A pleasant comedy entituled: An humerous dayes myrth As it hath beene sundrie times publikely acted by the right honourable the Earle of Nottingham Lord high Admirall his seruants. By. G.C. — Humorous day's mirth

A pleasant comedy entituled: An humerous dayes myrth As it hath beene sundrie times publikely acted by the right honourable the Earle of Nottingham Lord high Admirall his seruants. By. G.C. — Humorous day's mirth

Table of contents

Title page

A pleasant Comedie entituled An humorous dayes mirth.

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A pleasant Comedie entituled An humorous dayes mirth.

Enter the count Laberuele in his shirt and night gowne, with two iewells in his hand.

Laberuele.

YEt hath the morning sprinckled throwt the clowdes, But halfe her tincture and the soyle of night stickes [...] vpon the bosome of the ayre: yet sleepe doth rest my loue for Natures debt, and through her windowe, and this dun twee-light, her maide, nor any waking I can see. This is the holy Greene my wifes close walke, to which not any but her selfe alone hath any key, onelye that I haue clapt her key in waxe, and made this counterfeite, to the which I steale aceesse, to work this rare & politike deuice: Faire is my wife and yong and delicate, although too re [...]gious in the purest sorte, but pure religion being but mental stuffe and sence indeed, al for it selfe, is to be doubted, that when an obiect comes fit to her humour she wil intercept religious letters sent vnto her minde, and yeelde vnto the motion of her bloud, heere haue I brought then two rich agots for her, grauen with two poses of mine own deuising, for Poets Ile not trust, nor friends, nor any: shee longs to haue a child, which yet alas I cannot get, Yet long as much as she, and not to make her desperate, thus I write in this f [...]re iewell though it simple be, yet tis mine owne that meaneth well in nought, tis spare, not of children, loue [Page] with the longest, when man is at the weakest, god isatstrō gest, I hope tis plain, & knowing in this other that I write, God will reward her a thousand fold, that takes what age can and not what age would, I hope tis prety & pathetical: Wel, euen here lie both together til my loue arise and let her thinke you fall out of the skies, I wil to bed againe.

Exit.

Enter Lemot and Colenet.

Lemot.

How like thou this morning Colenet? What, shall we haue a faire day?

Colenet.

The skie hangs full of humour, and I thinke we shall haue raine.

Lem.

Why raine is faire wether when the ground is dry and barren, especially when it raines humor, for then doe men like hot sparrowes and pigeons open all their wings ready to receiue them.

Col.

Why then we may chaunce to haue a faire day, for we shall spend it with so humorous acquaintance, as raines nothing but humor al their life time.

Le.

True Colenet, ouer which wil I sit like an old King in an old fashion play, hauing his wife, his counsel, his children, and his foole about him, to whome he will sit and point very learnedly as foloweth; my counsell graue, and you my noble peeres, my tender wife, and you my children deare, and thou my foole.

Co.

Not meaning me sir I hope.

Le.

No sir, but thus will I sit, as it were, and point ou [...] all my humorous companions.

Co.

You shal do maruelous wel sir.

Le.

I thanke you for your good incouragement, but Colinet thou shalt see Catalian bring me hither an od gentleman presently to be acquainted withall, who in his manner of taking acquaintance wil make vs excellent sport.

Co.

Why Lemot I thinke thou sendst about of purpose for yong gallants to be acquainted withal, to make thy selfe merry in the maner of taking acquaintance.

[Page]Le.

By heauen I do Colenet, for there is no better sport then to obscrue the complement, for thats their word, complement, do you marke sir?

Co.

Yea sir, but what humor hath this gallant in his maner of taking acquaintance?

Le.

Marry thus sir, he will speake the very selfe same word, to a sillable after him of whome he takes acquaintance, as if I should say,

I am marueilous glad of your acquaintance, He will reply,

I am meruailous glad of your acquaintance,

I haue heard much good of your rare parts & fine cariage,

I haue heard much good of your rare parts & fine cariage, so long as the complements of a gentleman last, he is your complete ape.

Co.

Why this is excellent.

Le.

Nay sirra heres the iest of it, when hee is past this gratulation, he wil retire himself to a chimny, or a wal standing folding his armes thus: and go you and speake to him so farre as the roome you are in wil afford you, you shal neuer get him from that most gentlemanlike set, or behauior.

Co.

This makes his humor persit, I would he would come once.

Enter Catalian and [...].

Le.

See where he comes, now must I say, Lupus est in fabula, for these latine ends are part of a gentleman and a good scholler.

Catalian.

O good morrow Monseur [...], here is the gentleman you desired so much to be acquainted withal.

Le.

He is marueilous welcome, I shall be exceeding prowd of your acquaintance.

Blan.

I shal be exceeding prowd of your acquaintance.

Le.

I haue heard much good of your rare parts and fine cariages.

Blan.

I haue heard much good of your rare parts and fine cariages.

Le.

I shall be glad to be commanded by you.

[Page]Blan.

I shall be glad to be commanded by you.

Le.

I pray do not you say so.

Blan.

I pray do not you say so.

Le.

Well Gentlemen, this day let's consecrate to mirth, and Colenet you know no man better, that you are mightily in loue with loue, by Martia daughter to old Foyes.

Co.

I confesse it here are none but friends.

Le.

Wel then, go to her this morning in Countesse Moris name, and so perhaps you may get her company, thogh the olde churle bee so i [...]alous that he will suffer no man to come at her, but the vaine gull Labesha for his liuing sake, and he as yet she will not be acquainted withall.

Co.

Well this Ile [...]o whatsoeuer come on it.

Le.

Why nothing but good wil come of it, nere doubt it man.

Cata.

Hee hath taken vp his stand, talke a little further and see and you can remoue him.

Le.

I wil Cat. nowe Monsieur Blanuele marke I pray.

Blan.

I do sir very well I warrant you.

Le.

You know the old Count Laberuele, hath a passing faire yong Lady, that is a passing foule Puritane.

Blan.

I know her very well sir, she goes more like a milke maide then a Countesse, for all her youth and beautie.

Lemot.

True sir, yet of her is the old Count so iealous that he will suffer no man to come at her, yet I will find [...] meanes, that two of vs will haue accesse to her tho, [...] fore his face, which shal so heate his ielous humor til he be start mad: but Colenet go you first to louely Martia, for tis too soone for the old Lord and his faire yong Lady to rise.

Co.

Adue Monseur Blanuel.

Blan.

A due good Monsieur Colinet.

Exit Col.

Le.

Monseur Blanuel your kindnes in this wil bind me much to you.

Bla.

Monseur [...] ot your kindnes in this will bind me much to you.

[Page]Le.

I pray you do not say so sir.

Blan.

I pray you do not say so sir▪

Le.

Wilt please you to go in.

Blan.

Wilt please you to go in.

Le.

I will follow you.

Blan.

I will follow you.

Le.

It shall be yours.

Blan.

It shall be yours.

Le.

Kind Monsieur [...].

Blan.

Kind Monsier [...].

Exit.

Enter Foyes, and Martia, and [...].

Foyes.

Come on faire daughter fall to your worke of mind, and make your body fit to imbrace the body of this Gentlemans, tis art: happy are they say I.

Be.

I protest sir you speake the best that euer I heard.

Fo.

I pray sir take acquaintance of my daughter.

Be.

I do desire you of more acquaintance.

Fo.

Why dostnot thou say yea, and I the same of you?

Mar.

That euery body sayes.

Fo.

O you would be singular.

Mar.

Single indeede.

Fo.

Single indeede thats a prety toy, Your betters dame beare double, and so shall you.

Be.

Fxceeding prety, did you marke it forsooth?

Mar.

What should I marke forsooth?

Be.

Your bearing double, which equificate is & hath fit illusion to a horse that beares double, for your good [...]ather meanes you shall indure your single life no longer, not in worse sence then bearing double forsooth.

Mar.

I crie you mercy, you know both belike.

Be.

Knowlege forsooth is like a horse, and you that can beare double: it nourisheth both Bee and Spider, the Bee honnisuckle, the Spider poyson, I am that Bee.

Mar.

I thought so by your stinging witte.

Be.

Lady I am a Bee without a sting, no way hurting any, but good to all, and before all, to your sweete selfe.

[Page]Fo.

Asore God daughter, thou art not worthy to heare him speake: but who comes here?

Enter C [...]linet.

Co.

God saue you sir.

Fo.

You are welcome sir for ought that I know yet.

Co.

I hope I shall be so still sir.

Fo.

What is your busines sir, and then Ile tell you?

Co.

Ma ry thus sir, the Countesse Morene intreats your faire daughter to beare her company this fore-noone.

Fo.

This forenoone sir, doth my Lord or Lady send for her I pray?

Co.

My Lady I assure you.

Fo.

My Lady you assure me, very wel sir, yet that house is full of gallant Gentlemen, dangerous tho [...]es to prick [...] yong maides I can tell you.

Co.

There are none but honest and honourable Gentlemen.

Fo.

Al is one sir for that, Ile trust my daughter with any man, but no man with my daughter, only your selfe Monser Besha, whom I wil intreat to be her gardian, & to bring her home againe.

Co.

I will waite vpon her, and it please you.

Fo

No sir, your weight vpō her wil not be so good: here Monser Besha I deliuer my daughter vnto you a perfect maide, and so I pray you looke well vnto her.

Co.

Farewell Monser Foyes.

Besh.

I warrant Ile looke vnto her wel enough. Mistris will it please you to preambulate.

Ma.

With all my heart.

Exeunt.

Enter the puritane.

Florila

What haue I done? put on too many clothes, the day is hote, and I am hoter clad then might suffice health, my conscience telles me that I haue offended, and Ile put them off, that will aske time that might be better spent, one sin will draw another quickly so, see how the d [...]ell tempts: but whats here? iewels? how should these come here?

Enter Laberuele.

[Page]Lab.

Good morrow louelv wife, what hast tho [...] there?

Flo.

Iewels my Lord which here I strangely found.

Lab.

Thats strange indeede, what, where none comes but when your selfe is here? surely the heauens haue rained thee iewels for thy holy life, and vsing thy olde husbande [...] or else doe Fairies haunt this holy greene, as euermore, mine auncesters haue thought.

Flo.

Fairies were but in times of ignorance, not since the true pure light hath beene reuealed, and that they come from heauen I scarce belecue: for iewels are vaine things, much gold is giuen for such fantastical & fruitlesse iewels, and therfore heauen I know wil not maintain the vse of vanitie, surely I feare I haue much sinned to stoupe tak [...] take them vp, bowing my bodie to an idle worke, the strength that I haue had to this verie deed might haue beene vsed to take a poore soule vp in the hi [...] way.

Lab.

You are too curious wise, behold your iewels: what me thinks thers pos [...]es written on thē. Dispaire not of children,Then hee reades. loue with the longest, whē man is at the weakest, god is at the strongest. Wonderfull rare and wittre, nay d [...]ine, why this is heauenly cōfort for thee wife, what is this other? God will reward her a thousand [...]olde that takes what age can, & not what age would. The best that euer I heard, no mortall braine I thinke did euer vtter such conceit for good plaine matter, and for honest rime.

Flo.

Vaine Poetry, I pray you burne them sir.

La.

You are to blame wife, heauen hath sent you them to decke your self withall, like to your self, not to go thus like a milk-maid, why there is difference in all estats by al religiō.

Flo.

There is no difference.

Lab.

I prethee wife be of another mind, and weare these iewels and a [...] hood.

Flo

A veluet hood! O vaine du [...]elish d [...]uise a toy made with a superfluous flap, which being cut off, my head were still aswarme. Diogenes did cast away his dish, because his hand would serue to help him drinke, surely these heathens [Page] shall rise vp against vs.

