Fletcher, John London: J. Macock, 1679 1610-1616 FleMTho1.1 MONSIEUR THOMAS A COMEDY Actus primus. Scena prima. Enter Alice, and Valentine. Alice How dearly welcome you are! Val I know it, And my best Sister, you are as dear to my sight, And pray let this confirm it: how you have govern'd My poor state in my absence, how my servants, I dare, and must believe, else I should wrong ye, The best and worthiest. Alic As my womans wit, Sir, Which is but weak and crazie. Val But good Alice, Tell me how fares the gentle Cellide, The life of my affection, since my travel, My long and lazie Travel? is her love still Upon the growing hand? does it not stop And wither at my years? has she not view'd And entertain'd some younger smooth behaviour, Some Youth but in his blossom, as her self is? There lies my fears. Alice They need not, for believe me So well you have manag'd her, and won her mind, Even from her hours of childhood, to this ripeness, And in your absence, that by me enforc'd still, So well distill'd your gentleness into her, Observ'd her, fed her fancy, liv'd still in her, And though Love be a Boy, and ever youthful, And young and beauteous objects ever aim'd at, Yet here ye have gone beyond love, better'd nature, Made him appear in years, in grey years fiery, His Bow at full bent ever; fear not Brother, For though your body has been far off from her, Yet every hour your heart, which is your goodness, I have forc'd into her, won a place prepar'd too, And willingly to give it ever harbour; Believe she is so much yours, and won by miracle, (Which is by age) so deep a stamp set on her By your observances, she cannot alter. Were the Child living now ye lost at Sea Among the Genoua Gallies, what a happiness! What a main Blessing! Val O no more, good Sister, Touch no more that string, 'tis too harsh and jarring. With that Child all my hopes went, and you know The root of all those hopes, the Mother too, Within few days. Alice 'Tis too true, and too fatal, But peace be with their souls. Val For her loss I hope the beauteous Cellide. Alice You may, Sir, For all she is, is yours. Val For the poor Boys loss, I have brought a noble friend, I found in Travel, A worthier mind, and a more temperate spirit, If I have so much judgement to discern 'em, Man yet was never master of. Alice What is he? Val A Gentleman, I do assure my self, And of a worthy breeding, though he hide it; I found him at Valentia, poor and needy, Only his mind the master of a Treasure. I sought his friendship, won him by much violence, His honesty and modesty still fearing To thrust a charge upon me; how I love him, He shall now know, where want and he hereafter Shall be no more Companions; use him nobly, It is my will, good Sister, all I have I make him free companion in, and partner, But only -- Alice I observe ye, hold your Right there, Love and high Rule allows no Rivals, Brother, He shall have fair regard, and all observance. Enter Hylas. Hylas You are welcome, noble Sir. Val What, Monsieur Hylas! I'm glad to see your merry Body well yet. Hyl 'Faith y'are welcome home, what news beyond seas? Val None, but new men expected, such as you are, To breed new admirations; 'Tis my Sister, 'Pray ye know her, Sir, Hylas With all my heart; your leave Lady? Alice You have it, Sir. Hylas A shrewd smart touch, which does prognosticate A Body keen and active, somewhat old, But that's all one; age brings experience And knowledge to dispatch: I must be better, And nearer in my service, with your leave, Sir, To this fair Lady. Val What, the old 'squire of Dames still! Hyl Still the admirer of their goodness; with all my heart now, I love a woman of her years, a pacer That lays the bridle in her Neck, will travel Forty, and somewhat fulsome is a fine dish. These young Colts are too skittish. Enter Mary. Alice My Cousin Mary In all her joy, Sir, to congratulate Your fair return. Val My loving and kind Cousin, A thousand welcomes. Mary A thousand thanks to heaven, Sir, For your safe voyage, and return. Val I thank ye; But where's my Blessed Cellide? her slackness In visitation. Mary Think not so, dear Uncle, I left her on her knees, thanking the gods With tears and prayers. Val Ye have given me too much comfort. Mary She will not be long from ye. Hyl Your fair Cousin? Val It is do, and a bait you cannot balk Sir, If your old rule reign in you, ye may know her: Following speech prefix not in Q, F2 Hylas A happy stock ye have, right worthy Lady, The poorest of your servants vows his duty And obliged faith. Mary O 'tis a kiss you would, Sir, Take it, and tye your tongue up. Hylas I am an Ass I do perceive now, a blind Ass, a Blockhead; For this is handsomness, this that that draws us Body and Bones: Oh what a mounted forehead, What eyes and lips, what every thing about her! How like a Swan she swims her pace, and bears Her silver Breasts! this is the Woman, she, And only she, that I will so much honour As to think worthy of my love, all older Idols I heartily abhor, and give to Gunpowder, And all Complexions besides hers, to Gypsies. Enter Francis at one door, and Cellide at another. Val O my dear life, my better heart, all dangers, Distresses in my travel, all misfortunes, Had they been endless like the hours upon me, In this kiss had been buried in oblivion; How happy have ye made me, truly happy? Cel My joy has so much over mastered me, That in my tears for your return-- Val O dearest; My noble friend too! what a Blessedness Have I about me now! how full my wishes Are come again, a thousand hearty welcomes I once more lay upon ye; all I have, The fair and liberal use of all my servants To be at your command, and all the uses Of all within my power. Fran Ye are too munificent, Nor am I able to conceive those thanks, Sir. Val Ye wrong my tender love now, even my service, Nothing accepted, nothing stuck between us And our intire affections but this woman, This I beseech ye friend. Fran It is a jewel, I do confess, would make a Thief, but never Of him that's so much yours, and bound your servant, That were a base ingratitude. Val Ye are noble, 'Pray be acquainted with her, keep your way, Sir, My Cousin and my Sister. Alice Ye are most welcome. Mary If any thing in our poor powers, fair Sir, To render ye content, and liberal welcome, May but appear, command it. Alice Ye shall find us Happy in our performance. Fran The poor Servant Of both your goodnesses presents his service. Val Come, no more Complement; Custom has made it Dull, old, and tedious; ye are once more welcome As your own thoughts can make ye, and the same ever. And so we'll in to ratifie it. Hyl Hark ye, Valentine: Is wild Oats yet come over? Val Yes, with me, Sir. Mary How does he bear himself? Val A great deal better; Why do you blush? the Gentleman will do well. Mary I should be glad on't, Sir Val How does his father? Hyl As mad a worm as e'er he was. Val I lookt for't: Shall we enjoy your Company? Hyl I'll wait on ye: Only a thought or two. Val We bar all prayers. Exeunt all but Hylas. Hyl This last Wench! I, this last wench was a fair one, A dainty Wench, a right one; a Devil take it, What do I ail? to have fifteen now in liking, Enough a Man would think to stay my stomach? But what's fifteen, or fifteen score to my thoughts? And wherefore are mine Eyes made, and have lights, But to encrease my Objects? This last Wench, Sticks plaguey close to me, a hundred pound I were as close to her; If I lov'd now, As many foolish men do, I should run mad. FleMTho1.2 SCENE II. Enter old Sebastian, and Launcelot. Seb Sirrah, no more of your French shrugs I advise you. If you be lowzie shift your self. Laun May it please your Worship. Seb Only to see my Son, my Son, good Launcelot; Your master and my Son; Body O me Sir, No money, no more money, Monsieur Launcelot; Not a Denier, sweet Signior; bring the Person, The person of my Boy, my Boy Tom, Monsieur Thomas, Or get you gone again, du gata whee, Sir; Bassa micu, good Launcelot, valetote. My Boy or nothing. Laun Then to answer punctually. Seb I say to th' purpose. Laun Then I say to th' purpose, Because your Worships vulgar Understanding May meet me at the nearest; your Son, my Master, Or Monsieur Thomas, (for so his Travel stiles him) Through many foreign plots that Vertue meets with, And dangers (I beseech ye give attention) Is at the last arriv'd To ask your (as the French man calls it sweetly) Benediction de jour en jour. Seb Sirrah, do not conjure me with your French fruits. Laun Che ditt'a vou, Monsieur. Seb Che doga vou, Rascal; Leave me your rotten language, and tell me plainly, And quickly, Sirrah, lest I crack your French Crown, What your good Master means; I have maintain'd You and your Monsieur, as I take it, Launcelot, These two years at your ditty vous, your jours. Jour me no more, for not another penny Shall pass my purse. Laun Your Worship is erroneous, For as I told you, your Son Tom, or Thomas, My master and your Son is now arriv'd To ask you, as our Language beats it nearest, Your quotidian Blessing, and here he is in Person. Enter Thomas. Seb What, Tom! Boy, welcome with all my heart, Boy Welcome, 'faith thou hast gladded me at soul, Boy, Infinite glad I am, I have pray'd too, Thomas, For you wild Thomas, Tom, I thank thee heartily For coming home. Thom Sir, I do find your Prayers Have much prevail'd above my sins. Seb How's this? Thom Else certain I had perish'd with my rudeness, Ere I had won my self to that discretion, I hope you shall hereafter find. Seb Humh, humh, Discretion? is it come to that? the Boy's spoil'd. Thom Sirrah, you Rogue, look for't, I will make thee Ten times more miserable than thou thought'st thy self Before thou travell'dst; thou hast told my Father, I know it, and I find it, all my Rogueries By meer way of prevention to undo me. Laun Sir, as I speak eight languages, I only Told him you came to ask his benediction, De jour en jour. Thom But that I must be civil, I would beat thee like a Dog. Sir, however The Time I have mispent may make you doubtful, Nay harden your belief 'gainst my Conversion. Seb A pox o' travel, I say. Thom Yet dear Father Your own experience in my after courses. Enter Dorothea. Seb Prithee no more, 'tis scurvy; there's thy Sister Undone without Redemption; he eats with picks, Utterly spoil'd, his spirit baffled in him: How have I sin'd that this affliction Should light so heavy on me? I have no more Sons; And this no more mine own, no spark of Nature Allows him mine now, he's grown tame; my grand curse Hang o'r his head that thus transform'd thee: travel? I'll send my horse to travel next; we Monsieur. Now will my most canonical dear Neighbours Say I have found my Son, and rejoyce with me, Because he has mew'd his mad tricks off: I know not, But I am sure this Monsieur, this fine Gentlemen Will never be in my Books like mad Thomas, I must go seek an Heir, for my inheritance Must not turn Secretary; my name and quality Has kept my Land three hundred years in madness, And it slip mow, may it sink. Exit. Thom Excellent Sister, I am glad to see thee well; but where's thy father? Dor Gone discontent, it seems. Thom He did ill in it As he does all; for I was uttering A handsome Speech or two, I have been studying E'r since I came from Paris: how glad to see thee! Dor I am gladder to see you, with more love too I dare maintain it, than my Father's sorry To see (as he supposes) your Conversion; And I am sure he is vext, nay more, I know it, He has pray'd against it mainly; but it appears, Sir, You had rather blind him with that poor opinion Than in your self correct it: dearest Brother, Since there is in our uniform resemblance, No more to make us two but our bare Sexes; And since one happy Birth produc'd us hither, Let one more happy mind. Thom It shall be, Sister, For I can do it when I list; and yet, Wench, Be mad too when I please; I have the trick on't: Beware a Traveller. Dor Leave that trick too. Thom Not for the world: but where's my Mistress, And prithee say how does she? I melt to see her, And presently: I must away. Dor Then do so, For o' my faith, she will not see you Brother. Thom Not see me? I'll -- Dor Now you play your true self; How would my father love this! I'll assure you She will not see you; she has heard (and loudly) The gambols that you plaid since your departure, In every Town ye came, your several mischiefs, Your rowses and your wenches; all your quarrels, And the no-causes of 'em; these I take it Although she love ye well, to modest ears, To one that waited for your reformation, To which end travel was propounded by her Uncle, Must needs, and reason for it, be examined, And by her modesty, and fear'd too light too, To fyle with her affections; ye have lost her For any thing I see, exil'd your self. Thom No more of that, sweet Doll, I will be civil. Dor But how long? Thom Would'st thou have me lose my Birth-right? For yond old thing will desinherit me If I grow too demure; good sweet Doll, prithee, Prithee, dear Sister, let me see her. Dor No. Thom Nay, I beseech thee, by this light. Dor I, swagger. Thom Kiss me, and be my friend, we two were twins, And shall we now grow strangers? Dor 'Tis not my fault. Thom Well, there be other women, and remember You, you were the cause of this; there be more lands too, And better People in 'em, fare ye well, And other loves; what shall become of me And of my vanities, because they grieve ye? Dor Come hither, come, do you see that Cloud that flies there? So light are you, and blown with every fancy: Will ye but make me hope ye may be civil? I know your Nature's sweet enough, and tender, Not grated on, nor curb'd: do you love your Mistress? Thom He lies that says I do not. Dor Would ye see her? Thom If you please, for it must be so. Dor And appear to her A thing to be belov'd? Thom Yes. Dor Change then A little of your wildness into wisdom, And put on a more smoothness; I'll do the best I can to help ye, yet I do protest she swore, and swore it deeply, She would never see you more; where's your mans heart now? What, do you faint at this? Thom She is a woman; But him she entertains next for a servant, I shall be bold to quarter. Dor No thought of fighting; Go in, and there we'll talk more, be but rul'd, And what lies in my power, ye shall be sure of. Exeunt. FleMTho1.3 SCENE III. Enter Alice, and Mary. Alice He cannot be so wild still. Mary 'Tis most certain, I have now heard all, and all the truth. Alice Grant all that; Is he the first that has been giv'n a lost man, And yet come fairly home? he is young and tender, And