Chapter X: Act III: Scene I

_A Room in the Palace._

_Enter_ HORSUS _and_ ROXENA.

ROX. I’ve[420] no conceit[421] now that you ever lov’d
me,
But as lust led you for the time.
HOR. See, see!
ROX. Do you pine at my advancement, sir?
HOR. O barrenness
Of understanding! what a right love’s[422] this!
’Tis you that fall, I that am reprehended:
What height of honours, eminence of fortune,
Should ravish me from you?
ROX. Who can tell that, sir?
What’s he can judge of a man’s appetite
Before he sees him eat?
Who knows the strength of any’s constancy
That never yet was tempted? We can call
Nothing our own, if they be deeds to come;
They’re only ours when they are pass’d and done.
How blest are you above your apprehension,
If your desire would lend you so much patience,
T’ examine the adventurous condition
Of our affections, which are full of hazard,
And draw in the time’s goodness to defend us!
First, this bold course of ours cannot last long,
Nor ever does in any without shame,
And that, you know, brings danger; and the greater
My father is in blood, as he’s[423] well risen,
The greater will the storm of his rage be
’Gainst[424] his blood’s wronging: I have cast[425] for
this.
’Tis not advancement that I love alone;
’Tis love of shelter, to keep shame unknown.
HOR. O, were I sure of thee, as ’tis impossible
There to be ever sure where there’s no hold,
Your pregnant hopes should not be long in rising!
ROX. By what assurance have you held me thus far,
Which you found firm, despair you not in that.
HOR. True, that was good security for the time;
But in a change of state, when you’re advanc’d,
You women have a French toy in your pride,
You make your friend come crouching; or perhaps,
To bow in th’ hams the better, he is put
To compliment three hours with your chief woman,
Then perhaps not admitted; no, nor ever,
That’s the more noble fashion. Forgetfulness
Is the most pleasing virtue they can have,
That do spring up from nothing; for by the same
Forgetting all, they forget whence they came,
An excellent property of oblivion.
ROX. I pity all the fortunes of poor women
In my own unhappiness. When we have given
All that we have to men, what’s our requital?
An ill-fac’d jealousy, that resembles much
The mistrustfulness of an insatiate thief,
That scarce believes he has all, though he has stripp’d
The true man[426] naked, and left nothing on him
But the hard cord that binds him: so are we
First robb’d, and then left bound by jealousy.
Take reason’s advice, and you’ll find it impossible
For you to lose me in this king’s advancement,
Who’s an usurper here; and as the kingdom,
So shall he have my love by usurpation;
The right shall be in thee still. My ascension
To dignity is but to waft thee higher;
And all usurpers have the falling-sickness,
They cannot keep up long.
HOR. May credulous man
Put all his confidence in so weak a bottom,
And make a saving voyage?
ROX. Nay, as gainful
As ever man yet made.
HOR. Go, take thy fortunes,
Aspire with my consent,
So thy ambition will be sure to prosper;
Speak the fair certainties of Britain’s queen
Home to thy wishes.
ROX. Speak in hope I may,
But not in certainty.
HOR. I say in both:
Hope, and be sure I’ll soon remove the let[427]
That stands between thee and[428] glory.
ROX. Life of love!
If lost virginity can win such a day,
I’ll have no daughter but shall learn my way. [_Exit._
HOR. ’Twill be good work for him that first instructs
them:
May be some son[s] of mine, got by this woman too,
May match with their own sisters. Peace, ’tis he.

_Enter_ VORTIGER.