Lab.

Sure wife I thinke thy keeping alwaies close, making thee melancholy, is the cause we haue no children, and therefore if thou wilt, be mery, and keepe companie a gods name.

Flo.

Sure my lord, if I thought I shold be rid of this same banishment of barrennes, and vse our marriage to the end it was made which was for procreation, I should sinne, if by my keeping house I should neglect the lawful means to be a fruitful mother, & therfore if it plea [...]e you ile vse resort

Lab.

Gods my passion what haue I done? who woulde haue thought her purenesle would yeeld so soone to courses of temptations? nay harke you wife, I am not sure that going abroad will cause fruitfulnesse in you, that you know none knowes but God himselfe.

Flo.

I know my lord tis true, but the lawfull means must still be vsed.

Lab.

Yea, the lawfull meanes indeed must still, but now I remember that lawfull meanes is not abroad.

Flo.

Well, well, Ile keepe the house still.

Lab.

Nay, heark you lady, I would not haue you thinke, mary, I must tel you this, if you shuld change the maner of your life, the world would think you changed religion too.

Flo.

Tis true, I will not go.

Lab.

Nay, if you haue a fancie.

Flo

Yea a fancie, but thats no matter.

La.

Indeed fancies are not for iudicial & religious womē.

Enter Catalian like a scholer.

Cat.

God saue your lordship, & you most religious lady.

Lab.

Sir you may say God saue vs well indeed that thus are thrust vpon in priuate walkes.

Cat,

A slender thrust sir, where I touch [...] you not.

Lab.

Well sir what is your busines?

Cat.

Why sir, I haue a message to my ladie from Mon [...] du Barto.

Lab.

To your lady, wel sir, speake your mind to your lady.

[Page]Flo.

You are very welcome sir, and I pray how doth he.

Cat.

In health Madam, thanks be to God, commending his dutie to your ladiship, & hath sent you a message which I would desire your honour to heare in priuate.

Flo.

My ladiship, and my honor, they be words which I must haue you leaue, they be ydle woordes, and you shal answere for them truly: my dutye to you, or I desire you, were a great deale better, then, my ladiship, or my honour.

Cat.

I thanke you for your christian admonition.

Flo.

Nay thanke God for me: Come I will heare your message with all my heart, and you are very welcome sir.

Lab.

With all my heart, and you are very welcome sir, and go and talke with a yong lustie fellow able to make a mans haire stand vpright on his head, what puritie is there in this trow you? ha, what wench of the facultie could haue beene more forward? Well sir, I will know your message, you sir, you sir, what sayes the holy man sir, come tell true, for by heauen or hell I will haue it out.

Cat.

Why you shall sir, if you be so desirous.

Lab.

Nay sir, I am more then so desirous: come sir, study not for a new deuice now.

Cat.

Not I my lord, this is both new and old, I am a scholer, and being spiritually inclined by your ladies most godly life, I am to professe the ministerie, & to become her chaplaine, to which end monsier du Barte hath commended me.

Lab.

Her chaplaine in the diuels name, fit to be vickar of hell.

Flo.

My good head, what are you afraid of? he comes with a godly & neighborly sute: what think you his words or his looks can tempt me? haue you so litle faith? if euery word he spake were a serpent, as suttle as that which tempted Eue, he cannot tempt me I warrant you.

La.

Wel answered for him lady by my faith: wel hark you Ile keepe your chaplaines place yonder for a while, and atEnter [...]. length put in one my self: what more yet? Gods my passion whom do I see, the very [...] of desolation, the miniō of our [Page] King, whome no man sees to [...]nter his hous [...] but hee lookes vp, his wife, his children, and his maides, for where hee goes hee carries his house vppon his head like a snaile: now sir I hope your busines is to me.

Lem.

No sir, I must craue a word with my ladie.

La.

These words are intollerable, & she shal hear no more

Lem.

She must heare me speake.

Lab.

Must she sir, haue you brought the kings warrant for it?

Le.

I haue brought that which is aboue Kings.

Lab.

Why euery man for her sake is a puritan. The Diuill I thinke wil shortly turne Puritan, or the Puritan will turne Diuell.

Flo.

What haue you brought sir?

Lem.

Mary this Madam, you know we ought to proue one anothers constancie, and I am come in all chast and honourable sort to proue your constancie.

Flo.

You are verie welcome sir, and I will abide your proofe: it is my dutie to abide your proofe.

Lab.

You le bide his proofe, it is your dutie to bide his proofe, how the diuell will you bide his proofe?

Flo

My good head, no other wise then before your face in all honorable and religious sort, I tell you I am constant to you, and he comes to trie whether I be so or no, which I must indure, begin your proofe sir.

Le.

Nay Madam, not in your husbands hearing, thogh in his [...]ight for there is no woman wil shewe shee is tempted from her constancie, though she be a little: withdraw your selfe sweete ladie.

L [...].

Well I will see though I do not heare, women may be courted without offence, so they resist the courtier.

Lem.

Deare and most beautifull ladie, of al the sweet honest and honorable meanes to proue the puritie of a ladi [...] constancy, kisses are the strongest, I will therefore be bold to begin my proofe with a kisse.

Fo

No sir, no kissing.

[Page]L [...].

No kissing [...] ▪ how shall I pro [...] you thē [...], not vsing the mostsufficient proofe? to flatter your selfe by affection of spirit, when it is not perfitly tried, is sin.

Flo.

You say well sir, that which is truth is truth.

Le.

Then do you wel Lady and yeeld to the truth.

Flo.

By your leaue sir, my husband sees, peraduenture it may breed an offence to him.

Lem.

How can it breed an offence to your husband to see your constancie perfectly tried.

Flo.

You are an odde man I see, but first I pray tel me how kissing is the best proofe of ohast Ladies.

Lem.

To giue you a reason for that, you must giue me leaue to be obscure and Philosophicall.

Flo.

I pray yon be, I loue Philosophie well.

Lem.

Then thus Madam: [...]uery kisse is made [...]s the voice is by imagination and appetite, and as both those are presented to the [...]re in the voyce, so are they to the silent spirites in our kisses.

Flo.

To what spirit meane you?

Lem.

To the spirites of our bloud.

Flo.

What if it doe?

Lem:

Why then my imagination, and mine appetite working vpon your eares in my voyce, and vpon your spirites in my kisses, pearcing therein the more deeply, they giue the stronger assault against your constancie.

Flo.

Why then to say, proue my constancy, is as much as to say, kisse me.

Lem.

most true rare Ladie.

Flo.

Then prooue my constancie.

L [...]m.

Beleeue me Madam, you gather exceeding wittily vpon it.

Lab.

O my forehead, my very heart akes at a blowe, what dost thou meane wife? thou wilt loose thy fame, discredite thy religion, and dishonour me for euer.

Flo.

Away sir, I wil abide no more of your proofe, nor endure any more of your triall.

[Page]Lem.

O she dares not, she dares no [...] I am as glad I haue tride your puritie as may be: you the most constant La [...]y in France? I know an hundred Ladies in this towne that wil dance, [...]uill all night amongst gallants, and in the morning goe to bed to her husband as cleere a woman as if she were new christned, kisse him, imbrace him, and say, no, no husband, thou art the man, and he takes her for the woman.

Flo.

And all this can I doe.

La.

Take heede of it wife.

Flo.

Feare not my good heade, I warrant you for him.

Lem.

Nay Madam, [...]iumph not before the victorie, howe can you conquer that, against which you neuer striue, or striu [...] against that which neuer incounters you To liue idle in this walke, to inioy this companie, to weare this habite, and haue no more delights then those will affoorde you, is to make vertue an idle huswife, and to hide herselfe slouthfull cobwebbes that still should be adorned with actions of victorie: no Madam, if you wil vnworthilly prooue your constancie to your husband, you must put on rich apparrell, fare daintily, heare mufique, reade Sonetes be continually courted, kisse, daunce, feast, reuell all night amongst gallants, then if you come to bed to your husband with a cleere minde, and a cleere body, then are your vertues [...]; then haue you passed the ful test of experiment, and you shall haue an hundred gallants fight thus farre in bloud for the defence of your reputation.

Lab.

O vanitie of vanities!

Flo.

O husband this is perfect tryall indeede.

La.

And you wil try all this now, wil you not?

Flo

Yea my good head, for it is written, we must passe to perfection through al temptation, Abacu [...] the fourth.

Lab.

Abacucke, cucke me no cuckes, in a doores I saye, th [...]ues, Puritanes, murd [...]s, in a doores I [Page] say.

Exit.

Le.

So now is he start mad yfaith: but sirra, as this is an old Lorde iealous of his yong wife, so is antient Countesse Moren iealous of her yong husband, weele thither to haue some sport yfaith.

Exit.

Enter Besha hanging vpon Martia sl [...]ue, and the Lord Moren comes to them.

Mar.

I prethee Besha keepe a little off; hang not vpon her shoulders thus for shame.

Be.

My Lord, Pardon a moy, I must not let her talk alone with any one, for her father gaue me charge.

Mar.

O you are a goodly charger for a Goose.

Be.

A Goose, you are a Gander to call me Goose, I am a christian Gentleman as well as you.

Mar.

Well sirra get you hence, or by my troth Ile haue thee taken out in a blanket, tossed from forth our hearing.

Be.

In a blanket? what do you make a puppie of me, by [...]kies and stones I will go and tell your Lady.

Exit.

Mor.

Nay but Besha.

Mar.

Nay he will tell my Lorde.

Enter the Countesse Moren and [...].

Co.

Why how now my Lord, what thought you I was dead, that you are wooing of another thus, or are you laying plots to wor [...]e my death?

Mor.

Why n [...]ither sweete bird, what need you moue these questions vnto me, whome you know loues you aboue all the women in the world?

Co.

How he can flatter now he hath made a fault.

Besh,

He can do little, and he cannot cogge.

Mor.

Out you asse.

Co.

Wel, come tell me what you did intreat.

Mor.

Nothing by heauen sweete bird I sweare, but [...] in [...]at her loue.

[Page]Co.

But to intreat her loue.

Mor.

Nay heare me out.

Co.

Nay here you are out, you are out too much me thinkes, and put me in.

Mor.

And put you in?

Co.

In a faire taking sir I meane.

Mor.

O you may see what hastie taking is, you women euermore scramble for our woordes, and neuer take them mannerly from our mouths.

Con.

Come tell me what you did intreat.

Mor.

I did intreat her loue to Colinet.

Con.

To Colinet? O he is your deare cousen, and your kinde heart yfaith is neuer well but when you are doing good for euery man: speake, do you loue me?

Mor.

Yfaith sweete bird.

Con.

Best of all others.

Mor.

Best of all others?

Con.

Thats my good bird yfaith.

Besh.

O mistris, will you loue me so?

Mor.

No by my troth will I not.

Besh.

No by my troth will I not: Why thats well said, I could neuer get her to flatter me yet.

Enter Lemot, Bla [...]l, and Catalian, and Colinet.

Le

Good morrow my good Lord, and these passing louely Ladies.

Cat.

So now we shall haue all maner of flattering with Monsieur Lemot.

Le

You are all manner of waies deceiued Madam, for I am so farre from flattering you, that I do not a whit praise you.

Con.

Why do you call vs passing louely then?

Lem.

Because you are passing from your louelines.

Mar.

Madam we shall not haue one mot of Monsieur Lem [...], but it shal be as it were a mote to drown al our conceit in admiration.

Le.

See what a mote her quick eye can spie in mine, be [...]ore [Page] she lookes in it.

[...]ar.

So mote I thee, thine answer is as good as mought be.

