Scoena Prima.

MOrrow Brother; Not readie yet?

No; I haue somewhat of the Brother in me; [Page] I dare say, your Wife is many times readie, and you not vp. Saue you sister; how, are you enamoured of my presence? how like you my aspect?

Faith no worse then I did last weeke, the weather has nothing chang'd the graine of your complexion.

A firme proofe, 'tis in graine, and so are not all complexions.

A good Souldiers face Sister.

Made to be worne vnder a Beuer.

I, and 'twould shew well enough vnder a maske too.

So much for the face.

But is there no obiect in this suite to whet your tongue vpon?

None, but Fortune send you well to weare it: for shee best knowes how you got it.

Faith, 'tis the portion shee bestowes vpon yonger Brothers, valour, and good clothes: Marry, if you aske how we come by this new suite, I must take time to answere it: for as the Ballad saies, in written Bookes I find it. Brother these are the blossomes of spirit: and I will haue it said for my Fathers honour, that some of his children were truly begotten.

Not all?

Shall I tell you brother that I know will reioyce you? my former suites haue been all spenders, this shall be a speeder.

A thing to bee heartily wisht; but brother, take heede you be not gull'd, be not too forward.

'T had beene well for me, if you had follow'd that counsaile: You were too forward when you stept into the world before me, and gull'd me of the Land, that my spi­rits and parts were indeede borne too.

May we not haue the blessing to know the aime of your fortunes, what coast, for heauens loue?

Nay, tis a proiect of State: you may see the prepa­ration; but the designe lies hidden in the brests of the wise.

May we not know't?

Not vnlesse you'le promise mee to laugh at it, for without your applause, Ile none.

The qualitie of it may bee such as a laugh will not be ill bestow'd vpon't; pray heauen I call not Arsace sister.

What? the Pandresse?

Know you (as who knowes not) the exquisite La­die of the Palace? The late Gouernours admired Widdow? The rich and haughtie Countesse Eudora? Were not shee a Iewell worth the wearing, if a man knew how to win her?

How's that? how's that?

Brother, there is a certaine Goddesse called Confi­dence, that carries a maine stroke in honourable prefer­ments. Fortune waits vpon her; Cupid is at her becke; shee sends them both of errands. This Deitie doth promise me much assistance in this businesse.

But if this Deitie should draw you vp in a basket to your Countesses window, and there let you hang for all the wits in the Towne to shoot at: how then?

If shee doe, let them shoote their bolts and spare not: I haue a little Bird in a Cage here that sings me better comfort. What should be the barre? you'le say, I was Page to the Count her husband. What of that? I haue there by one foote in her fauour alreadie; Shee has taken note of my spirit, and suruaid my good parts, and the picture of them liues in her eie: which sleepe, I know, can not close, till shee haue embrac't the substance.

All this sauors of the blind Goddesse you speake of.

Why should I despaire, but that Cupid hath one dart in store for her great Ladiship, as well as for any other huge Ladie, whom she hath made stoope Gallant, to kisse their worthie followers. In a word, I am assured of my speede. Such faire attempts led by a braue resolue, are e­uermore seconded by Fortune.

But brother? haue I not heard you say, your own eares haue been witnesse to her vowes, made solemnely to your late Lord; in memorie of him, to preserue till death, [Page] the vnstain'd honour of a Widdowes bed. If nothing else, yet that might coole your confidence.

Tush sister, suppose you should protest with so­lemne oath (as perhaps you haue done, if euer Heauen heares your praiers, that you may liue to see my Brother nobly interred) to feede only vpon fish, and not endure the touch of flesh, during the wretched Lent of your mi­serable life; would you beleeue it Brother?

I am therein most confident.

Indeed, you had better beleeue it then trie it: but pray Sister tell me, you are a woman: doe not you wiues nod your heads, and smile one vpon an other when yee meete abroade?

Smile? why so?

As who should say, are not we mad Wenches, that can lead our blind husbands thus by the noses? do you not brag amongst your selues how grosly you abuse their ho­nest credulities? how they adore you for Saints: and you beleeue it? while you adhorne their temples, and they be­leeue it not? how you vow Widdow-hood in their life time, and they beleeue you, when euen in the sight of their breathlesse corse, ere they be fully cold, you ioine embraces with his Groome, or his Phisition, and perhaps his poiso­ner; or at least by the next Moone (if you can expect so long) solemnely plight new Hymineall bonds, with a wild, confident, vntamed Ruffine?

As for example.

And make him the top of his house, and soueraign Lord of the Palace, as for example. Looke you Brother, this glasse is mine.

What of that?

While I am with it, it takes impression from my face; but can I make it so mine, that it shall bee of no vse to any other? will it not doe his office to you or you: and as well to my Groome as to my selfe? Brother, Monopo­lies are cryed downe. Is it not madnes for me to beleeue, when I haue conquer'd that Fort of chastitie the great [Page] Countesse; that if another man of my making, and mettall, shall assault her: her eies and eares should lose their fun­ction, her other parts their vse, as if Nature had made her all in vaine, vnlesse I only had stumbl'd into her quar­ters.

Brother: I feare mee in your trauaile, you haue drunck too much of that Italian aire, that hath infected the whole masse of your ingenuous Nature; dried vp in you all sap of generous disposition, poisond the very Es­sence of your soule, and so polluted your senses, that what­soeuer enters there, takes from them contagion, and is to your fancie represented as foule and tainted, which in it selfe perhaps is spotlesse.

No sister, it hath refin'd my senses, and made mee see with cleare eies, and to iudge of obiects, as they truly are, not as they seeme, and through their maske to di­scerne the true face of thinges. It tells me how short liu'd Widdowes teares are, that their weeping is in truth but laughing vnder a Maske, that they mourne in their Gownes, and laugh in their Sleeues, all which I be­leeue as a Delphian Oracle: and am resolu'd to burne in that faith. And in that resolution doe I march to the great Ladie.

You lose time Brother in discourse, by this had you bore vp with the Ladie and clapt her aboord, for I knowe your confidence will not dwell long in the ser­uice.

No, I will performe it in the Conquerours stile. Your way is, not to winne Penelope by suite, but by surprise. The Castle's carried by a sodaine assault, that would perhaps sit out a twelue-moneths siege. It would bee a good breeding to my yong Nephew here, if hee could procure a stand at the Palace, to see with what alacritie Ile a-coast her Countesship, in what garbe I will woo her, with what facilitie I will winne her.

It shall goe hard but weele heare your entertaine­ment for your confidence sake.

'TIs miraculous that you tell me Sir: he come to woo our Ladie Mistris for his wife?

'Tis a phrensie he is possest with, and wil not be cur'd but by some violent remedie. And you shall fauour me so much to make me a spectator of the Scene. But is shee (say you) alreadie accessible for Suiters? I thought shee would haue stood so stifly on her Widdow vow, that shee would not endure the sight of a Suiter.

Faith Sir, Penelope could not barre her gates against [Page] her woers, but shee will still be Mistris of her selfe. It is as you know, a certaine Itch in femall bloud, they loue to be su'd to: but sheele hearken to no Suiters.

But by your leaue Lycus, Penelope is not so wise as her husband Vlysses, for he fearing the iawes of the Syren, stopt his eares with waxe against her voice. They that feare the Adders sting, will not come neare her hissing. Is any Suiter with her now?

A Spartan Lord, dating himselfe our great Viceroies Kinsman, and two or three other of his Countrie Lords, as spots in his train. He comes armed with his Altitudes letters in grace of his person, with promise to make her a Du­chesse if shee embrace the match. This is no meane attra­ction to her high thoughts; but yet shee disdaines him.

And how then shall my brother presume of accep­tance? yet I hold it much more vnder her contentment, to marrie such a Nastie braggart, then vnder her honour to wed my brother: A Gentleman (though I sai't) more ho­nourably descended than that Lord: who perhaps, for all his Ancestrie would bee much troubled to name you the place where his Father was borne.

Nay, I hold no comparison betwixt your brother & him. And the Venerean disease, to which they say, he has beene long wedded, shall I hope first rot him, ere shee en­dure the sauour of his Sulphurous breath. Well, her Ladi­ship is at hand; y'are best take you to your stand.

Thankes good friend Lycus.

I Admire Madame, you can not loue whome the Viceroy loues.

And one whose veines swell so with his bloud, Ma­dam, as they doe in his Lordship.

A neare and deare Kinsman his Lordship is to his Altitude, the Viceroy; In care of whose good speede here. I know his Altitude hath not slept a sound sleepe since his departure.

I thanke Venus I haue, euer since he came.

You sleepe away your Honour, Madam, if you ne­glect me.

Neglect your Lordship? that were a negligence no lesse than disloialtie.

I much doubt that Sir, It were rather a presumpti­on to take him, being of the bloud Viceroiall.

Not at all, being offered Madame.

But offered ware is not so sweet you know. They are the graces of the Viceroy that woo me, not your Lord­ships, and I conceiue it should be neither Honor nor Plea­sure to you, to be taken in for an other mans fauours.

Taken in Madam? you speake as I had no house to hide my head in.

I haue heard so indeed, my Lord, vnlesse it be an­other mans.

You haue heard vntruth then; These Lords can well witnesse I can want no houses.

Nor Palaces neither my Lord.

Nor Courts neither.

Nor Temples I thinke neither; I beleeue wee shall haue a God of him.

SEe the bold fellow; whether will you Sir?

[...] way, all honour to you Madam?

How now base companion?

Base Madame: hees not base that fights as high as your lips.

And does that beseeme my seruant?

Your Court-seruant Madam.

One that waited on my boord?

That was only a preparation to my weight on your bed Madam.

How dar'st thou come to me with such a thought?

Come to you Madam? I dare come to you at mid­night, and bid defiance to the proudest spirit that haunts these your loued shadowes; and would any way make terrible the accesse of my loue to you.

Loue me? loue my dogge.

I am bound to that by the prouerb Madam.

Kennell without with him, intrude not here. What is it thou presum'st on?

On your iudgement Madam, to choose a Man, and not a By but, as these are that come with Titles, and Au­thoritie, as they would conquer, or rauish you. But I come to you with the liberall and ingenuous Graces, Loue, Youth, and Gentrie; which (in no more deform'd a per­son then my selfe) deserue any Princesse.

