ALL free, and all forgi­ven.

Bless her Ma­jesty.

Good language! O, let me go back and he hang'd, rather then live within the rotten infection of thy Can­kred breath; the poyson of a flatterers tongue is a thousand times more dead­ly, then the twinges of a rope; Thou birth of an unlucky Planet:

I abhor thee.

Fy, fy! Can you rail on your friends thus.

Friends, my friend Captain, come from that slippery Ele, Captain.

His very cradle was in dirt and mud.

His milk the oyl of serpents; his mother a mangy Mermaid, and a male Croco­dile begat him.

This needs not sweet, s [...]gnior Pynto.

Sweet Signior? Sweet Cog a foyst, go hang thy self, thou'dst jeer the very rags I wear off my back with thy fustians of sweet, precious, unmatchable, rare, wise, juditious, hey do! Pox on thee; Sirrah, Sirrah, Hast not thou ma­ny a time and often devoured a whole table of mine, garnisht with plenty, nay; variety of good wholesome fare, under the colour of relling news with a rou­ghy complement?

Good fare of thine!

Nay, dear Gentlemen.

Mine! I mine, Sycophant, I ( [...]ost mark me) to supply [...] [...], [...] a whole study of [...], [...] ri [...]h that they might have set up a Cor [...]a­tion of Almanack makers; and what had I in return? But protestations, (hear­est thou this maunderer) that I was, for learning, the soundest; for bounty, the royallest; for discourse, the sententi­oust; for behavour, the absolutest [...] for all endowments of m [...]de and body, the most accomplisht that nature ever call'd her workmanship: but thou dog, thou scoundres, my beggery was the fruits of thy flattery. Stand off, Rascal, off.

This is excellent faith;

How, how! I flatter ye? What thee, thee? A poor lousy uncloakt imposter, a deceitful, couzening, chea­ting, dull decoying fortune teller; Thou pawn books; thou, patcht out of an old shepheards Calender, that discoursest in time of the change of the weather.

And whose were thy Ephemerides? Why, Impudence, wert thou ever worth Erra Pater's Prognostication? Thou learned! In what? By fil­ching, stealing, borrowing, eating, col­lecting, and counting with as weather­wise Ideots as thy self; once in twelve moneths thou wert indeed delivered, (like a big [...]ellied wife) of a two penny Almanack, at Easter. A Hospital boy in a blew coat shall transcribe as much in six hours to serve all the year.

Thou a table of meat, yes, Astrono­mers fare, air; or at a feast upon high holy dayes, three red Sprats in a dish; that was held gultony [...]oo.

I s [...]ter thee? Thou learned?

Rascal, Cannibal that feedest up­on mans flesh.

Nay, pray, pray heartily Gen­tlemen; in good earnest, and as I live, and by this hand now—

Right thou put'st me in minde what I should call thee; Who was't the cause of all the late insurrection for which we were all like to be hang'd, and our brave General Alphonso is this day to suffer for; who but thou, for­sooth; the influences of the Stars, the [...]onjunction of the Planets, the predi­ [...]tion of t [...]e cel [...]tial bodies were pe­rempto [...], that if a' would but attempt a civil commotion, a' should (I marry should a') be strait crown'd present King of Arragon. Now your Gipsonly may i'th moon, your divination hath fairly mounted him; poor Gentleman, he's sure to leave his head in pawn for giving credit to thy prognosticating ig­norance.

I scorn thee, Parasite.

You are a stinking starv'd [...]-gu [...] star [...]gazer. I [...] that [...]attery or no.

[...]oot, What do you mean, Sig­nior Pynto, Signior Muretto?

I will be reveng [...] and wa [...]ch my time, Sirrah.

Do.

This is strange my Master, to be so heer the place of ex [...]tion and pratt [...]e so [...]; Come Signior Pynto; in­deed [...]a you shall shake hands.

Let me alone, y'are a foolish Captain. Muretto, I will display thee for a—

Hang thy self, I care not for thee this.

Foolish Captain, foolish Captain, heark ye, Pynto, there's no such good meaning in that word.

A Parrat can ecoho, talk to Schollers so.

A proper Scholler, ftitcht up of waste paper.

Sneaks, if I be a fool, I'll bang out the wits of some of your nodles, or dry bastinado your sides.

Ye Dogret, maungy sc [...]bbed owla­glasses,

[Page] I [...]ll mawle yee, so I will.

Captain, sweet Captain, nay, look, now will you put your discretion to coxcombs?

Yes, the proudest coxcombs of 'em all, if I be provok'd; foolish, f [...]esh and blood cannot eudur't.

So, goodman sky walker, you have made a trim hand on't, to chase your self into a threat cutting.

I will shred you both so small, that a very botcher shall shred Spanish needles, with every fillet of your itchy flesh; call me foolish, ye whelps-moyles; my father was a Corn cutter, and my mother a muscle woman, 'tis known what I am, and I'll make you know what I am, If my chol [...]r be raised but one inch higher.

Well, I see Mars and Saturn, were thy Planets.

Thou art a valiant souldier, and there's no dealing with ye. For the Captains sake, I will abate my indignation, Mu­retto. But—

But i'thy face, I'll have no buts, S' bores, the black guard is more ho­norably sured then any of us three. Foolish, foolish, will never out of my head whil [...] I live.

Long life, eternal prosperity, the blessing o'th heavens, and honors of the Earth, crown the glorious merits of the incomparable, Captain Don Ve­lasco.

The Chime goes again, Captain.

Who are these poor Creatures, Lodovico.

My Lord, I know them now, they are some of the late mutineers, whom you (when you, took Alphonso prisoner) presented to the rigor of the Law, but since they are by the Queen's pardon set at liberty.

I should know yonder fel­low.

Your name is Bufo, if I mistake not.

My name is my own name, Sir, and Bufo is my name, Sir, if any man shall deny't, I dare challenge him in de­fence of my Godfathers that gave me that name, Sir; and what say you to that, Sir?

A shallow, unbrain'd, weak, foolish fellow, and so forth: Your lordship understands me;

But for our parts my good Lord—

Here's a high Saturnal spirit, Captain.

Pox o'spirits when they mount a man to the Hangmans mercy, I do not like such spirits, Let me rather be a moon calf.

O brave General, O noble Gene­ral, we are still the rags of the old Re­giment. The truth on't is, we were loth to leave thee, till thy head and shoul­ders parted companies. But sweet good dear General take courage, what, we are all mortal men, and must every one pass this way, as simple as we stand here.

Give me thy hand, farewel; the Queen is merciful in sparing you; I have not ought to give thee but my last thanks.

