Three new playes; viz. The [brace] bashful lover, Guardian, Very woman. As they have been often acted at the private-house in Black-Friers, by His late Majesties Servants, with great applause. / Written by Philip Massenger, Gent. Never printed before.

Act. 5. Scaen. 1.

Enter Alonzo, Octavio, Pisano, Maria (with a purse) Gothrio.

Alon.

YOu need not doubt sir, were not peace pro∣claim'd And celebrated with a general joy, The high displeasure of the Mantuan Duke, Rais'd on just grounds, not jealous suppositions. The saving of our lives (which next to heaven To you alone is proper) would force mercy For an offence though capital.

Pisa.

When the Conqueror Uses Intreaties, they are arm'd Commands The vanquish'd must not check at.

Asc.

My piety pay the forfeit, If danger come but near you. I have heard My gracious Mistress often mention you, (When I serv'd her as a Page) and feelingly Relate how much the Duke her sire repented His hasty doom of banishment, in his rage Pronounc'd against you.

Oct.

In a private difference, I grant that Innocence is a wall of brass, And scorns the hottest battery: but when The cause depends between the Prince and Subject, 'Tis an unequal competition; Justice Must lay her ballance by, and use her sword For his ends that protects it. I was banish'd, And till revoked from exile, to tread on My Soveraigns territories with forbidden feet,

The severe letter of the Law calls death, Which I am subject to in coming so neer His Court and person. But my onely Child Being provided for, her honor salv'd too, I thank your noble change, I shall endure Whate'r can fall with patience.

Alonz.

You have us'd that medicine too long; prepare your self For honor in your age, and rest secure of't.

Asc.

Of what is your wisdom musing?

Goth.

I am gazing on This gorgeous House, our Cote's a dishclout to it; It has no sign, what do you call't?

Asc.

The Court; I have liv'd in't a Page.

Goth.

Page! very pretty: May I not be a Page? I am old enough, Well timber'd too, and I have a beard to carry it: Pray you let me be your Page, I can swear already Upon your pantable.

Asc.

What?

Goth.

That I'll be true unto your smock.

Asc.

How, Rascal?

Oct.

Hence, and pimp To your Rams and Ews; such foul pollution is To be whipt from Court: I have now no more use of you, Return to your trough.

Goth.

Must I feed on husks, before I have plaid the prodigal?

Oct.

No, I'll reward Your service; live in your own element Like an honest man; all that is mine in the cottage I freely give you.

Goth.

Your Bottles too, that I carry for your own tooth?

Oct.

Full as they are.

Asc.

And gold, that will replenish 'em.

Goth.

I am made for ever, this was done in the nick.

Oct.

Why in the nick?

Goth.

O sir, 'twas well for me that you did reward my service Before you enter'd the Court; for 'tis reported There is a drink of Forgetfulness, which once tasted, Few masters think of their servants, who grown old, Are turn'd off like lame hounds and hunting-horses, To starve on the Commons.

Alonz.

Bitter Knave! there's craft i'the clouted shoo. Captain!

Enter Martino.

Mart.

I am glad to kiss Your valiant hand, and yours: but pray you take notice My title's chang'd, I am a Colonel.

Pisa.

A Colonel! where's your Regiment?

Mart.

Not rais'd yet; All the old ones are cashier'd, and we are now To have a new Militia. All is peace here, Yet I hold my title still, as many do That never saw an Enemy.

Alonz.

You are pleasant, And it becomes you. Is the Duke stirring?

Mar.

Long since, Four hours at least, but yet not ready.

Pisa.

How?

Mart.

Even so; you make a wonder of't, but leave it: Alas, he is not now (sir) in the Camp, To be up and arm'd upon the least alarum; There's something else to be thought on. Here he comes, with his Officers, new rigg'd.

Enter Lorenzo, Doctor, Gent. Page (imployed about him as from his chamber.)

Alon.

A looking-glass! Upon my head he saw not his own face These seven years past, but by reflexion From a bright armor.

Mart.

Be silent, and observe.

Lor.

So, have you done yet? Is your building perfect?

Doct.

If your Highness please, here is a water.

Lor.

To what use? my Barber Hath wash'd my face already.

Doct.

But this water Hath a strange vertue in't, beyond his art; It is a sacred Relique, part of that Most powerful Juice, which with Medea made Old AEson young.

Lor.

A fable; but suppose I should give credit to it, will it work The same effect on me?

Doct.

I'll undertake This will restore the honour'd hair that grows Upon your Highness head and chin, a little Inclining unto gray.

Lor.

Inclining! Doctor:

Doct.

Pardon me, mighty sir, I went too far, Not gray at all; I dare not flatter you, 'Tis something chang'd, but this apply'd will help it To the first amber-colour, every hair As fresh as when, your manhood in the prime, Your Grace arriv'd at thirty.

