Scena Prima.

Now I haue layd my Circle, feare assaults me: So sayes my graue Instructor all men doe when they begin this Businesse; but bids me here be resolute, and dread not: for bound in this Circle, and by these words con­strain'd, they cannot hurt me.

For what thou daring Mortall? what wut thou doe with Asmody, now thou hast brought him hither?

I doe commaund thee that thou helpe me to the inuisible Ring.

Do'st thou not this in subtiltie, to draw me out of my Circle, and then ruine me?

I dare as well runne on the sierie Sword that wounds Malantha, Thama, or Sitrami.

Thinks thou my Tutor; if I should conceale this Act of mine from him, that he would know it?

I thinke not: for hee hath giuen mee libertie these fiue dayes.

I will get leaue of him to returne back vnto my Fathers house, where I will liue, if Asmody can doe it, inuisible.

Scena secunda.

Good Seignior no more irruptions, I tell you what you shall trust to: I am not like a Mill, to be turn'd with wind and water; not all your sighes and teares can alter me, keepe 'hem for Custard-eating Dames i'th' Citie, there they may prosper.

Now Ile tell thee Dorilus, because thou art a handsome Fellow, as I told thee before; when I am any one of these, thou shalt enioy me, in plaine termes, lye with me, and make a Cuckold: for my Ambition is to ad­uance Greatnesse. Looke, here's thy Sister.

Why as a Woman may doe; the manner is not to be showne now. I am glad thou art come to take off thy Brother.

A moist Milke-sop Louer, hang him, on whom Loue has no more operation then an Oynion: Why, did not I tell you this was the wrong way, & taught you the right; Lectur'd vnto you according to my owne heart, and my heart is made of the same stuffe that other Womens are: for shame leaue, it is both an ill sight and an ill signe to see a man drop at the Nose.

Not so good Shuttle-cocke, your pointed wit stabbes desperately at all times. Looke you, 'tis thus: If you can loue me, faire one, so; if not—

So, so: For he did but so, so, For he did but so, so, and so let her goe.

Ha, ha, ha, Thou art a mad Wench, and hast mercy vpon no man, far worse then I.

Not worse; much about one, as the Collier to the Deuill: but what shall we doe, shall we not see the Duke?

Yes faith, and thou say'st the word, and laugh him out of his Dominions: for to laugh him and all his traine out of countenance, is nothing; I haue a great mind to icere the Courtiers.

Why then 'tis done, and dun's the Mouse, and vndone all the Courtiers: my Father's gone before to meet him.

Through out Ground he must come, the houre iust at milking time.

No sirrah, you shannot tell me, I wonnot lose the glory of the inuention, for I know you haue found it.

I wud my Father had bound thee Prentice se­uen yeeres agoe to a Scriuener, by this time thou hadst [Page] lost thy Eares: What make you eues-dropping here? I thought this had not bin a sober time of day with you.

Come, supply, supply, or out goes all, Ile spoyle your milking businesse.

By this light if thou do'st, thou shalt starue for want of Butter.

What, you donnot meane to goe see the Duke, Brother?

Not I yfaith Sister, I haue a Ducke of mine owne, that I must visit—T'other shilling—

Pish, I cannot endure this platring and patch­ing betweene Sister and Brother——So, now goe your wayes and milke, but take heed of churning; our Dayrie maid got the tooth-ach with—

Why so then, pray God the Wenches haue cleane Wastcoats.

This money shud ha' bought Tiffenie and Cob­web Lawne, And what a sinne had [...]hat bin, to nurse Pride, when it may purchase necessarie Claret?

My Father allowes me too little, I find that: And it were [Page] not for this good natur'd Pagan, my Sister, I knew not what to doe, vnlesse I shud run my head into a commo­ditie of Hempe, and that I must take vp at the Gallowes too, or else they wonnot trust me: yet I might haue a Bargaine of Crock-Butter, if I could get an Heire to be bound for't, your Countrey Gentlemen haue no maw too't; but your Cockney were the only man, for he wud take it vp, and 'twere but to make Tosts of.

Scena tertia.

Keepe back there, keepe back, or Ile make your Leather Pelches cry twango else: for some of them I am sure I made 'hem smoake so, that I fear'd I had set 'hem a fire. Foh, some of them haue drunk sowre Butter milke this morning, mingled with Garlicke, which crudden to­gether, makes but a ranke smell: and then they haue their Christmas Shooes on, their old dancing Pumpes, vp to the middle Calfe, keeps 'hem so warme, that here'le be a Perfume for the Dukes owne nosthrills.

Nay, and we could intreat it, we were happy: for the Seruingmen that were wont to be all Mouthes, are now all Eyes, they haue no other member vsefull about them.

This Lord has a most dulcid situation, pleasant, and profitable, I haue seldome seene in Venice a sweeter.

Did you not see Sir a swarme of Bees as you past by?

Me thought they lookt Sir like your people of Hybla.

I cannot tell, I neuer had much conuersation with your people of Hybla, my noble Lord.

Here's another, a Bird of the same, but a more tame one, something more quiet. Now to heare this Iay chatter, and this Owlet hold his peace, but answer him with motion, may serue for a Morrisdance.

Your Lordships Iennet in my conceit is a most vnderstanding Beast.

I saw the Adlantatho of Domingo mounted vpon such another, not much different, nay surely nothing at all; and I donnot thinke but they were twinnes, onely I thinke your Lordships the better.

I wud your Lordship had bin with me at Iapon, I speake it for Horses sake, and H [...]semanship toge­ther; I protest they are the best Ryders, if I said the Rankest, I did not lye: for beleeue it, I hold your Ranke [Page] Ryder a good Ryder, take him alwayes, and at all times: As your Frenchman, in Christendome I donnot know a ranker Ryder, vnlesse it be some part North, there they are Scourers. Your Lordship has a most neat Ruffe, and becomes you most elegantly.