B [...]rto' giving, our clothes are paid for, and A day will come shall quit us all.

I will burn my books, forsware the liberal sciences, and that is my reso­lution.

Go thy way for the arrantest General, that ever led crew of brave Sketdreus.

Will you make ready, Sir.

Never fear clean shaving, Sir.

May I have leave to meditate?

You may.

A gallant resolution, even in death.

The moon is now Lady of the ascendant, and the man will dye raving.

Alas, poor man.

Poor man, that looks on me, de­lighted to destroy me.

Good boy i faith, by this hand a' speaks just as I would do, for all that he is so near being made puddings meat.

You are sorry For your late desperate rudeness, Are you not?

My Lords, a word: What if we pardoned him, I think the neerness of his arrival to the stroke of death, Will ever be a warning to his Loyalty.

You are too desperate: The Queen hath freely pardoned you.

And more to purchase kinde opi­nion of thy Sex, our self will lend our help. Lords, all your hands.

But is the Queen in earnest?

It becomes her, Mercy is God like.

Do not the stars run a wrong byas now, Signior Pynto?

Venus is Lady of the Ascendant, man. I knew if once he pass the fatal hour, the influence would work ano­ther way.

Very likely, your reasons are infallible.

What can our favours challenge.

Go thy waies for a sure sound brain'd piece whilst thou livest; Pynto, say I, now, now, am I an ass, now my Masters, hang your selves, 'S foot, I'll stand to't; that man whoever he be, (better or worse, all's one) who is not star wise, is natures fool; your Astono­mer hath the heavens, the whole globe of the earth, and the vast gulf of the Sea itself, for his proper kingdom, his see-simple, his own inheritance, who looks any higher then the top of a stee­ple, or a may pool, is worthy to die in a ditch. But to know the conjuncti­ons of the Planets, the influences of the celestial body, the harmony of the spheares, srost and snow, hail and tem­pests, rain and sun-shine, nay, life and death; here's cunning, to be deep in speculation, to be groping the secrets of nature.

O, Sir, there, there, there.

Let me aloue, I say it my self, I know I am a rare fellow; why, look, look ye, we are all made, or let me be stew'd in Star-shut; pish, I am con­fident, and we shall all mount, be­leeve it.

Shall we, nay, then I am re­soly'd.

Frier Bacon was but a brazen head, in comparison of him.

But why should you not have said so much before, goodman Jolthead?

Nay, look ye, Captain, there's a time for all things.

For all this, what will become of us; is the sign lucky to venture the begging of a cast sute? Let me be resolved of that once.

'Twas wisely urg'd, Captain.

Mans richest ornament is his na­kedness, Gentlemen, variety of clo­thing is the surquedry of fools; wise men have their proper solace in the linings of their mindes; as for fashions, 'tis a disease for a horse.

Never richer stuff came from man.

'Zookes, 'tis a scurvy, a pocky, and a naked answer; a plague of all your sentences; whilst I am like to starve with hunger and cold,

By your leave, Gentlemen, the Lord Alphonso hath sent you this purse of gold, commands ye to put your selves into costly sutes, and repair to Court;

How! To Court!

Where you may happily see him Crowned King, for that's the common report; I was charg'd to urge you to be very speedy: farewel, Gen lemen.

What think ye now, my hearts of gold?

Hearts of gold indeed now, Signior.

Pish, I am a coxcomb, I; Oh, the divinity of—

Bawll no more the weather's cold, I must have utensicles, follow your leader, ho.

Prethoe perswade me not.

You'l loose your honor.

Ide rather loose my honor then my saith: O, Lodovico, thou art witness with me, that I have sworn, and pledg'd my heart, my truth to her deserving memory, whose beauty, is through the world un­followed.

Here the wisdom of sword men, They deal all by strength not policy. What exercise shall be sain'd, let me know that?

Excuse, why, Lodovico, I am sick, And I am sick indeed, sick to the soul.

For a decay'd tilter, or a known Goward, this were tollerable now: But to, the business; I have so­licited your widow.

Will she nor speak with me?

Young widows, and grave old Ones two, by your leave care not so much for talking; if you come once to them you must do, and do, and do again, Again, and again, all's two little, you'l finde it.

Come, friend, you mock my mi­series

It's a fine laughing matter when the best and most approved soul­dier of the world, should be so heart­sick for love of a plac [...]et: Well I have sent your wise servant (for fools are best to be trusted in womens things) to my couzen Shaparoons, and by him your se­cond letter, you shall shortly hear what news: My couzen is excellently traded in these mo [...]tal businesses of flesh and blood, and will hardly come of with two denials.

If she prevail, Lodovico.

What then? Ply your occu­pation when you come to't, 'tis a fit sea­son of the year, women are hony moon if a man could jump with them at the instant, and prick 'em in the right vain; else this Queen would never have sav'd a Traytor from the block, and sudden­ly made him her King and Husband. But no more of that, there's danger in't; Y'are sick you say?

Pierc't through with [...]ery darts, much worse then death.

Why your onely present re­medy is, then as soon as you can, to quench those fires in the watry Chan­nels of qualification: soft, no more words, behold a prodegy.

Long live Alphonso King of Ar­ragon.

Then we are Soveraign.

One thing! Why, is there one thing then, my Lord?

Yes, and 'tis onely this; y'are still a woman.

A woman! Said you so, sir.

It must then be granted.

How's this?

Fine work.

Alas my Lord, this needs no pub­lick mention.

I understand you not.

No message of commends!

And as I said (nay pray my friend be covered) the business hath been soundly followed on my part. Yet again, in good sooth, I cannot abide you should stand bare before me to so little purpose.

Manners is a Jewel (Madam) and as for standing bare, I know there is som difference, the putting down of a mans cap, and the putting down of his bree­ches before a reverend gentlewoman.

You speak very properly, there is a great deal of difference indeed. But to come to the point; Fy, what a stir I had to make her to receive the letter, and when she had received it, to open it, and then to read it; nay, to read it again and again; that as I am a very woman, a man might have wrong my smock dropping wet, with the pure sweat that came from my body. Friend, I took such pains with her. Oh my conscience, to bea [...] a child at those years would not trouble me half so much as the delivery of that letter did.

A man-child of my age perhaps, Madam, would not.

Yet that were a sore burthen for one that is not us'd to't, I may tell you. O these coy girles are such wild cattel to have dealing with.

What ancient Madams cannot do one way, let them do another; she's a rank Jade that being past the breeder, cannot kick up her heels, wince, and cry wee-hee: good examples cannot chuse from ones elders, but work much to the purpose, being well ply'd, and in season.