fit for that impression your affections Shall stamp upon him, age brings on discretion, A year hence, these mad toys that now possess him Will shew like Bugbears to him, shapes to fright him; Marriage dissolves all these like mists. Mary They are grounded Hereditary in him, from his father, And to his grave they will haunt him. Alice 'Tis your fear, Which is a wife part in you; yet your love However you may seem to lessen it With these dislikes, and choak it with these errors, Do what you can, will break out to excuse him, Ye have him in your heart, and planted, Cousin, From whence the power of reason, nor discretion Can ever root him. Mary Planted in my hear, Aunt? Believe it no, I never was so liberal; What though he shew a so so comely fellow Which we call pretty? or say it may be handsom? What though his promises may stumble at The power of goodness in him, sometimes use too? Al How willingly thy heart betrays thee, Cousin? Cozen thy self no more; thou hast no more power To leave off loving him than he that's thirsty Has to abstain from drink standing before him; His mind is not so monstrous for his shape, If I have Eyes, I have not seen his better. A handsome brown Complexion. Mary Reasonable, Inclining to a tawney. Alice Had I said so, You would have wish'd my tongue out; then his making. Mar Which may be mended; I have seen legs straighter, And cleaner made. Alice A body too. Mary Far neater, And better set together. Alice God forgive thee, For against thy Conscience thou lyest stubbornly. Mary I grant 'tis neat enough. Alice 'Tis excellent, And where the outward parts are fair and lovely, (Which are but moulds o'th 'mind) what must the soul be? Put case youth has his swinge, and fiery Nature Flames to mad uses many times. Mary All this You only use to make me say I love him; I do confess I do, but that my fondness Should fling it self upon his desperate follies. Alice I do not counsel that, see him reclaim'd first, Which will not prove a miracle, yet Mary, I am afraid 'twill vex thee horribly To stay so long. Mary No, no Aunt, no, believe me. Alice What was your dream to night? for I observ'd ye Hugging of me, with good dear sweet Tom. Mary Fye, Aunt, Upon my Conscience. Alice On my word 'tis true, Wench; And then ye kiss'd me, Mary, more than once too, And sigh'd, and O sweet Tom again; nay, do not blush, Ye have it at the heart, Wench. Mary I'll be hang'd first, But you must have your way. Enter Dorothea. Alice And so will you too, Or break down hedges for it. Dorothea, The welcom'st woman living; how does thy Brother? I hear he's turn'd a wondrous civil Gentleman Since his short travel. Dor 'Pray Heaven he make it good, Alice. Mary How do ye friend? I have a quarrel to ye, Ye stole away and left my company. Dor O pardon me, dear friend, it was to welcome A brother that I have some Cause to love well. Mary Prithee how is he? thou speak'st truth. Dor Not perfect, I hope he will be. Mary Never: h'as forgot me, I hear Wench, and his hot love too. Alice Thou would'st howl then. Mary And I am glad it should be so; his travels Have yielded him variety of Mistresses, Fairer in his eye far. Alice O cogging Rascal! Mary I was a fool, but better thoughts I thank heaven. Dor 'Pray do not think so, for he loves you dearly, Upon my troth most firmly, would fain see you. Mary See me friend! do you think it fit? Dor It may be, Without the loss of credit too; he's not Such a prodigious thing, so monstrous, To fling from all society. Mary He's so much contrary To my desires, such an antipathy That I must sooner see my grave. Dor Dear friend, He was not so before he went. Mary I grant it, For then I daily hop'd his fair Conversion. Alice Come, do not mask your self, but see him freely, Ye have a mind. Mary That mind I'll master then. Dor And is your hate so mortal? Mary Not to his person, But to his qualities, his mad-cap follies, Which still like Hydras heads grow thicker on him. I have a credit, friend, and Maids of my sort, Love where their modesties may live untainted. Dor I give up that hope then; 'pray for your friends sake, If I have any interest within ye, Do but this courtesie, accept this Letter. Mary From him? Dor The same; 'tis but a minutes reading, And as we look on shapes of painted Devils, Which for the present may disturb our fancy, But with the next new object lose'em so If this be foul, ye may forget it, 'pray. Mary Have ye seen it, friend? Dor I will not lie; I have not, But I presume, so much he honours you, The worst part of himself was cast away When to his best part he writ this. Mary For your sake, Not that I any way shall like his scribling. Alice A shrewd dissembling Quean. Dor I thank ye, dear friend, I know she loves him. Alice Yes, and will not lose him, Unless he leap into the Moon, believe that, And then she'l scramble too; young wenches loves Are like the course of quartans, they may shift And seem to cease sometimes, and yet we see The least distemper pulls 'em back again, And seats 'em in their old course; fear her not, Unless he be a Devil. Mary Now Heaven bless me. Dor What has he writ? Mary Out, out upon him. Dor Ha, what has the mad man done? Mary Worse, worse, and worse still. Alice Some Northern Toy, a little broad. Mary Still fouler? Hey, hey Boys, goodness keep me; Oh. Dor What ail ye? Mary Here, take your Spell again, it burns my fingers. Was ever Lover writ so sweet a Letter? So elegant a style? pray look upon't; The rarest inventory of rank Oaths That ever Cur-purse cast. Alice What a mad Boy is this? Mary Only i'th' bottom A little Julip gently sprinkled over To cool his mouth, lest it break out in blisters, Indeed law. Yours for ever. Dor I am sorry. Mar You shall be welcome to me, come when you please, And ever may command me vertuously, But for your Brother, you must pardon me, Till I am of his nature, no access friend, No word of visitation, as ye love me, And so for now I'le leave ye. Exit. Alice What a letter Has this thing written, how it roars like thunder? With what a state he enters into stile? Dear Mistress. Dor Out upon him bedlam. Alice Well, there be waies to reach her yet: such likeness As you two carry me thinks. Dor I am mad too, And yet can apprehend ye: fare ye well, The fool shall now fish for himself. Alice Be sure then His tewgh be tith and strong: and next no swearing, He'l catch no fish else, Farewel Dol. Dor Farewel Alice. Exeunt. FleMTho2.1 ACTUS SECUNDUS. SCENA PRIMA. Enter Valentine, Alice, and Cellide. Cel Indeed he's much chang'd, extreamly alter'd, His colour faded strangely too. Val The air, The sharp and nipping air of our new climate I hope is all, which will as well restore To health again th' affected body by it, And make it stronger far, as leave it dangerous; How do's my sweet, our blessed hour comes on now Apace my Cellide, (it knocks at door) In which our loves, and long desires like rivers Rising asunder far, shall fall together, Within these too daies dear. Cel When heaven, and you Sir Shall think it fit: for by your wills I am govern'd. Alice 'Twere good some preparation. Enter Frank. Val All that may be: It shall be no blind wedding: and all the joy Of all our friends I hope: he looks worse hourly, How does my friend, my self? he sweats too coldly, His pulse, like the slow dropping of a spowt, Scarce give his function: how is't man, alas Sir, You look extreme ill: is it any old grief, The weight of which? Fra None, gentle Sir, that I feel, Your love is too too tender, Nay believe Sir. Cel You cannot be the master of your health, Either some feaver lyes in wait to catch ye, Whose harbinger's already in your face We see preparing: or some discontent, Which if it lye in this house, I dare say Both for this noble Gentleman, and all That live within it, shall as readily Be purged away, and with as much care soften'd, And where the cause is. Fran 'Tis a joy to be ill, Where such a vertuous fair Physitian Is ready to relieve: your noble cares I must, and ever shall be thankful for, And would my service (I dare not look upon her) But be not fearful, I feel nothing dangerous, A grudging caus'd by th' alteration Of air, may hang upon me: my heart's whole, (I would it were.) Val I knew the cause to be so. Fra No, you shall never know it. Alice Some warm broths To purge the bloud, and keep your bed a day Sir, And sweat it out. Cel I have such cordials, That if you will but promise me to take 'em, Indeed you shall be well, and very quickly, I'le be your Doctor, you shall see how finely I'le fetch ye up again. Val He sweats extreamly: Hot, very hot: his pulse beats like a drum now, Feel Sister, feel, feel sweet. Fra How that touch stung me? Val My gown there. Cel And those julips in the window. Alice Some see his bed made. Val This is most unhappy, Take courage man, 'tis nothing but an ague. Cel And this shall be the last fit. Fra Not by thousands: Now what 'tis to be truly miserable, I feel at full experience. Alice He grows fainter. Val Come, lead him in, he shall to bed; a vomit, I'le have a vomit for him. Alice A purge first, And if he breath'd a vein. Val No, no, no bleeding, A Clyster will cool all. Cel Be of good cheer Sir. Alice He's loth to speak. Cel How hard he holds my hand aunt? Alice I do not like that sign. Val Away to's chamber, Softly, he's full of pain, be dilligent With all the care ye have: would I had scus'd him. Exeunt. FleMTho2.2 SCENA II>. Enter Dorothea, and Thomas. Dor Why do you rail at me? do I dwell in her To force her to do this or that? your letter, A wilde-fire on your letter; your sweet Letter; You are so learned in your writs: ye stand now. As if ye had worried sheep: you must turn tippet, And suddenly, and truely, and discreetly Put on the shape of order and humanity, Or you must marry Malkyn the May Lady: You must, dear Brother: do you make me carrier Of you confound-mee's, and your culverings? Am I a seemly agent for your oaths? Who would have writ such a debosh'd? Thom Your patience, May not a man profess his love? Dor In blasphemies? Rack a maids tender ears, with dam's and Devils? Thom Out, out upon thee, How would you have me write? Begin with my love premised? surely, And by my truly Mistress. Dor Take your own course, For I see all perswasion's lost upon ye: Humanitie, all drown'd: from this hour fairly I'le wash my hands of all ye do: farewel sir. Tho Thou art not mad? Dor No, if I were, dear Brother I would keep you company: get a new Mistress Some suburb Saint, that six pence, and some others Will draw to parley: carowse her health in Cans And candles ends, and quarrel for her beauty, Such a sweet heart must serve your turn: your old love Releases ye of all your tyes; disclaims ye And utterly abjures your memory Till time has better manag'd ye, will ye command me -- Thom What, bob'd of all sides? Dor Any worthy service Unto my Father Sir, that I may tell him Even to his peace of heart, and much rejoycing Ye are his true Son Tom still? will it please ye To beat some half a dozen of his servants presently, That I may testifie you have brought the same faith Unblemish'd home, ye carried out? or if it like you There be two chambermaids within, young wenches, Handsom and apt for exercise: you have been good, Sir, And charitable though I say it Signiour To such poor orphans: and now, by th'way I think on't Your young rear Admiral, I mean your last bastard Don John, ye had by Lady Blanch the Dairy Maid, Is by an Academy of learned Gypsies, Foreseeing some strange wonder in the infant Stoln from the Nurse, and wanders with those Prophets, There is plate in the parlour, and good store Sir, When your wants shall supply it. So most humbly (First rendring my due service) I take leave Sir. Exit. Tho Why Doll, why Doll I say: my letter fub'd too, And no access without I mend my manners? All my designes in Limbo? I will have her, Yes, I will have her, though the Devil roar, I am resolv'd that, if she live above ground, I'le not be bob'd i'th' nose with every bobtail: I will be civil too, now I think better, Exceeding civil, wondrous finely carried: And yet be mad upon occasion, And stark mad too, and save my land: my Father, I'le have my will of him, how e're my wench goes. Exit. FleMTho2.3 Enter Sebastian, and Launcelot. Seb Sirrah, I say still you have spoil'd your Master: leave your stitches: I say thou hast spoil'd thy Master. Lau I say how Sir? Seb Marry thou hast taught him like an arrant rascal, First to read perfectly: which on my blessing I warn'd him from: for I knew if he read once, He was a lost man. Secondly, Sir Launcelot, Sir lowsie Launcelot, ye have suffer'd him Against my power first, then against my precept, To keep that simpring sort of people company, That sober men call civil: mark ye that Sir? Lau And't please your worship. Seb It does not please my worship, Nor shall not please my worship: thirdly and lastly, Which if the law were here, I would hang thee for, (However I will lame thee) like a villain, Thou hast wrought him Clean to forget what 'tis to do a mischief, A handsom mischief, such as thou knew'st I lov'd well. My servants all are sound now, my drink sowr'd, Not a horse pawn'd, nor plaid away: no warrants Come for the breach of peace. Men travel with their mony, and nothing meets 'em: I was accurs'd to send thee, thou wert ever Leaning to laziness, and loss of spirit, Thou slep'st still like a cork upon the water. Lau Your worship knows, I ever was accounted The most debosh'd, and please you to remember, Every day drunk too, for your worships credit, I broke the Butlers head too. Seb No, base Palliard, I do remember yet that anslaight, thou wast beaten, And fledst before the Butler; a black jack Playing upon thee furiously, I saw it: I saw thee scatter'd rogue, behold thy Master. Enter Thomas, with a Book. Thom What sweet content dwells here! Lau Put up your Book Sir, We are all undone else. Seb Tom, when is the horse-race? Thom I know not Sir. Seb You will be there? Tho Not I Sir. I have forgot those journeys. Seb Spoil'd for ever. The Cocking holds at Derby, and there will be Jack, wild-oats, and Will Purser. Tho I am sorry, Sir, They should employ their time so slenderly, Their understanding will bear better courses. Seb Yes, I will marry again: but Monsieur Thomas, What say ye to the Gentleman that challeng'd ye Before he went, and the fellow ye fell out with? Tho O good Sir, Remember not those follies; where I have wrong'd, Sir, (So much I have now learn'd to discern my self) My means, and my repentance shall make even, Nor do I think it