Le.

Heres a poore name run out of breath quickly.

Co.

Why Monsieur Lemot, your name is runne out of breath at euery word you speake.

Le.

Thats because my name signifies word.

Mar.

Wel hit, Monsieur verbum.

Le.

What are you good at latine Lady?

Mar.

No sir, but I know what verbum is.

Le.

Why tis greenebum, ver is greene, and you know what bum is, I am sure of that.

Mar.

No sir, tis a verbe, and I can decline you.

Lem.

That you can Ile be sworne.

Mar.

What can I do?

Le.

Decline me, or take me a hole lower, as the prouerbe is.

Mar.

Nay sir, I meane plaine Gramatical declination

Le.

Well, let's heare your schollership, and decline me.

Mar.

I will sir, mo [...], motas.

Besha.

O excellent! she hath cald him asse in latine.

Le.

Well sir, forward.

Mar.

Nay theres enough to trie both our scholerships

Le.

Moto, motas, nay faith forward to motani, or motandi.

Mar.

Nay sir, Ile leaue when I am well.

Co.

Why Monsieur Lemot, your name being in word general, is in nini, or in hammer, or in cock, or in buzzard.

Le.

Or in wagtaile, or in woodcocke, or in dotteril, or in dizard.

Ma.

Or in clotte, or in head, or in cow, or in baby.

Le.

Or in maukin, or in trash, or in pape, or in Lady.

Co.

Or in deed in euery thing.

Le.

Why then tis in Thing.

Ma.

Then good Monsier Thing, there let it rest.

Le.

Then aboue all things I must haue a woorde with you.

[Page]Be.

Hands off sir, she is not for your mowing.

Le.

She is for your mocking.

Be.

And she mocke me, Ile tell her father.

Le.

Thats a good child, thou smellest of the mother, and she was a foole I warrant you.

Be.

Meddle with me, but doe not meddle with my mother.

Le.

Thats a good child, come, I must needes haue a word with you.

Be.

You shall do none of your needs with her sir.

Cata.

Why what will you do?Then he offereth to draw.

Be.

What will I doe? you shall see what Ile do.

Blan.

Go to you asse, offer to draw here, and weele draw thee out of the house by the heeles.

Be.

What, three against one? now was euer proper hard fauord Gentleman so abused?

Go to Mistris Martia, I see you well enough, are you not ashamed to stand talking alone with such a one as hee?

Le.

How sir? with such a one as I sir?

Be.

Yea sir, with such a one as you sir.

Le.

Why, what am I?

Be.

What are you sir? why I know you well enough.

Le.

Sirra tel me, what you know me for, or else by heauen Ile make thee better thou hadst neuer knowne how to speake.

Be.

Why sir, if you wil needes know, I know you for an honorable gentleman and the Kings minion, and were it not to you, theres nere a gentleman in Paris should haue had her out of my hands.

Ma.

Nay, hees as tall a Gentleman of his hands as auy is in Paris.

Col.

Theres a fauour for you sir.

Le.

But I can get no fauour for you sir.

Blan.

I pray my Lord intreat for your cossen Colinet.

Mo.

Alas man, I dare not for my wife.

[Page]Cat.

Why my Lord she thinkes it is for nothing, but to speake for your cosen.

Mo.

I pray you birde, giue me leaue to speake for my cosen.

Co.

I am content for him.

Mo.

Then one woorde with you more, curteous ladie Martia.

Be.

Not, and you were my father.

Mo.

Gentlemen, for God sake thrust this asse out of the doores.

Lem.

Nay, birladye he le runne home and tell her father.

Ca.

Well, go to her, I warrant he shall not trouble you (kind gentleman) how we dote on thee: imbrace him gentlemen.

Blan.

O sweete Besha how we honour thee.

Co.

Nay Gentlemen, looke what a pearcing eye hee hath.

Be.

An eie? I haue an eie and it were a pole-cat.

Ca.

Nay, looke what a nose he hath.

Be.

My nose is nete crimson.

Blan.

Nay, looke what a handsome man he is, O Nature, Nature, thou neuer madest man of so pure a feature.

Be

Truly truly Gentlemen, I do not deserue this kindnesse.

Ca.

O Lorde sir, you are too modest, come shall we walke?

Be.

Whither? to the alehouse?

Le

Hearke you Madam, haue you no more care of the right of your husband, then to let him talke thus affectionately with another?

Coun.

Why he speakes not for himselfe, but for his cosen Colinet. Enter Lemot.

Le.

Gods my life? he telles you so, nay and these excuses may serue I haue done.

[Page]Con.

By the masse now I obserue him, he lookes very suspitiously indeede, nere trust me if his lookes, and his iesture doe not plainely shewe himselfe to sweare, by this light I do loue thee.

Lem.

Burlady Madam you gesse shrewdly indeede, but hearke you Madam, I pray let not me be the author of discord betweene my good Lord and you.

Con.

No no Monsieur Lemot, I were blinde if I could not see this, ile slit her nose by Iesus

Me.

How now whats the matter?

Co.

Whats the matter? if I could come at your Mistris, she should know whats the matter.

Mo.

My Mistris?

Co.

Yea your Mistris, O heres faire dissimulation, O ye impudent gossip, do I send for you to my house to make you my cōpanion, and do you vse me thus? little dost thou know what tis to loue a man truly, for if thou didst, thou wouldst be ashamed to wrong me so.

Mar.

You wrong me Madam to say I wrong you.

Co.

Go to, get you out of my house.

Mar.

I am gone Madam.

Mor.

Well, come in sweete bird and Ile perswade thee, ther's no harme done.

C.

Well, we shall heare your perswasions.

Le.

Well God knowes, and I can partly gesse what he must do to perswade her: well, take your faire charge, faire and manly L. Monsieur Labes [...]a.

Co.

One word with you more faire ladie.

Le.

Not a word, no man on paine of death, not a word, he comes vpon my rapiers point, that comes within fortie foote on her.

Be.

Thankes good Lemot, and thankes gentlemen all, and her father shal thanke you.

C.

Much good do it you sir: come Gentlemen, lets go wait vpon the king, and see the humour of the young lord Dowseger.

[Page]Lem.

Excuse me to the King, and tell him I will meet him there: so this is but the beginning of sport betweene this fine lord and his old lady: but this wench Martia hath happy starres raigned at the disposition of her beautie, for the King him selfe doth mightily dote on her. Now to my Puritane, and see if I can make vp my full proofe of her.

E [...]ter the puritane in her best a [...]yre.

Flo.

Now am I vp and ready, ready? why? because my cloathes once on, that call we ready: but readinesse I hope hath reference to some fit action for our seuerall state: for when I am attyred thus Countesse-like, tis not to worke, for that befittes me not, tis on some pleasure, whose chiefe obiect is one mans content, and hee my husbande is, but what need I thus b [...] attyred, for that he would be pleased with meaner weed? besides I take no pleasure thus to please him: I am content, because it is my duty to keep to him, and not to seeke no further: but if that pleasure be a thing that makes the time seeme short, if it do laughter cause, if it procure the tongue but hartily to say, I thanke you, I haue no such thing, nor can the godliest woman in the worlde, against her nature please her sense, or soule, she may say, this I will, or this I will not. But what shall she reape hereby? comfort in an other world, if she will stay till then.

Enter her husband behind her.

Lab.

Yea mary sir now I must looke about, now if her desolate proouer come againe, shal I admit him to make farther triall? Ile haue a Dialogue betweene my selfe and manly reason: to that speciall end reason, shall I indure a desolate man to come and court my wife, and proue her constancie: reason, to court and proue her you may beare my lord, for perfite things are not the worse for triall; gold will not turne to drosse for deepest triall: before God a comfortable saying; thanks gentle reason, Ile trouble you no more. [Page] God saue sweet wife, looke vp, thy tempter comes.

Flo.

Let him my lord, I hope I am more blest then to relent in thought of lewde suggestion.

Lab.

But if by frailtie you should yeeld in thought, what will you do?

Flo.

Then shall you keepe me close, and neuer let me see man but your selfe, if not, then boldly may I go abroade.

Lab.

But how, shall I know whether you yeeld, or no?

Flo.

Heare vs your selfe, my lord.

Lab.

Tut, that were grosse, for no woman will yeeld in her husbands hearing.

Flo.

Then to assure you if I yeelde or no, marke but these signes: as hee is proouing me, if I doe yeelde, you shall perceyue my face blush and looke pale, and put on heauie lookes. If I resist I will triumph, and smile, and when I hold but vp my finger, stop his vaine lips, or thrust him on the breast, then is he ouerthrowne both horse and foote.

Lab.

Why, this doth satisfie me mightily: see hee is come.

Lem.

Honor to my good lord, and his faire yong ladie.

Lab.

Nowe Monsieur Sathan, you are come to tempt and prooue at full the spirit of my wife.

Lem.

I am my lord, but vainly I suppose.

Lab.

You see she dares put on this braue attire fit with the fashion, which you think serues much to lead a woman into light desires.

Lem.

My lord I see it: and the sight thereof doth halfe dismay me to make further proofe.

Lab.

Nay prooue her, proue her sir, and spare not: what doth the wittie minion of our King thinke any dame in France will say him nay? but proue her, proue her, see and spare not.

Lem.

Well sir, though halfe discouraged in my comming, yet Ile go forward: ladie, by your leaue.

Flo.

Nowe sir, your cunning in a Ladyesproofe.

[Page]Lem.

Madam, in prouing you I find no proofe against your piercing glauncings, but swear I am shot thorow with your loue.

Flo.

I do beleeue you: who will sweare he loues, to get the thing he loues not? if he loue, what needs more perfite triall?

Lem.

Most true rare ladie.

Flo.

Then are we fitly met, I loue you too.

Lem.

Exceeding excellent.

Flo.

Nay, I knowe you will applaude mee in this cou [...]se, but to let common circumstaunces passe, let vs be familiar.

Lem.

Deare life, you rauish my conceit with ioy.

Lab.

I long to see the signes that she will make.

Flo.

I told my husband I would make these signes: if I resisted, first hold vp my finger, as if I said, yfaith sir you are gone, but it shall say, yfayth sir, we are one.

Lab.

Nowe shee triumphes, and pointes to heauen I warrant you.

Flo.

Then must I seeme as if I woulde heare no moret and stoppe your vaine lips, go cruell lippes, you haue bewitcht me, go.

Lab.

Now she stops in his scorned wordes, and rates him for his paines.

Flo.

And when I thrust you thus against the breast, then are you ouerthrowne both horse and foote.

Lab.

Now is he ouerthrowne both horse and foote.

Flo.

Away vaine man, haue I not answered you?

Lem.

Madam, I yeeld and sweare, I neuer saw so constant, nor so vertuous a ladie.

Lab.

Now speake I pray, and speake but truly, haue you not got a wrong sow by the eare?

Lem.

My lord, my labor is not altogether lost, for now I find that which I neuer thought.

Lab.

A sirrah, is the edge of your steele wit rebated then against her Adamant?

[Page]L [...]m.

It is my Lord, yet one word more faire ladie.

Lab.

Faine would he haue it do, and it will not be: harke you wife, what signe will you make mee nowe if you relent not?

Flo.

Lend him my handkerch [...] to wipe his lips of their last disgrace.

L [...]b.

Excellent good, go forward, see I pray.

Flo.

An other signe yfaith, loue is required.

Lem.

Let him haue signes inowe, my heauenly loue, then knowe there is a priuate meeting this day at Verones ordinarie, where if you will do me the grace to come, and bring the beauteous Martia with you, I wil prouide a faire and priuate roome, where you shal be vnseene of any man, onely of me, and of the King himselfe, whom I will cause to honour your repaire with his high presence, and there with Musicke and quicke r [...]llings you may reuiue your spirits so long time dulled.

