The constant maid A comedy. Written by Iames Shirley.
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Title
The constant maid A comedy. Written by Iames Shirley.
Author
Shirley, James, 1596-1666.
Publication
London :: Printed by I. Raworth, for R. Whitaker,
1640.
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"The constant maid A comedy. Written by Iames Shirley." In the digital collection Early English Books Online. https://name.umdl.umich.edu/A12130.0001.001. University of Michigan Library Digital Collections. Accessed May 6, 2024.
Pages
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ACT. V.
Enter Hartwell apprehended, Countrey-man Officers, Servant.
Hart.
You have done well?
Countr.
Would you had done no worse.These are his clothes, and you must give accountHow you came by 'em, and produce him safeEre you acquit your selfe; We may suspectYou ha' kill'd him.
Horn.
Then I obey my destiny;Justice I see pursues the guilty person:Dispose me where you please.
Officer.
He does confess••.
Hart.
What ere you be, you can but have my lifeFor his; all your revenge can reach no higher:And to the law I yeeld my selfe.
Countr.
My hopes are coldeAs his blood whom thou hast slaine: Thou hastBeen cruell in this act, to me and mine;Whose f••m••s in him are miserably wounded:But looke for the reward.
Hart.
I must expect it;I•• the m••a••e tim•• I do not beg your mercy:Life is a burden, I would faine be rid on't.Does he weary me to carry it?
Serv.
I'll acqu••i••t my Mistris.
Count.
Do so: To the next Justice; come away
Exeunt.
Enter Hornet.
Horn.
She's gone, she's gone, I shall run mad; My Neece,Rob'd of three thousand pound in her escape,I finde too late, I am awake and gull••d,
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Nor know I whom to accuse for my tormentors;Devils or men, but sure they were not men,But very fiends I revell'd with last night.That I could meet the prince of devils that knighted me,The Poets call him Pluto, god of riches;I and my learned Councell would undo himIn Law, in very Law, which he should findeHotter ere I had done, than hell it selfe,And call his place of torment, in three Termes,But a refreshing to't: Yet let me see,I have the portion still, though she be vanish'd,That's better than my Neece, but if she marry,I lose it all there; there's the vexation.
Enter Cousen.
Cous.
Save Mr. Hornet.
Horn.
'Tis too late, away,I do not love unnecessary complement.
Cous.
This he?
Horn.
Yes, I am he; am I not very fine?What do you thinke this trim will cost me, ha?Three thousand pounds, no more?
Cous.
The Broker wo'notLend halfe the money.
Horn.
Will you, sir, be gone,I ha' no money to lend now, it is not,You know, in fashion, with rich clothes.
Cous.
I came for other purpose, and with newes perhaps,You would be willing to receive; You haveA Neece?
Horn.
No; such a creature was in my possession:Do you know where she is?
Cous.
Faith I imagine.
Horn.
Ha, good sir? pray forwards:You shall have money upon good security.
Cous.
I thanke you, sir, for nothing; I do owe youToo much already, on these tearmes.
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Horn.
My Neece, as you were saying.
Cous.
Were you knighted lately?
Horn.
Is that talk'd abroad?
Cous.
No generall rumour; By a chance I cameWhere such a thing was whisper'd only whisper'd;Just as he was describ'd: In my opinionY'are very handsome, and do looke as like a reverend—
Horn.
Asse.
Cous.
Why, you shall have it, sir.
Horn.
But touching my Neece, good sir,That most ungracious giglet,That's run or stolne away, juggled last nightOut a my doores.
Cous.
Did not she leap the casement?
Horn.
Do not increase my agony; you came—
Cous.
With civill meaning to discover howYou may be abus'd.
Horn.
What money do you want, sir?Your owne bond shall suffice.
Cous.
I ha sworne neverTo write my name or marke; But I can tell—
Horn.
Where I may finde this girle.
Cous.
More I can do, if need require;Tis in my power to giveHer back to your possession, and I am willing.
Horn.
An honest man.
Cous.
On reasonable conditions, and suchAs shall not trench on borrowing money.
Horn.
Honester yet.
Cous.
For you shall give it freely and get by't;For you must understand if I do this,I shall betray a friend of mine, that hasPut me in trust, one that intends to marry her,(For truth to tell, they are not yet contracted)To marry her, d'ee marke? and yet e're morningThree thousand pounds upon her, Is't not so much?