any imputation To let the Law perswade me. Seb Any Woman: I care not of what colour, or complexion, Any that can bear Children: rest ye merry. Exit. La Ye have utterly undone; clean discharg'd me, I am for the ragged Regiment. Tho Eight languages, And wither at an old mans words? La O pardon me. I know him but too well: eightscore I take it Will not keep me from beating, if not killing: I'le give him leave to brake a leg, and thank him: You might have sav'd all this, and sworn a little: What had an oath or two been? or a head broke, Though 'thad been mine, to have satisfied the old man? Tho I'le break it yet. La Now 'tis too late, I take it: Will ye be drunk to night, (a less intreaty Has serv'd your turn) and save all yet? not mad drunk, For then ye are the Devil, yet the drunker, The better for your Father still: your state is desperate, And with a desperate cure ye must recover it: Do something, do Sir: do some drunken thing, Some mad thing, or some anything to help us. Tho Go for a Fidler then: the poor old Fidler That sayes his Songs: but first where lyes my Mistriss, Did ye enquire out that? La I'th' Lodge, alone Sir, None but her own Attendants. Tho 'Tis the happier: Away then, find the Fidler, and do not miss me By nine a Clock. La Via. Exit. Tho My Father's mad now, And ten to one will disinherit me: I'le put him to his plunge, and yet be merry. What Ribabald? Enter Hylas and Sam. Hyl Don Thomasio. De bene venew. Tho I do embrace your body: How do'st thou Sam? Sam The same Sam still: your friend Sir. Tho And how is't bouncing boyes? Hyl Thou art not alter'd, They said thou wert all Monsieur. Tho O believe it, I am much alter'd, much another way: The civil'st Gentleman in all your Country: Do not ye see me alter'd? yea, and nay Gentlemen, A much converted man: where's the best wine boys? Hyl A sound Convertitie. Tho What, hast thou made up twenty yet? Hyl By'r Lady, I have giv'n a shrewd push at it, for as I take it, The last I fell in love with, scor'd sixteen. Tho Look to your skin, Rambaldo the sleeping Gyant Will rowze and rent thee piece-meal. Sam He ne'r perceives 'em Longer than looking on. Thom Thou never meanest then To marry any that thou lov'st? Hyl No surely, Nor any wise man I think; marriage? Would you have me now begin to be prentice, And learn to cobble other mens old Boots? Sam Why, you may take a Maid. Hyl Where? can you tell me? Or if 'twere possible I might get a Maid, To what use should I put her? look upon her, Dandle her upon my knee, and give her sugar-sops? All the new Gowns i'th' Parish will not please her, If she be high bred, for there's the sport she aims at, Nor all the feathers in the Fryars. Thom Then take a Widow, A good stanch wench, that's tith. Hyl And begin a new order, Live in a dead mans monument, not I, Sir, I'll keep mine own road, a true mendicant; What pleasure this day yields me, I never covet To lay up for the morrow; and methinks ever Another mans Cook dresses my diet neatest. Thom Thou wast wont to love old woman, fat and flat nosed. And thou would'st say they kiss'd like Flounders, flat All the face over. Hyl I have had such damsels I must confess. Thom Thou hast been a precious Rogue. Sam Only his eyes; and o' my Conscience They lye with half the Kingdom. Enter over the Stage, Physicians and others. Thom What's the matter? Whither go all these men-menders, these Physicians? Whose Dog lies sick o'th' mulligrubs? Sam O the Gentleman, The young smug Seigniour, Master Valentine, Brought out of travel with him, as I hear, Is faln sick o'th' sudden, desperate sick, And likely they go thither. Thom Who? young Frank? The only temper'd spirit, Scholar, Souldier, Courtier; and all in one piece? 'tis not possible. Enter Alice. Sam There's one can better satisfie you. Thom Mistress Alice, I joy to see you Lady. Alice Good Monsieur Thomas, You're welcome from your travel; I am hasty, A Gentleman lyes sick, Sir. Thom And how dost thou? I must know, and I will know. Alice Excellent well, As well as may be, thank ye. Thom I am glad on't, And prithee hark. Alice I cannot stay. Thom A while, Alice. Sam Never look so narrowly, the mark's in her mouth still. Hyl I am looking at her legs, prithee be quiet. Alice I cannot stay. Thom O sweet Alice. Hyl A clean instep, And that I love a life, I did not mark This woman half so well before, how quick And nimble like a shadow, there her leg shew'd; By th' mass a neat one, the colour of her Stocking, A much inviting colour. Alice My good Monsieur, I have no time to talk now. Hyl Pretty Breeches, Finely becoming too. Thom By Heaven. Alice She will not, I can assure you that, and so. Thom But this word. Alice I cannot, nor I will not, good Lord. Exit. Hyl Well, you shall hear more from me. Thom We'll go visit, 'Tis Charity; besides, I know she is there; And under visitation I shall see her; Will ye along? Hyl By any means. Thom Be sure then, I be a civil man; I have sport in hand, Boys, Shall make mirth for a Marriage day. Hyl Away then. Exeunt. FleMTho2.4 SCENE III. Enter three Physicians with an Urinal. 1 Phy. A Pleurisie, I see it. 2 Phy. I rather hold it For tremor Cordis. 3 Phy. Do you mark the Faeces? 'Tis most pestilent contagious Feaver, A surfeit, a plaguey surfeit; he must bleed. 1 Phy. By no means. 3 Phy. I say bleed. 2 Phy. I say 'tis dangerous; The person being spent so much before-hand, And Nature drawn so low, Clysters, cool Clysters. 2 Phy. Now with your favours I should think a Vomit: For take away the Cause, the Effect must follow, The Stomach's foul and fur'd, the pot's unflam'd yet. 3 Phy. No, no, we'll rectifie that part by mild means, Nature so sunk must find no violence. Enter a Servant. Serv Will't please ye draw near? the weak Gentleman. Grows worse and worse still. 1 Phy. Come, we will attend him. 2 Phy. He shall do well, my friend. Serv My Masters love, Sir. 1 Excellent well I warrant thee, right and straight, friend. 3 Phy There's no doubt in him, none at all, ne'r fear him. Exeunt. FleMTho2.5 SCENE IV. Enter Valentine, and Michael. Mich That he is desperate sick I do believe well, And that without a speedy cure it kills him, But that it lyes within the help of Physick Now to restore his health, or art to cure him; Believe it you are cozen'd, clean beside it. I would tell ye the true cause too, but 'twould vex ye, Nay, run ye mad. Val May all I have restore him? So dearly and so tenderly I love him. I do not know the cause why, yea my life too. Mich Now I perceive ye so well set, I'll tell you, Hei mihi quod nullis Amor est medicabilis herbis. Val 'Twas that I only fear'd; good friend go from me, I find my heart too full for further conference; You are assur'd of this? Mich 'Twill prove too certain. But bear it nobly, Sir, Youth hath his errours. Val I shall do, and I thank ye; 'pray ye no words on't. Mich I do not use to talk, Sir. Exit. Val Ye are welcome; Is there no Constancy in earthly things, No happiness in us, but what must alter? No life without the heavy load of Fortune? What miseries we are, and to our selves, Even then when full content seems to sit by us, What daily sores and sorrows? Enter Alice. Alice O dear Brother, The Gentleman if ever you will see him Alive as I think. Enter Cellide. Cel O he faints, for Heavens sake, For Heavens sake, Sir. Val Go comfort him, dear Sister. Exit Alice. And one word, sweet, with you: then we'll go to him. What think you of this Gentleman? Cel My pity thinks, Sir, 'Tis great misfortune that he should thus perish. Val It is indeed, but Cellide, he must dye. Cel That were a cruelty, when care may cure him, Why do you weep so, Sir? he may recover. Val He may, but with much danger; my sweet Cellide, You have a powerful tongue. Cel To do you service. Val I will betray his grief; he loves a Gentlewoman, A friend of yours, whose heart another holds, He knows it too; yet such a sway blind fancy, And his not daring to deliver it, Have won upon him, that they must undo him: Never so hopeful and so sweet a Spirit, Misfortune fell so foul on. Cel Sure she's hard hearted, That can look on, and not relent, and deeply At such a misery; she is not married? Val Not yet. Cel Nor near it? Val When she please. Cel And pray Sir, Does he deserve her truly, that she loves so? Val His love may merit much, his Person little, For there the match lyes mangled. Cel Is he your friend? Val He should be, for he is near me. Cel Will not he dye then, When th'other shall recover? Val Ye have pos'd me. Cel Methinks he should go near it, if he love her; If she love him. Val She does, and would do equal. Cel 'Tis a hard task you put me; yet for your sake I will speak to her, all the art I have; My best endeavours; all his Youth and Person, His mind more full of beauty; all his hopes The memory of such a sad example, Ill spoken of, and never old; the curses Of loving maids, and what may be alledg'd I'll lay before her: and what her Name? I am ready. Val But will you deal effectually? Cel Most truly; Nay, were it my self, at your entreaty. Val And could ye be so pitiful? Cel So dutiful; Because you urge it, Sir. Val It may be then It is your self. Cel It is indeed, I know it, And now know how ye love me. Val O my dearest, Let but your goodness judge; your own part's pity; Set but your eyes on his afflictions; He is mine, and so becomes your charge: but think What ruine Nature suffers in this young man, What loss humanity, and noble manhood; Take to your better judgment my declining, My Age hung full of impotence, and ills, My Body budding now no more: seer Winter Hath seal'd that sap up, at the best and happiest I can but be your infant, you my Nurse, And how unequal dearest; where his years, His sweetness, and his ever spring of goodness, My fortunes growing in him, and my self too, Which makes him all your old love; misconceive not, I say not this as weary of my bondage, Or ready to infringe my faith; bear witness, Those eyes that I adore still, those lamps that light me To all the joy I have. Cel You have said enough, Sir, And more than e'r I thought that tongue could utter, But you are a man, a false man too. Val Dear Cellide. Cel And now, to shew you that I am a woman Rob'd of her rest, and fool'd out of her fondness, The Gentleman shall live, and if he love me, Ye shall be both my triumphs; I will to him, And as you carelesly fling off your fortune, And now grow weary of my easie winning, So will I lose the name of Valentine, From henceforth all his flatteries, and believe it, Since ye have so slightly parted with affection, And that affection you have pawn'd your faith for; From this hour no repentance, vows, nor prayers Shall pluck me back again; what I shall do, Yet I will undertake his cure, expect it, Shall minister no comfort, no content To either of ye, but hourly more vexations. Val Why, let him dye then. Cel No, so much I have loved To be commanded by you, that even now, Even in my hate, I will obey your wishes. Val What shall I do? Cel Dye like a fool unsorrow'd, A bankrupt fool, that flings away his Treasure; I must begin my cure. Val And I my Crosses. Exeunt. FleMTho3.1 ACTUS TERTIUS SCENA PRIMA. Enter Frank sick, Physicians, and an Apothecary. 1 Phy Clap on the Cataplasm. Frank Good Gentlemen, Good learned Gentlemen. 2 Phy And see these broths there, Ready within this hour, pray keep your arms in, The air is raw, and ministers much evil. Fran 'Pray leave me; I beseech ye leave me, Gentlemen, I have no other sickness but your presence, Convey your Cataplasms to those that need 'em, Your Vomits, and your Clysters. 3 Phy Pray be rul'd, Sir. 1 Phy Bring in the Lettice Cap; you must be shaved, Sir, And then how suddenly we'll make you sleep! Frank Till dooms-day: what unnecessary nothings Are these about a wounded mind? 2 Phy How do ye? Frank What questions they propound too! how do you, Sir? I am glad to see you well. 3 Phy A great distemper, it grows hotter still. 1 Phy Open your mouth, I pray, Sir. Frank And can you tell me How old I am then? there's my hand, pray shew me How many broken shins within this two year. Who would be thus in fetters, good master Doctor, And you dear Doctor, and the third sweet Doctor, And precious master Apothecary, I do pray ye To give me leave to live a little longer, Ye stand before me like my Blacks. 2 Phy 'Tis dangerous, For now his fancy turns too. Enter Cellide. Cel By your leave Gentlemen: And pray ye your leave a while too, I have something Of secret to impart unto the Patient. 1. With all our hearts. 