In your sawcie opinion Sir, and sirha too; get gone; and let this malipert humour returne thee no more, for a­fore heauen Ile haue thee tost in blanquets.

In blanquets Madam, you must adde your sheetes, and you must be the Toffer.

Nay then Sir y'are as grosse as you are sawcie.

And all one Sir, for I am neither.

Thou art both.

Thou liest; keepe vp your smiter Lord Rebus.

Vsest thou thus his Altitudes Cosen?

The place thou know'st protects thee.

Tie vp your valour then till an other place turne me loose to you, you are the Lord (I take it) that wooed my great Mistris here with letters from his Altitude; which while she was reading, your Lordship (to entertaine time) strodl'd and skal'd your fingers; as you would shew what an itching desire you had to get betwixt her sheetes.

Slight, why does your Lordship endure him?

The place, the place my Lord.

Be you his Attorney Sir.

What would you doe Sir?

Make thee leape out at window, at which thou cam'st in: Whores-sonne bag-pipe Lords.

What rudenesse is this?

What tamenesse is it in you Madam, to sticke at the discarding of such a suiter? A leane Lord, dub'd with the lard of others? A diseased Lord too, that opening certaine Magick Characters in an vnlawfull booke, vp-start as ma­ny aches in's bones, as there are ouches in's skinne. Send him (Mistris) to the Widdow your Tennant; the vertuous Pandresse Arsace. I perceiue he has crownes in's Purse, that make him proud of a string; let her pluck the Goose therefore, and her maides dresse him.

Still my Lord suffer him?

The place Sir, beleeue it the place.

O good Lord Rebus; The place is neuer like to be yours that you neede respect it so much.

Thou wrong'st the noble Gentleman.

Noble Gentleman? A tumor, an impostume hee is Madam; a very hault-boy, a bag-pipe; in whom there is nothing but winde, and that none of the sweetest nei­ther.

Quitt the House of him by 'thead and Soul­ders.

Thankes to your Honour Madame, and my Lord Cosen the Viceroy shall thanke you.

So shall he indeede sir.

Will you be gone sir?

Away poore Fellowes.

If he shall dare to come againe, I charge you shut dores vpon him.

Afore Heauen, not a Guard (ant please your Honour.)

This brauing wooer, hath the successe expected; The fauour I obtain'd, made me witnesse to the sport; And let his Confidence bee sure, Ile giue it him home. The newes by this, is blowne through the foure quarters of the Cittie. Alas good Confidence: but the happinesse is he has a forehead of proofe; the staine shall neuer stick there whatsoeuer his reproch be.

What meanes your Lordship then to hang that head that hath beene so erected; it knocks Sir at your bo­some to come in and hide it selfe.

Not a iot.

I hope by this time it needes feare no hornes.

Well Sir, but yet that blessing runs not alwaies in a bloud.

What blanqueted? O the Gods! spurn'd out by Groomes like a base Bisogno? thrust out by'th head and shoulders?

You doe well Sir to take your pleasure of me, (I may turne tables with you ere long.)

What has thy wits fine engine taken cold? art stuff't inth head? canst answere nothing?

Truth is, I tooke my entertainment the better that 'twas no better.

Now the Gods forbid that this opinion should run in a bloud.

Haue not you heard this principle, All thinges by strife engender.

Dogges and Cats doe.

And men and women too.

Well Brother, in earnest, you haue now set your confidence to schoole, from whence I hope 't has brought home such a lesson as will instruct his master neuer after to begin such attempts as end in laughter.

What Sir, you lesson my Confidence still; I pray heauens your confidence haue not more shallow ground (for that I know) then mine you reprehend so.

My confidence? in what?

May be you trust too much.

Wherein?

In humane frailtie.

Why brother know you ought that may impeach my confidence, as this successe may yours? hath your ob­seruation discouered any such frailtie in my wife (for that is your aime I know) then let me know it.

Good, good. Nay Brother, I write no bookes of Obseruations, let your confidence beare out it selfe, as mine shall me.

That's scarce a Brothers speech. If there be ought wherein your Brothers good might any way be question'd can you conceale it from his bosome?

So, so. Nay my saying was but generall. I glanc't at no particular.

Then must I presse you further. You spake (as to your selfe, but yet I ouer-heard) as if you knew some dispo­sition of weaknesse where I most had fixt my trust. I chal­lenge you to let me know what t'was.

Brother? are you wise?

Why?

Be ignorant. Did you neuer heare of Actaeon?

What then?

Curiositie was his death. He could not be content to adore Diana in her Temple, but he must needes dogge her to her retir'd pleasures, and see her in her nakednesse. Doe you enioy the sole priuiledge of your wiues bed? haue you no pretie Paris for your Page? No mysticall Adonis to front you there?

I thinke none: I know not.

Know not still Brother. Ignorance and credulitie are your sole meanes to obtaine that blessing. You see your greatest Clerkes, your wisest Politicians, are not that way fortunate, your learned Lawyers would lose a dozen poore mens causes to gaine a lease ant, but for a Terme. Your Phisition is ielous of his. Your Sages in generall, by seeing too much ouersee that happinesse. Only your block-headly Tradesman; your honest meaning Cittizen; your not-headed [Page] Countrie Gentleman; your vnapprehending Stinckerd is blest with the sole prerogatiue of his Wiues chamber. For which he is yet beholding, not to his starres, but to his ignorance. For if he be wise, Brother, I must tell you the case alters.

How doe you relish these thinges Brother?

Passing ill.

So do sick men solid meates: hearke you brother, are you not ielous?

No: doe you know cause to make me?

Hold you there; did your wife neuer spice your broth with a dramme of sublimate? hath shee not yeelded vp the Fort of her Honour to a staring Soldado? and (ta­king courage from her guilt) plaid open banckrout of all shame, and runne the Countrie with him? Then blesse your Starres, bow your knees to Iuno. Looke where shee appeares.

We haue sought you long Sir, there's a Mes­senger within, hath brought you letters from the Court, and desires your speech.

I can discouer nothing in her lookes. Goe, Ile not be long.

Sir, it is of weight the bearer saies: and besides, much hastens his departure. Honourable Brother! crie mercie! what, in a Conquerours stile? but come and ouer­come?

A fresh course.

Alas you see of how sleight mettall Widdowes vowes are made.

And that shall you proue too ere long.

Yet for the honour of our sexe, boast not abroade this your easie conquest; another might perhaps haue staid longer below staires, but vpon your confidence, that sur­pris'd her loue.

My vncle hath instructed me how to accoast an ho­norable Ladie; to win her, not by suite, but by surprise.

The Whelp and all.

Good Vncle let not your neare Honours change your manners, bee not forgetfull of your promise to mee, touching your Ladies daughter Laodice. My fancie runns so vpon't, that I dreame euery night of her.

A good chicken, goe thy waies, thou hast done well; eate bread with thy meate.

Come Sir, will you in?

Ile follow you.

Ile not stirre a foot without you. I can not satisfie the messengers impatience.

Wil you not resolue me brother?

Of what?

So, there's venie for venie, I haue giuen't him 'ith place speeding for all his confidence. Well out of this per­haps there may bee moulded matter of more mirth, then my baffling. It shall goe hard but Ile make my constant sister act as famous a Scene as Virgil did his Mi­stris; who caus'd all the Fire in Rome to faile so; that none could light a torch but at her nose. Nowforth: At this house dwells a vertuous Dame, sometimes of worthy Fame, now like a decai'd Merchant turn'd Broker, and retailes refuse commodities for vnthriftie Gallants. Her wit I must im­ploy vpon this businesse to prepare my next encounter, but in such a fashion as shall make all split. Ho? Madam Ar­sace? pray heauen the Oister-wiues haue not brought the newes of my woing hether amongst their stale Pilcherds.

WHat? my Lord of the Palace?

Looke you.

Why, this was done like a beaten Souldier.

Hearke, I must speake with you. I haue a share for you in this riche aduenture. You must [Page] bee the Asse chardg'd with Crownes to make way to the Fort, and I the Conquerour to follow, and seise it. Seest thou this iewell?

Is't come to that? why Tomasin.

Madam.

Did not one of the Countesses Seruing-men tell vs that this Gentleman was sped?

That he did, and how her honour grac't and enter­tained him in very familiar manner.

And brought him downe staires her selfe.

I forsooth, and commanded her men to beare him out of dores.

Slight, pelted with rotten egges?

Nay more, that he had alreadie possest her sheetes.

No indeede Mistris, twas her blanquets.

Out you yong hedge-sparrow, learne to tread a­fore you be fledge.

You now, in your shallow pate, thinke this a dis­grace to mee, such a disgrace as is a batterd helmet on a souldiers head, it doubles his resolution. Say, shall I vse thee?

Vse me?

O holy reformation! how art thou fallen downe from the vpper-bodies of the Church to the skirts of the Citie! honestie is stript out of his true substance into ver­ball nicetie. Common sinners startle at common termes, and they that by whole mountaines swallow downe the deedes of darknesse; A poore mote of a familiar word, makes them turne vp the white o'th eie. Thou art the La­dies Tennant.

For terme Sir.

A good induction, be successefull for me, make me Lord of the Palace, and thou shalt hold thy Tenement to thee and thine eares for euer, in free smockage, as of the manner of Panderage, prouided alwaies.

Nay if you take me vnprouided.

Prouided I say, that thou mak'st thy repaire to her presently with a plot I will instruct thee in; and for thy su­rer accesse to her greatnesse, thou shalt present her, as from thy selfe with this iewell.

So her old grudge, stand not betwixt her and me.

Scoena Prima.

SO now we are our selues. Brother, that ill relisht speech you let slip from your tongue, hath taken so deepe hold of my thoughts, that they will neuer giue me rest, till I be re­solu'd what 'twas you said, you know, touching my wife.

Tush: I am wearie of this subiect, I said not so.

By truth it selfe you did: I ouer-heard you. Come, it shall nothing moue me, whatsoeuer it be; pray thee vn­fold briefly what you know.

