Actus Primi. Scoena Prima.
Enter Sir Iohn Belfare, and Isaac his man, seruants bringing in Prouision.
Belfare.
WEll done my Masters, yee bestirre your selues, I see we shall feast to morrow.
Ser.
Your worship shall want no Wood-cocke [...] at the Wedding.
Isa.
Thou hast as many as thou canst carry, and thirteene to the last dozen.
Bel.
Isaac.
Isa.
Sir.
Bel.
Haue you beene carefull, to inuite those friends, you had direction for?
Isa.
Yes sir, I haue beene a continuall motion euer sin [...] I rise. [Page] I haue not sayd my prayers to day.
Bel.
We shall want no guests then.
Isa.
I haue commanded most on'em.
Bel.
How sir?
Isa.
I ha'bid 'em sir, there's two in my list, will not fayle to dine w'ee.
Bel.
Who are they?
Isa.
Master Rawbone, the yong vsurer.
Bel.
Oh hees reported a good Trencher-man,
He has a tall stomacke, he shall be welcome.
Isa.
They say, he has made on Obligation to the Diuell, if euer he eate a good meale at his owne charge, his soule is forfeit.
Bel.
How does he liue liue?
Isa.
Vpon his mony sir.
Bel.
He does not eate it.
Isa.
No the Diuell choake him, it were a golden age, if all the Vsurers in London should ha'no other dyet; hee has a thingut waytes vpon him, I thinke, one of his bastards, be got vppon a spider, I hope to liue, to see 'em both drawne through a ring.
Bel.
Who is the other?
Isa.
The other may be knowne too, the barrell at Heidelberg was the patterne of his belly, Master Lodam sir.
Bel.
Hee's a great man indeede.
Isa.
Something giuen to the wast, for he liues within no reasonable compasse I'm sure.
Bel.
They will be well met.
Isa.
But very ill matcht to draw a Coach, yet at pro [...]der, there wilbe scarce an Oate betweene the leane [...]ade, and the fa [...] Gelding.
Bel.
How liues he?
Isa.
Religiously sir; for hee that seedes well, must by consequence liue well, hee holds none can be dam'd but leane men, for f [...]t men he sayes must needes bee sau'd by the faith of their body.
Enter Mr Beauford, and Captaine Landby.
Bel.
Mr. Beauford and Captayne Landby: Isaac, call forth my Daughter.
Beau.
[Page]Sir Iohn, I hope you make no stranger of me,
To morrow, I shall change my title for
Your sonne, soone as the holy rites shall make me
The happy husband to your daughter, in the meane time
It will become me wayte on her.
Bel.
I possesse nothing but in trust for thee,
Gratiana makes all th [...]ne.
Cap.
I shall presume to follow.
Bel.
Your friendship noble Captaine to Mr. Beauford,
Makes your person most welcome,
Had you no other merit, pray enter.
Exe. Bea. & Cap.
Heauen hath already crownd my gray hayres!
I liue to see my daughter married
To a noble hu [...]band, the enuye of our time,
And exact patterne of a Gentleman,
As hopefull as the Spring, I am growne proud,
Enter Marwood.
Mar.
Dost heare firra?
Isa.
I [...]irra.
Mar.
Is Master Beauford within?
Isa.
No sir.
Mar.
I was inform'd he came hither, is he not here?
Isa.
Yes sir.
Mar.
Thou sayst he's not within.
Is.
No sir, but tis very like he wilbe to morrow night sir.
Mar.
How is this?
Is.
Would you haue him be within before he is married.
Mar.
Witty Groome, pret [...]ee inuite him forth; say here's a friend
Is.
Now you talke of inuiting, I haue two or three guests to inuite yet: let me see.
Mar.
Why dost not mooue?
Is.
And you make much adoe, ile inuite you: pray come to the▪ Wedding to morrow.
Exit.
Enter Sir Iohn Belfare, Beauford, and Captaine.
Bel.
[Page]Tis hee.
Bea.
You were my happy prospect from the window, Coose you are a most welcome guest.
Bel.
Mr. Marwood, you haue beene a great stranger to the City, or my house for the course entertaynement you receiu'd, hath beene vnworthy of your visit.
Mar.
Twas much abo [...]e my desert sir: Captayne.
Cap.
I congratulate your returne.
Bel.
Beauford, Gentlemen enter my house,
And perfect your embraces there: I lead the way.
Exit.
Bea.
Pray follow.
Mar.
Your pardon.
Cap.
We know you haue other habit,
You were not wont to affect ceremony.
Mar. & Bea whisper.
Bea.
How?
Cap.
I do not like his present countenance,
It does threaten somewhat; I wo'd not prophesie.
Bea.
Good Captayne,
Excuse my absence to our friends within,
I haue affayres concernes me with my kinsman,
Which done, we both returne to wayte on 'em.
Cap.
I shall sir.
Bea.
Now proceed.
Mar.
We are kinsmen.
Bea.
More we are friends.
Mar.
And shal I doubt to speak to Beauford any thing,
My loue directs me to?
Bea.
What needs this circumstance?
Wee were not wont to talke at such a distance,
You appeare wild.
Ma.
I haue beene wilde indeede
In my vngouernd youth, but ha' reclaimd it,
And am to laden with the memory of former errours,
Tha [...] I desire to be confest.
Bea.
Confest? I am no Gostly father.
Ma.
[Page]But you must heare, you may absolue mee too:
Bea.
If thou hast any discontentments prethee take other time
For their discourse, I am in expectation of Marriage,
I would not interrupt my ioyes.
Ma.
I must require your present hearing,
A concernes vs both, as neere as fame, or life.
Bea.
Ha! what is it?
Ma.
Wee shall haue opportunity at your lodging,
The streetes are populous and full noise,
So please you walke, Ile wait one you.
Bea.
Ime your seruant.
Exeunt.
Enter Iustice Landby, and Milisent.
Iust.
Milisent. Where's my daughter?
Mil.
In complement with Mr. Rawbone, who is newly entred sir.
Iust.
O there's a peece of folly.
A thing made vp of parchment and his bonds
Are of more value then his soule and body,
Were any man the purchaser, onely wise
In his hereditary trade of vsury,
Vnderstands nothing but a scriuener,
As if he were created for no vse
But to grow rich with intrest, to his ignorance,
He ha's the gift, of being impudent,
What will he grow to, if he liue, that is
So young a monster?
Mil.
With your fauour sir
If you hold no better opinion of this Citizen
It puzles, mee why you inuite him, to your house
And entertainement, he pretending affection to your daughter,
Pardon me sir if I seeme bold.
Iust.
As some men Milisent
Do suffer spiders in their Chamber, while
They count them profitable vermine.
Mil.
But he's most like to scatter poyson sir,
Your fame is precious, and your family
[Page]Not mingling with corrupted streames, hath like
An entire Riuer, still maintayn'd his current
Chast, and delightfull.
Iust.
Sha't receiue my bosome,
Ile sooner match her with an Ethiope,
Then giue consent, she should disgrace our blood;
And herein I but trye her strength of iudgement
In giuing him accesse; if she haue lost
Remembrance of her birth, and generous thoughts▪
She suck'd from her dead mother, with my care
Ile striue to reinforce her natiue goodnesse,
Or quite diuorse her from my blood: and Milisent
Ile vse your vigilance.
Mil.
Sir command.
Iust.
I will,
Not vrge how I receiu'd you first a stranger,
Nor the condition of your life, with me,
Aboue the nature of a seruant, to
Obliege your faith: I haue obserued thee honest.
Mil.
You are full of noble thoughts.
Iust.
Though I suspect not
The obedience of my daughter, yet her youth
Is apt to erre, let me employ your eye
Vpon her still, and receiue knowledge from you,
How she dispenceth fauours, you shall binde
My loue the stronger to you.
Mil.
Sir, I shall be ambitions to deserue your fauour
Withall the duties of a seruant, and
I doubt not, but your Daughter is so full
Of conscience, and care in the conformity
Of her desires to your will, I shall
Inrich my sight with obseruation,
And make my intelligence happy.
Enter Cameleon.
Iust.
How now: what's he?
Mil.
[Page]Tis Mr. Rawbones squire.
Cam.
Pray is not my Masters worship here?
Iust.
Your Masters worship!
What's that, his Spaniell?
Cam.
No sir, but a thing that does follow him.
Iust.
In what likenesse,
I hope he does not conuerse with spirits.
Cam.
Heele not entertayne an Angell,
But he will weigh him first, indeede
I am all the spirits that belong to him.
Mil.
So I thinke, but none of his familiar.
Iust.
What's thy name?
Cam.
Cameleon.
Iust.
Good; didst euer eate?
Cam.
Yes once.
Iust.
And then thou caught'st a surfeit,
thou couldst nere endure meate since: wer't euer christned.
Cam.
Yes twice, first in my infancy,
And the last time about a yeare agoe,
When I should haue beene prentise to an Anabaptist.
Iust.
Does thy Master loue thee?
Cam.
Yes, for, and I would gold I might haue it,
But my stomacke would better digest beefe, or mutton,
If there be any such things in nature.
Mil.
Here is his Master sir, and Mistris Iane.
Enter Rawbone, and Iane.
Raw.
How now Cameleon, hast din'd?
Cam.
Yes sir,
I had a delicate fresh ayre to dinner.
Raw.
And yet thou lookst as thou hadst eate nothing this se'night, here prouide me a Capon, and halfe a dozen of Pidgeons to supper, and when will your worship come home, and tast my Hospitality.
Ian.
[Page]When you please sir,
Raw.
Yet now I thinke on't,
I must feede more sparingly.
Ian.
More liberally in my opinion.
Raw.
Would not any body in the world thinke so? did you euer see two such eare-wigges as my man and I: doe wee not look [...] like.
Ian.
I thinke the picture of eyther o'your faces in a ring, with a Memento mors, would be as sufficient a mortification, as lying with an Anotomy.
Raw.
The reason why wee are so leane and consum'd, is nothing, but eating too much: Cameleon now I thinke on [...]t, let the Pygeons alone, the Capon will bee enough for thee and I.
Cam.
The rumpe would last vs a se'night.
Raw.
I tell you forsooth, I ha brought my selfe so low, with a great dyet, that I must be temperate, or the Doctor sayes there's no way but one wo'me.
Cam.
That's not the way of all flesh I'm sure.
Raw.
It is a shame to say, what we eate euery day.
Ian.
I thinke so.
Cam.
By this hand: if it would beare an oath: wee haue had nothing this two dayes but halfe a Larke; which by a mis-chance the Cat had kild too, the Cage being open: I will prouide my belly another Master.
Iust.
Now Ile interrupt em Master Rawbone.
Raw.
I hope your Worship will repinie my boldnesse,
Tis out of loue to your daughter.
Iust.
Sir, I haue a businesse to you, a friend of mine vpon some necessity would take vp a hundred pounds.
Raw.
Ile pawne some ounces to pleasure him.
Iust.
It is more friendly sayd then I expected.
Raw.
So he bring me good security, some three or
Foure, or fiue sufficient and able Citizens, for
Mortalities sake, ile lend it him.
Iust.
[Page]Will you not take an honest mans word.
Raw.
Few words to the wise, I will take any mans word to owe me a hundred pound, but not a Lords to pay me fifty.
Iust.
Well: tis curtesie.
Raw.
He shall pay nothing to me but lawfull confideration from time to time, beside the charges of th'ensealing, because he is your friend.
Iust.
This is extreamity, can you require more?
Raw.
More? whats eight in the hundred to me? my Scriuenes knowes, I haue taken forty and fifty in the hundred vijs̄ and mod [...]s of my owne kins-men, when they were in necessity.
Iust.
I apprehend the fauour.
Enter Isaac.
How now Isaac?
Is.
My master commends his loue to you sir, and does desire your presence together with your Daughter and Nephew, at the arraignement of my young mistresse to morrow.
Iust.
How knaue?
Is.
Shee is to be married or arraign'd, ith'morning, and at night to suffer execution and loose her head.
Iust.
Returne our thankes, and say wee'le waite vppon the Bride Iane.
Exeunt Iustice and Iane.
Is.
Deare Master Rawbone, I doe beseech you bee at these Sessions.
Raw.
Thou didst inuite me before.
Is.
I know it, but our Cocke has a great minde, that sentence should likewise passe vppon the roast, the boyld, and the bak'd, and hee feares vnlesse you be a Commissioner, the meate will hardly bee condemn'd to morrow, so that I can neuer often enough desire your stomacke to remember, you will come.
Raw.
Dost thinke I won [...]t keepe my word?
Is.
Alas, wee haue nothing, but good cheere to entertayne you, I beseech you sir howsoeuer to feast with us, though you goe away after dinner.
Raw.
[Page]There's my hand —
Isa.
I thanke you.
Raw.
Is master Iustice gone, and mistresse Iane too? follow me Cameleon. Ile take my leaue when I come agen.
Mil.
Is [...]ac.
Isa.
My l [...]ttle wit, thou wo't come with thy master tomorrow, Ile reserue a bottle of wine to warme thy sconce.
Mil.
I cannot promise.
Isa.
If I durst stay three minutes, I would venture a cup with thee irh'buttery, but tis a busie time at home:
Farewell
M [...]l [...]sent. Exit.
Mil.
Marriage as much ioy waite vpon the Bride,
As the remembrance of it brings me sorrow,
A woman has vndone me, when I dye
A Coffin will enclose this misery.
Exit.
Enter Beauford and Marwood.
Beau.
You prepare me for some wonder.
Mar.
I doe:
And ere I come to the period of my Story,
Your vnderstanding will admire.
Beau.
Teach my soule the way.
Mar.
I am not Cose ith'number of those friends
Come to congratulate your present marriage.
Beau.
Ha?
Mar.
I am no flatterer, the blood you carry
Doth warme my veines, yet could nature be
Forgetfu [...]l and remoue it self, the loue
I owe your merit, coth oblige me, to
Relation of a truth which else would fire
My bo o [...]ne with concealement. I am come
To deuide your s [...]u [...]e, rauish all your pleasures,
Poyson the very ayre maintaynes your breathing,
You must not marry.
Beau.
Must not? though as I
Am mortall I may be compeld within
[Page]A payre of minutes to turne ashes, yet
My soule already Bride-groome to her vertue,
Shall laugh at Death that would vnmarry vs,
And call her mine eternally.