Is not this a fine Dialogue? How now? Who come these to milke? my Lord and's Compeere?

No, beleeue it Sir, they are taken vp for the Dukes owne tooth.

Ide as liue thou hadst told me a Tale: yet be­shrew me they are a couple of handsome Calues with white Faces; but the degrees of this how com'st about?

Why the Duke passing by, cast his eye vpon them, and with it, I beleeue, his fancie: for vpon some consideration, he sent backe, to giue commaund, they should be brought hither to my Lords House.

Good; a Wench of Language: by this hand I loue thee.

How whi [...] one? sorry for't? sorry-that I, whom Ladies languish for, repine, and die?

Surely Sir, those Ladies are not sound, that die of such a scuruie disease.

Vdfoot, and my Dagger had not bin rustie, that I might haue drawne it with credit, I'd a stucke it in the middle of your Milk Pale, foolish, scuruy, course-kersie, durty-tayl'd, dangling dug Cow: A Gentleman Cour­tier and Traueller, whose feet ha's measur'd the Alpes, and be disgrac'd in a piece of vnplow'd Pasture.

I haue lighted vpon one of the Egyptian Idols, taught

with some Engine to put off his Hat, and screw his Face a little: I cannot speake to it like a man, yet I will talke to it as if it were one. How came you hither Sir, pray did you ride, or were you drawne in a Cart?

Nay, beleeue it my Lord, they are a brace of the rudest Baubees that euer drew or suckt the Milke of In­nocence.

Foolish Wench I tell thee he is a Lord, and I am little lesse my selfe, if I were in place where: what do'st thou know, but I may be the Duke?

Why, it had bin all one to thee, thou hadst cal'd me Asse.

Asse vnawares may prooue a wise man, better considered of.

I wonnot crosse your Grace, but if my coun­sell—

That's a plaguie Wench; she has not milk'd so many Kine for nothing, she knowes the danger of the Horne.

I beseech your Maiestie let vs depart, these fine men flowt vs.

Well said Innocence, thou art at home, and play'st within doores, the to ther is more open.

We meane no harme, and't please you: if my Lord will spare vs a little of his sowre Beere, weele make you a daintie Sillibub; that's our Qualitie.

I warrant thee Wench, hold vp, Ile take too lashes for thy one.

What's the Dukes purpose tro? how he does eye 'hem. They'd be good marchandise for some of vs, now we are farre from our Mistresses.

A good Wench yfaith, she flowts them to their faces.

But what is this intended for trow; a Pastorall, or a Comedie?

'Tis best so, when the Tongue may forfeit the Head: I haue a con'd Speech alreadie; Long liue the Duchesse.

I am glad my Lord was meale-mouth'd when she was a Milke-maid, I am sure he gaue her no ill lan­guage.

And't be good VVine, it shall ne're sticke at me, what ere the Health be.

No, Seignior; I thought you had had a Small-Beere stomacke.

The Courtiers begin to melt, and my mightie Madame knowes how to command: I wonder what I shalbe? The Dice went equally once in my owne opini­on for Duchesse; but Duchesse Mate, that's my comfort.

Scena quarta.

Come Asmody, thou seest I am rul'd by thee, I take thy aduice; and how do'st thou like me in this Doctors Habit?

Why very well Sir, and handsome, you looke as if you had trauell'd for your Degree: but 'tis the better, for no experience is gotten without trauaile.

But what shall I doe, when they bring me their brittle Pispots? I cannot cast 'hem.

Why and that's sufficient. If it be troubled wa­ter, let 'hem carry it home againe to make Lye with, 'twill saue Sope: But you must know Sir you must be reseru'd, and not a publike Professor, like your Tutor.

If it please you Sir, you may take away the first part of my Name, it does not sound so well in a Ser­uingman, [Page] because hee is alwayes at the heeles of his Master.

VVhat, thou wudst haue As taken away, and be call'd Modie?

For your good Sir I wish it, and for breuity sake: besides Sir, you hannot one Scholler amongst twentie, but knowes what Asmody is.

Thou say'st well: then henceforward Moody, let As goe to the Spirit.

I must be so for I shud haue a sad Master of you else. And looke you Sir, because you shannot proue me a Lyar, here is your sweet-hearts Brother (in time of yore your Chamber-fellow) in a worser pickle then you, for he is in loue Auriumtenus, you are but vp to the mid­dle.

Why, I tell thee my Sister is such a Wild Cat, there is not her fellow againe in all Germany, and yet thy Sister followes well after; they are a Couple, and so is the Deuill and the Hangman, and as good Companie: they'le flowt any man vnder the Cope; they wud laugh at me, but that they know I care not for't, and put 'hem out with an excellent Tricke that I haue, call'd borrow­ing of Money. Come, beare vp man, and drinke, looke you, here's mine Host come to bid vs welcome.

How now mine Host, what time of day is't with you, ha?

Full Tide Gentlemen, full Tide. But you are welcome; I am your Seruant, your Slaue, your Cat, or your Dogge, or any thing in Rerum natura.

Goe thy wayes, goe sleepe, and send thy Dromedaries in with VVine, and Glasses cleare as Crystall.

And in Poetry too, when I am pleas'd to cou­ple—Some VVine you Knaues, some VVine.

VVelcome of this side too my man of Know­ledge, I am thy Slaue, thy Seruant, Dog, or Cat, or any thing in Rerum natura.

Let him drinke off his Wine, and hee'le tell you more.

Yes marry did he, if I haue two eyes, he drunke two.

Prythy mine Host stand aside, thou hast ne're an eye.

How, ne're an eye? that goes hard, if I haue drunke out two eyes in three houres.

Yes Sir, and tell you what I know, although a stranger, and till this houre neuer saw your face.

O Villaine, they were Bedfellowes together for a Twelue-month.

You are in loue with faire Dorigene, Sister vnto this Gentleman.