Lor.

Very well.

Doct.

Then here's a pretious oil (to which the maker

Hath not yet given a name) will soon fill up These dimples in your face and front. I grant They are terrible to your enemies, and set off Your frowns with majesty: but you may please To know (as sure you do) a smooth aspect, Softness and sweetness, in the Court of Love, Though dumb, are the prevailing Orators.

Lor.

Will he new create me?

Doct:

If you daign to taste too Of this Confection.

Lor.

I am in health, and need no physick.

Doct.

Physick sir! an Empress (If that an Empress lungs, sir, may be tainted With putrifaction) would taste of it That night on which she were to print a kiss Upon the lips of her long absent Lord, Returning home with conquest.

Lor.

It is predominant Over a stinking breath, is it not Doctor?

Doct.

Clothe the infirmity with sweeter language, 'Tis a preservative that way.

Lor.

You are then admitted to the Cabinets of great Ladies, And have the government of the borrowed beauties, Of such as write neer forty?

Doct.

True, my good Lord, and my attempts have prosper'd.

Lor.

Did you never minister to the Princess?

Doct.

Sir, not yet; She's in the April of her youth, and needs not The aids of art, my gracious Lord: but in The Autumn of her age I may be useful, And sworn her Highness Doctor, and your Grace partake Of the delight.

Lor.

Slave! Witch! Impostor!

[Kicks him]

Mountebank! Cheater! Traitor to great Nature, In thy presumption to repair what she In her immutable decrees design'd For some few years to grow up, and then wither Or is't not crime enough thus to betray The secrets of the weaker sex, thy patients, But thou must make the honor of this age And envy of the time to come, Matilda, (Whose sacred name I bow to) guilty of A future sin in thy ill-boding thoughts, Which for a perpetuity of youth And pleasure she disdains to act, such is Her purity and innocencce? His foot on the Doctors breast.

Alonz.

Long since I look'd for this Lenvoy.

Mart.

Would I were well off! He's dangerous in these humours.

Oct.

Stand conceal'd.

Doct.

O sir, have mercy! in my thought I never Offended you.

Lor.

Me? most of all, thou monster: What a Mock-man property in thy intent Wouldst thou have made me? a meer Pathick to Thy devilish art, had I given suffrage to it. Are my gray hairs, the ornament of age, And held a blessing by the wiseft men, And for such warranted by holy Writ, To be conceal'd, as if they were my shame? Or plaister up these furrows in my face, As if I were a painted Bawd or Whore? By such base means if that I could ascend To the height of all my hopes, their full fruition Would not wipe off the scandal. No, thou wretch, Thy cozening Water and adulterate Oil I thus pour in thine eyes, and tread to dust Thy loth'd Confection, with thy trumperies: Vanish for ever.

Mart.

You have your fee, as I take it, Dear Domine Doctor! I'll be no sharer with you.

Exit Doctor.

Lor.

I'll court her like my self; these rich adorn∣ments And Jewels, worn by me an absolute Prince, My Order too, of which I am the Soveraign, Can meet no ill construction: yet 'tis far From my imagination to believe She can be taken with sublimed clay, The Silk-worms spoils, or rich Embroderies; Nor must I borrow helps from power or greatness, But as a loyal Lover plead my cause, If I can feelingly express my ardor, And make her sensible of the much I suffer In hopes and fears, and she vouchsafe to take Compassion on me, — Ha! compassion? The word sticks in my throat: what's here that tels me I do descend too low? rebellious spirit, I conjure thee to leave me: there is now No contradiction or declining left, I must and will go on.

Mart.

The tempest's laid; you may present your selves:

Alon.

My gracious Lord!

Pisa.

Your humble Vassal.

Lor.

Ha! both living?

Alon.

Sir, we owe our lives to this good Lord, and make it Our humble suit—

Lor.

Plead for your selves: we stand Yet unresolv'd whether your knees or prayers Can save the forfeiture of your own heads: Though we have put our armor off, your pardon For leaving the Camp without our licence Is not yet sign'd. At some more fit time wait us.

Ex. Lor. and Attendants.

Alon.

How's this?

Mart.

'Tis well it is no worse; I met with A rougher entertainment, yet I had Good cards to shew: He's parcel mad, you'll find him Every hour in a several mood, this foolish Love Is such a shuttlecock; but all will be well When a better fit comes on him, never doubt it:

Exeunt.

Enter Gonzaga, Uberti, Farneze, Manfroy.

Gonz.

How do you find her?

Uber.

Thankful for my service, And yet she gives me little hope; my Rival Is too great for me.

Gonz.

The great Duke you mean.

Uber.

Who else? the Millanois (although he be A compleat Gentleman) I am sure despairs more then my self.

Far.

A high estate, with women, Takes place of all desert.

