The old couple a comedy / by Thomas May, Esq.

Author: May, Thomas, 1595-1650.1658

[Page]

The Old Couple. A COMEDY. BY Thomas May, Esq

LONDON, Printed by J. Cottrel, for Samuel Speed, at the signe of the Printing-press in S. Paul's Church-yard. 1658.

[Page]

Actors Names.

Sr. Argent Scrape, An old covetous rich Knight.
Earthworm, An old miserly niggard.
Mr. Freeman.
Eugeny, Sr. Argent Scrapes nephew.
Euphues, Freemans nephew, Scudmores friend.
Theodore, Earthworms vertuous son.
Scudmore, supposed to be slain by Eugeny.
Fruitful, The Lady Covets Chaplain, Scudmore disguis'd.
Barnet.
Dotterel, A Gull, married to the Lady Whimsey.
Trusty, The Lady Covets Steward.
Jasper, Earthworms servant.
3. Neighbours of Earthworms.
Officers.

Women Actors.

The Lady Covet, Betrothed to Sr. Argent Scrape.
Matilda, Earthworms neece, Scudmores Love.
Arremia, Freemans daughter, Eugeny's Love.
The Lady Whimsey, Married to Dotterel.

[Page 1]

Incipit Actus Primus.

Eugeny solus.

Eug.

THis is the hour which fair Artemia

Promis'd to borrow from all company,

And bless me only with it, to deny

Her beauteous presence to all else, and shine

On me, poor me! within this garden here,

This happy garden, once while I was happy,

And wanted not a free access unto it,

Before my fatal and accursed crime

Had shut these gates of paradise against me,

When I without controul alone might spend

With sweet Artemia in these fragrant walks

The days short-seeming hours, and ravish'd, hear

Her sweet discourses of the lillyes whiteness,

The blushing rose, blew-mantled violet,

Pale daffodil, and purple hyacinth,

With all the various sweets, and painted gloryes

Of natures wardrobe, which were all eclips'd

By her diviner beauty; but alas!

What boots the former happiness I had,

But to increase my sorrow? my sad crime

Has left me now no entrance but by stealth,

When death and danger dog my venterous steps.

But welcome danger, since thou find'st so fair

A recompence, as my Artemiaes sight.

Artemia. Eugeny.

And art thou come, my dearest Eugeny?

Has thy true love broke through so many hazards

To visit me? I prethee chide my fondness

That did command thee such a dangerous task.

I did repent it since, and was in hope

Thou wouldst not come.

Eug.

Why hop'd Artemia so?

Wouldst thou not see me then? or can the hazard

Of ten such lives as mine is, counter vail

[Page 2] One glance of favor from thy beauteous eyes?

Art.

Why dost thou use that language to a heart

Which is thy captive, Eugeny, and lives

In nothing happy but in thee?

Eug.

Ah! love,

There lyes my greatest sorrow, that the storms

Of spiteful fortune which orewhelm my state,

Should draw thy constant goodness to a suffring,

A goodness worthy of the happyest man

Art.

Those storms of fortune will be soon oreblown

When once thy cause shall be but truly known,

That chance, not malice wrought it; and thy pardon

Will be with ease obtain'd

Eug.

It may be, love,

If old Sr. Argent do deal truly in it.

Art.

But keep thy self conceal'd, do not rashly

Venture two lives in one, or when thou com'st

Let it be still in silence of the night.

No visitation then, or other strange

Unlook'd for accident can bar our joyes.

The Moon is now in her full orb, and lends

Seemer light to lovers then the Sun.

Then onely come, but prethee tell me love,

How dost thou spend thy melancholy time?

Eug.

Within the covert of yon shady wood

Which cloathes the mountains rough and craggy top,

A little hovel built of boughs and reeds

Is my abode, from whence the spreading trees

Keep out the Sun, and do bestow in lieu

A greater benefit, a safe concealment.

In that secure and solitary place,

I give my pleas'd imagination leave

To feast it self with thy supposed presence,

Whose only shadow brings more joy to me

Then all the substance of the world beside.

Art.

Just so alone am I, nay want the presence

Of mine own heart, which strayes to finde out thee.

But who comes to thee to supply thy wants?

Eug.

There Artemia names my happiness,

A happiness, which next thy love, I hold

To be the greatest that the world can give,

And I am proud to name it. I doe there

Enjoy a friend, whose sweet society.

Makes that dark wood a palace of delight;

One stor'd with all that can commend a man,

In whom refined knowledge and pure art

Mixing with true and sound morality

Is crown'd with piety.

Art.

What wonder's this

[Page 3] Whom thou describ'st?

Eug.

But I in vain, alas!

Doe strive to make with my imperfect skill

A true dissection of his noble parts:

He loses, Love, by all that I can say,

For praise can come no neerer to his worth,

Then can a Painter with his mimick Sun,

Express the beauty of Hyperion.

Art.

What is his name?

Eug.

His name is Theodore,

Rich Earthworms son, lately come home from travel.

Art.

Oh heavens! his son! Can such a caitif wretch

Hated and curst by all, have such a son?

The miser lives alone, abhorr'd by all

Like a disease, yet cannot so be scap'd,

But cankerlike, eats through the poor mens hearts

That live about him, never has commerce

With any but to ruine them; his house

Inhospitable as the wilderness,

And never look'd upon but with a curse:

He hoords in secret place of the earth

Not only bags of treasure, but his corn,

Whose every grain he prizes 'bove a life,

And never prayes at all, but for dear years.

Eug.

For his sons sake tread gently on his fame.

Art.

Oh! Love, his fame cannot be redeem'd

From obloquy; but thee I trust so far

As highly to esteem his worthy son.

Eug.

That man is all, and more then I have said:

His wondrous vertues will hereafter make

The people all forgive his father's ill.

I was acquainted with him long ago

In forreign parts. And now I think on't, Love,

He'll be the fittest man to be acquainted

With all our secresies, and be a means

To further us; and think I trust his truth,

That dare so much commend his worth to thee.

Art.

He is my neighbour here, that house is Earthworms,

That stands alone beside you grove of trees:

And fear not, dearest Love, Ile finde a means

To send for him, doe you acquaint him first.

Exeunt.

Euphues, Dotterel, Barnet.

Euph.

Then shall I tell my cozen that you are

A younger brother, Mr. Dotterel?

Dot.

Oh yes, by any means Sir.

Euph.

What's your reason?

Dot.

A crotchet Sir, a crotchet that I have.

Here's one can tell you I have twenty of 'um,

Bar.

[Page 4]

Euphues disswade him not, he is resolv'd

To keep his birth and fortunes both conceal'd,

Yet win her so or no way: he would know

Whether himself be truly lov'd or no,

And not his fortunes only.

Euph.

Well, access

You have already sound, pursue it Sir;

But give me leave to wonder at your way.

Another wooer to obtain his love

Would put on all his colours, stretch r'appear

At his full height, or a degree beyond it;

Bely his fortunes, borrow what he wan [...]ed,

Not make himself less then he truly is.

What reason is there that a man possest

Of fortunes large enough, that may come boldly

A welcome suiter to her self and friends,

And ten to one, speed in his suit the fair

And usual way, should play the fool and lose

His precious time in such a hopeless wooing!

Dot.

Alas Sir, what is a Gentlemans time?

Bar.

Euphues he tels you true, there are some brains

Can never lose their time what ere they do:

Yet I can tell you, he has read some books.

Dot.

Doe not disparage me.

Bar.

I warrant thee,

And in those books he says he findes examples

Of greatest beauties that have so been won.

Euph.

Oh! in Parismus, and the Knight o'th Sun.

Are those your Authors?

Dot.

Yes, and those are good ones:

Why should a man of worth, though but a shepherd,

Despair to get the love of a Kings daughter?

Euph

I prethee Barnet how hast thou skrew'd up

This fool to such a monstrous confidence?

Bar.

He needs no skrewing up; but let him have

His swinge a little.

Euph

He shall have it freely.

But you have seen your mistres, Mr Dotterel,

How doe you finde her? coming?

Dot.

That's all one,

I know what I know.

Bar.

He has already got

Some footing in her favor.

Euph.

But I doubt

Hee'l play the tyrant, make her doat too long,

Wear the green sickness as his livery,

And pine a yeer or two

Dot.

Shee's not the first

That has done so for me.

Euph.

But if you use

My Cozen so, I shall not take it well.

Dot.

Oh, I protest I have no such meaning Sir,

See, here she comes, the Lady whimsey too.

[Page 5]

nter Lady Whimsy, Artemia.

Lad.

I thought sweet heart, th'had'st wanted company.

Art.

Why so I did yours, Madam.

Lad.

Had I known

Your house had been so full of gallants now,

I would have spar'd my visit. But 'tis all one,

I have met a friend here.

Euph.

Your poor servant, Madam.

Lad.

I was confessing of your cozen here

About th'affairs of love.

Euph.

Your Ladiship

I hope will shrieve her gently.

Lad.

But I tell her

She shall not thank me now for seeing her,

For I have business hard by. I am going

A suitor to your old rich neighbor here,

Earthworm.

Euph.

A suitor? he is very hard

In granting any thing, especially

If it be money.

Lad

Yes, my suit's for money,

Nay all his money, and I himself to boot.

Bar.

His money would doe well without himself.

Lad.

And with himself.

Bar.

Alas! your Ladiship

Should too much wrong your beauty to bestow it

Upon one that cannot use it, and debar

More able men their wishes.

Euph.

That's true, Barnet,

If she should bar all other men, but that

Would be too great a cruelty.

Art.

Doe you hear

My cozen Madam?

Lad.

Yes, he will be heard:

Rather then fail, he'll give himself the hearing.

But prethee Euphues tell me plainly now

What thou dost think of me. I love thy freeness

Better then any flattery in the world

Euph.

I think you won drous wise.

Lad.

In what?

Euph.

In that

That makes or mars a woman, I mean love.

Lad.

Why prethee?

Euph.

I think you understand so well

What the true use of man is, that you'll nere

Trouble your thoughts with care, or spoyl your beauty

With the green sickness, to obtain a thing

Which you can purchase a discreeter way.

Art.

How doe you like this, Madam?

Lad.

Wondrous well,

'Tis that I look'd for. But what entertainment

Would old rich Earthworm give us, do you thinke?

Bar.

Unless your presence, Madam, could infuse

A nobler soul into him, 'tis much fear'd

'Twould be but mean.

Lad.

Because (you'll say) hee's covetous:

Tut, I can work a change in any man:

If I were married to him, you should see

What I would make him.

Euph.

I beleeve we should,

aside

If cuckolds horns were visible.

Art.

But could

[Page 6] Your Ladyship be pleas'd with such a husband?

Lad.

Who could not well be pleas'd with such a fortune?

Art.

Wealth cannot make a man

Lad.

But his wealth, Lady,

Can make a woman.

Euph.

Yet I doubt old Earthworm

Would prove too subtle to be govern'd so:

You'll finde him, Madam, an old crabbed piece.

Some gentle fool were better for a husband.

Art.

Fie, cozen, how thou talk'st.

Lad.

Hee's in the right:

Fools are the only husbands, one may rule'um.

Why should not we desire to use men so

As they would us? I have heard men protest

They would have their wives silly, and not study'd

In any thing but to dress themselves,

And not so much as able to write letters.

Just such a husband would I wish to have,

So qualify'd, and not a jot beyond it,

He should not have the skill to write or read.

Art.

What could you get by that?

Lad.

I should be sure

He could not read my letters; and for bonds,

When I should have occasion to use money,

His mark would serve.

Art.

I am not of your minde,

I would not have a fool for all the world.

Bar.

No, fairest Lady, your perfections

None but the wisest and the best of men

Can truly finde and value.

Dot.

And I protest, Lady,

I honour you for not loving a fool.

Lad.

You would love a wife it seems that loves not you.

Euph

A tart jest, Barnet.

Bar.

But he feels it not.

Euph.

Fie, Mr. Dotterel, 'tis not nobly done

In you to hate a fool: a generous spirit

Would take the weakest parts, and fools you know

Are weakest still.

Dot.

Faith, Mr. Euphues,

I must confess I have a generous spirit,

And do a little sympathize with fools.

