The guardian, a comedie acted before Prince Charls, His Highness at Trinity-Colledg in Cambridge, upon the twelfth of March, 1641 / written by Abraham Cowley.

Act. 3.

Scaen. 1.

Dogrel, Aurelia.

Dog.

Not poysoned you say?

Au.

No, hes as well as we.

Dog.

It may be he has more lives then one, or used himself to poyson, as we now, that are Scholars, and Poets read, of one Mithidrates.

Au.

He was never sick.

Dog.

Yes, very hot.

Au.

I, as a painted fire, his fancy made him so; I smell a plot in't. Lucia, you say, urged him then for Truman. 'Twas a meer plot, I doubt, to put him in fear of death.

Dog.

I shall be taken for a kind of Rogue then, for bearing false witness

Au.

You shall not be mistaken, Sir, at all.

Dog.

Pillory'd, and whipt, with my godly brother Cutter.

Au.

Abus'd by the Prentices as you walk in the streets, and have rotten apples slung at you.

Dog.

Have a hundred blustring oaths o' mine no more beleeved, then when I swear to my Creditors, I'll pay all.

Au

Be abandon'd by all men above a Tapster; and not dare to looke a gentleman i'the face; unless perhaps you sneak into a Play-house, at the fifth Act.

Dog.

If ever I have to do with women a∣gain, but i'the way of all flesh, may I dye an Eunuch. I'll never lye or swear hereafter, but for my self. Were not you the vertu∣ous gentlewoman, with the brown paper-face, that perswaded me to it?

Au.

The very same, Sir; and I ha' just such another exploit here to imploy thee in: therefore be secret, close as a cokle, my good Rymer.

Dog.

To imploy me in!

Au.

Nay, you must do't i'faith; I ha' sworn first, Dogrel.

Dog.

By this good light, I will do nothing at thy intreaty: not if thou shouldst intreat me to lye with thee. Must Poet Dogrel?

Au.

I, must, if he intend e're to drink Sack again; or to make more use of his little-poc∣ket, then to carry Tavern-bills in't; must do't, unless he intend to die without a shirt, and be buried without a winding-sheet.

Dog

I like thy wit yet wench, what is't?

Au

I would marry Puny; he's rich you know, and a bravery, and a wit.

D••g.

He says himself he is so; but few are of his faith.

Au.

He dances too, and courteth the Ladies.

Dog.

Yes in more postures then a dozen of Bowlers.

Au.

But he's rich, Dogrel, and will be wise enough; when I have got'um knighted, then I shall be a Lady, Dogrel; have a dozen of French-Taylors, Doct••rs, Jewellers, Perfumers, Tyre-women, to sit in consultati∣on every morning, how I shall be drest up to play at Gleek, or dance, or see a Comedy, or go to the Exchange i'the afternoon; send every day my Gentleman, to know how such a Lady slept, and dream'd; or whe∣ther her dog be yet in perfect health: Then have the young smelling braveries; all adore me, and cut their arms, if I be pleased to be angry: Then keep my close and open Coaches, my yellow sattin Pages, Mon∣kies, and women, or (as they call 'um) crea∣tures.

Dog.

Be then a politick, Lady; keep none but ugly ones, you'll ne'er be handsome else. But suppose all this, what's this to Dogrel?

Au.

Dogrel shall be maintain'd by me, he shall ha' fine new Serge; and every day more wine then's drunk at a Corona∣tion.

Dog.

This qualifies. And when the good Knight's dicing, or at bowls, or ga∣thering notes in private out o' Romances; might not Dogrel have a bit?

Au.

Yes, like enough your Poetry might tempt some of my under-women to't. But are you prepar'd to cheat, in your own be∣half,

and mine?

Dog.

I, but how must this be done?

Au.

Why thus briefly. First read this Letter.

Dog.