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One that has lent me sums too without parchmon.Or foolish circumstance, to be repaid;Which you were never yet so much a Christian,As to be guilt of, in your Usurers gallonOf conscience melting Sacke; This deserves something,But cause some expedition is required;You have a Bond of mine.
Horn.
For fifty pound.
Cous.
I had but forty, and your Scrivenor paid,With whom, perhaps, your worship too divided;If you remember, there were precious dinners,Ere I could count my Chickens altogether,Which was your thrift and my expence; You shallFirst cancell that Bond, nay this wo'not dot,And give, d'ee marke, give me a hundred pieces,Perhaps I'll drinke your health: This shall retriveYour Neece, and give her into your hands,Though for my treachery, I be sung in ballads,And have the towne curse if ever I marry.
Horn.
'Tis too much for no more labour, sir.
Cous.
If I consider,Three hundred will not bring me to'•• agen;Thus faire I'll deale with you; I'le not touch your moneyTill I ha' don't, but then I will be sure:Fetch, fetch the businesse.
Horn.
The Bond is ready.
Cous.
I will have ready money too: You haveB••gs of all sizes and denominations.I, these things promise well; now I'll attend you.
Horn.
Do this fear for me, and 'tis all thine owne.
Exeunt.
Enter Iustice, Playfaire and Neece.
Iust.
Now we may wish you say, the Pr••••st has tyedThat 〈◊〉〈◊〉 no subtity nor malice canDissolve; And repent not I have beenAn actor in your Comedy, though I should not
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Be tempted easily to such anotherEngagement; For your sake I have dispenc'd withMy person and my place.
Play.
You alwayes wereMy loving Uncle.
Neec.
Sir, you have, in this,Deserv'd our lives and fortunes.
Play.
It was good mirthTo heare him confident all our deviceWas but a dreame.
Iust.
He is awake by this time;Should your Cousen faile, we'll have another wayTo invite him; And if honesty prevaile not,Force him till he consent.
Enter Servant.
Serv.
Some offenders are brought to be examin'd.
Iust.
Nephew, withdraw, and you, faire Bride; These troublesAre incident to my place, I'll soon dispatch 'em.
Enter Co••ntrey-man, Hartwell, and Officers.
How now my Masters? Mr. Hartwell? ha!
Hart.
Looke on me; Sir, as a delinquent; TheseAre able to accuse me.
Iust.
What offence?
Const.
Nothing, but for killing of a man.
Iust.
What proofe?
Countr.
He has confest it, Sir.
Enter Mistria Bellamy and Frances.
Iust.
Mistris Bellamy,You are come in a sad time: Here's Mr. HartwellAccus'd for killing.
Bell.
'Tis not possible.Good sir believe it not.
Iust.
He does confesse.
Horn.
I am not worth your prey, gentle ladyIn vaine I should ••••••enuate my fact,
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To have the troubles of examinations;Here I confesse agen, my hand is guiltyOf killing him whose feeble arme durst notLift up a weapon to defend himselfe.
Iust.
That was not manly.
Hart.
I but slew a cowardStartup, and could I call his life agen,As soone I should destroy it; you perhapsKnow not my provocation: He hasMy Rivall, sir, pardon me: Mistris Bellamy,To whom I only seemed a ProselyteIn love, I had no heart to give from her:And in my study to decline your anger;I fell upon her scorne, which in few minutes,Engaged me to this Fate; Not am I troubledThat I must dye, when she upon whose faithI durst have laid the hopes of my eternity,Hath violated all the trust of woman.
Count.
Wilt please you, sir—
Iust.
Forbear a little.
Hart.
