Two new playes ... written by Tho. Middleton, Gent.

MORE DISSEMBLERS BESIDES WOMEN.

The First Part.

Act. 1.

Scaen. 1.

Enter Lactantio, and Aurelia, and Servant.

Musick.

SONG.

TO be chaste, is Womans glory, 'Tis her fame and honors story. Here sits she in Funeral weeds▪ Onely bright in vertuous deeds. Come and read her life and praise, That singing weeps, and sighing plays.

Lact.

WElcome Souls Musick: I have been listening here To melancholly strains from the Dutchess lodgings. That strange great Widow, that has vow'd so stifly Never to know loves heat in a second Husband: And she has kept the Fort most valiantly (To th' wonder of her Sex) this seven years day; And that's no sorry tryal. A moneths constancy Is held a vertue in a City-widow,

And are they excel'd by so much more i'ch' Court? 'My faith a rare example for our Wives. Heavens blessing of her heart for't poor Soul, Sh'ad need have somewhat to comfort her. What wouldst thou do? Faith now If I were dead, suppose I wear thy Husband, (As shortly I will be, and that's as good) Speak freely, and thou lov'st me.

Aur.

Alas Sir, I should not have the leasure to make Vows, For dying presently, I should be dead Before you were laid out.

Lact.

Now fye upon thee for a hasty dier, Wouldst thou not see me buried?

Aur.

Talk not on't Sir, These many years, unless you take delight To see me swoun, or make a ghost of me.

Lact.

Alas poor Soul, i'll kiss thee into colour, Canst thou paint pale so quickly, I perceive then Thou'dst go beyond the Dutchess in her vow, Thou'dst die indeed: What's he?

Aur.

Be setled Sir, Spend neither doubt, nor fear upon that fellow, Health cannot be more trusty to mans life, Then he to my necessities in love.

Lact.

I take him of thy word, and praise his face, Though he look scurvily, I will think hereafter That honesty may walk with fire in's Nose, As well as brave desert in broken clothes: But for thy further safety, I've provided A shape, that at first sight will start thy modesty, And make thee blush perhaps; but 'twill away After a qualm or two. Virginity Has been put often to those shifts before thee Upon extremities; a little boldness Cannot be call'd immodesty, especially

When there's no means without it, for our safeties; Thou knowest my Uncle the Lord Cardinal Wears so severe an eye, so strict and holy, It not endures the sight of Woman-kinde About his Lodgings; Hardly a Matron of Four-score's admitted, Though she be worn to gums, she comes not there, To mumble Mattens, all his admiration Is plac'd upon the Dutchess; he likes her, Because she keeps her vow, and likes not any; So do's he love that man, above his Book, That loves no woman, for my Fortunes sake then, For I am like to be his onely Heir. I must dissemble and appear as fair To his opinion, as the brow of Piety; As void of all impureness as an Altar, Thine ear—that, and we are safe.

Aur.

You make me blush Sir.

Lact.

'Tis but a star shot from a beauteous cheek, It blazes Beauties bounty, and hurts nothing.

Aur.

The power of Love commands me.

Lact.

I shall wither in comforts, till I see thee.

Exeunt.

Scaen. 2.

Enter L. Cardinal in his Closet, and two or three Lords.

L. Card.

My Lords, I have work for you, when you have hours Free from the cares of State, bestow your eyes Upon those abstracts of the Dutchess vertues, My studies ornaments. I make her Constancy The holy Mistress of my contemplation, Whole volumes have I writ in zealous praise Of her eternal vow: I have no power To suffer Vertue to go thinly clad,

I that have ever been in youth, an old man To pleasures and to women, and could never love, but pity 'em, And all their momentary frantick follies. Here I stand up in admiration, And bow to the chaste health of our great Dutchess, Kissing her constant name, O my fair Lords, When we finde grace confirm'd, especially In a creature that's so doubtful as a woman, We'are spirit ravish'd, men of our probation Feel the Sphears, Musick playing in their Souls So long, unto the eternizing of her sex. Sh'as kept her vow so strictly, and as chaste As everlasting life is kept for Vertue. Ev'n from the sight of men, to make her oath As uncorrupt as th'honor of a Virgin That must be strict in thought, or else that title, Like one of Frailties ruines, shrinks to dust. No longer she's a Virgin, then she's just.

1. Lord.

Chaste Sir, the Truth and Justice of her Vow To her deceased Lord's able to make poor Mans treasury of praises. But methinks She that has no temptation set before her, Her Vertue has no conquest; then would her con∣stancy Shine in the brightest goodness of her glory▪ If she would give admittance, see, and be seen; And yet resist, and conquer. There were argument For Angels, 't would out-reach the life of praise, Set in Mortalities shortness. I speak this Not for Religion, but for love of her, Whom I wish less religious, and more loving: But I fear she's too constant, that's her fault, But 'tis so rare, few of her sex are took with't, And that makes some amends.

L. Card.

You have put my zeal into a way, my Lord. I shall not be at peace, till I make perfect; I'll make her victory harder, 'tis my crown When I bring grace to great'st perfection; And I dare trust that daughter with a world, None but her vow and she. I know she wea••s A constancy, will not deceive my praises, A Faith so noble; she that once knows Heaven, Need put in no security for her truth; I dare believe her face, use all the art, Temptation, witcheries, sleights, and subtleties, You Temporal Lords, and all your means can pra∣ctise.

2. Lord.

My Lord, not any we▪

L. Card.

Her resolute goodness Shall as a Rock stand firm, and send the sin That beat against it, into the bosom of the owners, weeping.

3. Lord.

We with her vertues so.

L. Card.

O give me pardon, I have lost my self in her, upon my friends. Your charitable censures I beseech, So dear her white fame is to my souls love▪ 'Tis an affliction; but to hear it question'd, She's my religious triumph. If you desire a belief rightly to her, Think she can never waver then you'r sure. She has a fixed heart, it cannot erre; He kills my hopes of woman, that doubts her.

1. Lord.

No more, my Lord, 'tis fixt.

L. Card.

Believe my Judgment, I never praise in vain, nor ever spent Opinion idlely, or lost hopes of any, Where I once plac'd it; welcome as my joys. Now you all part believers of her Vertue.

All L.

We are the same most firmly▪

L. Card.

Good opinion In others reward you, and all your actions. Who's neer us?

Enter a Servant.

Serv.

My Lord▪

L. Card.

Call our Nephew: There's a work too That for bloods sake I labor to make perfect, And it comes on with joy; he's but a youth To speak of years, yet I dare venture him To old mens goodnesses and gravities, For his strict manners, and win glory by him; And for the chastness of his continence (Which is a rare grace in the spring of man) He do's excel the youth of all our time, Which gift of his more then affinity, Draws my affection in great plenty to him. The company of a woman is as fearful to him, As death to guilty men: I'have seen him blush, When but a Maid was nam'd; I'm proud of him, Heaven be not angry for't: He's near of kin In disposition to me. I shall do much for him In life time, but in death I shall do all; There he will finde my love. He's yet too yong In years to rise in state, but his good parts Will bring him in the sooner: Here he comes.

Enter Lactantio with a Book.

What at thy Meditation? half in Heaven.

Lact.

The better half my Lord, my minde's there still. And when the heart's above, the body walks here But like an idle Serving-man below, Gaping and waiting for his Masters coming.

L. Card.

What man in age, could bring forth graver thoughts?

Lact.

He that lives Fourscore years, is but like one That stays here for a Friend; when death comes, then Away he goes, and is ne'er seen again. I wonder at the yongmen of our days, That they can dote on pleasure, or what 'tis They give that title too, unless in mockage. There's nothing I can finde upon the Earth, Worthy the name of pleasure, unless 't be To laugh at folly; which indeed good Charity Should rather pitty: But of all the frenzies That follow flesh and blood (O reverend Uncle) The most ridiculous is to fawn on women; There's no excuse for that, 'tis such a madness, There is no cure set down for't, no Physitian Ever spent hour about it, for they ghest 'Twas all in vain, when they first lov'd themselves, And never since durst practise, cry Heu mihi, That's all the help they have for't. I had rather meet A Witch far North, then a fine Fool in love, The sight would less afflict me, but for modesty; And your grave presence, that learns men respect, I should fall foul in words upon fond man That can forget his excellence and honor, His serious Meditations being the end Of his Creation, to learn well to die, And live a prisoner to a womans eye. Can there be greater thraldom, greater folly?

L. Card.

In making him my heir, I make good works, And they give wealth a blessing, where on the con∣trary, What curses does he heap upon his soul That leaves his riches to a riotous yong man, To be consum'd on Surfeits, Pride, and Harlets,

Peace be upon that spirit, whose life provides A quiet rest for mine.

Enter Page with a Letter.

Lact.

How now, the news?

Page.

A Letter Sir, brought by a Gentleman That lately came from Rome.

Lact.

That's she, she's come: I fear not to admit her in his presence; There is the like already. I'm writ chaste In my grave Uncles thoughts, and honest meanings Think all men's like their own—Thou look'st so pale, What ail'st thou here a' late.

Page.

I doubt I have cause Sir.

Lact.

Why, what's the news?

Page.

I fear Sir I'm with childe:

Lact.

With childe; peace, peace, speak low:

Page.

'Twill prove I fear so.

Lact.

Beshrew my heart for that—Desire the Gentleman To walk a turn or two.

L. Card.

What Gentleman?

Lact.

One lately come from Rome, my Lord, in credit, With L. Vincentio; so the Letter speaks him.

L. Card.

Admit him, my kinde Boy; the pretti∣est Servant That ever man was blest with; 'tis so meek, So good and gentle, 'twas the best almsdeed That ere you did, to keep him. I have oft took him Weeping alone (poor Boy) at the remembrance Of his lost friends; which as he says, the Sea Swallow'd with all their substance.

Lact.

'Tis a truth Sir, Has cost the poor Boy many a feeling tear, And me some too, for company. In such pity, I always spend my part: Here comes the Gentleman.

Enter Aurelia like a Gentleman.

L. Card.

Welcome to Milan Sir, how is the health Of L. Vincentio.

Aur.

May it please your Grace, I left it well and happy, and I hope The same: Blest Fortune keeps it:

L. Card.

I hear your near him.

Aur.

One of his Chamber, my Lord.

Lact.

I'd near wish one of her condition nearer, Then to be one of mine.

L. Card.

Your news is pleasing; Whilst you remain in Milan, I request you, To know the welcome of no house but ours.

Aur.

Thanks to your Grace.

L. Card.

I'll leave you to confer; I'll to the Dutchess, and labor her perfection.

Exit Cardinal.

Lact.

Then thus begins our conference, I arrest thee In Cupids name, deliver up your weapon, It is not for your wearing, Venus knows it. Here's a fit thing indeed, nay, Hangers and all, Away with 'em, out upon 'em, things of trouble, And out of use with you: Now y'are my prisoner, And till you swear you love me, all, and onely You, part not from mine arms.

Aur.

I swear it willingly.

Lact.

And that you do renounce the Generals love That heretofore laid claim to you.

Aur.

My heart bids me You need not teach me, that my eye ne'r knew A perfect choice, till it stood blest with you. There's yet a rival, whom you little dream of, Tax me with him, and I'll swear too, I hate him. I'll thrust 'em both together in one Oath,

And send'em to some pair of waiting-women, To solder up their credits.

Lact.

Prethee what's he Another yet, for laughter sake discover him.

Aur.

The Governor of the Fort:

Lact.

That old dri'd Neat's tongue.

Aur.

A Gentleman after my Fathers rellish.

Enter Father and Governor.

Father.

By your kinde favors Gentlemen:

Aur.

O my Father, We are both betray'd.

Lact.

Peace, you may prove too fearful. To whom your business Sir.

Fath.

To the Lord Cardinal, If it would please your self, or that yong Gentle∣man, To grace me with admittance.

Lact.

I will see Sir, The Gentlemans a stranger, new come o'er. He understands you not—Loff tro veen, Tantum∣bro, Hoff Tufftee Locumber shaw.

Aur.

Quisquimken, sapadlaman, Fool-urchin old Astrata.

Father.

Nay, and that be the Language, we can speak't too: Strumpettikin, Bold Harlottum Queaninisma, Whoremongeria. Shame to thy Sex, and sorrow to thy Father. Is this a shape for reputation? And modesty to mask in? Thou too cunning For credulous goodness. Did not a reverent respect and honor That's due unto the Sanctimonious peace Of this Lords house, restrain my voice and anger,

And teach it soft Humility: I would lift Both your disgraces to the height of grief That you have rais'd in me; but to shame you I will not cast a blemish upon Vertue. Call that your happiness, and the dearest too. That such a bold attempt could ever boast off. We'll see if a strong Fort can hold you now, Take her Sir to you.

Gover.

How have I deserv'd The strangeness of this hour?

Father.

Talk not so tamely, For you Sir, thank the reverence of this place, Or your Hypocrisie I had put out of grace, I had 'ifaith, if ever I can fit you, Expect to hear from me.

Exeunt:

Lact.