In season? True, that's a chief thing; yes, I'll assure you my friend, I am but entring into eight and twen­ty.

Wants somwhat of that too, I take it; I warrant ye your mark ap­pears [Page] yet to be seen for proof of your age, as plain as when you were but fif­teen.

Truly, if it were well searcht, I think it does.

Your name is Mopas, you told me?

Mopas my name is, and yours Madam Shaparoon I was told.

A right Madam born I can as­sure ye.

Your Ancestors will speak that, for the Shaparoons have ever took place of the best French-hoods in the parish; ever since the first addition.

All this with a great deal of mo­desty I must confess. Ud's Pittikins, stand by, aside a little: see where the lady coms; do not appear before you are call'd, in any case: but mark how I will work her like wax.

Your servant in all commands Velasco. So, and I am resolved to put ye to the test, servant, for your free fools heart, e're I give you the slip, I warrant ye.

Your ladyship hath considered the premises e're this time, at full, I hope.

O, Shaparoon, you keep true sen­tinel, what? I must give certain answer; must I not?

Nay, Madam, you may chuse, 'tis all in your Ladiships discreet consi­deration. The sum of all is, that if you shew him not some favour, he is no long lives man.

Very well; how long have you been a factress for such Merchants, Sha­paroon.

O my Religion! I a factress? I am even well enough serv'd for my good will; and this is my requital. Factress, quoth you?

Come, your intercession shall prevail, which is his letter carrier?

At your ladiships service.

Your Lord Velasco sent you?

Most true, sweet madam.

What place hold you about him?

I am his Drugster, Madam.

What Sir?

Being hard bound with melan­choly, I give him a purge, with two or three soluble stools of laughter.

Belike you are his fool, or his jester.

Jester if you please, but not fool, Madam; for bables belong to fools, and they are then onely fit for ladies secre­sies, not for Lords.

But is he indeed sick of late?

Alas good heart, I suffer [...]or him.

By your leave lady, without ceremony, you know me, and may guess my errand.

Yet more trouble, nay, then I shall be hail-shot.

To be brief. By the honors of a good name, you are a dry-skinn'd wi­dow, and did not my hast concern the life of the noblest Gentleman in Eu­rope, I would as much scorn imploy­ments of this nature to you, as I do a proud woman of your condition.

I marry here's one will thunder her widow-head into flitters: stand to't, Signior, I am your second.

Sir y'are uncivil to exclaim a­gainst a lady in her own house.

A lady, yet a paraquitto, po­pingjay, your whole worth lies in your gay out side, and your squawling tongue.

A Wagtail is a glorious fowl in respect of many of ye.

Though most of ye are in nature as very fowl as wagtayles.

Are such as you the Lord Ve­lasco's agents in his hot affection?

Sweet cousen, Lodovico, pray now, the lady is most vertuously re­solved.

Heark ye middle-ag'd countess, do not take anothers tale into your mouth, I have occasion to use you in private, and can finde you work enough my self, a word in your ear.

I protest, I meant more noble [Page] answer for his satisfaction, then ever your railing language shall force from me.

Were I the man that doated on you, I would take a shorter course with you, then to come humbly whi­ning to your sweet—pox of all such ri­diculous foppery—I would—

Weep your self to death, and be chronicled among the regiment of kinde tender hearted souls.

Indeed, forsooth, I would not; what, for a widdow one that hath jumpt the old moyles trot, so oft, that the sci­atica founders her yet in both her thighs.

You abuse me grosly.

One that hath been so often drunk with satiety of pleasure, that four­teen husbands are but as half a draught to quench her thrust in an afternoon.

I will no longer endure ye.

For you, you? That are nei­ther noble, wife, rich, fair, nor wel­favoured. For you?

You are all these, if you can keep your own counsel and let no body know, Mistris Madam.

Nay I am so perswaded, and as­sure your self no body shall know.

Yet forsooth, must you be the onely precious piece the Lord Velasco must adore, must dye for. But I vow, if he do miscarry, (as I fear he cannot recover.)

Goodness forbid, Alas! Is he sick, sir?

Excellent dissimulation! Yes sure, he is sick, and an everlasting silence strike you dumb that are the cause on't. But, as I said, if he do go the wrong way, as I love vertue, your ladiship shall be ballated through all Christen­dom, and sung to sciroy tunes, and your picture drawn over every ballad, sucking of rotten eggs among wheasels.

Pray give me leave; Is Lord Velasco sick? And lies there ought in me to comfort, or recover him?

Marry does there, the more In­fidel he: And what of all this now?

What would you have me do?

'Wonders, either go and visi him, or admit him to visit you; these are mighty favours are they not?

Why, good Sir, I will grant the later willingly; he shall be kindly wel­com.

And laught at while he is here: shall a not?

What would you have me say? My best entertainment shall be open to him; I will discourse to him freely, if he requires it privately: I will be all what in honour I should.

Certifie him so much by letter.

That cannot stand with my mo­desty, my word and truth shall be my gage.

Enough, do this, and by this hand I'll ask you pardon for my rude­ness, and ever heartily honour you.

I shall hear from you when my leasures serves.

Most assuredly. Good destines speed your journey.

All happiness ride ever before you, your disgraces behinde you, and and full pleasure in the midst of ye.

My over kinde, Captain, what would you say?

Why, Mistris, I would say, as a man might say forsooth, indeed I would say.

What, Captain?

Even whatsoever you would have me to say, forsooth.

If that be all, pray say nothing.

Why look ye, Mistris, all what I say if you mark it well, is just nothing; As for example, To tell you that you are fair, is nothing, for you know it your self; to say you were honest, were an indignity to your beauty, and upon the matter nothing, for honesty in a fair woman is as good as nothing.

That is somwhat strange to be proved.

To a good wit, dear Mistris, no­thing's impossible.

Sure the Court and your new clothes have infected you: Would I were a purse of gold, for your sake, Cap­tain, to reward your wit.

I would you were, mistris, so you were not counterfeit metal, I should soon try you on the too true touch­stone of my affections, indeed for­sooth.

Well, witty Captain, for your love I must pass away in debt, but will not fail to think on't. But now I am in hast.

If you would but grant me but one poor request, before you go, I should soon dispatch and part.

Name it, Captain.

Truly, and as I live, 'tis a very small triffle for your part, all things con­sidered.

But cannot you tell what it is?

That were a fine jest indeed, why, I would desire, intreat, and be­seech you.

What to do?