(reads)

Dearest Truman,

We haue long desired to be contracted to∣gether, that nothing might be wanting to our Loves, but Ceremony: To night about nine a clock, I shall finde opportunity to meet you at the garden door, and let you in; silence and the help of veiles, will save the violating of your oath. Farewel.

Yours, Luc. Blade.

I'faith, was this her writing?

Au.

No▪ but the hand's ••s like hers as the left is to the right. This you shall shew to Puny; and tell him that you found or stole it from Truman: I need not I suppose in∣struct you, to polish over a lye; he knows their love, and cannot suspect any thing; perswade him to make use of the occasion, and come himself.

Dog.

And you••ll meet him vail'd.

Au.

Hast thou found it out? thou hast shrew••d reaches Dogrel.

Dog.

I'll do't. Thou shalt be blest. I'll do't i'faith.

Au.

About it then; I'll leave you: and fail not, Dogrel; remember wine and serge. But first, I have another way t' undoe thee, Lucia: And that I••ll try too.

Exit.

Dog.

Go thy ways girl for one, and that's for Puny I hope; I see thou'lt ne'er turn Semstress, nor teach girls; thou'dst be a rare wife for me, I should beget on thee Donnes, and Iohnsons: but thou art too wit∣ty. We men that are witty know how to rule our selves, can cheat with a safe consci∣ence; 'tis charity to help thee, Aurelia, and I will do't, and merit.

Exit.

Act. 3. Scaen. 2.

Truman filius, Solus.

Tru.

Our minds are like the Sea, and eve∣ry Passion Like some fierce Tempest stricken from the North, Disturbs the Peaceful calmness of our thoughts: Custom of anger drives us from our selves, The Adrian Gulf a milder fury hurries; Those Waves touch Heaven, but these arise to Hell. Sometimes the winged whirle-wind of blind Avarice Shoots it self forth, and sweeps up all be∣fore it. Now we with greedy hope, knock at the Sphears, Anon the deadly hand of cold dispair Throws us beneath the grave: and midst these dangers The flame of Love appears in stead of lightning; And with sad glory frights the night it self. Oh! 'tis a subtil fire! and kills, but wounds not. Good God! What more then man can safe∣ly pass The Bil••ows, Rocks, and Monsters of this Ocean, Unless some pow'r Divine, become his Pilot? For then the windes would scatter, the waves shrink, And th'outworn storm suffer it self a ship∣wrack.

Act 3. Scaen. 3.

Aurelia, Taylor, Truman filius.

Au.

Thanks good Taylor; now I'll onely beg that I may buy your secrecy: Fare thee well, Friend.

at the door.

Tru.

Ha! I did but speak just now of Heav'nly pow'rs, And my good Angel enters! welcome Lucia; I can scarce say so here, yet welcome heartily: You see how ill our honest Plot succeeds; I see we must out-weary fortunes anger, And I have arm'd my self for't—ha!

She gives him a note, and imbraces him. He reads.

I have with much ado gotten to you, and can stay with you to night. (Ha!) Why should we defer our joys longer, since we are married in heart? The opportunity, and impatience of such delays, forc'd me to de∣sire that which else my modesty would not suffer me—(Modesty?) —Your desires— to your bed —long wisht-for—(why this is strange) hum-hum-hum— Yours, Lucia. No, no, thou art not Lucia. If thou dost (As thou saist) love me, do not use that name.

She embraces, and goes to kiss him

Some devil has chang'd thee— This i•• worse stil—with much ado—to night—joys longer—opportunity—

Read••: then walks about the room; goes to the Candle, and burns the Letter

May all remembrance of thee perish with thee, Unhappie paper, made of guilty linen. The menstruous reliqu••s of some lustful woman: Thy very ashes here will not be innocent, But flie about, and hurt some chaste mens eyes, As they do mine.

Weeps.

Oh thou that once wert Lucia! thy soul Was softer then, and purer then swans fea∣thers, Then thine own skin: Two whitest things, that paper, And thine own self, thou didst at once de∣file. But now th'art blacker then the skin that co∣vers thee: And that same gloomy shade not so much hides Thy Bodies colour, as it shews thy Mindes.