Mar.
Death is
A mockery to that diuorce I bring,
Come you must not loue her.
Beau,
Did I hope thou couldst
Giue me a reason, I would aske one.
Mar.
Do not,
I will too soone arriue, and make you curse
Your knowledge, couldst exchan [...]e thy temper for
An angels▪ at the hearing of this reason,
'Twould make you passionate, and [...]urne man agen.
Beau.
Can there be reason for a sinne so great,
As changing my affection from Gratiana?
Namen, and reach me how to be a monster,
For I must loose humanity▪ oh Marwood,
Thou leadst me into a Wildernesse, she is —
Mar.
False, sinnefull, a blacke soule she has.
Bea.
Thou hast a hell about thee, and thy language
Speakes thee a Diuell, that to blast her innocence
Dost belch these vapours: to say thou lyest,
Were to admit, thou hast but made in this
A humane errour, when thy sinne hath aym'd
The fall of goodnesse. Gratiana false?
The snow shall turne a Salamander first
And dwell in fire; the ayre retreate, and leaue
An emptinesse in nature, angels be [...]
Corrupt, and brib'd by mortals sell their charity
Her innocence is such, that wert thou Marwood
For this offence condemn'd to lodge in flames,
It would for euer cure thy burning feauer,
If with thy sorrow thou procure her shed
One teare vpon thee, now, thou art lost for euer,
[Page]And arm'd thus, though with thousand furies guarded,
I reach thy heart.
Drawes:
Mar
Stay Beauford,
Since you dare be so confident of her chastity
Heare me conclude, I bring no idle fable
Patcht vp betweene suspition, and report
Of scandalous tongues, my eares were no assurance
To conuince me without my eyes.
Bea.
What horror!
Be more particular:
Mar.
I did prophesie,
That it would come to this, for I haue had
A tedious strugling with my nature, but
The name of friend ore-ballanc'd the exception:
Forgiue me Ladies, that my loue to man
Hath power to make me guilty of such language,
As with it, must betray a womans honour:
Bea.
You torture me, be briefe.
Mar.
Then, though it carry shame to the reporters,
Forgiue me heauen, and witnesse an vnwelcome truth.
Bea.
Stay, I am too hasty for the knowledge
Of something thou prepar'st for my destruction,
May I not thinke what tis, and kill my selfe?
Or at least by degrees, with apprehending
Some strange thing done, infect my fancy with
Opinion first, and so dispose my selfe
To death? I cannot, when I thinke of Gratiana
I enterrayne a heauen: the worst, Ile heare it.
Mar.
It will enlarge it selfe too soone, receiue it;
I haue enioyd her.
Bea.
Whom?
Mar.
Gratiana sinnefully, before your loue
Made she and you acquainted.
Bea.
Ha? th'ast kept thy word thou ca [...]st so poison all
My comfort▪
Mar.
[Page]Your friendship I ha [...]preferred
To my owne fame, and but to saue you from
A lasting shipwrack, noble Beauford, thinke
It should haue rotted here, she that will part
With Virgin honour, nere should wed the heart.
Bea.
Was euer woman good, and Gratiana
Vitious? lost to honour? at the instant
When I expected all my Haruest ripe.
The golden Summer tempting me to reape
The well growne eares, comes an impetuous storme
Destroyes an ages hope in a short minute,
And lets me liue, the copy of mans frailty:
Surely, some one of all the female sexe,
Engrost the vertues, and fled hence to Heauen,
Left woman-kind dissemblers.
Mar.
Sir, make vse
Of reason, tis a knowledge should reioyce you,
Since it does teach you to preserue your selfe.
Bea.
Enioyd Gratiana sinnefully, tis a sound
Able to kill with horror; it infects
The very aire, I see it like a mist
Dwell round about, that I could vncreate
My selfe, or be forgotten, no remembrance
That euer I lou'd woman: I haue no
Genius left to instruct me—it growes late:
Within—
Waite o'my kinsman to his Chamber,
I shall desire your rest, pray giue me leaue
To thinke a little—
Mar.
Cosen: I repent
I haue beene so open breasted, since you make
This seuere vse on't, and afflict your minde
With womanish sorrow, I haue but caution'd you
Against a danger, out of my true friendship:
Prosper me goodnesse as my ends are noble▪
[Page]Good-night, collect your selfe, and be a man.
Exit.
Bea.
And why may not a kinsman be a Vilaine?
Perhaps he loues Gratiana, and enuying
My happinesse, doth now traduce her chastity
To find this out, time will allow but narrow
Limits: His last words bad me be a man.
A man? yes I haue my soule, t'does not become
A manly resolution to be tame thus,
And giue vp the opinion of his mistresse
For one mans accusat on; —ha: ith'morning?
Proper. Y [...]s Marwood I will be a man:
His [...]d, shall eyther make past the sence
Of this affliction. or mine en [...]orce
A tru [...]h [...]f [...]on him, if thou be [...]st wrongd Gratiana
Ile [...] ye th [...] Mar [...]yr, bu [...] if false, in this
I gayne to
[...]ye, not hue a sacrifice.
Exit.
Actus Secundi. Scena Prima.
Enter Cardona, and Isaac.
Car.
To the Taylors man, runne.
Isa.
To the Taylors man,
Why not to his master?
Car.
The Wedding cloathes not brought
Home yet, fie, fie.
Isa.
[Page]W'o would trust of womans Taylor, take measure so long before of a Gentle-woman, and not bring home his commodity, there's no conscience in't.
Car.
The arrant Shoe-maker too.
Isa.
Master Hide, is not he, come yet I cald vppon him yester-day, to make hast of my M [...]stress [...]s shoes, and he told me, he was about the vpper leather, he would be at her heeles presently, I left his foot in the stirrop, I thought he would haue rid post after me.
Car.
Prethee Isa [...]c, make hast, how tedious th'art, hast not thou beene there yet.
Isa.
Oh yes, and here agen, de'e not see me, you are so light your selfe.
Car.
As thou goest, call vpon Cod the Persumer, tell him he vses vs sweetly, has not brought home the gloues yet. — and dost heare? when th'art at the Peacocke remember to call for the sprig, by the same token I left my fanne to be mended:—and dost heare? when th'art there, tis but a little out of the way, to runne to the Diuell, and bid the V [...]tener make hast with the runlets of Claret, w [...] shall ha no time to burne it.
Isa.
You need not if it come from Diuell, me-thinkes that Wine should burne it selfe.
Car.
Runne I prethee.
Isa.
Taylors, Shoe-makers, Perfumers, Feather-makers, and the Diuell and all, what a many occupations does a woman runne through, before she is married.
Exit.
Car.
Fye vpon't what a perplexity is about a Wedding, I might haue beene thus troubled for a child of my owne, if good lucke had seru'd.
Car.
I come Lady-bird.
Exit.
Enter Beauford and Marwood.
Mar.
Was this your purpose.
Bea,
This place of all the Park affords most priuacy.
[Page]Nature has plac'd the trees to imitate
A Roman Amphitheater.
Mar.
We must be the sword-players.
Bea.
Draw, imagine all
These trees were Cypresse, the companions of
Our funerall, for one or both must go
To a darke habitation, me-thinkes
We two, are like to some vnguided men,
That hauing wandred all the day in a
Wild vnknowne path, at night walke downe into
A hollow grot, a caue which neuer Starre
Durst looke into, made in contempt of light
By nature, which the Moone did neuer yet
Be-friend with an [...] melancholy beame:
Oh Cosen thou hastled me, where I neue [...]
Shall see day mo [...]e.
Mar.
This is the way to make it
A night indeede, but if you recollect
Your selfe, I brought you beames to let you see
The horror of that darknesse you are going to,
By marrying with Gratiana.
Bea.
That name
Awakes my resolution, consume not
Thy breath [...]oo idly, th'ast but a small time
For th'use om't, eyther employ it in the vnsaying
Thy wrong to Gratiana, or thou hastens
Thy last minute.
Mar.
I must tell Beauford them,
He is vngratefull to returne so ill
My friendship, haue I vnder-va'ued
My shame in the relation of a truth,
To make the man I woo'd preserue, my enemy:
Why dost thou tempt thy destiny with so
Much sinne? dost thi [...]ke I were a sword I dare
Not manage? or that I can be inforc'd
[Page]To a reuolt? I am no Rebell
Beauford:
Again [...] I must confirme Gratianaes honour
Stain'd, the treasures of her chastity
Rifled, and lost, twas my vnhappinesse
To haue added that, vnto my other sinnes
Ith'wildnesse of my blood, which thou mayst punish.
Bea.
Thou hast repeated, but the same in
Substance touching Gratiana.
Mar.
Truth is euer constant
R [...]maines vpon her square, firme, and vnshaken.
Beau.
If what thou hast affirm'd be true, why should
We fight, be cruell [...]o our selues, indanger
Our e [...]ernity, for the enou [...] of
One frayle woman [...] let our swords exp [...]ct
A nobler cause. What man hath such assurance
In any womans faith, that he should runne
A desperate hazard of his soule? I know
Women are not borne angels, but created
With passion and temper like to vs,
And men are apt to erre, and louse themselues
Caught with the soule of wanton beauty, fetterd
Euen [...]ith their mist [...]sses haire
Mar.
I like this well.
as [...]de.
Beau.
He has a handsome presence and discourse,
Two subtle charmes to tempt a womans frailty,
Who must be gouern'd by their eye or eare
To loue, beside my kinsman hath beene taxt.
F [...]r being [...]oo prompt in wantonnesse, this confirmes it
Then farwe [...]l woman kind.
Mar.
This d [...]es become you.
Bea.
Why should we fight, our letting blood wo'no [...]
Cure her, and make her honour white agen:
We are friends, [...]epen [...] thy sinne, and marry her.
Mar.
Whom?
Beau.
Gratiana.
Mar.
[Page]How Sir, marry her?
Bea.
Why canst tho adde to it another crime,
By a refusing to repayre the ruines
Of that chast temple, thou hadst violated?
Her Virgin tapers are by thee extinct,
No odour of her chastity, which once
Gaue a perfume to Heauen, and and did refresh
Her innocent soule, they that haue spoyld virginity,
Do halfe restore the treasures they tooke thence
By sacred marriage.
Mar.
Marriage, with whom?
Bea.
Gratiana.
Mar.
Should I marry a whore?
Bea.
Thou lyest, and with a guilt vpon thy soule,
Able to sinke thee to damnation,
drawes againe.
Ile send thee hence; a whore? what woman
Was euer bad enough to deserue that name?
Salute some natiue fury, or a wretch
Condemn'd already to hells tortures by it,
Not Gratiana; th'ast awakned iustice,
And giuen it eyes to see thy treachery,
The depth of thy malicious heart, that word, hath
Dis-inchanted me.
Mar.
Are you serious?
Bea.
How haue I fin'd in my credulity
'Gainst vertue, all this while? what charme bound vp
My vnderstanding part, I should admit
A possibility, for her to carry
So blacke a soule; though all her sexe beside
Had fallen from their creation? thou hast
Not life enough to forfeit, what an aduantage
To fame and goodnesse had beene lost.
Mar.
Will you fight?
Beau.
Wert thou defen [...]'d with circular fire, more
Subtle then the lightning, that I knew would rauish
[Page]My heart, and marrow from me, yet I should
Neglect the danger, and but singly arm'd,
Flye to reuenge thy calumny: a whore—come on sir.
Th'art wounded: ha?
Fight.
Mar.
Mortally, flye Beauford, saue thy selfe, I hasten to the dead.
Beau.
Oh stay a while, or thou wilt loose vs both,
Thy wound I cannot call backe, now there is
No dallying with heauen, but thou pulst on thee
Double confusion, leaue a truth behind thee,
As thou wouldst hope rest to thy parting soule,
Hast thou not wrong'd Gratiana?
Mar.
Yes, in my lust, but not in my report,
Take my last breath, I sinfully enioy'd her,
One hollows within.
Gratiana is a blotted peece of alablaster:
Farewell least some betray thee, heauen forgiue
My offence, as I do freely pardon thine.
Beau.
I cannot long suruiue,—
Is there no hope thou maist recouer?
Mar.
Oh!
Beau.
Farewell for euer then, with thy short breath
M [...]y all thy ills conclude, mine but beginne
To muster, life and I shall quickly part,
I feele a sorrow will breake
Beaufords heart.
Exit.
Enter Keeper and Seruant.
Ser.
There are Cony-stealers abroad sir.
Keeper.
These whorson Rabbet suckers
Will nere leaue the ground.
Ser.
In my walke last night, I frighted some on em.
Pox a these vermin, would they were all destroy'd.
Keeper.
So we may chance to keepe no Deere.
Ser.
Why so?
Kee.
An old Cony stops a knaues mouth somtimes.
That else would be gaping for Venison.
Mar.
Oh.
Keeper.
Whose that?
Seruant.
[Page]Here's a Gentle-man wounded.
Keeper.
Ha?
Seruant.
He has bled much.
Keeper.
How cam [...] you hurt si [...]? no,
Not speake? if he be not past h [...]pe, let vs
Cany him to my lodge▪ my wife is a
Pe [...]ce of a Su [...]g [...]on, has beene fortunate
In some cures: teare a peece of thy shirt Raph,
To bind his wound quickly: —so, so, alas
Poore Gentle-man, he may hue to be drest, and tell
Who has done this mis-fortune: gently
Exe. carry him in.
Honest Raph, he has some breath yet:
Would [...] had my blood-hound here.
Enter Sir Iohn Belfare Iustice Landby, and his daughter Iane▪ Isaac waiting.
Bel.
Y'are welcome Mr Landby, and mistresse Iane.
Where's the young Captayn si [...] your Nephew?
Iust
He went betimes to waite vpon the Bridgroome.
Bel.
They are inseperable friends, as they had
Diuided hearts, they both are glad, when eyther
Mee [...]e a good fortune.
Iane.
Ile be bold to see your daughter.
Bel.
Do mistresse Iane, she has
Her maides blush yet, she'le make you amends for this,
And ere't be long I hope 'dance at your wedding.
Exit Iane.
Iust.
I wish you many ioyes sir by this marriage:
Your daughter ha made discreet election,
She'le h [...]ue a hopefull Gentle-man.
Bel.
