quitted with contempt.

_Lis._ The Heauens forbid.

_Nic._ It is forbidden both by Heauen and Earth,
And yet Shee do’s it; and thou know’st then, Frier,
My hopes are frustrate. Therefore (holy Man)
Thou art her Counsel-Closet, her Confessor,
Of reuerend opinion with the Princesse.

_Lis._ I doe conceiue your Honour.

_Nic._ Be my Orator.

_Lis._ In what I may, my Lord.

_Nic._ If thou preuail’st,
I le make thee Metropolitane of Sicil.

_Lis._ It shall be all my care.

_Nic._ Then farewell, Father. _Exit Nic._

_Lis._ All my prayers attend yee.
So, here’s the fence throwne open; now my way
Is made before mee: Godamercy Cowle;
It is no maruell tho’ the credulous World
Thought themselues safe from danger, when they were
Inuested with this habit, ’tis the best,
To couer, or to gaine a free accesse,
That can be possible in any proiect.
How finely I haue guld my Politician,
That couets Loue, onely to gaine a Crowne?
But if my Loue proue constant, Ile withstand
All his desires with a more powerfull hand. _Exit._

_Enter_ LEONIDA _and_ LORETTA.

_Le._ Tell me, _Loretta_, Art thou sure ’twas he?

_Lor._ Madame, I liue not else.

_Le._ Thou do’st delude
My feares with fond impossibilities:
Prethee resolue me truly, I do long
Most infinitely.

_Lor._ Not a syllable more now,
And ’twould saue your life: not be-beleeu’d?

_Le._ Nay, sweet _Loretta_.
Troth, I doe beleeue thee.

_Lor._ Discredited?
I could fight with any liuing creature
In this quarrell ’tis so iust.

_Le._ Haue I deseru’d
No more respect, then to be trifled thus?
Come, prethee tell me.

_Lor._ Yes? to delude
Your feares with fond impossibilities?

_Le._ Nay, now thou tortur’st me.

_Lor._ Well, I haue done.
But leaue your sighes, your heigh-ho’s, and ay-me’s:
For I haue newes will warme you like the Sunne,
And make you open like the Marigold.

_Le._ Why, now thou rauish’st me.

_Lor._ I heard you not cry out yet.

_Le._ Thou takest such a delight in crossing me.

_Lor._ 'Faith, now you talke of Crosses, Ile tell you,
You haue chosen a Husband, so handsome, so complete,
As if he had beene pickt
Out of the Christ-Crosse row.

_Le._ As how, I prethee?

_Lor._ Why, Madame, thus:

Ile begin with A. and so proceed to the latter end of the Alphabet,
comparing his good parts as thus: for A. hee is Amiable, Bountifull,
Courteous, Diligent, Eloquent, Faithfull, Gracious, Humble, Iouiall,
Kind, Louing, Magnanimous, Noble, Patient, Quiet, Royall, Secret,
Trustie, Vigilant, Wittie, and Xceeding Youthfull. Now for Z, he’s
zealous: so I conclude, pray God hee bee not Iealous.

_Le._ An excellent obseruation.

_Lor._ Who doe you think’s in loue with you?
The old Dragon _Nicanor_, that watches the fruit of your _Hesperides_.

_Le._ Oh, that newes is stale.

_Lor._ He met but iust now, and would needs know,
What returne I had made of his Aduenture.
But I deuised such a Tale for my old Marchant,
Able to make a Bankrout at report,
But he notwithstanding fraughts me agen,
With that he was not able, but with this,
This Chaine of Pearle.

_Le._ Prethee, away with it, Ile not be chain’d to him.

_Lor._ Faith, and ’tis true, a Chaine is the worst Gift
A Louer can send his Mistris, ’tis such an Embleme
Of bondage hereafter. Who’s that?

_Enter_ LISANDRO.

_Le._ Father.

_Lis._ How fares my worthy Daughter?

_Le._ Eu’n as one
Deuoted vnto sorrow, griefe and mone.

_Lis._ Then I must blame you, Ladie, you doe ill,
To blast those Rosiall blossomes. Will you kill
This gift of Nature, Beautie in the prime?

_Le._ Father, I vnderstand not what you say:
The other day you talkt of Penitence,
Commended Patience, Sorrow and Contrition,
As Antidotes against the soules decay:
And now, me thinkes, you speake of no such thing.

_Lis._ Mistake me not, deare Daughter, I spake then,
Onely to mortifie the sinfull minde,
But now I come with comfort, to restore
Your fainting spirits that were grieu’d before:
But Daughter, I must chide you.

_Le._ Father, why?