Flo.

Ile send for Martia then, and meete you there, and tell my husband, I wil locke my selfe in my choise walke till supper-time: we pray sir, wipe your lips of the disgrace they tooke in their last labour.

Lem.

Mary the diuell was neuer so dispited.

Lab.

Nay stay, see.

Lem.

No, no, my L, you haue the constantst wife that euer: wel, Ile say no more.

Exit.

Lab.

Neuer was minion so disminioned, come constancie, come my girle, Ile leaue thee loose to twentie of them yfaith.Th [...]n he sighes.

Flo.

Come my good head, come.

Exit.

Enter the King and all the lords, with the Trumpets.

King.

Why sound these Trumpets in the Diuelles name.

C.

To shew the King comes.

King.

To shew the King comes? Go hang the Trumpetters, they mocke me boldly, and euery other thing that [Page] makes me knowne, not telling what I am, but what I seem, a King of clouts, a scarcrow, full of cobwebs, spiders and [...]arewigs, that sets Iackdawes long tongue in my bosome, and vpon my head, and such are all the affections of loue swarming in me, without commaund or reason.

Lem.

Howe nowe my liege! what quackemyred in Philosophie, bounde with loues whipcorde, and quite robbed of reason: and Ile giue you a receyte for this presently.

King.

Peace L [...]mot, they say the yong lord Dow [...]ger is rarely learned, and nothing lunatike as men suppose, but hateth companie, and worldly trash, the iudgement and the iust contempt of them, haue in reason arguments that breake affection (as the most sacred Poets write) and still the roughest wind: and his rare humour come we now to heare.

Lem.

Yea, but hearke you my hege, Ile tell you a better humour then that, here presently will be your faire loue Martia, to see his humour, and from thence faire countesse Florula, & she will go vnto Verones ordinarie, where none but you and I, and Count Moren, will be most m [...]ry.

King.

Why Count Moren I hope dares not aduenture into any womans companie, but his wiues.

Lem.

Yes, as I will worke, my liege, and then let me alone to keepe him there till his wife comes.

King.

That will be royall sport: see where all comes: welcome faire lords and ladies.

Enter Laberuele, Labesha, [...]nd all the rest.

Lab.

My liege you are welcome to my poore house.

Lem.

I pray, my liege know this Gentleman especially, he is a Gentleman borne I can tell you.

King.

With all my heart: what might I call your name?

Lab.

Monsieur Labesha, si [...]iora defoulasa.

Ki. Defoulasa.

an il sounding barendri [...] of my word: but to the purpose, lord Laberuele, we are come to see the humour [Page] of your rare sonne, which by some meanes I pray let vs pertake.

La.

Your highnes shal too vnworthily pertake the sight which I with griese and teares daily behold, seeing in him the end of my poore house.

King.

You know not that (my lord) your wife is yong, and he perhaps hereafter may be mooued to more societie.

La.

Would to God hee would, that wee might do to your crowne of France, more worthy and more acceptable seruice.

King.

Thanks good my lord, see where he appeeres.

Enter Lauc [...] with a picture, and a paire of large hose, and a codp [...] ▪ and a sword.

K.

Say Lauel, where is your friend the yo [...]g lord Dowsecer?

La.

I looke my liege he will be here anone, but then I must intreat your Maiestie and all the rest, to stand vnseen, for he as yet will brooke no companie.

King.

We will stand close Lauele, but wherefore bring you this apparell, that picture, and that sword?

Lau.

To put him by the sight of them in mind of their braue [...]ates that vse them, or that at the least of the true vse they should be put vnto.

King.

Indeede the sence doth still stir vp the soule, and though these obiects do not worke, yet it is very probable in time she may, atleast, we shal discerne his humor of thē.

Lem.

See where he comes contemplating, stand close.

Enter Dowsecer.

Qui [...] Dei [...] videri magnum in rebus humanis quae aeterni [...] to thy [...]sque notas sic omnibus magna tutor, what can seeme strange to him on earthly things to whom the whole course of [...], and the round compasse of the world is knowne? a speech [...], but yet I maruaile much how it should spring from thee, [...] Cicero that sold for gl [...]ry the sweet peece of life, & make a torment of rich natu [...]s [...] work▪ wearing thy selfby watchful candel light, when all the [...] & Weauers were at rest, and yet was gallant [Page] ere the day bird sung to haue a troope of clyents at thy gates, a [...]med with religious suplicati [...], such as wold make sterne Minos laugh to reade: look on our lawyers billes, not one containes vntue or honest drifts; but he cares▪ he cares, he cares; [...]or aco [...] now are in request, but the okes poore fruite did nourish men, men were li cokes of body, tough, and strong men were like Gyants then, but Pigmies now, yet full of villanies as their skinne can hold.

Le.

How like you this humor my liege?

King.

This is no humour, this is but persit iudgement.

Coun.

Is this afrensie?

Mar.

O were al men such, men were no men but gods: this earth a heauen.

Do.

See see the shamelesse world, that dares present her mortall [...]nemie with these gro [...]e [...] of her [...] and steele, vncharitable stuffe, good spittle-sounders, enemies to whole skinnes, as if there were not waies enow to die by natural and casuall accidents, diseases, surfcits, brauc carowses, old aquavitae, and too base wiues, and thousands more hence with this art of murder. But here is goodly geare, the soule of man, for tis his better part, take away this, and take away their in [...]ites, and their spirites, scarce dare they come in any publike view, without this countenance giuer, and some dares not come, because they haue it too, for they may sing, [...]n written books they find it, what is it then the fashion, or the cost, the cost doth match, but yet the fashion more, for let it be but meane, so in the fashion, & tis most gentleman like, is it so? make a hand in the margent, and burne the booke, a large house and a codpe [...]ce makes a man a codpece, nay indeed but house must down: well for your gentle forgers of men, and sor you come to rest me into fashion, Il [...] weare you thus, and sit vpon the matter.

La.

And he doth despise our purposes.

Ca.

Beare with him yet my Lorde, hee is not resolued.

[Page]La.

I would not haue my friend mocke worthy men, for the vaine pride of some that are not so.

Dow.

I do not here deride difference of states, no not in shew, but wish that such as want shew might not be scorned with ignorant Turkish pride, beeing pompous in apparel, and in mind: nor would I haue with imitated shapes [...]enne make their natiue land, the land of apes, [...]uing like strangers when they be at home, and so perhaps beare strange hearts to their home, nor loo [...]e a snuffe like a piann [...]ts taile, for nothing but their tailes and formall lockes, when like to creame boules all their vertues swim in their set faces, all their in parts then fit to serue pesants or make curdes for dawes: but what a stocke am I thus to neglect this figure of mans comfort this rare peece?

La.

Heauens grant that make him more humane, and sotiable.

King.

Nay hees more humane then all we are.

La.

I feare he will be too sharp to that sweete sex.

Dow.

She is very faire, I thinke that she be painted; and if she be sir, she might aske of mee, how many is there of our sexe that are not? tis a sharpe question: marry and▪ I thinke they haue small▪ skill, if they were all of pain [...] twere safer dealing with them, and indeed were their minds strong enough to guide their bodies, their beuteous deeds shoulde match with their heauenly lookes, twere necessarie they should weare them, and would they vouchsafe it, euen I would ioy in the [...] societie.

Ma.

And who would not die with such a man?

Dow.

But to admire them as our gallants do, O what an eie she hath, O dainty hand, rare foote and legge, and leaue the minde respectles, this is a plague, that in both men and women make such pollution of our earthly beeing: well I will practice yet to court this peece.

La.

O happie man, now haue I hope in her.

King.

Me [...]inkes I could indure him daies and nights.

Dow.

W [...] sir, now thus must I do sir, ere it come to [Page] women▪ now [...] a plague vpon it, tis so ridiculous I can no further: what poore a [...]e was it that set this in my way? now if my father should be the man: Gods precious coles tis he.

Lab.

Good sonne go forward in this gentle humor, obserue this picture, it presents a maide of noble birth and excellent of parts, whom for our house and honor sake, I wish thou wouldst confesse to marrie.

Dow.

To marrie father? why we shall haue children.

La.

Why that's the ende of marriage, and the ioye of men.

Do.

O how youare decen [...]d, you haue but me, & what a trouble am I to your ioy? but father, if you long to haue some fruite of me, see father I will creepe into this stuborne earth and mixe my flesh with it, and they shall breede grasse, to fat oxen, asses and such like, and when they in the grasse the spring conuerts into beasts nourishment, then comes the fruite of this my body forth; then may you well say, seeing my race is so profitably increased, that good fat oxe, and that same large eard asse are my sonne sonnes, that caulfe with a white face is his faire daughter, with which, when your fields are richly filled, then will my race content you, but for the ioyes of children, tush tis gone, children will not deserue, nor parents take it: wealth is the onely father & the child, and but in wealth no man hath any ioy.

La.

Some course deare sonne take for thy honor sake.

Dow.

Then father heres a most excellent course.

La.

This is some comfort yet.

Dow.

If you will strait be gone and leaue me here, Ile stand as quietlye as anye lambe, and trouble none of you

La.

An haplesse man.

Le.

How like you this humour yet my liege?

King.

As of a holy fury, not a frensie.

Mor.

See see my liege, he hath seene vs sure.

King.

Nay looke how he viewes Martia and makes him fine.

[Page]Lem.

Yea my liege, and she as I hope wel obserued, hath vttered many kind conceits of hers.

King.

Well Ile be gone, and when shee comes to Verones ordinarie, Ile haue her taken to my custodie.

Lem,

Ile stay my liege, and see the euent of this.

King.

Do so Lemot.

Exit the king.

Dow.

What haue I seene? howe am I burnt to dust with a new Sun, and made a nouell Phoenix, is she a woman that obiects this sight, able to worke the chaos of the world into gestion? O diuine aspect, the excellent disposer of the mind shines in thy beautie, and thou hast not chaunged my soule to sense but sense vnto my soule, and I desire thy pure societie, but euen as angels do, to angels flie.

Exit.

Mar.

Flie soule and follow him.

Lab.

I maruaile much at my sonnes sodaine straunge behauiour.

Lem.

Beare with him yet my Lord, tis but his humour: come, what shall we go to Verones ordinarie?

Lab.

Yea for Gods sake, for I am passing hungry.

Mor.

Yea, come Monsieur Lemot, will you walke?

Count.

What, will you go?

Mor.

Yea sweet bird, I haue promised so.

Count.

Go to, you shall not go and leaue me alone.

Mor.

For one meale gentle bird: Veron inuites vs to buy some iewels he hath brought of late from Italie: Ile buy the best, and bring it thee, so thou wilt let me go.

Count.

Well said flattering Fabian, but tel me then what ladies will be there?

Mor.

Ladies? why none.

Lem.

No ladies vse to come to ordinaries. Madam.

Count.

Go to bird, tell me now the very truth.

Mor.

None of mine honour bird, you neuer heard that ladies came to ordinaries.

Cou [...]t

O thats because I should not go with you.

Mar.

Why tis not fit you should.

Cou.

Well heark you bird, of my word you sh [...] not g [...], [Page] vnlesse you will sweare to me, you will neither court nor kisse a dame in any sort, till you come home againe.

Mar.

Why I sweare I will not.

Count.

Go to, by this kisse.

Mar.

Yea, by this kisse.

Foies.

M [...]rtia, learne by this when you are a wife.

Lab.

I like the kissing well.

Flo.

My lord Ile leaue you, your sonne Dowsecer hath made me melancholy with his humour, and Ile go locke my selfe in my close walke till supper time.