Invention, fail me not: ’tis a gallant credit
To marry one’s whore bravely. [_Aside._
VORT. Have I power
Of life and death, and cannot command ease
In my own blood? After I was a king,
I thought I never should have felt pain more;
That there had been a ceasing of all passions
And common stings, which subjects use to feel,
That were created with a patience fit
For all extremities. But such as we
Know not the way to suffer; then to do it,
How most preposterous ’tis! Tush, riddles, riddles!
I’ll break through custom. Why should not the mind,
The nobler part that’s of us, be allow’d
Change of affections, as our bodies are
Change of food and raiment? I’ll have it so.
All fashions appear strange at first production;
But this would be well followèd.—O, captain!
HOR. My lord, I grieve for you; I scarce fetch breath,
But a sigh hangs at the end of it: but this
Is not the way, if you’d[429] give way to counsel.
VORT. Set me right then, or I shall heavily curse thee
For lifting up my understanding to me,
To shew that I was wrong. Ignorance is safe;
I then slept happily: if knowledge mend me not,
Thou hast committed a most cruel sin,
To wake me into judgment, and then leave me.
HOR. I will not leave you, sir; that were rudely done.
First, you’ve a flame too open and too violent,
Which, like blood-guiltiness in an offender,
Betrays him when nought else can. Out with’t,[430] sir;
Or let some cunning coverture be made
Before your practice[431] enters: ’twill spoil all else.
VORT. Why, look you, sir; I can be as calm as silence
All the while music plays. Strike on, sweet friend,
As mild and merry as the heart of innocence;
I prithee, take my temper. Has a virgin
A heat more modest?
HOR. He does well to ask me;
I could have told him once. [_Aside._]—Why, here’s a
government!
There’s not a sweeter amity in friendship
Than in this league ’twixt you and health.
VORT. Then since
Thou find’st me capable of happiness,
Instruct me with the practice.
HOR. What will you say, my lord,
If I ensnare her in an act[432] of lust?
VORT.[433] O, there were art to the life! but ’tis
impossible;
I prithee, flatter me no farther with it.
Fie! so much sin as goes to make up that,
Will ne’er[434] prevail with her. Why, I’ll tell you,
sir,
She’s so sin-killing modest, that if only
To move the question were enough adultery
To cause a separation, there’s no gallant
So brassy-impudent durst undertake
The words that shall belong to’t.
HOR. Say you so, sir?
There’s nothing made in the world but has a way to’t;
Though some be harder than the rest to find,
Yet one there is, that’s certain; and I think
I’ve took the course to light on’t.[435]
VORT. O, I pray for’t!
HOR. I heard you lately say (from whence, my lord,
My practice[436] receiv’d life first), that your queen
Still consecrates her time to contemplation,
Takes solitary walks.
VORT. Nay, late and early
Commands her weak guard from her, which are but
Women at strongest.
HOR. I like all this, my lord:
And now, sir, you shall know what net is us’d
In many places to catch modest women,
Such as will never yield by prayers or gifts.
Now there be some will catch up men as fast;
But those she-fowlers nothing concern us;
Their birding is at windows; ours abroad,
Where ring-doves should be caught, that’s married wives,
Or chaste maids; what the appetite has a mind to.
VORT. Make no pause then.
HOR. The honest gentlewoman,
When nothing will prevail—I pity her now—
Poor soul, she’s entic’d forth by her own sex
To be betray’d to man; who in some garden-house[437]
Or remote walk, taking his lustful time,
Binds darkness on her eyelids, surprises her;
And having a coach ready, turns her in,
Hurrying her where he list for the sin’s safety,
Making a rape of honour without words;
And at the low ebb of his lust, perhaps
Some three days after, sends her coach’d again
To the same place; and, which would make most mad,
She’s robb’d of all, yet knows not where she’s robb’d,
There’s the dear precious mischief!
VORT. Is this practis’d?
HOR. Too much, my lord, to be so little known;
A springe to catch a maidenhead after sun-set,
Clip it, and send it home again to the city,
There ’twill ne’er be perceiv’d.
VORT. My raptures want expression; I conceit[438]
Enough to make me fortunate, and thee great.
HOR. I praise it then, my lord.—I knew ’twould take.
[Aside.]
[Exeunt.

SCENE II.

_Grounds near the Palace._

_Enter_ CASTIZA _with a book, and two_ LADIES.