She kneels.

Kneel not to me, fond woman, but to heav'n; And prithee weep: tears will wash cleaner Ethiops— Wouldst thou have had me been mine own adult'rer? Before my Marriage too? Wouldst thou ha' giv'n me An earnest of the horns I was to wear? Is Marriage onely a Parenthesis Betwixt a maid and wife? Will they remain Entire without it? Go, pray go back, And leave me too, since thou hast left thy self: When peace is made with heav'n, 'tis made with me.

Exit Aurelia.

What are these women made of? Sure we men Are of some better mold. Their vows and oaths Are like the poisonous Spiders subtil net, As dangerous to entrap, and broke as soon. Their love, their faith, their selves enslav'd to passion. Nothing's at their command, except their tears, And we frail men, whom such heat-drops entice. Hereafter I will set my self at liberty, And live more free then is the air I breathe in: And when I sigh, henceforth, it shall not be For love of one, but pity of all the Sex.

Exit.

Act. 3. Scaen. 4.

Dogrel, Puny.

Pun.

But how shall I represent this An∣thropophagus?

Dog.

Onely speak softly, lest she chance to know your voice.

Pun.

I warrant you I'll whisper like wet wood in a Justices chimney at Christmas.

Dog.

But of all things, take heed of too much wit; that's always dangerous, but especially now. Truman, you know, is an ho∣nest harmless fellow, and is contented to speak sense.

Pun.

I, hang him; there's clotted cream in his head in stead of brains; and no more o' that then will compleatly serve to fill the eye of a needle. But I shall ne'er abstain from these fine things, hyperboles and simi∣litudes: my nature stands a tiptoe: Truman has got the cramp; his genius is like some gouty Alderman's that sits in a chair. An' I were in Phalaris's Bull, I think I should be witty.

Dog.

Nay, I know't; a man may as

well keep a prentice from Moor-fields on a holiday, as you from your Muses, and Ca∣nundrums; they're meat and drink to you.

Pun.

No, my good bag-pipe, they're meat and drink to you, that feed by 'um.

Dog.

I see you're ashamed of the Muses, and I hope they're even with you. But so much for this: you••ll finde wine, I hope, when I have found you the wen••h.

Pun.

Though thou wouldst drink cups bigger then Pa••ls-steeple, or the great bell at Westminster, thou shouldst have 'um. How long dost thou think has this night worn her mourning-gown, and lookt like a funeral?

Dog.

Indeed, she has many torches. Why sure, 'tis just about the Critical time which she appointed. You know your busi∣ness: First break a piece of Gold; profess before Heav'n and Angels, you take her for your wife; then give her half of it: and after that, somewhat as you understand me.

Pun.

Will she be malleable, d'ye think? Shall I stamp Puny on her?

Dog.

There's a Metaphor indeed! It seems 'tis the fashion; you take your wife for Gold. Hark! the door opens, use your fortune well.

Exit.

Pun.

Now, if my Alcocadin be right, I'm sure, I am made.

She opens the door, and lets him in.

Act. 3. Scaen. 5.

Captain Blade, Servant.

Bla.

Pox upon 'um, they put me into a horrible fear; but I am glad I am so hap∣pily cheated, for all that. Well, I must de∣vise some horrible lye, to justifie my fears; some trick must be thought upon to gull Truman. How now? What news from Tripoly.

Serv.

Sad news, my Lord; here's an Ar∣my at the door, to speak with you.

Bla.

Who are they? Creditors? a Mer∣chant, a Mercer, a Scrivener, a Taylor, a Butcher, Six Cookes, a dozen of Vint∣ners, and the rest? Ha? Tell 'um I am sick, taking Physick, or else abroad; hang 'um Rogues, come like quotidian Agues on a man.

Serv.