Master Lan [...]by,
It would refresh my age to see her fruitful to him,
I should finde a blessing for a young
[...]eaufor [...], and be glad to d [...]ndle him, the
First newes of a boy borne by my daughter
Would set me backe seauen yeares: O Master Landby,
[Page]Old men do neuer truely doate, vntill
Their children bring em babies.
Enter Mr. Rawbone, and Hauer as his seruant.
Isa.
Master Rawbone ▪ ile be bold to present you
With a peece of Rose-mary, we ha such cheere.
Raw.
Honest Isaac.
Isa.
Pray do you belong to Master Rawbone?
Hau
Yes sir.
Isa.
You haue eate something in your dayes.
Hau.
Why prethee?
Isa
Nothing, nothing,
D'ee vnderstand nothing, you shall eate nothing:
Vnlesse some Benefactors like my master,
In pitty of your bellies once a yeare
Do warme it with a dinner, you must neuer
Hope to see rost, of sod; he has within
This twelue month to my knowledge
Made seauen men immortall.
Hau.
How?
Isa.
Yes, he has made spirits on em,
And they haunt such mens houses as my masters,
Spirits ath'buttery, let me counsell yee
To cram your corpes to day, for by his Almanacke
There's a long Lent a comming.
Bel.
Neuer see me,
But when you are inuited.
Raw.
'Las I h [...]d
Rather eate a peece of cold Capon at home,
Th [...]n be troublesome abroad. I hope forsooth
Mist [...]sse Iane is as she shud be.
Iust
She is [...]n [...]ealth:
Bel.
Y'aue a fresh seruant master Rawbone,
A proper fellow, and maintaines himselfe
Hansomely.
Raw.
And he wod not ha maintain'd
[Page]Himselfe, I had neuer entertaind him.
Isa.
Where's Cameleon?
Raw.
I ha preferr'd him Isaac.
Isa.
How?
Raw.
Turnd him away last night,
And tooke this stripling.
Enter Captaine.
Cap.
Morrow sir Iohn, where is the early Bridegroom?
Iust.
Came not you from him?
Bel.
We expect him sir, euery minute.
Cap.
Not yet come? his seruants▪ told me
He went abroad before the morning blusht.
Rel.
We ha not seene him, pray heauen
He be in health.
Cap.
I wonder at his absence.
Raw.
Captayne Landby, young man of war, I do
Salute thee with a broad-side.
Cap.
D'ee heare, they
Say you come a woing to my Cosen,
That day you marry her, ile cut your throate,
Keep't to your selfe.
Hau.
Thou art a noble fellow; things may prosper.
Cap.
You come hither to wish C [...]n giue em ioy now.
Raw.
Yes marry do I.
Cap.
You do lye, you come to
Scoure your durty maw with the good cheere,
Which will be dam'd in your leane Barathruw,
That kitchin-stuffe deuourer.
Raw.
Why shud you
Say so Captaine? my belly did nere thinke
You any harme.
Cap.
When it does vomit vp thy heart
Ile prayse it, in the meane time would
Euery bit thou catst to day, were steept
In Aqua fortis.
Raw.
[Page]What is that Iasper?
Hau.
It is strong water.
Raw.
Noble Captayne, thankes yfaith hartily:
I was afraid you had beene angry.
Cap.
Ile ha thee sow'd vp in a
Mony-bagge, and boyld to ielly.
Raw.
You shall ha me at your seruice,
And my bags too, vpon good security:
Is not this better then quarrelling, Iasper, —
Enter Cardona.
Car.
Is not the Bride-groome come yet, sure he has ouer slept himselfe, there is nothing but wondring within, all the maydes are in vprore, one sayes he is a slow thing, another sayes, she knowes not what to say, but they all conclude, if euer they marry, they'le make it in their bargaine to be sure of all things before matrimony, fie vpon him, if I were to be his wife, i'de shew him a tricke for't, ere a yeare came about, or it should cost me a fall, I warrant him.
Exit.
Iust.
Sir Iohn y'are troubled.
Bel.
Can you blame me sir:
I would not haue our mornings expectation
Frustrate— I know not what to thinke.
Iust.
Sir, feare not.
Bel.
The morne growes old.
Iust.
Himen has long tapers.
Bel.
What should procure his absence; he departed
But odly yester-day.
Cap.
Marwood had engag'd him,
They promis'd to returne.
Bel.
But we see neither.
Iust.
They'le come together, make it not your feare,
Beauford [...] a Gentle-man, and cannot be
Guilty of doing such affront, vnlesse
Some mis-fortune—
Bel.
[Page]That's another iealousie.
Enter Lodam, Cameleon waiting vpon him.
Lod.
Where is Sir Iohn Belfare?
Bel.
Ha? Master Lodam,
W [...]lcome.
Lod.
I congratulate.—
Bel.
Saw you master Beauford sir.
Lod.
Yes I saw him, but—
Iust.
But what?
Lod.
I kn [...]w not how he does,
Where is the Lady that must be vndone to night,
Your daughter?
Bel.
My daughter vndone, name what vnhappines,
My heart already doth beginne to prophesie
How [...], name what disaster, giue it
Expression pray, what is the newes?
Lod.
The newes?
Why wo'd yee know the newes? tis none a'ch best.
Iust.
Be temperate then in your relation.
Bel.
What ist?
Lod.
They say for certayne,
There were fou [...]e and twenty Colliers cast away,
Comming from New-Castle tis cold newes ith' Citty,
But there is worse newes [...]broad.
Bel.
Doth it concerne my knowledge? trifle not.
Lod.
They say that Canary sacke, m [...]st dance
Agen to the Apothecaries, and be sold for
Physicke, in hum-glasses, and thin bles▪ that the
Spaw-water must be transported hither, and
Be drunke insteed of French wines:
For my part, I am but one.
Hau.
Big enough for two.
Lod.
This citadell may endure as long a siege
As another, if the pride of my flesh must be
Puld downe, farewell it t'has done me
[Page]Seruice this forty yeare: let it goe.
Bel.
Saw you master Beauford?
Lod.
Yes Sir Iohn,
I saw him but — twas three dayes agoe.
Cap.
Hee is ridiculous.
Iust.
Doe not afflict your selfe,
He will giue a faire account at his returne.
Bel.
Pray heauen hee may:
Enter Gratiana, Iane, and Cardona.
My daughter.
Raw.
Sir, I desire to be acquainted with you.
Lod.
I haue no stomacke sir to your acquaintance,
You are a thought too leane.
Raw.
And you a bit too fat.
Bel.
Dost not wonder girle at Beaufords absence?
Grats.
Not at all sir, I am not now to learne
Opinion of his noblenesse; and I hope
Your iudgements will not permit you sinne so much
To censure him for this stay. Faire morning
To master Landby, noble Captaine, master
Lodam, and the rest.
Raw.
I am so little
She cannot see me, giue you ioy forsooth,
I hope it is your destiny to be married.
Cap.
And yours to bee hang'd.
Raw.
How sir.
Hau.
No harme,
He wishes you long life.
Raw.
A long halter he does,
What to bee hang'd.
Hau.
Las sir he knows you ha no flesh to burden you,
Light at a feather, hanging will nere kill you,
If he had wish'd sir master Lodam hang'd.
Raw.
Then, ile to him and thanke him;
But here's mistresse Iane.
Cap.
[Page]You shal command me as your seruant.—sirra.
Exit. As he goes out, he sees Rawb. court Iane.
Raw.
I did but aske her how she did, I sayd
Neuer a word to her: Pox vpon his bounsing
I am as fearefull of him as of a Gun,
He does so powder me.
Grati.
We haue not seene
You sir, this great while, you fall away me-thinkes.
Lod
Loosing Lodam I.
Grati.
You are not the least welcome sir.
Lod.
I do giue you great thanke, and do meane to dance at your Wedding for't, I doe maruaile Master Beauford is not earlier, I shud ha beene here with musique Lady, and haue fidled you too, before you were vp, these leane Louers, ha nothing in em, slow men of London.
Bel.
Gratiana.
Lod spies Iane.
Lod.
Who's this? shee has a mortall eye.
Isa.
Cameleon? How now turn'd away your master.
Cam.
No, I sold my place; as I was thinking to runne away, comes this fellow, and offered me a breake-fast for my good will to speake to my Master for him, I tooke him at his word, and resigned my Office, and turn'd ouer my hunger to him immediately; now I serue a man, Isaac.
Bel.
Isaac.—
Exit Isaac as sent off.
Lod.
I do fore-see a fall of this tower already,
Loue beginnes to vnder-mine it.
Mistresse, a word in priuate.
Raw.
Iasper has't a sword.
Hau.
Yes sir.
Raw.
That's well, let it alone:
Didst see this paunch affront me?
Hau.
He did it in loue to the Gentle-woman.
Raw.
In loue? let me see the sword agen.
Drawes.
Wo'd twere in his belly — put it vp,
Thou deserust a good blade, tis so well kept.
Enter Isaac.
Isa.
Master Beauford, master Beauford.
Bel.
[Page]Where?
Isa.
Hard by, within a stones cast a my
Mistresse, here sit here.
Enter Beauford.
Grat.
My deerest Beauford, where hast bin so long?
Bea.
Oh Gratiana.
Grat.
Are you not in health?
Bel.
Not well, tis then no time to chide:
How fare you sir?
Bea.
I haue a trouble at my heart: pardon
The trespasse o' your patience Gentle-men,
He publish the occasion of my absence,
So first, you giue me leaue, to vnlade it here;
But with your fauour, I desire I may
Exempt all eares, but Gratianaes, till
A short time ripen it for your knowledge.
Bel.
Ha?
Iust.
Lets leaue 'em then a while.
Bel.
Into the Garden Gentle-men.
Raw.
Withall my heart:
In my conscience the 'ile be honest together.
Bel.
This begets my wonder, master Lodam.
Lod.
Good sir Iohn, ile waite vpon you,
It is dinner time.
Exeunt.
Bea.
I haue not time to dwell on circumstance,
I come to take my last leaue, you and I
Must neuer meete agen.
Grat.
What language do I heare,
If Beauford it should strike me dead?
Bea.
This day, I had design'd for marriage, but I must
Pronounce wee are eternally diuorc'd:
Oh Gratiana, thou hast made a wound
Beyond the cure of Surgery, why did nature
Empty her treasure in thy face, and leaue thee
A blacke prodiglous soule?
Grat.
Defend me goodnesse!
Bea.
[Page]Call vpon darknesse, to obscure thee rather,
That neuer more thou maist be seene by mortall,
Get thee some dwelling in a mist, or in
A wild forsaken earth, a Wildernesse,
Where thou maist hide thy selfe, and dye forgotten.
Grat.
Where was I lost name what offence prouok'd
This heauy doome, deare Beauford, be not so
Iniust, to sentence me, before I know
What is my crime, or if you will not tell
What sinne it is, I haue committed, great,
And horrid, as your anger; let me study,
Ile count em all before you, neuer did
Penitent, in confession, strip the soule
More naked, ile vnclaspe my booke of conscience,
You shall read ore my heart, and if you finde
In that great Volume, but one single thought
Which concern'd you, and did not end with some
Good prayer for you: Oh be iust and kill me.
Bea.
Be iust, and tell thy conscience, th'ast abus'd it
False woman, why dost thou increase thy horror?
By the obscuring a mis-deed, which wo'd
Were all thy other sinnes forgiuen, vndo thee
Oh Gratiana, thou art. —
Grat.
What am I?
Bea.
A thing I would not name, it sound so fearfully,
'Twould make a Diuell blush, to be saluted
By that, which thou must answere to.
Grat.
I feare—
Bea.
That feare betrayes thy guilt, tell me Gratiana
What didst thou see in me to make thee thinke
I was not worthy of thee, at thy best
And richest value, when thou were as white
In soule, as beauty? for sure, once thou wer [...] so:
Hadst thou so cheape opinion of my birth,
My breeding, or my fortunes, that none else
[Page]Could serue for propertie of your lust, but I?
Grat.
Deare Beauford heare me.
Bea.
A common father to thy sinne-got issue,
A patron of thy [...]ifled, vnchast wombe?
Oh tho [...] wert cruell, to reward so ill
The heart that truely honor'd thee: thy name
Which sweetn'd once the breath of him that spake it,
And musically charm'd the gentle eare;
Shall sound here-after like a Screech-owles note,
And fright the hea [...]er; Virgins shall lament
That thou hast sham'd their chast society,
And oft as Himen lights his tapers vp,
At the remembrance of thy name, shed teares,
And blush for thy dishonour: from this minute,
Thy friends shall count thee desperately si [...]ke,
And whensoere thou goest abroad, that day
The maides and matrons, thinking thou art dead,
And going to the graue, shall all come forth
And waite like mourners on thee.
Grat.
Ha yee done?
Then heare me a few sillables, you haue
Suspition that I am dishonourd.
Bea.
No,
By heauen I haue not, I haue too much knowledge
To suspect thee sinnefull, but in the assurance
Of it, I must disclayme thy heart for euer:
Gratiana my opinion of thy whitenesse
Hath made my soule, as blacke as thine already;
Weepe till thou wash away thy staine, and then,
I
[...]h'other world, we two, may meete agen.
Exit.
Grat.
Weepe inward eyes, hither your streames impart,
For sure, I haue teares enough, to drowne my heart.
Exit.
Actus Tertij. Scena Prima.
Enter Beauford and Captayne.
Cap.
You amaze me Beauford, Gratiana false?
I shall suspect the truth of my conception,
And thinke all women monsters, though I neuer
Lou'd with that neerenesse of affection
To marry any, yet I mourne they should
Fall from their vertue, why may not Marwood
Iniure her goodnesse?
Beau.
What, and damme his soule?
Shall I thinke any with his dying breath
Would shipwracke his last hope? he mixt it with
His praiers, when in the streame of his owne blood,
His soule was lanching forth.
Cap.
That circumstance takes away al suspition agen,
Where left you Marwood?
Bea.
I'the Parke.
Cap.
Quite dead?
Beau.
Hopelesse, his weapon might haue proued so happy,
To haue released me of a burthen too;
And but that man-hood, and the care of my
Eternity forbids, I would force out
That which but wearies me to carry it,
Vnwelcome life?
Cap.
VVould he were buried,
[Page]My feares perplex me for you; though none see
You fight, the circumstance must needes
Betray you: what's he.
Enter a Surgeon.
Sur.
I would borrow your eare in priuate.
Beau.