CAST. Methinks, you live strange lives; when I see it
not,
It grieves me less; you know how to ease me then:
If you but knew how well I lov’d your absence,
You would bestow’t[439] upon me without asking.
FIRST LADY. Faith, for my part, were it no more for
ceremony than for love, you should walk long enough
without my attendance; and so think all my fellows,
though they say nothing. Books in women’s hands are as
much against the hair,[440] methinks, as to see men wear
stomachers, or night-rails.[441]—She that has the green-
sickness, and should follow her counsel, would die like
an ass, and go to the worms like a salad; not I: so long
as such a creature as man is made, she is a fool that
knows not what he is good for. [_Exeunt_ LADIES.
CAST. Though among life’s elections, that of virgin
I did speak noblest of, yet it has pleas’d the king
To send me a contented blessedness
In that of marriage, which I ever doubted.

_Enter_ VORTIGER _and_ HORSUS _disguised_.

I see the king’s affection was a true one;
It lasts and holds out long, that’s no mean virtue
In a commanding man; though in great fear
At first I was enforc’d to venture on it.
VORT. All’s happy, clear, and safe.
HOR. The rest comes gently on.
VORT. Be sure you seize on her full sight at first,
For fear of my discovery.
HOR. Now, fortune, and I am sped.
[_Seizes and blindfolds_ CASTIZA.
CAST. Treason! treason!
HOR. Sirrah, how stand you? prevent noise and clamour,
Or death shall end thy service.
VORT. A sure cunning. [_Aside._
CAST. O, rescue! rescue!
HOR. Dead her voice! away, make speed!
CAST. No help? no succour?
HOR. Louder yet, extend
Your voice to the last rack;[442] you shall have leave
now,
You’re far from any pity.
CAST. What’s my sin?
HOR. Contempt of man; and he’s a noble creature,
And takes it in ill part to be despis’d.
CAST. I never despis’d any.
HOR. No? you hold us
Unworthy to be lov’d; what call you that?
CAST. I have a lord disproves you.
HOR. Pish! your lord?
You’re bound to love your lord, that’s[443] no thanks to
you;
You should love those you are not tied to love,
That’s the right trial of a woman’s charity.
CAST. I know not what you are, nor what my fault is:
If it be life you seek, whate’er you be,
Use no immodest words, and take it from me;
You kill me more in talking sinfully
Than acting cruelly:[444] be so far pitiful,
To end me without words.
HOR. Long may you live!
’Tis the wish of a good subject: ’tis not life
That I thirst after; loyalty forbid
I should commit such treason: you mistake me,
I’ve[445] no such bloody thought; only your love
Shall content me.
CAST. What said you, sir?
HOR. Thus plainly,
To strip my words as naked as my purpose,
I must and will enjoy thee. [_She faints._]—Gone
already?
Look to her, bear her up, she goes apace;
I fear’d this still, and therefore came provided.
There’s that will fetch life from a dying spark,
And make it spread a furnace; she’s well straight.
[_Pours drops from a vial into_ CASTIZA’s _mouth_.
Pish, let her go; she stands, upon my knowledge,
Or else she counterfeits; I know the virtue.
CAST. Never did sorrows in afflicted woman
Meet with such cruelties, such hard-hearted ways
Human invention never found before:
To call back life to live, is but ill taken
By some departing soul[s]; then to force mine back
To an eternal act of death in lust,
What is it but most execrable?
HOR. So, so:
But this is from my business. List to me:
Here you are now far from all hope of friendship,
Save what you make in me; ’scape me you cannot,
Send your soul that assurance; that resolv’d on,
You know not who I am, nor ever shall,
I need not fear you then; but give consent,
Then with the faithfulness of a true friend
I’ll open myself to you, fall your servant,
As I do now in hope, proud of submission,
And seal the deed up with eternal secrecy;
Not death shall pluck’t[446] from me, much less the
king’s
Authority or torture.
VORT. I admire him. [_Aside._
CAST. O sir! whate’er you are, I teach my knee
Thus to requite you, be content to take [_Kneels._
Only my sight, as ransom for my honour,
And where[447] you have but mock’d my eyes with
darkness,
Pluck them quite out; all outward lights of body
I’ll spare most willingly, but take not from me
That which must guide me to another world,
And leave me dark for ever; fast without
That cursed pleasure, which will make two souls
Endure a famine everlastingly.
HOR. This almost moves. [_Aside._
VORT. By this light he’ll be taken! [_Aside._
HOR. I’ll wrestle down all pity. [_Aside._]—What! will
you consent?
CAST. I’ll never be so guilty.
HOR. Farewell words then!
You hear no more of me; but thus I seize you.
CAST. O, if a power above be reverenc’d by thee,
I bind thee by that name, by manhood, nobleness,
And all the charms of honour!
[VORTIGER _snatches her up, and carries her off_.
HOR. Ah, ha! here’s one caught
For an example: never was poor lady
So mock’d into false terror; with what anguish
She lies with her own lord! now she could curse
All into barrenness, and beguile herself by’t.[448]
Conceit’s[449] a powerful thing, and is indeed
Plac’d as a palate to taste grief or love,
And as that relishes, so we approve;
Hence comes it that our taste is so beguil’d,
Changing pure blood for some that’s mix’d and soil’d.
[_Exit._