There you have it, and thank you too.

I understand you not.

Why, To do with you, forsooth, to do with you.

To do what?

In plain words, I would commit with you, or as the more learned phrase it, if you be pleased to consent, I would ravish you.

Fy, fy, Captain, so un [...]ivil, you made me blush.

Do I say; why, I am glad I have it for you: Souldiers are hot upon ser­vice, mistris, and a wise mans bolt is soon shot; as the proverb says:

Good Captain, keep up your bolt till I am at leasure to stand fair for your mark. If the Court Stalions prove all so rank, I will vow all to ride hence­forth upon an ass; so, Captain, I must leave you.

Fare-wel heartily to you for­sooth.

Go thy waies for as true a Mistris as ever fowled clean Napary. This same whor­son Court diet, cost, lodging, change of clothes, and ease, have addicted me villanously to the itch of concupi­scence.

They all shall not intreat me.

Your Majesty were no King, if your own will were not your own law.

Always, my Lord, observing the domination of the Planets: As if Mars and Venus being in conjunction, and their influence working upon your frail­ty; then in any case you must not resist the motion of the celestial bodies.

All which (most gracious So­verain) this most famous Scoller will at a minute foretel.

All hail to the King himself, my very good Liege, Lord, and most grati­ous benefactor.

What need I other counsellors then these.

Shall I be forc't to be a womans slave? That may live free, and hate their fiokle sex.

O 'tis a glorious vertue in so magnificent a Prince to abstain from the sensual surfets of fleshly and wanton ap­petites.

I finde the inclination of such follies.

Why, what are women?

Very pleasant pretty necessary toys, an't please your Majesty; I my self could pass the time with them, as occasi­on migh serve, eight and forty hours out right, one to one alwaies provided.

Yet of all the seven planets, there are but two women among them, and one of them two is chast, which is, as good as if shee were a boy.

That is not to be questioned; the best of women are but troubles and vexations, 'tis man that retains all true perfection, and of all men your Ma­jesty.

Ye are to rude to enter on our privacies, [Page] without our license, speak, your busi­ness Lords.

We came from your most vertu­ous Queen.

No more.

Ha, ha, ha.

As I am King, the tongue Forfeits his head that speaks another word.

Talk we not now like a King?

Like one that hath the whole World for his proper Monarchy, and it becomes you Royally.

The Queen, and my Mistris; O brave, we shall have some doings hard to hand now, I hope.

You'l scarce finde it so

She would perswade mee strangely.

Was't you spoke that, my Lord?

Phaeton is just over the orb of the moon, his horses are got loose, and the heavens begin to grow into a com­bustion.

Where must I go?

Here Madam.

If your excellent Majesty please to repose confidence in me; I will not onely deliver him your commenda­tions, but think my self highly dishono­red, if he return not his back to you by letter.

Complement? 'Tis for Bar­bors shops; know your own worth, you speak to a frail commodity; and barter't away roundly, my Lord.

She promis'd free discourse?

She did: Are ye answer'd?

Madam, my Lord Velasco is come, use him nobly and kindly, or—I say no more.

Your sweet lordship is most heartily welcom, as I may say.

Instead of a letter, Madam good­face, on my Lord's behalf, I am bold to salute you.

Madam Salassa, not distrusting the liberty you granted, now you and my Lord are in you own house, we will attend yee in the next room; Away, Couzen; follow, sirrah.

It is a woman part to come be­hinde.

What is your lorships plea­sure?

Much good may it do your lordship.

Who might that be?

You are serious?

You promise Lordly.

I must trust ye.

Enough, I take that oath: And thus my self first do confirm your warrant.

I feel new life within me.

So, I may claim your oath now.

I attend it.

'Tis my souls delight.

By all—

Lady!

Hear more yet; if you be baffled, Rail'd at, scorn'd, mock'd struck, baff [...]'d, kick'd,

(O Lady!)

('Tis intollerable.)

Why do you play the Tyrant thus?

Woman thou art vain and cruel.

Your Majesty more honors me, in making me the Messenger of this most happy concord, then addition of great­ness can express.

The very Jove of benignity, by whose gentle aspect the whole sphere of this Court and Kingdom are (like the lesser orbes) moved round in the har­mony of affability.

Great Sir, I shall with joy.

Away my hearts.

Wee'll tickle it till the welkin [Page] blussle again, and all the fixt Stars dance the old measures.

I shall attend to wait upon your lordship to the Caraoch.

Welcom, are we safe?

Most free from interruption: The Lord Velasco is newly entred the Court; I have given the watch word that they ply him mainly; the conclusion (I know cannot but break off in hurle­burly.

There may be yet vertuous in­tention even in bad actions, in lewd words, I urge no further then likely­hoods may inform.

Why look ye, Sir, I must con­fess I observ'd some odd amorous glan­ces, some sweet familiar courteous toy­ing smiles; a kinde of officious bold­ness in him, Princelike and Queenlike allowance of that boldness in him again; sometimes I might warily overhear her whispers. But what of all this? There might be no harm meant.

Fy, no, the grafting of my fore­head, nothing else.

Grafting, grafting, Muretto, A most Gen­tleman-like exercise; a very mystery be­longs to't.

And now and then they walk thus, arm in arm, twist fingers: ha. Would they not Muretto?

'Tis wondrous fit a great Queen should be supported, Sir; and for the best lady of 'em all, to discourse familiarly with her supporter, is court­ly and passing innocent.

She and Petruchi did so?

And at her passing to her pri­vate lodgings, attended onely with her lady in ordinary. Petruchi alone went in before her.

Is't true! Went in before her! Canst prove that?

Your Majesty is too quick, too apprehensive of the worst: I meant he perform'd the office of an Usher.

I am such another Coxcomb; O my side too.

Yet faith, let me perswade ye; I hope your wife is vertuous.

Why not Sir? I think now a woman may lie four or five nights toge­ther with a man, and yet be chast; though that be very hard, yet so long as 'tis possible, such a thing may be.

I have it, wee'll confer; let's stand aside.

Not drink more? By this hand you shall drink eleven whole healths, if your cap be wooll or beaver; and that's my resolution.

'Sfoot, eleven score, without dishonor be it spoken to any mans per­son out of this place.

I say so, pray be answer'd.

Hold, give the lord first, drink it up lord, do, ump.

Away I say, I am not in the tune.

Tune, tune? 'Sblood, d'ee take us for fiddlers, scrappers, rime canters by tune? By this light, I'll [...]courge ye like a town top: Look ye, I am urg'd—Ump—And there's a side blow for ye, like a sober thing as ye are.

well done i'faith, precious Cap­tain.