Why 'tis ordinary, get her good will, and lye with her. How thinke Sir, is not that the Cure?

How doe you meane, in drinke? giue me some Wine, I had forgot my selfe. Mine Host, I wud drinke [Page] to thee, but thou art not able to pledge me: Therefore here's to thee honest Blew-coat.

What Smirke? welcome, what wind droue thee hither?

The best in the foure Quarters: Looke you, here's Cash, Gold and Siluer, you must pay your Debts, purchase new Clothes, and come to Court instantly. Your Father is made an Earle, your Sister a Duchesse, and you are a Count, or I know not what; and I am an Esquire: my Boy is a Gentleman, when I haue him, as I am laying about for one.

The fellow ha's broken open some Goldsmiths house, and will be hang'd: Do'st thou know what thou do'st?

My Lord, as I' am a Gentleman and an Esquire, I doe renerence the very inuention of your Honours next Sute: Ile helpe you to a Draper shall giue you all your Men-Liueries, to make it of Cloth; my Haberdasher ha's a new Blocke, and will find me and all my Generation in Beuers as long as we last, for the first hansell.

Mad, or mad not, 'tis all one, I speake truth; your Father's an Earle, your Sister's a Duchesse, you are a Count, or I know not what, I am an Esquire, and my Boy is a Gentleman, when I haue him.

This fellow talkes as he thinkes, and thinkes as he talkes, and talkes what he knowes. I wonnot repeat it ouer againe, for the disparagement of my Wit: but [Page] what I say, I will maintaine, what I maintaine, I will say; and the very Bells themselues shall ring it out Probatum.

'Tis true indeed my Lord, your Sister's made Duchesse of—and shalbe married vnto the Duke. The Newes doth come to Towne with euery Man, and no man disagrees, but constantly affirmes it for a Truth.

Why now you are your selfe: Yet I'de aduise you to goe to Court, and see her.

Good; then let vs goe: for what Ile doe till I come there, I know not, or if I did, I wud not vt­ter it.

Why Asmody, will you be found an ignorant Spirit? how hap I knew not this?

Mine Host, what haue I chalkt in sundry and seuerall times?

Chalke is but Chalke, a Rundle makes a shilling, but that's nothing.

Scena Prima.

Questionlesse, by this time; they were at To haue and to hold when I left'hem. Looke you, here come the Feathers, the inseparable Coxcombs of the Court.

O there's a stop, I thought the brazen Image wud ha' spoke.

As euery outragious Louer does. If I were wea­rie of my life, I haue an Adagie wud hang me instantly.

To require you, That breath were better kept, to coole your Porredge.

Troth Madame I doubt him too: but if the worst come to the worst, 'tis but a foolish Louer cast away.

There are some flattering wayes yet to restore him, if we could light on 'hem. Alas good Dorilus.

But it is nothing, when the Prize is thought of that it shall purchase.

Here's a Duke now will make all his Subiects kind Husbands.

If he continue as he begins, Ile giue my Wife the Breeches; for Women will raigne, that's certaine.

Raigne, I and thunder and lighten too, Ile warrant thee.

How doe you Sir? you appeare to me more troubled then my selfe.

But pray be serious with me: by that friendship, which for the time we haue bin acquainted, hath bin as much as euer was made vp in so few houres; I doe con­iure you tell me, and tell me faithfully, all the whole pas­sage.

I was a telling you: She has enioyn'd me to bring her a faire Garland, of all Flowers that can be nam'd, which must continue fresh as long as I remaine constant to her.

Scena secunda.

Why Sir, what wud you ha' me do? you shall find I will be capable.

What's he tro? he ha's reasonable handsome Clothes, but they become him not.

The dumbe Lord's frighted, his haire stands an end.

What Masculine Baboone's this—Lady, I honor you.

O my good Lord, there are better Faces i'the Court for you to honor.

Wud I were i'the Countrey againe, I shall run mad here: your tumultuous Courtiers wonnot let me rest; Visitants early and late, and all come about one bu­sinesse, to tell me I am faire, which I know well ynough, yet can be well content to let them sweare it. I haue the Prayers of all the Mercers, Taylors, Haberdashers, i'the whole Citie, and their Wiues Curses; for not a Man lookes that way: I am the Bird, at which each well­drawne Courtier shoots his Bolt. Looke you, I am spy­ed already: They leaue all Companies, all Places; vpon Seruice times, the Chappell, if I be not there.

Now my tongue-tyed Lord, whose Language is i'the Motion of his Necke, I wonder he is not troubled with the Cricke: What does your Lordship say? I donnot heare you.

He wud ha' prou'd the Miracle of the World, if he had bin a Woman.

He wud indeed Seignior: I donnot thinke, but if his Tongue were clipt, he wud talke yet; what thinke you?

I meane you'le ouercome me: And if you talke much, I shall entreat you you will hold your peace.

Nay, beleeue it Lady, I will not talke much: but if I list to talke, I haue a Tongue that can talke much, and lowd, as another Man.

But talke's but talke, therefore I vse it not: but for your sake, sweet Lady, it may be that I will find a Tongue [Page] to talke of something; and that same something must be of you, or else 'tis nothing.

Away my Lord, I am bound to stop mine eares; the Syrens sing in you.

VVhy let 'hem sing, Song is but Song, no more then Talke's but Talke; yet Talke does well, where Talke is well regarded, otherwise 'tis lost: And I haue bin a Talker in my time, and will be so againe, to giue content to such a Lady as doth loue to talke, or knowes what talke is, and can talke her selfe; else 'tis much better for to hold ones peace: For I haue heretofore bin a great Talker, and foolish Ladyes that vnderstood me not, haue pray'd me hold my peace, and they wud loue me; iust as you now, on the contrary, pray me to talke, and not to hold my peace, and then you'd loue me.

I will maintaine this in him, to make him talke his Lungs our.—Oh,—Oh.