We are but one to heare, his loue hath
Made him? to great a part of my affliction:
Speake it.
Sur.
The body is taken thence.
Beau.
Ha.
Sur.
I cannot be deceiued sir: I beheld
Too plaine a demonstration of the place;
But he that suffred such a losse of blood,
Had not enough to maintayne life till this time,
Which way so ere his body was conuey'd:
I must conclude it short liu'd, I am sorry
I could not serue you.
Beau.
Sir,—I thanke you,
You deserue I should be gratefull:
giues him mony.
It must be so—
Exit Surgeon.
Cap.
What fellow's this?
Beau.
A Surgeon.
Cap.
Dare you trust him?
Beau.
Yes, with my life.
Cap.
You haue done that already in your discouery.
Pray heauen he prooue your friend.
You must resolue for flight, ye shall take ship—
Beau.
Neuer.
Cap.
Will you ruine your selfe? there's no security—
Beau.
There is not Captayne,
Therefore Ile not change my ayre.
Cap.
How?
Beau.
Vnlesse thou canst instruct me how to fly from
My selfe, for wheresoeuer else I wander,
I shall but carry my accuser with me.
Cap
Are you mad?
Beau.
I haue heard in Affrick [...], is a tree, which tasted
[Page]By trauailers, it breedes forgetfulnesse
Of their Country, canst direct me thither?
Yet 'twere in vaine, vnlesse it can extinguish,
And drowne the remembrance I am Beauford:
No — Ile not moue, let those poore things that dare not
Dye, obey their feares, I will expect my fate here.
Cap.
This is wildnesse,
A desperate folly, pray be sensible:—
Whose this, tis Gratiana.
Enter Gratiana with a Cabinet of Iewels.
Bea.
Ha, farwell.
Cam.
You shall stay now a little.
Bea.
I will not heare an accent, I shall loose
My memory, be charmed into beliefe
That she is honest with her voyce, I dare not
Trust my frailty with her.
Cam.
She speakes nothing,
Is all a weeping Nyobe, a st [...]tue,
Or in this posture, doth shee not present
A water Nymph▪ placed in the midst of some
Faire Garden, like a Fountaine to dispence
Her Christal streames vpon the flowers? which cannot
But so refresht, looke vp, and seeme to smile
Vpon the eyes that feed em:
Will she speake?
Grat.
Though by the effusion of my teares, you may
Conclude, I bring nothing but sorrow with me,
Yet heare me speake, I come not to disturbe
Your thoughts, or with one bold and daring language
Say how vniust you make my sufferings:
I know not what
Hath raised this mighty storme to my destruction,
But I obey your doome, and after this,
Will neuer see you more. First I release
And giue you back your vowes; with them, your har [...] ▪
[Page]Which I had lock'd vp in my owne, and cherisht
Better, mine I'm sure does bleed to part with't,
All that is left of yours, this Cabinet
Deliuers backe to your possession,
There's euery iewell you bestowed [...]pon me,
The pledges once of loue.
Bea.
Pray keepe em.
Grat.
They are not mine, since I haue lost the opinion
Of what I was, indeed I haue nothing else,
I would not keepe the kisses, once you gaue me,
If you would let me pay them backe againe.
Beau.
All women is a laborinth, we can,
Measure the height of any starre, point out
All the dimensions of the earth, examine
The Seas large wombe, and sounds its subtle depth,
But arte will nere be able to finde out,
A demonstration of a womans heart,
Thou hast enough vndone me, make me not
More miserable, to beleeue thou canst be vertuous:
Farwell, enioy you this, I shall finde out
Another roome to weepe in.
Exit.
Cap.
Lady I would aske you a rude question:
Are you a maide?
Grat.
Do I appeare so Monstrous? no man will
Beleeue my iuiury: has heauen forgot
To protect innocence, that all this while
It hath vouchsafed no miracle, to confirme
A Virgins honour?
Cap.
I am answered:
I do beleeue shees honest; Oh that I could
But speake with Marwoods ghost now, and thou beest
In hell, I'de meete thee halfe way, to conuerse
One quarter of an houre with thee, to know
The truth of all things, thy Diuell Iaylour
May trust thee without a waiter, he has security
[Page]For thy damnation in this sinne alone,
I me f [...]ll of pitty now, and spite of man-hood
Cannot forbeare, come Lady, I am confident,
I know not which way —that y'are vertuous—
Pray walke with mee, ile tell you the whole story;
For yet you know not your accuser.
Grat.
I am an exile hence, and cannot walke
Out of my way, Beauford farwell, may Angels
Dwell round [...]bout thee, liue vn [...]ill thou find,
When I am dead, thou hast bin too vnkind.
Exeunt.
Enter Milisent and Mistris Iane.
Iane.
May I beleeue thee Milisent, that my father
Though hee giue such respect to him I hate,
Inten [...]s no marriage? thou hast releast
My heart of many feares, that I was destin'd
To be a sacrifice.
Mil.
It had beene sinne
That Milisent should suffer you perplexe
Your noble soule, when it did consist in
His discouery, to giue a freedome
To your labouring thoughts, tis now no more a secret,
Y [...]ur father makes a triall of your nature,
By giuing him such countenance.
Iane.
What thankes shall I giue?
Mil.
Your vertue hath both vnseal'd
My bosome, and rewarded me.
Iane
Oh Milisent:
Thou hast deseru'd my gratitude; and I cannot
But in exchange of thy discouery
Giue to thy knowledge, what I should tremble
To let another heare; for I dare trust thee with it.
Mil.
If I haue any skill
In my owne nature, shall nere deceiue
[Page]Your confidence, and thinke my selfe much honor'd,
So to be made your treasurer.
Iane.
Tis a treasure,
And all the wealth I haue, my life, the summe
Of all my ioyes on earth, and the expectation
Of future blessings too depend vpon it.
Mil.
Can I be worthy of so great a trust?
Ian [...].
Thou art, and shalt receiue it, for my hear [...]
Is willing to discharge it selfe into thee:
Oh Milisent! though my father would ha beene
So cruell to his owne, to haue wished me marry
Him, twas not in the power of me obedience
To giue consent to't, for my loue already
Is dedicate to one, whose worth hath made
Me, but his steward of it, and although
His present fortune doth ecclipse his lustre,
With seeming condition of a seruant,
He has a minde deriued from honour, and
May boast himselfe a Gentle-man: is not
Thy vnderstanding guilty of the person
I point at? [...]ure thou canst not choose but know him.
Mil.
Not I.
Enter Hauer.
Iane.
Then looke vpon him Milisent.
Mil.
Ha?
Hau.
My master, mistresse Iaue sent me before,
To say, be comes to visite you.
Iane.
But thou art before him in acceptance, nay
You stand discouered here, in Milisent you may
Repose sa [...]e trust.
Hau.
Her language makes me confident,
You are a friend.
Mil.
To both a feruant.
Hau.
I shall desire your loue.
Iane.
But where's this man of morgages?
[Page]We shall be troubled now
Hau.
I left him chawing the cud, ruminating
Some speech or other, with which, he meanes to
Arrest you.
Mil.
He is entred.
Enter Rawbone.
Hau.
I haue prepar'd her.
Raw.
Fortune be my guide then.
Hau.
And she's a blind one.
Raw.
Mistresse Iane, I would talke with you in priuate, I haue fancied a businesse, I know you are witty, and loue inuention, tis my owne, and no-body else must heare it —
Be it knowne to all men by these presents.
Ian.
This is like to be a secret.
Raw.
That I Iasper Rawbone Citizen, and House-keeper of London.
Hau.
A very poore one I'me sure.
Raw.
Do owe to mistresse Iane, Lady of my thoughts, late of London Gentle-woman.
Hau.
Is she not still a Gentle-woman?
Raw.
Still a Gentle-woman good-man Coxe-combe? did I not say she was Lady of my thoughts? where was I now?
Hau.
At good-man Coxe-combe sir.
Raw.
— Do owe to mistresse Iane, Lady of my thoughts, late of London Gentle-woman, my true and lawfull heart of England —to be payd to his sayd mistresse, her executors, or assignes.
Hau.
To her executors? what will you pay your heart, when she is dead?
Raw.
Tis none of my fault, and she will dye, who can helpe it? thou dost nothing but interrupt me: I say to be payd, to his sayde mistresse, her executors, or assignes, whensoeuer she demaund it, at the font-stone of the Temple—
Hau.
Put it, the top of Paules and please you; your conceite wilbe the higher.
Raw.
Which payment to bee truely made and performed, I [Page] bind, not my heires, but my body and soule for euer.
Hau.
How your soule sir?
Raw.
Peace foole, my soule will shift for it selfe, when I am dead that wilbe sure enough: — In witnesse whereof, I haue here-vnto put my hand and seale, which is a hansome spiny youth, with a bag of mony in one hand, a bond in the t'other, an Indenture betweene his legs, the last of the first merry moneth, and in the second yeare of the raigne of King Cupid.
Hau.
Excellent! but in my opinion, you had better giue her possession of your heart, I do not like this owing: fayth plucke it out, and deliuer it in the presence of vs.
Raw.
Thou talk'st like a puisne, I can giue her possession of i [...], by deliuery of two-pence wrapt vp in the wax, twill hold in Law man; —and how, and how d'ee like it? I could haue come ouer you with Verse, but hang Ballads, giue me Poeticall prose, euery Mounte-banke can time, and make his lines crye twang, though there be no reason in em.
Ian.
What Musique haue I heard?
Raw.
Musique? Oh rare!
Ian.
Hee has Medusaes noble countenance,
His haires do curle like soft and gentle Snakes:
Did euer puppy smile so? or the Asse
Better become his eares? oh generous beast
Of sober carriage, sure he's valiant too,
Those blood-shot eyes betray him, but his nose
Fishes for commendation.
Raw.
What does she meane Iasper?
Hau.
D'ee not see her loue sir? why she does doate vpon you, Which makes her talke so madly.
Raw.
Forsooth I know you are taken with me, alas these things are naturall with me, when shall we be married forsooth?
Ian.
With your licence sir—
Hau.
D'ee not obserue her? you must first procure a Licence.
Raw.
You shall heare more from mee, when I come agen— Iasper —
Exit Rawbone hastily.
Hau.
[Page]My heart doth breath it selfe vppon your hand—
Exit.
Mil.
Your father and Master Lodam ▪—
Enter Lodam, Iustice, Cameleon.
Lod.
Sir I doe loue your daughter:— I thought it necessary to acquaint you first, because I would go about the businesse iudicially.
Iust.
You obliege vs both.
Lod.
Ile promise you one thing.
Iust.
What▪s that?
Lod.
Ile bring your daughter no wealth.
Iust.
Say you so: what then you promise her nothing.
Lod.
But I will bring her that which is greater then wealth.
Iust.
What's that?
Lod.
My selfe.
Iust.
A faire ioynture.
Lod.
Nay, ile bring her more.
Iust.
It shu'not neede, no woman can desire mo [...]e of a man.
Lod.
I can bring her good qualities, if sh [...] want any: I ha trauail'd for em.
Iust.
What are they?
Lod.
The Langu [...]ges.
Iust.
You susp [...]ct shee will want tongue: —let me see— Parlez franzois monsieur.
Lod.
Diggon a cam [...]ag.
Iust.
That's We [...]ch.
Lod.
Pocas palabras.
Iust.
That's Spanish.
Lod.
Troth I haue such a confusion of languages in my head, you must e'en take em as they come.
Iust.
You may speake that more exactly—Hauelar spagni [...]l Signior?
Lod.
Serge-dubois, —Calli-mancho, et Perpetu-ana.
Iust.
There's stuffe indeede, since you are so perfect, Ile trust you for the rest. I must referre you sir vnto my daughter, if you can winne her faire opinion, my consent my happily follow: so [Page] Shee is in presence —
Lod.
Me [...]cie Madame—
Salutes Iane.
Iust.
This fellow lookes like the principall in Vsury, and this Rat followes him like a pittifull eight in the hundred: —come hither s [...]ra, your name is Cameleon.
Cam.
It is too true sir.
Iust.
You did liue with master Rawbone.
Car.
No sir, I did starue with him, and please you:
I could not liue with him.
Iust.
How doe you like your change?
Cam.
Neuer worse.
Iust.
Master Lodam wants no flesh.
Cam.
But I doe: — I ha no Iustice sir, my leane master would eate no mea [...]e, and my fat master eates vp all — is your Worships house troubled with Vermin?
Iust.
Something at this time.
Cam.
Peace and ile catch a mouse then. —
lies downe.
Enter Captaine and Gratiana.
Iust.
My nephew turn'd Gentle-man Vsher.
Cap.
Sir Iohn Belfares daughter.
Iust.
'Las poore Gentle-woman,
I compassionate her vnkind destiny.
Cap.
Let vs intreat a word in priuate sir—
Lod.
I cannot tell how you stand affected, but if you can loue a man, I know not what is wanting, greatnesse is a thing that your wisest Ladies haue an itch after: for my owne part I was neuer in loue before, and if you haue me not, neuer wilbee agen. Thinke on't betweene this and after dinner, I will stay o'purpose for your answere.
Ian.
Y'are very short.
Lod.
I wod not be kept in expectation aboue an houre, for loue is worse then a Lent to me, and fasting is a thing my flesh abhorres, if my do [...]blet be not fi [...]'d, I know who fa [...]es the worse for't. I would keepe my flesh to sweare by, and if you and I cannot agree vpon the matter, I would loose nothing by you.
Iane.
[Page]Y'are very resolute.
Lod.
Euer while you liue, a fat man, and a man of resolution goe together: I doe not commend my selfe, but there are no such fiery things in nature.
Iane.
Fiery?
Lod.
Tis prou'd, put em to my action, and see, if they do not smoake it, they are men of mettle, and the greatest melters in the World, one hot seruice makes em rost, and they haue enough in em to bast a hundred — you may take a leane man, marry your selfe to famine, and beg for a great belly, you see what became of sir Iohns daughter: —come I would wish you be well aduis'd, there are more commodities in me, then you are aware of, if you and I couple, you shall fare like an Empresse.
Iane.
That will be somewhat costly.
Lod.
Not a token. I haue a priuiledge: — I was at the Tauerne tother day, i'the next roome I smelt hot Venison, I sent but a D [...]awer to tell the Company, one in the house with a great belly, long'd for a corner, and I had halfe a pasty sent me immediately: I will hold intelligence with all the Cookes i'the Towne, and what dainty, but I haue greatnesse enough to command?