SCENE III.

_A Chamber in a Castle._[450]

_Enter_ HENGIST.

HEN. A fair and fortunate constellation reign’d
When we set foot here; for from his first gift
(Which to a king’s unbounded eyes seem’d nothing),
The compass of a hide, I have erected
A strong and spacious castle, yet contain’d myself
Within my limits, without check or censure.
Thither, with all th’ observance of a subject,
The liveliest witness of a grateful mind,
I purpose to invite him and his queen,
And feast them nobly.
BARBER [_speaking without_]. We will enter, sir;
’Tis a state business, of a twelve-month long,
The choosing of a mayor.
HEN. What noise is that?
TAILOR [_without_]. Sir, we must speak with the good
earl of Kent:
Though we were ne’er[451] brought up to keep a door,
We are as honest, sir, as some that do.

_Enter a_ GENTLEMAN.

HEN. Now, sir, what’s the occasion of their clamours?
GENT. Please you, my lord, a company of townsmen
Are bent, ’gainst[452] all denials and resistance,
To have speech with your lordship; and that you
Must end a difference, which none else can do.
HEN. Why then there’s reason in their violence,
Which I ne’er look’d for: first let in but one,
And as we relish him, the rest come on.
[_Exit_ GENTLEMAN.
’Tis no safe wisdom in a rising man
To slight off such as these; nay, rather these
Are the foundations of a lofty work;
We cannot build without them, and stand sure.
He that ascends first[453] to a mountain’s top
Must begin at the foot.

_Re-enter_ GENTLEMAN.

Now, sir, who comes?
GENT. They cannot yet agree, my lord, of that:
They say ’tis worse now than it was before,
For where the difference was but between two,
Upon this coming first they’re all at odds.
One says, he shall lose his place in the church by’t;
Another will not do his wife that wrong;
And by their good wills they would all come first.
The strife continues in most heat, my lord,
Between a country barber and a tailor
Of the same town; and which your lordship names,
’Tis yielded by consent that he shall enter.
HENG. Here’s no sweet coil![454] I’m[455] glad they
are so reasonable.
Call in the barber [_Exit_ GENTLEMAN]; if the tale be
long,
He’ll cut it short, I trust; that’s all the hope.

_Re-enter_ GENTLEMAN _with_ BARBER.

Now, sir, are you the barber?
BARB. O, most barbarous! a corrector of enormities in
hair, my lord; a promoter of upper lips, or what your
lordship, in the neatness of your discretion, shall
think fit to call me.
HENG. Very good, I see you have this without book; but
what’s your business?
BARB. Your lordship comes to a very high point indeed:
the business, sir, lies about the head.
HENG. That’s work for you.
BARB. No, my good lord, there is a corporation, a body,
a kind of body.

