Chapter II: Part 2

_Lor._ Laugh’st thou, inhumane wretch? By my best hope,
But that thy malice hath deseru’d reuenge
More infamous, and publique, then to fall
By me in priuate, I would hew thy flesh
Smaller then Attomes.

_Mis._ What, haue we here
A Woman rampant? ha!
Tempt me not, Syren, lest thou dost inuoke
A Furie worse then Woman.

_Lor._ Hellish Fiend,
How dar’st thou vtter such blasphemous words,
In the contempt of Women, whose deserts
Thy dunghill basenesse neuer could discerne?
Assure thy selfe, thy malice shall be plagu’d
Seuerely, as in iustice thou deseru’st.

_Mis._ I wey not your threats this; spit out your poysons,
Till your gals doe burst, I will oppose you all;
I cannot flatter, I: nor will I fawne
To gaine a fauor; Prayse the hand and foot,
And sweare your face is Angel-like, and lye
Most grosly. No, I will not do’t.
But when I come, it shall be in a storme,
To terrifie you all, that you shall quake
To heare my name resounding in your eares:
And Fortune, if thou be’st a deitie,
Giue me but opportunitie, that I
May all the follies of your Sex declare,
That henceforth Men of Women may beware.

_Enter a Herald, with a Proclamation, a Trumpet before him, a great
rabble of men following him._

_Heral._ _Atticus_, King of Sicilia, to all his louing Subiects
sendeth greeting: Whereas there is a doubtfull question to be decided
in publique disputation, which concernes the honour of all men in
generall, that is to say, Whether the Man or the Woman in loue, stand
guilty of the greatest offence: Know therefore, if that any man, of
what estate or condition soeuer, will vndertake to defend the equitie
of men, against the false imputations of women, let vm repayre to the
Court, they shall be honourably entertayned, graciously admitted, and
well rewarded.

_God saue the King._

_Omnes._ Heauen preserue his Grace.

_Mis._ Fortune, I doe adore thee for this newes:
Why, here’s the thing I lookt for; ’tis a prize
Will make me euer famous. _Herald_, stay,
I will maintaine the Challenge, and approue
That women are first tempters vnto loue.
I’le blazon forth their colours in such sort,
Shall make their painted cheekes looke red, for vm
To haue them noted theirs, that all may know
That women onely are the cause of woe.

_Omnes._ A Champion, a Champion! _Exeunt._

_Enter a Woman with a Proclamation, and as many Women as may be, with
a Trumpet afore them._

_Lor._ _Aurelia_, Queene, by the especiall priuiledge of the Maiestie
of Sicilia, to all Ladies, gentle and others, of the Female Sex, sends
greeting: Whereas there is a question to be decided in publike
disputation before, an Honourable Assembly of both parts, that is,
whether the man or the woman in loue comit the greatest offence, by
giuing the first and principall occasion of sinning: therefore know,
that if any woman will vndertake to defend the innocency of women,
against the false imputations of detracting men, let her repaire to
the Court, shee shall bee honourably entertayned, graciously admitted,
and well rewarded. _God saue the Queene._

_Omnes._ Heauens preserue her.

_Lor._ I doe accept it, tis a cause so iust,
In equitie and vertue, in defence
Of wronged women, whose distressed fames
Lye buried in contempt, whose Champion
I doe professe my selfe, and doe desire
No greater glorie, then to haue that name.
What woman can indure to heare the Wrongs,
Slanders, Reproches, and base Forgeries,
That base men vaunt forth, to dimme the rayes
Of our weake tender Sex? But they shall know,
Themselues, not women, are the cause of woe.
A Champion, a Champion. _Exeunt Omnes._

_Enter_ Atticus, Misogynos, _two Iudges_, _Notarie_, _Cryer_, _and
Attendants_——_And then_ Lisandro, _and_ Hortensia _guarded_.

_Att._ That Equitie and Iustice both may meet,
In paralels, like to _Apollo’s_ Twinnes,
We haue ordayn’d this Session. In the which
Let all vnequall and impartiall thoughts
Be laid aside; with such regard of truth,
As not the name of Daughter, or the Bloud
Which we call ours, running in her veines,
May any way diuert vs. Therefore goe on,
And take your seat, stout Champion, and preuaile,
As is the truth you deale for, in this doubtfull,
And much ambiguous businesse.

_Mis._ So I wish—— _Passe to his seat with Trumpets._

_Enter to them_ Aurelia, _leading_ Atlanta, Loretta, _and two or three
more women_.

_Aur._ Braue Amazonian beautie, learned _Atlanta_,
Now is it time your intellectuall powers,
Of wit and iudgement shou’d aduance themselues
Against the forked tongues of Slanderers,
That pierce the spotlesse innocence of women,
And poyson sweetnesse with the breath of Malice.
So on, and take thy seat! It is our trust,
Th’euent will prosper, for our cause is iust.

_Atlan._ That makes me confident—— _Passe to the seat._

_Att._ Prepare the Court.

_Cry._ O yes! O yes! O yes! If there be any man——or woman——in this
Honourable Court——that can produce——any lawfull cause——against either
of the Aduocates——why they should not bee admitted——Let them now
speake, or for euer hereafter hold their peace——

_Att._ ’Tis well. Now sweare the Iudges.

_Not._ Yee shall sweare by the sacred hand of _Atticus_, not to
respect the person of either of the Offendors: but iustly and truly to
waigh and ballance the Reasons and Arguments of the deputed Aduocates,
and thereupon to determine and proceed in iudgement, according to the
Lawes of this Iland, as you tender the pleasure of Royall _Atticus_.

_Both Iudg._ To this we freely sweare.

_Att._ Now then, to your Arguments.

_Aur._ _Atlanta_, for poore innocent women.

_Att._ _Misogynos_ for the men.

_Atlan._ It is an honour farre beyond my weaknesse,
(Most equall Iudges) that I am accepted,
I but a woman, before men to plead,
Dumbe feare and bashfulnesse to speake before
Bold Orators of State, men graue and wise,
That can at euery breathing pause, correct
The slipp’ry passages of a womans speech:
But yet withall my hopes are doubly arm’d.

_1. Iudg._ How doubly arm’d?

_2. Iudg._ Presume not more then Reason.

_Atlan._ First, that my bashfull weaknesse claymes excuse,
And is to speake before such temp’rate Iudges,
Who in their wisdome will, no doubt, conniue
At small defects in me a silly woman.

_1. Law._ Smoothly put on.

_2. Law._ A quaint insinuation.

_Atlan._ Next, that the cause I handle, is so iust,
And full of truth, as were corruption seated
Vpon your hearts (as who can euer doubt
Wisdome shou’d so decline) I wou’d not feare,
But that my pregnant Reasons soone shou’d purge,
And clense your secret bosomes from vntruth.

_1. Law._ A promising _Exordium_.

_2. Law._ The successe is all.