Iust.
I like it well: — be as wel-come heere, as at your Fathers. Milisent —make it your care to waite vpon this Gentlewoman, but conceale shee is our guest. I should reioyce to see this storme blowne ouer. —Nephew attend her to her Chamber.
Exe [...]nt Gratiana, Captaine, Milisent.
Enter Rawbone and Hauer hastily.
Raw.
I ha bin about it—
iustles Lodam, and fals downe.
Lod
Next time you ride post, wind your horne, that one may get out a'the way.
Iust.
What's the matter Iane.
Raw.
Tis guts, if I durst, my teeth waters to strike him.
Iust.
What ha you done?
Lod.
Let him take heed another time.
Hau.
Take such an affront before your mistresse.
Raw.
I haue a good stomacke —
Hau.
That's well sayd.
Raw.
I could eate him.
Hau.
Oh is it that?
Lod.
Let me alone, no-body hold me.
Raw.
[Page]Ile haue an action of battery.
Lod.
Whorson mole-catcher —
Come not neere me Weezel.
Raw.
Prethee Iasper do not thrust me vpon him—
I do not feare you sit.
Lod.
Agen shall I kicke thee to peeces.
Hau.
Let him b [...]ffu [...]ly [...]e—to him—
Hauer thrusts him vpon him.
Raw.
I do not feare you.
Iust.
Iane remooue your selfe.
Iane.
Master Rawbone, I am sorry for your hurt.
Exit.
Hau.
She jeeres you.
Lod.
For this time I am content with kicking of thee.
As Lodam offers to goe out, Hauer puls him backe.
Hau.
My master desires another word w'ee sir.—
You must fight with him—
To Rawbone.
Raw.
Who I fight?
Lod.
You spider catcher, ha you not enough? you see I doe not draw.
Iust.
Very well.
Hau.
By this hand, you shall challenge him then, if hee dare accep [...]t, ile meete him in your clothes.
Raw.
Will yee. Hum —I do not feare you—satisfaction—
Hau.
That's the word.
Raw.
That's the word—youle meete me guts.
Lod.
Meete thee by this flesh, if thou dost but prouoke me: —you do not challenge me—do not—d'ee long to be minc'd?
Hau.
At Finsbury —
Raw.
At Finsbury.
Hau.
To morrow morning —
Raw.
To morrow morning—you shall finde I dare fight.
Lod
Say but such another word.
Raw.
Finsbury, to morrow morning, there tis agen —
Iust.
I cannot contayne my laughter, ha, ha, ha.
Ex [...]
Raw.
So, lets begon [...] quickly, before he threaten me, yo [...] made mee challenge him, looke to't.
Hau.
[Page]Feare not, I warrant you.
Exeunt Raw & Hauer.
Lod.
Sirra Nouerint, if I can but prooue, thou dost come with in three furlongs of a wind-mill, ile set one a top of Paules to watch thee—sha't forfeit thy soule, and ile cancell thy body worse then any debtor of thine did his obligation—hee's gone—and now I thinke vpon the matter, I haue somewhat the worst on't, for if I should kill him, I shall neuer bee able to flye, and hee has left a peece of his scull, I thinke, in my shoulder — whither am I bound to meet him, or no? I will consult some o'the sword men, and know whether it be a competent challenge— Cameleon.
Cam.
Sir.
Lod.
Has the Rat, your master that was, any spirit in him?
Cam.
Spirit? the last time hee was in the field, aboy of seauen yeares old, beate him with a Trap-sticke.
Lod.
Saist thou so? I will meet him then, and hew him to peeces.
Cap.
I haue an humble suite—if it be so, that you kill him, let me beg his body for an Anatomy, I haue a great mind to eate a peece on him.
Lod.
Tis granted, follow me, ile cut him vp I warrant thee.
Exe.
Enter Beauford, and Captayne.
Cap.
I haue a letter.
Beau.
From whom?
Cap.
Gratiana.
Bea.
I would forget that name, speake it no more.
Cap.
She is abus'd, and if you had not beene
Transported from vs, with your passion,
You would ha chang'd opinion, to haue heard
How well she pleaded.
Bea.
For her-selfe.
Cap.
You might,
With little trouble gather from her teares
How cleare she was, which more transparent, then
The morning dew, or christall, fell neglected
Vpon the ground: some cunning Ieweller
To ha seene em scattred, would a thought some Princesse
[Page]Dropt em, and couetous to enrich himselfe,
Gathered them vp for Dyamonds.
Beau.
You are then conuerted.
Cap.
Oh you were too credulous.
Marwood has playd the Vilaine, and is damn'd for't▪
Could but his soule be brought to heare her answere
The accusation, she wo'd make that blush,
And force it to confesse a treason, to
Her honour, and your loue.
Beau.
You did beleeue her.
Cap.
I did, and promis'd her to do this seruice,
She begd of me at parting, if she sent
A letter, to conuey it to your hand,
Pray read, you know not what this paper carrie [...].
Beau.
Has shee acquainted you?
Cap.
Not me, I guesse,
It is some secret, was not fit for my
Relation, it may be, worth your knowledge;
Do her that iustice, since you would not heare
What she could say in person, to peruse
Her paper.
Rea.
It can bring nothing to take off
Th' offence committed.
Cap.
Sir you knew not
What satisfaction it contaynes▪
Or what she may confesse in't▪ for my sake—
Reads▪
Beau.
To him that was — what?
Confident of her Vertue
Once an admirer, now a maurner for
Her absent goodnesse: she has made the change.
From her that was, would [...] become this paper
Had she conseru'd her first immaculate whitenesse,
It had beene halfe prophane, not to salute
Her letter with a kisse, and touch it, with
More veneration then a Sybil [...] leaf [...] ▪
[Page]But now all Ceremony must be held
A superstition, to the blotted scrole,
O a more stained writer — Ile not reade:
If vnprepar'd, she win with her Discourse,
What must she do, when she has time, and study,
To apparrell her defence?
Cap.
Deny her this.
Beau.
Well, I will read it.
Enter Seruant.
Ser.
Here's Sir Iohn Belfare.
Beau.
Say any thing t'excuse me, beet your care
That none approach the Chamber.
Cap.
So, so, now vnrip the seale.
Enter Sir Iohn Belfare, Isaac.
Bel.
Not speak with him, he must haue stronger guard
To keepe me out: where's Beauford?
Beau.
Here.
Bel.
Then there's a Villaine.
Beau.
That's course language.
Bel.
I must not spin it finer, till you make me
Vnderstand better, why my daughter, and
In her, my family is abus'd.
Beau.
Shee has not then accus'd her selfe—Ile tell you,
I did expect your daughter would haue beene
My Virgin bride; but she reseru'd for me
The ruines of her honour, I wod not speake
I'the rude dialect, you may sooner collect,
An English.
Bel.
Is she not honest, will you
Make her then a whore?
Beau.
No [...] I, her owne sinne made her.
Bel.
[Page]Thou lyest, nor can my age make me appeare
Vnworthy a satisfactio [...] from thy sword.
Isa.
Does not he call my young mistresse whore?
Bel.
Keep me not from him Captaine he has in this
Giuen a fresh wound, I came t'expostulate,
The reason of a former suffering,
Which vnto this was charity, as thou art
A Gentle-man, I dare thee to the Combate:
Contemne not Beauford my gray haires, if t'has [...]
A Noble soule, keepe not this distance; meete me,
Thou art a Souldier: for heauens sake, permit me
Chastise the most vncharitable slander
Of this bad man.
Beau.
I neuer iniur'd you.
Bel.
Not iniur'd me? what is there then in nature,
Left, to be cald an iniury? didst not mocke
Me, and m [...] poore fond girle with marriage?
Till all things were design'd, the very day
When Hymen should haue worne his saffron robe:
My friends inuited, and prepar'd to call
Her Bride; and yet, as if all this could not
(Summ'd vp together) make an iniury:
Does thy corrupted soule at last conspire
To take her white name from her? —giue me leaue
To expresse a Father, in a teare, or two,
For my wrong'd child. O Beauford! thou hast rob [...]
A father, and a daughter—but I wo not
Vsurpe heauens iustice, which shall punish thee
'Boue my weake arme; mayst thou liue, to haue
Thy heart as ill rewarded, to be a father
At my yeares, haue one daughter, and no more
Belou'd as mine, so mock'd, and then cald Whore.
Cap.
'Las good old man.
Exit Bel. Isaac.
Bea.
My afflictions
Are not yet numbred in my fate, nor I
Cap.
Now read the Letter.
Beau.
Yes, it cannot make me know more misery.
Reads.
Beauford, I dare not call thoe mine, though I could not hope, (while I was liuing,) thou wouldst beleeue my innocence, deny me [...] no [...] this fauour after Death, to say I once lou'd thee— H [...] death? Captaine is she dead?
Cap.
I hope shee employd not me, to bring this newes.
Beau.
Yes, Death — ha?
Prethee read the rest: there's something
In my eyes, I cannot well distinguish
Her small Characters.
Cap.
My Accuser by this time, knowes the reward of my iniury [...] Farewell, I am carrying my Prayers for thee to another World— her owne Martyr, drown'd Gratiana.
Beau.
Read all.
Cap.
I haue.
Beau.
It cannot be, for when thou mak'st an end,
My heart should giue a tragicke period,
And with a loud sigh breake: drown'd [...]
Twas no sinne aboue heauens pardon▪
Though thou hadst beene false,
To thy first vow, and me, I wod not had
Thee dyed so soone▪ or if thou hadst affected
That death, I could ha drownd thee with my teares,
Now they shall neuer find thee, but be lost
Within thy watery Sepulcher.
Cap.
Take comfort.
Beau.
Art dead?
Then here ile Coffin vp my selfe, vntill
The Law vnbury me for Marwoods death,
I wo [...]t hope for life, mercy sha' not saue
Him, that hath now a pattent for his Graue.
Exeunt.
Actus Quarti. Scena Prima.
Enter Milisent and Gratiana.
Mil.
Tis his command to whom I owe all seruice,
I should attend you.
Grat.
Th'art too diligent:
I prethee leaue me.
Mil.
I should be vnhappy
To be offensiue in my duty; yet
Had I no charge vpon me, I should much
Desire to waite.
Grat.
On mee?
Mil.
I know not why,
Your sorrow does inuite me.
Grat.
Th'art too young,
To be acquainted wo't.
Mil.
I know, it wod not
Become my distance, to dispute with you,
At what age, we are fittest to receiue
Our griefes impression.
Grat.
Leaue me to my selfe—
Mil.
I must, if you will haue it so.
offers to go out.
Grat.
Me thought
I saw him drop a teare, come backe agen:
What should he meane by this vnwillingnesse
To part; he lookes, as he would make me leaue
[Page]My owne mis-fortune to pitty his:
Thy name?
Mil.
I am called Milisent.
Grat
Dost thou put on that countenance to imitate
Mine? or hast a sorrow of thy owne, thou
Wouldst expresse by't.
Mil.
Mine does become my fortune.
Yet yours does so exactly paint out misery
That he, that wanted of his owne, would mourne
To see your picture.
Grat.
Mine is aboue
The common leuell of affliction.
Mil.
Mine had no example to be drawne by,
I would they were a kin, so I might make
Your burden lesse by mine owne suffering.
Grat.
I thanke thy loue.
Mil.
And yet I prophesie,
There's something would make mine a part of yours,
Were they examin'd.
Grat.
Passion makes thee wild now.
Mil.
You haue encouraged me to boldnes, pardon
My ruder language.
Grat.
Didst thou euer loue?
Mil.
Too soon [...], from thence sprung my vnhappines.
Grat.
And mine.
Mil.
My affliction riper then my yeares,
Hath brought me so much sorrow, I doe not thinke
That I shall liue, to be a man.
Grat.
I like thy sad expression, weele conuerse
And mingle stories.
Mil.
I shall be too bold.
Grat.
Wee lay aside distinctions, if our fates
Make vs alike in our mis-fortunes; yet
Mine will admit no paralell: ha! we are interrupted:
Enter Iustice reading a Letter.
Lets with-draw, and ile begin.
Mil.
[Page]You may commaund, and when
Your stories done, mine shall maintayne the Scene.
Exeunt.
Iust.
To maintayne such blisse I will,
Wish to bee trans-formed still:
Nor wilt bee a shame in loue,
reads,
Since I imitate but Ioue;
Who from heauen hath strayd, and in
A thousand figures worse then mine,
Woed a Virgin, may not I,
Then for thee a seruant trye:
Yes for such a mayde as thee,
Vary as many shapes as hee;
Rawbone cloathes my out-ward part,
But thy liuery my heart:
Hauer, ha: young Hauer?
This Letter I found in my Daughters prayer Booke, is this your Saint? how long ha they conspir'd thus? Report gaue out, hee was gone to trauaile: It seemes he stayes here for a Wind, and in the meane time would rigge vp my Daughter: hee is a Gentleman well educated; but his Fortune was consum'd by a prodigall father, ere he was ripe, which makes him I suspect; borrow this shape to court my Daughter; little does Rawbone thinke his seruaunt is his riuall: I finde the iugling, and will take order they shanot steale a marriage.
Enter Captayne.
Nephew, I ha newes for you.
Cap.
For mee sir.
Iust.
You are a Souldier, there's a duell to
Be fought this morning, will you see't?
Cap.
It does not sir become a Gentle-man
To be spectator of a fight, in which
Hee's not engag'd.
Iust.
You may behold it Cosen,
Without disparagement to your honor; Rawbone
Has challeng'd Mr. Lodam, the place Fins [...]ury —
Cap.
[Page]They fight? a doublet, stuft with straw, aduancing
A bull-rush, were able to fright em both
Out a'their sences, tha'not soule enough
To skirmish with a field-mouse; they poynt a duell?
At Hogs-don, to shew fencing vpon Creame
And cake-bread, murder a quaking Custard,
Or some such daring enemy.
Iust.
Did not
Affaires of weight compell me to be absent,
I would not misse the sight, on't; for the Vsurer
Hath got his man Iasper t [...]appeare for him
In his apparrell.
Cap.
Iasper.
Iust.
For mirths sake
You may behold it, and let mee entreate,
At your returne, perfect relation
Of both their valours.
Cap.