HENG. The barber is out at the body; let in the
tailor.
[_Exit_ GENTLEMAN.
This ’tis to reach beyond your own profession;
When you let go your head, you lose your memory:
You have no business with the body.
BARB. Yes, sir, I am a barber-chirurgeon; I have had
something to do with it in my time, my lord; and I was
never so out of the body as I have been of late: send me
good luck, I’ll marry some whore but I’ll get in again.

_Re-enter_ GENTLEMAN _with_ TAILOR.

HENG. Now, sir, a good discovery come from you!
TAIL. I will rip up the linings to your lordship,
And shew what stuff ’tis made of: for the body
Or corporation—
HENG. There the barber left indeed.
TAIL. ’Tis piec’d up of two fashions.
HENG. A patch’d town the whilest.
TAIL. Nor can we go through stitch, my noble lord,
The choler is so great in the one party:
And as in linsey-woolsey wove together,
One piece makes several suits, so, upright earl,
Our linsey-woolsey hearts make all this coil.
HENG. What’s all this now? I’m[456] ne’er the wiser
yet.—
Call in the rest.
[_Exit_ GENTLEMAN, _and re-enter with_
GLOVER _and others_.
Now, sirs,—what are you?
GLOV. Sir-reverence[457] on your lordship, I am a
glover.
HENG. What needs that then?
GLOV. Sometimes I deal in dog’s leather, sir-reverence
the while.
HENG. Well, to the purpose, if there be any
towards.[458]
GLOV. I were an ass else, saving your lordship’s
presence.
We have a body, but our town wants a hand,
A hand of justice, a worshipful master mayor.
HENG. This is well handled yet; a man may take some hold
on it.—You want a mayor?
GLOV. Right, but there’s two at fisty-cuffs about it;
Sir, as I may say, at daggers drawing,—
But that I cannot say, because they have none,—
And you being earl of Kent, our town does say,
Your lordship’s voice shall part and end the fray.
HENG. This is strange work for me. Well, sir, what be
they?
GLOV. The one is a tanner.
HENG. Fie, I shall be too partial,
I owe too much affection to that trade
To put it to my voice. What is his name?
GLOV. Simon.
HENG. How, Simon too?
GLOV. Nay, ’tis but Simon one, sir; the very same Simon
that sold your lordship a hide.
HENG. What sayest thou?
GLOV. That’s all his glory, sir: he got his master’s
widow by it presently, a rich tanner’s wife: she has set
him up; he was her fore-man a long time in her other
husband’s days.
HENG. Now let me perish in my first aspiring,
If the pretty simplicity of his fortune
Do not most highly take me: ’tis a presage, methinks,
Of bright succeeding happiness to mine,
When my fate’s glow-worm casts forth such a shine.—
And what are those that do contend with him?
TAIL. Marry, my noble lord, a fustian-weaver.
HENG. How! he offer to compare with Simon? he a fit
match for him!
BARB. Hark, hark, my lord! here they come both in a
pelting chafe from the town-house.

_Enter_ SIMON _and_ OLIVER.

SIM. How, before me? I scorn thee,
Thou wattle-fac’d sing’d pig.
OLIV. Pig? I defy thee;
My uncle was a Jew, and scorn’d the motion.[459]
SIM. I list not brook thy vaunts. Compare with me,
Thou spindle of concupiscence? ’tis well known
Thy first wife was a flax-wench.
OLIV. But such a flax-wench
Would I might never want at my need,
Nor any friend of mine: my neighbours knew her.
Thy wife was but a hempen halter to her.
SIM. Use better words, I’ll hang thee in my year else,
Let who will choose thee afterwards.
GLOV. Peace, for shame;
Quench your great spirit: do not you see his lordship?
HENG. What, master Simonides?
SIM. Simonides? what a fair name hath he made of Simon!
then he’s an ass that calls me Simon again; I am quite
out of love with it.
HENG. Give me thy hand; I love thy fortunes, and like a
man that thrives.
SIM. I took a widow, my lord, to be the best piece of
ground to thrive on; and by my faith, my lord, there’s a
young Simonides, like a green onion, peeping up already.
HENG. Thou’st a good lucky hand.
SIM. I have somewhat, sir.
HENG. But why to me is this election offer’d? The
choosing of a mayor goes by most voices.
SIM. True, sir, but most of our townsmen are so hoarse
with drinking, there’s not a good voice among them all.
HENG. Are you content to put it to all these then?
To whom I liberally resign my interest,
To prevent censures.
SIM. I speak first, my lord.
OLIV. Though I speak last, my lord, I am not least: if
they will cast away a town-born child, they may; it is
but dying some forty years before my time.
HENG. I leave you to your choice a while.
ALL. Your good lordship.