_Atlan._ I need not tell you what I come to prooue:
That rayling Woman-hater hath alreadie
With his foule breath belcht forth into the Ayre,
The shamelesse cause in question, and doth charge
The supple wax, the courteous natur’d woman,
As blamefull for receiuing the impression
Of Iron hearted man, in whom is grauen,
With curious and deceiuing Art, foule shapes
And stamps of much abhord impietie.
Wou’d any man, once hauing fixt his Seale
To any Deed, though after he repent
The Fact so done, rayle at the supple Wax,
As though that were the cause of his vndoing?
O idle leuitie! Wax hath’s vse,
And woman easly beares the mans abuse.

_1. Law._ Here’s a by-blow.

_2. Law._ How can my Fencer ward it?
Stay: he comes on.

_Mis._ Hum. Doe you wax vpon me? as if man
Once hauing fixt the Seale of Armes of loue,
On waxen-harted woman, though another
Came after him, and did adulterate
The stampe imprinted on her, she, forsooth,
Must still be held excus’d. ’Tis weake, and fond,
And woman-like: you flye on waxen wings,
That melt against the Sunne. Therefore attend,
And I will proue vnto this honour’d Court,
In all their passions women are impetuous,
And beyond men, ten times more violent.

_Atlan._ I grant you that. But who begins the motion,
And is first agent? for as I conceiue,
That’s the cause in question.

_Mis._ Deluding woman.

_Atlan._ Flattring and periur’d man.

_Mis._ Did not th’inticing beautie of a woman,
Set Troy on fire?

_Atlan._ Did not man first begin
To tempt that beautie with the fire of lust?

_Mis._ Beautie first tempts to lust.

_Atlan._ Lust tempteth Beautie:
Witnesse the vowes, the oaths, the protestations,
And Crocodile teares of base dissembling men,
To winne their shamelesse purpose: Whereof missing,
Then but obserue their Gifts, their Messages,
Their wanton Letters, and their amorous Sonnets,
Whereby they vent the smoke of their affections,
Readie to blind poore women, and put out
The Eye of Reason. But if still they faile,
Then come they on with vndermining cunning,
And with our Maides, our Pages and Attendants,
Corruptly worke and make insinuation,
Whilst they at hand with fained languishment,
Make shew as if they meant to dye for loue,
When they but swelter in the reeke of Lust.
But heere’s not all: for if this all preuaile not,
Then are they vp againe, and with pale cheekes,
Like some poore Starueling, or some Mimick Ghost,
They stalke into the presence of their Mistris,
Fold vp their armes, hang downe their wanton heads,
Cast loue-sicke glances, and as wofull Comma’s,
In this dumbe Oratorie, now and then they breathe
A passionate sigh, whereat the gentle nature
Of milde compassionate woman once relenting,
Straight they fall out into such sweet complaints
Of their sad suffrings, tuning words of Art,
Able to melt a gentle Eye in teares,
As they doe speake. Then with officious dutie,
They licke a Moat off from her vpper garment,
Dust her curl’d Ruffe with their too busie fingers,
As if some dust were there: and many toyes
They vse to please, till side by side they ioyne,
And palme with palme supplies the amorous heart,
To pay a wanton kisse on Loues faire lips,
And then the Prize is wonne. Iudge therefore, Lords,
Whether the guilt doth lye on vs or them,
And as your Wisdomes find, saue or condemne.

_A Plaudite by the women, with shouts, crying_, Atlanta, Atlanta,
Atlanta!

_Lisan._ Truth hath she said in all.

_Hort._ O, but the Art of Woman——

_1. Iud._ Silence! you haue no voice in Court.

_2. Iud._ You haue your Aduocates, therefore must not speake.

_1. Law._ These Allegations are vnanswerable.

_2. Law._ The Court must needs allow them.

_Mis._ Bragge not too fast! for all this glorious speech,
Is but a painted Pageant, made to vsher
Some homely Scauenger, and is borne vp,
Vpon the backes of Porters. It wants true worth,
To carrie State, and vsher learned Iudgement
Into this Court. For what a foolish reason,
Is it to say, Lust tempteth garish Beautie,
Because men court their wanton Mistresses,
In sundry formes of Complement? There’s not
A Citie Tradesman throughout all the Streets,
From the East Chappell, to the Westerne Palace,
But knowes full well the garish setting out
Of Beautie in their shops, will call in Customers
To cheapen ware: Beautie set forth to sale,
Wantons the bloud, and is mans tempting Stale.

_1. Law._ How boldly he comes on?

_2. Law._ But marke his reasons.

_Mis._ And this is woman, who well knowes her strength,
And trimmes her Beautie forth in blushing Pride,
To draw as doth the wanton Morning Sunne,
The eyes of men to gaze. But marke their natures,
And from their Cradles you shall see them take
Delight in making Babies, deuising Christnings,
Bidding of Gossips, calling to Vp-sittings,
And then to Festiuals, and solemne Churchings,
In imitation of the wanton ends,
Their riper yeeres will ayme at. But goe further,
And looke vpon the very Mother of Mischiefe,
Who as her Daughters ripen, and doe bud
Their youthfull Spring, straight she instructs them how
To set a glosse on Beautie, adde a lustre
To the defects of Nature, how to vse
The mysterie of Painting, Curling, Powdring,
And with strange Periwigs, pin knots, Bordrings,
To deck them vp like to a Vintners Bush,
For men to gaze at on a Midsummer Night,

_1. Law._ The tyde begins to turne.

_2. Law._ Women goe downe.

_Mis._ This done, they are instructed by like Art,
How to giue entertainment, and keepe distance
With all their Sutors, Friends, and Fauourites,
When to deny, and when to feed their hopes,
Now to draw on, and then againe put off,
To frowne and smile, to weepe and laugh out-right,
All in a breath, and all to trayne poore man
Into his ruine: Nay, by Art they know
How to forme all their gesture, how to adde
A _Venus_ Mole on euery wanton cheeke,
To make a gracefull dimple when she laughes:
And (if her teeth be bad) to lispe and simper,
Thereby to hide that imperfection:
And these once learn’d, what wants the Tempter now,
To snare the stoutest Champion of men?
Therefore, graue Iudges, let me thus conclude:
Man tempts not woman, woman doth him delude.

_A Plaudite by the Men with shouts, crying_, Misogynos, Misogynos,
Misogynos!

_1. Law._ Women, looke to’t, the Fencer giues you a veney.

_2. Law._ Beleeue it, he hits home.

_Mis._ Nay, I wou’d speake.
What Tyrannies, Oppressions, Massacres,
Women stand guiltie of: and which is more,
What Cities haue beene sackt and ruinate,
Kingdomes subuerted, Lands depopulated,
Monarchies ended? and all these by women.

_Atlan._ Base snarling Dogge, bite out thy slandrous tongue,
And spit it in the face of Innocence,
That at once all thy rancour may haue end:
And doe not still opprobriously condemne
Woman that bred thee, who in nothing more
Is guiltie of dishonour to her Sex:
But that she hath brought forth so base a Viper,
To teare her reputation in his teeth,
As thou hast done.

_Mis._ O doe not scold, good woman!

_1. Iud._ Goe to the purpose.