VVhy doe you say so? For this Tongue of mine shall be pull'd out, and throwne vnto the Dogges, or to the Hawkes, before it shall offend your daintie Eares, that loue to heare a Tongue talke as a Tongue should doe, of VVit and Beautie, and Beautie and VVit, which doe abound in you.

Beleeue it Lady, but it is; 'tis fit that you shud heare, and I shud talke, the Subiect being You, and I the Talker. Wherefore haue Ladyes Beautie, and Men Eyes and Tongues, but to behold that Beautie, and then talke of it. I doe proclayme him here a Dunce, a Sot, [Page] that ha's a Tongue, and cannot talke of you: nay, though he had ne're a Tongue, yet he might thinke a talke; and that, though not as good, might serue for talke.

The Duchesse; good my Lord leaue vntill ano­ther time.

I, another time, and then weele talke foure or fiue houres together.

Sister Duchesse, how do'st? I thanke thee for my Lord­ship. I knew thou wert borne to make vs all, aduance vs to the third Region. How does my Brother Duke deale with thee? Do'st thou Burgeon? Shall we haue Bonfires, and the Bells rung out, for ioy thou hast made an Vnckle? How now Iulia? what's thy Title? Lady of Honor, and Principall Secretarie to my Sister, is't not? who breakes the best Iests now?

Fie Brother, vnderstand your selfe; and as you haue taken on Dignitie, so put on Grauitie, or you will proue ridiculous.

Let me proue what I will Sister, Ile haue all the Court to imitate me: if I had bin borne a Foole, I won­der what's he wud ha' bin wise? Come VVench, be thy selfe still, and thou shalt be the Miracle of Princes,

Pray my Lord doe you speake to him, happily he will endure reproofe from you.

I haue sworne not to graunt any Suits this weeke, therefore prythy donnot trouble me——O, my Lord, I cry you mercy.

Thou art all wildnesse, that nothing I thinke will tame, but a long Voyage, and vnfortunate.

O Iulia, I doe thinke vpon thy poore afflicted Brother, Good Gentleman, that he should place his loue so dis­astrously. I wonder how he does?

He is as great a stranger vnto me as to you Ma­dame, I neuer saw him since.

Alas poore VVench, do'st thou beleeue there can be such an Art?

Well, had I bin as you, I'de not ha' layd so deepe an Oath vpon't.

Wud that were my worst feare.

Looke where he comes. Iulia leaue me, Ile hold confe­rence with him, and by delayes seeke to weare out his Sorrow.

It will not fade Sir, it will keepe too long I feare, for you to like it.

Why I thanke thee. I haue bestow'd some [Page] paines to begge my selfe into an Order. O Dorigene, if thou beest false, the Serpent parted with his Subtletie, and clos'd it in the Fruit he gaue thy Sex.

Alas Sir, 'twas not his fault; for to say truth, I con­iurde him.

Scena Prima.

Fortune my foe why dost thou frowne on me, &c. A good voyce is a perpetuall comfort to a man, he shall be sure he cannot want a Trade. Yonder's Madam Iu­lia, and the Italian Doctor administring, they looke like a couple of Tragedians in the fourth Act, out of conntenance. Right Worshipfull, Charitable, most Bountifull and well disposed, please you to looke vpon the Estate of a poore decayed Lord, blowne out of the bosome of good Fortune, vnto the backe side of mens Bounties, from whence a sweete gale of good will may arise to blow mee out of the dead sea of want and de­spaire, into the happy Hauen of good harbor, where I may lie at rest from hunger and cold, bound vnto you in the bed-rolle of beneuolence, which howsoeuer small a pittance it shall be, in this ebbe of aduersitie, it shalbe returned treble to you againe in the next tyde of pro­speritie—Sweet Madame,

One, rime more, and I will crowne thee Fennar Lawriate.

O that I had bin so happy to haue liu'd and clefe wood i'the countrey, preacht at the Buttery barre vnto the Ploughmen, and there haue vsde my authoritie in Folio, when all the seruants of the house shud be drunke at midnight, Cum Priuilegio.

I, those were certaine dayes, but what wut thou do now?

Learne to winde whipcord, and go hang my selfe.

With the rest of your kindred and acquaintance that bore the Court before 'hem.

I hope a man may court his Mistresse now with­out a Patent from your honor.

Yes, euery thing that's troublesome and stinkes you are.

Hang him, hee dares not within the confines of the Court.

Why, come then lets goe backe againe? For my [Page] owne part, I donnot care for quarrelling there wee may be bold, though my Lord, I haue a poore sister I wud prefer to cut your Honors toes.

And I haue a proiect, if it please your Honor, to set it on foote, it may make a great many of vs ride a horsebacke.

Yes, I was to prefer one for putting downe Pigs i'the Faire time.

Why, a fellow that will vndertake to finde the Country people, and the people of the Faire, with good repast for three pence a meale.

Then I haue another, for the crying of small Beare, from six [...] i'the morning, till twelue at noone, for all that are Barnab [...].

A most necessary one, and had it bin propounded [Page] when I was a Lord, it shud haue had my countenance.

Nay, it wud ha gone forward, for all your high bloods wud a countenanc'd it, yet it was thought there was a rich Milke-woman wud a crost it, and haue brought it to posset drinke i'the winter, and whay i'the Summer, and the Apothecaries wud haue ioyn'd with her, to haue clarified it.

I donnnot looke for it, because it comes with a backe blow, and there is no ward for it but Patience.

I, but when affliction comes like a Fury, with a whip in her hand, 'tis a fore matter.

Scena secunda.

Begon. Dorilus, Bernard come forth, all things are at peace

But that I haue confidence in my Master and his Art, I wud neuer looke to see thee againe.

Trust me I'm glad of it, Ile talke the bolder and and the lowder, they shall heare me.

See they are hot in preparation, and people making to behold the Arraignement,

Scetra tertia.