Dar'st thou do this to me know­ing who I am?

Yes, in the way of daring, I dare kick you thus, thus, Sir up and down. There's a jolt on the bum too: How d'ee like it?

Is not this strange Muretto?

I can scantly credit mine own eyes: The Captain follows his instru­ctions perfectly.

O woman-woman-woman.

That's a lie, a slark one, 'tis known I nere was a woman in my life. I am weary beating of him, and can stand no longer. Groom, kick him thou up and down in my behalf; or by this flesh I'll swi [...]ge you, sirrah.

Why sure Velasco dares not fight.

It must be some or other hath bewitched him.

Avant, I saw twelve dozen of Cuckolds in the middle region of the air, galloping on a black Jack, Eastward ho. It is certain that every dozen went for a company, and they are now be­come a corporation. Aries and Taurus, the Bull and the Ram, two head signs, shall be henceforth their recognizances, set up in the grand hall of their politick convocations—whirr, whirr, there, there, just under the rainbow ambles Mercury, the thin bearded thief that stole away the Drappers wife, while the good man was made drunk at the Still­yard, at a beaver of Dutch bread and Renish wine, and lay all night in pure holland in's stockings and shoes. P [...]sh, Talke not to me, I will maintain against the Universities of both the Indies, that one Aldermans horse is more right wor­shipful, then any six Constables, brown bills and all. Now, now, now, my brains burn in Sulphur, and thus will I stalk about; and swim through a whole Element of dainty, neat, brisk, rich claret, canary, or maligo. Am not I Pynto, have not I hiren here? What art thou, a full moon, or a moon calf?

No, no, 'tis a dry Stock-fish, that must be beaten tender.

Was ever man so much a slave as I?

Does Saturn wince? Down with him, let Charles his wayn run over his North pole; it shall be justified too.

Now, Sir, having taken a little breath, have at ye once more, and I have done.

Clubs, clubs, I have been the death of two Brewers horses, and two catch-poles, my self, and now be try'd by two fools and ten knaves: O monstrous base, horrible; is my lord past recovery?

Nay good, forbear.

Keep standing ho; the Almanack says plainly 'tis no season to be let blood, the sign is mortal. Hold!

We are abus'd, My Lord.

Therein I was wrong'd.

I cannot tell.

Not fight 'tis enough to shame us all.

Here, Madam.

Madam, any thing.

Would a'were, I wish it for your sake Madam, but my wishes and his inclinations are quite opposite.

What said you, Lodovico?

Thus Petruchi. Velasco hath been by the King disgrac'd, by his mini­ons abused, baffled, they justified by the King in't. In a word; Alphonso is, and will be the scourge of Arragon.

'Tis impossible.

His excellent Majesty by me commends to your Royal hands this let­ter, Madam.

That you may all conceive (my Lords) the Kings hearty zeal to u­nity and goodness, he by me intreates your attendance on the Queen to him: To you Signior, Petruchi, he sends this Diamond from his own finger.

You strike me into wonder.

I should excuse his highness [Page] violence to you, my lord Velasco; but he says, that your own indiscre­tion deserv'd your late reproof: And futher, (pardon me that I mince not the sum of his injunction) he says your cowardice is now so vulgarly palpable, that it cannot stand with his honour to countenance so degenerating a spirit.

I cannot tell what I am, your patient humor indeed perswades me I am nothing.

Ladies little puppy dogs shortly will break your shins with milke-sops, and you dare not cry, come out cur. Faith tell me for our wonted frindships sake; hath not this Madam sweet heart of yours a share in your Meramorphosis?

'Tis a very safe resolution: but have you resolv'd never to be beaten again?

Excellent morality; but good my Lord, without more circumstance, the cause, let me know the ground and cause on't.

O Fy, fy, I were better be the Hangmans deputy, then my Lord Ve­lasco's Gentleman usher; all the streets as I pass whoot at me, and ask me if I be so valiant as my master the coward; they swear their children carry woodden daggers to play a prize with him, and there's no talk but of the arrant coward Velasco.

I care not, let 'em talk.

Care not? By these hilts, I had rather then a hundred ducates, I had but as much spirit: as to have drawn upon a couple of men in Ginger-bread, which a hucsters crook't legged whor­son ape held up, and swore they were two taller fellows then you are.

Your readiest way were to get you into a cloyster; for there's no going to Court:

Yes, to have our brains rubb'd out with the heel of a brown man­chet.

As, y'are my friend forbear to come more neer me.

Gone so quickly? Mopas I'll finde out this mystery, and thou shalt be the instrument.

Shall I? Why agre [...]d, let me [Page] alone for an instrument, be it a winde or string'd instrument, I'll sound at one end or other I'll warrant ye.

Are all things ready as we gave charge?

Yes all, and the face of the hea­vens are passing favourable.

Bufo, Be it thy care, the watch word given,

To seize Petruchi suddenly.

If the Devil be not in him, I'll make him fast enough.

All joy to Aragons great King.

This ring, my lord?

What mean ye, Helhounds? Slaves, let go my sword.

Keep in your chaps, and leave scolding, my small friend, 'tis now no time to wrangle or to rore.

Nay, nay, with what you please I am content.

What means your Highness?

Grant me hearing.

Come, Sir, there is no playing fast and loose, which fit a ducat now.

But what now for the Queen?

As she deserves.

Your Majesty hath most wisely considered that point.

I have stood silent all this while, and cannot but with astonish­ment and unutterable grief bear a share of sadness in these disasters. But, Madam, be not altogether dejected on your part: there is more mercy in this soveraign Prince, then that you should any way distrust.

Nay, even proceed and question me no more.

Now by the life of honour, 'tis a most Princely tryal, and will be worth you eternal memory.

Where must I then be led!

O yes, you may.

Madam, true, we are.

Let me be gone.

Well as they please for that: Muretto, follow.

Here is fine work, my lord. What's to be done?

Stand still while this proud Ty­rant cuts our throats.

This must be speeded, or 'twill come to late.

A coward? 'tis impossible; Ve­lasco a coward? The brave man? The wonder of the time? Sure, Shapa­roon, 'tis a meer scandal rais'd by an enemy.

'Tis most certain, most appa­rent; Taylors, Prentizes, nay, Bakers and Weavers; (things that drink can­not put spirit into, they are such mighty bread-eaters) they as I am an honest woman, fling old shoes at him, and he dares not turn back to give an angry word.

I had been sweetly promoted to such a tame Champion.