You shall Sir.
Iust.
And Coze—
If it be possible, procure em hither
Before they shift, I much desire to see em.
Cap.
Promise your selfe they shall: I will deferre
My conference with Gratiana, and
Intertayne this recreation.
Iust.
So: I haue a fancy,
This opportunity will giue it birth,
If all hit right, it may occasion mirth.
Exit.
Enter Milisent, and Gratiana.
Grat.
Which part of my discourse compels thee to
This suffering?
Mil.
Your pardon Lady, I
Did prophesie what now I finde, our stories
Haue dependanc [...]
Grat.
How prethee?
Mil.
That Marwood
Whom you report thus wounded had a neere
[Page]Relation to me, and twas my fortune
To come to close his eyes vp, and receiue
His last breath.
Grat.
Ha?
Mil.
I know more then Beauford,
And dying he oblieg'd my loue to tell t'him
When ere wee met.
Grat.
You beget wonder in me:
Did he suruiue his slander? there is hop [...]
He did reca [...]t the iniury he did me.
Mil.
He did confirme, he had enioy'd your person,
And bad me tell Beauford hee left behind
A liuing witnesse of the truth he dyed for:
Naming a Gentle-woman Cardona,
That bred you in your fathers house, whom he
Affirm'd, betray'd your body to his lust.
Grat.
Cardona?
Piety has forsaken earth:
Was euer woman thus betray'd to sinne,
Without her knowledge?
Mil.
W [...]'d he had not beene
My kinsman, I beginne to feare him:
Grat.
Wherein had I offended Marwood,
He should aliue, and dead so persecute
My fame? Cardona too i'the Conspiracy,
Tis time to dye then.
Mil.
My heart mournes for you
In the assurance of your innocence,
And were I worthy to direct you—
Grat.
Has, mali [...]e
Found out another murderer?
Mil.
Would you be pleas'd to heare me, I could poynt
You out a path, would bring you no repentance
To walke in, if (as I am confident)
Your goodnesse feares not, what Cardona can
[Page]Accuse your honour with, let her be
Examin'd, the [...] her knowledge will quit you,
Or make yo [...]r s [...]ffe [...]ing appeare iu [...]t, this is
An easie triall, and since Marwood had
A stubborne soule, for though he were [...]y kins-man
I preferre iustice, and held [...]ham to checke
His owne report, women haue softer natures,
And things may be so manag'd, if there be
A treason, to enfo [...]ce confession from her:
Would you please t'imploy me in this [...]eruice,
And though vnworthy be directed by me,
I begge it from you, ile engage my being
You shall finde com [...]ort in't.
Grat.
Doe any thing;
But I am lost already.
Mil.
You much honour me.
Exeunt.
Enter Lodam, and Cameleon.
Lod.
Cam, see and if he be come yet, bring mee word hither.
Cam.
I see one lying o'the ground —
Lod.
Is there so? lets steale way before we be discouered, I do not like when m [...]n lye p [...]rdue, beside, there may be three or foure of a heape, for ought we know: lets backe I say.
Cam.
Tis a horse.
Lod.
Hang him iade, I knew it could bee nothing else: is the coast cleare Cameleon?
Cam.
I see nothing but fiue or sixe.
Lod.
Fiue or sixe: treachery! an ambush, tis valour to runne.
Cam.
They bee Wind-mill [...].
Lod.
And yet, thou wo [...]'st perswade me, twas an ambush for me.
Cam.
I?
Lod.
Come thou wert afraide, and the truth were knowne; but be valiant: I haue a sword; and if I doe draw▪ it shall—be against my will: is he not come yet?
Cam.
And hee were betweene this and More-gate, you might sent him.
Lod.
If he come, some body sha [...]l smell [...]ll [...]auouredly, [...]re he and I part:—ha! by this [...]sh tis he; Cam, go [...]ell him I am sicke.
[Page] Enter Ha
[...]er, Rawbone, (
hauing chang'd cloathes) Captaine.
Hau.
Master Lodam.
Lod
A brace of bullets to my heare.
Cap.
Here can I stand and behold the Champions.
Lod.
I haue expected you this two hour [...]s, which is more then I had one to all the men I ha fought withall, since I slew the high Germaine in Tutle.
Cap.
Wh [...]rson, moale-cather.
Lod.
Draw Spider.
Cap.
Wel [...] [...]y [...] toade.
Hau.
Let vs c [...]nferre a little.
Lod.
Con [...]erie me no conferrings: I will haue no more mercy on thee, then an Infidell: and t'hadst beene wise, thou mightest ha kept thee at home, with thy melanchol [...]y Cat, that keepes thy Study, with whom thou art in Commons, and doest feede on Rats a Sundayes; then perhaps a legge or an arme, with thy Iewes eares had satisfied me, when I met thee next: draw I say, why doest not draw?
Hau
I come to giue you satisfaction.
Lod.
What with words?
Sirra Tartar, my Foxe shall scratch thy guts out, which I will send to the Beare-Garden: Doest heare Vsuring dog, ile tell thee my resolution. I doe meane to giue thee as many Wounds before I kill thee, as a Surgeons signe has; and when I am weary of skarrifying thy flesh, ile bore thy heart — which done: mark what I say; I will diuide thy quarters: obserue and tremble; then will I ha thee put into a tub or Barrell, and powder thee, and after three dayes in pickle, this thing that was thy seruant, this Cacodemon whom thou didst statue once, Cameleon, shall in reuenge of his pityfull famine, eate thee vp, deuoure thee, and grow fat i'the ribs agen with thy flesh. Mammon —
Cam.
I hungrily thanke your Worship.
Raw.
What haue I s [...]apt?
aside.
Lod.
Which is more, after thou art dead, I wonot leaue thy [Page] soule quiet, ile torment thy Ghost: for I will streight to thy house where I will breake open thy Chests, lin'd with white and yellow mettle, which I will cast away on pious vses: then summon all thy debrors by a Drum, and giue em in, all their Bills, Bonds, Euidences, Indentures, Defesances, Morgages, Statutes.
Raw.
I shall be vndone.—
Lod.
And there were a million on em.
Raw.
Ile home, and shut vp my doores, for feare he kill Iasper and vse me so indeede.
Cap.
If thou doest offer to looke home agen, till they ha done, ile cut thee off at thigh.
Raw.
Ah—
Lod.
Draw I say.
Hau.
Since there is no remedy.
Lod.
His sword appeares Cam.
Cam.
If he were a coward you were able to coniure a spirit into him, with those threatnings.
Lod.
Pox a'my dulues: dost heare scoundrell, if I should incline to mercy, what submission? ha? let mee see — I, I, liue, thou shalt vpon thy knees confesse thy rascality, and aske me forgiuenesse in priuate, in the presence of mistresse Iane, and the twelue Companies which at thy charge shalbe feasted that day, in More-fields.
Hau.
That must not be.
Lod.
Then say when thou art dead, thou wer [...] offred conditions for thy life: Cam, thou shalt feed, and feed high Cameleon,— let me see; —come tis my foolish nature to ha compassion o'thee, I know th'art sorry, shat onely confesse thy selfe a rascall vnder thy hand then, and stay my in ended reuenge which else would ha beene immortall.
Hau.
Let me consider.
Lod.
Oh [...] Cam.—
Cap.
Both cowards, we shall haue no skirmish.
Raw.
Now I thinke on't, what if my man Iasper, should be valiant and kill Lodam—umh? what pickle were I in: worse-worse, hee'le runne away, I shall bee taken and hang'd for the Conspiracy.
Puls Haue, by the sleen [...]. r
[Page] Ah— Iasper, [...]ogue that I was, where were my braines to challenge him—he wonot heare — a stubborne knaue, he lookes as if he meant to kill: ah Iasper.
Cap.
I ha seene a dogge looke like him, that has drawne a Wicker bottle, ratling about the streetes, and leering on both sides, where to get a quiet corner to bite his tayle off.
Raw.
I doe imagine my selfe apprehended already: now the Constable is carrying me to New-gate—now, now▪ I me at the Sessions house, i'the Docke:—now I'me cald—not guilty my Lord:— the Iury has found the indicement Billa vera— now, now comes my sentence.
Hau.
I am resolu'd sir.
Raw.
Ha.—
Hau.
You shall haue what acknowledgement, this pen of steele will draw out in your flesh, with red inke, and no other, deare master Lodam.
Lod.
How?
Cap.
So, so.
Raw.
Now I'me i'the Cart, riding vp Holborne in a two wheel'd Chariot, with a guard of Halberdiers: there goes a proper fellow sayes one: good people pray for me: now I am at the three Wodden stilts.—
Lod.
Is this Rawbone the Coward?
Doest heare thing— consider what thou doest, come among friends, thy word shall bee as good as a note vnder thy [...]nd, [...] not my fury—wod I were off, with asking him forgiuenesse.
Raw.
Hey! now I feele my toes hang i'the Cart:
Now tis drawne away, now, now, now,
Hau.
You must shew your fencing.
Lod.
Hold: I demaund a par [...]e.
Hau.
How?
Lod.
Tis not for your reputation to deale with a
Gentle-man vpon vnequall termes.
Hau.
[Page]Where lye the oddes?
Cap.
Howes this?
Lod
Examine our bodies:
I take it I am the fairer marke, tis a disaduantage: feede til you be as fat as I, and ile fight w'ee as I am a Gentle-man.
Hau.
It sha not serue your turne.
Fight.
Lod.
Hold, murder, murder.
Raw.
I'm dead, I'm dead.
Cap.
Whorson puffe-paste, how he winkes and barkes: How now Gentle-men, master Lodam.
Lod.
Captayne, shud a come but a little sooner, and ha seene good sport, by this flesh hee came vp handsomely to me; a pritty sparke faith Captay [...]e.
Hau.
How sir?
Lod.
But if you be his friend, runne for a Surgeon for him, I haue hurt him vnder the short ribs, beside a cut or two ith'shoulder: would I were in a Millars sacke yonder, though I were ground for't, to be quit onem.
Hau.
You wonot vse me thus?
Lod.
I were best deliuer my sword ere I be compeld too't— a pritty fellow, and one that will make a souldier, because I see th'ast a spirit, and c [...]nst vse thy Weapon, ile bestow a dull blade vppon thee Squirrell.
Cap.
Deliuer vp your Weapon:
Lod.
In loue in loue Captaine, hea's a sparke a my reputation, and worthy your acquaintance.
Hau.
Thou mully-puffe, were it not iustice to kicke thy guts out.
Lod.
When I am dis-arm'd.
Hau.
Take't, agen you spunge—
Lod.
What? when I haue geent thee: tis at thy seruice, and it were a whole Cutlers shop: be confident.
Raw.
My Agu [...] has not left mee yet▪ there's a grudging a'the halter still:
Cap.
Master Rawbon [...], I repent my opinion of your Cowardize.
[Page]I see you dare fight, and shall report it to my Cosen:
You shall walke home, shee'le take it as an honor,
And present your prisoner.
Raw.
Iasper, lets go home and shift, do not go—honest Iasper.
Hau.
You will be pratling sirra—Ile waite vpon you Captayne: Master Lodam—
Lod.
I will accompany thee, th'art noble, and fit for my conuersation, honest master Rawbone — a poxe vpon you.
Cap.
Nay, you shal waite a your master with his leaue, good Iasper
Hau.
How now Iasper?
Exeunt.
Musicke: A Table set forth with two Tapers: Seruants placing Ewe, Bayes, and Rosemary, &c.
Enter Beauford.
Beau.
Are these the hearbes you strow at Funerals.
Seruant.
Yes sir.
Beau.
Tis well, I commend your care,
And thanke yee; yee haue exprest more duty
Im not enquiring wherefore I commaund
This strange employment, there in the very
Act of your obedience: my chamber
Lookes like the Spring now? ha'yee not arte enough
To make this Ewe [...]ee grow here, or this Bayes?
The embleme of our victory in Death?
But they present that best when they are wither'd:
Haue you beene carefull that no day breake in
At any Window, I would dwell in night,
And haue no other star-light but these tapers:
Ser.
If any aske to speake with you,
Shall I say, you are abroad.
Beau.
No, to all do enquire with busie faces
Pale or disturb'd, giue free accesse.
Exit ser.
What do I differ from the dead? would not
Some fearefull man or woman seeing me,
[Page]Call this a Church-yard, and imagine me
Some wakefull apparition 'mong the graues;
That for some treasures buried in my life,
Walke vp and downe thus? buried? no twas drownd,
I cannot therefore say, it was a chest,
Gratiana had nere a Coffin, I haue one
Spacious enough for both on's, but the waues
Will neuer yeeld too't, for it may bee they
Soone as the northerne Wind blowes cold vppon em,
Will freeze themselues to marble ouer her,
Least she should want a tombe:
Enter Keeper.
Thy businesse.
Keeper.
Hee dyed this morning:
A friend of his and yours did practise on him
A little Surgery, but in vayne; his last
Breath did forgiue you: but you must expect
No safety from the Law: my seruice sir.
Beau.
I haue left direction, that it cannot misse me:
And hadst thou come to apprehend me for't?
With as much ease thou mightst; I am no states-man
Officious, seruants makes no sutors waite
My doores vnguarded; tis no laborinth
I dwell in; but I thanke thy loue, there's something
To reward it: iustice cannot put on
A shape to fright me.
Keeper.
I am sorry sir,
Your resolution carries so much danger.
Exit.
Beau.
What can life bring to me, that I should court it:
There is a period in nature, ist not
Better to dye and not be sicke; worne in
Our bodies, which in imitation
Of ghosts, grow leane, as if they woo'd at last
Be immateriall too; our blood turne ielly
And freeze in their cold channell, let mee expire
[Page]While I haue heat and strength to tug with death
For Victory.
Enter Milisent.
Mil.
You may disburden there,
But gently, tis a chest of value, mistresse—
Ile giue him notice, where is Beauford?
Beau.
Heere.
Mil.
What place d'ee call this?
Beau.
Tis a Bridall chamber.
Mil.
It presents horrour.
Beau.
Ha you anything
To say to me?
Mil.
Yes.
Beau.
Proceede.
Mil.
I come to visite you.
Beau.
You are not welcome then.
Mil.
I did suspect it, and haue therfore brought
My assurance wo'me, I must require
Satisfaction for a kinsmans death,
One Marwood.
Beau.
Ha?
Mil.