No, Sir, 'tis old Mr. Truman, the Widow, and her daughter, and Mr. Dog∣rel, and I know not who; there's a stock of 'um.

Bla.

They are those I wisht for, let 'um in.

Exit Serv.

Now, Signior Blade, If ever thou wouldst see the golden age of yore, this is the time.

Act. 3. Scaen. 6.

Blade, Truman Pater, Widow, Dogrel.

Tru.

O Sir, my Son has poyson'd you, I see; there's no Law yet, is there?

Bla.

Mr. Trum••n —

Tru.

True me no more then I true you. Come, Captain Blade, I know what you are, and so shall others too.

Bla.

You'll hear me, Sir, I hope —

Tru.

And so shall you hear me, Sir; I can be heard, I would you should know, in as good a place as this is; and before as good as you are, Captain Blade.

Bla.

First leave your raging, Sir: for though you should roar like Tamerlin at the Bull, 'twould do no good with me.

Tru.

I Tamerlin? I scorn him, as m••ch as you do, for your ears. I'll have an acti∣on of slander against you, Captain; you shall not miscal me at your pleasure: remember you call'd me Iethro once before.

Wid.

O the Father! little did I think, I wuss, to see you ever with these eyes a∣gain.

Bla.

Pray, Sir, hear me; The wrong I did you, when you were last here, came from distraction onely, and not my will; and therefore deserves pardon. The business, if you please, I'll relate truly to you; and by what special providence I escap'd the danger.

they whisper.

Tru.

Well, Sir, I'm not angry; but

I'll not be call'd Tamerlin by any man.

Bla.

Upon my faith, Sir, it was an Anti∣dote; I vomited up more then any whale could have done; things of more colours then twenty Rhetoricians were ever able to invent.

Tru.

I shall teach my son—

Bla.

No good Sir, I forgive him with all my heart: but for my Neece—You remem∣ber, Sir, the Will my brother left; you were witness to it. For this her disobedience, the means are faln to me. Now if you please to marry M. Richard to my daughter, Lucia's portion shall all be hers.

Tru.

Thank you good Captain Blade; I thank you for your love heartily: pray send for 'um; he shall do't presently. I thank you heartily for your love, good Captain: he shall do't, he shall do't.

Calls his servant, and sends for 'um.

(What good luck was this, that I spoke not to the widow for her daughter!) How do you, widow? you're melancholy methinks; you're melancholy i'faith, that you are.

Wid.

Well, I praise God, Sir, in better health then I deserve, vile wretch. I'm glad to see our neighbour so recovered.

Tru.

I, good man, he has had a dangerous time of it, that he has, a very dangerous time: his neece is a naughty wench, a scurvie girl, to repay him thus for all his care and trou∣ble: he has been a father to her, Widow, that he has; to my knowledge he has: Her father was an honest man, I'm sure on't.

Wid.

Was he? I, as ever trod upon Gods ground, peace be with him; I, and as loving a neighbour too—

Tru.

We have drunk our half pintes of Muscadel together many a morning, that we have.

Wid.

My husband too was all in all with him. Hei-ho! I shall never forget how merry we were when we went with him to Mortlake in the Easter-holy-days: and we carried a shoulder of Mutton with us, and a fat Pig, and he carried his bottle of wine down with him: I warrant you he he lov'd a cup of wine as well as his brother; in a fair sort, I mean.

Tru.

Ah widow! those days are gone: we shall never see those days again. I was a merry grig too then, and would ha'danc'd and cut capers: ha—who but I? I was as merry as the maids.

Wid.

My daughter Tabytha was just four yeer old then, come Lamas-tide.

Dog.

Captain, I thought thou hadst been at Ere••us by this time: but 'tis no matter; 'tis but an Epitaph lost: hang't, 'twas made ex tempore and so let it pass.

Bla.

Hadst thou made one i'faith?

Dog.

Yes, by thi, light.

Bla.