3 Phy. I mary such a Physick May chance to find the humour: be not long Lady, For we must minister within this half hour. Ex. Phys. Cel You shall not stay for me. Fra Would you were all rotten That ye might only intend one anothers itches: Or would the Gentlemen with one consent Would drink small Beer but seven years, and abolish That wild fire of the blood, unsatiate wenching, That your two Indies, springs and falls might fail ye, What torments these intruders into bodies. Cel How do you worthy Sir? Fran Bless me, what beams Flew from these Angel eyes! O what a misery What a most studied torment 'tis to me now To be an honest man! dare ye sit by me? Cel Yes, and do more than that too: comfort ye, I see ye have need. Fran You are a fair Physician: You bring no bitterness gilt o're, to gull us, No danger in your looks, yet there my death lyes. Cel I would be sorry, Sir, my charity And my good wishes for your health should merit So stubborn a construction: will it please ye To taste a little of this Cordial Enter Valentine. For this I think must cure ye. Fra Of which Lady? Sure she has found my grief: why do you blush so? Cel Do you not understand? of this, this Cordial. Val O my afflicted heart: she is gone for ever. Fra What heaven have ye brought me lady? Cel Do not wonder: For 'tis no impudence, nor want of honour Makes me do this: but love to save your life, Sir, Your life too excellent to lose in wishes, Love, vertuous love. Fra A vertuous blessing crown ye, O goodly sweet, can there be so much charity So noble a compassion in that heart That's fill'd up with anothers fair affections? Can mercy drop from those eyes? Can miracles be wrought upon a dead man, When all the power ye have, and perfect object Lyes in anothers light, and his deserves it? Cel Do not despair: nor do not think too boldly, I dare abuse my promise, 'twas your friends An so fast tyed, I thought no time could ruin: But so much has your danger, and that spell The powerful name of friend, prevail'd above him To whom I ever owe obedience, That here I am, by his command to cure ye, Nay more for ever, by his full resignment, And willingly I ratifie it. Fra Hold for Heaven sake, Must my friends misery make me a triumph? Bear I that noble name, to be a Traitor? O vertuous goodness, keep thy self untainted: You have no power to yield, nor he to render, Nor I to take: I am resolv'd to die first. Val Ha! saist thou so? nay then thou shalt not perish. Fra And though I love ye above the light shines on me, Beyond the wealth of Kingsoms, free content, Sooner would snatch at such a blessing offer'd Than at my pardon'd life by the law forfeited, Yet, yet O noble Beauty, yet O Paradise For you are all the wonder reveal'd of it, Yet is a gratitude to be preserv'd, A worthy gratitude to one most worthy The name, and nobleness of friends. Cel Pray tell me If I had never known that Gentleman, Would not you willingly embrace my offer? Fra Do you make a doubt? Cel And can ye be unwilling He being old and impotent? his aim too Levell'd at you, for your good? not constrain'd, But out of cure, and counsel? Alas consider, Play but the Woman with me, and consider As he himself does, and I now dare see it, Truly consider, Sir, what misery. Fra For vertues sake take heed, Cel What loss of youth, What everlasting banishment from that Our years do only covet to arrive at, Equal affections aim'd and shot together: What living name can dead age leave behind him, What art of memory but fruitless doating? Fra This cannot be. Cel To you unless ye apply it With more and firmer faith, and so digest it, I speak but of things possible, not done Nor like to be, a Posset cures your sickness, And yet I know ye grieve this; and howsoever The worthiness of friend may make ye stagger, Which is a fair thing in ye, yet my Patient, My gentle Patient, I would fain say more If you would understand. Val O cruel Woman. Cel Yet sure your sickness is not so forgetful, Nor you so willing to be lost. Fra Pray stay there: Me thinks you are not fair now; me thinks more, That modest vertue, men delivered of you, Shews but like shadow to me, thin, and fading. Val Excellent friend. Fra Ye have no share in goodness: Ye are belyed; you are not Cellide, The modest, immaculate: who are ye? For I will know: what Devil, to do mischief Unto my vertuous friend, hath shifted shapes With that unblemished beauty? Cel Do not rave, Sir, Nor let the violence of thoughts distract ye, You shall enjoy me: I am yours: I pity By those fair eyes I do. Fra O double hearted! O Woman, perfect Woman! what distraction Was meant to mankind when thou was't made a Devil? What an inviting Hell invented? tell me, And if you yet remember what is goodness, Tell me by that, and truth, can one so cherish'd So sainted in the soul of him, whose service Is almost turn'd to superstition, Whose every day endeavours and desires Offer themselves like Incense on your Altar, Whose heart holds no intelligence, but holy And most Religious with his love; whose life (And let it ever be remembered Lady) is drawn out only for your ends. Val O miracle!! Fra Whose all, and every part of man: pray make me Like ready Pages wait upon your pleasures; Whose breath is but your bubble. Can ye, dare ye, Must ye cast off this man, though he were willing, Though in a nobleness, so cross my danger His friendship durst confirm it, without baseness, Without the stain of honour? shall not people Say liberally hereafter, there's the Lady That lost her Father, friend, herself, her faith too, To fawn upon a stranger, for ought you know As faithless as yourself, in love as fruitless. Val Take her with all my heart, thou art so honest That 'tis most necessary I be undone. Speech prefix wrong in Q, F2; corrected here [Cel] With all my soul possess her. Exit Val. Cel Till this minute, I scorn'd, and hated ye, and came to cozen ye: Utter'd those things might draw a wonder on me, To make ye mad. Fra Good Heaven, what is this Woman? Cel Nor did your danger, but in charity, Move me a whit: nor you appear unto me More than a common object; yet now truly, Truly, and nobly I do love ye dearly, And from this hour ye are the man I honour, You are the man, the excellence, the honesty, The only friend, and I am glad your sickness Fell so most happily at this time on ye, To make this truth the worlds. Fra Whither do you drive me? Cel Back to your honesty, make that good ever, 'Tis like a strong built Castle, seated high, That draws on all ambitions, still repair it, Still fortifie it: there are thousand foes Besides the Tyrant Beauty, will assail it: Look to your Centinels that watch it hourly, Your eyes, let them not wander. Fra Is this serious? Or does she play still with me? Cel Keep your ears, The two main Ports that may betray ye, strongly From light belief first, then from flattery, Especially where Woman beats the parley: The body of your strength, your noble heart From ever yielding to dishonest ends, Rig'd round about with vertue, that no breaches, No subtil minds may meet ye. Fra How like the Sun Labouring in his Eclipse, dark, and prodigious, She shew'd still now? when having won her way, How full of wonder he breaks out again, And sheds his vertuous beams: excellent Angel, For no less can that heavenly mind proclaim thee, Honour of all thy sex, let it be lawful, And like a Pilgrim thus I kneel to beg it, Not with prophane lips now, nor burnt affections, But, reconcil'd to faith, with holy wishes, To kiss that virgin hand. Cel Take your desire, Sir, And in a nobler way, for I dare trust ye, No other fruit my love must ever yield ye, I fear no more: yet your most constant memory (So much I am wedded to that worthiness) Shall ever be my Friend, Companion, Husband. Farewel, and fairly govern your affections, Stand, and deceive me not: O noble young man, I love thee with my soul, but dare not say it: Once more farewel, and prosper. Exit. Fra Goodness guide thee: My wonder like to fearful shapes in dreams, Has wakened me out of my fit of folly, But not to shake it off: a spell dwells in me, A hidden charm shot from this beauteous Woman, That fate can ne'r avoid, nor Physick find, And by her counsel strengthen'd: only this Is all the help I have, I love fair vertue, Well, something I must do, to be a friend, Yet I am poor, and tardy: something for her too Though I can never reach her excellence, Yet but to give an offer at a greatness. Enter Valentine, Thomas, Hylas, and Sam. Val Be not uncivil Tom, and take your pleasure. Tho Do you think I am mad? you'l give me leave To try her fairly? Val Do your best. Tho Why there Boy, But where's the sick man? Hyl Where are the Gentlewomen That should attend him? there's the Patient. Me thinks these Women -- Tho Thou think'st nothing else. Val Go to him friend, and comfort him: I'le lead ye: O my best joy, my worthiest friend, pray pardon me, I am so over-joy'd I want expression: I may live to be thankful:bid your friends welcome. Exit Val. Tho How do'st thou Frank? how do'st thou Boy? bear up man: What, shrink i'th' sinews for a little sickness? Deavolo morte. Fra I am o'th' mending hand. Tho How like a Flute thou speak'st: o'th' mending hand man? Gogs bores, I am well, speak like a man of worship. Fran Thou art a mad companion: never staid Tom. Tho Let Rogues be staid that have no habitation, A Gentleman may wander: sit thee down Frank, And see what I have brought thee: come discover, Open the Scene, and let the work appear. A friend at need you Rogue is worth a million. Fra What hast thou there, a julip? Hyl He must not touch it, 'Tis present death. Tho Ye are Ass, a twirepipe, A Jeffery John bo peepe, thou mimister, Thou mend a left-handed pack-saddle, out puppey, My friend Frank, but a very foolish fellow: Do'st thou see that Bottle? view it well. Fran I do Tom. Tho There be as many lives in't, as a Cat carries, 'Tis everlasting liquor. Fran What? Tho Old Sack, Boy, Old reverend Sack, which for ought that I can read yet, Was that Philosophers stone the wise King Ptolomeus Did all his wonders by. Fran I see no harm Tom, Drink with a moderation. Tho Drink with suger, Which I have ready here, and here a glass boy, Take me without my tools. Sam Pray Sir be temperate, You know your own state best. FRa Sir, I much thank ye, And shall be careful: yet a glass or two So fit I find my body, and that so needful. Tho Fill it, and leave your fooling: thou say'st true Frank. Hyl Where are these Women I say? Tho 'Tis most necessary, Hang up your Julips and your Portugal Possets, Your barley Broths, and sorrel Sops, they are mangy, And breed the Scratches only: give me Sack: I wonder where this wench is though: have at thee. Hyl So long, and yet no bolting? Fra Do , I'le pledge thee. Tho Take it off thrice, and then cry heigh like a Huntsman With a clear heart, and no more fits I warrant thee. The only Cordial, Frank. Phys. and Serv. within. 1 Phy. Are the things ready? And is the Barber come? Serv An hour ago, Sir. 1 Phys Bring out the Oyls then. Fran Now or never Gentlemen, Do me a kindness and deliver me. Tho From whom boy? Fra From these things, that talk within there, Physicians, Tom, Physicians, scowring-sticks, They mean to read upon me, Enter three Phys. Apoth. and Barber. Hyl Let 'em enter. Tho And be thou confident, we will deliver thee: For look ye Doctor, say the Devil were sick now, His horns saw'd off, and his head bound with a Biggin, Sick of a Calenture, taken by a Surfeit Of stinking souls at his Nephews, and St Dunstans, What would you minister upon the sudden? Your judgment short and sound. 1 Phy A fools head. Tho No Sir, It must be a Physicians for three causes, The first because it is a bald-head likely, Which will down easily without Applepap. 3 Phy A main cause. Tho So it is, and well consider'd. The second, for 'tis fill'd with broken Greek, Sir, Which will so tumble in his stomach, Doctor, And work upon the crudities, conceive me, The fears, and the fiddle-strings within it, That those damn'd souls must disembogue again. Hyl Or meeting with the stygian humour. Tho Right, Sir. Hyl Forc'd with a Cataplasm of Crackers. Tho Ever. Hyl Scowre all before him, like a Scavenger. Tho Satisfecisti domine, my last cause, My last is, and not least, most learned Doctors, Because in most Physicians heads (I mean those That are most excellent, and old withal, And angry, though a Patient say his prayers, And Paracelsians that do trade with poisons, We have it by tradition of great writers) There is a kind of Toad-stone bred, whose vertue The Doctor being dri'd. 1 Phy We are abus'd sirs. Hyl I take it so, or shall be, for say the Belly-ake Caus'd by an inundation of Pease-porridge, Are we therefore to open the port Vein, Or the port Esquiline? Sam A learned question: Or grant the Diaphragma by a Rupture, The sign being then in the head of Capricorn. Tho Meet with the passion Huperchondriaea, And so cause a Carnosity in the Kidneyes. Must not the brains, being butter'd with this humour -- Answer me that. Sam Most excellently argued. 2 Phy The next fit your will have, my most fine Scholar, Bedlam shall find a Salve for: fare ye well Sir, We came to do you good, but these young Doctors It seems have bor'd our Noses. 3 Phy Drink hard Gentlemen, And get unwholesome drabs: 'tis ten to one then We shall hear further from ye, your note alter'd. Exeunt. Tho And wilt thou be gone, saies one? Hyl And wilt thou be gone, saies t'other? Tho Then take the odd crown To mend thy old Gown. Sam And we'l be gone all together. Fra My learned Tom. Enter Servant. Ser Sir, the young Gentlewomen Sent me to see what company ye had with ye, They much desire to visit ye. Fra Pray ye thank 'em, And tell 'em my most sickness is their absence: Ye see my company. Tho Come hither Crab, What Gentlewomen are these? my Mistris? Ser Yes Sir, Hyl And who else? Ser Mistress Alice. Hyl Oh! Tho Hark ye sirrah, No word of my being here, unless she know it. Ser I do not think she does. Tho Take that, and mum then. Ser You have ty'd my tongue up. Exit. Tho Sit you down good Francis, And not a word of me till ye hear from me, And as you find my humour, follow it: You two come hither, and stand close, unseen Boys, And do as I shall tutor ye. Fran What, new work? Tho Prethee no more but help me now. Hyl I would fain talk With the Gentlewomen. Tho Talk with the Gentlewomen? Of what forsooth? whose Maiden-head the last Mask Suffer'd impression? or whose Clyster wrought best? Take me as I shall tell thee. Hyl To what end? What other end came we along? Sam Be rul'd though. Tho Your weasel face must needs be ferretting About the Farthing-ale; Do as I bid ye, Or by this light -- Hyl Come then. Thom Stand close and mark me. Fran All this forc'd foolery will never do it. Enter Alice and Mary. Ali I hope we bring ye health, Sir: how is't with ye? Ma You look far better trust me, the fresh colour Creeps now again into his cheeks. Ali Your enemy I see has done his worst. Come, we must have ye Lusty again, and frolick man; leave thinking. Ma Indeed it does ye harm, Sir. Fran My best visitants, I shall be govern'd by ye. Ali You shall be well then, And suddenly, and soundly well. Ma This Air, Sir, Having now season'd ye, will keep ye ever. Tho No, no, I have no hope, nor is it fit friends, My life has been so lewd, my loose condition, Which I repent too late, so lamentable, That any thing but curses light upon me, Exorbitant in all my wayes. Ali Who's that, sir, Another sick man? Ma Sure I know that voice well, Tho In all my courses, careless disobedience. Fran What a strange fellow's this? Tho No counsel friends, No look before I leapt. Ali Do you know the voyce, Sir? Fra Yes, 'tis a Gentlemans that's much afflicted In's mind: great pity Ladies. Ali Now heaven help him. Fra He came to me, to ask free pardon of me, For some things done long since, which his distemper Made to appear like wrong, but 'twas not so. Ma O that this could be truth. Hyl Perswade your self. Tho To what end Gentlemen, when all is perish'd Upon a wrack, is there a hope remaining? The Sea, that ne'r knew sorrow, may be pitiful, My credit's split, and sunk, nor is it possible, Were my life lengthened out as long as -- Ma I like this well. Sam Your mind is too mistrustful. Tho I have a vertuous Sister, but I scorn'd her, A Mistris too, a noble Gentlewoman, For goodness all out-going. Alice Now I know him. Tho With these eyes friends, my eyes must never see more. Alice This is for your sake Mary: take heed Cousin, A man is not so soon made. Tho O my fortune! But it is just, I be despis'd and hated. Hyl