I thank you Sir, The Cough o'th' Lungs requite you: I could curse him Into diseases by whole dozens now. But one's enough to begger him, if he light Upon a wise Physitian. 'Tis a labor To keep those little wits I have about me. Still did I dream that Villain would betray her. I'll never trust slave with a parboil'd nose again. I must devise some trick to excuse her absence Now to my Uncle too; there is no mischeif But brings one Villain or other still Ev'n close at heels on't. I'm pain'd at heart: If ever there were hope of me to die For love, 'tis now, I never felt such gripings▪ If I can scape this Climacterical year, Women ne'er trust me, though you hear me swear. Kept with him in the Fort, why there's no hope Of ever meeting now; my ways not thither, Love bless us with some means to get together, And I'll pay all the old rock'nings.

Exit.

Scaen. 3.

Enter Dutchess, above, and Celia.

Dutch.

What a contented rest rewards my minde For faithfulness; I give it Constancy, And it returns me Peace: How happily Might woman live, methinks, confin'd within The knowledge of one Husband? What comes of more, rather proclaims Desire Prince of affections, then religious love; Brings frailty and our weakness into question; 'Mongst our Male enemies▪ makes Widows tears, Rather the cup of laughter then of pity? What credit can our sorrows have with men, When in some moneths space, they turn light again; Feast, dance, and go in colours? If my vow Were yet to make, I would not sleep without it, Or make a Faith as perfect to my self In resolution, as a vow would come to; And do as much right so to Constancy, As strictness could require: For 'tis our goodness, And not our strength that do's it. I am arm'd now 'Gainst all deserts in man, be't Valor, Wisdom, Curtesie, Comeliness, nay, Truth it self, Which seldom keeps him company. I commend The Vertues highly, as I do an Instrument When the Case hangs by th'Wall; but man himself Never comes near my heart.

Enter Lord Cardinal.

L. Card.

The blessing of Perfection to your thoughts, Lady, For I'm resolv'd they are good ones,

Dutch.

Honor of greatness,

Friend to my vow, and Father to my fame, Welcome, as Peace to Temples.

L. Card.

I bring War.

Dutch

How Sir?

L. Card.

A harder fight: If now you con∣quer, You crown my praises double.

Dutch.

What's your aym Sir?

L. Card.

To astonish sin, and all her tempting evils, And make your goodness shine more glorious, When your fair noble vow show'd you the way To excellence in vertue, to keep back The fears that might discourage you at first, Pitying your strength, it shew'd you not the worst. 'Tis not enough for Tapers to burn bright, But to be seen, so to lend others light, Yet not impair themselves, their flame as pure, As when it shin'd in secret, so t'abide Temptations, is the Souls flame truly try'd. I have an ambition, but a vertuous one, I would have nothing want to your Perfection.

Dutch.

Is there a doubt found yet, is it so hard For woman to recover, with all diligence, And a true fasting faith from sensual pleasure, What many of her sex has so long lost: Can you believe that any sight of man, Held he the worth of Millions in one spirit, Had power to alter me

L. Card:

No, there's my bope, My credit, and my triumph.

Dutch▪

I'll no more, Keep strictly private, since the glory on't Is but a vertue question'd; I'll come forth And show my self to all, the world shall witness,

That like the Sun, my Constancy can look On Earth's corruptions, and shine clear it self.

L. Card.

Hold conquest now, and I have all my wishes.

Cornets: And a shout within

Dutch.

The meaning of that sudden shout, my Lord.

L. Card.

Seignior Andrugio, General of the Field; Successful in his Fortunes, is ariv'd, And met by all the gallant hopes of Milan. Welcom'd with Laurel wreaths, and Hymns of praises. Vouchsafe but you, to give him the first grace Ma∣dam, Of your so long hid presence, he has then All honors that can bless victorious man.

Dutch.

You shall prevail grave Sir.

Enter Andrugio, attended with the Nobility and State, like a Victor.

Musick.

SONG.

LAurel is a Victors due, I give it you, I give it you. Thy name with praise, Thy brow with bays; We circle round. All men rejoyce With cheerful voice, To see thee like a Conqueror crown'd.

A Cupid discending, sings this. I am a little Conqueror too For wreaths of bay••,

There's Arms of cross, And that's my due. I give the flaming heart, It is my crest. And by the Mothers side, The weeping eye, The sighing brest. It is not power in you, fair beauties, If I command Love, 'tis your duties.

Ascend.

During these Songs, Andrugio peruses a Letter delivered him by a Lord, and then closes with this Song below.

Welcome, Welcome, Son of Fame, Honor triumphs in thy Name.

Exeunt in State.

Lord.

Alas poor Gentleman! I brought him news That like a Cloud spred over all his glories, When he mist her, whom his eye greedily sought for; His welcome seem'd so poor, he took no joy in't: But when he found her, by her Father forc'd To the old Governors love, and kept so strictly, A coldness strook his heart; there is no State So firmly happy, but feels Envies might. I know Lactantio, Nephew to the Cardinal, Hates him as deeply as a Richman death; And yet his welcome shew'd as fair and friendly, As his that wore the truest love to him. When in his wishes he could drink his blood, And make his heart the sweetness of his food.

Exit.

Celia.

Madam, Madam.

Dutch.

Beshrew thy heart, do'st thou not see me busie: You shew your manners.

Celia.

In the name of Goodness, What ails my Lady?

Dutch.

I confess I'm mortal, There's no defending on't, 'tis cruel flattery To make a Lady believe otherways. Is not this flesh? Can you drive heat from fire? So may you love from this; for Love and Death Are Brothers in this Kingdom, onely Death Comes by the Mothers side, and that's the surest. That General is wondrous fortunate, Has won another field since, and a victory That credits all the rest: He may more boast on't, Then of a thousand conquests. I am lost, Utterly lost, where are my Women now, Alas what help's in them, what strength have they? I call to a weak guard, when I call them, In rescuing me, they'ld be themselves o'er-come, When I that profest war, am overthrown. What hope's in them then, that nev'r stir'd from home? My Faith is gone for ever, my Reputation with the Cardinal, My Fame, my Praise, my Liberty, my Peace, Chang'd for a restless Passion: Oh hard spight To lose my seven years victory at one sight.

Exit.

Scaen. 4.

Enter Dondolo, and the Page with a Shirt.

Page.

I prethee Dondolo, take this shirt, and air it a little against my Master rises, I'had rather do any thing then do't y'faith.

Dond.

O monstrous, horrible, terrible, intollerable! Are not you big enough to air a shirt; were it a smock now, you liquorish Page, you'ld be hang'd, ere

you'ld part from't. If thou do'st not prove as arrant a smell-smock, as any the Town affords, in a Term time, I'll lose my judgment in Wenching.

Page.

Pish; here Dondolo, prethee take it.

Dond.

It's no more but up and ride with you then? All my generation were Bedles and Officers: and do you think I'm so easily intreated? you shall finde a harder peece of work (Boy) then you ima∣gine, to get any thing from my hands; I will not disgenerate so much from the nature of my kinred; you must bribe me one way or other, if you look to have any thing done, or else you may do't your self. 'Twas just my Fathers humor when he bore office: you know my minde Page, The Song, the Song; I must either have the Song, you sung to my Master last night, when he went to Bed, or I'll not do a stitch of service for you, from one weeks end to the other. As I am a Gentleman, you shall brush Cloaks, make clean Spurs, nay, pull of strait Boots, although in the tugging, you chance to fall and hazard the breaking of your little Buttocks: I'll take no more pity of your Maribones, then a Butchers Dog of a Rump of Beef; nay, ka me, ka thee, If you will ease the Melancholy of my minde with singing, I will deliver you from the calamity of Boots∣haling.

Page.

Alas you know I cannot sing.

Dond.

Take heed, you may speak at such an hour, that your voice may be clean taken away from you: I have known many a good Gentlewoman say so much as you say now, and have presently gone to Bed, and lay speechless: 'Tis not good to jest, as old Chaucer was wont to say, that broad famous Eng∣lish Poet. Cannot you sing say you? Oh that a Boy should so keep cut with his Mother, and be given to dissembling.

Page.

Faith to your knowledge in't, ill may seem well; But as I hope in comforts, I've no skill.

Dond.

A pox of skill, give me plain simple cun∣ning: Why should not singing be as well got with∣out skill, as the getting of children; you shall have the arrant'st Fool do as much there, as the wisest Coxcomb of 'em all, let 'em have all the help of Doctors put to 'em; both the directions of Physitians, and the erections of Pothecaries; you shall have a plain Hobnail'd Countrey-Fellow, marrying some Dairy-wench, tumble out two of a year, and some∣times three, By'rlady, as the crop falls out; and your nice paling Physicking-Gentlefolks, some one in nine years, and hardly then a whole one, as it should be; the wanting of so me Apricock, or something, looses a member on him, or quite spoils it. Come will you sing, that I may warm the shirt; by this light, he shall put it on cold for me else.

Page.

A Song or two I learnt, with hearing Gen∣tlewomen practise themselves.

Dond.

Come, you are so modest now, 'tis pity that thou was't ever bred to be thrust through a pair of Canions; thou wouldst have made a pretty foolish Waiting-woman, but for one thing. Wil't' sing?

Page.

As well as I can Dondolo.

Dond.

Give me the shirt then, I'll warm't as well I can too. Why look you Whoreson Cockscomb, this is a smock.

Page.

No 'tis my Masters shirt.

Dond.

Why that's true too, Who knows not that; why 'tis the fashion Fool, All your yong Gallants here of late wear smocks; Those without Beards especially.

Page.

Why what's the reason Sir.

Dond.

Marry very great reason in't: A yong gal∣lant lying a Bed with his Wench, if the Constable should chance to come up and search, being both in smocks, they'd be taken for Sisters; and I hope a Constable dare go no further: And as for the know∣ing of their Heads, that's well enough too; for I know many yong Gentlemen, wear longer hair then their Mistresses.

Page.

'Tis a hot world the whilst:

Dond

Nay, that's most certain,

And a most witty age of a bald one; for all Lan∣guages y'have many daughters so well brought up, they speak French naturally at fifteen, and they are turn'd to the Spanish and Italian half a year after.

Page.

That's like learning the Grammar first, and the Accidence after; They go backward so.

Dond.

The fitter for the Italian; thou'st no wit Boy, Hadst had a Tutor, he'ld have taught thee that. Come, come, that I may be gone Boy?

Musick.

Page:

SONG.

CUpid is Venus onely joy, But he's a wanton Boy: A very, very wanton Boy. He shoots at Ladies naked Brests; He is the cause of most mens Crests; I mean upon the Forehead, Invisible, but horrid. Of the short Velvet Mask, he was deviser, That wives may kiss, the husband's ne'r the wiser. 'Twas he first thought upon the way, To keep a Ladies Lips in play.

Dond.

Oh rich, ravishing, rare, and inticing: Well, go thy ways, for as sweet a Brested Page, as ever lay at his Masters feet in a Truckle-bed.

Page.

You'll hie you in straight Dondolo?

Exit.

Dond.

I'll not miss you. This smockified shirt, or shirted smock, I will go toste; let me see what's a clock, I must to th'Castle straight to see his love, Either by hook or crook: My Master storming Sent me last night, but I'll be gone this morning.

Exit.

Act. 2.

Scaen. 1.

Enter Dutchess and Celia.

Dutch.

SEek out the lightest colours can be got; The youthful'st dressings; Tauny is too sad. I am not thirty yet, I have wronged my time, To go so long in black, like a Petitioner. See that the Powder that I use about me, Be rich in Cassia.

Cel.

Here's a sudden change.

Dutch.

Oh I'm undone in Faith: Stay, art thou certain Lactantio, Nephew to the Cardinal, Was present in the late entertainment of the Gene∣ral?

Cel.

Upon my reputation with your Excellence, These eyes beheld him: He came foremost, Madam, 'Twas he in black and yellow.

Dutch.

Nay, 'tis no matter, either for himself

Or for the affectation of his colours, So you be sure he was there.

Cel.

As sure as sight Can discern man from man, Madam.

Exit.

Dutch.

It suffices. Oh an ill cause had need of many helps, Much art, and many friends, I, and those mighty, Or else it sets in shame. A Faith once lost, Requires great cunning, er't be entertain'd Into the Brest of a belief again. There's no condition so unfortunate, Poor, miserable, to any Creature given, As hers that breaks in vow, she breaks with Heaven:

Enter Lord Cardinal.

L. Card.

Increase of health, and a redoubled courage To Chasteties great Soldier: what so sad Madam? The memorie of her seven yeares deceased Lord Springs yet into her eyes, as fresh and full As at the seaventh houre after his departure: What a perpetual Fountain is her vertue? Too much to afflict your self with ancient sorrow Is not so strictly for your strength requird: Your vow is charge enough, beleive me 'tis Madam, You need no waightier task.

Dutch.

Religious Sir, You heard the last words of my dying Lord.

L. Card.

Which I shall nev'r forget.

Dutch.

May I entreat Your goodness but to speake'em over to me As neere as memory can be friend your utterance, That I may think a while I stand in presence Of my departing Husband.

L. Card.

What's your meaning? In this most vertuous Madam?

Dutch.