Fortune is a good huswife, she plies her wheel wel [Page] Alas poore Lady, I pitty her; for a my conscience she is cleare of the fact layd to her.

It is the maddest world, the report goes shee [...]hud lie with on for a Nosegay.

In some things Fame wilbe free I see, in some things scant; for Ile assure you 'twas for a Garland.

Why a Garland let it be, she had bin better won it with some other dance then the old one: but she has hard measure me thinks, not to be allowed an Aduocate; for alas, what can a woman say for her self in such a case?

Dost thou thinke an Aduocate can handle it better?

Dorigen Ebroistene, daughter to Guide Ebroisten, in the Prouince of Mysen Gentleman; and by the grace and fauour of our Soueraigne Lord Duke of [...]axo­nie made Duchesse, atainted of high Treason, by commitring Adultery with one Dorilns Traohesse, a pri­uate Gentleman of the same Prouince of Mysen, who by good and sufficient witnesse (beside her own shamelesse confession to the Duke himselfe) is here iustly accused, and indited of the fact; yet the Duke out of his most gratious clemencie, desirous of a direct and lawfull pro­ceeding, admitteh the sayd Dorigen—daughter to the aforesayd Guido—to answer for her selfe, and wisheth with all his soule (such is his infinite affection to [Page] her, that she could cleere her selfe of the crime. So Hea­uen and the Iustices of her cause defend her!

Speake Lady, free and fearelesse, what can you say?

Gentlemen what will yee doe? will yee come to Court, and be grac't by me, will you be Knights or Of­ficers, Gentlemen vshers, or of the Bedchambe [...]? speake what youle be whilst I am i'the giuing vaine, and you are so.

Scena Prima.

Am I mad or drunke or the people, both: and blind too I thinke. For let me come vp to them neuer so neere, talke neuer so loud, gripe them neuer so hard, they see mee not stare and gape, as if I were in the aire, and aske, where are you. If wee were out of fauour, I should neuer wonder at it, but being Restord, and in greater grace then euer, it somewhat troubles me: zfoote, and a Lord cannot be acknowledgd, what will be come of poore Gentlemen: heere come a couple, and sober as I take it, Ile try if they haue not lost their eye-sight.

Nay then my admirations at an end. I remember no body wud know me last time. But these are a couple of honest fellowes, and yet they serue a Lord, if any body haue vse of their eyes these will. By your leaue Gentle­men, did you see the yong Lord Fredericke.

People are blind, thats certaine——looke how they stare—I donnot thinke there was euer any such thing in the world as an eye, a seeing eye. I know Tay­lors needles haue eyes, and Cheeses, but a discerning eye, that's the eye I wud encounter with.

It did me more good then my dinner, I protest, to see her transported to prison againe.

And so it did me I protest, for her brothers sake my Lord Fredericke Fadoudle.

I wonder he is not taken yet, heele Fadoudle at the Gallowes, I beleeue when so ere he is, for I told the Duke what a sawcy companion he was.

Pray knock there no more my friend, thats the back gate, your best goe about.

I will doe so, and wipe your Noses for you.

I'd rather you wud let it alone, vnlesse you had a finer handkerche [...] ▪

Tis the spirit of some Porter, and wipes her with his Frock.

I, I heard it, but Ile be hangd before Ile draw for that trick.

And so will I to—See yonders a compa­ny of Gentlemen, lets flye to them for succour: Are you walking.

Heers an inuisible voyce followes vs in the like­nesse of I know not what-

And playes vpon vs like a Flute backward, and forward.

We hard a voyce indeede but felt no touch of a­ny thing.

No, It may be you are valiant and wud strike a­gaine, but we are tender hearted, and ten to one, but it knowes as much.

Why if youle walke our way, wee will guard you.

Well I am lost I see, theres no hope that e­uer I shall be seen againe of mortalls; I walke i'th [...] clouds; But that the other two before these, and before them o­thers, could not perceiue me, I should thinke I had with beating made the last paire cast a mist before their owne eyes, Iubia and my Lord of mischiefe with his two Faces Winter and Summer.

Ah you old whooremaster is the signe in Scor­pio with you.

Come I haue word sufficient nor will any longer be kept of thus weary of delay, I meane to worke y [...]u.

Here me——I will speake what shalbe liking to thee. Prythy come backe; so well I doe perceiue thou lou'st the Duchesse, that her affliction's thine.

Ile giue you a kisse anon, in your good father the Diuels name.

Another kisse, and go and promise vnto all thy friends, and to the Duchesse selfe, her liberty.

I, your Weason pipe, your Gullet, this vngodly Gullet.

This is another voice allied to that which pleaded for the Duchesse, but not the same, and it is meerely Witchcraft. I feare thee not Dinell, or Diuels mate, friend or acquaintantance.

No, the great Diuell and you are all one, which shewes I am no Diuel; for if I were, I durst not thus abuse

A pleasant fellow Sir, and one of the noble Sci­ence, for looke you Sir, ther's a Venie.

No Sir no, I am a blunt fellow, & so my weapon; nay▪ I wonnot leaue you thus.

Shew it then; for till you satisfie me in my re­quest, I shall make doubt of it.

Nay most certaine, and let him keepe it, for be­ing ignorant in the vertue of it, it may be some sport to vs to heare him chase being lost to all mankind.

O you are a stoute louer to be deiected thus, for such a vanitie as a Maidenhead is, you'd ill endure to haue your wife run away with another man two or three yeere together, and afterward brought home, and a­gaine accepted with Suppers and with Trumpets.

And Frederick by flesh and bloud as good as a­ny man or woman wud desire, feele me else.

Right, but by your leaue all is not right; either your eies are drawn aside, or my bodie is taken assunder, and nothing left certaine of mee but a hand and a voice, mas heere comes Smirke, Ile try the strength of his eie­sight.

I beseech you stay, heere is a promise of some mirth.