Why briefly Brother. I know my sister to be the wonder of the Earth; and the Enuie of the Heauens. Ver­tuous, Loiall, and what not. Briefly, I know shee hath vow'd, that till death and after death, sheele hold inuiolate her bonds to you, & that her black shal take no other hew; all which I firmely beleeue. In briefe Brother, I know her to be a woman. But you know brother, I haue other yrons on th'anuile.

You shall not leaue mee so vnsatisfied; tell mee [Page] what tis you know.

Why Brother; if you be sure of your wiues loialtie for terme of life: why should you be curious to search the Almanacks for after-times: whether some wandring Ae­neas should enioy your reuersion; or whether your true Turtle would sit mourning on a wither'd branch, till A­tropos cut her throat: Beware of curiositie, for who can re­solue you? youle say perhaps her vow.

Perhaps I shall.

Tush, her selfe knowes not what shee shall doe, when shee is transform'd into a Widdow. You are now a sober and staid Gentleman. But if Diana for your curiosi­tie should translate you into a monckey; doe you know what gambolds you should play? your only way to bee re­solu'd is to die and make triall of her.

A deare experiment, then I must rise againe to bee resolu'd.

You shall not neede. I can send you speedier ad­uertisement of her constancie, by the next Ripier that rides that way with Mackerell. And so I leaue you.

WElcome friend Lycus.

Haue you met with your capricious brother?

He parted hence but now.

And has he yet resolu'd you of that point you brake with me about?

Yes, he bids me die for further triall of her constan­cie.

That were a strange Phisicke for a iealous patient; to cure his thirst with a draught of poison. Faith Sir, dis­charge your thoughts an't; thinke 'twas but a Buzz deuis'd by him to set your braines a work, and diuert your eie from his disgrace. The world hath written your wife in highest lines of honour'd Fame: her vertues so admir'd in this Ile, as the report thereof sounds in forraigne eares; and stran­gers oft arriuing here, (as some rare sight) desire to view her presence, thereby to compare the Picture with the ori­ginall. Nor thinke he can turne so farre rebell to his bloud▪

PAssion of Virginitie, Ianthe, how shall we quit our selues of this Pandresse, that is so importu­nate to speake with vs? Is shee knowne to be a Pandresse?

I, as well as we are knowne to be waiting women.

A shrew take your comparison.

Lets cal out Argus that bold Asse that neuer weighs what he does or saies; but walkes and talkes like one in a sleepe; to relate her attendance to my Ladie, and present her.

WHats the matter Wenches?

You must tell my Ladie here's a Gentle-wo­man call'd Arsace, her Honours Tennant, attends her, to impart important businesse to her.

I will presently.

Well, shee has a welcome present, to beare out her vnwelcome presence: and I neuer knew but a good gift would welcome a bad person to the purest. Arsace?

I Mistris.

Giue me your Present; Ile doe all I can, to make way both for it and your selfe.

You shall binde me to your seruice Ladie.

Stand vnseene.

The Bawd Madam? shee strikes, that's without my priuitie.

Out Asse, know'st not thou the Pandresse Arsace?

Shee present your Honour with this Iewell?

Alas for your great Rent: Ile keepe her iewell, and keepe you her out, yee were best: speake to me for a Pan­dresse?

What shall we doe?

Goe to; Let vs alone. Arsace?

I Ladie.

You must pardon vs, we can not obtaine your ac­cesse.

Mistris Sthenio, tell her Honour, if I get not ac­cesse to her, and that instantly shee's vndone.

This is some-thing of importance. Madam, shee sweares your Honour is vndone if she speake not with you instantly.

Vndone?

Pray her for her Honours sake to giue mee instant accesse to her.

Shee makes her businesse your Honour Madame, and entreates for the good of that, her instant speech with you.

How comes my Honour in question? Bring her to mee.

OVr Cypriane Goddesse saue your good Honor.

Stand you off I pray: How dare you Mistris importune accesse to me thus, considering the last warning I gaue for your absence?

Because, Madam, I haue been mou'd by your Ho­nours last most chast admonition, to leaue the offensiue life. [Page] I led before.

I? haue you left it then?

I, I assure your Honour, vnlesse it be for the pleasure of two or three poore Ladies, that haue prodigall Knights to their husbands.

Out on thee Impudent.

Alas Madam, wee would all bee glad to liue in our callings.

Is this the reform'd life thou talk'st on?

I beseech your good Honour mistake me not, I boast of nothing but my charitie, that's the worst.

You get these iewels with charitie, no doubt. But whats the point in which my Honour stands endanger'd I pray?

In care of that Madam, I haue presum'd to offend your chasteies with my presence. Hearing it reported for truth and generally, that your Honor will take to husband a yong Gentleman of this Citie called Tharsalio.

I take him to husband?

If your Honour does, you are vtterly vndone, for hee's the most incontinent, and insatiate Man of Wo­men that euer VENVS blest with abilitie to please them.

Let him be the Deuill; I abhorre his thought, and could I be inform'd particularly of any of these slanderers of mine Honour, he should as dearely dare it, as any thing wherein his life were endanger'd.

Madam, the report of it is so strongly confident, that I feare the strong destinie of marriage is at worke in it. But if it bee Madam: Let your Honours knowne vertue resist and defie it for him: for not a hundred will serue his one turne. I protest to your Honour, When (VE­NVS pardon mee) I winckt at my vnmaidenly exer­cise. I haue knowne nine in a Night made mad with his loue.

What tell'st thou mee of his loue? I tell thee I ab­horre him; and destinie must haue an other mould [Page] for my thoughts, then Nature or mine Honour, and a Witchcraft aboue both, to transforme mee to an­other shape, as soone as to an other conceipt of him.

Then is your good Honour iust as I pray for you, and good Madam, euen for your vertues sake, and com­fort of all your Dignities, and Possessions; fixe your whole Woman-hood against him. Hee will so inchant you, as neuer man did woman: Nay a Goddesse (say his light huswiues) is not worthie of his sweetnesse.

Goe to, be gone.

Deare Madam, your Honours most perfect admo­nitions haue brought mee to such a hate of these imperfe­ctions, that I could not but attend you with my dutie, and vrge his vnreasonable manhood to the fill.

Man-hood, quoth you?

Nay Beastly-hood, I might say, indeede Ma­dam, but for sauing your Honour; Nine in a night said I?

Goe to, no more.

No more Madame? that's enough one would thinke.

Well be gone I bid thee.

Alas Madam, your Honour is the chiefe of our Ci­tie, and to whom shall I complaine of these inchastities, (being your Ladiships reform'd Tennant) but to you that are chastest?

I pray thee goe thy waies, and let me see this refor­mation you pretend continued.

I humbly thanke your good Honour, that was first cause of it.

Here's a complaint as strange as my Suiter.

I beseech your good Honour thinke vpon him, make him an example.

Yet againe?

All my dutie to your Excellence.

These sorts of licentious persons, when they are [Page] once reclaim'd, are most vehement against licence. But it is the course of the world to dispraise faults & vse them; that so we may vse them the safer. What might a wise Widdow resolue vpon this point now? Contentment is the end of all wordly beings: Beshrow her; would shee had spared her newes.

See if shee take not a contrarie way to free her selfe of vs.

You must complaine to his Altitude.

HAst thou beene admitted then?

Admitted? I, into her heart, Ile able it; neuer was man so prais'd with a dispraise; nor so spoken for in being rail'd on. Ile giue you my word; I haue set her hart vpon as tickle a pin as the needle of a Diall; that will neuer let it rest, till it be in the right position.

Why dost thou imagine this?

Because I saw Cupid shoot in my wordes, and open his wounds in her lookes. Her bloud went and came of errands betwixt her face and her heart; and these changes I can tell you are shrewd tell-tales.

Thou speak'st like a Doctrisse in thy facultie; but howsoeuer, for all this foile, Ile retriue the game once a­gaine, hee's a shallow gamster that for one displeasing cast giues vp so faire a game for lost.

Well, 'twas a villanous inuention of thine, and had a swift operation, it tooke like sulphure. And yet this ver­tuous Countesse hath to my eare spun out many a tedious lecture of pure sisters thred against concupiscence. But e­uer with such an affected zeale, as my minde gaue me, shee had a kinde of secret titillation to grace my poore house sometimes; but that shee fear'd a spice of the Sciatica, which as you know euer runs in the bloud.

And as you know, sokes into the bones. But to say truth, these angrie heates that breake out at the lips of these streight lac't Ladies, are but as symptoms of a lustfull feuer that boiles within them. For wherefore rage wiues at their husbands so, when they flie out, for zeale against the sinne?

No, but because they did not purge that sinne.

Th'art a notable Syren, and I sweare to thee, if I prosper, not only to giue thee thy mannor-house gratis, but to marrie thee to some one Knight or other, and burie thy trade in thy Ladiship: Goe be gone.

WHat newes Lycus? where's the Ladie?

Retir'd into her Orchard.

A pregnant badge of loue, shee's melancholy.

'Tis with the sight of her Spartane wooer. But how­soeuer tis with her, you haue practis'd strangely vpon your Brother.

Why so?

You had almost lifted his wit off the hinges. That sparke ielousie falling into his drie melancholy braines, had well neare set the whole house on fire.

No matter, let it worke; I did but pay him in's owne coine; Sfoot hee plied me with such a volley of vn­season'd scoffs, as would haue made Patience it selfe turne Ruffine, attiring it selfe in wounds and bloud: but is his humour better qualified then?

Yes, but with a medicine ten parts more dangerous then the sicknesse: how know you strange his dotage euer was on his wife; taking speciall glorie to haue her loue and loialtie to him so renowm'd abrode. To whom shee often­times hath vow'd constancie after life, till her owne death had brought forsooth, her widdow-troth to bed. This he ioi'd in strangely, and was therein of infallible beliefe, till your surmise began to shake it; which hath loos'd it so, as now there's nought can settle it, but a triall, which hee's resolu'd vpon.

As how man? as how?

Hee is resolu'd to follow your aduise, to die, and make triall of her stablenesse, and you must lend your hand to it.

What to cut's throat?

To forge a rumour of his death, to vphold it by cir­cumstance, maintaine a publike face of mourning, and all thinges appertaining.

I, but the meanes man: what time? what probabi­litie.

Nay, I thinke he has not lickt his Whelpe into full shape yet, but you shall shortly heare ant.

And when shall this strange conception see light?