I'm glad I did not die then. O here they come. She's a good handsome wench; 'tis pity to cozen her. But who can help it? Every one for himself, and God for us all.

Act. 3. Scaen. 7.

Blade, Widow, Truman pater, Dogrel, Truman filius, Lucia.

Bla.

Welcome, kinde Neece; you see I live still: there were Antidotes as well as Poisons.

Wid.

He has been a loving Uncle to you, Mistress Lucia: he might have deserv'd better at your hands: you might had Master Truman, I warrant you, had you but held up your finger to him: he would not ha' seen you perish, Mistris Lu••ia; I may say I know him so far. Speak, Mistris Lucia, speak for your self, good chuck; your Uncle will forgive you: we'll all speak for you: He shall forgive you, that he shall: he knows we have all our faults.

Dog.

I understand the language of her si∣lence; it's strong and good. You bound your son, Sir, to an oath never to see nor hear her without your commission: 'tis that troubles her conscience; she has a tender one.

Tru p.

I bound 'um? Well, I absolve 'um then; what's that to you, Sir? I'll binde 'um again, if 't be my pleasure so: if not, a fig for you; that's all I care. I love to speak my minde; you must pardon me, I ha' spoke to as good as you i•• my days.

Dog.

D'ye speak thus always? I'll ha' you in a Play if you do.

Tru. p.

I'm glad you are so religious, Sir; did I bind you too to silence? Go too, Sir; I told you what your may bees would bring you to, you'll always be wiser then your father: Nay, you may speak, and your Mi∣nion too, if she pleases.

Lucia, pulls off her vail.

Luc.

Does any man here accuse me of any thing?

Bla.

We, and your conscience do.

Luc.

My Conscience? 'tis as pure as Sythian Christal, From any spot; I can see through't at plea∣sure. Whatever crime you mean, (for yet I know not) Would it were written in my face.

Bla.

Thou'dst be blacker then a Moor if 'twere. Did not you consent with that damn'd Physitian to give me poyson?

Luc.

There was none given you, I call God to witness: If such a thought had slipt into my dream, The horror would have wak'd me, and I fear'd Ever to sleep again. No; what we did, Sir, Was but to fright you with a painted danger; That the just terror of your own destruction Might call to your remembrance my dead father: For sure, Sir, you forgot him when you thought To match his onely child with one of these Fellowes that live extempore; whose fortunes Are patch'd up like their wit by several pa∣t••ons. Should I have married thus, (but I would sooner Endure the shameful end which they de∣serve) Your conscious Ghost would start to meet my fathers, And look more pale then death it self hath made it.

Dog.

Let her alone, she'll call names and fling stones about anon.

Wid

Alas poor soul! you may see she's not her own woman.

Tru. p.

What a poor excuse she made! a very idle simple excuse; have you never a better for us?

Tru f.

No, she says true.

Tru p.

You wo'nt bite off my nose? will ye, Sir? pray do not bite off my nose, I pray, Sir, do not?

Act. 3. Scaen. 8.

Blade, Widow, Truman pater, Dogrel. Truman filius, Lucia, Puny.

Pun.

What a bevy o' men's here! ha! My little Load-stone, art thou here, my lit∣tle Diamond? I'll speak to your Uncle now; we'll have a Parson cry I Nicholas presently.

Luc.

You'r rude, Sir: what do you mean?

Pun.

I, so you said i'the garden, when I began to gather, you know what fruit: Come put on your vail, you'll blush else; and look like the picture of a red-rose i'the hangings. Captain, Salve, 'tis done.

Bla.

Done! What?

Pun.

I have her, i'faith.

Bla.

God give you joy, Sir.

Pun.

Nay, she's my own.

Bla

I am very glad of 't.

Pun.

I scal'd the walls, entered the Town, and left a garison there, I hope.

Bla.

I congratulate your Victory, Mr. Puny.

Pur.