_Atlan._ I forgot my selfe:
Therefore, graue Iudges, let this base Impostor
Tell me one man that euer gaue his life,
To keepe his vow safe and inuiolate,
Against the assaults of Lust: and for that one,
He find a thousand women, that to keepe
Their Chastities and Honours vndefil’d,
Haue laid their liues downe at base Tyrants feet.

_A Plaudite by Women, crying_, Atlanta, Atlanta, Atlanta!

_1. Law._ This is but a flourish.

_2. Law._ The Fencers Schoole-play beares it.

_Mis._ What hath beene is not now: The Kalender
Of Women Saints is fild vp long agoe:
For now a vniuersall leprosie,
Like to an Inundation, ouer-flowes,
And breakes vpon you all: scarce one is free
From wanton lightnesse and vaine leuitie.

_Atlan._ None like to _Nero_, and _Heliogabulus_.

_Mis._ Yes, wanton _Hellen_ and _Cleopatra_.

_Atlan._ I cou’d name more.

_Mis._ I, ten for one, of Women.

_Atlan._ Sense-pleasing _Sardanapalus_ is beyond
All Women that can be nam’d.

_Mis._ Ile name you one
Beyond all Men, th’insatiate _Messalina_:
Who when she had to satisfie her lust,
Imbrac’d the change of Louers, and was weakened
So farre, she could no longer hold it out:
And being askt if then she were satisfied,
She answerered, No: for though she then were tyr’d,
No change could satisfie her appetite.

_A Plaudite by the Men, crying_, Misogynos, Misogynos, Misogynos.

_Atlan._ O monstrous impietie!

_Aur._ Stop the Detractors mouth: Away with him.

_Women._ Teare him in pieces.

_Not._ Silence in the Court.

_Attic._ It is enough: my Lords, proceed to iudgement;
And lead away _Misogynos_ to his Chamber.

_The two Lawyers lead_ Misogynos _away_.

_1. Iudge._ Read the decree.

_Not._ We the sworne Iudges of this present Court,
In equall ballance hauing weigh’d the reasons,
And allegations of both Aduocates,
In their late Declamations, doe adiudge,
And here conclude that——

_Attic._ Read out.

_Not._ That women are the first and worst temptations
To loue and lustfull folly: and to this
We are here present, ready to subscribe.

_Atlan._ You are impartiall, and we doe appeale
From you to Iudges more indifferent:
You are all men, and in this weightie businesse,
Graue Women should haue sate as Iudges with you.

_Aur._ ’Tis true, ’tis true: Let vs haue iustice.

_Attic._ It is decreed already; attend the iudgement.

_Aur._ Yet at the last let your _Aurelia_ kneele,
And for the Ofspring of your loynes and mine,
Begge fauour.

_Attic._ Peace.

_Aur._ You alwayes haue bin iust
In other causes; Will you in your owne
Be so vniust, seuere, nay tyrannous?
The very Beasts, by naturall instinct,
Preserue their issue; and will you be then,
More cruell and vnnaturall then they?

_Attic._ Arise; and know, A King is like a Starre,
By which each Subiect, as a Mariner,
Must steere his course. Iustice in Vs is ample,
From whom Inferiors will deriue example.

_Aur._ Oh, be not so obdurate!

_Attic._ I’le heare no more.

_Atlan._ Yet, gracious Sir, for my indeuouring paines,
(Though fruitlesse now) let mee (a Stranger) beg
One boone——

_Attic._ But not the freedome of _Leonida_.

_Atlan._ Since she must die; I beg she may not basely
Be hurried forth amongst vnciuill men;
But that your Queene, and I, and some few others,
With any one of your attendant Lords,
May see her execution.

_Attic._ Take your desire.

_Leo._ The blessed Heauens be thankfull to _Atlanta_.

_Lis._ And crowne her with all blessings.

_Attic._ Take my thanks too. And now, my Lords, proceed,
And giue your finall censure.

_Exit Attic._

_Cornets, a flourish._

_Au._ Come, _Atlanta_, come;
Teares fill mine eyes, and Griefe doth strike me dumbe.

_Exit Aur. Atlan. and all the Women._

_1. Iudge._ _Leonida_, By the iudgement of this Court,
You are found guiltie as the Principall,
In the offence committed; for which, we doome you
(According to the Lawes of this our Iland)
To lose your Head.

_2. Iudge._ And you withall, _Lisandro_,
By the like Law, must within fifteene daies,
Betake you to perpetuall banishment.

_Leo._ Welcome, sweet death.

_Lis._ Nothing can expiate
The Kings seuere Decree, and Her Hard fate. _Exeunt._

ACT. IIII.

_Enter_ Iago _and_ Sforza, _seuerall_.

_Sfor._ Health to your Honour.

_Iag._ Noble _Sforza_, thankes.

_Sfor._ Haue you not heard the newes?

_Iag._ Of what, my Lord?

_Sfor._ _Lisandro_, and the Princesse.

_Iag._ Not as yet.

_Sfor._ Then I’le resolue you.

_Iag._ Pray you doe, my Lord.

_Sfor._ The Aduocates both vsed their vtmost skill,
To iustifie and quit the Sex they stood for,
With arguments, and reasons so profound
On eyther side, that it was hard to say,
Which way the scale of Iustice would incline.

_Iag._ I ioy to heare it; And to say the truth,
Both Sexes equally should beare the blame;
For both offend alike. But pray’ proceed.

_Sfor._ At length, the Aduocate that stood for vs,
Preuail’d so farre, with his forc’d Oratorie,
The Lord _Nicanor_ too, abetting him,
That maugre all the Amazonians wit,
Which was (indeed) beyond expression,
The sentence past against the female Sex;
And the poore Princesse is adiudg’d to death.

_Iag._ The Heauens forbid! The Princesse doom’d to die?

_Sfor._ Too true, my Lord: I heard the words pronounc’d.

_Iag._ A sentence most vniust, and tyrannous.
Where’s the Detractor?

_Sfor._ Crown’d with Victorie,
And intertain’d with Triumph.

_Iag._ That iust Heauen
Should suffer such an impious wretch to live!
I must goe looke the Princesse; when must she dye?

_Sfor._ To morrow’s Sun beholds a daughters fall.

_Iag._ A Sunne must rise to night, to dimme that Sunne,
From the beholding such a horrid deed.
’Twas cruell in a King, for such a fact;
But in a Father, it is tyrannie.

_Enter_ Misogynos.

_Sfor._ Forbeare, my Lord, the times are dangerous.
See! here’s the Champion.

_Iag._ Looke how the Slaue glories in his conquest,
How insolent he stalkes!
Shall we indure such saucie impudence?

_Sfor._ Put vp, put vp, my Lord,
He is not worth our indignation:
Let vs a-while obserue him for some sport.

_Enter_ Scanfardoe.

_Scan._ My noble Fencer, I congratulate
Your braue atchieuements in the last dayes triumph.

_Mis._ I thanke you, Scholler. Was’t not brauely done?

_Scanf._ Done like thy selfe: the spirits of _Mantua_
And old _Diogenes_ doubled in thee.