Forthwith: there's nothing staies him, but some odde businesse of import, which hee must winde vp; least perhaps his absence by occasion of his intended triall bee prolonged aboue his aimes.

Thankes for this newes i' faith. This may perhaps proue happie to my Nephew. Truth is I loue my sister well and must acknowledge her more then ordinarie vertues. But shee hath so possest my brothers heart with vowes, and disauowings, seal'd with oathes of second nuptialls; as in that confidence, hee hath inuested her in all his state, the ancient inheritance of our Familie: and left my Nephew and the rest to hang vpon her pure deuotion; so as he dead, and shee matching (as I am resolu'd shee will) with some yong Prodigall; what must ensue, but her post-issue beg­gerd, and our house alreadie sinking, buried quick in ruin. But this triall may remoue it, and since tis come to this; marke but the issue Lycus, for all these solemne vowes, if I doe not make her proue in the handling as weake as a wa­fer; say I lost my time in trauaile. This resolution then has set his wits in ioynt againe, hee's quiet.

Yes, and talkes of you againe in the fairest manner, listens after your speede.

Nay hee's passing kinde, but I am glad of this triall for all that.

Which he thinkes to be a flight beyond your wing.

But hee will change that thought ere long. My Bird you saw euen now, sings me good newes, and makes hopefull signes to me.

Somewhat can I say too, since your messengers de­parture, her Ladiship hath beene something alter'd, more pensiue then before, and tooke occasion to question of you, what your addictions were? of what tast your humor was? of what cut you wore your wit, and all this in a kind of disdainefull scorne.

Good Callenders Lycus. Well Ile pawne this ie­well with thee, my next encounter shall quite alter my bro­thers iudgement. Come lets in, he shall commend it for a discreet and honourable attempt.

And my meanes.

I Must confesse I was ignorant, what 'twas to court a Ladie till now.

And I pray you what is it now?

To court her I perceiue, is to woo her with letters from Court, for so this Spartane Lords Court discipline teacheth.

His Lordship hath procur'd a new Pacquet from his Altitude.

If he bring no better ware then letters in's pacquet, I shall greatly doubt of his good speede.

If his Lordship did but know how gracious his A­spect is to my Ladie in this solitarie humour.

Well these retir'd walkes of hers are not vsuall; and bode some alteration in her thoughts. What may bee the cause Sthenio.

Nay twould trouble Argus with his hundred eies to descrie the cause.

Venus keepe her vpright, that shee fall not from [Page] the state of her honour; my feare is that some of these Ser­pentine suiters will tempt her from her constant vow of widdow-hood. If they doe, good night to our good daies.

'Twere a sinne to suspect her; I haue been witnesse to so many of her fearfull protestations to our late Lord a­gainst that course, to her infinite oathes imprinted on his lips, and seal'd in his heart with such imprecations to her bed, if euer it should receiue a second impression, to her o­pen and often detestations of that incestuous life (as shee term'd it) of widdowes marriages, as being but a kinde of lawfull adulterie; like vsurie permitted by the law, not ap­prou'd. That to wed a second, was no better then to cuc­kold the first: That women should entertaine wedlock as one bodie, as one life, beyond which there were no desire, no thought, no repentance from it, no restitution to it. So as if the conscience of her vowes should not restraine her, yet the worlds shame to breake such a constant resolution, should represse any such motion in her.

Well, for her vowes, they are gone to heauen with her husband, they binde not vpon earth: And as for Wo­mens resolutions, I must tell you, The Planets, & (as Ptolo­mie saies) the windes haue a great stroke in them. Trust not my learning if her late strangenesse, and exorbitant solitude, be not hatching some new Monster.

Well applied Argus; Make you husbands Mon­sters?

I spoke of no husbands, but you Wenches haue the pregnant wits, to turne Monsters into husbands, as you turne husbands into monsters.

Well Ianthe, 'twere high time we made in, to part our Ladie and her Spartane wooer.

We shall appeare to her like the two fortunate Stars in a tempest, to saue the shipwrack of her patience.

I, and to him to, I beleeue; For by this time he hath spent the last dramme of his newes.

That is, of his wit.

Iust good wittals.

If not, that my Ladie be not. [Page] too deep in her new dumps, we shall heare from his Lord­ship; what such a Lord said of his wife the first night hee embrac't her: To what Gentleman such a Count was be­holding for his fiue children. What yong Ladie, such an old Count should marrie; what Reuells: what present­ments are towards; and who penn'd the Pegmas; and so forth: and yet for all this, I know her harsh Suiter hath tir'd her to the vttermost scruple of her forbearances, and will doe more, vnlesse we two, like a paire of Sheres, cut a-sun­der the thred of his discourse.

Well then, lets in; But my masters, waite you on your charge at your perils, See that you guard her approch from any more intruders.

Excepting yong Tharsalio.

True, excepting him indeede, for a guard of men is not able to keepe him out ant please your Honour.

O Wenches, that's the propertie of true valour, to promise like Pigmey, and performe like a Giant. If hee come, Ile bee sworne Ile doe my Ladies commandement vpon him.

What? beate him out?

If hee should, Tharsalio would not take it ill at his handes, for he does but his Ladies commandement.

WEll, by Hercules he comes not here.

By Venus but hee does: or else shee hath heard my Ladies praiers, and sent some gracious spirit in his likenesse to fright away that Spartane wooer, that hants her.

There stand her Sentinells.

Slight the Ghost appeares againe.

Saue yee my quondam fellowes in Armes; saue yee; my women.

Your Women Sir?

'Twill be so. What no courtesies? No preparation of grace? obserue me I aduise you for your owne sakes.

For your owne sake, I aduise you to pack hence, lest [Page] your impudent valour cost you dearer then you thinke.

What senselesse boldnesse is this Tharsalio?

Well said Clinias, talke to him.

I wonder that notwithstanding the shame of your last entertainment, and threatnings of worse; you would yet presume to trouble this place againe.

Come y'are a widgine; Off with your hat Sir, ac­knowledge: forecast is better then labour. Are you squint ey'd? can you not see afore you. A little foresight I can tell you might sted you much as the Starres shine now.

'Tis well sir, tis not for nothing your brother is a­sham'd on you. But Sir, you must know, wee are chardg'd to barre your entrance.

But Wifler, know you, that who so shall dare to execute that charge, Ile be his Executioner.

By Ioue, Clinias, me thinks, the Gentleman speakes very honourably.

Well I see this house needes reformation, here's a fellow stands behind now, of a forwarder insight then yee all. What place hast thou?

What place you please Sir.

Law you Sir. Here's a fellow to make a Gentle­man Vsher Sir, I discharge you of the place, and doe here inuest thee into his roome, Make much of thy haire, thy wit will suit it rarely. And for the full possession of thine of­fice; Come, Vsher me to thy Ladie: and to keep thy hand supple, take this from me.

No bribes Sir, ant please your Worship.

Goe to, thou dost well; but pocket it for all that; it's no impaire to thee: the greatest doo't.

Sir, tis your loue only that I respect, but since out of your loue you please to bestow it vpon me, It were want of Courtship in mee to refuse it; Ile acquaint my Ladie with your comming.

How say by this? haue not I made a fit choise, that hath so soone attain'd the deepest mysterie of his pro­fession: Good sooth Wenches, a few courtsies had not [Page] beene cast away vpon your new Lord.

Weele beleeue that, when our Ladie has a new Sonne of your getting.

WHats the matter? whose that, you say, is come?

The bold Gentleman, ant please your Honour.

Why thou flering Asse thou.

Ant please your Honour.

Did not I forbid his approch by all the charge and dutie of thy seruice?

Madam, this fellow only is intelligent; for he tru­ly vnderstood your command according to the stile of the Court of Venus; that is, by contraries: when you forbid you bid.

By heauen Ile discharge my house of yee all.

You shall not neede Madame, for I haue alreadie casheer'd your officious Vsher here, and chos'd this for his Successor.

O incredible boldnesse!

Madam, I come not to command your loue with enforst letters, nor to woo you with tedious stories of my Pedigree, as hee who drawes the thred of his descent from Ledas Distaffe; when 'tis well knowne his Grandsire cried Coniskins in Sparta.

Whom meane you Sir?

Sir, I name none, but him who first shall name himselfe.

The place Sir, I tell you still; and this Goddesses faire presence, or else my reply should take a farre other forme vpon't.

If it should Sir, I would make your Lordship an anser.

Anser's Latine for a Goose, ant please your honor.

Well noted Gander; and what of that?

Nothing, ant please your Honor, but that he said he [Page] would make his Lordship an answere.

Thus euery foole mocks my poore Suiter. Tell mee thou most frontlesse of all me, did'st thou (when thou had'st meanes to note me best) euer obserue so base a tem­per in mee, as to giue any glance at stooping to my Vas­sall?

Your drudge Madam, to doe your drudgerie.

Or am I now so skant of worthie Suiters, that may aduance mine honour; aduance my estate; strengthen my alliance (if I list to wed) that I must stoop to make my foot my head.

No but your side, to keepe you warme a bed. But Madame vouchsafe me your patience to that points serious answere. Though I confesse to get higher place in your graces, I could wish my fortunes more honourable; my person more gratious; my minde more adorn'd with No­ble and Heroicall vertues, yet Madame (that you thinke not your bloud disparadg'd by mixture with mine) daine to know this: howsoeuer I once, only for your loue, dis­guis'd my selfe in the seruice of your late Lord and mine, yet my descent is as honourable as the proudest of your Spartane attempters; who by vnknown quills or conduits vnder ground, drawes his Pedigree from Lycurgus his great Toe, to the Viceroies little finger, and from thence to his owne elbow, where it will neuer leaue itching.

Tis well Sir, presume still of the place.

Sfoot Madame, am I the first great personage that hath stoopt to disguises for loue? what thinke you of our Countrie-man Hercules; that for loue put on Omphales Apron, and sate spinning amongst her Wenches, while his Mistris wore his Lyons skin and Lamb-skin'd him, if he did not his businesse.

Most fitly thou resembl'st thy selfe to that violent Atlas, that claim'd all other mens possessions as his owne by his meere valour. For what lesse hast thou done? Come into my house, beate away these Honourable persons?