I learn'd that word from a good honest man.

But hark you, cozen Barnet, this same Lady

Is a brave woman.

Bar.

Are you taken with her?

Dot.

I love a wit with all my heart.

Bar.

'Tis well,

He is already taken off, I see;

Aside

From fair Artemia, or may be soon;

Upon this tother I may build a fortune.

Euph.

But, Madam, if your Ladyship would marry

Upon those terms, 'twere better that you took

Old Earthworms son.

Lad.

Has he a son, I prethee?

Euph

Yes, lately come from travel, as they say,

We have not seen him yet, he has kept close

[Page 7] Since his arrival; people give him out

To be his father's own.

Lad.

Nay, then I swear

Ile none of him, if he be covetous

And young, I shall be troubled too long with him:

I had rather have the old one.

Art.

Here's my father.

Enter Mr. Freeman.

Free.

Health to this good society; I am sorry

That my poor house must not to day enjoy

The happiness to entertain you all.

We are invited to th'old Lady Covets,

And thither must our company remove.

Lad.

Sir, Ile be govern'd by you. I was bold

To come and see Mrs. Artemia.

Free.

Shee's much beholding to your Ladyship

For doing her that honor.

Euph.

Tell me, Uncle,

I hear Sir Argent Scrape is at her house.

Free.

Nephew, 'tis true, and which thou'lt wonder at,

That marriage, which we talk'd of as a jest,

In earnest now's concluded of, and shall

To morrow morning be solemnized

Euph.

Betwixt Sr. Argent and the Lady Covet?

I doe not thinke it strange; there's but one hedge

Has a long time divided them, I mean

Their large estates, and 'tis th'estate that marries.

Free.

But is't not strange? nay, most unnatural?

And I may say ridiculous, for those years

To marry, and abuse the ordinance?

My Lady Covet is at least fourscore,

And he this year is fourscore and fifteen:

Besides, he has been bedrid long, and lame

Of both his feet.

Euph.

Uncle, hee's not too old

To love, I mean her money, and in that

The chifest end of marriage is fulfill'd,

He will increase and multiply his fortunes;

Increase you know, is the true end of marriage.

Free.

They have already almost the whole country.

Euph.

But you shall see how now they'll propagate

Free.

Is such a marriage lawful?

Euph.

Ah! good Uncle,

Dispute not that, the Church has nought in this;

Their Lawyer is the Priest that marries them,

The banes of matrimony are the indentures,

The bounds and land-marks are the ring that joyns them.

Art.

But ther's no love at all.

Euph.

Yes, pretty cozen,

If thou art read in amorous books, thou'lt finde

That Cupids arrow has a golden head,

[Page 8] And 'twas a golden shaft that wounded them.

Free.

Well, thither we must go; but prethee nephew

Forbear thy jesting there.

Euph.

I warrant you,

Ile flatter the old Lady, and persuade her

How well she looks: but when they go to bed

Ile write their epitaph.

Free.

How man? their epitaph?

Their epithalamion thou mean'st.

Euph.

No Sirs

Over their marriage bed Ile write their ages,

And only say, Here lies Sir Argent Scrape

Together with his wife the Lady Covet;

And whosoever reads it, will suppose

The place to be a Tomb, no marriage bed.

Lad.

How strangely thou art taken with this weddig

Before thou seest it!

Euph.

And then let me see,

To fit them for an Hymenaean song,

In stead of those so high and spirited strains

Which the old Graecian Lovers us'd to sing

When lusty Bridgrooms rifled mayden-heads,

Ile sing a quiet dirge, and bid them sleep

In peaceful rest; and bid the cloathes, instead

Of earth, lie gently on their aged bones—

Free.

Thou'lt nere have done. Well, gallants, 'tis almost

The time that calls us, I must needs be gone.

Lad.

We'll wait upon you Sir.

Free.

Your servant, Madam. Exeunt.

Manent Artemia, Euphues.

Art.

Stay, cozen, I have a request to thee.

Euph.

Thou canst not fear that Ile deny it thee:

Speak it, 'tis done.

Art.

Why then in short 'tis this:

Old Earthworm, cozen, has a son they say

Lately come home; his name, as I have heard

Is Theodore.

Euph.

Yes, I have heard of him.

Art.

I would intreat you by some means or other

To draw him hither, I'de faith speak with him:

Ask not the cause, but do what I request:

You may hereafter know.

Euph.

Well, Ile not question't,

But bring him hither, though I know him not.

Art.

Cozen, farewel, I shall be look'd for straight.

Exit Artemia. Manet Euphues.

Euph.

Rich Earthworm's son? why in the name of wonder

Should it be her desire to speak with him?

She knows him not: wel, let it be a riddle,

I have not so much wit as to expound it;

Nor yet so little, as to lose my thoughts,

Or study to finde our, what the no reason

[Page 9] Of a young wenches will is: should I guess.

I know not what to think; may she have heard

That hee's a proper man, and so desire

To satisfie her self? What reason then

Can she alledge to him? Tut, that's not it;

Her beauty, and large dower, need not to seek

Out any fuitors, and the odious name

Of his old wretched father would quite choak it:

Or have some tattling gossips, or the maids

Told her perchance that hee's a conjurer?

He goes in black; they say he is a scholar,

Has been beyond sea too, there it may lie;

And he must satisfie her longing thought,

What, or how many husbands she shall have,

Of what degree, upon what night she shall

Dream of the man, when she shall fast and walk

In the Church-yard to see him passing by

Just in those cloathes that first he comes a suitor:

These things may be; but why should she make me

To be her instrument? some of the men

Or maids might do't as well: well, since you have

Us'd me, fair cozen, I will sound your drifts,

Or't shall go hard. The fellow may abuse her:

Therefore Ile watch him too, and straight about it;

But now I think on't, Ile sollicite him

By letter first, and meet him afterward.

Exit.

Actus Secundus.

Earthworm, Theodore.

Earth.

I Do not more rejoyce in all my stores,

My wealthy bags, fill'd garners, crowded chests,

And all the envy'd heaps that I have glean'd

With so long care and labor, then I do

In thy most frugal nature, Theodore,

Concurring just with mine; in thee, my son,

I see, methinks, a perpetuity

Of all the projects which my soul has hatch'd,

And their rich fruits, I see my happiness

[Page 10] When I consider what great hoords of wealth

With long care rak'd together, I have seen

Even in a moment scatter'd; when I view

The gawdy heirs of thriving Aldermen

Fleeting like short-liv'd bubbles into ayr,

And all that fire expiring in one blaze

That was so long a kindling. But doe thou,

Do thou my son, go on, and grow in thrift,

It is a vertue that rewards it self:

'Tis matterless in goodness who excels:

He that hath coyn, hath all perfections else

Theod,

Sir, I am wholly yours, and never can

Dege nerate from your frugality:

Or if my nature did a little stray,

Your good example would direct it still,

Till it were grown in me habitual.

Ear.

'Twill be a greater patrimony to thee

Then all my wealth: strive to be perfect in't,

Study the rules; one rule is general,

And that is this, Give away nothing, son,

For thrift is like a journy, every gift

Though nere so small, is a step back again.

He that would rise to riches or renown,

Must not regar, though he pull millions down.

The.

That lesson, Sir, is easie to be learn'd.

Ear.

Laugh at those fools that are ambitious

Of empty air, to be stil'd liberal;

That sell their substance for the breath of others,

And with the flattering thanks of idle drones

Are swell'd, while their more solid parts decay.

What cloathes to wear, the first occasion

Of wearing cloaths will reach a wise man best:

The.

True, Sir, It reacheth us how vain a thing

It is for men to take a pride in that

Which was at first the embleme of their shame.

Ear.

Thou hitt'st it right, but canst thou be content

With my poor diet too?

The.

Oh, wondrous well!

'Twas such a diet which that happy age

That Poets stile the golden, first did use.

Ear.

And such a diet to our chests will bring

The golden age again.

The.

Beside the gain

That flowes upon us, health and liberty

Attend on these bare meals; if all were blest

With such a temperance, what man would fawn,

Or to his belly fell his liberty?

There would be then no slaves, no sycophants

[Page 11] At great mens tables; if the base Samentus,

Or that vile Galba had been thus content,

They had not born the scoffs of Caesar's board.

He whose cheap thirst the springs and brooks can quench,

How many cares is he exempted from?

Hee's not indebted to the merchants toile,

Nor fears that Pyrates force, or stormes should rob him

Of rich Canatyes, or sweet Candyan wines:

He smels nor seeks no feasts, but in his own

True strength contracted lives, and there enjoyes

A greater freedome then the Parthian King.

Ear.

Thou mak'st me more in love with my blest life.

The

Besides, pure cheerful health ever attends it,

Which made the former ages live so long.

With riotous banquets sicknesses came in,

When death 'gan muster all his dismal band

Of pale diseases, such as Poets fain

Keep sentinel before the gates of hell,

And bad them wait about the gluttons tables;

Whom they, like venom'd pills, in sweetest wines

Deceive! swallow down, and hasten on

What most they would eschew, untimely death.

But from our tables here no painful surfets,

No fed diseases grow, to strangle nature,

And suffocate the active brain; no feavers,

No apoplexies, palsies or catarrhs

Are here, where nature not entic'd at all

With such a dangerous bait as pleafant cates

Takes in no more then she can govern well.

Ear.

But that which is the greatest comfort, son,

Is to observe, with pleasure our rich hoords

Dayly increase, and stuff the swelling bags:

Come, thou art mine, I see; here take these keys,

Keyes.

These keyes can shew thee such amazing plenty,

Whose very sight would feed a famish'd country.

I durst not trust my servants.

The.

Me you may,

Who equal with my life do prize your profit

Ear.

Well, Ile go in, I feel my self half sleepy

After the drinke I took.

The.

'Twill do you good, Sir.

Exit.

Work sweetly, gentle cordial, and restore

Those spirits again, which pining avarice

Has 'rest him of; ay me! how wondrous thin,

How lean and wan he looks! how much alas!

Has he defrauded his poor Genius,

In raking wealth? while the pale grisly sighs

Of famine dwell upon his aged cheeks.

[Page 12] Oh avarice! then thee a greater plague

Did nere infest the life of wretched man.

Heaven ayd my work; that rare extraction

Which he has drunk, beside the nourishment,

Will cast him in a safe and gentle sleep,

While I have liberty to work my ends,

And with his body's cure, a means Ile finde

To cure his fame, and which is more, his minde.

Enter Jasper.

Jasper?

Jasp. Sir.

Theod.

Are those disguises ready

Which, I bespoke?

Jasp.

They are all sitted Sir.

Theod.

Then at the hour which I appointed thee,

Invite those people Jasper, but be true

And secret to me.

Jasp.

As your own heart Sir.

The

Take this, I will reward thy service better,

Counters.

Assoon as these occasions are dispatch'd,

Jasp.

I thank you Sir. I have a letter for you

Letter.

Left here but now from Mr. Euphues,

Old Mr Freeman's nephew.

The.

Give it me,

I will anon peruse it, but my hast

Permits not now, Eugeny waits my coming.

Exit Theod.

Jasp.

I like this well yet, if I should prove false

To my old master for my young masters sake,

Who can accuse me? for the reason's plain

And very palpable, I feel it here:

This will buy ale, so will not all the hoords

Which my old master has: his money serves

For nothing but to look upon; but this

Knows what the common use of money is:

Well, for my own part, I'm resolv'd to do

Whatever he commands me, hee's too honest

To wrong his father in it; if he should,

The worst would be his own another day.

Exit.

Eugeny solus.

Eug.

Just thus in woods and solitary caves

The ancient hermits liv'd, but they liv'd happy.

And in their quiet contemplations found

More real comforts, then society

Of men could yeeld, then cities could afford,

Or all the lustres of a court could give;

But I have no such sweet preservatives

Against the sadness of this desert place.

I am my self a greater wilderness

Then are these woods, where honor and dismay

Make

[Page 13] Make their abodes, while different passions

By turns do reign in my distracted foul.

Fortune makes this conclusion general,

All things shall help th'unfortunate man to fall.