_Lis._ For your neglect, and too much crueltie
To one that dearely loues you.

_Le._ Whom in the name of wonder?

_Lor._ On my life,
This Frier’s made an agent in my suit.

_Lis._ The hope of Sicill, Map of true Nobilitie,
Patterne of Wisdome, Grace and Grauitie.

_Le._ You prayse him highly, ha’s he ne’r a name?

_Lis._ Yes, is’t my Lord _Nicanor_.

_Le._ Oh, is’t he?
His gray head shewes his wisdomes grauitie:
And are you made his Agent,
His Aduocate, to play the spokesman? Fie.

_Lis._ Daughter, this is a worke of Charitie,
A holy action to combine in one:
Two different hearts in holy Vnion.

_Le._ Frier, no more.
I doe not like of these perswasions,
Either ya’re not the same you seeme to be,
Or all your Actions are Hypocrisie,
My Faith is past alreadie, and my heart
Ingag’d vnto a farre more worthy man:
_Lisandro_ is the Prince my loue hath wonne.

_Lis._ Then here the Frier concludes: my taske is done.

_Le._ _Lisandro_, my deare Loue!

_Lis._ The same, sweet Princesse.

_Le._ Oh, you were too aduentrous, dearest Loue,
What made you vndertake this hard attempt?

_Lis._ Your loue, sweet Lady,
That makes all things easie.

_Le._ Oh, I am made immortall with thy sight:
Here let me euer liue: I feare not now
The worst that Fate or Malice can afflict:
I haue enough, hauing thy companie.

_Lis._ And when I leaue to loue you, vertuous Madame,
Vpon that minute, let me leaue to liue,
That loue and life may both expire together.

_Lor._ Come, leaue your prating and protesting,
And get you both in, and be naught awhile.
’Tis dangerous talking here in publike,
Good Frier, look my Ladie dye no Nun. _Exit Le. & Lis._
Heigho! now could I wish my Sweet-heart
Heere too, I feele such a tickling, somewhere
About me: if he were here now, I would
Neuer cast such an vnwilling deniall vpon him
As I haue done, hauing so good a president as I haue.
But stay, who’s this?
As true as I liue, ’tis he.
Oh, sweet Rogue, thou art come
In the happiest minute.

_Enter_ SCANFARDO.

_Scan._ Am I, _Loretta_? Masse, I like that well.
What, all alone? I like that better too.
But where’s the Princesse?

_Lor._ Oh, she’s safe enough!

_Scan._ Is she indeed? I like that best of all.

_Lor._ And so do’s shee, I warrant yee,
Or any woman else, that’s in her Case: ha, ha, ha!

_Scan._ There’s something in the wind now, that you
laugh at.

_Lor._ Nothing indeed, sweet Loue: but ha, ha!
I laugh at an odde Iest.

_Scan._ Come, I must know’t.

_Lor._ 'Deed but you must not.

_Scan._ Why? Dare you not trust me?

_Lor._ Yes, I dare: but
As you are a man, reueale it not.

_Scan._ In troth, Ime angry, that you should mistrust me.

_Lor._ The Frier, the Frier: ha, ha, ha!
He that the Lord imploy’d to be his Agent,
Who doe you thinke it was?

_Scan._ Father _Anthonie_, wast not?

_Lor._ The Deuill it was: no faith,
It was, ha, ha, ha!
It was no other, then _Lisandro_ Prince of _Naples_,
That stole to my Lady in that Habit,
And guld your Lord most palpably.

_Scan._ Is’t possible?
And where are they now?

_Lor._ Why? faith th’are eu’n at,
Ha, ha, ha, ha!
But good Sweet-heart, be silent.

_Scan._ Not a syllable I: it was a bold attempt,
Knowing ’twas death, if but discouered once.
But come, Sweet-heart, weele eu’n doe,
As our betters haue done before vs,
The example is easly followed,
Hauing so good a Schoole-mistris.
Shall we to bed?

_Lor._ Fye, seruant, how you talke?
Troth you are to blame, to offer to assault
The chastitie of any Gentlewoman,
Vpon aduantage.

_Scan._ Pox, leaue this forc’d modesty: for by this hand,
I must enioy you now before we part.

_Lor._ I haue so farre ingag’d my selfe, you know,
’Tis now vaine to resist.

_Scan._ Why, now I like thee well.
Where shall we meet?

_Lor._ In the with-drawing Chamber, there I lye.

_Scan._ Goe then, Ile follow.

_Lor._ Ile put out the light.