'Tis a curtesie I stand in need of Sir, at this time specially, Urge it no further yet; as it proves to me, You shall hear from me, onely I desire it Effectually from you Sir, that's my request.

L. Card.

I wonder, yet I'll spare to question far∣ther. You shall have your desire.

Dutch.

I thank you Sir. A blessing come along with't.

L. Card.

You see my Lords, what all Earths glo∣ry is Rightly defin'd in me, uncertain breath; A dream of threescore years to the long sleeper, To most not half the time. Beware Ambition, Heaven is not reach'd with Pride, but with submissi∣on. And you Lord Gardinal labor to perfect Good purposes begun, be what you seem, Stedfast, and uncorrupt, your actions noble, Your goodness simple, without gain or art, And not in vesture hollier then in heart. But 'tis a pain, more then the pangs of death, To think that we must part, Fellows of life, Thou richness of my joys, kinde and deer Princess. Death had no sting, but for our separation, T'would come more calm then an ev'nings peace, That brings on rest to labors: Thou art so precious, I should depart in everlasting envy Unto the man, that ever should enjoy thee: Oh a new torment strikes his force into me, When I but think on't, I am rack'd and torn, Pity me in thy vertues.

Dutch.

My lov'd Lord,

Let you confirm'd opinion of my life, My love, my faithful love, seal an assurance Of quiet to your spirit, that no forgetfulness Can cast a sleep so deadly on my Sences, To draw my affections to a second liking.

L. Card.

'Tas ever been the promise, and the spring Of my great love to thee. For once to marry Is honorable in woman, and her ignorance Stands for a vertue, coming new and fresh; But second marriage shews desires in flesh: Thence lust, and heat, and common custom grows, But she's part Virgin, who but one man knows. I here expect a work of thy great Faith, At my last parting, I can crave no more, And with thy vow, I rest my self for ever, My soul and it shall flie to Heaven together: Seal to my spirit, that quiet satisfaction, And I go hence in Peace.

Dutch.

Then here I vow, never.

L. Card

Why Madam?

Dutch.

I can go no further.

L. Card.

What have you forgot your vow?

Dutch.

I have, too certainly.

L. Card.

Your vow? that cannot be; it follows now, Just where I left.

Dutch.

My frailty gets before it, Nothing prevails but ill.

L. Card.

What ail you Madam?

Dutch.

Sir, I'm in love.

L. Card.

Oh all you powers of Chastity, Look to this woman, let her not faint now For honor of your selves: If she be lost, I know not where to seek my hope in woman. Madam, Oh Madam.

Dutch.

My desires are sickned Beyond recovery of good counsel Sir.

L. Card.

What mischeif ow'd a malice to the Sex, To work this spightful ill; better the man Had never known Creation, then to live Th'unlucky ruine of so fair a Temple; Yet think upon your vow, revive in Faith, Those are eternal things. What are all pleasures, Flatteries of men, and Follies upon Earth To your most excellent goodness? Oh she's dead, Stark cold to any vertuous claim within her. What now is heat, is sins. Have I approved Your constancy for this, call'd your Faith noble, Writ volumes of your victories and vertues? I have undone my judgment, lost my praises, Blemish'd the truth of my opinion. Give me the man, that I may pour him out To all contempt and curses.

Dutch.

The mans innocent, Full of desert and grace, his name Lactantio.

L. Card.

How?

Dutch.

Your Nephew.

L. Card.

My Nephew!

Dutch.

Beshrew the sight of him; he lives not Sir, That could have conquer'd me, himself excepted.

L. Card.

He that I lov'd so dearly, does he wear Such killing poyson in his eye to sanctity? He has undone himself for ever by't, Has lost a friend of me, and a more sure one. Farewel all natural pitty, though my affection Could hardly spare him from my sight an hour, I'll lose him now eternally, and strive To live without him; he shall straight to Rome.

Dutch.

Not if you love my health, or life, my Lord.

L. Card.

This day he shall set forth:

Dutch.

Dispatch me rather.

L. Card.

I'll send him far enough.

Dutch.

Send me to death first.

L. Card.

No Basilisk that strikes dead pure af∣fection With venemous eye, lives under my protection.

Exit.

Dutch.

Now my conditions worse then ev'r 'twas yet, My cunning takes not with him: Has broke through The Net, that with all art was set for him, And left the snarer here herself intangled With her own toils. Oh what are we poor souls, When our dissembling fails us? Surely Creatures As full of want, as any Nation can be That scarce have food to keep bare life about 'em: Had this but took effect, what a fair way Had I made for my love to th' General, And cut of all suspect, all reprehension? My hopes are kill'd i'th' blossom.

Exit.

Scaen. 3.

Enter L. Cardinal.

L. Card.

Let me think upon't, Set holy anger by a while, there's time Allow'd for natural argument: 'Tis she That loves my Nephew, she that loves, loves first; What cause have I to lay a blame on him then? He's in no fault in this; say 'twas his fortune At the free entertainment of the General, 'Mongst others the deserts and hopes of Milan, To come into her sight, where's th' offence yet? What sin was that in him? man's sight and pre∣sence

Are free to publick view: She might as well Have fixed her hearts love then upon some other, I would t'had lighted any where but there, Yet I may erre to wish't, since it appears The hand of Heaven, that onely pickt him out To reward vertue in him by this Fortune, And through affection I'm half conquer'd now, I love his good, as dearly as her vow, Yet there my credit lives in works and praises: I never found a harder fight within me, Since zeal first taught me war, say I should labor To quench this love, and so quench life and all; As by all likelihood it would prove her death: For it must needs be granted, she affects him As dearly, as the power of love can force, Since her vow aws her not, that was her Saint. What right could that be to Religion To be her end, and disposes my Kinsman; No I will bear in pity to her heart, The rest commend to Fortune, and my Art.

Exit.

Scaen. 4.

Enter Father, Governor, Aurelia, and Andrugio disguised.

Gover.

I like him passing well:

Fath.

He's a tall fellow.

Andr.

A couple of tall wits: I have seen some service Sir.

Gover.

Nay so it seems by thy discourse good∣fellow.

Andr.

Good-fellow, calls me theif familiarly: I could shew many marks of resolution, But modesty could wish'em rather hidden: I fetcht home three and twenty wounds together In one set battel, where I was defeated At the same time of the third part of my Nose,

But meeting with a skilful Surgeon; Took order for my snuffling.

Gover.

And a Nose Well heal'd, is counted a good cure in these days, It saves many a mans honesty, which else Is quickly drawn into suspition. This night shall bring you acquainted with your charge; In the mean time you and your valors welcome. Would we had more store of you, although they come With fewer marks about 'em.

Fath.

So wish I Sir.

Exeunt Father and Governor.

Andr.

I was about to call her; and she stays Of her own gift, as if she knew my minde; Certain she knows me not, not possible.

Aur.

What if I left my token, and my Letter With this strange fellow, so to be convey'd Without suspition to Lactantio's servant: Not so, I'll trust no fresh-man with such secrets; His ignorance may mistake, and giv't to one That may belong to th'General; for I know He sets some spies about me, but all he gets Shall not be worth his pains. I would Lactantio Would seek some means to free me from this place, 'Tis prisonment enough to be a Maid; But to be mew'd up too, that case is hard, As if a Toy were kept, by a double guard.

Andr.

Away she steals again, not minding me. 'Twas not at me she offer'd: Hark you Gentletwo∣man.

Aur.

With me Sir?

Andr.

I could call you by your name; But Gentle's the best attribute to woman.

Aur.

Andrugio, Oh as welcome to my Lips, As morning Dew to Roses: My first love.

Andr.

Why have you more then?

Aur.

What a word was there? More then thy self, what woman could desire If reason had a part of her Creation? For loving you, you see Sir I'm a prisoner; There's all the cause they have against me Sir. A happy persecution, I so count on't. If any thing be done to me for your sake, 'Tis pleasing to me.

Andr.

Are you not abus'd, Either through force, or by your own consent; Hold you your honor perfect and unstain'd; Are you the same still, that at my departure, My honest thoughts maintain'd you to my heart?

Aur.

The same most just.

Andr.

Swear 't.

Aur.

By my hope of fruitfulness, Love, and agreement, the three joys of marriage:

Andr.

I am confirm'd, and in requital on't, Ere long expect your freedom.

Aur.

Oh you flatter me, It is a wrong to make a wretch too happy, So suddenly upon affliction. Beshrew me, if I be not sick upon't; 'Tis like a surfeit after a great feast. My freedom said you?

Andr.

Do'st o'rcome you so?

Aur.

Temptation never overcame a sinner More pleasingly, then this sweet news my heart. Here's secret joy can witness, I am proud on't.

Andr.

Violence I will not use, I come a friend, 'Twere madness to force that, which wit can end:

Aur.

Most vertuously deliver'd:

Andr.

Thou art in raptures:

Aur.

My love, my love.

Andr.

Most vertuously deliver'd, Spoke like the sister of a Puritan Midwife: Will you embrace the means that I have thought on, With all the speed you can?

Aur.

Sir any thing. You cannot name't too dangerous, or too homely.

Andr.

Fie, you over-act your happiness, You drive slight things to wonders.

Aur.

Blame me not Sir, You know not my affection:

Andr.

Will you hear me, There are a sect of pilfring juggling people, The vulgar tongue call Gipseys.

Aur.

True, the same Sir. I saw the like this morning: Say no more Sir; I apprehend you fully:

Andr.

What, you do not?

Aur.

No: Hark you Sir.

Andr.

Now by this light 'tis true: Sure if you prove as quick as your conceit, You'll be an exc'lent breeder.

Aur.

I should do reason by the Mothers side Sir, If Fortune do her part, in a good Getter.

Andr.

That's not to do now (sweet) the man stands near thee.

Aur.

Long may he stand most fortunately Sir, Whom her kinde goodness has appointed for me

Andr.

A while I'll take my leave to avoid suspition:

Aur.

I do commend your course; good Sir for∣get me not.

Andr.

All comforts sooner.

Aur.

Liberty is sweet, Sir.

Andr.

I know there's nothing sweeter, next to love, But health it self, which is the Prince of life.

Aur.

Your knowledge raise you Sir.

Andr.

Farewel till evening.

Exit Andrugio.

Aur.

And after that, farewel sweet Sir for ever. A good kinde Gentleman to serve our turn with, But not for lasting: I have chose a Stuff Will wear out two of him, and one finer too: I like not him that has two Mistresses; War, and his sweet-heart, he can ne'r please both: And War's a soaker, she's no friend to us, Turns a man home sometimes to his Mistress, Some forty ounces poorer then he went. All his discourse out of the Book of Surgery, Seer-cloth, and Salve, and lies you, all in Tents, Like your Camp-Victlers: Out upon't, I smile To think how I have fitted him with an office; His love takes pains to bring our loves together, Much like your man that labors to get treasure, To keep his wife high for anothers pleasure.

Exit.

Act. 3.

Scaen. 1.

Enter Lactantio, and Page.

Page.

THink of your shame and mine.

Lact.

I prethee peace, Thou art th'unfortunat'st peece of taking business, That ever man repented, when day peep'd; I'll ne'r keep such a peece of Touch-wood again, And I we re rid of thee once. Welfare those That never sham'd their Master, I have had such, And I may live to see the time again; I do not doubt on't:

Page.

If my too much kindness Receive your anger onely for reward,

The harder is my fortune, I must tell you Sir, To stir your care up to prevention, (Misfortunes must be told as well as blessings) When I left all my friends in Mantua, For your loves sake alone, then with strange oaths You promis'd present marriage.

Lact.

With strange oaths quoth' a, They're not so strange to me, I have sworn the same things, I am sure forty times over; not so little. I may be perfect in 'em, for my standing.

Page.

You see 'tis high time now Sir.

Lact.

Yes, yes, yes, Marriage is nothing with you; a toy till death. If I should marry all those I have promis'd, 'Twould make one Vicar hoarse, ere he could dis∣patch us: I must devise some shift, when she grows big, Those Masculine Hose will shortly prove too little: What if she were convey'd to Nurses house; A good sure old Wench; and she'ld love the childe well, Because she suckl'd the Father: No ill course By my Mortality, I may hit worse.

Enter Dondolo.

Now Dondolo, the news.

Dond.

The news:

Lact.

How do's she.

Dond.

Soft, soft Sir, you think 'tis nothing to get news out o'th' Castle; I was there.

Lact.

Well Sir.

Dond.

As you know a merry fellow may pass any where.

Lact.

So Sir.

Dond

Never in better fooling in my life.

Lact.

What's this to th' purpose?

Dond.

Nay 'twas nothing to th' purpose, that's certain.

Lact.

How Wretched this slave makes me! Didst not see her?

Dond.

I saw her.

Lact.

Well, what said she then?

Dond.

Not a word Sir.

Lact.

How, not a word?

Dond.

Proves her the better Maid; For Virgins should be seen more then they'r heard.

Lact.

Exceeding good Sir; you are no sweet villain.

Dond.

No Faith Sir; for you keep me in foul Linnen.

Lact.

Turn'd scurvy rimer are you?

Dond.

Not scurvy neither, Though I be somewhat itchy in the profession; If you could hear me out with patience, I know her minde As well as if I were in her belly:

Lact.