First, sorrow comes, and tells me I have done

A crime, whose foulness must deserve a sea

Of poenitent tears to wash me clean again;

Then fear steps in, and tels me if surpriz'd,

My wretched life is forfeit to the Law;

When these have done, enters the Tyrant Love,

And sets before me the fair Artemia,

Displayes her vertues and perfections,

Tels me, that all those graces, all those beauties

Suffer for me, for my unhappiness,

And wounds me more in her then in my self.

Ah Theodore! would I could ever sleep.

But when thou com'st; for in my self I find

No drop of comfort, welcome deatest friend.

Enter Theodore.

The.

Pardon the slowness of my visit, friend,

For such occasions have detain'd me hence,

As if thou knew'st, I know thou would'st excuse.

Eug.

I must confess, I thought the hours too long,

But the fruition of thy presence now

Makes me forget it all.

The.

Collect thy self,

Thou droop'st too much, my dearest Eugeny,

And art too harsh and sour a censurer

Of that unhappy crime, which thou were forc'd

Lately to act; I did allow in thee

That lawful sorrow that was fit, but let

Well grounded comforts cure thee; nought extream

Is safe in man.

Eug.

'Tis time must work that cure.

The.

But why thy pardon is not yet obtain'd,

Let me be free in my conjectures to thee.

Eug.

Speak, friend, as to thy self.

The. Sir Argent Scrape

Your old rich kinsman, who to morrow morning

Is to be married to the Lady Covet.

Eug.

Is that match come about? oh avarice!

What monsters thou begett'st in this vile age!

The. Sr. Argent Scrape,

I say, is next heir male

On whom thy whole estate was long ago

Entail'd.

Eug.

'Tis true.

The.

He must inherit it

Should thy life fail.

Eug.

'Tis granted.

The.

Then, friend, hear,

What not a bare conjecture, but strong grounds

Move me to utter; think upon that word

[Page 14] Thou spok'st so lately, thinke what avarice

Can make her bondmen do, that such a price

As sifteen hundred pounds a year, will make

Him labor not thy pardon, but thy death.

Eug.

Can there be such a miscreant in nature?

The.

I should not thinke so, if I weigh'd him only

As hee's thy kinsman, I have been inform'd

He labors under hand to apprehend thee

Just at the assizes now, and has layd plots

To stop all pardons, which in that short time

Might be procur'd; and then what bribes may do

In hastening execution, doe but consider:

If this be false, some Courtiers have abus'd

His fame. And pardon me, my dearest friend,

If I suspect the worst for fear of thee.

Eug.

When I consi [...]er what accurst effects

Proceed from wretched avarice, I begin

To feel a fear.

The.

This very age hath given

Horrid examples lately, brothers have been

Betray'd by brothers in that very kinde:

When pardons have been got by the next heirs,

They have arriv'd too late. No tie so neer,

No band so sacred, but the cursed hunger

Of gold has broken't, and made wretched men

To fly from nature, mock religion,

And trample under feet the holyest Laws.

Eug.

He has been ever noted for that vice,

Which with his age, has still grown stronger in him.

The.

Ah Eugeny! how happy were that last

Age of a man, when long experience

Has taught him knowledge, taught him temperance,

And freed him from so many loose desires

In which rash youth is plung'd, were not this vice:

But heark, heark friend, what ravishing sound is that?

Eug.

Ha! wondrous sweet! 'tis from th'adjoyning thicket.

Song.

This is not the Elysian Grove,
Nor can I meet my slaughter'd Love
Within these shades; come death, and be
At last as mercifull to me,
As in my dearest Scudmore's fall,
[Page 15] Thou shew'dst thy self tyrannical.
Then did I die, when he was slain:
But kill me now, I live again;
And shall go meet him in a grove,
Fairer then any here, above.

Oh! let this woful breath expire:
Why should I wish Evadue's fire,
Sad Portia's coals, or Lucrece knife,
To rid me of a loathed life?
'Tis shame enough that grief alone,
Kils me not now, when thou art gone.
But life, since thou art slow to go,
Ile punish thee for lasting so,
And make thee piece-meal every day,
Dissolve to tears and melt away.

The.

Ah Eugeny! some heavenly nymph descends

To make thee musick in these desert woods,

To quench or feed thy baleful melancholy:

It is so sweet, I could almost beleeve,

But that 'tis sad, it were an Angel's voice.

Eug.

What in the name of miracle is this?

The.

Remove not thou; Ile make discovery

Within this thicket.

Eug.

Ha! what means thy wonder?

What dost thou see?

The.

I know not how to tell thee;

Now I could wish my self to be all eyes,

As erst all ears. I see a shape as fair

And as divine as was the voyce it sent;

But clouded all with sorrow: a fair woman,

If by a name so mortal I may term her.

In such a sorrow sate the queen of Love,

When in the woods she wail'd Adonis death,

And from her crystal-dropping eyes did pay

A Lovers obsequy.

Eug.

Let me come neer.

The.

Sure, black is Cupid's colour; death and he

Have chang'd their liveries now, as in the fable

They did their quivers once.

Eug.

Ah! woe is me!

The.

What means that woe?

Eug.

Ah Theodore!

my guilt

Pursues me to the woods, no place can keep

The monuments of my misdeeds away.

The.

I understand you not.

Eug.

It is Matilda

The slaughter'd Scudmore's Love, his vertuous Love.

[Page 16] Whose life by me unhappily was spilt.

The sad melodious ditty, which so late

Did pierce our ravish'd ears, was but the note

Of this fair turtle, for her slaughter'd mate:

In which (perchance) amidd'st her woes, she sends

Black curses up against my spotted self.

But I with prayers and blessings will repay

What ere thou ven'st'gainst me. Oh! do not wish

More wretchedness to my distracted soul

Then I already feel. Sad sighs and tears

Are all the satisfaction that is left

For me to make to thy dead Love and thee.

The.

Those lips can vent no curses; 'twould take off

Much from the sweetness of her vertuous sorrow.

Where lives this lovely maid?

Eug.

In the next village.

The.

Has she a father living?

Eug.

No friend, he died

When she was in her infancy; her mother

Two yeers ago deceas'd, and left her all

The substance that she had, which was not great,

But does maintain her: in that little house

Ere since this fatal accident, she lives

A miracle of truth and constancy,

Wayling her Loves, and now it seems was come

To vent her woful passions to the woods.

The.

How happy had he been in such a Love,

If fate had spar'd his life! but he is dead,

Aside.

And time at last may wear this sorrow off,

And make her rellish the true joyes of love.

But why do I thus wander in my thoughts?

This passion must be cub'd in the beginning,

'Twill prove too stubborn for me if it grow.

Eug.

Come, let us to my cave, as we intended,

Ere this sad object stayd us.

The.

Sad indeed,

Beleeve me friend, I suffer with thee in it.

But we were wounded in two different kindes.

Come, let's be gone, though I could still dwell here.

Exeunt.

Enter Matilda.

Mat.

Methought I heard a noise within the wood,

As if men talk'd together not far off,

But could discover none. The time has been

In such a solitary place as this

I should have trembled at each moving leaf;

But sorrow and my miserable state

Have made me bold. If there be savages

That live by rapine in such woods as these,

[Page 17] As I have heard in ancient times there were,

My wretched state would move their pity rather

Then violence. Ile confidently go,

Guarded with nothing but my innocence.

Exit.

Enter Fruitful, Trusty.

Fru.

Come, master Steward, you have had a time

Of sweating for this wedding.

Tru.

I have tane

A little pains to day, your's Mr. Fruitful

Is yet to come, I mean your sermon

Fru.

Yes, but the pains are past, and that's the study.

But to our business that more concerns us:

Is the deed realy written that my Lady

Must seal to day?

Tru.

Do you beleeve shee'l seal it?

Fru.

I warrant you, I have so follow'd her,

And layd it to her conscience, that I dare

Hazard my life 'tis done.

Tru.

Well, here's the deed,

'Tis plainly written

Fru.

Ile peruse't anon.

I know the other feoffees are as true

And honest men as any are i'th' world.

Exit Trusty.

Enter Freeman, Euphues, Barnet, Dotterel, Lady Whimsey.

Free.

Save you, Mr. Fruitful.

Fru.

Worthy Mr. Freeman.

Free.

How does my Lady Sir? I have made bold

To bring her company.

Fru.

Please you draw neer Sir,

I will goe up and signifie unto my Lady

Exit Fruit.

That you are here

Bar.

What's he? her Chaplain, Euphues?

Eup.

Oh, yes,

Lad.

She uses praying then it seems

Eup.

Yes, Madam, and fasting too, but gives no alms.

Lad.

Cannot he teach her that?

Eup.

'Tis to be doubted:

But he has other wayes which are far safer,

To speak against the fashion, against painting,

Or fornication; if he were your Chaplain,

He would inveigh as much 'gainst covetousness.

Lad.

He would hurt me little in that: but has he learning?

Euph.

No surely, Madam, he is full of knowledge

But has no learning at all; he can expound,

But understands nothing: One thing in him

Is excellent, though he doe hate the Bishops,

He would not make them guilty of one sin,

Which was to give him orders, for he hates

Orders as much as them.

Free.

Well, I have heard

Though he came lately to her, he has got

A great hand over her, and swayes her conscience

Which way he list.

Eup.

Uncle, 'tis very easie

[Page 18] To rule a thing so weak as is her conscience,

Ile undertake that a twin'd thread would doe it

As well as a strong cable; if he could

Rule her estate too, he would have a place on't.

Free.

Why that will follow tother.

Euph.

I thinke not,

Rather her conscience follows her estate;

Oppression had not else increas'd it so

She wrong'd a worthy of mine, young Scudmore,

And by meer fraud and bribery took away

His whole estate, five hundred pound a yeer.

Free.

I must confess, 'twas a foul cause indeed,

And he poor man lack'd means to prosecute

The cause against her. But he feels it not

At this time, nephew.

Bar.

Was't that Scudmore, Sir,

Whom Eugeny Sir Argent Scrap [...]s young kinsman

Unfortunately kill'd?

Free

The same. Well, let

All these things pass, we come now to be merry.

Lad.

Let's eat up her good chear; a niggards feast,

Is best they say.

Dot.

Shall we have wine good store?

Bar.

Oh! fear not that.

Dot

Hold belly, hold, yfaith?

Bar.

Yes, and brain too.

Dot.

Nay, for my braine

Let me alone, I fear not that, no wine

Can hurt my braine.

Lad.

Say you so, Mr. Dotterel?

Why such a braine I love

Dot.

Madam, I am glad

I had it for you,

Lad.

For me, Sir?

Dot.

Yes, Lady,

'Tis at your service, so is the whole body.

Did I not tickle her there, old Lad?

Bar.

Yes, rarely.

Lad.

Shall I presume to call you servant then?

Dot.

Oh Lord! Madam! if I were worthy to be!

Lad.

Nay, I know you have good courtship, servant,

Wear this for my sake.

Dot.

'Tis your livery, Madam.

Sca [...].

Bar.

Well, th'art a happy man, if thou knew'st all.

Euph.

Madam, I see your Ladyship can tell

How to make choice in dealing of your favors.

Dot.

It pleases you to say so, good Mr. Euphues.

Euph.

Why Sir, I speak but of the Ladyes judgment.

Dot.

'Twas more of her curtesie then my desert.

Enter Lady Covet on crutches.

Euph.

Here comes the Lady bride.

Free.

Joy to your Ladyship.

Lad. Cov.

I thanke you Sir, yo'are very welcome all.

Free.

I have made bold to bring my friends along

As you commanded Lady.

Lad. Cov.

They are most welcome.

Euph.

Me thinks your Ladyship looks fresh to day,

And like a bride indeed.

Lad. Cov.

Ah Mr. Euphues!

You I perceive can flatter.

Euph.

Does your glass

[Page 19] Tell you I slatter Madam?

Lad. Cov.

Bestow this

Upon young mayds, but let me tell you, Sir,

Old folks may marry too, it was ordain'd

At first be as well a stay to age,

As to please youth; we have our comforts too,

Though we be old.

Euph.

Madam, I doubt it not:

You are not yet so old, but you may have

Your comfort well, and if Sir Ar [...]nt Scrape

Were but one threescore yeers younger then h'is

Bar.