_Mis._ I thinke, I haue giuen
The Female reputation such a wound,
Will not be cured in haste.

_Enter two Gentlemen._

_Iag._ Ha, ha, ha, ha; Pernicious slaue.

_1. Gent._ Worthie _Misogynos_.

_2. Gent._ Noble Champion,
We doe applaud
Your merit, in the report
Of your late conquest.

_Mis._ Thanke you, Gentlemen
Truth will preuaile, you see.
I speake not for my selfe, in my owne quarrel;
But the generall good of all men in the world.

_1. Gent._ We know it, Sir.

_Iag._ Degenerate Monster, how he iustifies
His slandrous forgeries?

_Mis._ But, Gentlemen,
How goes the rumour?
What do’s the Multitude report of mee?

_1. Gent._ Oh Sir, the Men applaud you infinitely;
But the Women——

_Mis._ I respect not them:
Their curses are my prayers.

_Iag._ Oh damn’d Rogue!

_1. Gent._ If you’le be rul’d by me, go shew your selfe
Amongst them all in publique: O 'twill fret
Their very galls in pieces.

_Iag._ That was well.
Some body second that, and we shall see
Excellent pastime; for they’le ne’r indure
His sight with any patience.

_Scanf._ Doe i’faith
That they may see you haue conquer’d.

_Mis._ And I will.
But should they grow outragious—

_2. Gent._ Feare not that: we’le all along with ye.

_Mis._ Will you conduct me safe vnto my Schoole?

_Scan._ I, I, we’le be your Gard. _Exeunt._

_Sfor._ Oh what a Coward ’tis?

_Iag._ You doe him wrong:
He fights not with his hands, but with his tongue.
Why doe I trifle time? I’le to the Court;
This crueltie afflicts my very soule.
Good my Lord, ioyne with me; we’le to the King,
And see if wee can alter this decree.
Oh ’tis a royall Princesse, faire, and chaste!

_Sfor._ But her disdaine, my Lord, hath bin the cause
Of many hopefull Youths vntimely end;
’Tis that has harden’d both the Commons hearts,
And many a noble Peeres,

_Iag._ Why, what of that?
It is not fit affection should be forc’d:
Let’s kneele vnto his Grace for her release.
Iustice (like Lightning) euer should appeare
To few mens ruine, but to all mens feare. _Exit._

SCEN. II.

_Enter_ NICANOR, _and a Gentleman_.

_Nic._ The Princesse suffers then?

_Gent._ This Morning, Sir,
Vnlesse the mercie of the King be found
More then is yet expected.

_Nic._ Oh my heart,
Canst thou indure to heare that heauie sound,
And wilt not burst with griefe?

_Gent._ Nay, good my Lord:

_Nic._ Oh, worthie Sir, you did not know the ioyes
That we all lost in her. She was the hope,
And onely comfort of Sicilia;
And the last Branch was left of that faire stocke;
Which (if she dye) is wither’d, quite decay’d.
But I haue such a losse.

_Gent._ You haue indeed:
Yours is the greatest of a particular:
For you haue lost a beautious Spouse, my Lord;
And yet the rich hopes of a royall Crowne
Might mitigate your sorrow. You are next.

_Nic._ Doe not renew my griefe with naming that.
Oh that it were to morrow! happie day,
Bestow’d on some more meritorious,
That might continue long, for I am old.
I should be well content.

_Gent._ Say not so:
There’s no one merits that more then your selfe:
You are elected by the Kings owne house,
And generall consent of all the Realme,
For the Successour after his decease:
Whose life pray Heauen defend.

_Nic._ Amen, Amen,
And send him long to raigne; but not on earth.
Sir, you are neere the King; Pray, if you heare
His Highnesse aske for me, excuse me, Sir:
You see my sorrow’s such, I am vnfit
To come into the presence of a King.

_Gent._ I see it, Sir, and will report as much.

_Nic._ You will report a lye then; ha, ha, ha.
My Lungs will not afford me wind enough
To laugh my passions out. To gaine a Crowne,
Who would not at a funerall laugh and sing?
All men of wisedome would, and so will I:
Yet to the worlds eye, I am drown’d in teares,
And held most carefull of the King and State,
When I meane nothing lesse. _Lorenzo’s_ dead:
The scornefull Princesse, that refus’d my loue,
Is going to her death. The King, I know,
Cannot continue long: Then may I say,
As our Italian heires at fathers deaths,
_Quid Iude, Reine ta soll_.
The King alone made mee the King:
Me thinkes I feele the royall Diadem
Vpon my head already; ha, ha, ha. _Exit._

_A dumbe shew._

_Enter two Mourners_, Atlanta _with the Axe_, Leonida _all in white,
her haire loose, hung with ribans; supported on eyther side by two
Ladies_, Aurelia _following as chiefe Mourner. Pase softly ouer the
stage._

_A Song in parts._

_Whilst wee sing the dolefull knell
Of this Princesse passing-bell,
Let the Woods and Valleys ring
Ecchoes to our sorrowing;
And the Tenor of their Song,
Be ding dong, ding, dong, dong,
ding, dong, dong,
ding, dong._

_Nature now shall boast no more,
Of the riches of her Store,
Since in this her chiefest prize,
All the Stocke of beautie dies;
Then, what cruell heart can long
Forbeare to sing this sad ding dong?
This sad ding dong,
ding dong._

_Fawnes and Siluans of the Woods,
Nimphes that haunt the Cristall flouds,
Sauage Beasts more milder then
The vnrelenting hearts of men,
Be partakers of our mone,
And with vs sing ding dong, ding dong,
ding dong, dong,
ding dong._

_Exeunt Omnes._

_Enter_ Misogynos, _and_ Swash.

_Mis._ _Swash._

_Swa._ At your Buckler, Sir?

_Mis._ Perceiu’st thou nothing, _Swash_?

_Swa._ How meane you, Sir?

_Mis._ No strange signe of alteration; hum.

_Swa._ Beyond imagination.

_Mis._ How, good _Swash_?

_Swa._ Why, from a Fencer, you’re turn’d Orator.

_Mis._ Oh! _Cedunt arma Togæ_; that’s no wonder.
Perceiu’st thou nothing else? Looke I not pale?
Are not my armes infolded? my eyes fixt,
My head deiected, my words passionate,
And yet perceiu’st thou nothing?

_Swash._ Let me see, me thinkes, you looke Sir, like some
Desperate Gamester, that had lost all his estate
In a dicing House: you met not
With those Money-changers, did you?
Or haue you falne amongst the female Sex,
And they haue paid you for your last dayes worke?

_Mis._ No, no, thou art as wide, as short in my disease:
Thou neuer canst imagine what it is,
Vnlesse, I tell thee. _Swash_, I am in loue.

_Swash._ Ha, ha, ha, in loue?

_Mis._ Nay, ’tis such a wonder, _Swash_, I scarce beleeue,
It can be so, my selfe, and yet it is.

_Swash._ The Deuill it is as soone, and sooner too:
You loue the Deuill, better then a woman.

_Mis._ Oh, doe not say so, _Swash_, I doe recant.