Despair not, 'tis not manly: one hours goodness Strikes off an infinite of ills. Alice Weep truly And with compassion, Cousin. Fra How exactly, This cunning young Thief playes his part! Ma Well Tom, My Tom again, if this be truth. Hyl She weeps Boy. Tho O I shall die. Ma Now Heaven defend. Sam Thou hast her. Tho Come lead me to my Friend to take his farewel, And then what fortune shall befal me, welcome, How does it show? Hyl O rarely well. Ma Say you so, Sir. Fra O ye grand Ass. Ma And are ye there my Juggler? Away we are abus'd, Alice. Alice Fool be with thee. Exit Mary and Alice. Tho Where is she. Fra Gone; she found you out, and finely, In your own noose she halter'd ye: you must be whispering To know how things shew'd: not content to fare well But you must roar out roast-meat; till that suspicion You carried it most neatly, she believed too And wept most tenderly; had you continu'd, Without doubt you had brought her off. Tho This was thy Roguing, For thou wert ever whispering: fye upon thee Now could I break thy head. Hyl You spoke to me first. Tho Do not anger me, For by this hand I'le beat the buzard blind then. She shall not scape me thus: farewel for this time. Fra Good night, 'tis almost bed time: yet no sleep Must enter these, till I work a wonder. Exit. Tho Thou shalt along too, for I mean to plague thee For this nights sins, I will never leave walking of thee Till I have worn thee out. Hyl Your will be done, Sir. Tho You will not leave me, Sam. Sam Not I. Tho Away then: I'le be your guide now, if my man be trusty, My spightful Dame, I'le pipe ye such a hunsup Shall make ye dance a tipvaes: keep close to me. Exeunt. FleMTho3.2 SCENE II Enter Sebastian, and Dorothy. Seb Never perswade me, I will marry again, What should I leave my state to, Pins and Poaking-sticks, To Farthingals, and frownces? to fore-horses And an old Leather Bawdy house behind 'em. To thee? Dor You have a Son, Sir. Seb Where, what is he? Who is he like? Dor Your self. Seb Thou lyest, thou hast marr'd him, Thou, and thy prayer books: I do disclaim him: Did not I take him singing yesternight, A godly Ballad, to a godly tune too, And had a Catechism in's pocket, Damsel, One of your dear disciples, I perceive it? When did he ride abroad since he came over? What Tavern has he us'd to ? what things done That shews a man, and mettle? when was my house At such a shame before, to creep to bed At ten a clock, and twelve, for want of company? No singing, nor no dancing, nor no drinking? Thou think'st not of these scandals; when, and where Has be but shew'd his sword of late? For Despair not I do beseech you, Sir, nor tempt your weakness, For if you like it so, I can assure you He is the same man still. Seb Would thou wert ashes On that condition; but believe it Gossip You shall know you have wrong'd. Dor You never, Sir, So well I know my duty: and for Heaven sake, Take but this counsel with ye ere you marry, You were wont to hear me: take him, and confess him, Search him to the quick, and if you find him false, Do as you please, a Mothers name I honour. Seb He is lost, and spoil'd, I am resolv'd my roof Shall never harbour him: and for you Minion I'le keep you close enough, lest you break loose, And do more mischief; get ye in: who waits? Exit Dor. Enter Servant. Ser Do you call, Sir? Seb Seek the Boy: and bid him wait My pleasure in the morning: mark what house He is in, and what he does: and truly tell me. Ser I will not fail, Sir. Seb If ye do, I'le hang ye. Exeunt. FleMTho3.3 SCENE III. Enter Thomas, Hylas, and Sam. Tho Keep you the back door there, and be sure None of her servants enter, or go out, If any Woman pass, she is lawful prize, Boys, Cut off all convoyes. Hyl Who shall answer this? Tho Why, I shall answer it, you fearful widgeon, I shall appear to th' action. Hyl May we discourse too, On honourable terms? Tho With any Gentlewoman That shall appear at window: ye may rehearse too By your commission safely, some sweet parcels Of Poetry to a Chamber-maid. Hyl May we sing too? For there's my master-piece. Tho By no means, no Boys, I am the man reserv'd for Air, 'tis my part, And if she be not rock, my voyce shall reach her: You may record a little, or ye may whistle, As time shall minister, but for main singing, Pray ye satisfie your selves: away, be careful. Hyl But hark ye, one word Tom, we may be beaten. Tho That's as ye think good your selves: if you deserve it, Why 'tis the easiest thing to compass: beaten? What Bugbears dwell in thy brains? who should beat thee? Hyl She has men enough. Tho Art thou not man enough too? Thou hast flesh enough about thee: if all that mass Will not maintain a little spirit, hang it, And dry it too for dogs-meat: get you gone; I have things of moment in my mind: that door, Keep it as thou would'st keep thy Wife from a Servingman. No more I say: away, Sam. Sam At your will, Sir Exeunt Hylas and Sam. Enter Launcelot, and Fidler. Lan I have him here, a rare Rogue, good sweet Master, Do something of some savour suddenly, That we may eat, and live: I am almost starv'd, No point manieur, no point devein, no Signieur, Not by the vertue of my languages, Nothing at my old masters to be hoped for, O Signieur du, nothing to line my life with, But cold Pyes with a cudgel, till you help us. Tho Nothing but famine frights thee: come hither Fidler, What Ballads are you seen in best? be short Sir. Fidler Under you masterships correction, I can sing The Duke of Norfolk, or the merry Ballad Of Diverus and Lazarus, the Rose of England, In Creet when Dedimus first began, Jonas his crying out against Coventry. Tho Excellent Rare matters all. Fid Mawdlin the Merchants Daughter, The Devil, and ye dainty Dames. Tom Rare still. Fid The landing of the Spaniards at Bow, With the bloudy battel at Mile-end. Tho All excellent: No tuning as ye love me; let thy Fidle Speak Welch, or any thing that's out of all tune, The vilder still the better, like thy self, For I presume thy voice will make no trees dance. Fid Nay truly, ye shall have it ev'n as homely. Tho Keep ye to that key, are they all abed trow? Laun I hear no stirring any where, no light In any window, 'tis a night for the nonce Sir. Tho Come strike up then and say the Merchants daughter, We'l bear the burthen: proceed to incision Fidler. Song. Enter Servant, above. Ser Who's there? what noise is this? what rogue At these hours? Thom O what is that to you my fool? O what is that to you, Pluck in your face you bawling Ass, Or I will break your brow. Hey down, down, down, A new Ballad, a new, a new. Fid The twelfth of April, on May day, My house and goods were burnt away, &c. Maids above. Maid Why who is this? Lau O damsel dear, Open the door, and it shall appear, Open the door, O gentle squire. Maid I'le see thee hang'd first: farewel my dear, 'Tis master Thomas, there he stands. Enter Mary above. Mary 'Tis strange That nothing can redeem him: rail him hence, Or sing him out in's own way, any thing To be deliver'd of him Maid Then have at him: My man Thomas did me promise. He would visit me this night. Tho I am here Love, tell me dear Love, How I may obtain thy sight. Maid Come up to my window love, come, come, come, Come to my window my dear, The wind, nor the rain shall trouble thee again, But thou shalt be lodged here. Thom And art thou strong enough? Lan Up, up, I warrant ye. Mary What do'st thou mean to do? Maid Good Mistress peace, I'le warrant ye we'l cool him: Madge. Madge above. Madge I am ready. Tho The love of Greece, and it tickled him so, That he devised a way to goe. Now sing the Duke of Northumberland. Fidler And climbing to promotion, He fell down suddenly. Madge with a Devils vizard. roaring, offers to kiss him, and he falls down. Maid Farewel Sir. Mary What hast thou done? thou hast broke his neck. Maid Not hurt him, He pitcht upon his legs like a Cat. Tho O woman: O miserable woman, I am spoil'd, My leg, my leg, my leg, oh both my legs! Mary I told thee what thou hadst done, mischief go with thee. Tho O I am lam'd for ever: O my leg, Broken in twenty places: O take heed, Take heed of women, Fidler: oh a Surgeon, A Surgeon or I dye: oh my good people, No charitable people, all despightfull, Oh what a misery am I in! oh my leg. Laun Be patient Sir, be patient: let me bind it. Enter Samuel, and Hylas, with his head broken. Tho Oh do not touch it rogue. Hyl My head, my head, Oh my head's kill'd. Sam You must be courting wenches Through key-holes, Captain Hylas, come and be comforted, The skin is scarce broke. Tho O my leg. Sam How do ye Sir? Tho Oh maim'd for ever with a fall, he's spoil'd too, I see his brains. Hyl Away with me for Gods sake, A Surgeon. Sam Here's a night indeed. Hyl A Surgeon. Ex. all but Fidler. Enter Mary and Servant below. Mary Go run for help. Tho Oh. Mary Run all, and all too little, O cursed beast that hurt him, run, run, flye, He will be dead else. Tho Oh. Mary Good friend go you too. Fid Who pays me for my Musick? Mary Pox o' your Musick, There's twelve pence for ye. Fid There's two groats again forsooth, I never take above, and rest ye merry. Exit. Ma A grease pot guild your fidle strings: how do you, How is my dear? Tom Why well I thank ye sweet heart, Shall we walk in, for now there's none to trouble us? Ma Are ye so crafty, Sir? I shall meet with ye, I knew your trick, and I was willing: my Tom, Mine own Tom, now to satisfie thee, welcom, welcom, Welcom my best friend to me, all my dearest. Tom Now ye are my noble Mistress: we lose time sweet. Ma I think they are all gone. Tom All, ye did wisely. Ma And you as craftily. Tom We are well met Mistress. Ma Come, let's goe in then lovingly: O my Skarf Tom. I lost it thereabout, find it, and wear it As your poor Mistress favour. Exit. Tom I am made now, I see no venture is in no hand: I have it, How now? the door lock't, and she in before? Am I so trim'd? Ma One parting word sweet Thomas, Though to save your credit, I discharg'd your Fidler, I must not satisfie your folly too Sir, Ye'are subtle, but believe it Fox, I'le find ye, The Surgeons will be here straight, roar again boy, And break thy legs for shame, thou wilt be sport else, Good night. Tom She saies most true, I must not stay: she has bob'd me, Which if I live, I'le recompence, and shortly, Now for a Ballad to bring me off again. All young men be warn'd by me, how you do goe a wooing. Seek not to climb, for fear ye fall, thereby comes your undoing, &c. Exeunt. FleMTho4.1 ACTUS QUARTUS SCENA PRIMA Enter Valentine, Alice, and Servant. Val He cannot goe and take no farewel of me, Can he be so unkind? he's but retir'd Into the Garden or the Orchard: see Sirs. Ali He would not ride there certain, those were planted Only for walks I take it. Val Ride? nay then, Had he a horse out? Ser So the Groom delivers Somewhat before the break of day. Val He's gone, My best friend's gone Alice; I have lost the nobleest, The truest, and the most man I e're found yet. Alice Indeed Sir, he deserves all praise. Val All Sister, All, all, and all too little: O that honesty, That ermine honesty, unspotted ever, That perfect goodness. Alice Sure he will return Sir, He cannot be so harsh. Val O never, never, Never return, thou know'st not where the cause lyes. Alice He was the worthiest welcom. Val He deserv'd it. Alice Nor wanted, to our knowledge. Val I will tell thee, Within this hour, things that shall startle thee, He never must return. Enter Michael. Mich Good morrow Signieur. Val Good morrow Master Michael. Mich My good neighbour, Me thinks you are stirring early since your travel, You have learn'd the rule of health sir, where's your mistress? She keeps her warm I warrant ye, i'bed yet? Val I think she does, Alice 'Tis not her hour of waking. Mich Did you lye with her, Lady? Alice Not to night Sir, Nor any night this week else. Mich When last saw ye her? Alice Late yesternight. Mich Was she 'bed then? Alice No Sir, I left her at her prayers: why do ye ask me? Mich I have been strangely haunted with a dream All this long night, and after many wakings, The same dream still; me thought I met young Cellide Just at [S.] Saint Katherines gate the Nunnery. Val Ha? Mic Her face slubber'd o're with tears, and troubles, Me thought she cry'd unto the Lady Abbess, For charity receive me holy woman, A Maid that has forgot the worlds affections, Into they virgin order: me thought she took her, Put on a Stole, and sacred robe upon her, And there I left her. Val Dream? Mich Good Mistress Alice Do me the favour (yet to satisfie me) To step but up, and see. Alice I know she's there Sir, And all this but a dream. Mich You know not my dreams, They are unhappy ones, and often truths, But this I hope, yet. Alice I will satisfie ye. Exit. Mich Neighbours, how does the Gentleman? Val I know not, Dream of a Nunnery? Mich How found ye my words About the nature of his sickness Valentine? Val Did she not cry out, 'twas my folly too That forc'd her to this nunnery? did she not curse me? For God sake speak: did you not dream of me too, How basely, poorly, tamely, like a fool, Tir'd with his joyes? Mich Alas poor Gentleman, Ye promis'd me Sir to bear all these crosses. Val I bear 'em till I break again. Mich But nobly, Truly to weigh. Val Good neighbours, nor more of it, Ye do but fling flax on my fire: where is she? Enter Alice. Ali Not yonder Sir, nor has not this night certain Been in her bed. Mich It must be truth she tells ye, And now I'le shew ye why I came: this morning A man of mine being employed about business, Came early home, who at [S.] Saint Katherines Nunnery, About day peep, told me he met your Mistress, And as I spoke it in a dream, so troubled And so received by the Abbess, did he see her, The wonder made me rise, and hast unto ye To know the cause. Val Farewel, I cannot speak it. Exit Val. Alice For Heaven sake leave him not. Mich I will not Lady. Alice Alas, he's much afflicted, Mich We shall know shortly more, apply your own care At home good Alice, and trust him to my counsel, Nay, do not weep, all shall be well, despair not. Exeunt. FleMTho4.2 SCENA II Enter Sebastian, and a Servant. Seb At Valentines house so merry? Ser As a pie Sir. Seb So gamesom dost thou say? Ser I am sure I heard it. Seb Ballads, and Fidles too? Ser No, but one Fidle; But twenty noyses. Enter Launcelot. Seb Did he do devises? Ser The best devises Sir: here's my fellow Launcelot He can inform ye all: he was among 'em, A mad thing too: I stood but in a corner. Seb Come Sir, what can you say? is there any hope yet. Your Master may return? Laun