What a strange but thou mak'st? Eup You would perceive it.

Lad. Whi.

Servant, could you finde in your heart to marry

Such an old bride?

Dot.

No mistress, I protest

I had rather have none.

Lad. Whi.

What age would you desire

To chuse your wife of?

Dot.

Just as old as you are.

Lad. Whim.

Well, servant, I beleeve you can dissemble.

Lad. Cov.

Wil't please you to draw neer? Sir Argent stayes

Expecting within.

Free.

Wee'l wait upon you.

Exeunt

Manent Barnet, Dottrel.

Bar.

To what strange fortune, friend, are some men born?

I mean by thee; surely when thou wert young,

The fayries dandled thee.

Dot.

Why prethee Barnet?

Bar.

That Ladyes thus should doat upon thy person:

Dost thou not see how soon the Lady Whimsey

Is caught in love with thee?

Dot

But is she think'st thou?

Bar.

Is she? Come, thou perceiv'st it well enough;

What else should make her court thee, and bestow

Her favors openly? and such a Lady

So full of wit as she is too, would she

Betray the secrets of her heart so far,

But that Love playes the Tyrant in her brest,

And forces her?

Dot.

True, and as thou sayest, Barnet,

Shee's a brave witty Lady, and I love

A wit with all my heart. What would she say

If she should know me truly, that thus loves,

And thinkes I am but a poor younger brother?

Bar.

Why still the greater is thy happiness,

Thou may'st be sure she loves thee truly now,

And not thy fortunes.

Dot.

Has she found me out

For all I sought to hide my self?

Bar.

The more

Thy worth appears, the more her judgment's seen.

Oh! 'tis a gallant Lady! Well, she might

Have cast her eye on me, of Euphues,

But 'twas not our good fortune.

Dot.

Doe not despair,

Some other woman may love thee as well,

Come, thou hast worth, Barnet, as well as I.

Bar.

[Page 20]

Nay, nay, abuse not your poor friends, but tell me

What dost thou thinke of young Artemia now?

Dot.

Of her! a foolish girl, a simple thing,

Shee'd make a pretty wife for me: I confess

I courted her, but she had not the wit

To finde out what I was for all my talke.

Bar.

And that was strange she should not, but 'tis fate

That governs marriages

Dot.

Let her repent,

And know what she hath lost, when 'tis too late.

But dost thou thinke this gallant Lady Whimsey

Will marry me?

Bar.

Mak'st thou a doubt of that?

'Tis thy own fault boy, if thou hast her not.

Dot.

That I protest it shall not be; but tell me,

Shall I express my love to her in verse

Or prose?

Bar.

In which you will.

Dot.

I am alike

At both of them indeed.

Bar.

I know thou art.

Dot.

Come, let's goe in.

Bar.

Thou long'st to see thy mistress.

Dot.

Wee'l drink her health in a crown'd cup, my Lad. Exeuat.

Actus Tertius.

Theodore, Neighbours. Sacks.

The.

COme neighbours, pray draw neer; my fellow Jasper

Has told you wherefore you were sent for hither.

1. Nei.

I, I thank you friend.

2. Nei.

And my good master too.

The.

My master touch'd with sorrow and remorse

For that unhappy error of his life,

That fault (alas!) which by too true a name

Is termed misery, determines now

By deeds of tender charity, to make

The wronged poor amends, and to the world

Declare the fruits of a reformed life.

An I first your pardon, neighbours, he would beg,

And next to Heaven, be reconcil'd to you.

1. Nei.

Now blessing on his heart.

2. Nei.

Good tender soul!

3. Neig.

I ever thought him a right honest man.

The.

He that before did churlishly engross

And lock those blessings up, which from the hand

Of Heaven were show [...]'d upon him, has at last

Found their true use, and will hencesorth redeem

[Page 21] The former mispent time. His wealthy stores

Shall be no longer shut against the poor;

His bags seal'd up no longer, to debar

The course of fitting bounty. To you all

Of corn and money, weekly he'll allow

In recompense a greater quantity

By far, then men of greater rank shall do:

Nor will he come himself to take your thanks,

Till, as he sayes, he has deserv'd them better.

Mean time by me, he pours his bounty forth,

Which he desires with greatest secrecy

May be perform'd; for all vaing lorious showes

And oftentation does his soul abhor:

He sounds no trumpet to bestow his almes,

Nor in the streets proclaimes his charity;

Which makes the vertue vice, not would he have

The world take notice of you at his doors.

1. Nei.

See, see, religious man!

2. Neig.

Ah neigbour!

Some in the world have been mistaken in him

The.

Nor would he have you blaze his bounty forth,

And prayse him openly. Forbear it, neighbours;

Your private prayers only he desires,

And hearty wishes: for true charity

Though nere so secret, findes a just reward.

I am his servant newly entertain'd,

But one to whom he does commit the trust

Of his desires in this, and I should wrong

His goodness strangely, if I should keep back

The least of what his bounty doth intend.

Come in with me, Ile fill your sacks with corn,

And let you see what money he bestows.

Omnes Neig.

We'll pray to Heaven to reward his goodness. Exeutn.

Euphues, Barnet.

Euph.

Our Dotterel then is caught?

Bar.

He is, and just

As Dotterels use to be: the Lady first

Advanc'd toward him, stretch'd forth her wing, and he

Met her with all expressions, and is caught

As fast in her lime-twigs as he can be

Until the Church confirm it.

Euph.

There will be

Another brave estate for her to spend.

Bar.

Others will be the better for't, and if

None but a Dotterel suffer for't, what loss

Of his can countervail the least good fortune

That may from thence blow to another man?

Euph.

She spent her tother husband a great fortune.

Bar.

Dotterel's estate will finde her work again

[Page 22] For a great while; two thousand pounds a yeer

Cannot be melted suddenly; when 'tis,

Men can but say, her prodigality

Has done an act of justice, and translated

That wealth which fortunes blindness had misplac'd

On such a fellow; what should he doe with it?

Euph.

And thou say'st right, some men were made to be

The conduit pipes of an estate, or rather

The sives of fortune, through whose leaking holes

She means to scatter a large flood of wealth,

Besprinkling many with refreshing showers:

So usurers, so dying Aldermen

Pour out at once upon their sive-like heirs

Whole gusts of envy'd wealth; which they together

Through many holes let out again in showers,

And with their ruine water a whole country.

But will it surely be a match?

Bar.

As sure

As the two old death's-heads to morrow morning

Are to be joyn'd together.

Euph.

Who, Sir Argent

And his Lady?

Bar.

Yes, if she keep touch

In what she promis'd me, Ile undertake

Her Dotterel shall be sure, and given to her

In matrimony.

Euph.

Given to his wife?

I see thou mean'st in Dotterel to bring back

The ancient Spanish custome, where the women

Inherited the land, rul'd the estates:

The men were given in marriage to the women

With portions, and had joyntures made to them:

Just so will be his case, he will be marryed

Unto a brave subjection: How the fool

Is caught in his own noose! what confidence

Had he, that he would never marry any

But such forsooth, as must first fall in love

With him, not knowing of his wealth at all?

Bar.

Well, now he's fitted: he begun at first

With fair Artemia.

Euph.

He might have told

Her of his wealth, and mist her too, or else

I am deceiv'd in her; true vertuous love

Cannot be bought so basely: she besides

Has been in love, I'm sure, and may be still,

Though he be fled the land. But now I thinke on't.

I must go see whether old Earthworms son

Have yet perform'd what she desir'd; she stays

At home

Bar.

He in, and see how Dotterel

Counts his brave mistress: I left him composing

A sonnet to her. There are the old couple

[Page 23] Within too.

Euph.

If a man could get to heare

Their way of courting, 'twould be full as strange

As Dotterel's is ridiculous: but stay.

Sir Argent Scrape, Lady Covet, brought in chaires.

Here comes the lovely Bride and Bridegroom forth:

Prithee let's venture to stay here a little

Behinde the hangings man; we shall be sure

To heare their love; they are both somewhat deafe,

And must speak lowd.

Bar.

Content, He stay with thee.

S. Arg.

Leave us a while; now, Madam, you have seene

So have your learned counsel, that I deal

Squarely with you; my personal estate

Is no lesse worth then I profest, when first

I mov'd my loving suit.

Bar.

I marry, Sir,

A loving suit indeed.

Euph.

Let um go on

In their own proper dialect.

La. Co.

I finde it,

And should be loath but to require your truth

In the same kinde; you seem'd at first to question

How strong my title was in that estate

Which was yong Scudmore's once; 'tis a fair mannor.

Euph.

'Tis true, old rottennesse, too good for you.

La. Co.

My counsel can enforme you that I kept it,

And did enjoy possession while he liv'd;

And now he's dead, who should recover it?

The heires are poore and beggarly. S. Arg. Nay, I think

We neede not feare their suing against us.

La. Co.

If they should stirre, a little piece of money

Would stop their mouths.

Euph.

A little piece of durt

Will stop your mouth ere long, and then the suit

Will goe against thee, mischief.

Bar.

Prithee peace;

Thou art not merry now, but cholericke.

Euph.

I think of my wrong'd frend.

La Co.

But you were saying

You made no doubt but shortly to enjoy

Your kinsman Eugeny's estate; that were

A fair addition to your land; they say

It goes at fifteen hundred pound a year.

S. Arg.

'Tis true, and 'tis well worth it.

La. Co.

But what hopes

Have you to gain it shortly?

S. Arg.

He, you know

By Scudmore's death has forfeited his life

Unto the law; and the estate's entail'd

On me as the next heir.

La. Co.

But he is fled.

S. Arg.

No, no, I know he lurks not farre from hence,

And I shall shortly learne the very place

By some intelligence: I have provided

My secret scouts; and then you know th'assizes

[Page 24] Are now at hand; the time will be too short

To get a pardon, specially as I

Have lay'd some friends to stall it underhand.

Euph.

Here's a new mischief Barnet.

Bar.

And a strange one.

Lad. Cov.

And then you must not spare a little money

To hasten execution at an hour

Unusual; those things may well be done,

Else what were money good for?

Sir. Arg.

You say right.

If 'twere once come to that, I fear it not.

Lad. Cov.

Well, Sir, I see all's right and straight between us;

You understand how welcome you are hither,

I need not tell it o'er again.

Sir Arg.

No, Lady,

I will be bold to say, I doe not come

Now as a stranger, but to take possession

Both of your house and you.

Euph.

He cannot speak

Out of that thriving language in his love.

Lad. Cov.

Will you goe in again? our guests perhaps

Thinke the time long.

Sir Arg.

With all my heart:

A cup of sack would not doe much amiss.

Lad. Cov.

We'll have it with a toast. Who's neer there, ho!

Enter Servant, and carry them out.

Bar.

What a strange kinde of pageant have we seen?

Euph. Barnet,

I cannot tell, whether such strange

Unsatiable desires in these old folks

That are half earth already, should be thought

More impious, or more ridiculous.

Bar.

They are both alike.

Euph.

But a monstrous

Unnatural plot as his, to apprehend

His kinsman, I nere heard of; If I knew

Where Eugeny remain'd, though 'twere his fortune

To kill a friend of mine, I'd rescue him

From this unnatural and wolvish man.

Bar.

That would betray his life to satisfie

His avarice, not justice of the Law.

Enter Dotterel, Lady Whimsey.

Here comes another piece of matrimony

That may be shortly.

Euph.

'Tis better far then tother;

They are the last couple in hell.

Dot.

Save you gallants.

Bar.

You are the gallant, Sir, that on your arm

Do wear the trophies of a conquer'd Lady.

Euph.

Madam, I had almost mistaken my salutation,

And bid, God give you joy.

Lad. Whim.

Of what I prethee?

Euph.

Of this young gallant, call him by what name

Or title you are pleas'd, husband or servant.

Bar.

[Page 25]

He may be both, Sir, he is not the first

Has been a husband and a servant too.

Dot.

I am her servant, Sir, and I confess

Have an ambition, and so forth.

Lad. Whim.

How now servant?

Euph.

I tell you truly, Madam, 'tis reported

(And those reports are fatal still you know)

That Mr. Dotterel and you are purpos'd

To bear th'old Knight and Lady company

Tomorrow to the Church.