_Swash._ In loue? not possible:
This is some tempting Syren has bewitcht you.

_Mis._ Oh! peace, good _Swash_.

_Swash._ Some Cockatrice, the very Curse of man?

_Mis._ No more, if thou dost loue me.

_Swash._ Your owne words.
I know not how to please you better, Sir.
Will you from Oratour, turne Heretike,
And sinne against your owne Conscience?

_Mis._ Oh, _Swash, Swash_!
_Cupid_, the little Fencer playd his Prize,
At seuerall weapons in _Atlanta’s_ eyes,
He challeng’d me, we met and both did try
His vtmost skill, to get the Victorie.
Lookes were oppos’d ’gainst lookes, and stead of words,
Were banded frowne ’gainst frowne, and words ’gainst words
But cunning _Cupid_ forecast me to recoile:
For when he plaid at sharpe, I had the foyle.

_Swash._ Nay, now he is in loue, I see it plaine:
I was inspir’d with this Poeticall vaine,
When I fell first in loue: God bo’y yee, Sir:
I must goe looke another Master.

_Mis._ _Swash._

_Swash._ Y’are a dead man: beleeue it, Sir,
I would not giue two-pence for a Lease
Of a hundred pound a yeere made for your life.
Can you that haue bin at defiance with vm all,
Abused, arraigned vm, hang’d vm, if you could:
You hang’d vm more then halfe, you tooke away
All their good names, I’me sure, can you then hope,
That any will loue you? A Ladie, Sir,
Will sooner meet a Tinker in the street,
And try what Metall lyes within his Budget,
A Countesse lye with me, an Emperour
Take a poore Milke-maide, Sir, to be his Wife,
Before a Kitchen-Wench will fancie you.

_Mis._ Doe not torment me, misbeleeuing Dolt,
I tell thee, I doe loue, and must enioy.

_Swash._ Who, in the name of women, should this bee?

_Mis._ What an obtuse Conception do’st thou beare?
Did not I tell thee, ’twas _Atlanta, Swash_?

_Swash._ Who, she Amazonian Dame, your Aduocate,
A Masculine Feminine?

_Mis._ I, _Swash_,
She must be more then Female, has the power
To mollifie the temper of my Loue.

_Swash._ Why, she’s the greatest enemie you haue.

_Mis._ The greater is my glorie, _Swash_, in that
That hauing vanquisht all, I attaine her.
The Prize consists alone
In my eternall credit and renowne.
Oh, what a Race of wittie Oratours
Shall we beget betwixt vs: Come, good _Swash_,
Ile write a Letter to her presently,
Which thou shalt carry: if thou speedst, I sweare,
Thou shalt be _Swetnams_ Heire.

_Swash._ The Deuill I feare,
Will dispossesse me of that Heritage.

_Enter two Gentlemen._

_1. Gent._ But are you sure she is beheaded, Sir?

_2. Gent._ Most certaine, Sir, both by the Kings Decree,
And generall voyce of all, for instance see.

_1. Gent._ The wofull’st sight.
That ere mine eyes beheld.

_2. Gent._ A sight of griefe and horrour.

_1. Gent._ It is a piece of the extremest Iustice
That euer Memory can Register.

_2. Gent._ I, in a Father.

_1. Gent._ Oh, I pray forbeare,
The time is full of danger euery-where. _Exeunt._

_Enter_ Lisander, _and the Guard_.

_Lis._ Good gentle friends, before I leaue the Land,
Suffer me to take my last fare-well
Of my owne dearest deare _Leonida_.
Accept this poore reward: would time permit.
I would more largely recompence your loues.

_1. Gua._ You haue preuail’d, my Lord, but pray bee briefe.
We are inioyn’d by strict Commission,
To see you shipt away this present tyde.

_Lis._ Indeed, I will.

_1. Gua._ Then here you may behold,
All that is left of faire _Leonida_.

_Lis._ Oh——

_2. Gua._ How fare you, Sir.

_Lis._ Oh, Gentlemen,
Can you behold this sacred Cabinet,
Which Nature once had made her Treasurie?
But now broke ope by sacrilegious hands,
And not let fall a teare: you are vnkind.
Not Marble but would wet at such a sight,
And cannot you, strange stupiditie!
Thou meere Relike of my dearest Saint!
Vpon this Altar I will sacrifice
This Offering to appeaze thy murd’red Ghost.

_1. Gua._ Restraine, my Lord, this Passion, we lament
As much as you, and grieue vnfaynedly
For her vntimely losse.

_Lis._ As much as I? Oh, ’tis not possible.
You temporize with sorrow: mine’s sincere,
Which I will manifest to all the World.
See what a beauteous forme she yet retaynes,
In the despight of Fate, that men may see,
Death could not seize but on her mortall parts:
Her beautie was diuine and heauenly.

_1. Gua._ Nay, good my Lord, dispatch, the time’s but short.

_Lis._ Indeed, I will, to make an end of time:
For I can liue no longer, since that she,
For whose sake onely, I held truce with time,
Hath left me desolate: no, diuinest loue,
What liuing was deny’d vs, weele enioy
In Immortalitie, where no Crueltie,
Vnder the forme of Iustice, dare appeare.
Sweet sacred Spirit, make not too much haste
To the Elizian Fields, stay but awhile,
And I will follow thee with swifter speed,
Then meditation: thus I seale my vow. _Kisses._
Me thinkes, I feele fresh heat, as if her soule
Had resum’d her former seate agen,
To solemnize this blessed Vnion,
In our last consummation, or else it stayes,
Awayting onely for my companie:
It does, indeed, and I haue done thee wrong,
To let thy heauenly eyes want me so long,
But now I come, deare Loue, Oh, oh!

_1. Gua._ What sound was that?

_2. Gua._ Oh, we are all vndone,
The Prince has slaine himselfe: what shall we doe?

_1. Gua._ There is no way but one, let’s leaue the Land,
If we stay heere, we shall be sure to dye,
And suffer for our too much lenitie,
Though we are innocent.

_2. Gua._ Then haste away:
The doome weele execute vpon our selues,
And ship with speed for Holland, there, no doubt,
We shall haue entertaynment,
There are warres threatned betwixt Spaine and them.

_1. Gua._ Then let vs hoyse vp sayle, mercy receiue
Thy soule to Heauen, Earth to Earth we leaue. _Exeunt._

_Enter_ Atlanta.

_Atlan._ What spectacle is this? A man new slaine,
Close by the Princes Herse! Who is’t? Oh, me,
The Noble Prince _Lisandro_. Cruell Fate,
Is there no hope of life? See, he looks vp,
Ile beare him out of the ayre, and stop his wound:
If there be any hope, I haue a Balme
Of knowne experience, in effecting cures
Almost impossible, and if the wound
Be not too deadly, will recouer him. _Exit Lorenzo._

_Enter_ Aurelia _and_ Iago.

_Iag._ Deare Queene, haue patience.