Lab.

What, and not dine to da [...]?

Flo.

No my good head: come Martia, you and I will fast togither.

Mar.

With all my heart Madam.

Exit.

Lab.

Well Gentlemen Ile go see my sonne.

Exit.

F [...]y.

Birlady Gentlemen Ile go home to dinner.

Labe.

Home to dinner? birlord but you shall not, you shall go with vs to the ordinarie, whe [...]e you shall meete Gentlemen of so good carriage, and passing cōplements, it will do your hart good to see them, why you neuer saw the best sort of Gentlemen if not at ordinaries.

Foy.

I promise you thats rare, my lord, and Monsieur Lemot, Ile meet you there presently.

Lem.

Weele expect your comming.

Ex [...]nt all.

Enter Uerone with his Napkin vpon his shoulder, and his man Iaques with another, and his sonne bringing in cloth and napkins.

Uer.

Come on my maisters, shadow these tables with their white vailes, accomplish the court Cupboord, waite diligently to day for my credite and your owne, that if the meate should chance to be raw, yet your behauiors being neither rude nor raw, may excuse it, or if the meate should ch [...]unce to be tough, be you tender ouer them in your attendance, that the one may beare with the other.

[Page]Iaq.

Faith some of them bee so hard to please, finding fault with your cheere, and discommending your wine, saying, they fare better at Verones for halfe the mony.

Boy.

Besides, if there be any cheboules in your napkins, they say your nose or ours haue dropt on them, and then they throw them about the house.

Uer.

But these bee small faultes, you may beare with th [...], young Gentlemen and wilde heades will be doing.

Enter the Maide.

Maid.

Come, whose wit was it to couer in this roome, name in the of God I trowee.

Boy.

Why I hope this roome is as faire as the other.

Maid.

In your foolish opinion: you might haue tolde a wise body so, and kept your selfe a foole still.

Boy.

I cry you mercie, how bitter you are in your prouerbs.

Maid.

So bitter I am sir.

Uer.

O sweet Sateena I dare not say I loue thee.

Iaq.

Must you controule vs you proud baggage you?

Maid.

Baggage? you are a knaue to call me baggage.

Iaq.

A knaue? my maister shall know that.

Ver.

I will not see them.

Iaq.

Maister, here is your Maid vses her selfe so sawsily, that one house shall not holde vs two long, God willing.

Uer.

Come hither huswife. P [...]rdon mee sweete Iacenan, I must make an angry face outwardly, though I smile inwardly.

Maid.

Say what you will to me sir.

Ver.

O you are a fine Gossip, can I not keepe honest seruants in my house, but you must controule them? you must be their mistres.

Maid.

Why I did but take vp the cloth, because my mistresse would haue the dinner in an other roome, and hee called me baggage.

[Page]Iaq.

You called me knaue and foole, I thanke you [...] bones.

Ma.

Go to, go to, she were wise enough would talke with you.

Boy.

Go thy waies for the prowdest harlo [...] that euer came in our house.

Ver.

Let her alone boy, I haue scoold her I warant thee, she shall not be my maide long, if I can helpe it.

Boy.

No, I thinke so sir, but what, shal I take vppe the cloath?

Ue.

No, let the cloth lie, hither theile com [...]st, I am sure of it, then If they will dine in the other roome, they shal.

Enter R [...]l.

Ro.

Good morrow my host, is no body come yet?

U [...].

Yo [...] worship is the first sir.

Ro.

I was [...]ited by my cosen [...], to see your [...].

Ve.

I thanke his worship and yours.

R [...].

Heres a prettie place for an ordinarie, I am very so [...] I haue not vsed to come to ordinaries.

Ve.

I hope we shall haue your company hereafter.

Ro.

You are very like so.

Enter Berger.

Ber.

Good morrow my host, good morrow good Monsieur Rowle.

Ro.

Good morrow to you sir,

Ber.

What are we two the first▪ giue's the [...], [...] come, this gentleman and I wil go to card [...] while [...] be ready.

Ro.

No [...]uly I cannot p [...]y at [...].

Ber.

How! not play, O for shame say not so, [...]ow can a yong gentleman spend his time but in play, and in courting his Mistris: come [...] this, least youth take too much of the other.

Ro.

Faith I cannot play, and yet I care not so much [Page] to venture two or three crownes with you.

Ber.

O I thought what I shuld find of you, I pray God I haue not met with my match.

Ro.

No trust me sir, I cannot play.

Ber.

Hearke you my host, haue you a pipe of good Tabacco?

Ue.

The best in the towne: boy drie a leafe.

Boy.

Theres none in the house sir.

V [...].

Drie a docke leafe.

Be.

My host, do you know Monsieur Blanuel?

Ue.

Yea passing well sir.

Be.

Why, he was taken learning trickes at old Luci [...] house the muster mistris of all the smocktearers in Paris, and both the bawde and the pander were carried to the dungeon.

Ve.

There was dungeon vpon dungeon, but call you her the muster-mistris of al the smocktearers in Paris?

Be.

Yea, for she hath them all trained vp afore her.

Enter Blanuel.

Bla.

Good morow my host, good morow gentlemen al.

Ue.

Good morow Monsieur Bl [...]l, I am glad of your quicke deliuery.

Bla.

Deliuery, what didst thou thinke I was with child?

Ve.

Yea of a dungeon.

Bl [...].

Why, how knew you that?

Ro.

Why Berger told vs.

Bla.

Berger who told you of [...]?

Be.

One that I heard, by the lord.

Bla

O excellent, you are still playing the wagge.

Enter Lemot and Moren.

Le

Good morrow Gentlemen all, good morrow good Monsieur [...] ▪

Ro.

At your seruice.

Le.

I pray my lord look what a prety falling band he hath, tis pretty fantasticall, as I haue seen made, with good iudgement, great shew, and but tittle cost.

[Page]Mor [...].

And so it is I promise you, who made it I pray?

Row

I know not yfaith, I bought it by chance.

Le.

It is a very pretty one, make much of it.

Enter [...] [...]ing.

Ca.

Boy, I prethee call for a course napkin. Good morrow Gentlemen, I would you had bin at the tenniscourt, you should haue seene me a beat Monsieur [...], and I gaue him fifteene and all his faults.

Le.

Thou didst more for him, then euer God wil do for thee.

Ca.

Iaques, I prethee fill me a cup of canary, three parts water

Le.

You shall haue all water and if it please you.

Enter Maide.

Ma.

Who cald for a course napkin?

Ca.

Marry I, sweete heart, do you take the paines to bring it your selfe, haue at you by my hosts leaue.

Ma.

Away sir, fie for shame.

Ca.

Hearke you my host, you must marry this young wench, you do her mighty wrong els.

Ver.

O sir, you are a merry man.

Enter Foyes and Lab [...].

Foy.

Good morrow gentlemen, you see I am as good as my word.

Mo.

You are sir, and I am very glad of it.

Le

You are welcome Monsieur Foyes: but you are not, no not you.

Be.

No, welcome that Gentleman, tis no matter for me.

Le.

How sir? no matter to you, by this rush I am angry with you, as if al our loues protested vnto you were dissembled, no matter for you?

Bo.

Nay sweet L [...]mot be not angry, I did but iest, as I am a Gentleman.

[Page]Lem.

Yea but theres a difference of iesting, you wrong all our affections in so doing.

Be.

Faith and troth I did not, and I hope sirs you take it not so.

All.

No matter for me, twas very vnkindly sayd, I must needs say so.

La.

You see how they loue me.

F [...]y.

I do [...]r, and I am very glad of it.

B [...],

And I hope Le [...]ot, you are not angry with me s [...]

L [...].

No faith, I am not so very a foole to be angry with one that cares not for me.

Be.

Do not I care for you? nay then.

C [...].

What, dost thou cry?

Be.

Nay I do not cry, but my stomacke waters to thinke that you should take it so heauily, if I do not wish that I were cut into three peeces, and that these peeces were turned into three blacke puddings, and that these three blacke puddings were turned into three of the fairest Ladies in the land for your sake, I would I were hanged, whata diuel can you haue more then my poore heart?

C [...].

Well harke you Lemot, in good faith you are too blame to put him to this vnkindnes, I prethee be friends with him.

Le.

Well, I am content to put vp this vnkindnesse for this once, but while you liue take heede of: no matter for me.

Be.

Why is it such a hainous word?

Le.

O the h [...]ousest word in the world.

Be.

Wel, Ile neuer speake it more, as I am a gentleman.

Le.

No I pray do not.

F [...]y.

My lord, will your lordship go to cards?

Lor.

Yea with you Monsieur Foyes.

Ro.

Lemot, will you [...]y▪

Le.

Pardon good Monsieur Rowle, if I had any disposition to gaming your company should draw me before any mans here.

[Page]F [...]y.

Labesha, what will you play?

Lab.

Play, yea with all my heart, I pray lend me three pence.

Row

Ile play no more.

Cat.

Why, haue you wonne or lost?

Row.

Faith I haue lost two or three crownes.

Cat.

Well to him againe, Ile be your halfe.

L [...].

Sirrah, C [...], while they are playing at cardes, [...]hou and I will haue some excellent sport: sirrah, dost tho [...] know that same Gentleman there?

Cat.

No yfaith, what is he?

L [...].

A very fine gull, and a neat reueller, one thats heire to a great [...]ing, yet his father keepes him so short, that h [...] shirts will [...]cant couer the bottom of his belly, for all his ga [...] outside, but the linings be very foule and swea [...], yea and perhappes lowsie, with dispising the vaine shiftes of the world.

Ca [...].

But he hath gotten good store of money now me thinks.

Lem.

Yea, and I wonder of it, some ancient seruing man of his fathers, that hath gotten fo [...] shillings in fiftie years vpon his great good [...], he swearing monstrous oth [...] to pay him againe, and besides to doe him a good tu [...]e (when God shall heare his prayer for his father) hath lent it him I warrant you, but howsoeuer, we must speake him faire.

Cat.

O what else!

L [...] ▪

God saue sweete Monsieur R [...], what loose or win, loose or win?

Row.

Faith sir saue myselfe, and loose my money.

Lem.

Theres a prouerbe hit dead in the necke like a Co [...]y, why hearke thee Cata [...], I could haue told thee before what he would haue said.

Cat.

I do not thinke so.

L [...].

No, thou seest heers a fine plumpe of gallants, such as thinke their wits singular, and their selues rarely accomplished, [Page] yet to shew thee how brittle their wittes be, I will speake to them seuerally, and I will tell thee before what they shall answer me.

Cat.

Thats excellent, lets see that yfaith.

Lem.

Whatsoeuer I say to Monsieur Rowlee, he shall say, O sir, you may see an ill weed growes apace.

Cat.

Come, lets see.

Lem.

Now Monsieur Rowlee, me thinks you are exceedingly growne since your comming to Paris.

Row.

O sir, you may see an ill weed growes a pace.

Cat.

This is excellent, forward sir I pray.

L [...].

What so [...] I s [...]y to Labe [...], he shall answer [...]e, blacke will b [...]e no other hue, and that same olde Iustice, as gr [...]e of a stale prouerbe, he shall come in the [...]e of that and say, Blacke is a pearle in a womans eye.

Cat.

Yea, much yfayth.

L [...].

Looke thee, here comes hither L [...]sha, Cat [...]. and I haue beene talking of thy complexion, and I say that all the faire ladies in France would haue beene in loue with thee, but that thou art so blacke.

Labe.

O sir blacke will beare no other hue.

F [...].

O sir blacke is a pearle in a [...]mans eye.

L [...].