Tell me, most unkinde, if thou didst loveAt all? How couldst thou thinke I should be suchA desperate Atheist, that thou so soone,And with a strange Apostacy should'st revenge it?These swelling drops which in thy innocenceMight ha' prevail'd to ha' restor'd the dead,Heaven now doth looke on, and despise: And thoughThou shed moist tribute on this Tombe, 't shall slide,Neglected o're the Marble, and be lost,As if the stone had sense to punish thyDisdaine of me: I can behold that weeping,And not be moved to wish I were not guiltyOf killing him whose love had been thy triumph;And I dare boldly, still in the contemptOf what I am to suffer, and the justiceOf my owne truth, challenge thy soule to answer
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In what I was beneath that gaudy foole,Excepting that he had more earth than ITo helpe his scale, which yet he may be indebt forTo his fathers sins: Alive, he could not meritOne cold disdaine from thee; And dead, how comes itHe should be worth thy teares? But let thy eyesChide this unruly sorrow; dresse thy cheekesWith their fresh blood again, and let thy faceOpen a book of smiles, in the assuranceI have not long to live; When I have numbredA few sad minutes, thou shalt be reveng'd,And I shall never trouble thee: If thisBe not enough, extend thy malice further:And if thou find'st one man that lov'd me living,Will honour this cold body with a grave,Be cruell, and corrupt his charity.So fare ye well.
Fran.
Yet you must stay and heare me:He sha'not suffer, if my friends or stateCan purchase him a pardon: Where's the bodyOf him that's slaine?
Countr.
We know not; But you heareHis free confession of the fact.
Iust.
This mayProceed from discontents; Life to some manIs but their torment in whose paine they will,As on the Wracke, confesse what neverWas in their thought.
Hart.
Speak it agen, and IDare promise thee to live.
Fran.
My heart was everConstant, my mothers love was but thy triall,As mine a seeming change in thy disguise,Which was not able to secure thee from 〈◊〉〈◊〉The words were, I would choose my 〈…〉〈…〉But what will this availe us?
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Hart.
Mr. Iustice, I here discharge you.
Iust.
How?
Hart.
My joyes obeyesNo limits; I accus'd my false unjustly,The fool's alive.
Countr.
Startup, Where?
Hart.
I know not that,My servant's with him, but if he ha' plaidThe hang-man, starv'd or smother'd him in a ditch,I ha' made faire worke.
Omnes.
This were a welcome truth.
Enter servant.
Serv.
Sir, the Constable.
Iust.
I had rather it had been my Kinsman and the Usurer;But wait and give me knowledge when they come.
Enter Constable, Startup, Close, Officers.
Const.
Where's Mr. Justice?
Hart.
It is he and Close;Then I am secure, your pardon, and thy love.
Bell.
You have it freely, and a mothers prayersFor both your happinesse.
Const.
Please your worship, theseWe took last night i'th'fields suspiciously,And by my owne authority I condemn'd 'em.
Star.
Shall we be hang'd, Close, we are condemn'd already.
Iust.
This is the Gentleman was kill'd.
Start.
Sweet sir, no;Not kill'd out right, but I was almost starv'dWith cold: These Gentlewoman know me,And I should know that Hose and Doublet too;Those garments which you weare, I have oft seen, sweet sir.
Clos.
Well said Ierouinte.
Start.
I was faine to borrowThese of a prisoner that lies in, uponMy Diamond Ring.
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Iust.
You are discharg'd.
Start.
And we too?
Iust.
Yes, and joy in every bosome.
Start.
Close, you must know this your Mistris: Sweet Lady.
Fran.
How?
Clos.
'Tis enough for you to know her, sir,And me to acknowledge.
Countr.
Do you know me, sir?
Start.
Hum; yes, who brought you to town? And your daugh∣ter too, sweet sir?
Countr.
And you shall right her.
Start.
Is she growne crooked? I knew her too well.Peace, not a word more, I know your meaning,Do not discredite me, sweet sir, and we'll steale downeAnd marry her ere any be aware on't;I wo'not stay to shift me, take no leave;The jest will be when I am in the Countrey,How like an asse he'll look in my apparrell.
Exeunt Startup Country-man,
Enter servant.
Serv.
Sir, Mr. Playfaires Cousen and the tother Gallant.
Iust.
I must intreat your patience a little,You'll meet with friends in the next roome.
Enter Cousen, Hornet.
Cous.
Excuse my boldnesse, sir, this Gentleman.
Iust.
Mr. Hornet, you are very welcome.
Horn.
Good ••ir no ceremony; We are come'Bout businesse: I have lost my Ne••ce, and wouldKnow where she is.
Iust.
D'ee take me for a Wizzard?
Cous.
Sir, our desires are modest; That you wouldBe witnesse to a bargaine, and receiveSome trifles, sir, in trust to be deliver'dTo me, If I restore his Kinswoman.