_Aur._ How, _Iago_, patience?
Tis such a sinne, that were I guiltie of,
I should despayre of mercie. Can a Mother
Haue all the blessings both of Heauen and Earth,
The hopefull issue of a thousand soules
Extinct in one, and yet haue patience?
I wonder patient Heauen beares so long,
And not send thunder to destroy the Land.
The Earth, me thinkes, should vomit sulph’rous Damps,
To stifle and annoy both man and beast,
Seditious Hell should send blacke Furies forth.
To terrifie the hearts of tyrant Kings.
What say the people? doe they not exclaime,
And curse the seruile yoke, in which th’are bound.
Vnder so mercilesse a Gouernour?

_Iag._ Madame, in euery mouth is heard to sound.
Nothing but murmurings and priuate whispers,
Tending to seuerall ends: but all conclude,
The King was too seuere for such a Fact.

_Enter_ Atlanta.

_Aur._ _Atlanta_, welcome, Oh my child, my child.
There lies the summe of all my miserie!

_Atl._ Gracious Madame, doe but heare me speake.

_Aur._ _Atlanta_, I should wrong thy merit else.
What wouldst thou say?
Something I know, to mitigate my griefe.

_Atl._ Rather to adde to your afflictions,
I am the Messenger of heauie Newes.
_Lisandro_, Prince of Naples,

_Aur._ What of him?

_Atl._ Beholding the sad obiect of his loue,
His violent passion draue him to despayre,
And he hath slaine himselfe.

_Iag._ Disastrous chance!

_Atl._ I found him gasping for his latest breath,
And bore him to my Lord _Iago’s_ house,
I vs’d my best of skill to saue his life:
But all, I feare, in vaine: the mortall wound
I find incurable: yet I prolong’d
His life a little, that he yet drawes breath:
Goe you and visit him with vtmost speed:
The Queene and I will follow.

_Iag._ Goe? Ile runne. _Exit Iago._

_Aur._ Was euer Father so vnmercifull,
But for that Monster that was cause of this,
That bloudie, cruell, and inhumane wretch,
That slanderous Detractor of our Sex:
That _Misogynos_, that blasphemous Slaue?
I will be so reueng’d.

_Enter Clowne._

_Atlan._ Madame, no more,
He is not worth your wrath:
Let me alone with him.

_Clow._ Whist, doe you heare?

_Atlan._ How now, what art thou?

_Clow._ Not your Seruant, and yet a Messenger,
No Seruingman, and yet an Vsher too.

_Atlan._ What are you then, Sir? speake.

_Clow._ That can resolue you, and yet cannot speake,
I am no Foole, I am a Fencer, Sir.

_Aur._ A Fencer, sirrah? ha, what Countrey-man?

_Clow._ This Countrey-man, forsooth, but yet borne in
England.

_Aur._ How? borne in England, & this Countrey-man?

_Clow._ I haue bin borne in many Countreyes, Madame,
But I thinke I am best be this Countrey-man,
For many take me for a silly one.

_Aur._ For a silly one?

_Clow._ I, a silly one.

_Atlan._ Oh, Madame, I haue such welcomenesse!

_Aur._ For me, what is’t?

_Atlan._ The baytes of women haue preuented vs,
And hee has intrapt himselfe.

_Aur._ How, by what accident?

_Atlan._ Loue, Madame, loue, read that.

_Aur._ How’s this?
To the most wise and vertuous Amazon,
Chiefe pride and glorie of the Female Sex.
A promising induction: what’s within?
Magnanimous Ladie, maruell not,
That your once Aduersary do’s submit himselfe
To your vnconquer’d beautie.

_Atlan._ Cunning Slaue.

_Aur._ Rather impute it to the power of loue,
Whose heauenly influence hath wrought in me,
So strange a Metamorphosis.

_Atlan._ The very quintessence of flatterie.

_Aur._ In so much, I vow hereafter, to spend all my dayes,
Deuoted to your seruice, it shall be
To expiate my former blasphemies:
My desire is shortly to visit you.

_Atlan._ It shall be to your cost then.

_Aur._ To make testimony of my hearty contrition,
Till when and euer I will protest my selfe,
To be the conuerted _Misogynist_.

_Atlan._ Ha, ha, ha, why, this is excellent!
Beyond imagination.

_Aur._ You must not slip this oportunitie.

_Atlan._ Ile not let passe a minute: his owne man
Ile make an instrument to feed his
Follies with a kind acceptance, and when he comes,
Let me alone to plot his punishment.

_Aur._ Excellent _Atlanta_, I applaud thy wit.

_Atlan._ Ile make him an example to all men,
That dares calumniate a womans fame.
Attend an answere, Ile reward thee well.

_Clow._ I thanke your Madame-ship, Ime glad o’ this,
Tis the best hit that euer Fencer gaue. _Exeunt._

_Enter_ Atticus, Iago, Sforza, _and_ Nicanor.

_Att._ How took the Girle her death? did she not raue?
Exclaime vpon me for the Iustice done
By a iust Father? how tooke Naples sonne
His Exile from our Land? What, no man speake?
My Lords, whence springs this alteration?
Why stand you thus amaz’d? Methinks your eyes
Are fixt in Meditation; and all here
Seeme like so many sencelesse Statues,
As if your soules had suffer’d an eclipse,
Betwixt your iudgements and affections:
Is it not so? 'Sdeath, no man answers?
_Iago_, you can tell: I’me sure you saw
The execution of _Leonida_,
Not yet a sillable? If once agen
We doe but aske the question, Death tyes vp
Your soules for euer. Call a Heads-man there.
If for our daughter this dumbe griefe proceed,
Why should not We lament as well as you?
I was her father; whose deare life I priz’d
Aboue mine owne, before she did transgresse:
And, could the Law haue so bin satisfi’d.
Mine should ha’ paid the ransome of her cryme.
But, that the World should know our equitie,
Were she a thousand daughters she should die.

_Iag._ I can forbeare no longer. Then (Sir) know,
It was about that time, when as the Sunne
Had newly climb’d ouer the Easterne hils,
To glad the world with his diurnall heat,
When the sad ministers of Iustice tooke
Your daughter from the bosome of the Queene
Whom now she had instructed to receiue
Deaths cold imbraces with alacritie:
Which she so well had learn’d, that shee did striue,
Like a too forward Scholler, to exceed
Her Teachers doctrine,
So cheerefully she went vnto the Block,
As if shee’d past vnto her nuptiall bed.
And as the trembling Bride when she espies
The Bridegroome hastily vnclothe himselfe,
And now beginning to approch the bed,
Then she began to quake and shrinke away,
To shun the separation of that head,
Which is imaginary onely, and not reall.
So, when she saw her Executioner
Stand readie to strike out that fatall blow,
Nature, her frailtie, and the alluring world,
Did then begin to oppose her constancie:
But she, whose mind was of a nobler frame,
Vanquish’d all oppositions, and imbrac’d
The stroke with courage beyond Womans strength;
And the last words she spoke, said, I reioyce
That I am free’d of Fathers tyrannie.

_Attic._ Forbeare to vtter more. We are not pleas’d
With these vnpleasing accents: Leaue the world
So cheerefully, and speake of tyrannie:
She was not guiltie sure. We’le heare no more.