You say true sir, you say true sir, [...]rrah Cata [...], whatsoere I say to Berger that is so busie at Cardes, [...]e shall answer me, sblood, I do not meane to die as long as I can see one aliue.

Cat.

Come let vs see you.

Lem.

Why Berger, I thought thou hadst beene d [...]d, I haue not heard thee chide all this while.

Ber.

Sblood, I do not meane to die, as long as I can see one aliue.

Cat.

Why but hearke you L [...], I hope you cannot [...]ake this lord answer so roundly.

Lem.

O, as right as any of them all, and he shall aunswere mee with an olde Latine Prouerbe, that is, [...]us pro [...] facis.

[Page]C [...].

O [...] more lets see.

L [...].

My lord, your lordship could not play at this game verie latelie, and nowe me thinkes you are growne exceeding perfite.

M [...]r.

O sir, you may see, vs [...] [...]ptus facit.

Enter Iaques.

Iaq.

Monsieur L [...]ot, here is a Gentleman and two Gentlewomen do desire to speake with you.

L [...].

What are they come? [...]es, conuey them into the inwarde Parlour by the inwarde roome, and there is a brace of Crownes for thy labour, but let no b [...] know of their being here.

I [...].

I warrant you sir.

Lem.

See where they come: welcome my good lord and ladies, Ile come to you presently: so, now the sport begins, I shall starte the disguised King plaguilie, nay I shall put the ladie that loues me in a monstrous fright, when her husband comes and finds her here.

Boy.

The Gentleman, and the two Gentlewomen desires your companie.

L [...].

Ile come to them presently.

Foy.

Gentlemen, Ile go speake with one, and come toThe boy speakes in Foies his [...]ar you presently.

Lem.

My lord, I would speake a worde with your lordship, if it were not for interrupting your game.

Lord.

No, I haue done Lemot.

Lem.

My lord there must a couple of ladies dine with vs to day.

Lord.

Ladies? Gods my life I must be gone.

Lem.

Why, hearke you my Lorde, I knewe not of their comming I protest to your Lordship▪ and woulde you haue mee turne such faire Ladies as these are away?

Lord

Yea but hearke you Lemot, did not you heare mee sweare to my Wife, that I woulde not tarie, if there [Page] were any women, I wonder you would suffer any to come there.

Lem.

Why you swore but by a kisse, and kisses are no holie things, you know that.

Lord.

Why but hearke you Lemot, indeed I would be very loath to do any thing, that if my wife should know it, should displease her.

Le.

Nay then you are to obsequious, hearke you, let me intreate you, and Ile tell you in secrete, you shall haue [...] worse company then the Kings.

Lord.

Why will the King be there?

L [...].

Yea, though disguised.

Lord.

Who are the ladies?

Lem.

The flowers of Paris, I can tell you, faire co [...]tesse Florila, and the ladie Mar [...]a.

Enter Ia [...]e.

Iaq.

Monsieur Lemot, the gentleman and the two Gentlewomen desire your companie.

Lem.

Ile come to them straight: but Iaq [...]s come hith [...] I prethee, go to Labesha, and tell him that the Countesse Florila, and the ladie Martia be here at thy maisters house: and if it come in question hereafter, denie that thou tolde him any such thing.

Iaq.

What, is this all? Sblood Ile denie it, and [...]eare it too.

Lem.

My Lorde, Ile goe and see the roome be [...]e and fine, and come to you presently.

L [...].

Yea but hearke you L [...]t▪ I prethee take [...] order that they be not knowne of any women in the house.

Lem.

O how shuld they now to his wife go yfaith!

Exit.

Iaq.

Hearke you, Monsieur Lab [...], I pray let me speak a worde with you.

Labe.

With all my heart, I pray looke to my stake, theres three pence vnder the Candl [...].

Iaq.

I pray see, do you know the Countesse Florila and the ladie Martia?

[Page]Lab.

Do I know the ladie Martia? I knew her before she was borne, why do you aske me?

Ia.

Why, they are both here at my masters house.

Lab.

What, is Mistris Martia at an ordinarie?

Ia.

Yea that she is.

La.

By skies and stones Ile go and tel her father.

Exit.

Enter Lemot and the Countesse.

Cou.

What you are out of breath me thinks Monsieur Lemot?

Le

It is no matter Madam, it is spent in your seruice, that beare your age with your honesty, better then an hundred of these nise gallants, and indeed it is a shame for your husband, that contrary to his oath made to you before dinner, he shoud be now at the ordinary with that light huswife Martia, which I could not chuse but come and tell you; for indeede it is a shame that your motherly ca [...] should be so slightly regarded.

Co.

Out on thee strumpet and accu [...]st, and miserable dame.

Le.

Well, there they are: nothing els now, to her husband go I.

Exit.

Co.

Nothing els quoth you, can there be more? O wicked man, would he play false, that would so simply vow, and sw [...]re his faith, and would not let me be displeased a minute, but he would sigh, and weepe til I were pleased, I haue a knife within thats rasor sharp, and I wil lay an yron in the fire, making it burning hot to mark the strump [...]t, but [...]will bee colde too ere I can come thither, doe something wretched woman, staies thou here?

Exit.

Enter Lemot.

Le.

My lorde, the roome is neate and fine, wilt please you go in?

Ue.

Gentlemen, your dinner is ready.

All.

And we are ready for it.

Le.

Iaquis, shut the doores let no body come in.

Exeunt omnes.

[Page]Enter Laberuele, Foyes, Labesha, and the Countesse.

La.

Where be these puritanes, these murderers, let me come in here?

F [...].

Where is the strumpet?

Co.

where is this harlot, let vs come in here.

La.

What shall we do? the streets do wonder at vs, and we do make our shame knowne to the world, let vs go, and complaine vs to the King.

Fo.

Come Labesha, will you go?

La.

No no I scorne to go; no King shal heare my plaint, I will in silent liue a man forlorne, mad, and melancholy, as a cat, and neuer more weare hat band on my hat.

Enter Moren, and Martia.

Mo.

What dost thou meane? thou must not hang on me.

Mar.

O good lord Moren, haue me home with you, you may excuse all to my father for me.

Enter Lemot.

Lem.

O my lord, be not so rude to leaue her now.

Lor.

Alas man, and if my wife should see it, I were vndone.

Enter the King and another.

Ki.

Pursue them sirs, and taking Martia from him, conuay her presently to Valeres house.

What vilain was it that hath vttered this.

Enter the Purit [...] to Lemot.

Le.

Why twas euen I, I thanke you for your gentle tearmes, you giue me vilain at the first, I wonder where [...] this old doter, what doth he thinke we feare him.

Flo.

O monstrous man, what, wouldst thou haue him take vs?

[Page]Le.

Would I quoth you, yea by my troth would I, I know he is but gone to cal the constable, or to raise the streets.

Flo.

What meanes the man trow? is he mad?

Le.

No, no, I know what I do, I doe it of purpose, I long to see him come and raile at you, to call you harlot, and to spu [...]e you too, O you'l loue me a great deale the better, and yet let him come, and if he touch but one thread of you, Ile make that thread his poyson.

Flo.

I know not what to say.

Le.

Speake, do you loue me?

Flo.

Yea surely do I.

Le,

Why then haue not I reason that loue you so dearely as I do, to make you ha [...]ull in his sight, that I might more freely enioy you.

Flo.

Why let vs be gon my kind Lemot, and not be wondered at in the open streets.

Le.

Ile go with you through fire, through death, throgh hell, come giue me your owne hand, my owne deare heart, this hand that I adore and reuerence, and loath to haue it, touch an olde mans bosome, O let me sweetely kisse it; he bites.

Flo.

Out on thee wretch, he hath bit me to the bone, O barbarous Canibal, now I perceiue thou wilt make me a mocking stocke to all the world.

Le.

Come, come, leaue your passions, they cannot mooue mee, my father and my mother died both in a day, and I [...]ung mee a peale for them, and they were no sooner brought to the church and laide in their graues, but I fetcht me two or three fine capers aloft, and took my leaue of them, as men do of their mistresses at the ending of a galiard; Besilos manus.

[...]lo.

O brutish nature, how accurst was I euer to indure the sound of this damned voice?

Le.

Well, and you do not like my humor, I can be but sory for it, I bit you for good will, and if you accept it, so, if no, go.

[Page]Flo.

Vilain, thou didst it in contempt of me.

Le.

Well, and you take it so, so be it: harke you Madam, your wisest course is, euen to become puritane againe, put off this vaine attire, and say, I haue despised all: thanks my God, good husband, I do loue thee in the Lord, and he (good man) will thinke all this you haue done, was but to shew thou couldest gouerne the world, and hide thee as a rainebow doth a storme: my dainty wench, go go, what shall the flattering words of a vaine man make you forget your dutie to your husband? away, repent, amend your life, you haue discredited your religion [...]or euer.

Flo.

Well wench, for this foule shame thou puttest on me, the curse of all affection light on thee.

Exit.

Le.

Go Abacuck, go, why this is excellent, I shal shortly become a schoolemaster, to whom men will put their wiues, to practise; well now wil I go set the Queene vpō th [...] King, and tell her where he is close with his wench: and he that mends my humor, take the spurres: sit fast, for by heauen, ile iurke the horse you ride on.

Enter my host, Catalian, Blanuel, Berger, Iaquis, Maide, and Boy.

Host.

Well Gentlemen, I am vtterly vndone without your good helpes, it is reported that I receiued certaine ladies or gentlewomen into my house: no heres my man, my maid, and my boy, now if you saw any, speak boldly before these Gentlemen.

Ia.

I saw none sir.

Boy.

Nor I, by my maid [...]ad.

Boy.

Nor I, as I am a man.

Ca.

Wel my host, weele go answere for your house at this t [...]e, but if at other times you haue had wenches, and would not let vs know it, we are the lesse beholding to you.

Exe [...]t al, but my host and the Gentleman.

Ber.

Peraduenture the more beholding to him, but I laye my life Lemot hath deuised some i [...]ast, he gaue [Page] vs the slip before dinner.

Cat.

Well Gentlemen, since we are so fitly mette, Ile tell you an excellent subiect for a fit of myrth, and if it bee well handled.

Ber.

Why, what is it?

Cat.

Why man, Labe [...]ha is grown mar [...]elous malecontent, vpon some amorous disposition of [...]is mistres, and you know he loues a mease of cream, and a spice-cake with his heart, and I am sure he hath not dined to day, and he hath taken on him the humour of the yong lord Dowsecer, and we will set a mease of creame, a spice-cake, and a spoone, as the armour, picture, and apparell was set in the way of Dowsecer, which I doub [...] not but will woorke a rare cure vpon his melancholie.

Host.

Why, this is excellent, Ile go fetch the creame.

Cat.

And I the cake.

Ber.

And I the spoone.

Exeunt, and come in againe.

Cat.

See where hee comes as like the lord Dowsecer as may be, nowe you shall heare him begin with some Latin sentence that hee hath remembred euer since hee read his Accidence.

Enter Labesha.

La.

F [...]lix quē faciunt a [...]iena pericula [...]. O sillie state of things, for things they be that cause this sillie state: andHe spie [...] the cre [...]. what is a thing, a bable, a toy, that stands men in small stead: but what haue we here? what vanities haue we here?

Host.

He is strongly tempted, the lord strengthen [...]im, see what a vaine he hath.

Lab.

O cruell fortune, and dost thou spit thy spite at my p [...]ore life: but O sowre creame what thinkest thou that I loue thee still? no, no, faire and sweete is my mistries, if thou haddest strawberries and sugar in thee: but it may bee thou art set with stale cake to choke me: well taste it, and trie it, spoonefull by spoonefull: bitterer and bitterer still, but [...] sowre creame, wert thou an Onion, [...]ince Fortune set thee [Page] for mee, I will eate thee, and I will de [...]our thee in spite of Fortunes spite, choake I, or burst I, mistres for thy sake, to end my life e [...]te I this creame and cake.