You shall goe to my wedding, with me and thi•• fair Chorus. I'm as nimble as a Lybian Rabbit: Come, you must go, though you be as lame as a criple, that b••••s at Westminster, or a Crow in a gutter with∣out her right leg. What d'ye wonder at? I tell you, she's my Penelope now.

Bla.

May I be so bold, Sir, as to ask, who 'tis you mean?

Pun.

'Slid, canst thou not see my mean∣ing? are your brains in a litter? I'm con∣tracted to your Neece, and have got upon her—Nay, never blush, we're as good as married, my dear Agat.

Bla.

Have you then lien with her?

Truman fil.

Ha! No figures nor similitudes, good Mr. Puny; be as open and naked with me, as you were with her.

Pun.

As plain as a Scholars mourning-cloak. I ha' don't i'faith, but d'ye see? We broke this gold between us first, and will be married to day. Who's that? Truman, ha, ha; he looks like the Globe of the World, now: look how he scratcheth his poul.

Bla.

God give you joy, Sir: but she has not a farthing portion.

Pun.

How, Captain?

Bla.

Not so much as will buy ribbands: all s mine own: a lawful prize, i'faith.

Tru. fil.

Oh monster of her sex!

Luc.

Wilt thou, vile man—I cannot speak to him—Witness all these—

Weeps.

Bla.

So 'tis all forfeited to me. Will you try how your sons affection stands towards Aurelia?

Tru. p▪

Come, Dick, the Captain has forgiven you: never think of Lucia; she's not worth your thinking on; a scurvie girl: ne'er think o' her; thou shalt marry fair Aurelia: there's a wench, a wench worth gold i'faith.

Tru. f.

I can't marry.

Tru. p.

What can't you do, Sir?

Tru. f.

I can't marry.

Tru p.

Do you know who 'tis you speak to, Sir? you do'n't sure: Who am I, pray? you can••t, when I bid you. Surely you know not who 'tis you speak to: you shall do't, or I'll know why you shall not.

Tru. f.

I won't marry.

Tru. p.

Get you out o' my sight: come within my doors no more; not within my doors, Sir.

Bla.

Take heed, M Truman, what you do.

Tru. f.

I wo'n't marry.

Luc.

Pray hear me all—

Bla.

Come, M. Truman, let's talk of these things within: come, Gentlemen.

Wid.

Hei-ho! I'll ne'er trust a wart o' the right cheek and a twinkling eye again whilst I breathe, for Mistress Lucia's sake. A man would, think, that sees her▪ that butter would not ha' melted in her mouth. Take heed, Tabytha; the still Sow eats up all the draff, I see.

Tru. p.

I'll never acknowledge him for my son again: I tell you, Captain, he's al∣ways thus; he's always with his may-be's and his wo'nots: I can't abide these wo'∣nots, not abide 'um.

Pun.

I ll follow him about the portion; he sha' not think to make an Asdrubal of me.

Dog.

Now my plot works.

Exeunt omnes praeter Tru. fil. & Lucia.

Act. 3. Scaen. 9.

Truman fil. Lucia weeping.

Tru.

How precious were those tears, if they were true ones! How much more worth then all the Oceans Jewels! But they are onely false and empty bubbles; Fair to the sight, but hollow as her heart: There's nothing, nothing in 'um: he that weighs 'um, Shall finde 'um lighter then a mad mans dreams, Or womens resolutions.

Luc.

I never did that fellow any wrong. Why should he pay so dearly for the loss Of my poor honour, as to sell his soul for't?

Tru.

O she confesses, now, sh'has lost her honour.

Luc.

They triumph in the ruine of us wo∣men, And wooe our beauties onely, or our dow∣ries; Which when they miss of, they resolve to take Revenge of their unworthiness on us; Stealing away all that makes rich our dowry, And beauty fair, our Name. But 'tis no matter, Since heaven and Truman know my chastity. Ha! he's here still! How do you, Sir?

Tru.

Well, well.

Luc.

You look ill.

Tru.

No, no, no.

Luc.