Uber.

I must stand my fortune.

Enter Lorenzo and Attendants.

Manf.

The Duke of Florence! sir.

Gonz.

Your Highness presence Answers my wish. Your private ear: — I have us'd My best perswasion with a Fathers power To work my daughter to your ends; yet she Like a small Bark on a tempestuous sea Toss'd here and there by opposite winds, resolves not At which port to put in, this Prince's merits, Your grace and favor; nor is she unmindful Of the brave acts (under your pardon sir I needs must call them so) Hortensio Hath done to gain her good opinion of him: All these together tumbling in her fancie,

Do much distract her; I have spies upon her, And am assur'd this instant hour she gives Hortensio private audience; I will bring you Where we will see and hear all.

Lor.

You oblige me.

Uber.

I do not like this whispering.

Gonz.

Fear no foul play.

Exeunt.

Enter Galeazo, and two Waiting-women.

1 Wo.

The Princess, sir, long since expected you; And would I beg a thanks, I could tell you that I have often mov'd her for you.

Gal.

I am your servant.

Enter Matilda.

Beat.

She's come; there are others I must place to hear The conference.

Exit.

1 Wo.

Is't your Excellencies pleasure that we at∣tend you?

Mat.

No, wait me in the gallery.

1 Wo.

Would each of us, Wench, had a Sweet∣heart too! To pass away the time:

2 Wo.

There I join with you.

Ex. Waiting-women.

Mat.

I fear this is the last time we shall meet.

Gal.

Heaven forbid!

Enter (above) Beatrix, Lorenzo, Gonzaga, Uberti, Farneze.

Mat.

O my Hortensio! In me behold the misery of Greatness,

And that which you call Beauty: had I been Of a more low condition, I might Have call'd my will and faculties mine own, Not seeing that which was to be belov'd With others eyes: But now, ay me, most wretched And miserable Princess! in my fortune To be too much engag'd for service done me, It being impossible to make satisfaction To my so many Creditors, (all deserving) I can keep touch with none.

Lor.

A sad Exordiam.

Mat.

You lov'd me long, and without hope, (alas, I die to think on't!) Parma's Prince invited With a too partial report of what I was, and might be to him, left his Country To fight in my defence. Your brave atchievements I'the war, and what you did for me, unspoken, (Because I would not force the sweetness of Your modesty to a blush) are written here. And that there might be nothing wanting to Sum up my numerous engagements (never In my hopes to be cancell'd) the great Duke Our mortal enemy, when my Fathers Country Lay open to his fury, and the spoil Of the victorious Army, and I brought Into his power, hath shewn himself so Noble, so full of honor, temperance, And all vertues that can set off a Prince, That though I cannot render him that respect I would, I am bound in thankfulness to admire him.

Gal.

'Tis acknowledg'd, and on your part to be return'd.

Mat.

How can I, Without the brand of foul ingratitude To you, and Prince Uberti?

Gal.

Hear me, Madam,

And what your servant shall with zeal deliver, As a Dedalean clew may guide you out of This labyrinth of distraction. He that loves His Mistress truly, should prefer her honor And peace of mind, above the glutting of His ravenous appetite: He should affect from her, But with a fit restraint, and not take her To give himself: He should make it the heigth Of his ambition, if it lie in His stretch'd out nerves to effect it, though she flie in An eminent place, to add strength to her wings, And mount her higher, though he fall himself Into the bottomless Abyss; or else The services he offers are not real, But counterfeit.

Mat.

What can Hortensio infer from this?

Gal.

That I stand bound in duty (Though in the act I take my last farewell Of comfort in this life) to sit down willingly, And move my suit no further. I confess, While you were in danger, and Heavens mercy made me Its instrument to preserve you, (which your goodness Priz'd far above the merit) I was bold To feed my starv'd affection with false hopes I might be worthy of you: For know, Madam, How mean soever I appear'd in Mantua, I had in expectation a fortune, Though not possess'd of't, that encourag'd me With confidence to prefer my suit, and not To fear the Prince Uberti as my Rival.

Gonz:

I ever thought him more then what he seem'd.

Lor.

Pray you forbear.

Gal.

But when the Duke of Florence Put in his plea, in my consideration Weighing well what he is, as you must grant him,

A Mars of men in Arms; and those put off, The great example for a Kingly Courtier To imitate: Annex to these his wealth, Of such a large extent, as other Monarchs Call him the King of Coin; and what's above all. His lawful love, with all the happiness This life can fancie, from him flowing to you; The true affection which I have ever borne you, Does not alone command me to desist, But as a faithful Councellor to advise you To meet and welcom that felicity Which hastes to crown your vertues.

Mat.

We must break off this parley. Something I have to say.

[Exe: above]

Mat.