Your valour was not noble,
It was a course reward to kill him for
His friendship: I come not with a guard of
Officers to attach your person, it
Were too poore and formall, the instrument
That sluc'd his soule out, I had rather shud
Sacrifice to his ashes, and my sword
Shall do't, or yours be guilty of another,
To waite vppon his ghost.
Beau.
Young man be not
Too rash without the knowledg how our quarrel
Rise to procure thy selfe a danger.
Mil.
[Page]Make it
Not your feare, I haue heard the perfect story,
And ere I fight with thee shat see thy errour;
Acknowledge thou hast kild a friend, I bring
A perspectiue to make those things that lye
Remote from sence, familiar to thee, nay
Thou shat confesse thou knowst the truth of what
Concernes him, or Gratiana.
Beau.
When my soule
Throwes off this vpper Garment, I shall know all.
Mil.
Thou shat not number many minutes, know
`Twas my mis-fortune to close vp the eyes
Of Marwood, whose body I vow'd neuer
Should to the earth without reuenge; or mee
Companion to his graue: I ha therefore brought it
Hither, tis in this house.
Beau.
Ha?
Mil.
His pale corpes
Shall witnesse my affection.
Bea.
Thou didst promise
To informe me of Gratiana.
Mil.
And thus briefly:
Marwood reueal'd at death another witnesse
Of his truth, for Cardona hee corrupted
To betray Gratiana to him.
Beau.
Ha Cardona!
Heauen continue her among the liuing,
But halfe an houre.
Mil.
I ha sau'd yee trouble,
Shee waites without, in your name I procur'd
Her presence, as you had affaires with her
She's vnprepar'd, a little terrour will
Enforce her to confesse the truth of all things.
Beau.
Thou doest direct well.
Mil.
Still remember Beauford
[Page]I am thy lenemy, and in this doe but
Prepare thy conscience of misdeede to
Meete my iust anger.
Bea.
I am all wonder.
Milisent bring in Cardona.
Mil.
He's now at opportunity.
Car.
Sir you sent
To speake with me.
Beau.
Come neerer, I heare say
You are Baud; tell me how goe Virgins
I'th sinfull market; nay I must know hell-ca [...]
What was the price you tooke for Gratiana [...]s:
Did Marwood come off roundly with his wages▪
Tell me the truth, or by my fathers soule
Ile digge thy heart out.
Car.
Helpe.
Beau.
Let me not heare
A syllable that has not referrence
To my question—or—
Car.
Ile tell you sir:
Marwood—
Beau.
So.
Car.
Did vitiously affect her:
Won with hi [...] gifts and flatteries, I promis'd
My assistance, but I knew her vertue was not
To bee corrupted in a thought.
Beau.
Ha.
Car.
Therefore—
Beau.
What d'ee study—
Car.
Hold—I would deliuer
The rest into your eare, it is too shamefull
To expresse it louder then a whisper—
Mil.
With what vnwillingnes, we discouer things
Wee are asham'd to owne: Cardona shudst
Ha vs'd but halfe this feare in thy consent.
And thou hadst nere beene guilty of a sinne
[Page]Thou art so loath to part with though it be
A burden to thy soule: how boldly would
Out innocence plead for vs; but sha [...] done.
Beau.
Then was Gratiana [...]s honor sau'd.
Car.
Vntouch'd.
Bea.
Where am I lost: this story is more killing
Then all my iealousies: Oh Cardona
Goe safe from hence, but when thou com'st at home,
Locke thy selfe vp and languish, till thou dye
Thou shalt meete Marwood, in a gloomy shade,
Giue backe this salary,
Exit Cardona.
Mil.
Haue I made good
My promise, do you finde your errour.
Beau.
No I ha found my horror—has the chast
And innocent Gratiana drown'd her selfe?
What satisfaction can I pay thy ghost?
Mil.
Now doe me right sir.
Beau.
Shee's gone for euer,
And can the earth still dwell a quiet neighbour
To the rough Sea, and not it selfe bee thaw'd
Into a riuer; let it melt to waues
From hence-forth, that beside th'inhabitants,
The very Genius of the World may drowne,
And not accuse me for her: Oh Gratiana.
Mil.
Reserue your passion, and remember what
I come for.
Beau.
How shall I punish my vniust suspition?
Death is too poore a thing to suffer for her▪
Some spirit guide mee where her body lyes
Within her watery vrne, although feal'd vp
With frost, my teares are warme and can dissolue it,
To let in mee, and my repentance to her.
I would kisse her cold face into life agen
Renew her breath with mine, on her pale lip
I do not thinke, but if some artery
[Page]Of mine were open'd, and the c
[...]im
[...]o
[...] flood
Conuay'd in [...]o her v [...]ines, it would agree
And with a gentle gliding steale it selfe
Into her heart, in li [...]'no her dead faculties,
And with a flat [...]ery, tice her soule agen,
To dwell in her faire tenement.
Mil.
You loose
Your sel [...]e in these wild fancies; recollect
And doe mee iustice.
Beau.
I am lost indeede,
With fruitlesse passion: I remember thee
And thy designe agen; I must account
For Marwoods death ist not? alas thou art
Too young, and canst not fight, I wish thou wert
A man of tough and actiue sinewes, for
Thy owne reuenge sake, I would prayse thee for
My death, so I might fall but nobly by thee:
For I am burden'd with a weight of life—
Stay, didst not tell me thou hadst brought hither
The body of young Marwood—
Mil.
Yes.
Beau.
Since a mistake, not malice did procure
His ill fate, I will but drop one funerall
Teare vpon his wound, and soone finish
To doe thee right.
Mil.
Yee shall.
A coffin brought in.
Beau.
Does this enclose his corpes? how little roome
Doe wee take vp in death, that liuing, know
No bounds? here without murmurring wee can
Be circumscrib'd, it is the soule, that makes vs
Affect such wanton, and irregular pathes;
When that's gone, wee are quiet as the earth,
And thinke no more of wandring: oh Marwood
Forgiue my anger, thy confession did
Inuite thy ruine from me, yet vppon—
Op [...]s.
[Page]My memory forsake me, tis
Gratiana's Spirit, hast thou left thy Heauenly dwelling
To call me hence? I was now comming to thee:
Or but commaund more hast, and I will count it
No sinne to strike my selfe, and in the streame
Of my owne blood to imitate how thou
Didst drowne thy selfe.
Grat.
I am liuing Beauford.
Beau.
I know thou art immortall.
Grat.
Liuing as thou art.
Beau.
Good angels doe not mocke mortality.
Grat.
And came—
Beau.
To call me to my answere how I durst
Suspect thy chastity, ile accuse my selfe
And to thy iniur'd innocence giue me vp
A willing sacrifice.
Grat.
Oh my Beauford, now
I am ouer-blest for my late sufferings;
I haue sollicited my Death with prayers:
Now I would liue to see my Beauford loue me.
It was thy friend induc'd me to that letter,
To finde if thy suspition had destroy'd
All seedes of loue.
Beau.
Art thou not dead indeede,
May I beleeue? her hands is warme,—shee breathes
Agen—and kisses as she wont to doe
Her Beauford, art Gratiana? Heauen
Let me dwell here vntill my soule exhale.
Mil.
One sorrow's cur'd Milisent begone,
Thou hast bin too long absent from thy owne.
Exit.
Bea.
Oh my ioy rauisht soule, but where's the youth
Brought mee this blessing? vanisht Gratiana
Where is hee? I would hang about his necke
And kisse his cheeke, he we not leaue me so:
Gone? sure it was some angell, was hee not,
[Page]Or doe I dreame this happinesse, wot not thou
Forsake mee to?
Grat.
Oh neuer.
Beau.
Within there—
Bid the young man returne, and quickly, least
My ioy aboue the strength of natures sufferance,
Kill me before I can expresse my gratitude:
Ha yee brought him?
Enter Officers.
Officer.
Mr. Beauford, I am sorry wee are
Commanded to apprehend your person.
Grat.
Officers ha?
Officer.
You are suspected to haue slaine a
Gentle-man, one Marwood.
Beau.
Haue I still my essence ha?
I had a ioy was able to make man
Forget he could be miserable.
Officer.
Come sir.
Beau.
If ere extreamities did kill, wee hath
Shall dye this very minute.
Grat.
You shanot goe.
Officers.
Our authority will force him.
Grat.
Y'are villaines, murderers:
Oh my Beauford!
Beau.
Leaue me Gratiana.
Grat.
Neuer, ile dye with thee.
Beau.
What can wee say vnto our misery,
Sau'd in a tempest that did threaten most,
Arriu'd the harbour, ship, and all are lost.
Officer.
To the next Iustice.
Exeunt.
Actus Quinti. Scena Prima.
Enter Sir Iohn Belfare.
Bel.
Whether art fled Gratiana? that I can
Conuerse with none to tell mee thou art still
A mortall? taken hence by miracle?
Though angels should intice her hence, to heauen,
She was so full of piety, to her father,
She would first take her leaue.
Enter Isaac and a Physition.
Isa.
There he is sir, he cannot choose but talke idly,
For he has [...]o [...] slept since the last great mist.
Phi.
M [...]st?
Isa.
I sir▪ his daughter, my young mistresse went away in't, and we can heare no tale nor tydings of her, to tell you true, I w [...]uld not disgrace my old master, but hee is little better then mad.
Phi.
Vnhappy Gentle-man.
Bel.
Tis so, hee murder'd her;
For he that first would rob her of her honor,
W [...]uld or feare after-ward to kill Gratiana,
He shall be arrangn'd for't; —but where shall wee
Get honest men enough to make a Iury?
That dare be conscionable, when the Iudge
Lookes on, and frownes vpon the Verdict, men
That will not be corrupted, to fauour
A great man euidence, but preferre iustice
To ready mony? [...]h this age is barren—
Phy.
[Page]Master Beauford's newly
Apprehended for some fact, and carried
Fore Iustice Landby, in my passage hither
I met him guarded.
Bel.
Guarded for what?
Phy.
Some did whisper hee had kild—
Bel.
Gratiana.
Oh my girle, my Gratiana,—Isaac, Beauford is taken, tis apparent he hath slayne my daughter, and shanot I reuenge her Death? Ile prosecute the Law with violence agaynst him, not leaue the Iudge, till hee pronounce his sentence, then Ile dye, and carry Gratiana the newes before him. Follow me▪
Exeunt.
Enter Iustice Landby, and Iane.
Iust.
I expect Iane thou wot reward my care
With thy obedience, he's young and Wealthy,
No matter for those idle ceremonies
Of wit and court-ship.
Iane.
Doe I heare my father?
Iust.
He will maintaine thee gallant, City wiues
Are fortunes darlings, gouerne al, their husband [...]
Variety of pleasure, and apparell
When some of higher title are oft faine
To pawne a Lady-ship: thou shat haue Rawbone.
Iane.
Vertue forbid it, you are my father sir,
And lower then the earth I haue a heart
Prostrates it selfe, I had my being from you,
But I beseech you, take it not away
Agen, by your seuerity.
Iust.
How's this? I like it well.
aside.
Ian.
You haue read many lectures to me, which
My duty hath receiu'd, and practiz'd, as
Prec [...]pts from heauen, but neuer did I heare
You preach so ill, you heretofore directed
[Page]My study to bee carefull of my fame,
Cherish desert, plant my affection on
Noblenesse, which canonely be sufficient
To make it fruitefull, and d'ce counsell now
To marry a disease?
Iust.
Good! my owne girls—
What ist you sayd? ha?
Iane.
For the man himselfe
Is such a poore and miserable thing—
Iust.
But [...] another word, and I take off
My blessing: how now Iane?
Ian.
[...], I feare
He is in earnest, marry me to my graue,
[...]o that you shall haue my consent, oh do not
Enforce mee to be guilty of a fal [...]e
Vow, both to Heauen and Angels; on my knees—
Iust.
Humble your heart, [...] and correct your sullennesse,
I am resolu'd, would you be sacrific'd
To an vnthrift, that wil [...] away his skinne,
Rather then want to stake at Ord [...]aries?
Consume what I haue gather'd at a breake-fast,
Or mornings draugh? and when you ha teem'd for him
Turne Semptr [...]le to find milke and clouts for babies:
Foote stockings, to maintaine him in the Compter?
Or if this [...]ayle, erect a bandy Citadell,
Well man'd, which fortified with [...]my-Cannon
Tobacco pipes, may raise you to a fortune,
Together with the traile—
Iane.
Oh my cruell starres!
Iust.
S [...]rre me no starres, ile haue my will—
Ian.
One minute hath ruin'd all my hope, Milisent
Was cruell thus to mocke me.
Enter Captayne, Hauer, Lodam, Rawbone, and Cameleon.
Cap.
Vnde—
Cap. and Iust, whisper.
Isa.
[Page]You heare, now he talkes.
Bel.
But I ha found the way, tis but procuring
Acquaintance with the fore-man of the Iury,
The Sessions bell-weather, he leades the rest
Like sheepe when hee makes a gap, they follow
In huddle to his sentence.
Isa.
Speake to him sir.
Phi.
God saue you sir Iohn Belfare.
Bel.
I am a little serious—do not trouble mee.
Phi.
D'ee not know me?
Bel.
I n [...]yther know, nor care for you, vnlesse
You can bee silent.
Phi.
I me your neighbour—
Isa.
Master Doctor—
Bel.
Away foole.
Isa.
No sir, a Physition.
Bel.
A Physition? can you cure my daughter?
Phi.
I sir, where is shee?
Bel.
Cannot you find her out by arte? a good
Physition, shud be acquainted with the Starres:
Prethee erect a figure, graue Astronomer,
Sh'at ha the minute she departed; turne
Thy Ephemerides a little, ile lend
Thee Ptolomy, and a nest of learned Rabbies
To iudge by: te [...]l me whither she be a liue,
Or dead, and thou shalt bee my Doctor, ile
Giue thee a round per Annum pension,
And thou shalt kill me for it.
Phi.
He has a strange De lyrium.
Isa.
I sir.
Phi.
A Vertigo in's head.
Isa.
In his head.
Bel.
What sayes the Rauen?
Isa.
He sayes, you haue two hard words in your head sir.
Phi.
Haue you forgot me sir, I was but late
[Page]Familiar to your knowledge.
Bel
Ha'your pardon gentle sir I know you now,
Impute it to my griefe, t'hath almost made mee
Forget my selfe.