What are there rubs in the aire, 'tis some little dandiprat, that I ouerrun, and ten to one he has broke his Nose a­gainst my Pipkin, Where art thou?

What has he got tro there painting: that it is, since you know me not, Ile bestow a little paines to picture you, that the best friend you haue, shall hardly take ac­quaintance of you.

A Pox of these Flyes, theile neuer leaue▪ sweete Mutton, but my friend, my friend, hees gone poore fel­fellow againe.

My yong master Frederick and quondam Lord where are you?

Something plaies with my Nose I beleeue tis my whisking Muschatus, now I am come i'the wind.

Marry I meane to liue by it and purpose to set vp my old trade againe. Fre. Thy old trade, what's that?

Why a Stainer, I haue hir'd a Shop not far from Court. And I haue painted the most horrible things that many men know not what to make of them, I drew Her­cules a great while a goe in the likenes of a man, and now euery one saies he lookes like a Lion. Then I drew Acteon hunted with his owne dogs, & they say 'tis like a Citizen pursu'd with Seriants.

Why, but canst thou draw any thing into pro­portion?

Can I draw any thing into proportion; why, I will presently draw you backward or forward, a limb, twoo'd do you good to behold it.

And thou beest so good a workeman, thou shalt draw my Picture.

I wud be glad to see your face in, if it please you to come out of the Cloud.

Well Smirke, pray for me, I am a man, but in this world I haue small store of mony, and therfore can­not reward thee as I wud, but hold thee, giue mee thy hand, I can see to take thee by it, ther's a Ring, 'twill yeeld thee somewhat.

I thanke you sir, it will serue to exchange for a Corrall for my sonne and heire when I haue him.

I know what the Prouerbe saies, touch me and take me, and therefore I will keepe aloft, Zfoote hee is strucken put blind, hee gropes like a young Nouice, the contrarie way. What [...]re these blind too?

They are all blind, or else I walke invisible, Ile try that presently.

Nothing but a Flesh-flye forsooth lighted vp­pon your lips, the place is full of hem—Some-bo­dy has sprinckled inuisible Virgins water vpon me for I doe goe insensible. Heere comes the two Egges, I shall goe neere to crack their Crowes, for the last abuse, but walking as I doe, I will find out a better reuenge.

Sirrah I thinke it was much heereabout that we met with the taking voyce that kickt vs?

I wud kick you againe, but that I haue Cornes on my Toes, I will only pencill you now. And because you haue so much knauery and want colour sor't I will begin with Orange tawny.

Where art thou? So deare I loue thee for this peece of knauery that I could kisse thee, prithy let me kisse thee

No no, no more Rings, I shall thinke my selfe an Alderman, and grow proud then.

If you know any Ladie that deales in complexion you may doe me a kindnesse to acquaint her that Smirke the seruingman is turn'd a Painter.

Scena Tertia.

Wicked, wicked, extreme wicked, he cannot say his Praiers.

What a Pox is that to the purpose, has he made his will.

Yes, And in his will he doth will and command that you two shall be whipt, and that he has bequeathed you for your legacy.

Let him bestow it vpon his friends, we can liue without it.

But prithee sirrah, tell vs the manner of his sicknes which was wondrous strange and suddaine.

Why how shoud I know more then you, I am none of his Phisician.

They say but be it spoken in priuate that a Rat hants him, is it so? thou canst tell.

Marry Sir that the Neopolitan Canker has searcht into his bones: and he lies buried in vleers, stincks so that without perfumes, nobody is able to abide him. But mum mum, not a word of this I speake, it is amongst fel­lowes and friends.

Tis well you do so, for otherwise your legacies wud be bestowd vpon you, a yard or two of whipcord is no great cost, and the executors wud goe to the charge, Zbloud what Rascalls are you to vtter this, you are the inuenters of it.

Why heers the misery of great men, they cannot scape the slaunders of their slaues looke you yonder goes one of the Doctors, you were best (to be better satisfied) [...]quier of him.

One of you must instantly take horse, and ride to Doct or Lopez, and bring him hither with all speede that may be: his counsell is wanting, and it concernes your Lords life, therefore make hast, and tell him so to: Tell him the Duke will else be heere before him; from whom, if so it happen, he will receiue a check.

Ber Lady Sir, then tis to be thought the dangers more then euery Ague brings, & t'will go hard with him.

By this Aire, Earth, Fire and Water too, not I: zbloud I get no more then you, and why shud I then?

This is very well, suppose my Lord for want of this same Doctor now shall die.

Wondrous well satisfied in any point touching my saluation: onely one burden on my conscience lies, for the Duke himselfe to take away.

Cheerefull, wondrous cheerefull, all this whole day I felt not such a minute.

Be comforted good Raymond, me thinkes I see another age of life yet shine in thee, your eie is quick and sprightly, death doth not shew himselfe in any part.

Your grace is a good comforter, and your sight blowes vp this sparke of life to such a light which is but as a twinckling before death.

What, what shal I pardon? good Raymond speake, I gather by thy speech thou wouldst vnfold, somthing of consequence; you must not part thus with me, therefore good Raymond speake, borrow a little time of death, and I will pay it back out of my life: deare Raymond donnot leaue me thus vnsatisfied, for if you doe, Ile follow you to learne it.

I shal my Lord, and as I'm one of the honest men I am glad to heare it.

O noble Ladie, how shall I look thy mistres i'the face, that blush at sight of thee? prithie stand by me, and imbolden me, bee my Genius, prompt mee what I shall say, or the Scean's spoild; I shalbe out, my tongue doth falrer for ioy conceiu'd of her great goodnes, for griefe of her much iniurie.

Nay now my Lord I feare you sent for mee to mocke me.

O Maddam, you come like to the Halcion, and bring faire weather with you.

Away you are a villaine, I came back to tell you so: And long life which is a blessing to others, vnto thee's a cursse: thou shame of such a reuerence dost not see, to what a monster lust in thee is growne: at lest in mens immaginations.