Gallants! Out upon 'em, 'tis your tough clown is your only raiser up of man or woman.

A Proclimation is sent out for certain?

Most assuredly.

The sum proposed, a hundred thousand ducats.

Present payment, without at­tendance.

'Tis a glorious reward—speak low, and observe.

Whosoever, man or woman, can, or will procure any such foresaid de­fendant, against the said day; let them, him, or she repair to the said lords of the Councel, and give in such sufficient assurance for such defence, and they or any of them shall receive a hundred thousand ducats in ready cash; with what honors may give them, him, or her content or satisfaction.

O that I durst be valiant: A hundred thousand. A hundred thousand; how it rumbles in my chops.

Prethee, a word, my friend.

Sweet Lady, all fair weather up­on ye.

As for you, Madam, time was, I recom­mend to your ancient remembrance, time is past: with my service forwards and backwards, when 'tis time present, resting yours in the whole Mopas.

Very courtly and pithy.

Pray let me view your paper.

'Tis your ladiships.

Some proclamation as I take it.

Madam Reverence, you have ta­ken it in the right cue.

I am o'rejoy'd; there's gold for thy news. Friend. I will make thee the happiest and most welcom messenger to thy lord, that ever received thanks from him; without delay, wait on me for instructions.

I am at your ladiships beck.

True, true, Sir, you are set high upon the stage for action. O the top of my ambition, my hearts Idol!

What a perplexity are you twin'd into? And justly; so justly, that it is hard to judge, whether your happiness were greater in the possession of an unmatch­able beauty, or your present misery, by inforcing that beauty to expose her ho­nor to so apparent a contempt: This is not the least, that might have been in time prevented.

Fair! Unspeakable workman­ship of Heavens bounty. Were all the skilsullest Painters that ever discern'd colours, moulded into one, to perfect an Artist. Yet that Artist should sooner want fansie or imagination, for perso­nating a curious medal, then ever to patern a counterfeit so exquisitely ex­cellent, as is the Queen by nature.

Villain, Petruchi, let me for ever curse him: Had he not been the man; who else had durst to hazard a denyal from her scorns?

See now herein you are mon­strous discourteous, above excuse; why, Sir, what hath Petruchi done? Which (from any King to a Vassal) al men would not eagerly have persued. Alas, my lord, his nobleness is eternal, by this means, in attempting and his felicity unmatchable, in injoying the glory of his time, a beau so conquering, so unparalell'd.

She is superlative.

Divine.

Rich, bright.

immortal.

Too too worthy for a man.

The Gods might enjoy her.

Nature ne're fram'd so sweet a creature.

She is self Nature's Nature.

Build you a Palace, arch it with Diamonds, roof it with Carbun­cles, pave it with Emraulds, daub it with Gold, furnish it with all what cost can lay on, and then seal up the doors, and at best 'tis but a solitary nest for Owles and Daws.

Beauty was not meerly created for won­der, but for use: 'Tis you were in the fault; 'tis you perswaded her, urg'd, compell'd, inforc'd her: I know it, my truth and plainness trumpets it out to ye: Besides, women (my lord) are all creatures, nor Gods nor Angels.

'Tis a [...]eroical disposition, and with your honour she cannot, must not live. Here's the point; If she live and you receive her to favour, you will be a no­ted Cuckold; which is a recognizance dishonorable to all, but to a King fearful­ly infamous. On the other side, if you prevail, and she be put to death, you do as it were deprive the Firmanent of the Sun, and your self of the treasure of the whole earth.

Pray do, Sir; and let Petruchi come face to face to her; observe them both, but be very mild to both: use ex­tremity to neither.

My gratious Lord.

Reach yond fair sight a chair, That man a stool, sit both, wee [...]l have it so.

'Tis Kingly done; in any case [Page] (my lord) curb now a while the vio­lence of your passion, and be tempe­rate.

Nay, Madam, this not the pro­mise on your part.

It is his pleasure you should sit.

His pleasure is my law.

Let him sit too, the man,

Sir, you are obey'd.

Now it works.

I am distract. Say? What! Do not, do not—

My lord the King-Way, Sir?—He is in a trance, or else metamorphis'd to some some pillar of marble: How fix­edly a' stands.

D'ee hear, Sir? What d'ee dream on?

My lord, this is your Queen speak to her.

Soveraign Sir.

If you will be an Eaglet of the right aery, you [...]ust endure the Sun. Can you chuse but love her?

No by the Stars. Why would not you be honest; and know how I do dore?

Heaven knows, I [...] abu [...]'d my self or you.

As much sw [...]re I, and truly.

Sir, they are gone.

Fare ye well King, this is ad­mirable, I will be chronicled, all my business ripens to my wishes. And if honest intentions thrive so succesfully [...] I will henceforth build upon this assu­rance, that there can hardly be a greater Hell or Damnation, then in being a Vil­lane upon earth.

I am wonder stricken—And were you i'faith the she indeed, that turn'd my Lords heart so handsomly, so cunningly? O how I reverence wit. Well, lady, you are as pestilent a piece of po­licy, as ever made a [...] ass of love.

But, Lodovico, I'll salve all a­gain quickly.

Yes indeed forsooth, she has the trick on't.

You have undertaken with the lords already, you say.

I have, and my life is at stake, but I fear not that.

Pish, you have no need; [...] smile, or kinde simper from you does all; I warrant ye the sight of so much gold, as you are to receive, hath quickned your love infinitely.

Why, Sir, I was no [...] worthy of my lords love before; I was too poor: but now two hundred thousand ducats, is a dower sit for a lord.

Marry is't. I applaud your consideration.

'Twas neatly thought on.

He comes himself, 'tis fit we stood unseen.

Ply him soundly, lady.

Let us withdraw then.

The best of my lord Velasco's wishes ever.

Crown him with all true content.

Cry ye mercy, Lady.

I come to chide you my Lord; can it be possible that ever any man could so sincerely profess such a migh­tiness of affection, as you have done to me, and forget it all so soon, and so un­kindely.

Have you so? O you are a hot lover; a woman is in fine case to weep out her eyes for so uncertain a friend, as your protestations urg'd me to conceive you: But come I know what you'll say aforehand, I know you are angry.

Pray give me leave to be my own tormentor.

Very angry, extreamly angry; But as I respect perfection, tis more then I deserve.

Little know you the misery I have en­dured, and all about a hasty word of nothing, and I'll have it prove nothing e're we part.

To witness how indearedly I prefer your merits, and love your per­son; in a word, my lord, I absolve you, and set you free from the injunction I bound you in; as I desire to thrive, I meant all but for a tryal in jest.