[_Exeunt_ HENGIST _and_ GENTLEMAN.
SIM. Look you, neighbours, before you be too hasty. Let
Oliver the fustian-weaver stand as fair as I do, and the
devil do him good on’t.
OLIV. I do, thou upstart callymoocher,[460] I do; ’tis
well known to the parish I have been twice ale-
conner;[461] thou mushroom, that shot’st up in a night,
by lying with thy mistress!
SIM. Faith, thou art such a spiny baldrib,[462] all the
mistresses in the town will never get thee up.
OLIV. I scorn to rise by a woman, as thou didst: my wife
shall rise by me.
GLOV. I pray leave your communication; we can do nothing
else.
OLIV. I gave that barber a fustian-suit, and twice
redeemed his cittern:[463] he may remember me.
SIM. I fear no false measure but in that tailor; the
glover and the button-maker are both cocksure; that
collier’s eye I like not; now they consult, the matter
is in brewing: poor Gill, my wife, lies longing for the
news; ’twill make her a glad mother.
ALL [_except_ OL.]. A Simon, a Simon!
SIM. Good people, I thank you all.
OLIV. Wretch that I am! Tanner, thou hast curried
favour.
SIM. I curry! I defy thy fustian fume.
OLIV. But I will prove a rebel all thy year,
And raise up the seven deadly sins against thee.
[_Exit._
SIM. The deadly sins will scorn to rise by thee, if they
have any breeding, as commonly they are well brought up;
’tis not for every scab to be acquainted with them: but
leaving the scab, to you, good neighbours, now I bend my
speech. First, to say more than a man can say, I hold it
not fit to be spoken; but to say what a man ought to
say, there I leave you also. I must confess your loves
have chosen a weak and unlearned man; that I can neither
write nor read, you all can witness: yet not altogether
so unlearned, but I can set my mark to a bond, if I
would be so simple; an excellent token of government.
Cheer you then, my hearts, you have done you know not
what: there’s a full point; there you must all cough and
hem. [_Here they all cough and hem._] Now touching our
common adversary the fustian-weaver, who threatens he
will raise the deadly sins among us, let them come; our
town is big enough to hold them, we will not so much
disgrace it; besides, you know a deadly sin will lie in
a narrow hole: but when they think themselves safest,
and the web of their iniquity best woven, with the horse
strength of my justice I will break through the loom of
their concupiscence, and make the weaver go seek his
shuttle: here you may cough and hem again, if you’ll do
me the favour. [_They cough and hem again._] Why, I
thank you all, and it shall not go unrewarded. Now for
the deadly sins, pride, sloth, envy, wrath; as for
covetousness and gluttony, I’ll tell you more when I
come out of my office; I shall have time to try what
they are: I will prove them soundly; and if I find
gluttony and covetousness to be directly sins, I’ll bury
the one in the bottom of a chest, and the other in the
end of my garden. But, sirs, for lechery, I’ll tickle
that home myself, I’ll not leave a whore in the town.
BARB. Some of your neighbours must seek their wives in
the country then.
SIM. Barber, be silent, I will cut thy comb else. To
conclude, I will learn the villany of all trades; my own
I know already: if there be any knavery in the baker, I
will bolt it out; if in the brewer, I will taste him
throughly,[464] and piss out his iniquity at his own
suckhole: in a word, I will knock down all enormities
like a butcher, and send the hide to my fellow-tanners.
ALL. A Simonides, a true Simonides indeed!