One that vnder your authority performes it vp­on others.

Heeres giuing and taking as if thei'd both be rid of him.

Why heere is Landoff sir, your poore friend in safetie.

Now Gods blessing a'thy heart, if thou hast con­sen'd me thus.

So they are own'd, no body calls vpon me, nor re­gards me, nor to say the truth, I regard nobody: the losse of my inuisible Ring has broke my heart, now when I knew the vertue of it, to lose it, and to an ideot, an inno­cent, that deserues not to vnderstand the vertue of it, what dainty deuices might I haue had in euery Cham­ber of the Court, seene such a Lord kisse such a Lady the wrong way, such a Knight, lie with his Cham­bermaid, and his Lady with her Groome, the Vsher with the waiting-Gentlewoman, and the page with all. Phoebus himselfe must a come short of those things, I shud aseen, for one inuisible Ring wud discouer another.

Scena Prima.

Priuate, why there are gone out Proclamations, that whosoeuer can by deuice, or any quicke conceits de­light the Duchesse, he shall haue correspondent to his qualitie an Annuall stipend besides the fauour of the Duke for euer.

Such a thing was talkt of, for the Duke now dotes farre more on the Duchesse then at first; and what­soere is done, is to delight her.

Very noble, and so doth beare himselfe to euery [Page] man, harke, yonders such a colle with the Musirians, the Masquers, and the Dancers, who now are practising.

I donnot know how it comes about that I shud bee lost thus; villanous witchcraft will neuer bee left, I am faine to giue ouer my shop, but I had broke; howsoe­uer my painting cloath was so rotten, it could not hold together, but the best is, I shall liue like a Gentleman, because I walke inuisible, nay I am not only inuisible to other men, but to my selfe: I went this morning to a loo­king-Glasse, to be acquainted with this comely counte­nance, the diuel of countenance there was to be acquain­ted with; the Glasse seem'd to me like a deepe water, that I began to feele with my hands for feare I might a beene drown'd: But finding my selfe aboue ground, and hun­ger tumbling like a Porpin in my Maw, and doing the Somerset in my Guts, I smelt a Surloine of Beese hot from the Spit followed the traine close, set in my foote, [Page] drew my knife, slic'd me off a Collop, clapt it vpon a penny loafe, went me to a side Table, consum'd it with­out any body saying much good do you, or the Diuell choake you. Set my lips to a Flagon of Beere, drunke twice with a breath, set it downe againe, tooke it vp a­gaine, and drunke it as dry as a Bisket: so that I perceiue I cannot starue. And for cloathes, 'tis no matter how I go, no body sees me.

Pray haue a care those lights be not offensiue vnto the Ladies, they hang suspiciously, and let the hangings be remou'd.

Looke to those lights I pray, my Lord is very angry, fearing they might do trespasse, and those hang­ings must be remoued.

Pray looke to these lights, and let the hangings be remoued, the Gentleman Vsher has commanded it.

They shall sir, where's the fellow heere shud looke vnto these lights, things are done so vntowardly.

No body sees me, I come in like the aire, when Lords and Ladies stand waiting for this officer and to­ther officer, country gentlemen their pates broke, & citi­zens wiues thrust vp and downe in euery corner, their husbands kept out with flame and Torch, glad to fetch a nap i'th Cloysters.

Beare backe there, beare backe, roome for my Lord Lodwicke.

Here Madame you shall face the Duke and Duchesse, 'tis the best place to see in all the Hall.

Haue a little patience, the Reuels will beginne immediatly.

Roome for my Lord, beare backe, swoones whither wud you?

Well said, thou dost more good with thy oaths then all they with their Trunchions.

See you, yes marry doe I: And get you gone quickely, or you shall feele—I see you, go, begone this is no place for such as you.

Humh: Am I become a wretch againe, and mortall?

I am got in againe, and haue found the tricke of it, thankes my deare Iem; a man may haue an inuisi­ble Ring I see, and not know of it; I wonder'd that I grew palpable, now I perceiue how the matter went: thankes my deare Iem, I say still, I will not lose this fin­ger that I haue my inuisible Ring vpon, for the best ioynt at the Barres.

Is this all the deuices, sports, and delights, the Duke shall haue for his money: the Proclamation promised reward for him that coud shew any varieties, and ist all come to a dull Masque? Ile shew his Grace some sport my selfe, with helpe of my inuisible Ring, which now must off againe. By your Maiesties leaue, and the rest of the Honorable—

What's he? Why he is the miracle of your Kingdome.

I, and can doe wonders—now you see me you know me.

Verie good, and I doe see all you: but what's that to the purpose?

Yes marrie shall you, does not the Proclama­tion tell you shall.

I, but no body heares not on that Eare, yet be­cause I—wonnot doe Royaltie wrong, in suspecting your bountie—You see me you say.

I shoud be sorry else; for, and my inuisible Ring shoud not keepe his olde vertue, I wud hang my selfe directly.

Smirke, and our welbeloued subiect, once a Painter, but now Esquire of the inuisible Ring.

My Ring is gone now, the diuell go with it, for a my conscience he fetcht it.

I, I, and my middle finger, which serued me for more vse then all the rest.

Bee it knowne vnto all men that I,—of the Court, of Saxonie, traueller, by degree a Lord, and a professed Champion for all Ladies in the lists of peace, doe chal­lenge all Courtiers whatsoeuer, without exceptions, na­tiue or strangers, tocōfer, court, orcōplement, in silence with discorsiue motion and true action of the face, hand, body, & leg, & afterward with the vollubily of thetong, to talk longest, fastest & lowd'st, for sence I stand not vpō it, being seldome regarded by the party courted, therfore indeed belongs not to the Courtier: also bee it farther knowne that my assistants, Agents, or seconds, doth challenge likewise all Courtiers whatsoeuer, at the true compendious forme of compiling Epistles, alias Loue-Letters, to Ladies or Mistresses, either in Prose or Verse, with Prouerbes, or without Prouerbes, with Sentences, or without Sentences, Figures, or any other matter, to be performed Extempore, or not Extempore, accor­ding as it shall please the Challenged, which is to say, [Page] the Defendant to determine: All which, that afore­said, as well as this now spoken of, shall be performed by the said Challengers instantly; who onely staying to heare of any Opponents, are both ready to enter.