That I will Madam. Hence yee Sparta Veluet.

Hold, shee did not meane so.

Away I say, or leaue your liues I protest here.

Well Sir, his Altitude shall know you.

Ile doe your errand Sir.

Doe good Cosen Altitude; and beg the reuersion of the next Ladie: for Dido has betrotht her loue to me. By this faire hand Madam, a faire riddance of this Calidonian Bore.

O most prodigious audaciousnesse!

True Madam; O fie vpon am, they are intollerable. And I can not but admire your singular vertue of patience, not common in your sexe; and must therefore carrie with it some rare indowment of other Masculine and Heroicall vertues. To heare á rude Spartane court so ingenuous a Ladie, with dull newes from Athens, or the Vicerois court; how many dogs were spoil'd at the last Bull-baiting; what Ladies dub'd their husbands Knights, and so forth.

But hast thou no shame? No sense of what disdain I shew'd thee in my last entertainment? chacing thee from my presence, and charging thy dutie, not to attempt the like intrusion for thy life; and dar'st thou yet approch mee in this vnmannerly manner? No question this desperate boldnesse can not choose but goe accompanied with other infinite rudenesses.

Good Madam, giue not the Child an vnfit name, terme it not boldnes, which the Sages call true confidence, founded on the most infallible Rocke of a womans con­stancie.

If shame can not restraine thee, tell mee yet if any brainlesse foole would haue tempted the danger attending thy approch.

No Madam, that proues I am no Foole: Then had I been here a Foole, and a base low-sprited Spartan, if for a Ladies froune, or a Lords threates, or for a Guard of Groomes, I should haue shrunke in the wetting, and suf­fer'd such a delicious flower to perish in the stalke, or to be sauadgely pluckt by a prophane finger. No Madam: First [Page] let me be made a Subiect for disgrace; let your remorselesse Guard seaze on my despised bodie, bind me hand and foot, and hurle me into your Ladiships bed.

O Gods: I protest thou dost more and more make me admire thee.

Madam, ignorance is the mother of admiration: know me better, and youle admire me lesse.

What would'st thou haue mee know? what seekes thy comming? why dost thou hant me thus?

Only Madam, that the Aetna of my sighes, and Ni­lus of my teares, pour'd forth in your presence, might wit­nesse to your Honor the hot and moist affection of my hart, and worke me some measure of fauour, from your sweete tongue, or your sweeter lips, or what else your good Ladi­ship shall esteeme more conducible, to your diuine con­tentment.

Pen and Inck-horne I thanke thee. This you learn'd when you were a Seruing-man.

Madam, I am still the same creature; and I will so tie my whole fortunes to that stile, as were it my happinesse (as I know it will be) to mount into my Lords succession, yet vow I neuer to assume other Title, or State, then your seruants: Not approching your boord, but bidden: Not pressing to your bed, but your pleasure shall be first known if you will command me any seruice.

Thy vowes are as vaine as a Ruffins othes; as com­mon as the aire; and as cheape as the dust. How many of the light huswiues, thy Muses, hath thy loue promist this seruice besides, I pray thee?

Compare shadowes to bodies, Madam; Pictures to the life; and such are they to you, in my valuation.

I see wordes will neuer free me of thy boldnesse, and will therefore now vse blowes; and those of the mor­tallest enforcement. Let it suffice Sir, that all this time, and to this place, you enioy your safetie; keepe backe: No one foote follow mee further; for I protest to thee, the next threshold past, lets passe a prepar'd Ambush to thy latest [Page] breath.

This for your Ambush, He drawes. Dare my loue with death?

Slight; follow ant please your Honour.

Not I by this light.

I hope Gentle-women you will.

Not we Sir, we are no parters of fraies.

Faith nor Ile be any breaker of customes.

Scoena Prima.

WOuld any heart of Adamant, for satisfa­ction of an vngrounded humour, racke a poore Ladies innocencie as you intend to doe. It was a strange curiositie in that Emperour, that ript his Mothers wombe to see the place he lay in.

Come do not lode me with volumes of perswasion; I am resolu'd, if shee be gold shee may abide the tast, lets away, I wonder where this wild brother is.

SIr.

I pray thee wife shew but thy selfe a woman; and be silent: question no more the reason of my iourney, which our great Viceroies charge vrg'd in this letter doth enforce me to.

Let me but see that letter, there is somthing in this presaging bloud of mine, tells me this sodaine iourney can portend no good, resolue me sweet, haue not I giuen you cause of discontent, by some misprision, or want of fit ob­seruance, let mee know that I may wreake my selfe vpon my selfe.

[Page]of art to couer your buske points; which a blunt and resolute encounter, taken vnder a fortunate aspect, easily disarmes you off; and then alas what are you? poore na­ked sinners, God wot: weake paper walls thrust downe with a finger; this is the way on't, boile their appetites to a full height of lust; and then take them downe in the nicke.

Is there probabilitie in this; that a Ladie so great, so vertuous, standing on so high termes of honour, should so soone stoope?

You would not wonder sister, if you knew the lure shee stoo'pt at: greatnesse? thinke you that can curb affe­ction; no, it whets it more; they haue the full streame of bloud, to beare them: the sweet gale of their sublim'd spi­rits to driue them: the calme of ease to prepare them: the sun-shine of fortune to allure them: Greatnesse to waft them safe through all Rocks of infamie: when youth, wit, and person come aboord once, tell me sister, can you chuse but hoise saile, and put forward to the maine?

But let me wonder at this frailtie yet; would shee in so short time weare out his memorie, so soon wipe from her eies, nay, from her heart, whom I my selfe, and this whole Ile besides, still remember with griefe, the impres­sion of his losse taking worthily such roote in vs; howe thinke you Wife?

In so short time.

In any time.

No wife.

By Iuno no; sooner a lothsom Tode.

High words beleeue me, and I thinke sheele keep them; next turne is yours Nephew; you shall now marrie my noblest Ladie-Daughter; the first marriage in Paphos; next my nuptialls shall be yours; these are strange occur­rents [Page] brother, but pretie and patheticall: if you see mee in my chaire of Honour; and my Countesse in mine armes; you will then beleeue, I hope, I am Lord of the Palace, then shall you trie my great Ladies entertainement; see your handes free'd of mee, and mine taking you to ad­uancement.

Well, all this rids not my businesse; wife you shall bee there to partake the vnexpected honour of our House. Lycus, and I will make it our recreation by the way, to thinke of your Reuells and Nuptiall sports; Brother my stay hath beene for you; Wife pray thee bee gone, and soone prepare for the solemnitie, a Moneth returnes mee.

Heauens guide your iourney.

Fare-will.

Fare-well Nephew; prosper [...] virilitie, but doe you heare; keepe your hand from your voice, I haue a part for you in our Hymencall shew.

You speake too late for my voice, but Ile discharge the part.

Occurrents call yee them; soule shame confound them all; that impregnable Fort of chastitie and loyaltie, that amazement of the world; O yee Deities could no­thing restraine her? I tooke her spirit to bee too haughtie for such a depression.

But who commonly more short heeld; then they that are high 'ith in-step.

Mee thinkes yet shame should haue controul'd so sodaine an appetite.

And to say truth Brother; what shame is due to't? or what congruence doth it carrie, that a yong Ladie, Gallant, Vigorous, full of Spirit, and Complexion; her appetite newe whetted with Nuptiall delights; [Page] to be confind to the speculation of a deaths head, or for the losse of a husband, the world affording flesh enough, make the noone-tide of her yeares, the sunne-set of her plea­sures.

And yet there haue been such women.

Of the first stamp perhaps, when the mettal was pu­rer then in these degenerate daies; of later yeares, much of that coine hath beene counterfait, and besides so crackt and worne with vse, that they are growne light, and in­deede fit for nothing, but to be turn'd ouer in play.

Not all brother.

My matchlesse sister only excepted: for shee, you know is made of an other mettall, then that shee borrow'd of her mother. But doe you brother sadly intend the pur­suite of this triall?

Irreuocably.

Its a high proiect: if it be once rais'd, the earth is too weake to beate so waightie an accident, it cannot bee con­iur'd downe againe, without an earth-quake, therefore be­leeue shee will be constant.

No, I will not.

Then beleeue shee will not be constant.

Neither, I will beleeue nothing but what triall en­forces; will you hold your promise for the gouerning of this proiect with skill, and secrecie?

If it must needes bee so. But hearke you brother; haue you no other Capricions in your head to intrap my sister in her frailtie, but to proue the firmenesse of her wid­dow vowes after your suppos'd death.

None in the world.

Then here's my hand, Ile be as close, as my Ladies shoe to her foote that pinches and pleases her, and will beare on with the plot, till the vessell split againe.

Forge any death, so you can force beliefe. Say I was poison'd, drown'd.

Hang'd.

Any thing, so you assist it with likely circumstance, [Page] I neede not instruct you: that must bee your imploiment Lycus.

Well Sir.

But brother you must set in to; to countenance truth out, a herse there must be too; Its strange to thinke how much the eie preuailes in such impressions; I haue marckt a Widdow, that iust before was seene pleasant e­nough, follow an emptie herse, and weepe deuoutly.

All those thinges leaue to me.

But brother for the bestowing of this herse in the monument of our Familie, and the marshalling of a Fu­nerall.

Leaue that to my care, and if I doe not doe the mourner, as liuely as your Heire, and weepe as lustily as your Widdow, say there's no vertue in Onions; that being done, Ile come to visit the distrest widdow; apply old ends of comfort to her griefe, but the burden of my song shall be to tell her wordes are but dead comforts; and therefore counsaile her to take a liuing comfort; that might Ferrit out the thought of her dead husband, and will come pre­par'd with choise of suiters; either my Spartane Lord for grace at the Viceroies Court, or some great Lawyer that may soder vp her crackt estate, and so forth. But what would you say brother, if you should finde her married at your arriuall.

By this hand split her Wezand.

Well, forget not your wager, a stately chariot with foure braue Horses of the Thracian breede, with all appur­tenances. Ile prepare the like for you, if you proue Vi­ctor; but well remembred, where will you lurke the whiles?

Mewd vp close, some short daies iourney hence, Lycus shall know the place, write still how all things passe, brother adiew; all ioy attend you.

Will you not stay our nuptiall now so neare.