Thou saidst ev'n now, she never spake a word:

Dond.

But she gave certain signs, and that's as good.

Lact.

Canst thou conceive by signs?

Dond.

Oh passing well Sir, Ev'n from an Infant; did you nev'r know that? I was the happiest childe in all our Country, I was born of a dumb woman.

Lact.

How?

Dond.

Stark dumb Sir: My Father had a rare bargain of her, a rich peniworth; there would have been but too much money given for her. A Justice

of Peace was about her, but my Father being then Constable, carried her before him.

Lact.

Well since we are entred into these dumb shews, What were the signs she gave you?

Dond.

Many and good, Sir. Imprimis, she first gap'd, but that I ghess'd Was done for want of air, cause she's kept close; But had she been abroad, and gapt as much, T'had been another case; then cast she up Her pretty eye, and wink't; the word me thought was then Come not till twitter light: Next, thus her fingers went, As who should say, I'd fain have a hole broke to 'scape away. Then look'd upon her watch, and twice she nodded, As who should say, The hour will come Sweet-heart That I shall make two Noddies of my Keepers.

Lact.

A third of thee. Is this your Mother tongue? My hopes are much the wiser for this Language, There is no such curse in love to an arrant Ass.

Dond

O yes, Sir, yes, an arrant whore's far worse▪ You nev'r lin railing on me, from one weeks end to another: But you can keep a little Tit-mouse Page there, that's good for nothing, but to carry Tooth∣picks, put up your Pipe or so, that's all he's good for: he cannot make him ready as he should do, I am fain to truss his points ev'ry morning. Yet the proud scornful Ape, when all the lodgings were taken up with strangers th'other night, he would not suffer me to come to Bed to him, but kickt and prickt, and pinch'd me, like an Urchin; there's no good quality in him. Oh my Conscience▪ I think he scarce knows how to stride a Horse; I saw him with a little hunting Nag, but thus high t'other day, and he

was fain to lead him to a high rail, and get up like a Butter-wench; there's no good Fellowship in this Dandiprat, this Dive-dapper, as is in other Pages; they'd go a swimming with no familiarly i'th' heat of Summer, and clap what you call 'ems: But I could ne∣ver get that little Monkey yet to put off his Breeches. A tender, puling, nice, chitty fac'd Squal 'cis.

Lact.

Is this the good you do me? his love's wretched, And most distress'd, that must make use of Fools.

Dond.

Fool to my face still! that's unreasonable; I will be a knave one day for this trick, Or it shall cost me a fall, though it be from a Gibbet, It has been many a proper mans last leap.

Nay sure I'll be quite out of the precincts of a Fool, if I live but two days to an end: I will turn Gipsey presently, and that's the high-way to the dantiest knave that ever Mothers Son took journey too. Oh those dear Gipseys, they live the merriest lives, eat sweet stoln Hens, pluckt over Pales or Hedges by a twitch; they are nev'r without a plump and lovely Goose, or beautiful Sow-pig; those things I saw with mine own eyes to day; they call those vanities, and triffing pilfries: But if a privy search were made amongst 'em, they should finde other manner of ware about 'em; Cups, Rings, and Silver Spoons, by'r Lady, Bracelets, Pearl Neck-laces, and Chains of Gold sometimes; they are the wittiest theeves: I'll stay no longer, but ev'n go look what I can steal, now presently, and so begin to bring my self ac∣quainted with 'em.

Exit.

Lact.

Nothing I fear so much, as in this time Of my dull absence, her first love, the General Will wind himself into her affection, By secret gifts and Letters; there's the mischief; I have no enemy like him, though my policy

Dissembled him a welcome, no mans hate Can stick more close unto a loath'd disease, Then mine to him.

Enter Lord Cardinal.

L. Card.

What ails this pretty Boy to weep so often? Tell me the cause childe; how his eyes stand full! Beshrew you Nephew, you're too bitter to him; He is so soft, th'unkindness of a word Melts him into a woman; 'lass poor Boy, Thou shalt not serve him longer; 'twere great pity That thou shouldst wait upon an angry Master. I have promis'd thee to one will make much of thee, And hold thy weak youth in most deer respect.

Page.

Oh I beseech your Grace, that I may serve No Master else.

L. Card.

Thou shalt not: Mine's a Mistress, The greatest Mistress in all Milan, Boy; The Dutchess self.

Page.

Nor her, nor any:

L. Card.

Cease Boy, Thou knowest not thine own happiness, through fondness, And therefore must be learn't; go dry thine eyes.

Page.

This rather is the way to make 'em moister.

Exit Page.

L. Card.

Now Nephew, Nephew.

Lact.

Oh y'have snatcht my spirit Sir▪ From the divinest Meditation That ever made Soul happy.

L. Card.

I am afraid I shall have as much toil to bring him on now, As I had pains to keep her off from him▪ I have thought it fit Nephew, considering

The present barrenness of our name and house, (The onely Famine of succeeding honor) To move the ripeness of your time to marriage.

Lact.

How Sir, to marriage?

L. Card.

Yes, to a fruitful life; We must not all be strict so generation Would lose her right; thou'rt yong, 'tis my desire To see thee bestow'd happily in my life time.

Lact.

Does your Grace well remember who I am, When you speak this?

L. Card.

Yes, very perfectly; Y'are a yong man, full in the grace of life, And made to do love credit; proper, handsome, And for affection, pregnant.

Lact.

I beseech you Sir, Take off your praises, rather then bestow 'em Upon so frail a use, alas you know Sir, I know not what love is, or what you speak of; If woman be amongst it, I shall swoun; take her away For contemplation's sake; most serious Uncle, Name no such thing to me.

L. Card.

Come, come you'r fond: Prove but so strict and obstinate in age, And you are well to pass. There's honest love Allow'd you now for recreation; The years will come when all delights must leave you. Stick close to Vertue then; in the mean time There's honorable joys to keep youth company; And if death take you there, dying no adulterer, You'r out of his eternal reach, defie him. List hither, come to me, and with great thankful∣ness, Welcome thy Fortunes; 'tis the Dutchess loves thee.

Lact.

The Dutchess!

L. Card.

Dotes on thee: Will die for thee, Unless she may enjoy thee.

Lact.

She must die then.

L. Card.

How?

Lact.

Alas, do you think she ever means to do't Sir? I'll sooner believe all a woman speaks, Then that she'll die for love: She has a vow my Lord, That will keep life in her.

L. Card.

Believe me then, That should have bounteous interest in thy Faith, She's thine, and not her vows, the more my sor∣row, My toil, and my destruction.

Lact.

My blood dances.

L. Card.

And though that bashful Maiden vertue in thee, That never held familiar league with woman, Binds fast all pity to her heart that loves thee. Let me prevail, my counsel stands up to thee; Embrace it as the fulness of thy Fortunes, As if all blessings upon Earth were clos'd Within one happiness; for such an other Whole life could never meet with; go and pre∣sent Your service, and your love, but on your hopes Do it religiously: What need I doubt him, Whom Chastity locks up?

Lact.

Oh Envy, hadst thou no other means to come by vertue, But by such treachery! The Dutchess love! Thou wouldst be sure to aim it high enough, Thou knew'st full well 'twas no prevailing else.

Sir, what your will commands, mine shall fulfil: I'll teach my heart in all t'obey your will.

Enter Lords.

L. Card.

A thing you shall not lose by. Here come the Lords, Go follow you the course that I advised you; The comfort of thy presence is expected; Away with speed to Court, she languishes For one deer sight of thee. For life's sake haste, You lose my favor if you let her perish.

Lact.

And art thou come brave Fortune, the re∣ward Of neat hypocrisie, that ever book't it, Or turn'd up transitory white o'th' eye After the Feminine rapture: Dutchess and I Were a fit match, can be deny'd of no man; The best dissembler lights on the best woman; 'Twere sin to part us.

Exit:

L. Card.

You Lights of State, Truths Friends, much honored Lords, Faithful admirers of our Dutchess vertues, And firm Believers; it appears as plain As knowledge to the eyes of industry, That neither private motion, which holds counsel Often with womans frailty, and her blood, Nor publick sight, the lightning of temptations, Which from the eye strikes sparks into the bosom, And sets whole hearts on fire, hath power to raise A heat in her 'bove that which feeds chaste life, And gives that cherishing means; she's the same still, And seems so seriously imploy'd in soul, As if she could not tend to cast an eye Upon deserts so low as those in man.

It merits famous memory I confess; Yet many times when I behold her youth, And think upon the lost hopes of posterity, Succession, and the royal fruits of Beauty, All by the rashness of one vow made desperate, It goes so near my heart, I feel it painful, And wakes me into pity oftentimes, When others sleep unmov'd.

1 Lord.

I speak it faithfully, For 'tis poor fame to boast of a disease, Your Grace has not endu ed that pain alone; T'has been a grief of mine, but where's the remedy?

L. Card.

True, there your Lordship spake enough in little; There's nothing to be hoped for but repulses; She's not to seek for armor against love, That has bid battel to his powers so long; He that should try her now, had need come strong, And with more force then his own Arguments, Or he may part disgrac'd, being put to flight; That Soldier's tough, has been in seven •…•…ars fight, Her vow's invincible; for you must grant this, If those desires train'd up in flesh and blood To war continually 'gainst good intents, Prove all too weak for her, having advantage Both of her sex, and her unskilfulness At a Spiritual weapon, wanting knowledge To manage resolution, and yet win; What force can a poor Argument bring in? The Books that I have publish'd in her praise, Commend her constancy, and that's Fame-worthy; But if you read me o'r with eyes of enemies, You cannot justly, and with honor tax me, That I disswade her life from marriage there: Now Heaven, and fruitfulness forbid, not I: She may be constant there, and the hard war

Of Chastity, is held a vertuous strife, As rare in marriage, as in single life; Nay, by some writers rarer: hear their reasons, And you'll approve 'em fairly. She that's single, Either in Maid or Widow, oftentimes The fear of shame, more then the fear of Heaven, Keeps chaste, and constant; when the tempest comes She knows she has no shelter for her sin, It must endure the weathers of all censure: Nothing but Sea and Air, that poor Bark feels, When she in wedlock is like a safe vessel That lies at anchor; come what weathers can, She has her Harbor: At her great unlading▪ Much may be stoln, and little waste; the Master Thinks himself rich enough with what he has, And holds content by that. How think you now Lords▪ If she that might offend safe, does not erre, What's chaste in others, is most rare in her.

2 Lord.

What wisdom but approves it?

1 Lord.

But my Lord, This should be told to her it concerns most; Pity such good things should be spoke and lost.

L. Card.

That were the way to lose 'em utterly, You quite forget her vow; yet now I think on't, What is that vow? 'Twas but a thing inforc'd, Was it not Lords?

1 Lord.

Meerly compell'd indeed.

L. Card.

Onely to please the Duke, and forced vertue Fails in her merit, there's no crown prepar'd for't: What have we done, my Lords? I fear we have sin'd In too much strictness to uphold her in't, In cherishing her will; for womans goodness Takes counsel of that first, and then determines.

She cannot truly be call'd constant now, If she persever; rather obstinate, The Vow appearing forced, as it proves, Try'd by our purer thoughts: The grace and triumph Of all her victories, are but idle glories; She wilful, and we enemies to succession. I will not take rest, till I tell her soul As freely as I talk to those I keep.

Lords.

And we'll all second you, my Lord.

L. Card.

Agreed. We'll knit such knots of Arguments so fast, All wit in her shall not undo in hast.

2 Lord.

Nay sure, I think all we shall be too hard for her, Else she's a huge wilde Creature.

1 Lord.

If we win, And she yeild marriage, then will I strike in.

Exeunt:

Scaen. 2.

Enter Dutchess and Celia.

Dutch.

Thou tell'st me happy things, if they be certain, To bring my wishes about wondrous strangely. Lactantio Nephew to the Cardinal, The Generals secret enemy?

Cel.

Most true Madam, I had it from a Gentleman, my Kinsman, That knows the best part of Lactantio's bosom.

Dutch.

It happens passing fortunately, to save Imployment in another; he will 'come now A necessary property; he may thank The need and use we have of him for his welcome. Now who's that knocks?

Knocks within.

Cel.

Madam, 'tis he, with speed. I thought he had brought his horse to th' Chamber door,

He made such haste and noise.

Dutch.

Admit him prethee, And have a care your heart be true and secret:

Cel.

Take life away from't, when it fails you Ma∣dam.

Exit.

Enter Lactantio.

Dutch.

Enough; I know thee wise. He comes with haste indeed: Are you come now Sir? You should have staid yet longer, and have found me Dead, to requite your haste.

Lact.

Love bless you better Madam.

Dutch.

Must I bid welcome to the man undoes me, The cause of my vows breach, my honor's enemy; One that does all the mischief to my fame, And mocks my seven years conquest with his name? This is a force of Love was never felt; But I'll not grudge at Fortune, I will take Captivity cheerfully: Here, seise upon me, And if thy heart can be so pitiless To chain me up for ever in those arms, I'll take it mildly, I, and thank my Stars, For w'are all subject to the chance of wars.