Let 'hem enter, they shall be answer'd; Smirke, thou shalt be my Second.

Shall I, that's some comfort yet, to put the losse of the Ring out of my thought.

Ile Pistle and Pestle him, Ile warrant him, he was nere so pounded in his life, Ile scorne to begin after my hearty commendations with him.

So nimble in rime, Ile first breake your head in Prose, and afterward whip you in Verse, Ile lambaste you in compleates.

Nay I will not lose the honour of being the cour­ted Lady.

When my talking time comes I will thanke you Lady in language.

Marke how my challenge goes, 'twas not to talke sence onely, but longest, fastest, lowdest, and you our talke me that way, Ile giue you my tongue and euery tooth I haue to make trorters on, for I was borne and [Page] [...] [Page] [...] [Page] bred and nurst a talker, and of my quallity, this Lady has had some smal experience, for I did promise her to proue a talker, and for her sake do now professe, and practic't and tis in vaine for any creature to contend with me,—I haue put downe the Lawyers of all Nations, and all wo­men, Gossips at Christnings, after they haue drunke wine the Mid-wife being there, words flow out of my mouth like water from the Cloudes, to make a deluge, to drown all voyces but my owne, which drums nor trumpets, nor a Sea flight can doe.

Lawfull let it be then, but if euer I challenge a man of his hands, to a tryall of skill with the tongue againe, Ile forsweare talking all dayes of my life, and that I wud be loath to doe—If I donnot feele the very breath that shud haue beene spent in words vpwards, to twat­tle downeward, I am avillaine.

I beleeue I smell the meaning, stand farther off, and giue roome to me and the Epistoler, you challenge all men to compose?

With figures or without figures, with sentences or without sentences.

No, expedition belongs to Clarkes, and not to Se­cretaries, celerity if you will.

Why each of vs is to indite an Epistle to our Mistresse, is it not so?

So it shud be, and yet my little Smirke heere has conceit, hee'le haue some flashes.

The challenger has the aduantage, he might pre­meditate.

No matter, Smirks best at a start, his wit is like [Page] your Hackney, all a gallop, to which hee sayes, Vtere dili­gentia, nec sis tantus cessator & calcoribus indigeas, which is clawing the Pole, as for example in your Challen­ger.

For all coulors else waue vnder the standard of your beauty.

I wonder what part of her, is Goose- [...]urd greene: Thats a colour.

Nay Smirke silence, you must not interrupt your aduersary.

I can say nothing without saying too much, nor say too much without saying nothing.

I must say nothing, or else I wud say something, but heere it is shall shame thee.

Me thinkes when thou standst'd in the sun with thy Feather on thy head, and thy Fanne in thy hand, thou look'st like the Phoenix of the East Indies, burning in spices, for Cloues, Mace, and Nutmegs are in thy breath.

The Aples of thy brest are like the Lemans of A­rabia, which makes the vessell so sweete it can neuer smell of the Caske.

Being come to your middle I must draw to an end, for my end is at the middle because of the Prouerbe. In Medio consistet virtus, and so I conclude: yours while mine owne, and afterward if it were possible Mar­maduke Ranoff.

Illustrious, bright shining, well spoken, and blood stirring Lady.

If the Rope of my Capacitie, could reach to the Belfrie of your Beautie, these words of mine like siluer Bels, might be worthy to hang in the eares of your fauor but the Ladder of my Inuention is to low to clime vp to the Steeple of your Vnderstanding.

If it were not, I shoud ring out my minde to you in a sweet Peale of most sauory conceits. For your face it is like the Sun, no man is able to indure it.

Your forehead which I will neither compare vn­to Alablaster, nor to the Lilly, but it is as it is, and [Page] so are both your eyes, for your Nose, it is a well arched Bridge, which for breuities sake I passe ouer: your Cheeks are like a good Comedy, worthy to bee clapt: your Lips, and your Teeth are incomparable; your Tongue like the instrument of Orpheus, able to tame the furies: to handle euery part of you were too much, but some parti­cular part, no man can sufficient.

Prithee let me giue thee a box on the care, for that conceit.

From top to toe you are a sweete vessell of delight, I dare not say a Barrell, for oftentimes with much ioulting, the Brewer beates out the Bunghole, and so the good liquor runs out, but you containe yours although not hoopt a­bout with the old fashion'd farthingall, but after the new fashion ti'd vp with points, to vntrusse at your pleasure, In which pleasure I leaue you, fairest of a hundred, and wittiest of a thousand: resting in little rest, till I rest who­ly yours, in the Downe-Bed of affection, where euer standing to my vtmost, I rest all in all yours.

Your censures heereafter Gentlmen; now Sir I challenge you in verse, in praise of tall women, and little women, and chuse your subiect, which you refuse Ile take.

We must haue Patience, for this verse wonnot [Page] come of so roundly as your Prose.

Sed non feci, Stay a little, here's a couple of lines, a halter on 'hem, they wonnot twist handsomely, go forward I haue ended.

There's an error little and loude my friend, but passe it.

No faith, it may be his own, for I thinke his braine

[Page] a little craz'd, and mad men shoot foorth strange things.

Hum Drum, hee has lightn'd within an Inch of a conceit of mine.

Beleeue it he has said well, Smirke looke to your selfe.

Well said, now thou art in good victuals thou't neuer out.

Incomparable Smirke, thou hast my voyce: iudg­ment.