I was too blame, but one fault (me thinks) is to be pardoned, when I am yours and you firmly mine: I'll bear with many in you.

So, if you be in earnest; What's the matter?

The sum of all is, that I know it suits not with the bravery of the lord Velasco's spirit, to suffer his Queen and soveraign stand wrongfully accused of dishonour, and dye shamefully for a fault never committed.

Why 'tis no fault of mine.

Nor shall it be of mine: Go be a famous subject; be a ransomer of thy Queen from dangers, be registred thy Countries patron: Fight in defence of the fairest and innocentest princess a­live: I with my heart release you.

First conquer; that done, enjoy me ever for thy wife: Velasco, I am thine.

Very good, Sir, 'tis prettily put off, and wondrous modestly. I protest, no man hath enjoyn'd me to this task; 'tis onely to do service to the State, and honour to you.

No man enjoyn'd you but your self?

None else, as I ever had truth in me.

Better and better, the man will triumph anon sure; Prethee, good dissemble no longer; I say you shall fight, I'll have it so: I command you fight, by this kiss you shall.

I grant you none but I.

Not dare to fight, what not for me?

No Lady.

I durst not, must not, cannot, will not fight.

O me und one.

What ayles you?

And so should have the pro­mis'd Gold.

I, I.

My Lords I can no more but yeild me to the law.

O that ever you were born, you have made a sweet hand on't, have you not.

Here is the right recompence of a vain confidence, Mistresse: But I will not torture you being so neer your end, lady say your prayers and die in Charity, that's all the pitty I can take on ye

Ten times the gold you should have had, now Lady cannot release you.

Nay even go thy ways, 'tis an old proverbe that leachery and cove­to usnes go together, and 'tis a true one too, But [...] shift for one.

If some proper squire or lustly yeoman have a mind to any thing I have about me, a shall soon know what to trust too for I see the times are very troublesome.

Now is the prosperous season when the whole round of the planets are coupling together. Let birds and beasts observe valentines day, I am a man and all times are with me in season, this same Court ease hath sett my blood on tiptoe, I am Madder then a march hare.

Blessing on your fair face, your handsome hand, your clean foot sir, are you a Courtien sir?

Good starrs direct me, sweet wo­man, I am a Courtier, if you have any suit, what is't, what is't? be short.

Lord what a Courteous proper man 'a is, trust me, 'a hath a most elo­quent heard.—Suit Sir, Yes Sir, I am a countrey gentlewoman by father and Mothers side, one that comes to see f [...] ­shions and learne newes. And How I pray sir (if I may be so bold to aske) stand things at Court Sir now a dayes?

A very modest necessary and dis­creet Qeustion.

Indeed Mistris Countrey-Gentlewoman, things at Court stand as they were over wont, some stiffe and some slacke, every thing according to the imployment it hath.

Mary, the more pitty sir, that they have not all good doing a like, me­thinkes, they should be all and at all times ready heer.

You speake by a figure, by your leave, in that.

But because you are a stranger, I will a litte more amply informe you.

Heer at our Courts of Arr [...]n, Schollars for the most part are the veriest fooles for that they are allways, beggerly and prowd. And foolish citizens the wisest schollars for that they never run at char­ges for greater learning to cast up their reck'nings, then their Horn-bool [...].

Here every old lady is cheaper then a proctor, and will as finely convey an o­pen act, without any danger of a con­sistory. Love and money sweepes all be­fore them, be they cut or longtayle. Do not I deserve a kisse for this discovery Mistris.

A kisse, O my dear chastity, yes indeed forsooth, and I pray please your selfe.

Good wench by venus, but are you any thing rich?

Rich enough to serve my turn.

I see you are reasonable fair.

I ever thought my selfe so.

Will you survey my lodgings?

At your pleasure si [...] being un­der your gard a [...] I am.

Sirrha Mopas, If my mistresse say but the word, thou shalt see what an ex­ploy [...], I will doe.

You'le undertake it you say, though your throat be cut in your own defence, 'tis but manslaughter you can never be hang'd for it.

Nay I am resolute in that point, heer's my hand, let him shrinke, that list, I'le not flinch a hayres breadth Mo­pas.

What, old huddle and twang so close at it, and the dog dayes so neer, Heark ye, your lady is going the way of all flesh. And so is that [...] with you methinkes, though not in the same cu [...], is 'a not?

'A has promist to tell me my fortune at his chamber, and do me some other good for my ladies safety.

I have spoken, the planets shall be rul'd by me, Captain, you know they shall.

Let the planets hang themselves in the elements, what careds, I have o­ther matters to trouble my braines.

Signior Pynto take her to you, s [...] true a mettall'd blade as ever was turn'd into a dudgion, hearke in your eare.

I know not how to trust you, you ar all so sickle so unconstant.

He knowes he has.

Why by my truth I thanke you forsooth, 'tis more of your curtesie then my deserving; but I shall study to deserve it.

I hope so, and doubt it not.

Madam Cosen Shaproon.

You are welcom sir.

Cosen, Nay then I smell she is a gentlewoman indeed.

Yes, and as antiently descended as Flesh and blood can derive her.

I am a made man and I will have her.

You'le walke with me sir?

Even through fire and water. sweet Mistres.

This is not kindly done, nor like a friend.

Keep your chamber then, what should owles and barts do abroad by day light? why, you are become so notori­ously ridiculous, that a Crav [...]n is repu­ted of nobler spirit amongst birds, then Velasco among men.

Faint hearts and strong toungs are the tokens of many a tall prattling Ghossipe. Yet the truth is you have halfe convinced me, But to what end will you be a looker on the Tragedy of this shee Beast? it will but breed your greater vexation.

I hope not so, I looke for Com­fort in't.

Mass: that may be too, It can­not but make your melancholy a little merry, to see the woodcockes neck caught in a worse noose, then shee had set for you.

My Lord they come.

Let me stand back unseen, Good Angells guard her.

Pish here's not any.

Madam Salassa, I am bold to take leave of ye before your long journey: All the comfort that I can give you is, that the weather is like to hold very fair, you need not take much care for either hood or cloke for the matter.

Say ye so? Why then in a word, go merrily up the stayers; my lord Velasco desires Heaven may as hear­tily forgive him, as he does you.

Villain, hold, hold! Or thou dyest, Slave.

What means that counter­mand?

Hey, do! More news yet, you will not be valiant when 'tis too late, I trust?

Woman, come down: Who lends me now a sword?