Lad. Whim.

That I confesse.

And so will you I thinke

Euph.

Nay, but to do

As they do Madam, ty the lasting knot.

Lad. Whim.

Do you heare, servant? this it is to have

So proper a servant, every one supposes

I must needes be in love.

Dot.

I would you were

As deepe in Cupid's bookes as I.

Euph.

That is

In Cupid's favour. You are a happy man.

Lad. Whim.

My servant has been searching Cupid's bookes

I thinke, to finde that Sonner that he gave me.

Are you content that I should shew your poetry?

Dot.

Do Mistris, I am not asham'd on't.

But you shall give me leave to read it to um.

'Tis but a Sonnet, Gentlemen, that I fitted

To my fair Mistris here.

Euph.

Let us be happy

To heare it Sir.

Dot.

Take it as it is:

A paper.

Deare, do not your fair beauty wrong,

He reades.

In thinking still you are too yong.

—Euph.

How! too yong!

Bar.

Let him alone, I know the song.

Dot.

The rose and lillies in youre cheeke

Flourish, and no more ripenesse seeke.

Your cherry-lip red, soft, and sweete,

Proclaimes such fruit for tast most meete.

Then lose no time, for love has wings,

And flies away from aged things.

How do you it like, Gentlemen?

Euph.

very well.

The song's a good one.

Bar.

Oh monstrous!

Never man stole with so little judgement.

Euph.

Of all the love-songs that were ever made,

He could not have chose out one more unfit,

More palpably unfit; that must betray

His most ridiculous theft.

Lad. Whim.

Who would have thought

My Servant should suppose, I think my self

Too yong to love, that have already had

[Page 26] One husband.

Euph.

Oh excuse him, gentle Madam,

He found it in the song

Bar.

And it should seeme

He could get not other song but this.

Lad. Whim.

Surely, a woman of five and thirty year old,

Is not too yong to love.

Bar.

Oh spare him, Madam.

Euph.

Let's raise him up; I think the Sonnet's good,

There's somewhat in 't to th' purpose; read it again.

Euph.

—For tast most meete.

He reades it.

Very good; and there he tickled it.

Mark'd you that, Madam? the two last of all?

Then lose no time, for love hath wings

He gives you fitting counsel.

Lad. Whim.

Yes, I like it.

Dot.

I thought when they understood it, they would like it.

I am sure, I have heard this song prais'd ere now.

Lad Whim.

This doe's deserve a double favour, servant.

Dot.

Let this be the favour, sweete Mistres,

Kisses.

Euph.

How some mens poetry happens to be rewarded!

Lad. Whim.

Shall we goe in? but prithee Euphues

What is the reason sweet Artenia

Thy Cozen is not here?

Euph.

I know not, Madam,

But her pretence was businesse; I am going

To visit her: if you goe in to keepe

Th'old couple company, Ile fetch her to you.

Lad. Whim.

I prithee do, farewell; come servant,

Shall we goe in?

Dot.

He wait upon you, Mistres.

Exeunt.

Theodore. Artemia.

Theod

I Will acquaint him, Lady, with the hour,

And to his longing eare deliver all

Your sweete salutes; which is the only aire

Of life and comfort Eugeny takes in.

Your constant love and vertues, sweetest Lady,

Are those preservatives, which from his heart

Expel the killing fits of melancholy,

And do in spite of fortune quicken him.

Art.

Oh would those comforts could arrive at him,

That from my wishing thoughts are hourly sent.

Theod.

Such vertuous wishes seldome are in vain.

Art.

I should be farre more sad in the behalf

Of my deare Eugeny, but that I knew

He does enjoy your sweet society,

Which he beyond all value does esteem.

Theod

His own is recompence enough for mine,

And I the gainer in it; did not grief

For his misfortune stain that perfect joy

Which I could take in his deare company

Art.

[Page 27]

If I should speak, Sir, how he values you,

I should too much oppresse your modesty.

Theod.

Our fri [...]ndship fairest Lay, is more old,

And he more true then that his heart so long

Should be unknown to me. He not be long.

Before I visit him, to let him know

What hour shall make him happy in your sight.

My longer stay, sweete Lady, might be more

Observ'd, and pry'd into. Let me be bold

To leave you now, but be your servant ever.

Art.

All happinesse attend you, worthy Sir,

Exit Theodore.

Would I my self might goe as well as send,

And see that seeming solitary place,

That place of woe. Sure it would be to me

No desert wood while Eugeny were there,

But a delightful palace. Here at home,

The more that company comes in, the more

I am alone methinkes; wanting that object

On which my heart is fix'd, I cannot be

Possest of any thing. Nothing can be

My comfort, but a hope that these sad clouds

Of our misfortunes will at last blow over.

But mischief's like a cockatrices eyes,

Sees first, and kils; or is seene first, and dies.

Enter Euphues.

Euph.

How dost thou, Couz'? I wrot a letter for thee

To Earthwormes sonne; has the yong ten i'th' hundred

Been here?

Art.

I thank you, Cozen, the Gentleman

Was with me, and but newly parted hence

Euph.

H' has got a title then by coming hither,

But he may be a Gentleman; his wealth

Will make it good.

Art.

His vertues make it good;

Believe it Cozen, there's a wealthy minde

Within that plain outside.

Euph.

How is this?

Have your quick-eyes found out his worth already?

Art.

They must be blinde that cannot, when they know him.

Well Cozen, you may laugh at me.

Euph.

By no meanes.

I know your judgment's good.

Art.

As good as 'tis,

It must content a woman. When you know him,

You 'll finde a man that may deserve your friendship,

And farre above all slighting.

Euph.

I am sorry

I came not soone enough; but prethee, Cozen,

What are the wayes have taken thee so soone?

Art.

What taking do you meane? you promis'd me

You would not ask the cause I sent for him.

[Page 28] Though you shall know hereafter. But I hope.

You do not thinke I am in love with him.

Euph.

I'll looke upon the man, and then resolve you.

Arte.

Well, do; perhaps you'll know him better then.

He knowes you well.

Euph.

Me? has he told you how?

Art.

Did you nere meet one Theodore at Venice?

Euph.

Can this be he?

Art.

Yes, very well: although

He be old Earthworms sonne, and make no shew

At home.

Euph.

And have you found out so much worth

In him already?

Art.

How do you esteeme him?

We women well may erre.

Euph.

I smell a rat;

And if my brain faile not, have found out all

Your drifts, though nere so politickely carry'd

Art.

I know your brain Cozen is very good,

But it may faile.

Euph.

It comes into my head

What old Sir Agent Scrape told to his Lady,

Aside.

His kinsman Eugeny lurk'd hereabouts;

He was her sweet-heart once, and may be still;

I think she's constant; though she keep it close.

This Theodore and he were fam'd for friendship.

I have collected, Cozen, and have at you.

Art.

Let's hear it, pray.

Euph.

You shall; this Theodore

I do confesse a most deserving man;

And so perchance your lover Eugeny

Has told you, Cozen! ha? do you begin

To blush already? I am sure those two

Were most entirely friends. And I am sorry

To heare what I have heard to day, concerning

Young Eugeny.

Art.

What, prethee Cozen? tell me.

Euph.

Now you are mov'd; but I may erre you know

Art.

Good Cozen tell me what.

Euph.

Nay, I believe

I shall worse startle you; though you would make

Such fooles as I beleeve he is in France.

Yes, yes, it may be so; and then you know

He's safe enough.

Art.

Oh Cozen, Ile confesse

What you would have me, do but tell me this.

Euph.

Nay, now, I will not thank you; I have found it.

And though you dealt in riddles so with me,

Ile plainely tell you all; and teach how

You may perchance prevent your lovers danger.

Art.

Oh I shall ever love you;

Euph.

Well, come in;

Ile tell you all, and by what meanes I knew it.

Finis Actus Tertii.

[Page 29]

Actus Quartus.

Earthworme, Iasper.

Earth.

OUt villain! how could any fire come there

But by thy negligence? I do not use

To keepe such flies, as should at all endanger

My house, much lesse my barne.

Ias.

I know not Sir,

But there I'm sure it was, and still continues,

Though without danger now; for the poore people

E [...]e this have quench'd it.

Earth.

There my wonder lyes.

Why should the people come to quench my fire?

Had it been in a city, where one house

Might have endanger'd all, it justly then

Might have engag'd the peoples utmost aide,

And I nere bound to give them thanks at all.

But my house stands alone, and could endanger

No other building. Why should all the people

Come running hither so to quench the fire?

They love not me.

Ias.

Sure Sir, I cannot tell;

Perhaps the people knew not what to do,

And might be glad to see a sight.

Earth.

Me thought

As I came by I saw them wondrous busy,

Nay more, me thought I heard them pray for me,

As if they lov'd me. Why should they do so?

I nere deserv'd it at the people hands.

Goe Iasper, tell me whether it be quench'd,

And all secure; I long to heare the newes.

Enter Theodore.

Theo.

The fire is quench'd, and little hurt is done.

I come to bring you happy tidings Sir.

Earth.

That's well, my sonne.

Theo.

But Sir, if you had seene

How the poore people labour'd to effect it,

And like so many Salamanders rush'd

Into the fire, scorching their cloaths and beards,

You would have wonder'd justly, and have thought

That each man toil'd to save his fathers house,

Or his owne deare estate; but I conceive

'Twas nothing but an honest charity

[Page 30] That wrought it in them.

Earth.

Had a charity?

Why should that charity be shew'd to me?

Theod.

If I mistake not strangely, he begins

To apprehend it

Earth.

As I came along,

I heard them pray for me; but those good prayers

Can never pierce the skyes in my behalf,

But will returne again, and ever lodge

Within those honest breasts, that sent them forth.

Theod.

Surely it workes.

Earth.

Oh! all the world but I

Are honest men.

Theod.

What is't that troubles you?

Your goods are safe; there's nothing lost at all.

You should rejoice methinkes. You might have sufferr'd

A wondrous losse in your estate.

Earth.

Ah sonne!

[...] not the thought of what I might have lost

That drawes these teares from me.

Theod.

Doe's he not weepe?

Or do my flattering hopes deceive my sight?

He weepes, and fully too; large showers of teares

Bedew his aged cheekes. Oh happy sorrow

That makes me weepe for joy! never did sonne

So justly glory in a fathers teares.

Sir, you are sad methinkes.

Earth.

No sadnesse, sonne,

Can be enough to expiate the crimes

That my accursed avarice has wrought.

Where are the poore?

Theod.

Why, Sir, what would you do?

Earth.

Aske me not, Theodore; alas, I feare

Thou art too much my sonne; my bad example

Has done thee much more harme then all the large

Encrease of treasure I shall leave behinde

Can recompence. But leave those wreteched thoughts,

And let me teach thee a new lesson now;

But thou art learned Theodore, and soone

Wilt finde the reasons of it.

Theod.

Do you please

To speake it, Sir, and I will strive to frame

My self to follow.

Earth.

Where are all the poore?

Iasper, goe call them in. Now prethee learne,

(For this late accident may truly teach

A man what value he should set on wealth)

Fire may consume my houses, theeves may steale

My plate and jewels; all my merchandise

Is at the mercy of the windes and seas;

And nothing can be truly term'd mine own,

But what I make mine own by using well.

Those deedes of charity which we have done,

Shall stay for ever with us; and that wealth

Which we have so bestow'd, we onely keepe;

The other is not ours.

Theod.

Sir, your have taught me

[Page 31] Not to give any thing ar all away.

Earth.

When I was blinde, my sonne, and did miscal

My sordid vice of avarice true thrift.

But now forget that lesson, I prethee do;

That consening vice, although it seeme to keepe

Our wealth, debars us from possessing it.

And makes us more then poore.

Theod.

How farre beyond

All hope, my happy project workes upon him!

Enter Neighbours.

Earth.

Y'are welcome Neighbours, welcome heartily.

I thank you all, and will hereafter study

To recompence your undeserved love.

My house shall stand more open to the poore,

More hospitable, and my wealth more free

To feed and cloath the naked hungry soules.

I will redeem the ill that I have done,

(If heaven be pleas'd to spare me life a while)

With true unfained deedes of charity.