_Iag._ Sir, but you shall: since you inforc’d me speake,
I will not leaue a sillable vntold.
You ask’d if Naples sonne were banish’d too?
Yes, he is banish’d euer from the sight
Of mortall eyes againe: for he is dead.

_Nic._ _Lisandro_ dead! By what occasion?

_Iag._ I scorne to answer thee. The King shall know,
It was his chance vpon that haplesse houre,
To passe that way, conducted by his gard,
Towards his banishment; where he beheld
The wofull obiect of the Princesse head:
There might you see loue, pittie, rage, despaire,
Acting together in their seuerall shapes;
That it was hard to iudge, which of all those
Were most predominant. At last, despaire
Became sole Monarke of his passions,
Which drew him to this error: Hauing got
Leaue of his gard to celebrate his vowes,
Vnto that precious relique of his Saint,
Where hauing breath’d a mournfull Elegie,
After a thousand sighs, ten thousand grones,
Still crying out, _Leonida_, my loue!
Then, as his death were limited by hers,
He sacrifiz’d his life vnto her loue:
For there (vnluckily) he slew himselfe.

_Sfor._ The King’s displeas’d, my Lord.

_Iag._ No matter: I’me glad I touch’d his conscience
To the quicke. Did you not see
How my relation chang’d his countenance,
As if my words ingendred in his brest
Some new-bred passions?

_Sfor._ Yes, and did obserue
How fearefully he gaz’d vpon vs all: _Enter Queene._
Pray heauen it proue not ominous.

_Iag._ The Queene!

_Quee._ Where is this King? this King? this tyrant? He
That would be cald The iust and righteous King,
When in his actions he is most vniust;
Beyond example, cruell, tyrannous?
Where is my daughter? Where’s _Leonida_?
Where is _Lusippus_ too, my first borne hope?
And where is deare _Lorenzo_? dead? all dead?
And would to God I were intomb’d with them,
Emptie of substance. Curse of Soueraigntie,
That feed’st thy fancie with deluding hopes
Of fickle shadowes; promising to one,
Eternitie of fame; and vnto all,
To be accounted wise and vertuous,
Obseruing but your Lawes and iust decrees;
That vnder shew of being mercifull,
Art most vnkind, and cruell: nay, ’tis true.
Goe where thou wilt, still will I follow thee,
And with my sad laments still beat thy eares,
Till all the world of thy iustice heares. _Ex. King, and Qu._

_Nic._ This Physick works too strongly, and may proue a deadly potion.
_Sforza_, good my Lord, if any anger be ’twixt you and I, let it lye
buried now; and let’s deuise some pastime to suppresse this
heauinesse. A melancholy King makes a sad Court.

_Iag._ I neuer heard him speake so carefully
Of the Kings welfare. I, with all my heart.

_Sfor._ Who’le vndertake this charge?

_Nic._ I will, my Lord: Let the deuice be mine.

_Iag._ I’le get the Amazon to ioyne with you:
Her rare inuention, and experience too,
In forraine Countries may auaile you much,
In some new quaint conceit.

_Nic._ Doe, good my Lord:
I’de ha’t assoone presented as I could.

_Iag._ Tonight, if it be possible: farewell.
I must goe looke her out.

_Nic._ Ha, ha, ha, ha.
So by this meanes, I shall expresse may selfe
Studious and carefull.

SCEN. III.

_Enter_ ATLANTA _and_ AVRELIA.

_Aur._ But dost thou thinke hee’le come?

_Att._ He cannot chuse.
I sent him such a louing answer backe
By his Solliciter, able to make
An Eunuch to come with the conceit.
The houre’s almost at hand. Madam, command
A banquet be set forth: My charge shall be

_Enter with a Banquet, Women._

To giue him intertainement: whilst your Grace,
_Loretta_, and the Ladies of your traine,
Or any others you shall please to appoint,
Be ready to surprise him. So ’tis well.
Now leaue the rest to mee.

_Aur._ My deare _Atlanta_, I commend thy care.

_Att._ Call it my dutie, Madam, and the loue
I owe to sacred vertue, to defend
The same of women. All withdraw awhile, _Ex. Women._
I thinke I heare him comming. I, ’tis he.

_Enter_ Misogynos _and Swash_.

_Swash._ This is the place, Sir, she appoynted you.

_Mis._ Is this the Orchard then,
Where I must pluck the fruit from that faire tree?

_Swash._ I would it might proue Stone-fruit,
And so choke him.

_Mis._ Ha! what’s here? a banquet?

_Swa._ Banquet? Where?

_Mis._ Readie prepar’d? why, this is excellent!
What a kind creature ’tis?

_Swa._ Did not I say
How monstrously she lou’d you? Come, fall to.

_Mis._ Before my Mistresse come?

_Swa._ I’faith Sir, I;
This is but onely a prouocatiue,
To make you strong and lustie for the incounter.

_Mis._ And here’s Wine too;
Nothing but Bloud and Spirit.
Fall to, _Swash_.

_Swa._ A sweetthing is loue,
That fills both heart and mind:
There is no comfort in the world,
To women that are kind. Here, Sir, I’le drinke to you.

_Mis._ I would she would come away once: Now, methinks,
I could performe. And see! but wish and haue.

_Enter_ Atlanta.

_Atlan._ Oh, are you come? I see you keep your houre.

_Mis._ I should be sorry else.

_Atl._ Nay, keepe your place.

_Mis._ Will you sit downe then? Sirrah? Walke aloofe.

_Atl._ Let him be doing something. Here, take this.

_Mis._ I haue made bold to taste your Wine and Cates.
And when you please, we’le try the operation.

_Atl._ How?

_Mis._ You know my mind.

_Atlan._ You men are all so fickle, that poore we
Doe not know whom to trust.
But doe you loue me truely?

_Mis._ By this kisse.

_Atl._ No, saue that labour, Sir: I’le take your word.
Yet, how should I beleeue you, when so late
You rail’d against our Sex, and slander’d vs?

_Mis._ Oh doe not thinke of that, that’s done and gone.
Doe not recall what’s past. I now recant:
And (by this hand) I loue thee truly, Loue.

_Atl._ May I beleeue all this?

_Mis._ Come hither, _Swash_.
How often haue I sworne to thee alone,
I lou’d this Lady; neuer none but shee?

_Swa._ Yes truely, that he has.

_Mis._ You may be proud, I tell you, of my loue,
There is a thousand Women in this Towne,
To imbrace me, would clap their hands for ioy,
And run like so many wild Cats.

_Swa._ That they would,
I dare be sworne for vm,
And hang about him like so many Catch-poles,
He would ne’r get from vm,
And yet this happinesse is profer’d you.

_Atl._ Which I cannot refuse,
You haue, you know, such a preuayling tongue,
No woman can deny you any thing.

_Mis._ Why, that was kindly spoke. Where shall wee meet?

_Atl._ Hearke in your eare, I’le tell you.

_Mis._ Best of all.

_Atl._ But—

_Mis._ Doe you thinke mesuch a foole?

