Playes written by the thrice noble, illustrious and excellent princess, the Lady Marchioness of Newcastle.

Act V.

Scene 31.

Enter Monsieur Frere, and Madamoiselle Soeur.

Soeur.

Brother, speak no more upon so bad a subject, for fear I wish you dumb: for the very breath that's sent forth with your words, will blister both my ears: I would willingly hide your faults, nay I am asham'd to make them known; but if you do persist, by Heaven I will discover your wicked desires, both to my Father and Husband.

Frere.

Will you so?

Soeur.

Yes that I will.

Frere.

Well, I will leave you, and try if Reason can conquer your evil de∣sires, or else I'll die.

Soeur.

Heaven pour some holy Balsom into your fester'd soul.

Exeunt.

Scene 32:

Enter Monsieur Malateste, and Madam Malateste his Wife.

MOnsieur Mal.

Wife, I am come an humble Petitioner to you in the be∣half of Nan, she hath been a servant here ever since I was first maried to my other Wife.

Madam.

No, no, Husband, I will have none of your whores in the house where I live; if you must have whores, go seek them abroad.

Monsieur.

Pray let not your jealous Passion turn away a good servant.

Madam.

Had you rather please your servant, a whore, or me?

Monsieur.

Why you.

Madam.

Then turn her away.

Monsieur.

But surely Wife you will let me have so much power, as to keep an old servant.

Madam.

No Husband, if your old servant be a young lusty wench.

Monsieur.

But I have pass'd my word that she shall stay.

Madam.

And I have sworn an Oath that she shall go away.

Monsieur.

But my promise must be kept: wherefore she shall not goe away.

Madam.

I say she shall go away; nay more, I will have her whip'd at the end of a Cart, and then sent out of doors.

Monsieur.

As I am Master, I will command none shall touch her; and let me see who dares touch her.

Madam.

VVho dares touch her? why I can hire poor fellows for money, not only to whip her, but murder you.

Monsieur.

Are you so free with my Estate? I will discharge you of that Of∣fice of keeping my money.

Madam.

If you do, I have Youth and Beauty, that will hite me Revengers, and get me Champions.

Monsieur.

Will you so?

Madam.

Yes, or any thing rather than want my will; and know, I per∣fectly hate you, for taking my Maids part against me.

Monsieur.

Nay prethee Wife be not so cholerick: for I said all this but to try thee.

Madam.

You shall prove me, Husband, before I have done.

Exeunt.

Scene 33.

Enter Madam Soeur alone.

Soeur.

Shall I divulge my Brothers Crimes, which are such Crimes as will set a mark of Infamy upon my Family and Race for ever? or shall I let Vice run without restraint? or shall I prove false to my Husbands bed, to save my brothers life? or shall I damn my Soul and his, to satisfie his wilde desires? O no, we both will die, to save our Souls, and keep our Honours clear.

Exit.

Scene 34.

Enter Monsieur Frere alone?

FRere.

The more I struggle with my Affections, the weaker do I grow for to resist. If Gods had power, they sure would give me strength, or were they just, they would exact no more than I could pay; and if they cannot help, or will not help me, Furies rise up from the infernal deep, and give my Actions aid; Devils assist me, and I will learn you to be more evil than you are; and when my black horrid designs are fully finish'd, then take my soul, which is the quintessence of wickedness, and squeeze some venom forth up∣on the World, that may infect mankind with plagues of sins

There multitudes will bury mine, Or count me as a Saint, and offer at my Shrine.

Exit.

Scene 35.

Enter Monsieur Malateste, and his Maid Nan.

MAlateste.

Nan, you must be contented, for you must be gone: for your Lady will not suffer you to be in the house.

Nan.

Will you visit me, if I should live near your House, at the next Town?

Malateste.

No: for that will cause a parting betwixt my Wife and me, which I would not have for all the World: wherefore Nan, God be with you.

Nan.

May your House be your Hell, and your Wife be your Devil.

Exeunt.

Scene 36.

Enter Madam Malateste, and her Maid.

MAid.

What will your Ladyship have for your Supper?

Madam.

Whatsoever is rare and costly

Exit maid.

Enter Steward.

Steward.

Did your Ladyship send for me?

Madam Mal.

Yes: for you having been an old servant in my Fathers House, will be more diligent to observe and obey my commands: where∣fore go to the Metropolitan City, and there try all those that trade in vani∣ties, and see if they will give me credit, in case my Husband should restrain his purse from me, and tell them that they may may make my Husband pay my debts. The next is, I would have you take me a fine house in the City: for I intend to live there, and not in this dull place, where I see no body but my Husband, who spends his time in sneaking after his Maids tails, having no other imployment; besides, solitariness begets melancholy, and melan∣choly begets suspition, and suspition jealousie; so that my Husband grows amorous with idleness, and jealous with melancholy. Thus he hath the plea∣sure of variety, and I the pain of jealousie: wherefore be you industrious to obey my command.

Steward.