Lact.

We are so, yet take comfort vanquish'd Dutchess, I'll use you like an honorable prisoner, You shall be entreated; day shall be Free for all sports to you, the night for me; That's all I challenge, all the rest is thine; And for your fare 't' shall be no worse then mine.

Dutch.

Nay then I'm heartily pleasant, and as merry As one that ows no malice, and that's well Sir;

You cannot say so much for your part, can you?

Lact.

Faith all that I ow, is to one man, Madam, And so can few men say: Marry that malice Wears no dead flesh about it, 'tis a stinger.

Dutch.

What is he that shall dare to be your enemy, Having our friendship, if he be a servant And subject to our Law?

Lact.

Yes, trust me Madam, Of a vilde fellow, I hold him a true subject; There's many arrant knaves, that are good subjects, Some for their livings sakes, some for their lives, That will unseen, eat men, and drink their wives.

Dutch.

They are as much in fault that know such people, And yet conceal 'em from the whips of Justice. For love's sake give me in your foe betimes, Before he vex you further; I will order him To your hearts wishes, load him with disgraces, That your revenge shall rather pity him, Then wish more weight upon him.

Lact.

Say you so Madam! Here's a blest hour, that feeds both love and hate; Then take thy time brave malice: Vertuous Prin∣cess, The onely enemy that my veng'ance points to, Lives in Andrugio.

Dutch.

What the General?

Lact.

That's the man, Madam.

Dutch.

Are you serious Sir?

Lact.

As at my prayers.

Dutch.

We meet happily then In both our wishes; he's the onely man My will has had a longing to disgrace, For divers capital contempts; my memory Shall call 'em all together now; nay Sir,

I'll bring his faith in War, now into question, And his late conference with th'enemy.

Lact.

By'r Lady a shrewd business, and a danger∣ous. Seignior, your neck's a cracking.

Dutch.

Stay, stay Sir, take Pen and Ink.

Lact.

Here's both, and Paper, Madam.

Dutch.

I'll take him in a fine trap.

Lact.

That were exc'llent.

Dutch.

A Letter so writ, would abuse him strangely.

Lact.

Good Madam, let me understand your minde, And then take you no care for his abusing, I serve for nothing else. I can write fast and fair Most true Orthography, and observe my stops.

Dutch.

Stay, stay a while, You do not know his hand.

Lact.

A bastard Roman, Much like mine own I could go near it Madam.

Dutch.

Marry and shall.

Lact.

We were once great together, And writ Spanish Epistles one to another, To exercise the Language.

Dutch.

Did you so? It shall be a bold Letter of temptation With his name to't, as writ, and sent to me.

Lact.

Can be no better Lady; stick there Madam, Ank never seek further.

Dutch.

Begin thus: Fair Dutchess, say: We must use flattery, if we imitate man, 'Twill nev'r be thought his Pen else.

Lact.

Most fair Dutchess.

Dutch.

What need you have put in most, yet since 'tis in, Let 't ev'n go on, few women would finde fault with't;

We all love to be best, but seldom mend: Go on Sir.

Lact

Most fair Dutchess! Here's an admiration point.

Dutch.

The report of your vow shall not fear me.

Lact.

Fear me: Two stops at fear me.

Dutch.

I know y'are but a woman.

Lact.

But a woman; a comma at woman.

Dutch.

And what a woman is, a wiseman knows.

Lact.

Wise-man knows: A Full-prick there.

Dutch.

Perhaps my condition may seem blunt to you.

Lact.

Blunt to you: A comma here again.

Dutch.

But no mans love can be more sharp set.

Lact.

Sharp set, there a colon; for colon is sharp set oftentimes.

Dutch.

And I know desires in both sexes have skill at that weapon.

Lact.

Skill at that weapon: A Full-prick here, at weapon.

Dutch.

So, that will be enough: Subscribe it thus now. One that vows service to your affections: Seignior such a one.

Lact.

Seignior Andrugio: G. that stands for General.

Dutch.

And you shall stand for Goose cap: Give me that, Betake you to your business; speedily Sir, We give you full authority from our person, In right of Reputation, Truth, and Honor, To take a strong Guard, and attach his body. That done, to bring him presently before us, Then we know what to do.

Lact.

My hate findes wings, Mans spirit flies swift to all revengeful things.

Exit.

Dutch.

Why here's the happiness of my desires, The means safe, unsuspected, far from thought; His state is like the world's condition right, Greedy of gain, either by fraud or stealth; And whil'st one toils, another gets the wealth.

Exit.

Act. 4.

Scaen. 1.

Enter Andrugio.

Andr.

NOw Fortune shew thy self the Friend of Love, Make her way plain, and safe; cast all their eyes That guard the Castle, into a thicker blindness then thine own, Darker then Ignorance or Idolatry, That in that shape, my love may pass unknown, And by her freedom, set my comforts free. This is the place appointed for our meeting, Yet comes she, I am coveteous of her sight; That Gipsey habit alters her so far From knowledge that our purpose cannot erre; She might have been here now, by this time largely And much to spare: I would not miss her now In this plight, for the loss of a years joy. She's ignorant of this house, nor knows she where, Or which way to bestow her self through fear.

Enter Lactantio with a Guard.

Lact.

Close with him Gentlemen. In the Dutch∣ess name We do attach your body.

Andr.

How, my body! What means this rudeness?

Lact.

You adde to your offences, Calling that rudeness, that is fair command, Immaculate Justice, and the Dutchess pleasure.▪

Andr.

Seignior Lactantio, Oh are you the Speak∣er?

Lact.

I am what I am made.

Andr.

Shew me my crime.

Lact.

I fear you'll have too many shewn you Sir.

Andr.

The Father of untruths possesses thy spi∣rit, As he commands thy tongue: I defie fear, But in my love, it onely settles there.

Lact.

Bring him along.

Andr.

Let Laws severest browe Bend at my deeds, my innocence shall rise A shame to thee, and all my enemies:

Lact.

Y'are much the happier man.

Andr.

Oh my hard crosses; Grant me the third part of one hours stay.

Lact.

Sir, not a minute.

Andr.

Oh she's lost.

Lact.

Away.

Exeunt:

Scaen. 2.

Enter Aurelia like a Gipsey.

Aur.

I'm happily escap'd, not one pursues me, This shape's too cunning for 'em; all the sport was

The Porter would needs know his fortune of me As I past by him: 'Twas such a plunge to me, I knew not how to bear my self; at last I did resolve of somewhat, look'd in's hand, Then shook my head, bad him make much on's eyes, He would lose his sight clean, long before he dies, And so away went I, he lost the sight of me quickly. I told him his fortune truer for nothing, then some Of my Complexion, that would have couzen'd him of his money. This is the place of meeting; where's this man now, That has took all this care and pains for nothing? The use of him is at the last cast now, Shall onely bring me to my former face again, And see me somewhat cleanlier at his cost, And then farewel Andrugio; when I am handsome I'm for another straight: I wonder troth That he would miss me thus, I could have took Many occasions besides this, to have left him, I'm not in want, he need not give me any; A womans will has still enough to spare To help her friends, and need be: What, not yet? What will become of me in this shape then? If I know where to go, I'm no dissembler; And I'll not lose my part in one woman so, For such a triffle, to forswear my self▪ But comes he not indeed?

Enter Dondolo.

Dond▪

Oh ex'lent, by this light here's one of them. I thank my Stars: I learnt that phrase in the Half-Moon Tavern. By your leave good Gipsey, I pray how far off is your company?

Aur.

Oh happiness! This is the merry Fellow My love Seignior Lactantio takes delight in;

I'll send him away speedily, with the news Of my so strange and fortunate escape, And he'll provide my safety at an instant. My friend, thou serv'st Seignior Lactantio.

Dond.

Who I serve? Gipsey, I scorn your moti∣on; and if the rest of your company give me no better words, I will hinder 'em the stealing of more Pully then fifty Poulterers were ever worth, and prove a heavier enemy to all their Pig-booties; they shall travel like Jews, that hate Swines flesh, and never get a Sowe by th'ear all their life time. I serve Lactantio? I scorn to serve any Body, I am more Gipsey-minded then so; though my face look of a Christian colour, if my belly were ript up, you shall finde my heart as black as any patch about you. The truth is, I am as arrant a theif, as the proudest of your company, I'll except none: I am run away from my Master in the state of a Fool, and till I be a perfect knave, I never mean to return again.

Aur.

I'm nev'r the happier for this Fortune now, It did but mock me.

Dond.

Here they come: Here they come.

Enter a company of Gipseys, Men and Women, with Booties of Hens, and Ducks, &c. singing.

Musick.

SONG.

Cap.

Come my dainty Doxes, My Dells, my Dells most deer. We have neither House nor Land, Yet never want good cheer.

All.

We never want good cheer▪

Cap.

We take no care for Candle, Rents,

2:

We lie.

3.

We snort.

Cap.

We sport in Tents. Then rouze betimes, and steal our dinners. Our store is never taken Without Pigs, Hens, or Bacon, And that's good meat for sinners▪ At Wakes and Fairs we cozen, Poor Country folks by dozen▪ If one have money, be disburses, Whilst some tell fortunes, some pick purses▪ Rather then be out of use We'll steal Garters, Hose, or Shoes, Boots, or Spurs with gingling Rowels, Shirts or Napkins, Smocks or Towels. Come live with us, come live with us, All you that love your eases; He that's a Gipsey, May be drunk or tipsey, At what hour he pleases.

All.

We laugh, we quaff, we roar, we scuffle. We cheat, we drab, we filtch, we shuffle.

Dond.

Oh sweet! they deserve to be hang'd for ravishing of me.

Aur.

What will become of me, if I seem fearful now, Or offer sudden flight? then I betray my self; I must do neither.

Cap. Gips.

Ousabel, camcheteroon, puscatelion, hows-drows.

2.

Rumbos stragadelion Alla piskitch in Sows-clows. Oh, Oh!

Dond.

Piskitch in howse-clout.

I shall nev'r keep a good tongue in my head, till I get this Language.

Cap.

Umbra fill kevolliden, magro-pye.

Dond.

He calls her Magot o' pie.

Aur.

I love your Language well, but understand it not.

Cap.

Hah.

Aur.

I am but lately turn'd to your profession, Yet from my youth, I ever lov'd it deerly, But never could attain to't: Steal I can; It was a thing I ever was brought up to, My Father was a Miller, and my Mother A Taylors widow.

Dond.

She's a theif on both sides.

Cap.

Give me thy hand, thou art no Bastard born, We have not a more true bred theif amongst us.

All.

Not any Captain.

Dond.

I pray take me into some grace amongst you too, for though I claim no goodness from my parents to help me forward into your Society, I had two Uncles that were both hang'd for robberies, if that will serve your turn, and a brave cut-purse to my Cozen-german: If kinred will be taken, I am as neer a kin to a theif as any of you that had Fathers and Mothers.

Cap.

What is it thou requirest, noble Cozen?

Dond.

Cozen! nay, and we be so near a kin al∣ready, now we are sober, we shall be sworn Brothers when we are drunk: The naked truth is Sir, I would be made a Gipsey as fast as you could devise.

Cap.

A Gipsey!

Dond.

I with all the speed you can Sir; the very sight of those stoln Hens, eggs me forward horri∣bly

Cap.

Here's dainty Ducks too Boy.

Dond.

I see 'em but too well; I would they were all rotten rosted, and stuft with Onions.

Cap.

Lov'st thou the common food of Eygpt, Onions?

Dond.

I, and Garlick too: I have smelt out many a Knave by't; but I could never smell mine own breath yet, and that's many a mans fault; he can smell out a Knave in another sometimes three yards off, yet his Nose standing so nigh his mouth, he can never smell out himself.

Cap.

A pregnant Gipsey.

All.

A most witty sinner.

Cap.

Stretch forth thy hand Coz; art thou for∣tunate?

Dond.

How? fortunate! nay, I cannot tell that my self; wherefore do I come to you but to learn that? I have sometimes found money in old shooes, but if I had not stoln more then I have found, I had had but a scurvy thin-cheek'd fortune on't.

Cap.

Here's a fair Table.

Dond.

I, so has many a man, that has given over house-keeping, a fair Table, when there's neither cloth, nor meat upon't.

Cap.

What a brave line of life's here, look you Gipseys.

Dond.

I have known as brave a live end in a halter.

Cap.

But thou art born to pretious fortune.

Dond.

The Devil I am.

Cap.

Bette, Bucketto.

Dond.

How, to beat Bucks?

Cap.

Stealee Bacono.

Dond.

Oh, to steal Bacon, that's the better fortune o'th' two indeed.

Cap.

Thou wilt be shortly Captain of the Gip∣seys.

Dond.

I would you'ld make me Corporal i'th' mean time; Or Standard-bearer to the Womens Regiment.

Cap.

Much may be done for love.

Dond.

Nay here's some money: I know an Of∣fice comes not all for love; a Pox of your Lime∣twigs, you hav't all already.

Gap.

It lies but here in cash for thine own use Boy.

Dond.