1 Neigh.

We thank your worship.

2 Neigh.

We know ful well

Your worship has a good heart toward us.

Earth.

Alas, you do not know it, but have had

Too sad a cause to know the contrary:

Pray do not thank me till you truly finde

How much my heart is chang'd from what it was;

Till you by real and substantial deedes

Shall see my peaitence, and be fully taught

How to forget or pardon all the errours

Of that my former miserable life.

Iasper, go in with them; the way

Into my house.

Ias.

I think I had need to shew um;

No poore folkes heretofore have us'd this way.

Earth.

And Ile come to you, Neighbours, presently.

1 Neigh.

Long may you live.

2 Neigh.

All happinesse betide you.

3 Neigh.

And a reward fourfold in th'other world.

Earth.

How dost thou like this musicke, Theodore?

I meane the hearty prayers of the poore,

Whose curses pierce more then two-edged swords.

What comfort like to this, can riches give!

What joy can be so great, as to be able

To feede the hungry, cloath the naked man?

Theod.

Now, Sir, you think aright; for to bestow

Is greater pleasure farre then to receive.

Earth.

No vice, so much as avariace, deprives

Our life of sweetest comforts, and debarres

So much the fair society of men.

[Page 32] I taught thee once faire otherwise; but now

Study this last and better lesson, sonne

Thod.

With more delight then ere I did the former.

You never yet knew scholar covetous.

Earth.

And now I think on't, Theodore, I have

A neece, the daughter of my only sister,

Her mother dy'd a widow two years since.

How shee has left her orphan daughter there

I do not know; if she have left her ill,

Ile be a father to her; prethee, goe

Enquire her out, and bring her to my house,

How well soere the world may goe with her.

Bountie's spice of vertue, whoso can,

And won't, relieve the poore, he is no man.

Theod.

Where lives shee, Sir?

Earth.

'Tis not a mile from hence,

In the next village; thou nere saw'st her yet;

But fame has spoke her for a vertuous maide.

Yong Scudmore, while he liv'd, and was possest

Of his estate, thought to have marry'd her;

Whose death (they say) shee takes most heavily,

And with a wondrous constant sorrow mournes.

The.

Sure 'tis the same faire maid.

Earth.

Her name's Matilda.

Theod.

The very same; I can enquire her out,

And, if you please, will presently about it.

Earth.

Do, while I my Neighbours visit: he doth live

Mighty, that hath the power and will to give.

Theod.

This is the same faire nightingal that tun'd

Her sweet sad accents lately to the woods,

And did so farre enthral my heart; but that

Fond love is vanished. Like a kinsman now

Ile comfort her, and love her vertuous soule.

Oh what a blessed change this day has wrought

In my old father's heart! you powers that gave

Those thoughts, continue them: this day will I

Still celebrate as my nativity.

Exit.

Lady Covet. Fruitful.

La. Cov.

But is that lawful to convey away

All my estate before I marry him?

Fruit.

'Tis more then lawful, Madam, I must tell you

'Tis necessary, and you Ladyship

Is bound in conscience so to do, for else

'Twill be no longer yours, but all is his

When he has marry'd your. You cannot then

Dispose of any thing to pious uses;

[Page 33] You cannot shew your charity at all,

But must be govern'd by Sir Argent Scrape;

And can you tell how he'll dispose of it?

La. Cov.

'Tis true, perchance he'll take my money all,

And purchase for himself, to give away

To his own name, and put me while I live

To a poore stipend.

Fruit.

There you think aright.

You can relieve no friends, you can bequeath

Nothing at all, if he survive you, Madam,

As 'tis his hope he shall.

La. Cov.

That hope may faile him.

I am not yet so weak, but I may hop

Over his grave.

Fruit.

That is not in our knowledge.

But if you do survive him, as I hope,

Madam, you will; there is no law at all

Can barre you of your thirds in all his land,

And you besides are Mistris of your own.

And all the charitable deedes which you

After your death shall do, as building schooles

Or hospitals, shall goe in your own name;

Which otherwise Sir Argent Scrape would have,

And with your Riches build himselfe a fame.

La. Cov.

I grant 'tis true: but will it not seeme strange

That I should serve him so?

Fruit.

Strange, Madam? no;

Nothing is now more usual; all your widowes

Of Aldermen, that marry Lords, of late,

Make over their estates, and by that meanes

Retaine a power to curbe their lordly husbands.

When they to raise the ruines of their houses

Do marry so, instead of purchasing

What was expected, they do more engage

Their land in thirds for them.

La. Cov.

Well, I must trust

The feoffees then; but they are honest men.

Fru.

You need not fear them, they are zealous men,

Honest in all their dealings, and well known

In London, Madam, Will you seale it now?

Enter Trusty.

La. Cov.

Yes, have you it?

Fruit.

'Tis here: here's Mr. Trusty too

Your steward, Madam: he and I shall be

Enow for witnesses.

La. Cov.

'Tis true, give me

Deed, seale, Ink. Seales and dilvers.

The seale. So now dispose of it as I

Entended, My Fruitful.

Fruit.

I will, Madam.

La. Cov.

Trusty, come you along with me.

Exeunt.

Fruit.

Now all our ends are wrought; this is the thing

Manet Fruitful.

Which I so long have labour'd to effect.

[Page 34] Old covetous Lady, I will purge your minde

Of all this Wealth, that lay so heavy there,

And by evacuation make a cure

Of that your golden Dropsy, whose strange thirst

Could ne'er be satisfy'd with taking in.

You once had Wealth. But soft, let me consider;

If she should marry old Sir Argent Srape,

We could not keep it; for his money then

Would make a Suit against us, and perchance

Recover hers again. Which to prevent,

I will go spoil the marriage presently.

The fight of this will soon forbid the Banes,

And stop his love. Then she wants means to sue us.

Be sure to keep thine Adversary poor,

If thou would'st thrive in Suits. The way to scape

Revenge for one wrong, is to do another:

The second injury secures the former.

I'll presently to old Sir Argent Scrape,

And tell him this; he's meditating now

What strange additions to his large Revenue

Are coming at one happy clap, what heaps

Of Wealth to morrow he shall be possest of.

What purchases to make, how to dispose

Of her and hers. But soft, the Cards must turn.

The man must be deceiv'd, and she much more.

To cozen the deceitful is no fraud.

Exit.

Enter Sir Argunet Scrape.

Scra.

Methinks a youthful vigour doth possess

My late stiffe limbs, and like a Snake, I feel

A second Spring succeed my age of Winter.

Oh Gold! how cordial, how restorative

Art thou? What though thou canst not give me legs,

Nor active hands? Alas, I need them not;

Possest of thee, I can command the Legs,

The Hands, the Tongues, the Brains of other men

To move for me. What need he Hands or Brains

That may command the Lawyers subtilty,

The Souldiers valour, the best Poets wit,

Or any Writers skill? Oh Gold! to thee

The Sciences are servants, the best Traders

Are but thy slaves, indeed thy creatures rather;

For thee they were invented, and by thee

Are still maintain'd. 'Tis thou alone that art

The nevers of War, the sement of the State,

And guide of humane Actions. 'Tis for thee

[Page 35] Old Argent lives. Oh what a golden shower

Will rain on me to morrow! Let me see,

Her personal Estate alone will buy

Upon good rates a thousand pound a yeer.

Where must that lie? Not in our Country here,

Not all together; no, then my Revenue

Will have too great a notice taken of it;

I shall be rais'd in Subsidies, and sess'd

More to the poor: No, no, that must not be.

I'll purchase all in parcels, far from home,

And closely as I can; a piece in Cornwal,

In Hampshire some, some in Northumberland.

I'll have my Factors forth in all those parts,

To know what prodigals there be abroad,

What penyworths may be had: so it shall be.

Enter Fruitful.

Ha, Mr. Fruitful! welcom, how go the squares?

What do you think of me to make a Bridegroom?

Do I look young enough?

Fruit.

Sir, I am come

To tell you news, such news as will perhaps

A little trouble you; but if your Worship

Should not have known it, 'twould have vex'd you more.

Scra.

Vex'd me? what's that can vex me now? speak man.

Fruit.

I thought that I was bound in conscience Sir

To tell it you; 'tis conscience, and the love

I bear to Truth, makes me reveal it now.

Scra.

What is the business?

Fruit.

Do not suppose

That I am treacherous to my Lady Covet

To whom I do belong, in uttering this.

In such a case I serve not her but Truth,

And hate dishonest dealing.

Scra.

Come to'th' purpose.

Fruit.

Then thus it is; My Lady Covet, Sir,

Meerly to cozen you, has past away

Her whole Estate; you shall not get a peny

By marrying her.

Scra.

How man? is't possible?

Fruit.

'Tis very certain Sir, I for a need

Could shew you the Conveyance, for my hand

Is as a Witness there, so is her Stewards.

Scra.

Oh horrible deceit!

Fruit.

Ask her her self;

If she deny it, I can justifie it;

So can her Steward too.

Scra.

You make me mad.

Fruit.

I keep you from being so, by a mature

Prevention of your cozening.

Scra.

O what hopes

Am I fall'n from? who would believe these false

Deceitful creatures?

Fruit.

Sir, I could but wonder

That she would cheat so honest a Gentleman,

[Page 36] That came a Suiter to her for pure love.

Scra.

Love? mischief of love.

Fruit.

Alas, I know

It was not her Estate that you sought after,

Your love was honester; and then that after,

Should cozen you?

Scra.

She shall not cozen me.

I'll have my Horse-Litter made ready straight,

And leave her house.

Fruit.

But when you see her Sir,

It may be your affection will return.

If you should leave her onely upon this,

The world would think that you were covetous;

And covetousness is such a sin you know.

Scra.

You do not mock me, do you?

Fruit.

Who, I Sir?

I know your Worship do's abhor the sin

Of covetousness; But I confess indeed

'Twould vexe a man to have been cozoned so.

Sir Arg.

Havel liv'd all this while to be o' reach'd

And cheated by a woman? I'll fotsake her

Immediately.

Fruit.

Sir, 'tis a happy thing

When men can love with such discretion,

As to forsake, when they shall see just cause.

Some are so fond in their affections,

That though provok'd by all the injuries

That can be off'red, they can never leave

The Mistriss of their Hearts.

Sir Arg.

I warrant her

For any such affection in old Argent.

Fruit.

I do believe it Sir, you are too wise.

Enter Lady Covet.

Lad. Cov.

How do you Sir?

Arg.

E'ene as I may.

You do not mean I shall be e're the better

For you.

Lad. Cov.

How's this? I do not understand

What you should mean

Arg.

You may, if you consider:

But if you do not, I'll explain it to you.

Have I deserv'd such dealing at your hands?

Cov.

As what?

Arg.

As that you should speak one thing to me,

And mean another; But I'll make it plainer;

You seem'd to love me, and for love it seems,

Thinking to marry me, have made away

All you Estate.

Cov.

How's this?

Arg.

Nay 'tis too true?

Or else your Chaplain do's you wrong.

Cov.

Oh Villain!

Arg.

Nay Villain him no Villains; is it so

Or not?

Fruit.

If she deny it to you Sir,

I can produce her hand, and have the Deed.

Cov.

On monstrous villainy! Oh impudence!

Can'st thou abuse me thus, that first of all

Did'st counsel me to do it?

Fruit.

I confess

[Page 37] I gave you way, and for the time did wink

At your false dealing; but at last my conscience

Would not permit me to conceal it longer.

I have discharg'd it now, and told the truth.

Arg.

'Twas well none of you, Sir; well, I'll away.

Madam, seek out some other m [...]n to ch [...]at,

For me you shall not.

Cov.

Stay Sir, my Estate

Shall still be good; the Feoffees will be honest.

Fruit.

I, that they will, to keep what is their own.

Cov.

Oh monstrous wickedness! was e're [...] like

Heard of before?

Fruit.

I know the Feoffee mindes.

Enter Freeman, Euphues, Barnet, Dotterel, Whimsey.

Free

How fare you Madam? Wherefore look you sadly

At such a joyful time?

Cov.

Oh Mr. Freeman

I am undone, and ruin'd.

Fruit.

No, good Madam,

We'll see you shall not want.