In tears I thank Your care of my advancement; but I dare not Follow your councel: Shall such piety Pass unrewarded? such a pure affection, For any ends of mine, be undervalu'd? Avert it Heaven! I will be thy Matilda, Or cease to be; No other heat but what Glows from thy purest flames, shal warm this bosom; Nor Florence, nor all Monarchs of the earth Shall keep thee from me.

Enter Lorenzo, Gonzaga, Uberti, Farneze, Manfroy, two Waiting-women.

Gal.

I fear, gracious Lady, Our conference hath been oreheard.

Mat.

The better: Your part is acted; give me leave at distance To zanie it, sir, on my knees thus prostrate Before your feet.

Lor.

This must not be, I shall Both wrong my self and you in suffering it.

Mat.

I will grow here, and weeping thus turn marble, Unless you hear and grant the first petition A virgin, and a Princess ever tendred: Nor doth the suit concern poor me alone, It hath a strong reference to you And to your honor; and if you deny it, Both ways you suffer. Remember, sir, you were not Born only for your self; Heavens liberal hand Design'd you to command a potent Nation, Gave you heroick valour, which you have Abus'd in making unjust war upon A neighbour Prince, a Christian; while the Turk, Whose scourge and terror you should be, securely Wastes the Italian Confines: 'tis in you To force him to pull in his horned Crescents, And 'tis expected from you.

Lor.

I have been in a dream, and now begin to wake.

Mat.

And will you forbear to reap the harvest of such glories, Now ripe and at full growth, for the embraces Of a flight woman? or exchange your triumphs For chamber-pleasures? melt your able nerves (That should with your victorious sword make way Through the Armies of your Enemies) in loose And wanton dalliance? Be your self, great sir, The thunderbolt of war, and scorn to sever Two hearts long since united: your example May teach the Prince Uberti to subscribe To that which you allow of.

Lor.

The same tongue That charm'd my sword out of my hand, and threw A frozen numness on my active spirit, Hath dis-enchanted me. Rise, fairest Princess! And that it may appear I do receive

Your councel as inspir'd from heaven, I will Obey and follow it: I am your debtor, And must confess you have lent my weakned reason New strengths once more to hold a full command Over my passions. Here to the world I freely do profess that I disclaim All interest in you, and give up my title Such as it is, to you sir: and as far As I have power, thus join your hands.

Gonz.

To yours I add my full consent.

Uber.

I am lost, Farneze.

Far:

Neerer to the port then you suppose: In me our laws speak, and forbid this contract.

Mat.

Ay me! new stops!

Gat.

Shall we be ever cross'd thus?

Far.

There is an Act upon record, confirm'd By your wise predecessors, that no Heir Of Mantua (as questionless the Princess Is the undoubted one) must be join'd in marriage, But where the match may strengthen the estate And safety of the Dukedom. Now this Gentleman, However I must stile him honorable, And of a high desert, having no power To make this good in his alliance, stands Excluded by our laws: whereas this Prince Of equal merit, brings to Mantua The power and Principality of Parma: And therefore since the great Duke hath let fall His plea, there lives no Prince that justlier can Challenge the Princess favor.

Lor.

Is this true, sir?

Gonz.

I cannot contradict it.

Enter Manfroy.

Manf.

There's an Ambassador

From Milain, that desires a present audience; His business is of highest consequence, As he affirms: I know him for a man Of the best rank and quality.

Gal.

From Milain?

Gonz.

Admit him. — How? so low!

Enter Ambassador, and Julio with a Letter, which he presents on his knee to Galeazo.

Amb.

I am sorry, sir, to be the bringer of this heavy news: But since it must be known —

Gal.

Peace rest with him, I shall find fitter time to mourn his loss. My faithful servant too, Julio!

Jul.

I am orejoy'd to see your Highness safe.

Gal.

Pray you peruse this, And there you'll find that the objection The Lord Farneze made, is fully answer'd.

Gonz.

The great John Galeas dead?

Lor.

And this his brother, the absolute Lord of Milain.

Mat.

I am reviv'd.

Uber.

There's no contending against destiny, I wish both happiness.

Enter Alonzo, Maria, Octavio, Pisano, Martino.

Lor:

Married, Alonzo? I will salute your Lady, she's a fair one, And seal your pardon on her lips.

Gonz.

Octavio, welcom even to my heart! Rise, I should kneel To thee for mercy.

Oct:

The poor remainder of My age shall truly serve you.

Mat.

You resemble a Page I had, Ascanio.

Asc.

I am your Highness servant still.

Lor.

All stand amaz'd At this unlook'd for meeting: But defer Your several stories. Fortune here hath shewn Her various power; but Vertue in the end Is crown'd with laurel: Love hath done his parts too; And mutual friendship after bloody jars, Will cure the wounds received in our wars.

Exeunt omnes.