Nay an't lie there once, I shall hardly come to the fingring on't in haste; yet make me an apt Scholler, and I care not: Teach me but so much Gipsey, to steal as much more from another, and the Devil do you good of that.

Cap.

Thou shalt have all thy heart requires: First, here's a Girl for thy desires, This Doxey fresh, this new come Dell Shall lie by thy sweet side and swell: Get me Gipseys brave and tauny; With Cheek full plump, and Hip full brauny. Look you prove industrious dealers To serve the Commonwealth with stealers, That th'unhous'd race of Fortune-tellers May never fail to cheat Town-dwellers; Or to our universal grief, Leave Country Fairs without a Theif. This is all you have to do, Save ev'ry hour a filch or two, Be it money, cloth or pullen, When the ev'nings browe looks sullen. Loose no time, for then 'tis pretious, Let your sleights be fine, facetious; Which hoping you'll observe, to try thee With rusty Bacon, thus I Gipsifie thee.

Dond.

Do you use to do't with Bacon.

Cap.

Evermore:

Dond.

By this light, the Rats will take me now for some Hogs Cheek, and eat up my face when I am asleep; I shall have nev'r a bit left by to morrow morning; and lying open mouth'd as I use to do, I shall look for all the world like a Mouse-trap baited with Bacon.

Cap.

Why here's a face like thine, so done, Onely grain'd in by the Sun, and this, and these.

Dond.

Faith, then there's a company of Bacon faces of you, and I am one now to make up the number: We are a kinde of conscionable people, and 'twere well thought upon for to steal Bacon, and black our faces with't; Tis like one that commits sin, and writes his faults in his forehead.

Cap.

Wit whether wilt thou?

Dond.

Marry to the next pocket I can come at; and if it be a Gentlemans, I wish a whole quarters rent in't: Is this my in dock, out nettle. What's Gipsey for her?

Cap.

Your doxey she.

Dond.

Oh right, are you my doxey sirra.

Aur.

I'll be thy doxey, and thy dell. With thee I'll live, for thee I'll steal: From Fair to Fair, from Wake to Wake, I'll ramble still for thy sweet sake.

Dond.

Oh dainty fine doxey; she speaks the Lan∣guage as familiarly already, as if sh'ad been begot of a Canter. I pray Captain, what's gipsey for the hind quarter of a Woman?

Cap.

Nosario.

Dond▪

Nosario: Why what's gipsey for my Nose then?

Cap.

Why Arsinio.

Dond.

Arsinio? Faith 'me thinks you might have devised a sweeter word for't.

Enter Father and Governor.

Cap.

Stop, stop, fresh booties, Gentle folks, Seignioroes, Calavario, Fulkadelio.

2 Gip.

La gnambrol a tumbrel.

Dond.

How: Give me one word amongst you, that I may be doing too.

Aur.

Yonder they are again, Oh guiltiness, Thou put'st more trembling fear into a Maid Then the first wedding night. Take courage wench Thy face cannot betray thee with a blush now.

Fath.

Which way she took her flight Sir, none can ghess, Or how she scap't:

Govern.

Out at some Window certainly.

Fath.

Oh 'tis a bold daring Baggage.

Govern.

See good fortune Sir, The Gipseys, they're the cunningst people living.

Fath.

They cunning? what a confidence have you Sir, No wiseman's faith was ever set in fortunes.

Govern.

You are the wilfulst man against all learn∣ing still: I will be hang'd now, if I hear not news of her a∣mongst this company.

Fath.

You are a Gentleman of the flatt'ring'st hopes That ev'r lost woman yet.

Govern.

Come hither Gipsey.

Aur.

Luck now, or I'm undone,—What says my Master, Bless me with a silver cross, And I will tell you all your loss.

Govern.

Lo you there Sir, all my loss, at first word too,

There is no cunning in these Gipseys now.

Fath

Sure I'll hear more of this.

Govern.

Here's silver for you.

Aur.

Now attend your fortunes story, You lov'd a Maid.

Govern.

Right.

Aur.

She never lov'd you. You shall finde my words are true.

Govern.

'Mass I am afraid so.

Aur.

You were about To keep her in, but could not do't. Alas the while she would not stay The cough o'th' Lungs blew her away; And which is worse, you'll be so crost, You'll never finde the thing that's lost; Yet oftentimes your sight will fear her, She'll be near you, and yet you nev'r the nearer. Let her go, and be the gladder; She'ld but shame you, if you had her. Ten Counsellors could never school her, She'is so wilde, you could not rule her.

Govern.

In troth I am of thy minde, yet Il'ld fain finde her.

Aur.

Soonest then, when you least minde her; But if you mean to take her tripping, Make but haste, she's now a shipping.

Govern.

I ever dreamed so much.

Fath.

Hie to the Key, We'll mar your voyage, you shall brook no Sea.

Exit Father and Governor.

Cap.

Cheteroon: High Gulleroon▪

Dond.

Filcheroon, pursse-fulleroon: I can say some∣what too.

All.

Excellent Gipsey, witty rare Doxey:

Dond.

I would not change my Dell for a dozen of black Bell-weathers.

Cap.

Our wealth swells high my Boys.

Dond.

Our wealth swells high my Boys.

Cap.

Let ev'ry Gipsey Dance with his Doxey, And then drink, drink for joy.

Dond.

Let ev'ry Gipsey Dance with his Doxey, And then drink, drink for joy:

All.

And then drink, drink for joy.

Exit with a strange wilde fashion'd dance to the Hoboys or Cornets.

Scaen 3.

Enter Dutchess, Lord Cardinal, and other Lords, Celia.

L. Card.

That which is meerly call'd a will in wo∣man, I cannot always title it with a vertue.

Dutch.

Oh good Sir spare me.

L. Card.

Spare your self, good Madam. Extreamest Justice is not so severe To great offenders, as your own forc'd strictness To beauty, youth and time; you'll answer for't.

Dutch.

Sir settle your own peace, let me make mine.

L. Card.

But here's a heart must pity it, when it thinks on't, I finde compassion, though the smart be yours.

1 Lord.

None here but do's the like.

2 Lord.

Believe it Madam, You have much wrong'd your time.

1 Lord.

Nay, let your Grace But think upon the barrenness of succession.

2 Lord.

Nay more, a Vow enforc'd.

Dutch.

What do you all Forsake me then, and take part with you man; Not one friend have I left I do they all fight

Under th'inglorious banner of his censure, Serve under his opinion?

L. Card.

So will all Madam, Whose judgments can but taste a rightful cause, I look for more force yet; nay, your own women Will shortly rise against you, when they know The war to be so just and honorable As marriage is: You cannot name that woman, Will not come ready arm'd for such a cause: Can Chastity be any whit impair'd By that which makes it perfect? Answer Madam, Do you profess constancy, and yet live alone? How can that hold! y'are constant then to none. That's a dead vertue, goodness must have practice, Or else it ceases; then is woman said To be love chaste, knowing but one mans bed: A mighty vertue; beside, fruitfulness Is part of the salvation of your sex; And the true use of Wedlocks time and space, Is womans exercise for Faith and Grace.

Dutch.

Oh what have you done my Lord?

L. Card.

Laid the way plain To knowledge of your self and your Creation, Unbound a forced Vow, that was but knit By the strange jealousie of your dying Lord, Sinful i'th' fastning.

Dutch.

All the powres of Constancy Will curse you for this deed.

L. Card.

You speak in pain Madam, And so I take your words, like one in sickness That rails at his best friend: I know a change Of disposition has a violent working In all of us; 'tis fit it should have time And councel with it self: May you be fruitful Ma∣dam In all the blessings of an honor'd love.

1 Lord.

In all your wishes fortunate, and I The cheif of 'em my self.

L. Card.

Peace be at your heart Lady.

1 Lord.

And love, say I.

L. Card.

We'll leave good thoughts now, to bring in themselves.

Exit Lords.

Dutch.

O there's no art like a religious cunning, It carries away all things smooth before it. How subtilly has his wit dealt with the Lords To fetch in their perswasions, to a business That stands in need of none, yeilds of it self As most we women do, when we seem farthest? But little thinks the Cardinal he's requited After the same proportion of deceit As he sets down for others.

Enter Page.

Oh here's the pretty Boy, he preferr'd to me, I never saw a meeker, gentler youth Yet made for mans beginning: How unfit Was that poor fool, to be Lactantio's Page, He would have spoil'd him quite, in one year utterly, There had been no hope of him. Come hither childe, I have forgot thy name.

Page.

Antonio, Madam.

Dutch.

Antonio! so thou toldst me; I must chide thee, Why didst thou weep, when thou cam'st first to serve me?

Page.

At the distrust of mine own merits Ma∣dam, Knowing I was not born to those deserts To please so great a Mistress.

Dutch.

'Las poor Boy,

That's nothing in thee, but thy modest fear Which makes amends faster then thou canst erre: It shall be my care to have him well brought up As a youth apt for good things. Celia—

Cel.

Madam.

Dutch.

Has he bestow'd his hour to day for Mu∣sick?

Cel

Yes, he has Madam.

Dutch.

How do you finde his voice?

Cel.

A pretty womanish faint sprawling voice Madam, But 'twill grow strong in time, if he take care To keep it when he has it from fond exercises.

Dutch.

Give order to the dancing School-master, Observe an hour with him:

Cel.

It shall be done Lady; He is well made for dancing, thick i'th' Chest Madam, He will turn long and strongly.

Dutch.

He shall not be behinde a quality, That aptness in him or our cost can purchase, And see he lose no time.

Cel.

I'll take that order Madam.

Page.

Singing and dancing! 'las my case is worse, I rather need a Midwife, and a Nurse.

Exit Celia and Page.

Dutch.

Lactantio, my procurer not return'd yet? His malice, I have fitted with an office, Which he takes pleasure to discharge with rigor: He comes, and with him, my hearts Conqueror, My pleasing thraldom's near.

Enter General, Lactantio and the Guard.

Andr.

Not know the cause?

Lact.

Yes, you shall soon do that now, to the ruine

Of your neck-part, or some nine years imprison∣ment, You meet with mercy, and you scape with that; Beside your Lands all begg'd and seis'd upon; That's admirable favor. Here's the Dutchess.

Dutch.

Oh Sir y'are welcome.

Lact.

Marry bless me still From such a welcome.

Dutch.

You are hard to come by, It seems Sir by the guilt of your long stay.

Andr.

My guilt good Madam.

Dutch.

Sure y'had much a do To take him, had you not? speak truth Lactantio, And leave all favor, were you not in danger?

Lact.

Faith something neer it Madam: He grew head-strong, Furious and fierce; but 'tis not my condition To speak the worst things of mine enemy Madam, Therein I hold mine honor: But had fury Burst into all the violent storms that ever Plaid over anger in tempestuous man. I would have brought him to your Graces presence, Dead or alive.

Dutch.

You would not Sir?

Andr.

What pride Of pamper'd blood has mounted up to this puckfoist? If any way uncounsel'd of my judgment, My ignorance has stept into some error, (Which I could heart'ly curse) and so brought on me Your great displeasure, let me feel my sin In the full weight of Justice, vertuous Madam, And let it wake me throughly. But chaste Lady, Out of the bounty of your Grace, permit not This perfum'd parcel of curl'd powder'd hair To cast me in the poor rellish of his censure.

Dutch.

It shall not need good Sir; we are our self Of power sufficient to judge you, nev'r doubt it Sir. Withdraw Lactantio; carefully place your Guard I'th' next Room.

Lact.

You'll but fare the worse; You see your niceness spoils you; you'll go nigh now To feel your sin indeed.

Exit Lactantio and Guard:

Andr.

Hell-mouth be with thee. Was ever malice seen yet to gape wider For mans misfortunes?

Dutch.

First Sir, I should think You could not be so impudent to deny, What your own knowledge proves to you.

Andr.

That were a sin Madam, More gross then flattery spent upon a villain.

Dutch.

Your own confession dooms you Sir.

Andr.

Why Madam.

Dutch.

Do not you know I made a serious vow At my Lords death, never to marry more?

Andr.

That's a truth Madam, I'm a witness to.

Dutch.

Is't so Sir? you'll be taken presently, This man needs no accuser. Knowing so much, How durst you then attempt so bold a business As to sollicite me (so strictly setled) With tempting Letters, and loose lines of love?

Andr.

Who I do't Madam?

Dutch.

Sure the man will shortly Deny he lives, although he walks and breath.

Andr.

Better destruction snatch me quick from sight Of humane eyes, then I should sin so boldly.

Dutch.

'Twas well I kept it then from rage or fire, For my truths credit: Look you Sir, read out,

You know the hand and name:

Andr.

Andrugio!

Dutch.

And if such things be fit, the world shall judge!

Andr.

Madam.

Dutch.

Pish; that's not so; it begins otherwise Pray look again Sir; how you'ld slight your know∣ledge.

Andr.

By all the reputation I late won.

Dutch.

Nay, and you dare not read Sir, I am gone.

Andr.

Read? most fair Dutchess.

Dutch.

Oh, have you found it now? There's a sweet flatt'ring phrase for a beginning, You thought belike, that would o'rcome me.

Andr.

I Madam?

Dutch.