Free.

How's this?

Fruit.

You shall have a fair competence allow'd you.

Euph.

What riddle have we here?

Cov.

Our thou ungratious

Dissembling villain.

Fruit.

An indifferent means

Will keep your Ladyship; for you are past

Those vanities which younger Ladies use;

You need no gaudy clothes, no change of Fashions,

No Paintings nor Perfumes.

Euph.

I would fain know

The bottom of this.

La. Whi

Servant, can you discover

What this should mean?

Dott

No Mistriss, I protest,

With all the wit I have

Fruit.

And for you House,

You shall have leave to stay here, till we have

Provided for you.

Cov.

Oh my heart will break!

Euph.

Here is the finest turn that e're I saw

Arg.

I will resolve you Gentlemen; This Lady

To cozen me in marriage, had it seems

Past her Estate away; into what hands

'Tis fall'n I know not, nor I care not, I.

Fruit.

'Tis fall'n into the hands of wise men, Sir,

That know how to make use of what is theirs.

Cov

This hypocrite perswaded me to do't,

And then discover'd all, as if one purpose

He sought my ruine.

Fruit.

No not I, good Madam;

'Twas for your soules health; I have done you good,

And eas'd you of a burden, and a great one

So much Estate would have been still a cause

Of cares unto you; and those cares have hinder'd

Your quiet passage to a better life.

Euph.

[Page 31]

Excellent divel! how I love him now.

Never did knavery play a juster part.

Fru.

And why should you at such an age as this

Dreame of marriage, a thing so farre

Unfit, nay most unnatural, and prophane,

To stain that holy ordinance, and make it

But a meere bargain? for two clods of earth

Might have been join'd as well in matrimony.

'Tis for your soules health, Madam, I do this.

Euph.

How much was I mistaken in this Chaplaine?

I see h' has braines.

Free.

Though 't be dishonesty

In him, yet justly was it plac'd on her!

And I could even applaud it.

Lad. Whim.

I protest,

I love this Chaplain.

Dot.

So do I, sweet Mistris,

Or I am an errant foole.

Cov.

But yet I hope,

The feoffees may prove honest; Ile try them.

Fru.

Ile goe and bring them to your Ladyship.

Exit Fruitful.

Arg.

Ile stay no longer; make my Litter ready.

Lady farewel; and to you all.

Free.

Nay, Sir,

Then let me interpose; let me entreat you

By all the rites of neighbourhood, Sir Argent,

Make not so suddain a departure now.

What though the businesse have gone so crosse?

You may part fairly yet. Stay till to morrow:

Let not the country take too great a notice

Of these proceedings and strange breach; 't will be

Nothing but a dishonour to you both.

Pray Sir, consent; give me your hand, Sir Argent.

Arg.

At your entreaty,

Sir,

Ile stay till morning.

Free.

Before that time you may consider better.

Exeunt.

Finis Actus Quarti.

[Page 39]

Actus Quintus.

Matilda, Theodore.

Mat.

I'Ll not refuse my Uncles courtesie,

But go and see his House; I should before

Have done that duty to him, but I thought

My visits were not welcom, since he liv'd

So close and privately.

Theod.

Sweet Coz', you'll finde

A happy alteration in my Father,

And that there dwel a kinde and honest soul

Within his brest; though wretched Avarice

The usual fault of age, have heretofore

Too much kept back the good expressions

Of such like thoughts, he now will make a mends

To all the world, and has begun already

With his poor Neighbours.

Mat.

Cozen, I shall be

Too bad a Guest at this sad time, and bring

Nothing but sorrow to my Uncles house.

Theod.

You'll be your selfe a welcom Guest to him;

And I shall think our roof exceeding happy

If it may mitigate that killing grief

Which your so solitary life too much

Has nourish'd in you Cozen, feed it not;

'Tis a disease that will in time consume you.

I have already giv'n the best advice

That my poor knowledge will afford, to ease

Your troubled thoughts If time which heaven allows

To cure all grief, should not have power to do it;

If death of Father, Mother, Husband, Wife,

Should be lamented still, the world would wear

Nothing but black. Sorrow alone would reign

In every Family that lives, and bring

Upon poor Mortals a perpetual night.

You must Forget it, Cozen.

Mat

Never can I

Forget my love to him.

Theod.

Nor do I strive

To teach you to forget that love you bear

To his dear memory, but that grief which lies

Wrapt in amongst it, and turns all to Poyson;

Making it mortal to that soul that tastes it.

[Page 40] 'Tis that, sweet Cozen, which I hope that time

May by degrees extinguish. Will you please

To walk along? my Father long ere this

Expects us I am sure, and longs to see you.

Exeunt.

Eugeny in the Officers Hands.

Eug.

I blame you not at all, that by the Law

And vertue of your places, are requir'd

To apprehend me.

Offi.

We are sorry, Sir,

We were inforc'd to see you.

Eug.

But I wonder

What curious eye it was that search'd so far

Into my secret walks, that did discover

This dark abode of mine, and envy'd me

My solitary sorrow; such a life

As I enjoy'd, a man might well afford

To his most great and mortal Enemy.

Offi

'Twas a plain fellow, Sir, tha brought us hither,

In the Kings name, and left us when we had you.

But Sir, we wish you all the good we may

Eug.

I thank you Friends; I cannot tell at all

Whom to suspect, nor will I further vex

My thoughts in search of such a needless thing.

I call to minde what once my Theodore

Told me by way of a surmise, but sure

It cannot be so foul; shall I entreat you

To carry me to old Sir Argent Scrape

My Kisman? I would onely speak with him

Before I go to prison; And let one,

If you can spare a man, go run for me

To Mr. Earthworm's house, and bid his son

Meet me with old Sir Argent; he lies now

At my Lady

Covets

house: I have about me

What will reward your pains, and highly too.

Offi.

It shall be done as would have it, Sir,

Eug.

I dare not send to fair Artemia:

The sight of her, and of so dear a sorrow

As she would shew, would but afflict me more.

Perchance I may come safely off; till then

I would conceal this accident from her.

But Fame is swiftest still when she goes laden

With news of mischief. She too soon will hear,

And in her sorrow I shall doubly suffer.

Thus are we Fortunes pastimes, one day live

Advanc'd to Heaven by the peoples breath,

'The next hurl'd down into th' Abyss of death.

[Page 41]

Enter Euphues, Artemia.

Euph.

But are you sure 'tis hereabouts he lives?

Ha! who is that? 'tis he, and in the hands

Of Officers; Cozen, the mischief's done

Before we come.

Art.

O my dear Eugeny!

Eug.

Artemia too? Ay me! she swoons: help, help!

Look up, my Love; there is no fear at all

For me; no danger, all is safe, and full

Of hope and comfort.

Euph.

She begins to come

Unto her self again.

Eug.

But pray Sir, tell,

How came you hither, Noble Euphues?

Euph.

I never knew the place; but now by her

Instructions found it out: I came to bear

Her company; and her intent of comming

Was to inform you of a danger neer,

Of such a monstrous mischief, as perchance

You scarce can credit; old Sir Argent Scrape

By me, and by another Gentleman,

Was overheard to say, [...]hat he had Scouts,

And had laid certain plots to apprehend

His Kinsman Eugeny just before th' Assizes,

Besides what further means he did intend

Closely to work your death, he then declar'd

To the old covetous Lady, whom he came

A Suiter to.

Eug.

Prophetick Theodore,

How right thou wert!

Euph.

This thing when I had heard,

I told it her; and we with speed made hither,

But ere we came, the mischief was fulfil'd.

Eug.

I thank you, Sir, for this discovery:

How ere I speed, pray pardon me, if I

Shall by the Hand of Justice, die your Debtor.

How soon from Vertue, and an honoured Spirit,

Man may receive what he can never merit!

Be not thou cruel, may Artemia;

Do not torment me with thy grief, and make

Me die before my time; let hope a while

Suspend thy sorrow; if the worst should fall,

Thy sorrow would but more enfeeble me,

And make me suffer faintly for thy sake.

Art.

If worst should fall, my Love (which Heaven foresend)

How could I chuse but suffer?

Euph.

I will hope

Your safety yet may well be wrought, and knowing

Sir Argent's minde, you know what wayes to trust.

Art.

Good Cozen help us with thy counsel now,

If thou do'st love my life.

Euph.

Fear it not Coz';

[Page 42] If I may aide you, Sir, in any thing,

You shall command it.

Eug.

Sir, I cannot thank you

So much as it deserves; this timely favour,

If not in life, yet shall at least in death

Endeare me to you.

Art.

Do not name that word,

My dearest love.

Euph.

You must be speedy, Sir,

In all your courses now.

Eug.

Then let me begge

That you would meet me at my Lady Covets.

Ile ring Sir Argent Scrape so loud a peale,

As shall perchance awake his bedder'd soule,

Aud rowze it, though so deepely sunke in drosse,

Drown'd and orewhelm'd with mucke. Goe you together,

And leave me to my way.

Art.

Farewel deare love.

Exeunt.

Enter Barnet. Lady Whimsey.

Bar.

Madam, 'tis sure; I know your Ladyship

Is so possest.

La. Whim

I think he loves me well,

And will not now start backe from marrying me.

Bar.

That is the happy hour he only longs for.

But if so strange a thing should come to passe,

(Which yet I think impossible) that this

Your marriage should break off; I will give backe

Into your hand this bond which I receiv'd;

And 'tis worth nothing, Madam, as you know

By the condition.

La. Whim

True, I fear it not;

But I durst you if 'twere otherwise.

Bar.

He waits the hour when you will please to ty

The happy knot with him.

La. Whim.

He shall no longer

Waite for it now; Ile goe confirme him.

Bar.

But think not, Gentle-Madam, that I sharke,

O [...] cheat him in it; I have to a sum

Greater then this from him as good a title

As right can give; though my unhappy fortunes

Made me forbeare the tryal of my title

Whiles his old crafty father was alive;

He held from me a farme of greater value,

As all the Neighbours know; I then forbore it,

And will do still, since by an easyer way

I may have satisfaction. But here comes

Enter Trusty. Lady Covet.

One that has lost a marriage.

La Cov.

Tell me, Trusty,

What say the feoffees?

Tru.

They'll say nothing, Madam,

Make me no answer, but that they know how

To manage their own fortunes.

La. Cov.

All the world

Conspires against me; I am quite undone.

Tru.

I promise you truly, Madam, I believe

They meane little better then plain knavery.

La. Cov.

[Page 43]

I, 'tis too true.

La. Whim.

How does your Ladyship?

I was in hope to day we should have seen you

A joyful Bride.

Cov.

Ah Madam, 'twas my folly

To dream of such a thing; 'tis that has brought me

To all this sorrow, and undone me quite.

Whim.

I hope not so. But, Madam, I confesse,

The marriage could have done you little good;

One of your years, and then a man so old.

Cov.

Oh do not mention it; I am justly punish'd.

Whim.

Pardon me, Madam, I must make so bold

As leave you for a while. Come Mr. Barnet,

Shall we goe see the party? I wait you, Madam.

Exeunt.

Cov.

My sorrow will not leave me. But, alas!

'Tis a deserved punishment I suffer

For my unjust oppressions; I detain'd

Scudmore's estate injuriously, and had

No conscience to restore what was not mine:

And now all's tane away; what then I would nor,

I cannot now performe, though I desire.

Enter Freeman. Artemia.

Free.

Feare not, Artemia, there shall no meanes

Be left untry'd to save the Gentleman.

I did approve thy choice, and still will do,

If fortune will consent. My Lady Covet,

Are you sad still?

Cov.

Never had any woman

A greater cause of sorrow, Mr. Freeman,

For I protest it does not trouble me

So much, that by this cheat I lose the power

Of my estate, as that I lose all meanes

Of charity, or restitution,

To any person whom I wrong'd before.

Free.

Why then you make a true and perfect use

Of such a crosse, and may hereafter take

True comfort from it.

Cov.

If my conscience

Were satisfi'd, I could forsake the rest.

Enter Euphues.

Euph.

My Cozen I perceive has made more hast

Hither then I; but I have seen a pageant

That in the saddest time would make one laugh.

Free.

What, prethee?