_Scan._ No matter, I shall find the way i’ the darke.
Here was a strange discouerie but indeed,
What will not women blab to those they loue?
I am very loth to leaue my sport to night,
And yet more loth to lose that rich reward
My Lord will giue for this discouerie,
Chiefly to be reueng’d vpon his riuall:
Ile not forsake it, Venerie is sweet.
But he that has good store of gold and wealth,
May haue it at command, and not by stealth. _Exit._

_Enter_ Lisandro _and_ Leonida.

_Lis._ ’Tis late, deare Loue.

_Le._ You shall not part from me,
Good sooth, you shall not. Frier _Anthonie_,
You say, is faithfull: for _Loretta’s_ truth
I dare ingage my life.

_Lis._ Why, so you doe;
Should she proue false, both yours and mine, you know,
Are forfeit to the Law.

_Le._ You are secure.
Mistrust not then: true loue is void of feare.
No danger can afflict a constant mind.
This is no durance, no imprisonment,
Rather a Paradise in ioying thee:
My libertie alone consists in thee.

_Lis._ That is the reason, Ime so iealous, Sweet,
Since in my freedome both our liues remaine.
As for my selfe, what perill could be thought,
I would not vndergoe to gaine your loue?
Were it to scale the flaming Ætna’s top:
Whose sulphurous smoke kils with infection,
Cut through the Northerne Seas, or shoote the Gulfe?
Or——

_Le._ I doe beleeue thee, Sweet.

_Lis._ But yet this houre
Is not frequented by your Confessor, there lyes the danger.

_Le._ I ha’ confest to thee, from morne till night,
From night till morne againe, all my transgression.

_Enter_ Nicanor.

_Lis._ Were I your Confessor, I know you would
Both sinne, and be confest.

_Nic._ Breake ope the doore.

_Lis._ By Heauen, we are betrai’d.

_Le._ Oh my deare Loue.

_Lis._ My thoughts presag’d as much.
What shall we doe? _Enter_ Nicanor _and a Guard_.

_Le._ Do not resist, _Lisandro_, stand: the worst,
We can but dye.
Oh, this _Loretta_, false, inhumane wretch!

_Nic._ Lay hands vpon them both. Is’t so indeed?
Is this the zeale of your Confession?
I feare, death giues the absolution.

_Le._ Hence, doting Foole, more welcome far is death,
Then to bee linkt to Ages Leprosie. _Exeunt._

_Nic._ Beare vm away into their seuerall Wards.
Let them be guarded strongly, till such time
I shall acquaint my Soueraigne with this Plot.
Rather then lose the Royall Dignitie,
Ile striue to ruine a whole Progenie. _Exit._

Act. III.

_Enter_ ATTICVS, IAGO, NICANOR, _two Iudges_, _Notarie_, _and
Attendants_.

_Att._ How full of troubles is the state of Kings,
Abroad with Foes, at home, with faithlesse Friends,
Within with cares, without, a thousand feares?
Yet all summ’d vp together, doth not make
Such an impression in our troubled thoughts,
As this one Act of disobedience
In our owne Issue.

_Iag._ Gracious Soueraigne, yet for that high respect,
Be fauourable: she is your Daughter.

_1. Iud._ And the onely hope
Of all Sicilie, since _Lorenzo’s_ losse.

_Att._ Bring to the Barre the Prisoners: this offence
Hath lost in vs a Father and a Friend,
And cals for Iustice from vs, as a King:
Yet thinke not, Lords, but ’tis with griefe of mind,
Nor can a Father easly forget a Daughter,
Whom hee once so dearely lou’d:
Yet we had rather become Issulesse,
Then leaue it noted to Posteritie,
An Act of such Iniustice.

_2. Iud._ Yet, dread Liege,
Oh, doe not too much aggrauate the crime.
Rather impute it to their childish loue.

_Att._ To loue, my Lords? if that were lowable,
What Act so vile, but might be so excus’d?
The Murderer, that sheddeth guiltlesse bloud,
Might plead, it was for loue of his Reuenge,
The Felon likewise might excuse his theft,
With loue of money, and the Traytor too
Might say, It was for loue of Soueraigntie.
And indeed, all offenders so might plead. _A Barre._
Therefore, my Lords, you that sit here to Iudge,
Let all respect of persons be forgot,
And deale vprightly, that you may resemble
The highest Iudge, whose seat on Earth you hold:
And for you know, the Lawes of Sicilie
Forbid to punish two, for one offence,
Let your care be to find the principall,
The _Primus Motor_ that begun the cause;
For the effect (you see) is but the issue
That one of them may worthily receiue
Deserued death; the other, may be sent
(As lesse offending) into banishment. _Exit_ King.