He went far else, I will assure your worship on my credit By the faith of a Travellor, and a Gentleman, Your son is found again, the son, the Tom. Seb Is he the old Tom? Laun The old Tom. Seb Go forward. Laun Next, to consider how he is the old Tom. Seb Handle me that. Laun I would ye had seen it handled Last night Sir, as we handled it: cap a pe, Footra for leers, and learings; O the noise, The noise we made. Seb Good, good. Lan The windows clattering And all the Chambermaids in such a whobub, One with her smock half off, another in hast With a serving mans hose upon her head. Seb Good still. Lan A fellow railing out of a loop-hole there, And his mouth stopt with durt. Seb I' faith a fine Boy. Lan Here one of our heads broke. Seb Excellent good still. Lan The Gentleman himself, young [M.] Master Thomas, Inviron'd with his furious Myrmidons, The fiery Fidler, and my self; now singing, Now beating at the door, there parlying, Courting at that window, at the other scalling And all these several noises to two Trenchers, Strung with a bottom of brown thred, which show'd admirable. Seb There eat, and grow again, I am pleas'd. Lan Nor here Sir, Gave we the frolick over: though at length We quit the Ladies Skonce on composition; But to the silent streets we turn'd our furies: A sleeping watchman here we stole the shooes from, There made a noise, at which he wakes, and follows; The streets are durty, takes a queen-hith cold, Hard cheese, and that choaks him o' Munday next: Windows, and signs we sent to Erebus; A crew of bawling curs we entertain'd last, When having let the pigs loose in out parishes, O the brave cry we made as high as Algate! Down comes a Constable, and the Sow his Sister Most traiterously tramples upon Authority, There a whole stand of rug gowns rowted manly And the Kings peace put to flight: a purblind pig here Runs me his head into the Admirable Lanthorn, Out goes the light, and all turns to confusion: A potter rises, to enquire this passion, A Boar imbost takes sanctuary in his shop, When twenty dogs rush after, we still cheering, Down goe the pots, and pipkins, down the pudding pans, The cream-bolls cry revenge here, there the candlesticks, Seb If this be true, thou little tyney page, This tale that thou tell'st me, Then on thy back will I presently hang A handsom new Livery: But if this be false, thou little tyney page As false it well may be, Then with a cudgel of four foot long Ile beat thee from head to toe. Enter Servant. Seb Will the boy come? Ser He will Sir. Enter Thomas. Seb Time tries all then. Lan Here he comes now himself Sir. Seb To be short Thomas, Because I feel a scruple in my conscience Concerning thy demeanour, and a main one, And therefore like a Father would be satisfi'd, Get up to that window there, and presently Like a most compleat Gentleman, come from Tripoly. Tom Good Lord Sir, how are you misled: what fancies (Fitter for idle boys, and drunkards, let me speak't, And with a little wonder I beseech [ou] you) Choak up your noble judgement? Seb You Rogue Launcelot, You lying Rascal. Lan Will ye spoil all again Sir. Why, what a Devil do you mean? Tom Away knave, Ye keep a company of sawcy fellows, Debosh'd, and daily drunkards, to devour ye, Things whose dull souls, tend to the Celler only, Ye are ill advis'd Sir, to commit your credit. Seb Sirrah, Sirrah Lan Let me never eat again Sir, Nor feel the blessing of another blew-coat, If this young Gentleman, sweet Master Thomas, Be not as mad as heart can wish: your heart Sir, If yesternights discourse: speak fellow Robin, And if thou speakest less than truth. Tom 'Tis strange these varlets. Ser By these ten bones Sir, if these eyes, and ears Can hear and see. Tom Extream strange, should thus boldly Bud in your sight, unto your son. Lan O deu guin Can ye deny, ye beat a Constable Last night? Tom I touch Authoritie, ye Rascal? I violate the Law? Lan Good Master Thomas. Ser Did you not take two wenches from the watch too And put 'em into pudding lane? Lan We mean not Those civil things you did at [M.] Master Valentines, The Fiddle, and the fa'las. Tom O strange impudence! I do beseech you Sir give no such licence To knaves and drunkards, to abuse your son thus: Be wise in time, and turn 'em off: we live Sir In a State govern'd civilly, and soberly, Where each mans actions should confirm the Law, Not crack, and cancel it. Seb Lancelot du Lake, Get you upon adventures: cast your coat And make your exit. Lan Pur Lamour de dieu. Seb Pur me no purs: but pur at that door, out Sirrah, I'le beat ye purblind else, out ye eight languages. Lan My bloud upon your head. Exit Lan. Tom Purge me 'em all Sir. Seb And you too presently. Tom Even as you please Sir. Seb Bid my maid servant come, and bring my Daughter, I will have one shall please me. Exit servant. Tom 'Tis most fit Sir. Seb Bring me the mony there: here [M.] Master Thomas. Enter two Servants with two bags. I pray sit down, ye are no more my son now, Good Gentleman be cover'd. Tom At your pleasure. Seb This mony I do give ye, because of whilom You have been thought my son, and by my self too, And some things done like me: ye are now another: There is two hundred pound, a civil summe For a young civil man: much land and Lordship Will as I take it now, but prove temptation To dread ye from your setled, and sweet carriage. Tom You say right Sir. Seb Nay I beseech ye cover. Tom At your dispose: and I beseech ye too Sir, For the word civil, and more setled course It may but put to use, that on the interest Like a poor Gentleman. Seb It shall, to my use, To mine again: do you see Sir: good fine Gentleman, I give no brooding mony for a Scrivener, Mine is for present traffick, and so I'le use it. Tom So much for that then. Enter Dorothy, and four Maids. Seb For the main cause Monsieur, I sent to treat with you about, behold it; Behold that piece of story work, and view it. I want a right heir to inherit Me, Not my estate alone, but my conditions, From which you are revolted, therefore dead, And I will break my back, but I will get one. Tom Will you choose there Sir? Seb There, among those Damsels, In mine own tribe: I know their qualities Which cannot fail to please me: for their beauties A matter of a three farthings, makes all perfect, A little beer, and beef broth: they are sound too. Stand all a breast: now gentle [M.] Master Thomas Before I choose, you having liv'd long with me, And happily sometimes with some of these too, Which fault I never frown'd upon; pray shew me (For fear we confound our Genealogies) Which have you laid aboord? speak your mind freely, Have you had copulation with that Damsel? Tom I have. Seb Stand you aside then: how with her Sir? Tom How, is not seemly here to say. Dor Here's fine sport. Seb Retire you too: Speak forward [M.] Master Thomas. Tom I will : and to the purpose; even with all Sir. Seb With all? that's somewhat large. Dor And yet you like it. Was ever sin so glorious? Seb With all Thomas? Tom All surely Sir. Seb A sign thou art mine own yet, In again all: and to your several functions. Ex. Maids. What say you to young Luce, my neighbours Daughter, She was too young I take it, when you travel'd; Some twelve years old? Tom Her will was fifteen Sir. Seb A pretty answer, to cut off long discourse, For I have many yet to ask ye of, Where I can choose, and nobly, hold up your finger, When ye are right: what say ye to Valeria Whose husband lies a dying now? why two, And in that form? Tom Her husband is recover'd. Seb A witty moral: have at ye once more Thomas, The Sisters of [St.] Saint Albons, all five; dat boy, Dat's mine own boy. Dor Now out upon thee Monster. tom Still hoping of your pardon. Seb There needs none man: A straw on pardon: prethee need no pardon: I'le aske no more, nor think no more of marriage, For o' my conscience I shall be thy Cuckold: There's some good yet left in him: bear your self well, You may recover me, there's twenty pound Sir, I see some sparkles which may flame again, You may eat with me when you please, you know me. Exit Seb. Dor Why do you lye so damnably, so foolishly? Tom Do'st thou long to have thy head broke? hold thy peace And do as I would have thee, or by this hand I'le kill thy Parrat, hang up thy small hand, And drink away they dowry to a penny. Dor Was ever such a wilde Asse? Tom Prethee be quiet. Dor And do'st thou think men will not beat thee monstrously For abusing their wives and children? Tom And do'st thou think Mens wives and children can be abus'd too much? Dor I wonder at thee. Tom Nay, thou shalt adjure me Before I have done. Dor How stand ye with your mistress? Tom I shall stand nearer E're I be twelve hours older: there's my business She is monstrous subtile Dol. Dol The Devil I think Cannot out-subtile thee. Tom If he play fair play, Come, you must help me presently. Dor I discard ye. Tom Thou shalt not sleep nor eat. Dor I'le no hand with ye, No bawd to your abuses. Tom By this light Dol, Nothing but in the way of honesty. Dor Thou never knew'st that road: I hear your vigils. Tom Sweet honey Dol, if I do not marry her, Honestly marry her, if I mean not honourably, Come, thou shalt help me, take heed how you vex me, I'le help thee to a husband too, a fine Gentleman, I know thou art mad, a tall young man, a brown man, I swear he has his maidenhead, a rich man. Dor You may come in to dinner, and I'le answer ye. Tom Nay I'le go with thee Dol: four hundred a year wench. Exeunt. FleMTho4.3 SCENE III. Enter Michael and Valentine. Mich Good Sir go back again, and take my counsel, Sores are not cur'd by sorrows, nor time broke from us, Pull'd back again by sighs. Val What should I do friend? Mich Do that that may redeem ye, go back quickly, Sebastians Daughter can prevail much with her, The Abbess is her Aunt too. Val But my friend then Whose love and loss is equal ty'd. Mich Content ye, That shall be my task if he be alive, Or where my travel and my care may reach him, I'le bring him back again. Val Say he come back To piece his poor friends life out? and my Mistres Be vow'd for ever a recluse? Mich So suddenly She cannot, hast ye therefore instantly away Sir, To put that Daughter by; first as to a Father, Then as a friend she was committed to ye, And all the care she now has: by which priviledge She cannot do her this violence But you may break it, and the law allows ye. Val O but I forc'd her to it. Mich Leave disputing Against your self, if you will needs be miserable Spight of her goodness and your friends perswasions. Think on, and thrive thereafter. Val I will home then. And follow your advice, and good, good Michael. Mich No more, I know your soul's divided, Valentine, Cure but that part at home with speedy marriage E're my return, for then those thoughts that vext her, While there ran any stream for loose affections, Will be stopt up, and chaste ey'd honour guide her. Away, and hope the best still: I'le work for ye, And pray too heartily, away, no more words. Exeunt. FleMTho4.4 SCENE IV. Enter Hylas, and Samuel. Hyl I care not for my broken head, But that it should be his plot, and a wench too, A lowzie, lazie wench prepar'd to do it. Sam Thou hadst as good be quiet, for o' my conscience He'l put another on thee else. Hyl I am resolv'd To call him to account, was it not manifest He meant a mischief to me, and laughed at me, When he lay roaring out, his leg was broken, And no such matter? had be broke his neck, Indeed 'twould ne'r have griev'd me; gallows gall him. Why should he chuse out me? Sam Thou art ever ready To thrust thy self into these she occasions, And he as full of knavery to accept it. Hyl Well, if I live I'll have a new trick for him. Sam That will not be amiss, but to fight with him Is to no purpose; besides, he's truly valiant, And a most deadly hand; thou never fought'st yet, Nor o' my Conscience hast no faith in fighting. Hyl No, no, I will not fight. Sam Besides the quarrel, Which has a woman in't to make it scurvy, Who would lye stinking in a Surgeons hands, A month or two this weather? for believe it, He never hurts under a quarters healing. Hyl No, upon better thought, I will not fight, Sam, But watch my time. Sam To pay him with a project; Watch him too, I would with ye; prithee tell me, Dost thou affect these women still? Hyl Yes, 'faith Sam, I love 'em ev'n as well as e'r I did, Nay, if my brains were beaten out, I must to 'em. Sam Dost thou love any woman? Hyl Any woman Of what degree or calling. Sam Of any age too? Hyl Of any age, from fourscore to fourteen, Boy, Of any fashion. Sam And defect too? Hyl Right, For those I love to lead me to repentance; A woman with no Nose, after my surquedry, Shews like King Philip's Moral, Memento mori; And she that has a wooden leg, demonstrates Like Hypocrites, we halt before the gallows; An old one with one tooth, seems to say to us, Sweets meats have sowr sauce; she that's full of aches, Crum not your Bread before you taste your Porridge, And many morals we may find. Sam 'Tis well, Sir, Ye make so worthy uses; but quid igitur, What shall we now determine? Hyl Let's consider An hour or two how I may fit this fellow. Sam Let's find him first, he'll quickly give occasion, But take heed to your self, and say I warn'd ye; He has a plaguey pate. Hyl That at my danger. Exeunt. FleMTho4.5 Musick. SCENE V. Enter Saylers singing to them, Michael, and Francis. Sayl Aboard, aboard, the wind stands fair. Mich These call for Passengers, I'll stay and see What men they take aboard. Fran A Boat, a Boat, a Boat. Sayl Away then. Fran Whither are ye bound, Friends? Sayl Down to the Straits. Mich Ha! 