Cat.

So he hath done, his Melancholy is well eased I warrant you.

Host.

Gods my life Gentlemen, who hath beene at this creame?

Lab.

Creame, had you creame? where is your creame? Ile spend my penny at your creame.

Cat.

Why, did not you eate this creame?

Lab.

Talke not to me of creame, for such vaine meate I do despise as food, my stomack dies drowned in the cream boules of my mistres eyes.

Cat.

Nay-stay Labesha.

Lab.

No not I, not I.

Host.

O he is ashamed yfayth: but I will tell thee howe thou shalt make him mad indeed, say his mistres for loue of him hath drowned her selfe.

Cat.

Sblood, that will make him hang himselfe.

Exeunt omnes.

Enter the Queene, Lemot, and all the rest of the lordes, and the Countesse: Lemots arme in a scarffe.

Lemot.

haue at them yfayth with a lame counterfeite humor: ake on rude arme, I care not for thy paine, I got it nobly in the kings defence, and in the gardiance of my faire Queenes right.

Qu.

O tell me sweet Lemot, how fares the king? or what his right was that thou didst defend?

Lem.

That you shall know when other things are told.

Lab.

Keepe not the Queene too long without her longing.

Foyes.

No, for I tell you it is a daungerous thing.

Coun.

Little care cruell men how women long.

Le.

What would you haue me then put poyson in my breath, and burne the [...]ares of my attentiue Queene.

[Page]Quee.

Tell me what ere it be, Ile beare it all.

Lem.

beare with my rudenesse then in telling it, for alas you see I can but act it with the left hande, this is my gesture now.

Quee.

Tis well enough.

Le [...].

Yea well enough you say, this recompence haue I for all my woundes: then thus the King inamoured of an other ladie compares your face to hers, and saies that yours is fat and flat, and that your neather lip was passing big.

Quee.

O wicked man, doth he so sodainlie condemne my beautie, that when he married me he thought diuine: for euer blasted be that strumpets face, as all my hopes are blasted, that did change them.

Lem.

Nay Madam, though he saide your face was fat, and flat, and so forth, yet he liked it best, and said, a perfect beautie should be so.

La.

O did he so! why that was right euen as it should be.

Foy.

You see now Madam, howe much too hastie you were in your griefes.

Que.

If he did so esteeme of me indeed, happie am I.

Coun.

So may your highnesse be that hath so good a husband, but hell hath no plague to such an one as I.

Lem.

Indeed Madam, you haue a bad husband: truly then did the king growe mightily in loue with the other ladie, and swore, no king could more inriched be, then to inioy so faire a dame as shee.

Cat.

O monstrous man, and acurst most miserable dame!

Le.

But saies the king I do inioy as faire, & though I loue in al hono [...]ed sort, yet Ile not wrōg my wife for al the world

Foy.

This proues his constancie as firme as brasse.

Que.

It doth, it doth: O pardon me my lord, that I mistake thy ro [...]all meaning so.

Coun

In heauen your highnesse liues, but I in hell.

Lem.

But when he vewd her radient eyes againe, blinde was hee strooken with her feruent beames: and now good [Page] King he gropes about in corners voide of the chearefull light should guide vs all.

Que.

O dismall newes, what is my soueraigne blind?

Le.

Blind as a Beetle madam, that a while houering aloft, at last in cowsheds fall.

Lab.

Could her eyes blind him?

Lem.

Eyes or what it was I know not, but blind I am sure he is as any stone.

Q.

Come bring me to my Prince my lord that I may leade him, none aliue but I may haue the honour to direct his feete.

Lem.

How lead him madam? why hee can go as right as you, or any here, and is not blind of eyesight.

Quee.

Of what then?

Lem.

Of reason.

Quee.

Why thou saidest he wanted his cheerfull light.

Lem.

Of reason still I meant, whose light you knowe should cheerefully guide a worthie King, for he doth loue her, and hath forced her into a priuate roome where now they a [...]e.

Quee.

What mocking chaunges is there in thy wordes fond man, thou murtherest me with these exclaimes.

Lem.

Why madam tis your fault, you cut mee off before my words be halfe done.

Quee.

Forth and vnlade the poyson of thy tongue.

Lem.

Another lord did loue this curious ladie, who hearing that the King had forced her, as she was walking with another Earle, ran straightwaies mad for her, and with a friend of his, and two or three blacke ruffians more, brake desperately vpon the person of the King, swearing to take from him, in traiterous fashion, the instrument of procreation: with them I fought a while,, and got this wound, but being vnable to resist so many, came straight to you to fetch you to his ayde.

Lab.

Why raised you not the streetes?

Lem.

That I forbore, because I would not haue the [Page] world, to see what a disgrace my liege was subiect to, being with a woman in so meane a house.

Foy.

Whose daughter was it that he forst I pray?

Lem.

Your daughter sir.

La.

Whose sonne was that ranne so mad for her?

Lem.

Your sonne my Lord.

La.

O Gods, and fiends forbid.

Co.

I pray sir, from whom did he take the Ladie?

Le.

From your good Lord.

Co.

O Lord I beseech thee no.

Le.

Tis all too true, come follow the Queen and I, where I shall leade you.

Qu.

O wretched Queene, what would they take from him?

Le.

The instrument of procreation.

Enter Moren.

Mo.

Now was there euer man so much accurst, that when his minde misgaue him, such a man was haplesse, to keep him company? yet who would keep him company but I, O vilde Lem [...]t, my wife and I are bound to curse thee while we liue, but chiefely I, well: seeke her, or seek her not; find her, or find her not, I were as good see how hell opens, as looke vpon her.

Enter Catalian, and Berger behind him.

Ca.

We haue yfaith, stop thou him there, and I wil meet him here.

Mo.

Well, I will venture once to seek her.

Ber.

Gods Lord, my Lord, come you this way, why your wife runnes ranging like as if she were mad, swearing to slit your nose if she can catch you.

Exit.

Mo.

What shal I do at the sight of her and hern.

Ca.

Gods precious my Lord, come you this way, your wife comes ranging with a troope of dames, like Bacchus drunken foes, iust as you go, shift for your selfe my Lord.

Mo.

Stay good Cat [...]lian.

Ca.

No not I my Lord.

Exit.

[Page]Mo.

How now Iaques, whats the newes?

Enter Iaques.

Iaq.

None but good my Lord.

Mo.

Why hast not seene my wife run round about the streets.

Ia.

Not I my Lorde, I come to you from my maister, who would pray you to speake to Lemot, that Lemot might speake to the King, that my masters lottery for his iewells may go forward, he hath made the rarest deuice that euer you heard, we haue fortune in it, and she our maide plaies, and I, and my fellow carrie two torches, and our boy goes before and speakes a speech, tis very fine yfaith sir.

Mo.

Sirra in this thou maiest highly pleasure me, let me haue thy place to beare a torch, that I may look on my wife, and she not see me, for if I come into her sight abruptly, I were better be hanged.

Ia.

O sir you shall, or any thing that I can do, Ile send for your wife to.

Mor.

I prethee do.

Ex [...]unt both.

Enter the Queene, and all that were in before.

Le.

This is the house where the mad Lord did vow to do the deed, draw all your swoords couragious gentlemen, Ile bring you there where you shall honor win, but I can tell you, you must breake your shinne.

Ca.

Who will not breake his necke to saue his King: set forward Lemot.

Le.

Yea, much good can I do with a wounded arme, Ile go and call more helpe.

Qu.

Others shall go, nay we will raise the streets, better dishonor, then destroy the King.

Le.

Sbloud I know not how to excuse my villany, I would faine be gone.

Enter Dowsecer, and his friend.

Dow.

Ile geld the adulterous goate, and take from him the instrument, that plaies him such sweete musicke.

[Page]La.

O rare, this makes my fiction true: now ile stay.

Quee.

Arrest these faithlesse tra [...]trous gentlemen.

Dow.

What is the reason that you call vs traitours?

La.

Nay, why do you attempt such violence against the person of the King?

Dow.

Against the King, why this is strange to me.

Enter the King, and Martia.

Ki.

How now my masters, what? weapons drawne, come you to murder me.

Qu.

How fares my Lord?

Ki.

How fare I? well, but you yfaith shall get me speak for you another time; he got me here to wooe a curious Lady, and she temptes him, say what I can, ouer what state I will in your behalfe Lemot, she will not yeeld.

Le.

Yfaith my liege, what a hard heart hath she, well hearke you, I am content your wit shall saue your honesty for this once.

Ki.

Peace, a plague OR you, peace; but wherefore asked you how I did?

Quee [...]e.

Because I feared that you were hurte my Lord.

Ki

Hurt, how I pray?

Lem.

Why, hurt Madam, I am well againe.

Quee.

Do you aske? why he told me Dowsecer and this his friend, threatned to take away.

Ki.

To take away, what should they take away.

Le.

Name it Madam.

Qu.

Nay, I pray name it you.

Le.

Why then, thus it was my liege, I told her Dowsecer, and this his friende threatned to take away, and if they could the iustrument of procreation, and what was that now, but Martia beeing a fayre woman, is not shee the instrument of procreation, as all women are.

Qu.

O wicked man.

[Page]Le.

Go to, go to, you are one of those fiddles too yfaith.

Ki.

Well pardon my minion, that hath frayd you thus, twas but to make you mery in the end.

Qu.

I ioy it endes so well, my gracious [...]ord.

Fo.

But say my gracious Lord, is no harme done, betweene my louing daughter, and your grace?

Ki.

No, of my honor and my soule Foyes.

Dow.

The fire of loue which she hath [...]indled in me being greater then my heate of vanity, hath quite expelled.

Ki

Come Dowsecer, receiue with your lost wittes your loue, though los [...] ▪ I know youle yeeld, my lord and you her father.

Both

Most ioyfully my Lord.

Ki.

And for her part I know her dispositiō well enough.

Lem.

What, will you haue her?

Dow.

Yea mary will I.

Le.

Ile go and tell Labesha presently.

Enter Iaquis, and my Host.

Ia.

Monsieur I emot, I pray let me speake with you, I come to you from the [...]ord Moren, who would desire you to speake to the King for my masters lottery, and he hath my place to beare a torch, for bare faced hee dares not look vpon his wife, for his life.

Le.

O excellent, Ile further thy masters lottery and it be but for this iest only, har [...]e you my liege, heres the poore man hath bin at great charges for the preparation of a lottery, and he hath made the rarest deuice, that I know you wil ta [...]e great pleasure in it, I pray let him present it before you at [...] house.

Ki.

Whith all my heart, can you be ready so soone?

Host.

Presently and if it like your grace.

Ki.

But hearke you Lemot, how shall we do for euery mans posie.

Le.

Will [...]ou all trust me with the making of them?

All.

With all our hearts.

Le.

Wh [...] then Ile go to make the poses and bring I abesha to the lottery presently.

[Page]Enter Florila like a Puritan.

Flo.

Surely the world is full of vanitie, a woman must take heed she do not heare a lewd man speake, for euery woman cannot when shee is tempted, when the wicked fiend gets her into his snares escape like me, for graces measure is not so filled vp, nor so prest downe in euery one as me, but yet I promise you a little more: well, Ile go seeke my head, who shal take me in the gates of his kind armes vntoucht of any.

King.

What Madam are you so pure now?

Flo.

Yea, would not you be pure?

King.

No puritane.

Flo.