_The Prisoners brought to the _Enter_ Lisandro, _and_ Leonida.
Barre by a Gard._

_1. Iudg._ Th’offence wherewith you both stand tax’d withall,
Appeares so manifest in grosse, that now
We need not question all particulars
In publique here: yet your triall shall
Be honourable, as your Persons were
Before this blacke Impression. Therefore say,
Which of you two begun th’occasion,
By any meanes, direct or indirect?
And answer truely, as you looke for grace.

_Lis._ ’Twas I, my honour’d Lords.

_Leo._ My Lords, ’twas I.

_Lis._ Let not this honourable Court be swaid
By false suggestions; that the fault was mine,
Appeares as manifest as mid-dayes Sunne,
’Twas I that first attempted, su’d, and prai’d,
Vs’d all the subtile engins Art could inuent,
Or Nature yeeld, to force affection,
Onely to gaine the royall Princesse loue;
For what can Women aboue weakenesse act?
Or, what Fort’s so strong, but yeelds at length
To a continued siege?
Th’attempt, I knew, was hard and dangerous:
Therefore more honourable in the conquest;
Which ere I would haue left, I would ha’ past
More dangers then ere _Iason_ vnder-went.
Then, since you see (my Lords) the guilt was mine,
Pardon the Princesse, Mee to death resigne.

_Leo._ Pardon (my Lords) _Lisandro_, let me dye:
If euer you’le performe an act of iustice
Shall make you truely famous, doe it here,
Here vpon me; the guilt alone is mine:
’Twas this alluring face, and tempting smiles,
That drew on his affections. Say that Hee
Did first commence the suit; the fault was mine
In yeelding to it: ’Tis a greater shame
For women to consent, then men to aske:
And yet, before he spoke, I had ingag’d
My heart and loue to him, vnask’d, vnpraid;
And then (you know) how soone our eyes discouers
The true affection that we beare our Louers:
Then since the guilt alone remaines in Mee,
Let me be iudg’d, and set _Lisandro_ free.

_2. Iudg._ This knot is intricate.

_Lis._ ’Tis fallacie.
Who can alledge one Article ’gainst her?
Th’offence was, breaking of the Kings command,
That none, on paine of death, should visit her,
Vnlesse appoynted by the King himselfe;
And that alone was mine: ’Twas my deuice;
I tooke the borrowed shape; I broke the Law,
And I must suffer for’t: Then doe not wrong
Her spotlesse Chastitie.

_4. Iudg._ How, Chastitie?

_Lis._ If any here conceiue her otherwise,
That very thought will damne him:
She’s as chaste
As ere your Mothers in their cradles were,
For any act committed.

_2. Iudg._ Harder still.

_1. Iudg._ A confused Labyrinth: we shal ne’r wind out.

_Leo._ My Lords, beleeue him not; the guilt lies here:
’Twas I that sent him that deluding shape,
In which he got admittance; The offence
Rests onely here: And therefore (good my Lords)
Let the condemning sentence passe on mee;
Or else, I will protest to all the world,
You are vniust;
And take my death vpon’t.

_Lis._ Fie, Madam, how you wrong your innocence!
And seeming (Lady) to be pittifull
To mee, you are most cruell; for my life
Should be a willing sacrifice to death,
To expiate the guilt of my offence.
Remember what continuall paines I tooke,
By messages, intreaties, gifts, and prayers,
To win your fauour, deare _Leonida_,
Iustice in this will be Impietie,
Vnlesse it here be shew’d. I beg it may.

_Leo._ I beg against him: He is innocent;
The fact alone was mine: I was the first,
The middle, and the end;
And Iustice here must end.
Or ’tis iniustice.

_Enter_ King.

_Attic._ Is the sentence giuen?

_2. Iudg._ Not yet, my Lord: We are as far to seeke,
In the true knowledge of the prime Offender,
As at the first; for they plead guilty both;
Both striue to aggrauate their owne offence,
And Both excuse each other. On our liues,
We cannot yet determine where’s the cause,

_Attic._ It is impossible
That sacred Iustice should be hudwink’t still,
Though she be falsly painted so; Her eyes
Are cleare, and so perspicuous, that no cryme
Can maske it selfe in any borrowed shape,
But shee’le discouer it. Let vm be returnd
Backe to their seuerall Wards, till we deuise
Some better course for the discouery.

_Nic._ Dread Soueraigne, I know no better way,
Then to assay by torture, to inforce
A free confession, seuerall, one from other:
For though they now, out of affection,
Plead their owne guilt, as if they feard not death;
Yet, when they feele him sting once, then the care
Of life, and safetie, will discouer all.