'tis not much unlike him. Fran May I have passage for my money. Sayl And welcome too. mich 'Tis he, I know 'tis he now. Fran Then merrily aboard, and noble friend, Heavens goodness keep thee ever, and all vertue Dwell in thy bosome, Cellide, my last tears I leave behind me thus, a sacrifice, For I dare stay no longer to betray ye. Mich Be no so quick, Sir; Saylers I here charge ye By virtue of this Warrant, as you will answer it, For both your Ship and Merchant I know perfectly, Lay hold upon this fellow. Fran Fellow? Mich I, Sir. Sayl No hand to Sword, Sir, we shall master ye, Fetch out the manacles. Fran I do obey ye; But I beseech you, Sir, inform me truly How I am guilty. Mich You have rob'd a Gentleman, One that you are bound to for your life and being; Money and horse unjustly ye took from him, And something of more note, but -- for y'are a Gentleman. Fran It shall be so, and here I'll end all miseries, Since friendship is so cruel, I confess it, And which is more, a hundred of these robberies: This ring I stole too from him, and this jewel, The first and last of all my wealth; forgive me My innocence and truth, for saying I stole 'em, And may they prove of value but to recompence The thousandth part of his love, and bread I have eaten, 'Pray see 'em render'd noble Sir, and so I yield me to your power. Mich Guard him to th' water, I charge you, Saylers, there I will receive him, And back convey him to a Justice. Sayl Come, Sir, Look to your neck, you are like to fail i'th air now. Exeunt. FleMTho4.1 SCENE VI. Enter Thomas, Dorothy, and Maid. Thom Come quickly, quickly, paint me handsomely, Take heed my nose be not in grain too; Come Doll, Doll, disen me. Dor If you should play now Your Devils parts again. Thom Yea and nay, Dorothy. Dor If ye do anything, but that ye have sworn to, Which only is access. Thom As I am a Gentleman; Out with this hair, Doll, handsomely. Dor You have your Breeches? Tom I prithee away, thou know'st, I am monstrous ticklish, What, dost thou think I love to blast my Buttocks? Dor I'll plague ye for this Roguery; for I know well What ye intend, Sir. Thom On with my muffler. Dor Ye are a sweet Lady; come, let's see you courtesie; What, broke i'th bum? hold up your head. Thom Plague on't, I shall bepiss my Breeches if I cowr thus, Come, I am ready. Maid At all points as like. Sir, As if you were my Mistress. Dor Who goes with ye? Thom None but my fortune, and myself. Exit Tho. Dor 'Bless ye: Now run for thy life, and get before him, Take the by-way and tell my Cousin Mary In what shape he intends to come to cozen her; I'll follow at thy heels myself, fly Wench. Maid I'll do it. Exit. Enter Sebastian, and Thomas. Dor My Father has met him; this goes excellent, And I'll away in time; look to your Skin, Thomas. Exit. Seb What are you grown so corn fed, Goody Gillian, You will not know your Father? what vagaries Have you in hand? what out-leaps, durty heels, That at these hours of night ye must be gadding, And through the Orchard take your private passage? What, is the breeze in your Breech? or has your Brother Appointed you an hour of meditation How to demean himself; get ye to bed, drab, Or I'll so crab your Shoulders; ye demure Slut, Ye civil dish of sliced Beef, get ye in. Thom I wi' not, that I wi' not. Seb Is't ev'n so, Dame? Have at ye with a night Spell then. Thom 'Pray hold, Sir. Seb [St.] Saint George, [St.] Saint George, our Ladies Knight, He walks by day, so does he by night, And when he had her found, He her beat, and her bound, Until to him her troth she plight, She would not stir from him that night. Thom Then have at ye with a Counter Spell, From Elves, Hobs, and Fayries, that trouble our Dayries, From Fire-Drakes and Fiends, and such as the Devil sends, Defend us good Heaven. Exit. Enter Launcelot. Laun Bless me master; look up, Sir, I beseech ye, Up with your eyes to heaven. Seb Up with your nose, Sir, I do not bleed, 'twas a sound knock she gave me, A plaguey mankind Girl, how my brains totters? Well, go thy ways, thou hast got one thousand pound more With this dog trick, Mine own true spirit in her too. Laun In her? alas Sir, Alas poor Gentlewoman, she a hand so heavy, To knock ye like a Calf down, or so brave a courage To beat her father? if you could believe, Sir. Seb Who would'st thou make me believe it was, the Devil? Laun One that spits fire as fast as he somtimes, Sir, And changes shapes as often; your Son Thomas; Never wonder, if it be not he, straight hang me. Seb He? if it be so, I'll put thee in my Will, and there's an end on't. Laun I saw his legs, h'as Boots on like a Player, Under his wenches cloaths, 'tis he, 'tis Thomas In his own Sisters Cloaths, Sir, and I can wast him. Seb No more words then, we'll watch him, thou'lt not believe Launce, How heartily glad I am. Laun May ye be gladder, But not this way, Sir. Seb No more words, but watch him. Exeunt. FleMTho4.7 SCENE VII. Enter Mary, Dorothy, and Maid. Mary When comes he? Dor Presently. Mary Then get you up, Doll, Away, I'll straight come to you: is all ready? Maid All. Mary Let the light stand far enough. Maid 'Tis placed so. Mary Stay you to entertain him to his chamber, But keep close, Wench, he flyes at all. Maid I warrant ye. Mary You need no more instruction? Maid I am perfect. Exeunt. FleMTho4.8 SCENE VIII Enter Valentine, and Thomas. Tho More stops yet? sure the fiend's my ghostly father, Old Valentine; what wind's in his poop? Val Lady, You are met most happily; O gentle Doll, You must now do me an especial favour. Tho What is it, master Valentine? I am sorely troubled With a salt rheum faln i' my gums. Val I'll tell ye, And let it move you equally; my blest Mistress, Upon a slight occasion taking anger, Took also (to undo me) your Aunts Nunnery, From whence by my perswasion to redeem her, Will be impossible: nor have I liberty To come and visit her; my good, good Dorothy, You are most powerful with her, and your Aunt too, And have access at all hours liberally, Speak now or never for me. Thom In a Nunnery? That course must not be suffered, Master Valentine, Her Mother never knew it; rare sport for me; Sport upon sport, by th' break of day I'll meet ye, And fear not, Man, we'll have her out I warrant ye, I cannot stay now. Val You will not break? Thom By no means. Good night. Val Good night kind Mistress Doll. Exit. Thom This thrives well, Every one takes me for my Sister, excellent; This Nunnery's faln so pat too, to my figure, Where there be handsome wenches, and they shall know it, If once I creep in, ere they get me out again; Stay, here's the house, and one of her Maids. Enter Maid. Maid Who's there? O Mistress Dorothy! you are a stranger. Thom Still Mistress Dorothy? this geer will cotton. Maid Will you walk in, Forsooth? Thom Where is your Mistress? Maid Not very well; she's gone to bed, I am glad You are come so fit to comfort her. Thom Yes, I'll comfort her. Maid Pray make not much noise, for she is sure asleep, You know your side, creep softly in, your company Will warm her well. Thom I warrant thee I'll warm her. Maid Your Brother has been here, the strangest fellow. Thom A very Rogue, a rank Rogue. Maid I'll conduct ye Even to her Chamber-door, and there commit ye. Exeunt. FleMTho4.9 SCENE IX. Enter Michael, Francis, and Officers. Mich Come Sir, for this night I shall entertain ye, And like a Gentleman, how e'r your fortune Hath cast ye on the worst part. Fran How you please, Sir, I am resolv'd, nor can a joy or misery Much move me now. Mich I am angry with my self now For putting this forc'd way upon his patience, Yet any other course had been too slender: Yet what to think I know not, for most liberally He hath confess'd strange wrongs, which if they prove so, How e'r the others long love may forget all, Yet 'twas most fit he should come back, and this way. Drink that; and now to my care leave your Prisoner, I'll be his guard for this night. Officers Good night to your Worship. Mich Good night, my honest friends; come, Sir, I hope There shall be no such cause of such a sadness As you put on. Fran 'Faith, Sir, my rest is up, And what I now pull shall no more afflict me Than if I plaid at span-Counter, nor is my face The map of anything I seem to suffer, Lighter affections seldom dwell in me, Sir. Mich A constant Gentleman; would I had taken A feaver when I took this harsh way to distrub him. Come, walk with me, Sir, ere tomorrow might I doubt not but to see all this blown over. Exeunt. FleMTho5.1 ACTUS QUINTUS. SCENA PRIMA. Enter Hylas. Hyl I have dog'd his Sister, sure 'twas she, And I hope she will come back again this night too; Sam I have lost of purpose; now if I can With all the art I have, as she comes back, But win a parley for my broken Pate, Off goes her maiden-head, and there's vindicta. They stir about the house, I'll stand at distance. Exit. Enter Mary and Dorothy, and then Thomas and Maid. Dor Is he come in? Mary Speak softly, He is, and there he goes. Thom Good night, good night, Wench. A bed descovered with a Black-moore in it. Maid As softly as you can. Exit. Thom I'll play the mouse, Nan, How close the little thief lies! Mary How he itches? Dor What would you give now to be there, and I At home, Mall? Mary Peace for shame. Thom In what a figure The little fool has pull'd it self together! Anon you will lye straighter; Ha! there's rare circumstance Belongs to such a treatise; do ye tumble? I'll tumble with ye straight, wench: she sleeps soundly, Full little think'st thou of thy joy that's coming, The sweet, sweet joy, full little of the kisses, But those unthought of things come ever happiest. How soft the Rogue feels! O ye little Villain, Ye delicate coy Thief, how I shall thrum ye? Your fy away, good servant, as you are a Gentleman. Mary Prithee leave laughing. Thom Out upon ye, Thomas, What do you mean to do? I'll call the house up. O God, I am sure ye will not, shall not serve ye, For up ye go now and ye were my father. Maid your courage will be cool'd anon. Thom If it do I'll hang for't, Yet I'le be quartered here first. Dor O fierce Villian. Ma What would he do indeed, Doll? Dor You had best try him. Tho I'll kiss thee ere I come to bed, sweet Mary. Mary Prithee leave laughing. Dor O for gentle Nicholas. Tho And view that stormy face that has so thundred me, A coldness crept over't now? by your leave, candle, And next door by yours too, so, a pretty, pretty, Shall I now look upon ye? by this light it moves me. Ma Much good may it do you, Sir. Thom Holy Saints defend me, The Devil, Devil, Devil, O the Devil. Ma. Dor. Ha, ha, ha, ha, the Devil, O the Devil. Thom I am abus'd most damnedly, most beastly, Yet if it be a she-Devil; but the house is up, And here's no staying longer in this Cassock. Woman, I here disclaim thee; and in vengeance I'll marry with that Devil, but I'll vex thee. Ma By'r Lady, but you shall not, Sir, I'll watch ye. Tho Plague o' your Spanish leather hide: I'll waken ye; Devil good night: good night, good Devil. Moor Oh. Thom Roar again, Devil, roar again. Exit Tho. Moor O, O, Sir. Ma Open the doors before him; let him vanish: Now, let him come again, I'll use him kinder. How now Wench? Moor 'Pray lye here your self next, next, Mistress, And entertain your sweet-heart. Ma What said he to thee? Moor I had a soft Bed, and I slept out all But his kind farewel: ye may bake me now, For o' my conscience, he has made me Venison. Ma Alas poor Kate; I'll give thee a new Petticoat. Dor And I a Wastecoat, wench. Ma Draw in the Bed, Maids, And see it made again; put fresh sheets on too, For Doll and I; come Wench, let's laugh an hour now. To morrow, early, will we see young Cellide, They say she has taken a Sanctuary; Love and they Are thick sown, but come up so full of thistles. Dor They must needs, Mall, for 'tis a pricking age grown, Prithee to bed, for I am monstrous sleepy. Mary A match, but art not thou thy Brother? Dor I would I were, Wench, You should hear further. Ma Come, no more of that, Doll. Exeunt. FleMTho5.2 SCENE II. Enter Hylas, and Thomas. Hyl I heard the doors clap; now, and't be thy will, wench. By th' Mass she comes; you are surely met fair Gentlewoman, I take it, Mistress Doll Sebastians Daughter. Thom I take right, Sir; Hylas, are you ferretting? I'll fit you with a penny-worth presently. Hyl How dare you walk so late, sweet, so weak guarded? Thom 'Faith Sir, I do no harm, nor none I look for, Yet I am glad I have met so good a Gentleman, Against all chances; for though I never know ye, Yet I have heard much good spoke of ye. Hyl Hark Ye, What if a man should kiss ye? Thom That's no harm, Sir; 'Pray God he 'scapes my Beard, there lies the mischief. Hyl Her lips are monstrous rugged, but that surely Is but the sharpness of the weather; hark ye once once more, And in your ear, sweet Mistress, for ye are so, And ever shall be from this hour: I have vow'd it. Enter Sebastian, and Launcelot. Seb Why, that's my daughter, Rogue, dost thou not see her Kissing that fellow there, there in that corner? Laun Kissing? Seb Now, now, now they agree o'th' match too. Thom Nay then you love me not. Hyl By this white hand, Doll. Thom I must confess I have long desir'd your sight, Sir. Laun Why, there's the Boots still, Sir. Seb Hang Boots, Sir, Why, they'll wear Breeches too. Thom Dishonest me? Not for the World. Seb Why, now they kiss again, there I knew 'twas she, and that her crafty stealing Out the back way must needs have such a meaning. Laun I am at my small wits ends. Thom If ye mean honourably. Laun Did she ne'r beat ye before, Sir? Seb Why dost thou follow me? Thou Rascal, Slave, hast thou not twice abus'd me? Hast thou not spoil'd the Boy? by thine own Convenant, Would'st thou not now be hang'd? Laun I think I would, Sir. But you are so impatient; does not this shew, Sir, (I do beseech ye speak, and speak with judgment, And let the case be equally consider'd) Far braver in your Daughter? in a Son now, 'Tis nothing, of no mark; every man does it, But to beget a Daughter, a man maiden, That reaches at these high exploits, is admirable; Nay, she goes far beyond him; for when durst he, But when he was drunk, do anything to speak of? This is Sebastian truly. Seb Thou sayest right, Launce, And there's my hand once more. Thom Not without Marriage. Seb Didst thou hear that? Laun I think she spoke of Marriage. Seb And she shall marry her, for it seems she likes him, And their first Boy shall be my heir. Laun I, marry, Now ye go right to work. Thom Fye, fie, Sir, Now I have promis'd ye this night to marry, Would ye be so intemperate? are ye a Gentleman? Hyl I have no maw to marriage, yet this Rascal Tempts me extreamly: will ye marry presently? Thom Get you afore, and stay me at the Chapel, Close by the Nunnery, there you shall find a night Priest, Little Sir Hugh, and he can say the Matrimony Over without Book, for we must have no company, Nor light, for fear my Father know, which must not ye be; And then to morrow night. Hyl Nothing to night, Sweet? Thom No, not a bit, I am sent of business, About my dowry, Sweet, do not spoil all now, 'Tis of much haste; I can scarce stay the marriage, Now if you love me, get you gone. Hyl You'll follow? Thom Within this hour, my sweet Chick. Hyl Kiss. Thom A Rope kiss ye, Come, come, I stand o' thorns. Hyl Methinks her mouth still Is monstrous rough, but they have ways to mend it, Farewel. Thom Farewel, I'll fit ye with a wife, Sir. Seb Come, follow close, I'll see the end she aims at, And if