You must be then a diuell. I can tell you.

Lab.

O wife where hast thou beene?

Flo.

where did I tell you I would be I pray.

Lab.

In thy close walke thou saidst.

Flo.

And was 'not?

Lab.

Truly / know not, I neither looked nor knocked, for Labesha told me that you, and faire Martia were at Verones ordinarie.

Ki.

Labesha? my lord you are a wise man to belecue a fool.

Flo.

Well my good head, for my part I forgiue you: but surely you do much offend to be suspicious: where there is no trust, there is no loue, and where there is no loue twixt man and wife, theres no good dealing surely: for as men should euer loue their wiues, so should they euer trust thē, for what loue is there where there is no trust?

King.

She tels you true, my lord.

Lab.

Shee doth my liege; and deare wife pardon this and I will neuer be suspicious more.

Flo.

Why I say, I do.

Enter Lemot, leading Labesha in a halter.

Lem.

Looke you my liege, I haue done simple seruice amongest you, here is one had hanged himselfe for loue, thinking his Mistresse had done so for him: well, see your Mistresse [...]ues.

Labes [...].

And doth my Mistresse liue?

[Page]King.

Shee doth, O noble knight, but not your Mistresse now.

Lab.

Sblood, but she shall for me, or for no body else.

Lem.

How now, what a traitor, draw vpon the King.

Lab.

Yea, or vpon any woman here in a good cause.

King.

Well sweete Besha let her marry Dowsecer, Ile get thee a wife worth fifteene of her, wilt thou haue one that cares not for thee?

Lab.

Not I by the Lord, I scorne her, Ile haue her better if I can get her.

King.

Why thats well faid.

Lem.

What Madam, are you turned puritan againe?

Elo.

When was I other, pray?

Lem.

Marie Ile tell you when, when you went to the Ordinarie, and when you made false signes to your husband, which I could tell him all.

Flo.

Cursed be he that maketh debate twixt man & wife.

Lem.

O rare scripturian! you haue sealed vp my lips, a hall, a hall, the pageant of the Butterie.

Enter two with torches, the one of them Moren, then my host and his son, tben his maid drest like Queene Fortune with two pots in her hands.

King.

What is he?

Lem.

This is Verones sonne, my liege.

King.

What shall he do?

Cat

Speak some speach that his father hath made for him

Qu.

Why is he good at speeches?

Cat.

O he is rare at speaches.

Boy.

Faire ladies most tender, and nobles most slender, and gentles whose wits be scarce.

Ki.

My host, why do you call vs nobles most slender?

Host.

And it shall please your Grace, to be slender is to be proper, and therfore where my boy saies nobles most slender, it is as much to say, fine and proper nobles.

Le.

Yea, but why do you call vs gentles whose wits are scarce.

[Page]Host.

To be scarce, is to be rare: and therefore where as he sayes Gentles whose wits be scarce, is as much as to say, Gentles whose wits be rare.

Lem.

Well, forwards trunchman.

Boy.

Faire ladies most tender, and nobles most slender, and gentles whose wittes bee scarce, Queene Fortune doth come with her trumpe, and her drumme, as it may appeare by my voice.

Lab.

Come hither, are you a schoolemaister, where was Fortune Queene, of what countrey or kingdome?

Host.

Wy sir, Fortune was Queene ouer all the world.

Lab.

Thats a lie, theres none that euer conquered all the world, but maister Alisander, I am sure of that.

Lem.

O rare Monsieur Labesha, who would haue thought hee could haue found so rare a fault in the speach.

Host.

Ile alter it if it please your grace.

King.

No, tis very well.

Boy.

Father I must begin againe they interrupt me so.

Ho.

I beseech your grace giue the boy leaue to begin again.

King.

With all my heart, tis so good we cannot heare it too oft.

Boy.

Faire ladies most tender, and nobles most slender, and gentles whose wittes are scarce, Queene Fortune doth come with her Fife, and her Drum, as it doth appeare by my voice, here is Fortune good, but il by the rood, and this naught but good shall do you, dealing the lots out of our pots, and so good Fortune to you sir.

Lem.

Looke you my liege, how hee that caries the torch trembles extreamly.

Kin.

I warrant tis with care to carie his torch well.

Lem.

Nay there is something else in the wind: why my host [...]hat meanes thy man Iaques to tremble so?

Host.

Hold still thou knaue, what art thou afraid to looke vpon the goodly presence of a king: hold vp for shame.

Lem.

Alas poore man, he thinks tis Iaques his man: poore lord, how much is he bound to suffer for his wife?

[Page]King

Hearke you mine host, what goodly person is that? is it Fortune herselfe?

Host.

Ile tell your Maiestie in secrete who it is, it is my maide Iaquena.

King.

I promise you she becomes her state rarely.

Lem.

Well my [...]ege, you w [...]re all content that I should make your poses: well here they be euery one: giue Master Verone his fiue crownes.

King.

Theres mine aud the Queenes.

Labesh.

Theirs ours

D [...]w.

And there is mine and Martias.

Lem.

Come Labesha thy money.

Lab

You must lend me some, for my boy is runne away with my purse.

Le.

Thy boy? [...] neuer knew any that thou hadst.

Lab.

Had not I a boy three or foure yeares ago, and he ran away.

Lem.

And neuer since he went thou hadst not a peny, but stand by, Ile excuse you. But sirrah [...], thou shalt stand on one side and reade the prises, and I will stand on the other and read the Poses.

Cat.

Content Lemot.

Lem.

Come on Queene Fortune, tell eueryman [...]is posie, this is orderly, the King and Queene are first.

King.

Come let vs see what goodly poses you haue giuen vs.

Lem.

This is your Maiesties, At the fairest, so it bee not Martia.

King.

A plague vpon you, you are still playing the villaines with me.

Le.

This is the Queenes, Obey the [...]ueene: and she speakes it to her husband, or to Fort [...]ne, which she will.

C [...]t.

A prise: your [...] is the summe of foure shillings in gold

King.

Why how can th [...]t [...]e [...] is no such coyne.

H [...]st.

Here is the worth of it, if it [...] your grace.

[Page]Quee.

Well, whats for me?

Ca.

A heart of gold.

Quee.

A goodly iewell.

Le.

Count Laberuele and Floril [...].

La.

Whats my posie sir I pray?

Le.

Mary this my Lord,

Of all fortunes friends, that hath ioy in this life,

He is most happy that puts a sure trust in his wife.

La.

A very good one sir, I thanke you for it.

Flo.

Whats mine I pray?

Le.

M [...]ry this Madam,

Good fortune be thou my good fortune bringer,

And make me amends for my poore bitten finger.

La.

Who bit your finger wife?

Flo.

No body; tis vaine posie.

Ca.

Blanke for my lord Laberuele, for his wife a posie, a paire of holy beades with a crucifix.

Flo.

O bommination Idole, Ile none of them.

Ki.

Keep [...] them thy self Veron, she will not haue them.

Le.

Dowsecer and Martia I haue fitted your lordship for a posie.

Dow.

Why what is it?

Le.

An [...]o omnia vna.

Ma.

And what is mine sir?

Le.

A serious one I warrant you change: for the better.

Ma.

Thats not amisse.

Ca.

A price: Dow [...]r hath a cats eyes or Mercuries rod of gold, set with Ia [...]inths and Emeralds.

Do [...]

What is for Martia?

Ca.

M [...]rtia hath the two serpents heades set with Diamonds.

Le.

What my host Uerone?

Ki.

What [...]s he in for his owne [...]ewells.

Le.

O what els my liege, tis our bountie, and his po [...]e is To tel you the t [...]th in words plaine and mild, Veron [...] loues his maide, and she is great with child.

[Page]Ki.

What Queene for [...]e with child, [...]hall we hau [...] yong fortunes my host?

Host.

I am abused, and if it please your Mai [...]stie.

Maid.

[...]le play no more.

Lem.

No saith you need not now, you haue plaid your [...] full alreadie

Host.

Stand still good [...], they do but ieast.

Ma [...]a.

Yea, but I like no such ieasting.

Lem.

Come great Queene Fortune, let see your posies, what madam, alas, your ladiship is one of the last.

Coun.

What is my posie sir I pray?

Lem.

Marie Madam your posie is made in maner and forme of an Eccho, as if you were seeking your husbande, and fortune should be the Eccho, and this you say: where is my husband h [...]d so long vn [...]askt, maskt? sayes the Eccho, but in what place sweete Fortune? let me heare: heare sayes the Eccho.

King.

There you lie Eccho, for if he were here we must needes [...]ee him.

Lem.

Indeed sweete King there me thinkes the Eccho must needes I [...]e, if hee were here wee must needes see him, tis one of thē that caries the torches: no that cannot be neither, and yet by the Masse heres Iaques, why my host, did not you tell me that Iaques should be a torchbearer: who is this? Gods my life, my lord.

Mor.

And you be Gentlemen let me go.

Coun.

Nay come your way, you may be well enough ashamed to shew your face that is a periured wretch, did not you sweare, if there were any wenches at the or [...]narie, you yo [...]ld straight come home.

King.

Why, who tolde you Madam, there were any there?

Coun.

He that will stand to it Lemot my l [...]ge.

Lem.

who I stand to it, alas, I tolde you in kindnesse, and good will, because I would not haue you companie long from your husband.

[Page]Mor.

Why loe you bird, how much you are deceiued.

Co.

Why wherefore were you afraid to be seene?

Mor.

Who I afraid? alas I bore a torch to grace this honorable presence, for nothing els sweete bird.

King.

Thanks good Moren, see lady with what wrong you haue pursued your most inamored lord: but come now al are friends, now is this day spent with an hurtfull motiues of delight, and ouer ioyes more my senses at the night: and now for Dowsecer, if all will follow my deuise, his beaut [...]ous loue and he shal married be, and here I solemnly inuite you all home to my court, where with feastes wee will crowne this myrthfull day, and vow it to r [...]nowne.

FINIS.

§

§

[Page]

[Page]

A pleasant Comedy entituled: An Humerous dayes Myrth.

As it hath beene sundrie times publikely acted by the right honourable the Earle of Nottingham Lord high Admirall his seruants.

By G. C.

[figure]

AT LONDON Printed by Ualentine Syms: 1599.

§

§

LONDON

Printed by Valentine Simmes.

1599.

Information about this book

Title statement

A pleasant comedy entituled: An humerous dayes myrth As it hath beene sundrie times publikely acted by the right honourable the Earle of Nottingham Lord high Admirall his seruants. By. G.C.Humorous day's mirth

Chapman, George, 1559?-1634.

Edition statement

1599

Publication

Publisher

Text Creation Partnership,

Place of publication

Ann Arbor, MI ; Oxford (UK) :

Date

2003-01 (EEBO-TCP Phase 1).

ID [DLPS]

A18419

ID [STC]

STC 4987

ID [STC]

ESTC S104936

ID [EEBO-CITATION]

99840666

ID [PROQUEST]

99840666

ID [VID]

5193

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(EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. A18419)

Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 5193)

Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English books, 1475-1640 ; 190:15)

Source

— A pleasant comedy entituled: An humerous dayes myrth As it hath beene sundrie times publikely acted by the right honourable the Earle of Nottingham Lord high Admirall his seruants. By. G.C., Humorous day's mirth, Chapman, George, 1559?-1634..

Extent

[60] p.

Printed by Valentine Syms,. At London :: 1599.. (G.C. = George Chapman.) (Signatures: A-G⁴ H² .) (Running title reads: An humerous dayes mirth.) (Quire H is in two settings; H1v catchword reads (1) "Mor." or (2) "norable".) (Reproduction of the original in the Henry E. Huntington Library and Art Gallery.)

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