Euph.

I have seen you neighbour Earthworm

In such a mood as you would wonder at,

And all that ever knew him heretofore.

He is inveighing 'gainst Sir Argent Scrape

For being so basely covetous, as thus

[Page 44] For hope of lucre to betray his kinsman;

A thing that he himself would scorne as much,

He does protest, as can be.

Free.

I have known

It otherwise; what may not come to passe

When Earthworm is a foe to avarice?

Euph.

But he they say has made it good in deedes.

Free.

He has been so exceeding bountiful

Now to our poore, and vowes to be so still,

That we may well beleeve he is quite chang'd,

And strives to make amends for what is past.

He has they say a brave and vertuous sonne

Lately come home, that has been cause of all.

Euph.

It well may be; I know yong Theodore;

Uncle, he is of strange abilities,

And to convert his father was an act

Worthy of him.

Enter servant, and Sir Argent in his chaire.

Serv.

Madam, Sir Argent Scrape would take his leave

Of you.

Cov.

When it please him.

Arg.

Get me my litter

Ready presently, I will be gone, Madam,

I now am come to give you loving thanks

For my good cheare, and so bid you farewel:

But let me tell you this before we part,

Things might have been carryed another way

For your own good; but you may thank your self

For what has happen'd now.

Cov.

If you suppose

It had been for my good to marry you,

You are deceiv'd, for that in my esteem

(Though once I was so foolish to give way

To that ridiculous motion) had brought with it

As great a misery as that which now

Is fall'n upon me

Arg.

How, as great a misery

As to be begger'd?

Cov.

Yes Sir, Ile assure you

I am of that opinion, and still shall be:

But know, Sir Argent, though I now want power

To give you that which you still gap'd for, wealth,

I can be charitable, and bestow

Somewhat upon you that is better farre.

Arg.

Better then wealth? what's that?

Cov.

Honest counsel:

Let my calamitie admonish you

To make a better use of your large wealth,

While you may call it yours: things may be chang'd:

For know, that hand that has afflicted me,

Can fin out you: you do not stand above it.

Arg.

I hope I shall know how to keepe mine own.

Euph.

[Page 45]

I do begin to pity the poore Lady.

Free.

This has wrought goodness in her. Who are these?

Enter Earthworm and Theodore.

My neighbour Earthworm? Lord! how he is chang'd.

Earth.

'Twas basely done, and like a covetous wretch,

Ile tell him to his face: what care I for him?

I have a purse, as well as he.

Euph.

How's this?

Earth.

Betray a kinsmans life to purchase wealth?

Oh detestable!

Euph.

Oh miraculous change!

Do you not heare him Uncle?

Earth.

Mr. Freeman,

Happily met.

Free.

Sir I am glad to see you.

Earth.

I have been long your neighbour Sir, but liv'd

In such a fashion as I must indeavour

To make a mends hereafter for, and strive

To recempence with better neighbourhood.

Free.

It joyes me much to see this change in you.

Earth.

Pardon my boldness, Madam, that I make

This intrusion.

Cov.

Y'are welcome, Mr. Earthworm.

Euph.

Let me be bold then, noble Theodore,

To claime our old acquaintance.

Theod.

I shall think it

My honour, worthy Sir, to hold that name.

Earth.

Is that Sir Argent Scrape in the chair yonder?

Free.

Yes, Sir.

Earth.

Oh fy upon him: but soft,

Eugeny brought in.

He will be told on't now.

Arg.

Ha! Eugeny,

Why have they brought him hither?

Eug.

I am come:

Me thinks these looks of mine, inhumane wretch,

Though I were silent, should have power to pierce

That treacherous breast, and wound thy conscience

Though it be hard, and senseless, as the idol

Which thou ador'st, thy gold.

Arg.

Is this to me,

Kinsman, you speak?

Eug.

Kinsman? do not wrong

That honest name, with thy unhallowed lips.

To finde a name for thee, and thy soule guilt,

Has so farre pos'd me, as I cannot make

Choice of a language fit, to tell thee of it:

Treacherous bloody man, that hast betray'd

And sold my life to thy base avarice.

Arg.

Who, I betray you?

Eug.

Yes, can you deny it?

Cov.

Ile witness it against him, if he do.

'Twas his intent I know.

Euph.

And so do I,

I overheard his counsels.

Earth.

Out upon him,

Unworthy man.

Euph.

I could e'ene laugh to heare

Old Earthworm childe.

Eug.

But think upon the deed,

Think on your own decrepid age, and know,

That day by natures possibilitie

Cannot be farre from hence, when you must leave

Those wealthy hoords that you so basely lov'd,

[Page 46] And c [...]rry nothing with thee, but the guilt

Of impious getting; then if you would glve

To pious uses what you cannot keep,

Think what a wretched Charity it is;

And know, this Act shall leave a greater stain

On your detested memory, then all

Those seeming deeds of Charity can have

A power to wash away; when men shall say,

In the next age, This goodly Hospital,

This house of Alms, thi [...] School, though seeming fair,

Was the foul issue of a cursed murther,

And took foundation in a Kinsmans Blood.

The priviledge that rich men have in evil,

Is, that they go unpunish'd to the Devil.

Arg

Oh! I could wish the deed undone again:

Ah me! What means are left to help it now?

Free.

Sure the old man begins to melt indeed.

Eug.

Now let me turn to you, my truer Friends,

Enter Fruitful & Trusty.

And take my last farewell.

Euph.

My noble Chaplain,

What pranks comes he to play now? I had thought

His business had been done.

Fruit.

Health to you Madam.

Cov

How can you wish me health, that have so labour'd

To ruine me in all things?

Fruit.

No, good Madam,

'Twas not your ruine, but your good I sought.

Nor was it to deprive you of your means,

But onely rectifie your conscience.

Free.

How's this?

Euph.

Another fetch; this may be worth

The hearing.

Fruit.

Madam, you convey'd away

To three good Honest men, your whole Estate.

Cov.

The have not prov'd so honest; I had thought

I might have trusted them.

Fruit.

Then give me hearing:

They by the vertue of that Deed possest,

Have back again convey'd it all to you.

Cov.

Ha?

Fruit.

Madam, 'twas done before good Witnesses,

Of which your Steward here, was one.

Trust.

Most true.

Fruit.

And all the other are well known to you;

Here is the Deed.

Free.

Let me peruse it Madam.

Cov.

Good Mr Freeman do.

Euph.

What plot is this?

Freeman reads it to himself

Fruit.

One Mannor onely they except from hence,

Which they suppo [...]e you did unjustly hold

From the crue Heir; his name was Scudmore, Madam,

Cov.

I do confess I did unjustly hold it,

And since have grieved much, that while I might,

I made not restitution.

Fruit.

He was poor,

And by the Law could not recover it,

Therefore this means was taken; by this Deed

[Page 47] They have convey'd it hither, where it ought

Of right to be: are you content with this?

And all the rest of your Estate is yours.

Cov.

With all my heart.

Free.

Madam, the Deed is good.

Cov.

For that Estate which justly is pass'd over

To Scudmores Heir, I am so well content,

As that, before these Gentlemen, I promise

To pay him back all the Arrearages

Of whatsoever profits I have made.

Fruit.

I thank your Ladyship; Now know your Chaplain

That wanted Orders,

Cov.

Mr. Scudmore living! discovers himself.

Euph.

My Friend, how could'st thou keep conceal'd so long

From me?

Scud.

Excuse it, noble Euphues.

Arte.

Oh happiness! beyond what could be hop'd!

My Eugeny is safe, and all his griefs

At quiet now.

Eug.

Is this a vision,

A meer fantastick shew? or do I see

Scudmore himself alive? then let me beg

Pardon from him.

Scud.

Long ago 'twas granted;

Thy love I now shall seek: but though a while

For these my ends I have conceal'd my self,

I ever meant to secure thee from danger.

Eug.

What strange unlook'd for happiness this day

Has brought forth with it!

Scud.

To tell you by what means

I was most strangely cur'd, and found a way

How to conceal my life, will be too long

Now to discourse of here, I will anon

Relare at large; but one thing much has griev'd me,

That my too long concealment has been cause

Of so much sorrow to my constant Love,

The fair Matilda. Sir, she is your Neece,

Let me intreat my pardon, next to her,

From you.

Earthw.

You have it: Go, good Theodore,

And bring her hither, but prepare her first:

Too sudden apprehension of a joy

Is sometimes fatal.

Theod.

I'll about it gladly.

Exit.

Euph.

Dear Cozen Eugeny, if I yet may be

Thought worthy of that name, pardon my crime,

And my whole life, how short soere it be,

Shall testifie my love to be unfained.

Eug.

I do forgive you freely Now to you

Grave Sir, in whose rich bounty it must lie,

To make me happy, in conferring on me

So bright a Jewel as Artemia,

'Tis your consent I beg.

Free.

You have it freely;

Her heart I know, she gave you long ago,

And here I give her hand.

Eug.

A richer gift

[Page 48] Then any Monarch of the world can give.

Blest happyness! gently my joyes distil,

I est you do break the vessel you should fill.

Enter Barnet, Dotterel, Whimsey.

Euph.

Here comes another couple to make up

The dayes festivitie, Joy to you, Madam.

Whim.

Thanks noble Euphues.

Dot.

We have ty'd the knot

That cannot be undone: this Gentleman

Is witness of it.

Bar.

Yes, I saw it finisht.

Whim.

Mrs. Artemia, as I suppose,

I may pronounce as much to you.

Art.

You may

As much as I shall wish your Ladyship.

Enter Theodore and Matilda.

Scud.

Here comes the dearest object of my soule,

In whom too much I see my cruelty,

And chide my self; Oh pardon me, deare Love,

That I too long a time have tyranniz'd

Over thy constant sorrow.

Mat.

Dearest Scudmore,

But that my worthy Cozen has prepar'd

My heart for this, I should not have believ'd

My flattering eyes.

Scud.

To know brave Theodore,

Next to enjoying thee, was my ambition;

Which now affinity hath blest me with.

Eug.

His friendship, worthy Scudmore, is a treasure.

Theod.

I shall endeavour to deserve your loves.

Earth.

Come, leave your complements, at all hands now,

And hear an old man speak; I must entreat

This favour from all this noble company,

Especially from you good Mr. Freeman,

Although this be your Daughters wedding day,

That you would all be pleas'd to be my Guests,

And keep with me your marriage-festivals.

Grant my request.

Free.

'Tis granted, Sir, from me.

Eug.

And so I think from all the company.

Earth.

Then let's be merry, Earthworme's jovial now,

And that's as much as he desires from you.

FINIS.

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MR. Caryl his Exposition with practical observations, on the fifteenth, sixteenth [Page] seventeeth Chapters of the Book of Iob. In Qarto.

The Valley of Vision, being twenty one Sermons, delivered by that Learned and Reverend Divine, Richard Holsworth, Doctor in Divinity. In Quarto.

Mr. Greenhil his Exposition on the first nineteen Chapters of the Prophet Ezekiel, with useful observations thereupon. In Quarto.

The VVorks of Mr. Nicholas Luckyer, M. A digested into one Volume. In Quarto.

Gospel Liberty, by Mr. Walter Cradock. In Quarto.

Paracelsus of Metals and Minerals. In Octav.

The Life of Guzman the Rogue, a piece of most are contexture, in Octa.

Mr. Iohn Simpson O justification. In 8.

Mr. Ainsworths Communion of saints. In 8.

—Arrow against Idolatrie. In 8.

Dr. Sadlers Enchiridion of the art of Physick. In 8.

The first Exhortation of H. N. to his children, and to the family of love. Likewise H. N. on the Beatitudes, and the seaven deadly sins. In 8.

Mrs. Sarah Wights wonderful and comfortable letter to a friend. In 8.

A Patterne of Catechistical Doctrine, by the reverend Father in God, Lancelot Andrews, Lord Bishop of Winchester. In 12.

The New Testament in Welch. In 12.

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[Page] Several Romanes, Poems and Playes.

With variety of Bookes

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Likewise,

There will be suddenly extant an excellent work, entituled Astrological institutions, written in Latine by Guido Bonatus, and translated into English by a skilful Student. In 8.

FINIS.

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