I should be like a man that heares a tale And heedes it not; one absent from himselfe, my wife [Page] shall attend the Countesse, and my Sonne.

Whom you shal here at your returne call me father, adiew: Ioue be your speede.

My Nuptialls done, your Funeralls succeed.

A Hall, a hall: who's without there?

Come on, y'are proper Groomes, are yee not? Slight I thinke y'are all Bridegroomes, yee take your pleasures so. A companie of dormice. Their Honours are vpon com­ming, and the roome not readie. Rushes and seates in­stantly.

Now, alas fellow Argus, how thou art comberd with an office?

Perfume sirrha, the roome's dampish.

Nay you may leaue that office to the Ladies, theyle perfume it sufficiently.

Cry mercie Sir, here's a whole Chorus of Syluans at hand, cornetting, & tripping ath' toe, as the ground they troad on were too hot for their feete. The deuice is rare; and there's your yong Nephew too, he hangs in the clouds Deified with Hymens shape.

Is he perfect in's part? has not his tongue learn'd of the Syluans to trip ath' Toe?

Sir, beleeue it, he does it pretiously for accent and action, as if hee felt the part he plaid: hee rauishes all the yong Wenches in the Palace: Pray Venus my yong Ladie Laodice haue not some little prick of Cupid in her, shee's so diligent at's rehearsalls.

No force, so my next vowes be heard, that if Cupid haue prickt her, Hymen my cure her.

You meane your Nephew Sir that presents Hymen.

Why so, I can speake nothing but thou art with in me: fie of this wit of thine, 'twill be thy destruction. But howsoeuer you please to vnderstand, Hymen send the boy [Page] no worse fortune: And where's my Ladies honour?

At hand Sir, with your vnparagond sister, please you take your chaire of Honour Sir?

Most seruiceable Argus, the Gods reward they ser­uice; for I will not.

But your lookes, mee thinkes, are cloudie; suiting all the Sunne-shine of this cleare honour to your husbands house.

Is there ought here that sorts not with your liking?

Scoena Prima.

I Hope Sir by this time.

Put on man, by our selues.

The edge of your confidence is well taken off; would you not bee content to with-draw your [Page] wager?

Faith fellow Lycus, if my wager were weakely built, this vnexpected accident might stagger it▪ For the truth is, this strain is extraordinarie, to follow her husbands bodie into the Tombe, and there for his companie to burie her selfe quick: it's new and stirring, but for all this, Ile not despaire of my wager.

Why Sir, can you thinke such a passion dissembl'd?

All's one for that, What I thinke I thinke; In the meane time forget not to write to my Brother, how the plot hath succeeded, that the newes of his death hath ta­ken; a funerall solemnitie perform'd, his suppos'd Corse bestow'd in the monument of our Familie, thou and I hor­rible mourners: But aboue all that his intollerable vertuous Widow, for his loue; (and for her loue) Ero her hand-maid, are discended with his Corse into the vault; There wipe their eies time out of minde, drinke nothing but their own teares, and by this time are almost dead with famine. There's a point will sting it (for you say tis true) where left you him?

At Dipolis Sir, some twentie miles hence.

He keepes close.

I sir, by all meanes; skulks vnknowne vnder the name of a strange Knight.

That may carrie him without discrying, for there's a number of strange Knights abroad. You left him well.

Well Sir, but for this iealous humour that hants him.

Well, this newes will absolutely purge that humor. Write all, forget not to describe her passion at thy discoue­rie of his slaughter: did shee performe it well for her hus­bands wager?

Performe it, call you it? you may iest; men hunt Hares to death for their sports, but the poore beasts die in earnest: you wager of her passions for your pleasure, but shee takes little pleasure in those earnest passions. I neuer saw such an extasie of sorrow, since I knew the name of [Page] sorrow. Her hands flew vp to her head like Furies, hid all her beauties in her discheuel'd haire, & wept as she would turne fountaine. I would you and her husband had beene behind the Arras but to haue heard her. I assure you Sir, I was so transported with the spectacle, that in despight of my discretion, I was forc't to turne woman, and beare a part with her. Humanitie broke loose from my heart, and stream'd through mine eies.

In prose, thou weptst. So haue I seen many a moist Auditor doe at a play; when the storie was but a meere fi­ction: And didst act the Nuntius well, would I had heard it: could'st thou dresse thy lookes in a mournefull habite?

Not without preparation Sir; no more then my speech, twas a plaine acting of an enterlude to me, to pro­nounce the part.

As how for heauens sake?

Well Sir, This tale pronounc't with terrour, suited with action clothed with such likely circumstance; My wounds in shew, her husbands herse in sight, thinke what effect it wrought: And if you doubt, let the sad conse­quence of her retreat to his Tombe, bee your wofull in­structer.

O Gods! a passion thus borne; thus apparell'd with teares, sighes, swownings, and all the badges of true sor­row, to be dissembl'd! by Venus I am sorrie I euer set foot in't. Could shee, if shee dissembl'd, thus dally with hunger, be deafe to the barking of her appetite, not hauing these foure daies relieu'd nature with one dramme of su­stenance.

For this does shee looke to bee Deified, to haue Hymnes made of her, nay to her: The Tomb where she is to be no more reputed the ancient monument of our Fami­lie the Lysandri; but the new erected Altar of Cynthia: To which all the Paphian widdowes shall after their husbands Funeralls, offer their wet muckinders, for monuments of the danger they haue past, as Sea-men doe their wet gar­ments at Neptunes Temple after a ship wracke.

Well, Ile apprehend you, at your pleasure: I for my part will say; that if her faith bee as constant as her loue is heartie, and vnaffected, her vertues may iustly challenge a Deitie to enshrine them.

I, there's an other point too. But one of those ver­tues is enough at once. All natures are not capable of all gifts. If the braine of the West, were in the heads of the learned; then might Parish-Clerkes be common counsaile men, and Poets Aldermens deputies. My sister may turne Niobe for loue; but till Niobe bee turn'd to a Marble, Ile not despaire but shee may proue a woman. Let the triall runne on, if shee doe not out-runne it, Ile say Poets are no Prophets, Prognosticators are but Mountibankes, & none tell true but wood-mongers.

A sweet Gentleman you are. I meruaile what man? what woman? what name? what action doth his tongue glide ouer, but it leaues a slime vpon't. Well, Ile present­ly to Dipolis, where Lysander staies; and will not say but shee may proue fraile: But this Ile say, If she should chance to breake, Her teares are true▪ though womens truths are weake.

Good Souldier doe not stirre her, Shee's weake, and quickly seiz'd with swowning and pas­sions, and with much trouble shall we both recall her fain­ting spirits.

Fiue daies thus hath shee wasted; and not once season'd her Pallate with the tast of meate; her powers of life are spent; and what remaines of her famisht spirit, serues not to breath but sigh.

Shee hath exil'd her eies from steepe, or sight, and giuen them wholly vp to ceaselesse teares ouer that ruthfull herse [Page] of her deare Spouse, slaine by Bantditos, Nobly borne Lysander.

And hopes shee with these heauie notes and cries to call him from the dead? in these fiue daies hath shee but made him stirre a finger or fetch one gasp of that forsa­ken life shee mournes?

Say that with abstinence you should vnlose the knot of life: Suppose that in this Tombe for your deare Spouse, you should entomb your selfe a liuing Corse; Say that be­fore your houre without due Summons from the Fates, you send your hastie soule to hell: can your deare Spouse take notice of your faith and constancie? Shall your deare Spouse reuiue to giue you thankes?

By my soule; to speake plaine truth, I could ra­ther wish t'employ my teeth then my tongue, so your ex­ample would be my warrant.

With more prouision good Sir.

So; lets aire our dampish spirits, almost stifl'd in this grose muddie Element.

How sweet a breath the calmnesse of the night in­spires the aire withall?

Well said; Now y'are your selfe: did not I tell you how sweet an operation the Souldiers bottle had? And if there be such vertue in the bottle; what is there in the Souldier? know, and acknowledge his worth when hee comes in any case Mistris.

So Maide,

Gods my patience? did you looke forsooth that Iu­no should haue sent you meate from her owne Trencher, in reward of your widdowes teares? you might sit and sigh first till your heart-strings broke, Ile able't.

I feare me thy lips haue gone so oft to the bottle, that thy tongue-strings are come broken home.

Faith the truth is, my tongue hath beene so long tied vp, that tis couer'd with rust, & I rub it against my pallat as wee doe suspected coines, to trie whether it bee currant or no. But now Mistris for an vpshot of this bottle; let's haue one carouse to the good speede of my old Master, and the good speede of my new.

So Damzell.

You must pledge it, here's to it. Doe me right I pray.

You say I must.

Must? what else?

How excellent ill this humour suites our habite?

Go to Mistris, do not thinke but you and I shall haue good sport with this iest, when we are in priuate at home. I would to Venus we had some honest shift or other to get off withall; for Ile no more ant; Ile not turne Salt-peeter in this vault for neuer a mans companie liuing; much lesse for a womans. Sure I am the wonder's ouer, and 'twas on­ly for that, that I endur'd this; and so a my conscience did you. Neuer denie it.

Nay pray thee take it to thee.

HEarke I heare some footing neare vs.

Gods me 'tis the Souldier Mistris, by Venus if you fall to your late black Santus againe, Ile discouer you.

What's here? The maid hath certainly preuail'd with her; mee thinkes those cloudes that last night couer'd her lookes are now disperst: Ile trie this further. Saue you Lady.

Honorable Souldier? y'are welcome; please you step in sir?

With all my heart sweet heart; by your patience La­die; why this beares some shape of life yet. Damzell, th'ast [Page] performd a seruice of high reckoning, which cannot perish vnrewarded.

Faith Sir, you are in the way to doe it once, if you haue the heart to hold on.

Your bottle has poisond this wench sir.

A wholsome poison it is Ladie, if I may be iudge; of which sort here is one better bottle more.

I am most glad I haue beene some meane to this part of your recouerie, and will drinke to the rest of it.

Goe to Mistris, pray simper no more; pledge the man of Warre here.

Come y'are too rude.

Good.