_Atl._ Till then farewell: I’le speedily returne. _Ex. Atl._

_Mis._ Why law now, _Swash_, I told thee she would yeeld,
No woman in the world can hold out long.
Oh beware when a man of Art courts a woman.

_Swa._ I, or a Fencer, Sir: We lay vm flat before vs.
But, pray you tell me, Master, Doe you loue
This Lasse sincerely?

_Mis._ Ha, ha, ha. Loue? that were a iest indeed,
To passe away the time for sport, or so;
Th’are made for nothing else:
And he that loues vm longer, is a foole.

_Swa._ Me thinkes ’tis pittie to delude her, Sir:
I’faith she’s a handsome wench.

_Mis._ Away, you Asse.
Delude? what are they good for else?

_Enter_ Atlanta.

She comes againe. Out of the Orchard, _Swash_.
Welcome, Sweet heart.

_Atl._ Are you in priuate, Sir?

_Mis._ There’s not an eye vnder the Horizon
That can behold vs; If Suspicion tell,
I’le beat her blind as euer Fencer was.

_Atl._ Sir, now you talke of Fencing, I heare you
Professe that noble Science.

_Mis._ ’Tis most true.

_Atl._ I loue you, Sir, the better; ’tis a thing
I honour with my heart. If any one
Should scandalize or twit me with your loue,
You can defend my fame, and make such men—

_Mis._ Creepe on their knees, aske thee forgiuenesse,
Or any other base submission.

_Atl._ Oh, what a happinesse shall I inioy?
But can can you doe this if occasion serue?

_Mis._ Would some were here to make experience,
That thou mightst see my skill.

_Atl._ Sir, that will I. _Strike him._

_Mis._ How’s this?

_Atl._ Impudent slaue,
How dar’st thou looke a woman in the face,
Or commence loue to any: Specially to mee?
Thou know’st I’me vow’d thy publique enemie,
Which this, and this, and this shall testifie.

_Mis._ Oh that I had a weapon, thou shouldst know,
A thousand women could not stand one blow,
From my vnconquerd arme.

_Atl._ That shall be tride.
I’le fit you, Sir, in your owne element.
I thinke thou darest not looke vpon a sword.
See, there’s a foyle: I will but thumpe you, Sir.
Thy life’s reseru’d vnto a worse reuenge. _Play._

_Mis._ Oh. Some Deuil’s enterd in this Idol sure,
To make mee misbelieue. Oh.

_Atl._ Cowardly slaue. A Fencer? you a Fidler.
He cannot hold his weapon,
Gard his brest; no, nor defend a thrust. Art not asham’d
Thus to disgrace that noble exercise?

_Mis._ Oh: Hold, hold; I yeeld, I yeeld.

_Atl._ Has our Countrie meats fed you so high,
You needs must haue a stale for your base lust?
I’le satiate your sences ere I haue done:
And so much for your feeling: For your taste,
You haue had sufficient in your sweet-meats, Sir:
Your drinke too was perfum’d to please your smell.

_Mis._ I, but I haue had but sowre sauce to vm.

_Atl._ Why then the Prouerbe holds. Now for your sight.
Madam, Come forth, and bring your followers.

_Enter all the Women._

_Mis._ I’de rather see so many Cockatrices.
Oh that my eyes might be for euer shut,
So that I might ne’r behold these Crocadils.

_Aur._ Where’s this bawling Bandog.

_Omnes._ Here, here, here, here.

_Mis._ Murder, murder, murder. I’me betraid.
I shall be torne in pieces. Murder, ho.

_Aur._ Is this the dogged Humorist that cals
Himselfe the woman-hater?

_Mis._ On my knees.

_Aur._ Dost thou reply, vile Monster? Binde him, come.

_Old W._ Let me come to him, Ile so mumble him.

_Aur._ Remember faire _Leonida_ my child,
Whose innocence was made a Sacrifice
To thy base Forgeries and Sophistrie.

_Omnes._ Out, you abominable Rascall.

_Aur._ This for your hearing, Sir: now all is full.

_Mis._ Ladies, Gentlewomen, sweet _Atlanta_, all,
Heare me but speake.

_Lor._ No, not a syllable.
You haue spoke to match alreadie, you damn’d Rogue.
But weele reward you for’t. Skrew his iawes.

_Mis._ Oh, oh, oh.

_Aur._ Now, thou inhumane wretch, what punishment
Shall we inuent sufficient to inflict,
According to the height of our reuenge?

_Omnes._ Let’s teare his limmes in pieces, ioynt from ioynt.

_Mis._ Oh, oh.

_Scold._ Three or foure paire of Pincers, now red hot,
Were excellent.

_Lor._ Will not our Bodkings serue?

_Aur._ Hang him, Slaue, shall he dye as noble a death
As _Cæsar_ did? No, no: pinch him, pricke him.

_A Boy._ I haue small Pins enow to serue vs all.

_Scold._ We cannot wish for better: take him vp,
And bind him to this Post.

_Lor._ Faith, Post and Paire,
As good a Game as can be.

_Aur._ Come, let’s to’t,
Shuffle the Cards, and leaue out all the Knaues.

_Atl._ No, the Knaues in at Post, and out at Paire.

_Aur._ Shall it be so? Agreed?
Deale round.

_Scold._ First, stake.

_Mis._ Oh, oh, oh, oh.

_Atl._ Passe.

_Aur._ Passe.

_Lor._ Nay, Ile not passe it so. _Mis._ Oh, oh.

_A Boy._ Faith, Ile be in too,

_Mis._ Oh!

_Enter two Old Women and Swash._

_Aur._ Againe, for me too, I will vye it. _Mis._ Oh.

_Atl._ And for me, Ile not deny it. _Mis._ Oh.

_Lor._ Ile see you, and revy’t agen. _Mis._ Oh, oh.

_Scold._ For your two, Ile put in ten. _Mis._ Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh.

_Aur._ How now? stay, who’s this?

_Swash._ I could not find the way out of the Orchard,
If I should ha’ beene hang’d, but fell into these
Old Women s mouthes: but the best is,
They had no teeth to bite me, but my Grandame heere
Scratches most deuillishly.

_Atl._ Here’s a Whelpe of the same Litter too.
Come hither Sirrah, doe you know this man?

_Swash._ Yes, forsooth, I know him,
He was my Master once, want of a better.

_Lor._ Then you were one of his Confederates, Sir.

_Swash._ I his Confederate? I defye him,
He knowes I alwayes gaue him good counsell,
If he had had the grace to follow it:
Here he is himselfe, let him deny’t if he can.

_Mis._ Oh, oh, oh.

_Swash._ Did not I euer say, Master, take heed,
Wrong not kind Gentlewomen,
Honest louing women? Many a time
Haue I beene beaten by him blacke and blue,
For looking on a woman, is’t not true?

_Mis._ Oh, oh.

_Swash._ You seehis bringing vp,
To make a mouth at all this companie.

_Aur._ This is an honest fellow; he shall escape.
Sirrah, thou lou’st a woman?

_Swash._ I, with all my heart.

_Scold._ He lookes as if he did.