Nay on Sir, you are slothful▪

Andr.

The report of your Vow shall not fear me.

Dutch.

No? are you so resolute? 'Tis well for you Sir:

Andr.

I know y'are but a woman.

Dutch.

Well, what then Sir?

Andr.

And what a woman is, a wiseman knows.

Dutch.

Let him know what he can, he's glad to get us.

Andr.

Perhaps my condition may seem blunt to you.

Dutch:

Well; we finde no fault with your blunt∣ness.

Andr.

But no mans love can be more sharp set.

Dutch.

I there's good stuff now.

Andr.

And I know desires in both sexes have skill at that weapon.

Dutch.

Weapon! You begin like a Flatterer, and end like a Fencer. Are these fit lines now to be sent to us?

Andr.

Now by the honor of a man, his truth Madam, My name's abus'd.

Dutch.

Fie, fie, deny your hand! I will not deny mine; here take it freely Sir, And with it my true constant heart for ever. I never disgrac'd man that sought my favor.

Andr.

What mean you Madam?

Dutch.

To requite you Sir By curtesie, I hold my reputation, And you shall taste it: Sir, in as plain truth As the old time walk'd in, when love was simple And knew no art, nor guile, I affect you; My heart has made her choice. I love you Sir Above my vow; the frown that met you first, Wore not the livery of anger Sir, But of deep policy: I made your enemy The Instrument for all; there you may praise me, And 'twill not be ill given.

Andr.

Here's a strange Language! The constancy of love bless me from learning on't, Although ambition would soon teach it others. Madam, the service of whole life is yours. But—

Dutch.

Enough; thou'rt mine for ever. Within there.

Enter Lactantio, and the Guard.

Lact.

Madam.

Dutch.

Lay hands upon him, bear him hence, See he be kept close prisoner in our Pallace, The time's not yet ripe for our Nuptial Sollace.

Exit.

Lact.

This you could clear your self.

Andr.

There's a voice that wearies me More then mine own distractions.

Lact.

You are innocent?

Andr.

I have not a time idle enough from passion, To give this Devil an answer: Oh she's lost! Curst be that love, by which a better's crost. There my heart's setled.

Lact.

How is he disgrac'd, And I advanc'd in love? Faith he that can Wish more to his enemy, is a spightful man, And worthy to be punish'd.

Exeunt.

Act. 5.

Scaen. 1.

Enter Page, Celia, and Crotchet.

Cel.

SIr I'm of that opinion, being kept hard to't, In troth I think he'll take his prick-song well.

Crotch.

G, sol, re ut; you ghess not right y'saith. Mistress, you'll finde y'are in an error straight: Come on Sir, lay the Books down; you shall see now.

Page.

Would I'd an honest Caudle next my heart, Let whose would Sol Fa, I'ld give them my part. In troth methinks I have a great longing in me To bite a peece of the Musitians Nose off; But I'll rather lose my longing, then spoil the poor mans Singing; the very tip will serve my turn, methinks if I Could get it, that he might well spare; his Nose is of The longest—Oh my back.

Crotch.

You shall hear that; rehearse your Ga∣mot Boy:

Page.

Who'ld be thus toild for love, and want the joy?

Crotch.

Why when? begin Sir: I must stay your leisure.

Page.

Gamot, a re, b me, &c.

Crotch.

Ee la: Aloft, above the clouds my Boy.

Page.

It must be a better note then Ela Sir, That brings Musitians thither; they're too hasty, The most part of 'em, to take such a journey, And must needs fall by th' way.

Crotch.

How many Cliffs be there?

Page.

One Cliff Sir.

Crotch.

Oh intolerable heretick To voice and musick! Do you know but one Cliff?

Page.

No more; indeed I Sir, and at this time, I know too much of that.

Crotch.

How many Notes be there?

Page.

Eight Sir, I fear me I shall finde nine short∣ly, To my great shame and sorrow:—Oh my stomach!

Crotch.

Will you repeat your notes then? I must Sol Fa you, why when Sir?

Page.

A large, a long, a brief, a semibrief, a mi∣nom, a crotchet, A quaver, a semiquaver:

Crotch.

Oh, have you found the way?

Page.

Never trust me If I have not lost my wind with naming of 'em.

Crotch.

Come Boy, your mindes upon some other thing now: Set to your Song.

Page.

Was ever Wench so punish'd?

Crotch.

Ut. Come begin.

Page.

Ut me re fa sol la.

Crotch.

Keep time you foolish Boy—(Here they sing Pricksong) How like you this Madova?

Celia.

Pretty, He will do well in time being kept under.

Crotch.

I'll make his ears sore, and his knuckles ake else.

Cel.

And that's the way to bring a Boy to good∣ness Sir.

Crotch.

There's many now waxt proper Gentle∣men. Whom I have nipt i'ch' ear Wench, that's my com∣fort. Come sing me over the last song I taught you: Y'are perfect in that sure, look you keep time well, Or here I'll notch your faults up. Sol, Sol, begin Boy.

Musick, Song.

Cel.

So y'have done well Sir. Here comes the dancing Master now, y'are dis∣charg'd.

Enter Sinquapace the Dancer.

Sinq.

Oh Seignior Crotchet, Oh.

Crotch.

A minom rest, two cliffs, and a semibrief. In the name Of Alamire, what's the matter Sir?

Sinq.

The horriblest disaster that ever disgrac'd the lofty cunning of a dancer.

Crotch.

Be fa beme: Heaven forbid man.

Sinq.

Oh—oo—the most cruel Fortune!

Crotch.

That smiquaver is no friend to you, That I must tell you; 'tis not for a Dancer To put his voice so hard to't, every workman Must use his own tools Sir, de fa sol man, dilate The matter to me.

Sinq.

Faith riding upon my Foot-cloth, as I use to do, coming through a croud by chance, I let fall my Fiddle.

Crotch.

De sol re. Your Fiddle Sir?

Sinq.

Oh that such an instrument should be made to betray a poor Gentleman! nay, which is more lamentable, whose luck should it be to take up this unfortunate Fiddle, but a Barbers Prentice, who cryed out presently, according to his nature; You trim Gentleman on Horsback, y'have lost your Fid∣dle, your worships Fiddle; seeing me upon my Foot∣cloth, the mannerly Cockscomb could say no less. But away rid I Sir, put my horse to a caranto pace, and left my Fiddle behinde me:

Crotch.

De la sol re.

Sinq.

I, was't not a strange fortune, an excellent Treble-vial, by my Troth 'twas my Masters, when I was but a pumper, that is a puller on of Gentlemens Pumps.

Crotch.

C, c, sol fa: I knew you then Sir.

Sinq.

But I make no question, but I shall hear on't shortly at one Brokers or another, for I know the Barber will scourse it away for some old Cittron.

Crotch.

Ela me, my life for yours on that Sir; I must to my other Schollers, my hour calls me away: I leave you to your Practise, Fa sol la. Fare you well Sir:

Exit.

Sinq.

The Lavolto's of a merry heart be with you Sir; and a merry heart makes a good singing man; a man may love to hear himself talk, when he carries pith in's mouth—Metereza Celia.

Cel.

Seignior Sinquapace, the welcom'st Gentle∣man alive of A Dancer. This is the youth, he can do little yet; 'Tis Pricksong very poorly; he is one

Must have it put into him; somewhat dull Sir.

Sinq.

As you are all at first. You know 'twas long Ere you could learn your doubles▪

Cel.

I that's true Sir, But I can tickl't now. Fa, la, la, &c. Lo you, how like you me now Sir?

Sinq.

Marry pray for the Founder, here he stands; long may he live to receive quartridges, go brave, and pay his Mercer wondrous duly, I, and his jea∣lous Laundress, that for the love she bears him starches yellow, poor Soul; my own flesh knows I wrong her not. Come Metereza, once more shake your great hips, and your little heels, since you begin to fall in of your self, and dance over the end of the caranto I taught you last night.

Cel.

The tune's clear out of my head Sir.

Sinq.

A Pox of my little Usher, how long he stayes too with the second part of the former Fiddle! Come, I'll Sol fa it, i'th' mean time, Fa, la, la, la, &c. perfectly excellent. I will make you fit to dance with the best Christian Gentleman in Europe, and keep time with him for his heart, ere I give you over.

Cel.

Nay, I know I shall do well Sir, and I am somewhat proud on't, But 'twas my Mothers fault, when she danced with the Duke of Florence.

Sinq.

Why you'll never dance well, while you live, if you be not proud. I know that by my self; I may teach my heart out, if you have not the grace to follow me.

Cel.

I warrant you for that Sir:

Sinq.

Gentlewomen that are good Schollers Will come as near their Masters, as they can; I have known some lye with 'em for their better un∣derstanding,

I speak not this to draw you on for∣sooth; use your pleasure, if you come y'are wel∣come, you shall see a fine lodging, a dish of Com∣fits, Musick, and sweet Linnen.

Cel.

And trust me Sir, no woman can wish more in this world, Unless it be ten pound i'th' Chamber window, Laid ready in good gold against she rises.

Sinq.

Those things are got in a morning Wench with me.

Cel.

Indeed, I hold the morning the best time of getting; So says my Sister; she's a Lawyers wife Sir, And should know what belongs to cases best: A fitter time for this; I must not talk Too long of womens matters before Boys. He's very raw, you must take pains with him, It is the Dutchess minde it should be so; she loves him Well I tell you—

Exit.

Sinq.

How, love him? he's too little for any wo∣mans love i'th' Town, by three handfuls: I wonder of a great woman, sh' as no more wit y'faith; one of my pitch were somewhat tolerable.

Enter Usher.

Oh are you come! who would be thus plagued with a Dandiprat Usher! how many kicks do you deserve in conscience?

Usher.

Your Horse is safe Sir.

Sinq.

Now I talk't of kicking, 'twas well remem∣bred, is not the Footcloth stoln yet?

Usher.

More by good hap then any cunning Sir: Would any Gentleman but you, get a Tailors son to walk his Horse, in this dear time of black Velvet?

Sinq.

Troth thou saist true; thy care has got thy pardon; I'll venture so no more. Come my yong Scholler, I am ready for you now.

Page.

Alas 'twill kill me, I'm even as full of qualms as heart can bear: How shall I do to hold up? Alas Sir I can dance nothing but ill-favor'dly, A strain or two of Passa-Measures Galliard.

Sinq.

Marry y'are forwarder then I conceiv'd you, A toward Stripling; enter him Nicholao, For the fool's bashful, as they are all at first Till they be once well entred.

Usher.

Passa-Measures Sir?

Sinq.

I Sir, I hope you hear me; mark him now Boy. (Dance.) Ha well done, exc'llent Boys—Dainty fine Sprin∣gals; The glory of Dancers Hall, if they had any; And of all Professions, they had most need of one For room to practise in, yet they have none. O times! O manners! you have very little. Why should the leaden heel'd Plumber have his Hall, And the light-footed Dancer none at all? But Fortune de la guardo, things must be: W're born to teach in Back-houses and Nooks, Garrets sometimes, where't rains upon our Books. Come on Sir, are you ready? first your honor.

Page.

I'll wish no fo, a greater cross upon her:

Sinq.

Curtsey, heiday! Run to him Nicholao, by this light he will shame me; he makes curtsey like a Chamber-maid.

Usher.

Why what do you mean Page! are you mad? did you ever see a Boy begin a Dance, and make curtsey like a Wench before?

Page.

Troth I was thinking of another thing; And quite forgot my self, I pray forgive me Sir.

Sinq.

Come make amends then now with a good leg, and dance it sprightly: What a beastly leg has he made there now, 'twould vex ones heart out: Now begin Boy, Oh, oh, oh, oh, &c. open thy Knees, wider, wider, wider, wider; did you ever see a Boy dance clencht up, he needs a pick-lock; out upon thee for an arrant Ass, an arrant Ass, I shall lose my credit by thee, a pest'lence on thee. Here Boy hold the Vial, let me come to him, I shall get more disgrace by this little Monkey now, then by all the Ladies that ever I taught. Come on Sir now; cast thy leg out from thee, lift it up aloft Boy; a Pox, his knees are soader'd together, they're sow'd together; canst not stride? Oh I could eat thee up, I could eat thee up, and begin upon thy hinder quar∣ter, thy hinder quarter: I shall never teach this Boy without a skrew, his knees must be opened with a Vice, or there's no good to be done upon him—Who taught you to dance Boy?

Page.

It is but little Sir that I can do.

Sinq.

No; I'll be sworn for you.

Page.

And that Seignior Laurentio taught me Sir:

Sinq▪

Seignior Laurentio was an arrant Cocks∣comb, And fit to teach none but White-bakers children To knead their knees together. You can turn above ground Boy?

Page.

Not I Sir; my turns rather under-ground.

Sinq.

We'll see what you can do, I love to try What's in my Schollers, the first hour I teach them: Shew him a close trick now Nicholao. Ha, dainty Stripling! come Boy.

Page.

'Lass not I Sir, I am not for losty tricks, indeed I am not Sir:

Sinq.

How; such another word, down goes your Hose Boy.

Page.

Alas 'tis time for me to do any thing then.

Sinq.