Good sooth Ladie y'are honour'd in her seruice; I would haue you liue, and shee would haue you liue freely; without which life is but death. To liue freely is to feast our appetites freely; without which humanes are stones; to the satisfaction whereof I drinke Ladie.

Ile pledge you Sir.

Said like a Mistris; and the Mistris of your selfe; pledge him in loue too: I see hee loues you; Shee's silent, shee consents sir.

O happy starres. And now pardon Ladie; me thinks these are all of a peece.

Nay if you kisse all of a peece wee shall n'ere haue done: Well twas well offer'd, and as well taken.

If the world should see this.

The world! should one so rare as your selfe, respect the vulgar world?

The praise I haue had, I would continue.

What of the vulgar? Who hates not the vulgar, de­serues not loue of the vertuous. And to affect praise of that we despise, how ridiculous it is?

Scoena Prima:

Tempt not my stay, tis dangerous. The law is strict, and not to bee dispenst with. If any Sentinell be too late in's watch, or that by his neglect one of the crucified bo­dies should be stollen from the crosse, his life buyes it.

Out vpon't, Opinion the blind Goddesse of Fooles, Foe to the vertuous; and only friend to vndeseruing persons, con­temne it. Thou know'st thou hast done vertuously; thou hast strangly sorrow'd for thy husband, follow'd him to death; fur­ther thou could'st not, thou hast buried thy selfe quick. (O that 'twere true) spent more teares ouer his carcase, then would serue a whole Citie of saddest widdowes in a plague time; besides sighings, and swownings, not to be credited.

True; but those complements might haue their time for fashion sake.

Right, Opinion and Fashion. Sfoot what call you time? t' hast wept these foure whole daies.

Nay berladie almost fiue.

Looke you there; nere vpon fiue whole daies.

Well goe and see; Returne, weele goe home.

Hell be thy home, Huge Monsters damne yee, and your whole creation, O yee Gods; in the height of her mourning in a Tomb, within sight of so many deaths! her husbands be­leeu'd bodie in her eie. He dead, a few daies before; this mir­rour of Nuptiall chastitie; this Votresse of widdow-constan­cie: to change her faith; exchange kisses, embraces, with a stranger; and but my shame with-stood, to giue the vtmost earnest of her loue, to an eight-pennie Sentinell: in effect, to prostitute her selfe vpon her husbands Coffin! Lust, impietie, hell, womanhood it selfe, adde if you can one step to this.

ONe of the crucified bodies taken downe!

Enough.

And the Sentinell not to be heard off?

No sir.

Make out; hast, search about for him; does none of you know him? nor his name?

Hee's but a stranger here of some foure daies standing; and we neuer set eie on him, but at setting the watch.

For whom serues he? you looke well to your watch ma­sters.

For Seigneur Stratio, and whence he is, tis ignorant to vs; we are not correspondent for any, but our owne places.

Y'are eloquent. Abroad I say, let me haue him.

This negligence will by the Gouernour be wholly cast on me, he hereby will suggest to the Viceroy, that the Citie guards are very caresly attended. He loues mee not I know; because of late I knew him but of meane condition; but now by fortunes iniudicious hand, guided by bribing Courtiers, hee is rais'd to this high seate of honour. Nor blushes he, to see him selfe ad­uanc't ouer the heads of ten times higher worths; but takes it all forsooth, to his merits; and lookes (as all vpstarts doe) for most huge obseruance. Well, my mind must stoope to his high place, and learne within it selfe to seuer him from that, and to adore Authoritie the Goddesse, how euer borne by an vn­worthie beast; and let the Beasts dull apprehension take the honour done to Isis, done to himselfe. I must sit fast, and bee sure to giue no hold to these fault-hunting enemies.

Pray thee disturbe me not; put out the lights.

Faith Ile take a nap againe.

Yet say so (sweet) that with the thought thereof I may enioy all that I wish in earth.

I am sought for. A crucified body is stolne while I loi­ter'd here; and I must die for't,

Die? All the Gods forbid; O this affright torments me ten parts more then the sad losse of my deare husband.

(Damnation) I beleeue thee.

O I could teare my selfe into Atomes; off with this Antick, the shirt that Hercules wore for his wife, was not more bane­full. Is't possible there should be such a latitude in the Sphere of this sexe, to entertaine such an extention of mischiefe, and not turne Deuill. What is a woman? what are the worst when the best are so past naming? As men like this let them trie their wiues againe. Put women to the test; discouer them; paint them, paint them ten parts more then they doe themselues, ra­ther then looke on them as they are; Their wits are but pain­ted that dislike their painting. Thou foolish thirster after idle secrets, And ill's abrode; looke home, and store & choke thee; There sticks an Achelons horne of all, Copie enough.

I wonder Lycus failes me. Nor can I heare whats be­come of him. Hee would not certaine ride to Dipolis to call my brother back, without my knowledge.

My brothers voice; what makes he here abouts so vn­timely? Ile slip him.

Who goes there?

A friend.

Deare friend, lets know you. A friend least look't for but most welcome, and with many a long looke expected here. What sir vnbooted? haue you beene long arriu'd?

Not long, some two houres before night.

Well brother, y'haue the most rare, admirable, vnmatch­able wife, that euer suffer'd for the sinne of a husband. I cannot blame your confidence indeede now: 'tis built on such infalli­ble ground; Lycus I thinke be gone to call you to the rescue of her life; why shee! O incomprehensible!

I haue heard all related since my arriuall, weele meet to morrow.

What hast brother? But was it related with what vn­tollerable paines, I and my Mistris, her other friends, Matrones and Magistrates, labour'd her diuersion from that course?

Yes, yes.

What streams of teares she powr'd out; what tresses of her haire she tore! and offer'd on your suppos'd herse!

I haue heard all.

But aboue all; how since that time, her eies neuer har­bour'd winck of slumber, these sixe daies; no nor tasted the least dramme of any sustenance.

How is that assurd?

Not a scruple.

Are you sure there came no Souldier to her nor brought her victualls?

Souldier? what Souldier?

Why some Souldier of the watch, that attends the exe­cuted bodies: well brother I am in hast; to morrow shall sup­ply this nights defect of conference; Adieu.

A Souldier? of the watch? bring her victualls? Goe to brother I haue you in the winde; hee's vnharnest of all his tra­uailing accoutrements. I came directly from's house, no word of him there; he knowes the whole relation; hee's passionate: All collections speake he was the Souldier. What should be the riddle of this? that he is stolne hether into a Souldiers disguise? he should haue staid at Dipolis to receiue news from vs. Whe­ther he suspected our relation; or had not patience to expect it, or whether that furious, frantique capricious Deuill iealousie hath tost him hether on his hornes, I can not coniecture. But the case is cleare, hee's the Souldier. Sister, looke to your fame, your chastetie's vncouer'd. Are they here still? here beleeue it both most wofully weeping ouer the bottle.

Who's there.

Tharsalio, open.

Alas Sir, tis no boote to vexe your sister, and your selfe, she is desperate, & will not heare perswasion, she's very weak.

Here's a true-bred chamber-maid. Alas, I am sorrie for't; I haue brought her meat and Candian wine to strengthen her.

O the very naming an't, will driue her into a swowne; good Sir forbeare.

Yet open sweet, that I may blesse mine eies with sight of her faire shrine; and of thy sweetest selfe (her famous Pan­dresse) open I say. Sister? you heare me well, paint not your Tomb without; wee know too well what rotten carcases are lodg'd within; open I say. Ero opens, and hee sees her head layd on the coffin, &c. Sister I haue brought you tidings to wake you out of this sleeping mummerie.

Alas shee's faint, and speech is painefull to her.

Well said frubber, was there no Souldier here lately?

A Souldier? when?

This night, last night, tother night; and I know not how many nights and daies.

Whose there?

Your brother Mistris, that asks if there were not a soul­dier here.

Here was no souldier.

Yes Mistris I thinke here was such a one though you tooke no heede of him.

Goe to sister; did not you ioyne kisses, embraces, and plight indeede with him, the vt­most pledge of Nuptiall loue with him. Deni't, deni't; but first heare me a short storie. The Souldier was your disguis'd husband, dispute it not. That you see yonder, is but a shadow, an emptie chest containing nothing but aire. Stand not to gaze at it, tis true. This was a proiect of his owne contriuing to put your loialtie & constant vowes to the test; y'are warnd, be arm'd.

O fie a these perils.

O Ero! we are vndone.

Nay, you'd nere be warn'd; I euer wisht you to withstand the push of that Souldiers pike, and not enter him too deep in­to your bosom, but to keep sacred your widowes vowes made to Lysander.

Thou did'st, thou did'st.

Now you may see th'euent. Well our safetie lies in our speed: heele doe vs mischiefe, if we preuent not his comming. Lets to your Mothers: and there cal out your mightiest friends to guard you from his furie. Let them begin the quarrell with him for practising this villanie on your sexe to intrappe your frailties.

Nay I resolue to sit out one brunt more; to trie to what aime heele enforce his proiect: were he some other man, vn­knowne to me, his violence might awe me; but knowing him as I doe, I feare him not. Do thou but second me, thy strength and mine shall master his best force, if he should proue outra­gious. Despaire they say makes cowardes turne couragious. Shut vp the Tomb.

All paines are lost in hunting out this Souldier; his fear (ad­ding wings to his heeles) out-goes vs as farre as the fresh Hare the tir'd hounds. Who goes there?

A friend.

O, your successe and mine touching this Sentinell, tells, I suppose, one tale; hee's farre enough I vn­dertake by this time.

I blame him not: the law's se­uere (though iust and can not be dispenc'd.)

Why should the lawes of Paphos, with more rigour, then other Citie lawes pursue offenders? that not appeas'd with their liues forfait, exact a iustice of them after death? And if a Soul­dier in his watch forsooth lose one of the dead bodies, he must die for't: It seems the State needed no souldiers when that was made a law.

So we may chide the fire for burning vs; or say the Bee's not good because she stings; Tis not the body the law respects, but the souldiers neglect; when the watch (the guard and safetie of the Citie) is left abandon'd to all hazards. But let him goe; and tell me if your newes sort with mine, for Lycus; apprehended they say, about Lysanders murther.