_Re-enter_ HENGIST _with_ ROXENA.

HENG. How now? how goes your choice?
TAIL. This is he, my lord.
SIM. To prove I am the man, I am bold to take
The upper hand of your lordship: I’ll not lose
An inch of my honour.
HENG. Hold, sirs: there’s some few crowns
To mend your feast, because I like your choice.
BARB. Joy bless you, sir!
We’ll drink your health with trumpets.
SIM. I with sack-buts,[465]
That’s the more solemn drinking for my state;
No malt this year shall fume into my pate.
[_Exeunt all but_ HENGIST _and_ ROXENA.[466]
HENG. Continue[s] still that favour in his love?
ROX. Nay, with increase, my lord, the flame grows
greater;
Though he has learn’d a better art of late
To set a screen before it.
HENG. Speak lower.
[_Retires to a seat and reads_: _exit_ ROXENA.

_Enter_ VORTIGER _and_ HORSUS.

HOR. Heard every word, my lord.
VORT. Plainly?
HOR. Distinctly.
The course I took was dangerous, but not failing,
For I convey’d myself behind the hangings
Even just before his entrance.
VORT. ’Twas well ventur’d.
HOR. I had such a woman’s first and second longing in
me
To hear[467] how she would bear her mock’d abuse
After she was return’d to privacy,
I could have fasted out an ember-week,
And never thought of hunger, to have heard her:
Then came your holy Lupus and Germanus—
VORT. Two holy confessors.
HOR. At whose first sight
I could perceive her fall upon her breast,
And cruelly afflict herself with sorrow,
(I never heard a sigh till I heard hers);
Who, after her confession, pitying her,
Put her into a way of patience,
Which now she holds, to keep it hid from you:
There’s all the pleasure that I took in’t now;
When I heard that, my pains was well remember’d.
So, with applying comforts and relief,
They’ve[468] brought it lower, to an easy grief;
But yet the taste is not quite gone.
VORT. Still fortune
Sits bettering our inventions.
HOR. Here she comes.

_Enter_ CASTIZA.

CAST. Yonder’s my lord; O, I’ll return again!
Methinks I should not dare to look on him.
[_Aside, and exit._
HOR. She’s gone again.
VORT. It works the kindlier, sir:
Go now and call her back. [_Exit_ HORSUS.] She winds
herself
Into the snare so prettily, ’tis a pleasure
To set toils for her.

_Re-enter_ CASTIZA _and_ HORSUS.

CAST. He may read my shame
Now in my blush. [_Aside._
VORT. Come, you’re so link’d to holiness,
So taken[469] with contemplative desires,
That the world has you, yet enjoys you not:
You have been weeping too.
CAST. Not I, my lord.
VORT. Trust me, I fear you have: you’re much to blame
To yield so much to passion[470] without cause.
Is not some time enough for meditation?
Must it lay title to your health and beauty,
And draw them into time’s consumption too?
’Tis too exacting for a holy faculty.—
My lord of Kent!—I prithee, wake him, captain;
He reads himself asleep, sure.
HOR. My lord!
VORT. Nay,
I’ll take away your book, and bestow’t here.
[_Takes book from_ HENGIST.
HENG. Your pardon, sir.
VORT. [_giving book to_ CASTIZA] Lady, you that
delight in virgins’ stories,
And all chaste works, here’s excellent reading for you:
Make of that book as made men do of favours,
Which they grow sick to part from.—And now, my lord,
You that have so conceitedly[471] gone beyond me,
And made so large use of a slender gift,
Which we ne’er minded,[472] I commend your thrift;
And that your building may to all ages
Carry the stamp and impress of your wit,
It shall be call’d Thong-Castle.[473]
HENG. How, my lord,
Thong-Castle! there your grace quits me kindly.
VORT. ’Tis fit art should be known by its right name;
You that can spread my gift, I’ll spread your fame.
HENG. I thank your grace for that.
VORT. And, lovèd lord,
So well we do accept your invitation,
With all speed we’ll set forwards.
HENG. Your honour loves me. [_Exeunt._