Phi.
I come to visite you.
And cannot but bee sorry, to behold
You thus afflicted.
Bel.
Doctor I am sicke,
I'me very sicke at heart losse of my daughter
I feare, will make me mad, how long d'ee thinke
Mans nature able to resist it, can
Your loue or arte prescribe your friend a Cordial?
No, no, you cannot.
Phi.
Sir, bee comforted.
Wee haue our manly vertue giuen vs,
To exercise in such extreames as these.
Bel.
As these? why do you know what tis to
Loose a daughter? you conuerse with men, that
Are diseas'd in body; punish'd with a gout
Or feauer: yet some of these are held
The shames of physicke, but to th'mind you can
Apply no salutary medicine:
My daughter sir, my daughter—
Phi.
Was too blame
To leaue you so, loose not your wisedome for
Your daughters want of piety.
Bel.
Speake well
A'th dead, for liuing shee would not be absent
Thus from mee, shee was euer dutifull
Tooke pleasure in obedience: oh my child,
But I haue strong suspition, by whom
She's made away. Beauford—
Phi.
How?
Bel
He that pretended marriage—he gaue her
A wound before.
Raw.
[Page]Iasper? what case am I in?
Hau.
Be wise a [...]d keep your counsell, is not all for your honor?
Lod.
Lady [...] by this time, you are able to distinguish
A difference [...] Ra [...]bone and my selfe.
Cam.
I fi [...]d [...] [...].
Cap.
You shall doe n [...]ble sir.
Iust.
Mr. Rawbone, the onely man in my wishes:
My nephew giues you valiant, your merit
O [...]e-ioyes me, and to shew how much I value
Your worth my daughter yours, ile see you
Married this morning ere we part, receiue him
Into your bosome Ian [...], or loose me euer.
Ian.
I obey sir: will my father cozen himselfe?
Han.
Ha, doe I dreame?
Raw.
Dreame quotha, this is a pritty dreame.
Iust.
Master Lodam, I hope you'le not repine at his fortune.
Raw.
But Rawbone will pine, and repine if this be not a dreame?
Lod.
I allow it▪ and will dine with you.
Cam.
And I.
Raw.
Iasper: no, will no body know me?
Iust.
Let's loose no time, I haue no quiet tell
I call him sonne.
Raw.
Master Iustice, do me right,
You do not know who I am—I am—
Iust.
An asse sir, Are you not? what make you pratling?
Raw.
Sir,—
Noble Captaine, a word, I am—
Cap.
A Coxecombe.
Your man is fancy sir.
Raw.
Then I am a— sleepe.
Cap.
I forget Gratiana
Iust.
Cosen, you shall supply my place at Church, while I pr [...]pare for your returne, some guests wee must haue—nay, nay haste, the mo [...]e growes old, wee'le ha't a Wedding day.
Han.
Here's a blessing beyond hope.
Raw.
Sure I am sleepe, I will cene walke with 'em till my dreame be out.
[Page] Enter Beuford, Officers, Marwood
disguised, Keeper, Gratiana.
Iust.
Mr. Beauford, welcome and Gratiana—
Beau.
You will repent your curtesie, I am
Presented an offender to you.
Off [...].
Yes, and please your worship, he is accus'd.
Iust.
How?
Grat.
Sir, you haue charity, beleeue em not,
They doe conspire to take away his life.
Keeper.
May it please you vnderstand, he has kild
A Gentle-man, one Marwood, in our Parke,
I found him wounded mortally, though before
He dyed, he did confesse.
Beau.
Vrge it no farther,
Ile saue the trouble of examination,
And yeeld my selfe vp guilty.
Grat.
For heauens sake
Beleeue him not, hee is an enemy
To his owne life; deare Beauford, what d'ee meane
To cast your selfe away, y'are more vnmercifull
Then those that doe accuse you, then the Law
It selfe, for at the worst, that can but finde
You guilty at the last, too soone for me
To bee deuided from you.
Beau.
Oh Gratiana, I call heauen to witnesse,
Though my mis-fortune made mee thinke before,
My life a tedious and painefull trouble,
My very soule a luggage, and too heauy
For me to carry, now I wish to liue,
To liue for thy sake, till my haire were siluer'd
With age; to liue till thou wodst ha me dye,
And were a weary of me: For I neuer
Could by the seruice of one life, reward
Enough thy loue, nor by the suffering
The punishment of age and time, do pennance
Sufficient for my iniury, but my fate
Hurries me from thee, then accept my death
A satisfaction for that sinne, I could not
[Page]Redeeme aliue, I cannot but confesse
The accusation.
Enter Sir Iohn Belfare, and Isaac.
Bel.
Iustice, iustice, I will haue iustice:
Ha Gratiana!
Grat.
Oh my deare father—
Bel.
Art a liue, oh my ioy, it growes
To mighty for me, I must weepe a little
To saue my heart—
Isa.
My young mistresse aliue.
Exit
Grat.
If euer you lou'd Gratiana, plead for Beauford,
H'as beene abus'd, by a villaine, alls discouer'd,
W'aue renew'd hearts, and now I feare, I shall
Loose him agen, accus'd here for the death
Of Marwood, that was cause of all our suffering.
Bel.
I ha not wept enough for ioy Gratiana
That th'art aliue yet — I vnderstand nothing
Beside this comfort.
Grat.
Deere sir recollect,
And second me.
Iust.
The fact confest, all hope
Wilbe a pardon sir may be procur'd:
Sir Iohn—y'are come in a sad time.
Grat.
What is the worst you charge him with?
Keeper.
He has slaine a Gentle-man.
Iust.
No common trespasse.
Grat.
He has done iustice.
Iust.
How?
Grat.
A publicke benefite to his Country in't.
Iust.
Killing a man? her sorrow ouer-throwes
Her reason.
Grat.
Heare me, Marwood was a Villaine,
A rebell vnto vertue, a prophaner
Of friendships sacred lawes, a murderer
Of virgin chastity, against whose malice
[Page]No innocence could hope protection;
But like a [...] by an Eagles talent,
It grow [...]ng dyes.
What punishment can you inflict on him,
That in contemp of nature, and religion,
Inforces breach of loue, of holy vowes?
Sets them at war [...]e whose hearts were married
In a [...] congregation of Angel [...]:
I know you will no [...] say, but such deserue
To dye yet Marwood being dead, you reach
Your fury to his hea [...]t, that did this benefit.
Beau.
Oh G [...]ati [...] if I m [...]y not liue
To [...] thee here, Il would thou hadst beene dead
Indeede so in a little time, we shu'd
[...] each other in a better World?
But since I go before thee, I will carry
Thy [...] along, and if my soule forget not,
What it hath [...], when it conuerst with men,
I wil so talke of thee among the blest.
That they shalbe in loue with thee, and descend
In holy shapes, to woe thee to come thither,
And be of their society doe not [...] thy beauty
With such a shower, keepe this soft raine,
To water some more lost, and ba [...]ren garden,
Least thou destroy the spring, which na [...]ure made
To be a wonder in thy cheeke
Iust.
Where is Marwoods body?
Mar.
Here sir.
Omnes.
A liue!
Mil.
Ha Marwood?
Mar.
A liue, as glad to s [...]e thee, as thou art
To know thy selfe [...] for my [...];
Which I of purpose by this honest friend,
To whose cure, I owe my life, made you beleeue,
I increase our ioy at meeting: for you Lady,
[Page]You are a woman,—yet you might ha beene
Lesse violent in your p [...]eading, do not
Eng [...]ge me past respects of mi [...]e, or your own honor.
Grat.
Mine is aboue thy malice, I ha [...]e a breast
Impenetrable, 'gainst which, thou [...]ndly ayming,
Thy arrowes, but recoile into thy bosome,
And leaue a wound.
Beau.
Fri [...]nd we haue found thy errour—
Mar.
L [...]t it be mine, we haue had sto [...]mes already.
Grat.
Tel [...] me iniurious man for in this presence
You must acquit the honour you accus [...]d,
Discharge thy poyson here, in humane Traytor —
Beau.
Thou wo [...]t a [...]ke her now so giuene [...], she's al chastitie.
Mar.
Why d'ee tempt me t [...]us?
Bel.
It was ill done sir —
Iust
Accuse her to her face.
Mar.
So so, you see, I am silent still.
Gra.
You are t [...]o f [...]l of guilt to excuse your trechery.
Mar.
Then farwell all respect, and heare me tell
This bold and insolent woman, that so late
Made triumph in my death.
Mil.
Oh sir proceede not,
You do not declare your selfe of generous birth,
Thus openly to accuse a Gentle-woman,
Were it a truth.
Grat.
He may throw soyle at heauen,
And as soone staine it.
Mar.
Sirra boy, who made you so peremptory
He would be whipt.
Mil.
With what? I am not arm'd
You see, but your b [...]g language would not fright
My youth, were it be friended with a sword;
You should find then I would dare to proue it
A fals [...] hood, on your person.
Iust.
How now Milisent?
Mar.
[Page]Hath my loue made mee thus ridiculous?
Beauford, that you will suffer such a boy
To affront me? then against all the world
I rise an enemy, and defie his valour
Dares iustifie Gratiana vertuous.
Enter Isaac, and Cardona.
Isa.
Beleeue your eyes.
Car.
My daughter aliue?
Oh my deare heart.
Mar.
You are come oppor [...]unely,
Cardona speake the truth, as thou wouldst not
Eate my p [...]nard, is not Gratiana
A sinnefull woman.
Mar.
What meanes Marwood, ha?
Bel.
I am in a laborinth?
Car.
H [...]ld, I confesse —
Y [...]u neuer did enioy Gratiana.
Mar.
Ha?
Car.
Let not our sh [...]m [...] be pub [...]icke, sir, you shall
Haue the whole truth, oh that my teares were able
To wash my sinne away—won wi [...]h your promises,
I did, in hope to marke my self a fortune,
And get a husband for my childe, with much
B [...]acke oratoury, woe my daughter to
Supply Gratianaes bed, whom with [...]hat
Circumstance, you enioy [...]d, tha [...] you b [...]leeu'd
It was the virgin you desir'd.
Bel.
Ist possible?
Mar.
I am [...]t a confasion, where's this daughter?
Car.
She with the feare (as I conceiue) of her
Dishonour, taking a few iewels with her,
Went from me, I know not whither, by this time
Dead if not more vnhappy in her fortune.
Mar.
Into how many sinnes h [...]th lust engag'd me?
Is there a hope you can forgiue, [...]nd you,
[Page]And she whom I haue most dishonor'd
I neuer had a conscience till now,
To be grieu'd for her, I will hide my selfe
From all the World.
Mil.
Stay sir—
Grat.
You heare this Beauford, father —
Beau.
This she co [...]fest to me, though I conceal'd
From thee the errour, Marwood dead, their shame
Would not ha giuen my life aduantage, now
We haue ore-come the malice of our fate:
I hope you'le call me sonne.
Bel.
Both my lou'd children.
Iust.
I congratulate your ioy.
Mar.
Beauford, Gentle-men,
This is a woman, Lucibol your daughter,
The too much iniur'd maide: oh pardon me,
Welcom both to my knowledge, and my heart.
Car
Oh my childe.
Iust.
My seruant prooue a woman?
Bel.
You le marry her.
Mar.
I shall begin my recompence:
Lea [...] you to Church we'le find the P [...]iest more worke.
Iust.
He has do [...]e some already, for by this time
I haue a daughter married to young Hauer.
That walk'd in Rawbones li [...]e [...]y,—they'r return'd.
Enter Captaine, Hauer, Iane, Lodam, and Cameleon.
Hau.
Father your pardon, though you meant me not
Your sonne, yet I must call your daughter, wife:
Here I resigne my Citizen.
Bel.
Young Hauer.
Iust
My blessing on you both,
I meant it so: a letter tooke off this
Dis [...]uise before; nay here are more couples,
Enoug [...] to play at Barly-break▪
Raw.
Ma [...]e [...] Lodam, you and I are in Hell,
Lod.
[Page]How?
Hau.
You and I are friends.
Lod.
I knew, by instinct, I had no quarell to thee:
Art thou Rawbone?
Raw.
I am not [...]runke—
Lod.
No, but thou art disguis'd shrewdly.
Raw.
I wonot beleeue, I am awake:
This is not possible.
Beau.
Leaue off to wonder Captaine.
Cap.
Sur [...] this is a dreame.
Raw.
As sure, as you are there Captayne, 'las wee doe but walke and talke in ou [...] sl [...]epe, all this while.
Bel.
Away, away.
Lod.
I to dinner bullies.
Raw.
D'ee heare Gentle-men, before you go, does no-body know me? who am I? who am I?
Iust.
You are master Rawbone fit, that would haue married my daughter, that is now wise, I take it, to this Gentle-man, your seeming seruant.
Raw.
Dreame on, dreame on: Iasper, make much a'the wench now th'ast got her, am not I finely guld?
Hau.
I thinke so.
Raw.
Dreame on together, a good iest yfaith, he thinkes all this is true now.
Cap.
Are not you then, awake fit?
Raw.
No marry am I not sir.
Cap.
What d'ee thinke a'tha [...] sir.
k [...]cke [...] him.
Raw.
That sir? now do I dreame that I am kickt.
Cap.
You doe not feele it then.
Raw.
Kicke, kicke your hearts out.
Lod.
Say you so, let my foo [...]e be in too then.
Raw.
Sure I shall crye out in my sleep—what a long night tis.
Bel.
Set on.
Lod.
I, I, we may come backe, and take him napping.
Beau.
Come Gratiana,
[Page]My soule best halfe, lets tye the sacred knot,
So long deferr'd, neuer did two louers,
Meet in so little time so many changes;
Our Wedding day is come, the s [...]rrowes past
Shall giue our present ioy more heauenly tast.
Exeunt.
Epilogue.
Rawbone.
GEntle-men: Pray he fauourable to wake a Foole Dormant I [...]on [...]st yee; [...] ha beene kickt, and kick [...] to that purpose, may be, they knockt at the wrong doore, my braines are a sleepe in the Garret▪ I must appeale from their feete to your hands, there is no way but one, you must clap me, and clap mee soon [...]ly d [...]e [...] heare▪ I shall hardly come to my selfe else.
Oh since my case without you desperate stands,
Wake me with the loud Musicke of your hands.
Exit.