_Iag._ My Lord _Nicanor_, this is ill aduis’d,
Sauoring too much of force and tyrannie.
Is’t fit that Princes should subiect themselues
To any tortures, such as are prepared
For base Offendors? ’Tis ignobly done,
So to incense the King.

_Nic._ How, Sir!

_Iag._ Eu’n so:
You shew a proud aspiring mind, my Lord,
After a Kingdome, that would ruinate
Two royall Louers for so small a fact:
But, Marke my words, _Nicanor_; Ere the Crowne
Impale thy Temples by Her timelesse end,
Mine and fiue thousand liues shall all expire.

_Nic._ I wey thy words not this.

_Iag._ Nor I thy frowne;
I’le incense one, shall quickly pull you downe. _Exit._

_Attic._ How’s your opinion then,
To search it out?

_1. Iudg._ My Liege, we know no better way then this,
Let there be publique Proclamation made
Throughout the Kingdome, that there may be found
Two Aduocates, to plead this difference
In publique disputation, Man and Woman,
The wisest, and the best experienc’d
That can be found, or heard of in the Land;
Or any such will proffer of themselues
To vndertake the plea; For, questionlesse,
None are so impudent to vndergoe
So great a controuersie, except those
That know themselues sufficient.

_Attic._ Wee are pleas’d.
See it effected with all the speed you can:
The charge be yours, my Lord. Dissolue the Court. _Exeunt Om._

_Enter_ Iago _and_ Lorenzo, _disguised like an Amazon_.

_Lor._ Has my poore Sister then withstood a triall?

_Iag._ I, and behau’d her selfe
Most royall, and discreetly: Insomuch,
Shee put the Iudges to a non-plus, Sir;
Defending and excusing eythers cause,
Vntill _Nicanor_, with his kind aduice,
Desir’d the King they might be tortured,
To see if that would force confession.

_Lor._ Was he the onely Tyrant? Well, ere long
It may be in Our power to quittance him.
I’me glad I know the Serpents subtiltie.
But how concluded they?

_Iag._ I was so vext,
I could not stay a full conclusion.
The Prisoners were dismist before I came:
But how they did determine afterwards,
I long to heare. But what intends your Grace
In this disguise?

_Lor._ To visit the sicke Court,
And free my Sister from captiuitie,
With that good Prince _Lisandro_.

_Enter_ Misogynos _and_ Scanfardo.

_Mis._ A Woman!
Why the more I thinke of their wickednesse,
The more incomprehensible I find it;
For they are, coozening, cologuing, vngrateful, deceitful,
Wauering, waspish, light, toyish, proud, sullen,
Discourteous, cruell, vnconstant; and what not?
Yet, they were created, and by nature formed,
And therefore of all men to be auoyded.

_Lor._ Oh impious conclusion! What is hee?

_Iag._ I ne’r had conuersation with him yet;
But (by report) I’le tell you, He’s a man,
Who’s breeding has beene like the Scarrabee,
Altogether vpon the excrement of the time;
And being swolne with poysonous vapors,
He breakes wind in publique, to blast the
Reputation of all Women; His acquaintance
Has bin altogether amongst Whores and Bawds,
And therefore speakes but in’s owne element.
His owne vnworthie foule deformitie,
Because no Female can affect the same,
Begets in him despaire; and despaire, enuie.
He cares not to defame their very soules,
But that he’s of the Turkes opinion: They haue none.
He is the Viper, that not onely gnawes
Vpon his Mothers fame, but seekes to eat
Thorow all Womens reputations.

_Lor._ Is’t possible! that Sicilie should breed
Such a degenerate Monster, shame of men?

_Iag._ Blame not your Countrie, he’s an Englishman.

_Lor._ I will not see the glories of that Sexe
Be-spawld by such a dogged Humorist,
And passe vnpunisht.

_Iag._ What intends your Grace?

_Lor._ To vndertake this iust and honest quarrell,
In the defence of Vertue, till I haue
Seuerely punisht his opprobrious word,
Committed against Women, who’s iust fame
Merits an Angels Pen to register.

_Scan._ Sir, you haue alter’d me, I thanke you for’t.

_Mis._ Oh! they are all the very pits of Sin,
Which men, for want of wisdome, fall into.

_Scan._ I see it, Sir, and will proclaime as much. _Exit Scan._

_Lor._ Leaue me, _Iago_.

_Iag._ I’me gone, sweet Prince.

_Lor._ Tell me, thou iangling Mastiffe, with what feare
Dar’st thou behold that too much wronged Sex,
Whose Vertues thou hast basely slander’d?

_Mis._ Ha, ha, ha.