Marry, that do I, Sir, I am your first man; Here, here, here, take heed you do not hurt your fingers; 'twill cut plaguely: and what will you do with it?

Aha: Why then, however things happen, let them fall, as they fall. God a' mercy, my lord, at last.

My ill purchast life!

Are you resolv'd to dye?

What a royall pair of excel­lent creatures are heer both upon the castaway. It were a saint like mercy in you (my Lord) to remitt the memory of a past errour. And in you Madam (if you be guilty of the supposed crime) to submitt your selfe to the King. I dare promise, his love to you is so unfayned, that it will relent in your humility. Pray do, good Madam do.

But how if I be free?

By any means, for your honors cause do not yeeld then one jot. Let not the faint feare of Death deject you before the royalty of an erected heart. D'ee heare this my Lord, 'tis a doubtfull case, almost impossible to be decided, Look upon her well, as I hope to pros­per, shee hath a most vertuous, a most in­nocent countenance. Never heed it. I know my Lord your jealousy and your affectionswrestle together within you for them astery. Mark her beauty throughly. Now by all the power of Love, tis pitty Shee should not be as fair within as without.

None dares I hope.

You are too hard a censurer.

Herauld sound a warning to all defendants—What comes no one forth: How like you this my Lords? Sirrah sound again.

Madam you wrong his truth, and your own fame.

You violate the liberty of armes.

Pish, listen not to her, 'tis I'me your man.

I will.

Shee must not be endur'd.

Hold up the Queen, she swouns.

Madam Deare Madam.

'Tis all dissimulation.

Heydo? here comes more work for mettall men.

A [...]other who should he be?

Speake what art thou?

I swear but what I know.

Hast thou a name?

Here as ready to stand in de­fence of that Miracle of chast women, as any man in this presence.

Tis true I did.

All this I grant.

Dost grant it, Dog, slave, Hel­hound?

Will you hear me?

Heare him good my Lord, let us perswade ye,

What canst thou say Impostor? speake and choake.

I have not deserv'd this my Lord, and you shall find it, 'tis true, I must confesse, that I was the only instru­ment to incense you to this distempera­ture and I am prowd to say it, and say it again before this noble presence, that I was my selfe the only man.

Insufferable Devil!

Pray my Lord.

Wonder not my Lords, but lend mee your attentions, I saw with what violence he pursude his resolutions not more in detestation of the Queen in particular, then of all her sex in gene­rall. That I may not weary your pati­ence: I bent all my Studies to devise, which way I might do service to my country, by reclayming the distraction of his discontents. And having felt his disposition in every pulse, I found him most addicted to this pestilence of jealo­sy with a strong persuasion of which; I from time to time, ever fed him by de­grees, till I brought the Queen and the noble Petruchi into the dangers they yet stand in. But with all (and herin I appeale to your Majesties own approba­tion) I season'd my words with such an intermixing the praises of the Queens bewty, that from jealosy. I drew the King into a serious examination of her per­fections.

Thus farr I must acknowledg, he speaks truth.

At length having found him indeed surely affected, I perceav'd, that nothing but the suppos'd blemish of her dishonour, could work a second divorce between them.

True, truly fates own truth.

Now my Lords, to cleer that imputation, I knew how easie it would be, by the apparent certainty it selfe, In all which, if I have erred, it is the error of a loyall service. Only I must ever ac­knowledg how justly I have deserved a punishment, in drawing so vertuous a princesses honor into publick question; and humbly referr my selfe to her gra­cious clemency, and your noble con­structions.

But can, can this be so?

Let me ever else, be the subject of your rage, in the sufferance of any tor­ture.

And is shee chast Petruchi?

I ever whisperd so much in your ears my Lord, and told you, that it was impossible such singular endow­ments by nature, should yeild to the corruption so much, as of an unworthy thought.

Did I not tell you so from time to time,

Great Soveraign Lady—

But will you love me?

'Tis my part to ask that: will you love me?

Ever, yours ever; let this kiss new marry us. What say?

I account my worthiest thanks his debt.

And he deserves all honor, all respect.

And I whilst I have life.

Nay when I am dead I, will appear again, clap thee on the shoulder and cry, God a' mercy old Suresby.

My lords, What I have been heretofore, I cannot altogether excuse; but I am sure my desires were alwaies [...]onest, however my low fortune kept me down: But now I finde 'tis your ho­nest man is your honest man still, how­ere the world go.

Long live happy both.

I cry guilty, there is a large story depends upon their exploits, my Lord; for both they thinking in such pe­rilous times to be shifting every man for one, have took a passing provident course to live without help hereafter. The man in the moon, Signior Pynto, for the raising of his fortune a Planet higher, is by this time married to a kinde of loose-bodied widow, called by Sirname a Bawde; one that if he follow wholesom instructions, will maintain him, there's no question on't, the captain for his part, is somwhat more delicately resolv'd for as adventurous (though not as srail) a piece of service. For he in hope to marry this lady, at­tending on the Queen, granted Petruchi his liberty, and by this time hath recei­ved a sufficient quietus est.

Are these my trusty servants? What a blindness was I led into!

If your Highnesses both will in these daies of mirth crown the Co­medy; first let me from the Queens roy­al gift be bold to receive Herophil for my wife; She and I are resolv'd of the bu­siness already.

Much comfort to you friend.

All joy and peace.

My duty to my Soveraigns, to all therest at once, my heartiest hearti­est thanks. Now, lady, you are mine; why so, here's short work to begin with. If in the end we make long work, and beget a race of mad-caps, we shall but do as our fathers and mothers did, and they must be cared for.

Justice to me, I was like to have been married to these black muschatoes insteed of that lady.

I to this ugly bawde.

Justice.

Dost hear me King?

King hear me, I'me the wiser man.

No more I say.

Come away, come away for shame, you see what 'tis to be given to the flesh: the itch of letchery must be cured with the whip of correction. Away, away.

What new riddle's this?

My Gratious lord.

I shall inform your Highness.

Woman of impudence.

You come to new torment me.

I am gone, my lord; I go for ever.

Faith be merciful, the woman will prove a wife worth the having, I'll Pass my word.

Good my lord.

D'ee hear, my lord; all the la­dies in Arragon, and my wife among the rest, will bait ye like so many wild cats, [Page] if you should triumph over a poor yeel­ding creature, that does in a manner lye down to ye of her own accord. Come, I know you love her with all the very vaines of your heart.

There's more hope of one wo­man reclaim'd (my lord) then of ma­ny conceited of their own innocence, which indeed they never have but in conceit.

Why that's well said.

Yours, as you please to have me:

Long joy to both.