Heyday he's down; is this your lofty trick Boy?

Usher.

O Master, the Boy swoons; he's dead I fear me.

Sinq.

Dead! I nev'r knew one die with a lofty trick before. Up Sirrah, up.

Page.

A Midwife, run for a Midwife.

Sinq.

A Midwife! By this light the Boy's with childe. A miracle! Some Woman is the Father. The World's turn'd upside down, sure if Men breed, Women must get, one never could do both yet. No marv'l you danc'd close-knee'd the Sinquapace: Put up my Fiddle, here's a stranger case—

Exeunt Sinquapace and Page.

Usher.

That 'tis I'll swear; 'twill make the Dutch∣ess wonder. I fear me 'twill bring dancing out of request, And hinder our profession for a time: Your Women that are closely got with childe, Will put themselves clean out of exercise, And will not venture now for fear of meeting Their shames in a Caranto, specially If they be near their time: Well in my knowledge, If that should happen, we are sure to lose Many a good Waiting-woman, that's now over shooes. Alas the while—

Exit.

Scaen. 2.

Enter the Dutchess and Celia.

Dutch.

Thou tell'st me things are enemies to rea∣son, I cannot get my Faith to entertain 'em, And I hope nev'r shall.

Cel.

'Tis too true Madam.

Dutch.

I say 'tis false: 'Twere better th'hadst been dumb, Then spoke a truth s'unpleasing; thou shalt get But little praise by't: He whom we affect To place his love upon so base a Creature!

Cel.

Nay ugliness it self, you'ld say so Madam, If you but saw her once, a strowling Gipsey, No Christian that is born a Hinde could love her, She's the Suns Master-peece for tawniness; Yet have I seen Andrugio's arms about her, Perceived his hollow whisprings in her ear, His joys at meeting her.

Dutch.

What joy could that be?

Cel.

Such Madam, I have seldom seen it equal'd; He kist her with that greediness of affection, As if his lips had been as red as yours. I look'd still when he would be black in mouth, Like Boys with eating Hedg-berries: Nay, more Madam, He brib'd one of his Keepers with ten Duckets To finde her out amongst a flight of Gipseys.

Dutch.

I'll have that Keeper hang'd, and you for malice, She cannot be so bad as you report, Whom he so firmly loves, you're false in much, And I will have you try'd; go fetch her to us:

Exit Celia.

He cannot be himself, and appear guilty

Of such gross folly, has an eye of judgment, And that will overlook him: This Wench fails In understanding service; she must home, Live at her house i'th' Country, she decayes In beauty and discretion: Who has't brought there?

Enter Celia and Aurelia.

Cel.

This is she Madam.

Dutch.

Youth and whiteness bless me, It is not possible: He talk'd sensibly Within this hour, this cannot be: How does he? I fear me my restraint has made him mad.

Cel.

His health is perfect, Madam.

Dutch.

You are perfect In falshood still, he's certainly distracted: Though I'ld be loth to foul my words upon her, She looks so beastly, yet I'll ask the question, Are you belov'd (sweet face) of Andrugio?

Aur.

Yes showr'ly Mistress, he done love me 'Bove all the Girls that shine above me. Full often has he sweetly kist me, And wept as often when he mist me: Swore he was to marry none, But me alone.

Dutch.

Out on thee; marry thee? away with her. Clear mine eyes of her:

Exit Aurelia.

A Curat that has got his place by Simony, Is not half black enough to marry thee. Surely the man's far spent, how ere he carries it, He's without question mad; but I nev'r knew Man bear it better before company. The love of Woman wears so thick a blindness, It sees no fault, but onely mans unkindness;

And that's so gross, it may be felt: Here Celia Take this; with speed command Andrugio to us, And his guard from him.

Cel

It shall strait be done Madam.

Exit.

Dutch.

I'll look into his carriage more judici∣ously, When I next get him. A wrong done to Beauty, Is greater then an injury done to Love, And we'll less pardon it; for had it been A creature whose perfection had out-shin'd me, It had been honorable judgment in him, And to my peace a noble satisfaction: But as it is, 'tis monstrous above folly! Look he be mad indeed, and throughly gone, Or he pays deerly for't: 'Tis not The ordinary madness of a Gentleman, That shall excuse him here; 'had better lose His wits eternally, then lose my Grace: So strange is the condition of his fall, He's safe in nothing, but in loss of all.

Enter Andrugio.

He comes: Now by the Fruits of all my hopes, A man that has his wits, cannot look better; It likes me well enough, there's life in's eye, And civil health in's Cheek; he stands with judg∣ment, And bears his body well: What ails this man? Sure I durst venture him 'mongst a thousand Ladies. Let 'em shoot all their scoffs, which makes none laugh But their own Waiting-women, and they dare do no otherwise. Come neerer Sir: I pray keep further off, Now I remember you.

Andr.

What new trick's in this now?

Dutch.

How long have you been mad Sir?

Andr.

Mad! a great time Lady; Since I first knew I should not sin▪ yet sin'd; That's now some thirty years; By'r Lady upwards.

Dutch

This man speaks reason, wondrous feel∣ingly, Enough to teach the rudest Soul good manners. You cannot be excus'd with lightness now, Or frantick fits; y're able to instruct Sir, And be a light to men. If you have errors, They be not ignorant in you, but wilful, And in that state I seise on 'em. Did I Bring thee acquainted lately with my heart! And when thou thought'st a storm of anger took thee, It in a moment clear'd up all to love, To the abusing of thy spiteful enemy That sought to fix his malice upon thee, And couldst thou so requite me?

Andr.

How! good Madam.

Dutch.

To wrong all worth in man, to deal so basely Upon contempt it self, disdain and loathsomness; A thing whose face through ugliness frights children; A stragling Gipsey!

Andr.

See how you may erre, Madam, Through wrongful information; by my hopes Of truth and mercy, there is no such love Bestow'd upon a creature so unworthy.

Dutch

No, then you cannot flie me; fetch her back: And though the sight of her displease mine eye Worse then th'offensiv'st object, Earth and Nature Can present to us; yet for truths probation, We will endur't contentfully: What now Art thou return'd without her?

Enter Celia and Aurelia.

Andr.

No Madam: This is she my peace dwells in, If here be either baseness of discent, Rudeness of manners or deformity In face or fashion, I have lost, I'll yeild it; Tax me severely Madam.

Dutch.

How thou standst, As dumb as the Salt-pillar; where's this Gipsey? What no? I cannot blame thee then for silence. Now I'm confounded too, and take part with thee.

Aur.

Your pardon, and your pity, vertuous Madam. Cruel restraint joyn'd with the power of love, Taught me that art, in that disguise I'scap'd The hardness of my Fortunes; you that see What loves force is, good Madam pity me.

Andr.

Your Grace has ever been the friend of truth; And here 'tis set before you.

Dutch.

I confess I have no wrong at all; she's yonger, fairer. He has not now dishonor'd me in choice, I much commend his noble care and judgment. 'Twas a just cross led in by a temptation, For offering but to part from my dear Vow, And I'll embrace it cheerfully: Rise both, The joys of faithful marriage bless your souls, I will not part you.

Andr.

Vertues crown be yours Madam.

Enter Lactantio.

Aur.

Oh there appears the life of all my wishes;

Is your Grace pleas'd out of your bounteous good∣ness To a poor Virgins comforts, I shall freely Enjoy whom my heart loves.

Dutch.

Our word is past, Enjoy without disturbance.

Aur.

There Lactantio Spread thy arms open wide, to welcome her That has wrought all this means to rest in thee.

Andr.

Death of my joys; how's this?

Lact.

Prethee away fond Fool, hast' no shame in thee, Th'art bold and ignorant, what ere thou art.

Aur.

What ere I am, do not you know me then?

Lact.

Yes for some Waiting-vessel, but the times Are chang'd with me, if y'had the grace to know 'em. I look'd for more respect, I am not spoke withal After this rate I tell you; learn hereafter To know what belongs to me, you shall see All the Court teach you shortly. Farewel Manners.

Dutch.

I'll mark the event of this.

Aur.

I'have undone my self two ways at once; lost a great deal of time, And now I am like to lose more. O my fortune! I was nineteen yesterday, and partly vow'd To have a childe by twenty, if not twain: To see how Maids are crost! but I'm plagu'd justly: And she that makes a fool of her first love, Let her ne'r look to prosper, Sir.

Andr.

Oh falshood!

Aur.

Have you forgiveness in you? There's more hope of me Then of a Maid that never yet offended.

Andr.

Make me your property?

Aur.

I'll promise you, I'll never make you worse: And Sir you know There are worse things for women to make men. But by my hope of children, (and all lawful) I'll be as true for ever to your Bed As she, in thought or deed, that never err'd:

Andr.

I'll once believe a woman, be it but to strengthen Weak faith in other men: I have a love That covers all thy faults.

Enter Lord Cardinal and the Lords.

L. Card.

Nephew, prepare thy self With meekness and thanksgiving to receive Thy reverend fortune: Amongst all the Lords, Her close affection now makes choice of thee:

Lact.

Alas I'm not to learn to know that now. Where could she make choice here, if I were missing? 'Twould trouble the whole State, and puzzle 'em all To finde out such another.

L. Card.

'Tis high time Madam, If your Grace please, to make election now. Behold, they are all assembled!

Dutch.

What election? You speak things strange to me Sir.

L. Card.

How! good Madam.

Dutch.

Give me your meaning plainly like a Fa∣ther. You are too religious Sir to deal in Riddles.

L. Card.

Is there a plainer way then leads to mar∣riage, Madam, And the man set before you?

Dutch.

O Blasphemy To Sanctimonious Faith! comes it from you Sir! An ill example; know you what you speak,

Or who you are? Is not my Vow in place? How dare you be so bold Sir? Say a woman Were tempt with a temptation, must you presently Take all th'advantage on't?

L. Card.

Is this in earnest, Madam?

Dutch.

Heaven pardon you; if you do not think so Sir, Y'have much to answer for: But I will leave you; Return I humbly now from whence I fell. All you blest powers that Register the Vows Of Virgins and chaste Matrons, look on me With eyes of mercy; seal forgiveness to me By signs of inward peace; and to be surer, That I will never fail your good hopes of me, I binde my self more strictly. All my riches I'll speedily commend to holy uses; This Temple unto some religious Sanctuary, Where all my time to come I will allow For fruitful thoughts; so knit I up my Vow.

Lactant.

This is to hawk at Eagles: Pox of pride, It lays a man i'th' mire still, like a Jade That has too many tricks, and ne'r a good one. I must gape high, I'm in a sweet case now, I was sure of one, and now I have lost her too.

Dutch.

I know, my Lord, all that great studious care Is for your Kinsman; he's provided for According to his merits.

L. Card.

How's that! good Madam?

Dutch.

Upon the firmness of my Faith it's true Sir; See here's the Gentlewoman; the match was made Near forty weeks ago: He knows the time Sir, Better then I can tell him, and the poor Gentlewo∣man

Better then he: But being Religious Sir, and fearing you, He durst not own her for his wife till now, Onely contracted with her in mans apparel, For the more modesty, because he was bashful, And never could endure the sight of woman, For fear that you should see her: This was he Chose for my love; this Page prefer'd to me.

Lact.

I'm paid with mine own money.

L. Card.

Dare hypocrisie, For fear of vengeance, sit so close to Vertue. Steal'st thou a holy vestment from Religion, To cloath forbidden Lust with? th'open villainy Goes before thee to mercy, and his Penitency Is blest with a more sweet and quick return. I utterly disclaim all blood in thee. I'll sooner make a Parracide my heir, Then such a monster. O forgive me Madam! Th'apprehension of the wrong to you Has a sins wait at it. I forget all Charity, When I but think upon him.

Dutch.

Nay, my Lord, At our request, since we are pleas'd to pardon, And send remission to all former errors, Which conscionable Justice now sets right, From you we expect patience; h'as had punish∣ment Enough in his false hopes; trust me he has Sir; They have requited his dissembling largely. And to erect your falling-goodness to him, We'll begin first our self: Ten thousand Duckets The Gentlewoman shall bring out of our Treasure, To make her dowry.

L. Card.

None has the true way Of over-coming anger with meek vertue, Like your compassionate Grace.

Lact.

Curse of this fortune▪ This 'tis to meddle with taking stuff, whose Belly cannot be confin'd in a Waste-band: Pray what have you done with the Breeches, we shall have need of 'em shortly; and we get children so fast, they are too good to be cast away. My Son and Heir need not scorn to wear what his Mother has left off: I had my fortune told me by a Gipsey seven years ago, she said then I should be the spoil of many a Maid, and at seven years end marry a Quean for my labor; which falls out wicked and true.

Dutch.

We all have faults; look not so much on his. Who lives i'th' world that never did amiss? For you Aurelia, I commend your choice, Y'have one after our heart: And though your Fa∣ther Be not in presence, we'll assure his voice; Doubt not his liking, his o'r▪ joying rather: You Sir embrace your own, 'tis your full due; No Page serves me more, that once dwells with you. Oh they that search out mans intents, shall finde There's more Dissemblers then of Women kinde.

Exeunt.

FINIS.