he be a handsome fellow, Launcelot, Fiat, 'tis done, and all my 'state is setled. Exeunt. FleMTho5.3 SCENE III. Enter Abbess, Cellide, and Nuns. Ab Come to your Mattins Maids; these early hours My gentle Daughter, will disturb a while Your fair eyes, nurtur'd in ease. Cel No, vertous Mother, 'Tis for my holy health, to purchase which, They shall forget the Child of ease, soft slumbers, O my afflicted heart, how thou art tortur'd! And love how like a Tyrant thou reign'st in me, Commanding and forbidding at one instant; Why came I hither, that desire to have Only all liberty to make me happy? Why did'st thou bring that young man home, O Valentine, That vertuous Youth? why didst thou speak his goodness In such a phrase, as if all tongues, all praises Were made for him? O fond and ignorant! Why didst thou foster my affection Till it grew up to know no other Father, And then betray it? Ab Can ye sing? Cel Yes, Mother, My sorrows only. Ab. Be gone, and to the Quire then. Exeunt. Musick singing. FleMTho5.4 SCENE IV. Enter Michael and Servant, and Francis. Mich Hast thou enquire'd him out? Serv He's not at home, Sir, His Sister thinks he's gone to th' Nunnery. Mich Most likely; I'll away, an hour hence, Sirrah, Come you along with this young Gentleman, Do him all service, and fair office. Ser Yes Sir. Exeunt. FleMTho5.5 SCENE V. Enter Hylas, and Sam. Sam Where hast thou been, man? Hyl Is there ne'r a shop open? I'll give thee a pair of Gloves, Sam. Sam What's the matter? Hyl What dost thou think? Sam Thou are not married? Hyl By th' mass but I am, all to be married, I am i'th' order now, Sam. Sam To whom prithee? I thought there was some such trick in't, you stole from me, But who, for Heavens sake? Hyl Ev'n the sweetest woman, The rarest Woman, Samuel, and the lustiest, But wondrous honest, honest as the ice, Boy, Not a bit before hand, for my life, Sirrah, And of a lusty kindred. Sam But who, Hylas? Hyl The young Gentleman and I are like to be friends again, The fates will have it so. Sam Who, Monsieur Thomas? Hyl All wrongs forgot. Sam O now I smell ye, Hylas; Does he know of it? Hyl No, there's the trick I owe him; 'Tis done, Boy, we are fast 'faith, my Youth now Shall know I am aforehand, for his qualities. Sam Is there no trick in't? Hyl None, but up and ride, Boy: I have made no Joynture neither, there I have paid him. Sam She's a brave wench. Hyl She shall be as I'll use her, And if she anger me, all his abuses I'll clap upon her Cassock. Sam Take heed, Hylas, Hyl 'Tis past that, Sam, come, I must meet her presently, And now shalt see me a most glorious Husband. Exeunt. FleMTho5.6 SCENE VI. Enter Dorothy, Mary, Valentine. Dor In troth, Sir, you never spoke to me. Val Can ye forget me? Did you promise all your help and cunning In my behalf, but for one hour to see her, Did you not swear it? by this hand, no strictness Nor rule this house holds, shall by me be broken. Dor I saw ye not these two days. Val Do not wrong me, I met ye, by my life, just as you entred This gentle Ladies Lodge, last night, thus suited About eleven a clock. Dor 'Tis true, I was there, But that I saw or spoke to you. Mar I have found it, Your Brother Thomas, Doll. Dor Pray Sir, be satisfi'd, And wherein I can do you good, command me. What a mad fool is this? stay here a while, Sir, Whilst we walk in, and make your peace. Exit. Enter Abbess. Val I thank ye. Squeak within. Ab Why, what's the matter there among these maids? Now benedicite, have ye got the breeze there? Give me my holy sprinkle. Enter 2 Nuns. 1 Nun O Madam, there's a strange thing like a Gentlewoman, Like Mistress Dorothy, I think the fiend Crept into th' Nunnery we know not which way, Plays revel rout amoung us. Ab Give me my holy water-pot. 1 Nun Here, Madam. Ab Spirit of earth or air, I do conjure thee, Squeak within. Of water or of fire. 1 Nun Hark Madam, hark. Ab Be thou Ghost that cannot rest, Or a shadow of the blest, Be thou black, or white, or green, Be thou heard, or to be seen. Enter Thomas and Cellide. 2 Nun It comes, it comes. Cell What are ye? speak, speak gently, And next, what would ye with me? Tho Any thing you'l let me. Cell You are no Woman certain. Tho Nor you no Nun, nor shall not be. Cell What make ye here? Tho I am a holy Fryer. Ab Is this the Spirit? Tho Nothing but spirit Aunt. Ab Now out upon thee. Tho Peace, or I'le conjure too, Aunt. Ab Why come you thus? Tho That's all one, here's my purpose: Out with this Nun, she is too handsome for ye, Pet tell thee, Aunt, and I speak it with tears to thee, If thou keepst her here, as yet I hope thou art wiser, Mark but the mischief follows. Ab She is a Votress. Tho Let her be what she will, she will undo thee, Let her but one hour out, as I direct ye, Or have among your Nuns again. Ab You have no project But fair and honest? Tho As thine eyes, sweet Abbess. Ab I will be rul'd then. Tho Thus then and perswade her, But do not juggle with me, if ye do Aunt. Ab I must be there my self. Tho Away and fit her. AB Come Daughter, you must now be rul'd, or never. Cell I must obey your will. Ab That's my good Daughter. Exeunt. FleMTho5.7 SCENE VII. Enter Dorothy, and Mary. Ma What a coyle has this fellow kept i'th Nunnery, Sure he has run the Abbess out of her wits. Do Out of the Nunnery I think, for we can neither see her, Nor the young Cellide. Ma Pray Heavens he be not teasing. Dor Nay you may thank your self, 'twas your own structures. Enter Hylas, and Sam. Sam Why there's the Gentlewoman. Hyl Mass 'tis she indeed; How smart the pretty Thief looks? 'morrow Mistress. Dor Good morrow to you, Sir. Sam How strange she bears it? Hyl Maids must do so, at first. Dor Would ye ought with us, Gentlemen? Hyl Yes marry would I, A little with your Ladyship. Dor Your will, Sir. Hyl Doll, I would have ye presently prepare yourself And those things you would have with you, For my house is ready. Dor How, Sir? Hyl And this night not to fail, you must come to me, My friends will all be there too: for Trunks, and those things, And household-stuff, and cloaths you would have carried, To morrow, or the next day, I'le take order: Only what mony you have, bring away with ye, And Jewels. Dor Jewels, Sir? Hyl I, for adornment, There's a bed up, to play the game in, Dorothy: And now come kiss me heartily. Dor Who are you? Hyl This Lady shall be welcome too. Ma To what, Sir? Hyl You neighbour can resolve ye. Dor The man's foolish, Sir, you look soberly: who is this fellow, And where's his business? Sam By Heaven, thou art abus'd still. Hyl It may be so: Come ye may speak now boldly, There's none but friends, Wench. Dor Came ye out of Bedlam? Alas, 'tis ill, Sir, that ye suffer him To walk in th' open Air thus: 'twill undo him. A pretty handsome Gentleman: great pity. Sam Let me not live more if thou be'st not cozen'd. Hyl Are not you my Wife? did not I marry you last night At [St.] Saint Michaels Chapel? Dor Did not I say he was mad? Hyl Are not you Mistress Dorothy, Thomas's Sister? Mar There he speaks sence, but I'le assure ye, Gentleman, I think no Wife of yours: at what hour was it? Hyl 'S pretious; you'l make me mad; did not the Priest, Sir Hugh, that you appointed, about twelve a Clock Tye our hands fast? did not you swear you lov'd me? Did not I court ye, coming from this Gentlewomans? Ma Good Sir, go sleep, for if I credit have, She was in my arms then, abed. Sam I told ye. Hyl Be not so confident. Dor By th' mass, she must, Sir; For I'le no Husband here, before I know him: And so good morrow to ye: Come, let's go seek 'em. Sam I told ye what ye had done. Hyl Is the Devil stirring? Well, go with me; for now I will be married. Exeunt.>. FleMTho5.8 SCENE VIII. Enter Michael, Valentine, and Alice. Mich I have brought him back again. Val You have done a friendship, Worthy the love you bear me. Mich Would he had so too. Val O he's a worthy young man. Mich When all's try'd, I fear you'll change your faith: bring in the Gentleman. Enter Francis, Servant, Abbess, And Cellide, severally. Val My happy Mistress too! now Fortune help me, And all you Stars that govern chast desires Shine fair, and lovely. Ab But one hour, dear Daughter, To hear your Guardian, what he can deliver In Loves defence, and his: and then your pleasure. Cell Though much unwilling, you have made me yield, More for his sake I see: how full of sorrow Sweet catching sorrow, he appears? O love, That thou but knew'st to heal, as well as hurt us. Mich Be rul'd by me: I see her eye fast on him, And what ye heard, believe, for 'tis so certain, He neither dar'd, nor must oppose my evidence; And be you wife, young Lady, and believe too, This man you love, Sir? Val As I love my soul, Sir Mich This man you put into a free possession Of what his wants could ask: or your self render? Val And shall do still. Mich Nothing was barr'd his liberty But this fair Maid; that friendship first was broken, And you, and she abus'd; next, (to my sorrow So fair a form should hide so dark intentions) He hath himself confess'd (my purpose being Only to stop his journey, by that policy Of laying Felony to his charge, to fright the Sailers) Divers abuses done, Thefts often practis'd, Moneys, and Jewels too, and those no trifles. Cell O where have I bestrew'd my faith! in neither! Let's in for ever now, there is vertue. Mich Nay do not wonder at it, he shall say it: Are ye not guilty thus? Fran Yes: O my Fortune! Mich To give a proof I speak not enviously, Look here; do you know these Jewels? Cell In, good Mother. Enter Thomas, Dorothy, and Mary: then Sebastian, and Launcelot. Val These Jewels I have known. Dor You have made brave sport. Tho. I'le make more, if I live Wench, Nay do not look on me; I care not for ye. Lan Do you see now plain? that's Mistres Dorothy, And that's his Mistris. Seb Peace, let my joy work easily, Ha, boy! art there my boy? mine own boy, Tom, boy, Home Lance, and strike a fresh piece of Wine, the Town's ours. Val Sure, I have know these Jewels. Alice They are they, certain. Val Good Heaven, that they were. Alice I'le pawn my life on't, And this is he; come hither Mistris Dorothy, And Mistris Mary: who does that face look like; And view my Brother Well? Dor In truth like him. Ma Upon my troth exceeding like. Mich Beshrew me, But much, and main resemblance, both of face And lineaments of body: now Heaven grant it. Ali My Brother's full of passion, I'le speak to him. Now, as you are a Gentleman, resolve me, Where did you get these Jewels? Fran Now I'le tell ye, Because blind fortune yet may make me happy, Of whom I had 'em I have never heard yet, But from my infancy, upon this arm I ever wore'em. Ali 'Tis Francisco, Brother, By Heaven I ty'd em on: a little more, Sir, A little, little more, what parents have ye? Fra None, That I know yet: the more my stubborn fortune, But as I heard a Merchant say that bred me, Who, to my more affliction, dyed a poor man, When I reach'd eighteen years. Ali What said that Merchant? Fra He said, an infant, in the Genoway Galleys, But from what place he never could direct me, I was taken in a Sea-fight, and from a Mariner, Out of his manly pity he redeem'd me. He told me of a Nurse that waited on me, But she, poor soul, he said was killed. A Letter to I had enclos'd within me, To one Castruccio a Venetian Merchant, To bring me up: the man, when years allow'd me, And what of frinds compell'd, I sought, but found him Long dead before, and all my hopes gone with him. The Wars was my retreat then, and my travel In which I found this Gentlemans free bounty, For which Heaven recompenc'd him: now ye have all. Val And all the worldly bliss that Heaven can send me, And all my prayers and thanks. Alice Down o' your knees, Sir, For now you have found a Father, and that Father That will not venture ye again in Galleys. Mich 'Tis true, believe her, Sir, and we all joy with ye. Val My best friend still; my dearest: now Heaven bless thee, And make me worthy of this benefit. Now my best Mistress. Cel Now Sir, I come to ye. Ab No, no, let's in Wench. Cell Not for the world, now, Mother, And thus, Sir, all my service I pay to you, And all my love to him. Val And may it prosper, Take her Francisco: now nor more young Callidon, And love her dearly, for thy Father does so. Fran May all hate seek me else, and thus I seal it. Val Nothing but mirth now, friends. Enter Hylas and Sam. Hyl Nay, I will find him. Sam What do all these here? Tho You are a trusty Husband, And a hot lover too. Hyl Nay the, good morrow, Now I perceive the Knavery. Sam I still told ye. Tho Stay, or I'le make ye stay: come hither, Sister. Val Why how now Mistris Thomas? Tho Peace a little, THou would'st fain have a Wife? Hyl Not I, by no means. Tho Thou shalt have a wife, and a fruitful wife, for I find, Hylas, That I shall never be able to bring thee Children. Seb A notable brave boy. Hyl I am very well, Sir. Tho Thou shalt be better, Hylas, thou hast 7 hundred pounds a year And thou shalt make her 3 hundred joynture. Hy No. Tho Thou shalt boy, and shalt bestow Two hundred pound in Cloaths, look on her, A delicate lusty wench, she has fifteen hundred, And feasible: strike hands, or I'le strike first. Dor You'l let me like? Mar He's a good handsome fellow, Play not the fool. Tho Strike, Brother Hylas, quickly. Hyl If you can love me, well. Dor If you can please me. Tho Try that out soon, I say, my Brother Hylas. Sam Take her, and use her well, she's a brave Gentlewoman, Hyl You must allow me another Mistriss. Dor Then you must allow me another Servant. Hyl Well, let's together then, a lusty kindred. Seb I'le give thee five hundred pound more for that wench. Ma Now Sir, for you and I to make the feast full. Tho No, not a bit, you are a vertuous Lady, And love to live in contemplation. Ma Come fool, I am friends now. Tho The fool shall not ride ye, There lye my Woman, now my man again, And now for travel once more. Seb I'le barr that first. Ma And I next. Tho Hold your self contented: for I say I will travel, So long I will travel, till I find a Father That I never knew, and a Wife that I never look'd for, And a state without expectation, So rest you merry Gentlemen. Ma You shall not, From my faith, I love you now extreamly, And now I'le kiss ye. Tho This will not do it, Mistress. Ma Why when we are married, we'l do more. Seb There's all Boy, The keyes of all I have, come, let's be merry, For now I see thou art right. Tho Shall we to Church straight? Val Now presently, and there with nuptial The holy Priest shall make ye happy all. Tho Away then, fair afore. Exeunt. Finis.