Indeed you do: your are not well, Im sure.

Tru.

I am. Will you be gone?

Luc.

How, Sir! You do not know me, sure.

Tru.

I would I never had.

Luc.

What do you mean?

Tru.

To see thy face no more.

Luc.

You said you could not live without the sight on't.

Tru.

It was a good one then.

Luc.

Has one day spoil'd it?

Tru.

O yes, more then an hundred yeers of time, Made as much more by a continual sorrow, Could e'er ha' done.

Luc.

I do not think my glass will say so.

Tru.

That's A false as you, perhaps; but 'tis not half So brittle. Dares your husband trust me alone With you so long?

Luc▪

My husband?

Tru

I cry you mercy; The man you sin withal. You scorn to use Pretences.

Luc.

Yes, I do, Sir: For she that scorns th' offence, needs no ex∣cuse Have you so little confidence in that Which you have seem'd to praise so oft, my Vertues? Or did you flatter onely? Sure you did not: For I remember I have heard you swear You spoke your thoughts. Are Oathes but complements? 'Tis done unkindly, very unkindly, Truman; And were 't not your self, I should be angry. Had a bright Angel come to me, and said That you were false, I should have sworn ••t had ly'd, And thought that rather false then you. No∣thing Could ever move th' opinion of thy con∣stancy But thine own self; and thee I must believe.

Tru

And I'll believe my self in what I saw. I know thou canst speak prettily; but thy words Are not what Nature meant 'um, thy mindes picture. The Bee has left his honey in thy tongue, But in thy heart his sting.

Luc.

O do not say so: My heart is honest still, unless thou spoildst it When it receiv'd thee in. 'T had but three corners. And thou hadst two, at least. Would thou couldst see How little room I've left my self there in it.

Tru.

Yes; for 'tis crouded up with many guests; So many guests, that they excluded me: And now I freeze without; but never more, Never will enter: 'twas a Palace once, But now tis turn'd a Dungeon.

Luc

Will you leave me? I will not call you fickle nor unconstant; But sure you are too blame: you will not find A woman that will love you half so well.

Tru.

I do not mean to try.

Luc.

Yes, prithee do. But when y'have talk'd, and lov'd and vow'd, and sworn A little while, take heed of using her As you do me. No, may your love to her Be such as mine to you; it can't be better, What e'er you think; I'm sure it cannot, Truman. May she be worthier of your bed then I, And bring forth many little selves to you: And when the happie course of divers yeers Makes you seem old to all besides your wife, May you in the fair glass of your blest issue, See your own youth again. But I would have 'um True in their loves, and kill no innocent maids. For me it is no matter: when I'm dead, My busie soul shall slutter still about you; 'Twill not be else in heaven: it shall watch Over your sleeps, and drive away all dreams That flie not with a soft and downy wing. If any dangers threaten, it shall becken, And call your spirit away till they be past; And be more diligent then your Guardian-Angel. Onely sometimes, when your best leasure serves, (For I'd not trouble you more dead then living) Bestow ••ne thought on Lucia, and then sigh, And (if you will) drop down a tear or two. But that's a task Ill not enjoyn you to: And if you do't, spend not too many on me; One will suffice: then onely say, That maid Deserv'd more of me. And again t'your business. For my wrongd vertue and forsaken truth,

I ask no more. So, dear False-man, farewel.

Exit.

Tru.

Farewel? That word has charms and poisons in••t; It makes my frighted soul start back and tremble. 'Tis but an aery word. D'ye hear me, Lucia?

Luc.

(within)

Who calls?

Tru.

Farewel, Lucia, farewel; that's all: farewel Repent, and meet me in heav'n— Why did rash Nature quarrel with her self, In making one so excellently bad? She is more fair then May••s new painted blossoms, But falser then the smiles of faithless April: And this I know, and yet me thinks I love her. O she has kill'd my Reason: I have lost That and my self for ever.

Exit.

Finis Actus tertii.