Tis true; hee's at the Captaines lodge vnder guard, and tis my charge in the morning to vnclose the leaden coffin, and dis­couer the bodie; The Captaine will assay an old conclusion of­ten approu'd; that at the murtherers sight the bloud reuiues againe, and boiles a fresh; and euery wound has a condem­ning voice to crie out guiltie gainst the murtherer.

O world, if this be true; his dearest friend, his bed compa­nion, whom of all his friends he cull'd out for his bosome!

Tush man, in this topsie turuy world, friendship and bosom kindnes, are but made couers for mischief, meanes to compasse il. Near-allied trust, is but a bridge for treson. The presumptions [Page] crie loud against him; his answeres found disiointed; crosse­legd tripping vp one another. He names a Town whether he brought Lysander murther'd by Mountainers, thats false, some of the dwellers haue been here, and all disclaim it. Besides, the wounds he bears in show, are such as shrews closely giue their husbands, that neuer bleede, and finde to be counterfait.

Faith (as the manner of such desperate offenders is till it come to the point) carelesse, & confident, laughing at all that seeme to pittie him. But leaue it to th'euent. Night fellow Souldier, youle not meet me in the morning at the Tomb, and lend me your hand to the vnrigging of Lysanders herse.

BRing him away; you must haue patience Sir: If you can say ought to quit you of those presumptions [Page] that lie heauie on you, you shall be heard. If not, tis not your braues, nor your affecting lookes can carrie it. We must acquite our duties.

Y'are Captaine a th' watch Sir.

You take me right.

So were you best doe mee; see your presumptions bee strong; or be assured that shall proue a deare presumption, to brand me with the murther of my friend. But you haue beene suborn'd by some close villaine to defame me.

Twill not be so put off friend Lycus, I could wish your soule as free from taint of this foule fact; as mine from any such vnworthy practise.

Conduct mee to the Gouernour him selfe; to confront before him your shallow accusations.

First Sir, Ile beare you to Lysanders Tombe, to confront the murther'd body; and see what euidence the wounds will yeeld against you.

Y'are wise Captaine. But if the bodie should chance not to speake; If the wounds should bee tongue-tied Captaine; where's then your euidence Captaine? will you not be laught at for an officious Captaine?

Y'are gallant Sir.

Your Captainship commands my seruice no further.

Well Sir, perhaps I may, if this conclusion take not; weele trie what operation lies in torture, to pull confession from you.

Say you so Captaine? but hearke you Captaine, Might it not concurre with the qualitie of your office, ere this matter grow to the height of a more threatning danger; to winck a little at a by slip, or so?

How's that?

To send a man abroad vnder guard of one of your sil­liest shack-rags; that be may beate the knaue, and run's way. I meane this on good termes Captaine; Ile be thankfull.

Ile thinke ont hereafter. Meane time I haue other em­ploiment for you.

Your place is worthily replenisht Captaine. My dutie Sir; Hearke Captaine, there's a mutinie in your Armie; Ile go raise the Gouernour.

No hast Sir; heele soone be here without your summons.

Bring forth the Knight ath' Tomb; haue we meet with you Sir?

Pray thee souldier vse thine office with better tem­per.

Come conuay him to the Lord Gouernour, First afore the Captaine Sir. Haue the heauens nought else to doe, but to stand still, and turne all their malignant Aspects vpon one man?

Captaine here's the Sentinell wee sought for; hee's some new prest Souldier, for none of vs know him.

Where found you him?

My truant was mich't Sir into a blind corner of the Tomb.

Well said, guard him safe, bur for the Corps.

For the Corps Sir? bare misprision, there's no bodie, no­thing. A meere blandation; a deceptio visus. Vnlesse this soul­dier for hunger haue eate vp Lysanders bodie.

Why, I could haue told you this before Captaine; The body was borne away peece-meale by deuout Ladies of Ve­nus order, for the man died one of Venus Martys. And yet I heard since 'twas seene whole ath' other side the downes vp­pon a Colestafe betwixt two huntsmen, to feede their dogges withall. Which was a miracle Captaine.

Mischiefe in this act hath a deepe bottom; and requires more time to sound it. But you Sir, it seemes, are a Souldier of the newest stamp. Know you what tis to forsake your stand? There's one of the bodies in your charge stolne away; how answere you that? See here comes the Gouernour.

STand aside there.

Roome for a strange Gouernour. The perfect draught of a most brainelesse, imperious vpstart. O desert! where wert thou, when this woodden dagger was guilded o­uer with the Title of Gouernour?

Peace Masters; heare my Lord.

All wisedome be silent; Now speakes Authoritie.

I am come in person to discharge Iustice.

Of his office.

The cause you shall know hereafter; and it is this. A villaine, whose very sight I abhorre; where is he? Let mee see him.

Is't Lycus you meane my Lord?

Goe to sirrha y'are too malipert; I haue heard of your Sentinells escape; looke too't.

My Lord, this is the Sentinell you speake of.

How now Sir? what time a day ist?

I can not shew you precisely, ant please your Honour.

What? shall we haue replications? Reioinders?

Such a creature, Foole is, when hee bestrides the back of Authoritie.

Sirrha, stand you forth. It is supposed thou hast com­mitted a most inconuenient murther vpon the body of Ly­sander.

My good Lord, I haue not.

Peace varlet; dost chop with me? I say it is imagined thou hast murther'd Lysander. How it will be prou'd I know not. Thou shalt therefore presently bee had to execution, as iustice in such cases requireth. Souldiers take him away: bring forth the Sentinell.

Your Lordship will first let my defence be heard.

Sirrha; Ile no fending nor prouing. For my part I am satisfied, it is so: thats enough for thee. I had euer a Sympathy in my minde against him.

Let him be had away.

A most excellent apprehension. Hee's able yee see to iudge of a cause at first sight, and heare but two parties. Here's a second Solon.

Madam, content your selfe. I will doe iustice; I will not heare him. Your late Lord, was my Honourable Prede­cessour: But your Ladiship must pardon me. In matters of iu­stice I am blinde.

Thats true.

I know no persons. If a Court fauourite write to mee in a case of iustice: I will pocket his letter, and proceede. If a Suiter in a case of iustice thrusts a bribe into my hand, I will pocket his bribe, and proceede. Therefore Madam, set your heart at rest: I am seated in the Throne of iustice; and I will doe iustice; I will not heare him.

Not heare him my Lord?

No my Ladie: and moreouer put you in mind, in whose presence you stand; if you Parrat to me long; goe to.

Nay the Vice must snap his Authoritie at all he meetes, how shalt else be knowne what part he plaies?

Your husband was a Noble Gentleman, but Alas hee came short, hee was no Statesman. Hee has left a foule Citie behinde him.

I, and I can tell you twill trouble his Lordship and all his Honorable assistants of Seauingers to sweepe it cleane.

It's full of vices, and great ones too.

And thou none of the meanest.

But Ile turne all topsie turuie; and set vp a new disci­pline amongst you. Ile cut of all perisht members.

Thats the Surgeons office.

Cast out these rotten stinking carcases for infecting the whole Citie.

Rotten they may be, but their wenches vse to pepper them; and their Surgeons to perboile them; and that pre­serues them from stinking, ant please your Honour.

Peace Sirrha, peace; and yet tis well said too. A good pregnant fellow yfaith. But to proceede. I will spew drun­kennesse out ath' Citie.

In to th' Countrie.

Shifters shall cheate and sterue; And no man shall doe good but where there is no neede. Braggarts shall liue at the head; and the tumult that hant Tauernes. Asses shall beare good qualities, and wise men shall vse them. I will whip le­chefie out ath' Citie, there shall be no more Cuckolds. They that heretofore were errand Cornutos, shall now bee honest shop-keepers, and iustice shall take place. I will hunt ielousie [Page] out of my Dominion.

Doe heare Brother?

It shall be the only note of loue to the husband, to loue the wife: And none shall be more kindly welcome to him then he that cuckolds him.

Beleeue it a wholsome reformation.

Ile haue no more Beggers. Fooles shall haue wealth, and the learned shall liue by their wits. Ile haue no more Banckrouts. They that owe money shall pay it at their best leisure: And the rest shall make a vertue of imprisonment; and their wiues shall helpe to pay their debts. Ile haue all yong widdowes spaded for marrying againe. For the old and wi­ther'd, they shall be confiscate to vnthriftie Gallants, and de­cai'd Knights. If they bee poore they shall bee burnt to make sope ashes, or giuen to Surgeons Hall, to bee stampt to salue for the French mesells. To conclude, I will Cart pride out ath' Towne.

Ant please your Honour Pride ant be nere so beggarly will looke for a Coch.

Well said a mine Honour. A good significant fellow yfaith: What is he? he talkes much; does he follow your La­diship?

No ant please your Honour, I goe before her.

A good vndertaking presence; A well-promising fore head, your Gentleman Vsher Madam?

Yours if you please my Lord.

Borne ith' Citie?

I ant please your Honour, but begot ith' Court.

Tressellegg'd?

I, ant please your Honour.

The better, it beares a bredth; makes roome a both sides. Might I not see his pace?

Yes ant please your Honour.

Tis well, tis very well. Giue me thy hand: Madame I will accept this propertie at your hand, and wil weare it thred­bare for your sake. Fall in there, sirrha. And for the matter of Lycus Madam, I must tell you, you are shallow: there's a State point in't? hearke you: The Viceroy has giuen him, and [Page] wee must vphold correspondence. Hee must walke; say one man goes wrongfully out ath' world, there are hundreds to one come wrongfully into th' world.

Your Lordship will giue me but a word in priuate.

Come brother; we know you well: what meanes this habite? why staid you not at Dipolis as you resolu'd, to take aduertisement for vs of your wiues bearing?

O brother, this iealous phrensie has borne mee head­long to ruine.

Go to, be comforted; vncase your selfe; and discharge your friend.

Is that Lysander say you? And is all his storie true? Berladie Madam this iealousie will cost him deare: he vnder­tooke the person of a Souldier; and as a Souldier must haue iustice. Madam, his Altitude in this case can not dispence. Ly­cus, this Souldier hath acquited you.

And that acquitall Ile for him requite; the body lost, is by this time restor'd to his place.

It is my Lord.

These are State points, in which your Lordships time has not yet train'd your Lordship; please your Lordships graces Nuptiall we haue now in hand.