Horn.
Not else; On that condition I depositeThese hundred pieces, and a bond, if heDeliver me my Neece, they are his fraught,
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If not, they call me owner.
C••us.
Pardon, sir,That I presume to bring this trouble to you.
Iust.
'Tis none at all.
Cous.
You sha'not long expect: So rest you merry.
Iust.
How fare you, sir?
Horn.
As you see, falne away an inch since morning,But this will physicke me; If I possesseThis harlotry agen, I'll make her sure:Trust not a woman, they have found the herbeTo open locks; not brazen Towers can hold'em.Or if they get not loose, they have the vertueOf Loadstones; Shut up in a box, they'll drawCustomers to them; Nay, being dead and buried,There is a suspicion they will breake the grave,Which puts so many husbands to the chargeOf heavy stones to keep their bad wires under.
Iust.
You are moved?
Horn.
Oh Mr. Justice you are honest,I ha'been abus'd, so miserably cheated,I am asham'd to thinke on't, Stay, what, 〈…〉〈…〉▪
Enter Cousen, leading ••he Neece.
Ha, 'tis my Neece; the very same.
Cous.
There, sir, you have her, and I must ha' these.
Horn.
Take'em: But you shall go with me; have I found you?
Neec.
How Unckle? a reveller? you'll lead mea Co••••anto.
Horn.
You shall dance homewards.
Enter Playfaire.
Play.
What make you so familiar with my wife?
Horn.
How, wife? is she married?
Cous.
'Tis upon record,I'll bring a Parson that shall take his oath 〈◊〉〈◊〉
Horn.
Give me my hand and money, Mr. ••ustice.
Hart.
Where? where?
Cous.
Here, here, but not to be recovered
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By law: I have a judgement, sir, against you.
Horn.
You have conspired to rob, cheat, and undo me;I'll have you all Star-chamber'd.
Play.
Sir, be calme, and hear us.
Horn.
I'll hear nothing.
Play.
Yes, you shall;It will be necessary, I am bold,Presuming on her favour, to demandA parcell of three thousand pound, the sumbelongs to me, by vertue of a marriagesAnd I must have it.
Horn.
Tell me of a marriage?
Cous.
I saw the Priest conjoyne'em:He will deserve your love.
Play.
Perhaps you may continueA thousand, or two thousand, for six moneths,Upon security.
Horn.
Persecution.
Iust.
Faith sir consider,It is more safe to see her thus bestowed,Than trust a jury; If the Doctor hadGiven her too much Opium, or purg'dHer soule away, things might so worse; But IKeep counsell.
Horn.
Ha've mortified me ye••?
Cous.
For your owne sake, and as you are true Knight.
Enter Mistris Bellamy, Hartwell, Frances, and Close.
Horn.
Now, ha ye done? The widdow;Not a word more, take her, I'll pay you sir,Three thousand pounds to morrow: Noble widdowYou were in the first list to be invited;My Neece I told you of, is married toThis worthy Gentleman.
Bell.
You looke like a Bridegroom.
Horn.
'Tis in your power to make it good; What say you,Shall we have issue? Now the word of comfort.
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Bell.
I will never marry.
Horn.
You are resolv'd why, so: Come hither Nephew,Shalt be my heire, I love thee for thy wit;But charme thy friends, they do not laugh at me:I'll be a Knight too, if I live, and buildAn Hospitall for twenty more o'th' Order,Which I'll reduce my selfe out of the Suburbs;It is a shame such men should lose their spursIn womens Petticoats, and turne Squires agenTo Whores, or Parasites to Noble men,For want of fit provision.
Iust.
An excellent foundation.But where's Startup?
Clos.
Sunke, I thinke.
Hart.
Nere co••jure for him; we are ingratefull toOur blisse: But wasting of these precious minutes,Which are so many ages, till the ChurchHath made us perfect.
Horn.
Is there any moreWorke for the Priest? Then give you joy before hand,And let us celebrate the day together.
Play.
I'me glad of your conversion; Ye are the firstJew that in my remembrance has turn'd Christian.
Iust.
Walke on to joyes.
Hart.
'Twixt Love and Fortune, now the accounts are even:A chaine of hearts, and the first linck in heaven.
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