I shall Madam.

Exeunt.

Scene. 37.

Enter Madamoiselle Amor, as to her Father Monsieur Sensible.

MAdam Amor.

Good Sir conceal my Passion, left it become a scorn, when once 'tis known: for all rejected Lovers are despised, and those that have some small returns of Love; yet do those saint Affections triumph vaingloriously upon those that are strong, and make them as their slaves.

Sensible.

Surely Child thy Affections shall not be divulged by me, I only wish thy Passions were as silent in thy breast, as on my tongue, as that he thou lovest so much may lie as dead and buried in thy memory.

Amor.

There's no way to bury Love, unless it buries me.

Exeunt.

Scene 38.

Enter Monsieur Malateste, and Madam Malateste.

MOnsieur Mal.

I hear Wife that you are going to the Metropolitan City.

Madam.

Yes Husband: for I find my self much troubled with the Spleen, and therefore I go to try if I can be cur'd.

Monsieur.

Why, will the City cure the Spleen?

Madam.

Yes, for it is the only remedy: for melancholy must be diverted with divertisements; besides, there are the best Physicians.

Monsieur.

I will send for some of the best and most famous Physicians from thence, if you will stay.

Madam.

By mo means: for they will exact so much upon your impor∣tance, as they will cost more money than their journey is worth.

Monsieur.

But Wife, it is my delight and profit to live in the Country; besides, I hate the City.

Madam.

And I hate the Country.

Monsieur.

But every good Wife ought to conform her self to her Hus∣bands humours and will.

Madam.

But Husband, I profess my self no good Wife: wherefore I will follow my own humour.

Exit Madam.

He alone.

Monsieur Malateste.

I finde there is no crossing her, she will have her Will.

Exit.

Scene 39.

Enter Monsieur Marry, and Madam Soeur.

MOnsieur Marry.

Wife, I am come to rob your Cabinet of all the Ri∣bands that are in it: for I have made a running match betwixt Monsieur la Whips Nag, and your Brothers Barb; and he faith that he shall not run, unless you give him Ribands: for he is perswaded your Favours will make him win.

Soeur.

Those Ribands I have, you shall have, Husband: But what will my Brother say if his Barb should lose the match?

Marry.

I ask'd him that question, and he answer'd, that if he lost, he would knock his Barbs brains out of his head.

Soeur.

Where is my Brother?

Marry.

Why he is with your Father, and such a good companion he is to day, and so merry, as your Father is so fond of his company, insomuch as he hangs about his neck as a new-maried wife: But I conceive the chief reason is, that your Brother seems to consent to marry the Lady Amor.

Soeur.

I am glad of that with all my soul.

Marry.

But he says, if he doth marry her, It must be by your perswa∣sons.

Soeur.

He shall not want perswading, if I can perswade him.

Marry.

Come Wife, will you give me some Ribands?

Soeur.

Yes Husband, I will go fetch them.

Marry.

Nay Wife, I will go along with you.

Exeunt.

Scene 40.

Enter Madamoiselle Amor alone, as in a melancholy humour.

MAdam Amor.

Thoughts, cease to move, and let my Soul take rest, or let the damps of grief quench out lifes flame.

Enter Monsieur Sensible.

Sensible.

My dear Child, do not pine away for Love: for I will get thee a handsomer man than Monsieur Frere.

Amor.

Sir, I am not so much in love with his person, as to dote so sondly thereon.

Sensible.

What makes you so in love with him then? for you have no great acquaintance with him.

Amor.

Lovers can seldome give a Reason for their Passion; yet mine grew from your superlative praises; those praises drew my Soul out at my Ears to entertain his love: But since my Soul misles of what it seeks, will not return, but leave my body empty to wander like a ghost, in gloomy sadness, and midnight melancholy.

Sensible.

I did mistake the subject I spoke of, the substance being false, those praises were not current: wherefore lay them aside, and fling them from thee.

Amor.

I cannot: for they are minted, and have Loves stamp, and being out, increases like to Interest-money, and is become so vast a summ, as I be∣lieve all praises past, present, or what's to come, or can be, are too few for his merits, and too short of his worth.

Sensible.

Rather than praise him, I wish my Tongue had been for ever dumb.

Amor.

O wish not so, but rather I had been for ever deaf.

She goes out.

He alone.

Sensible.

My Child is undone.

Exeunt.

Scene 41.

Enter two servants of Monsieur Malateste's.

1 SErvant.

My Master looks so lean and pale, as I doubt he is in a Con∣sumption.

2 Servant.

Faith he takes something to heart, whatsoever it is.

1 Servant.

I doubt he is jealous.

2 Servant.

He hath reason: for if my Lady doth not cuckold him, yet she gives the World cause to think she doth: for she is never without her Gal∣lants.

1 Servant.

There is a great difference betwixt our Lady that is dead, and this.

Enter Monsieur Malateste.

Malateste.

Is my Wife come home yet?

1 Servant.

No Sir.

Malateste.

I think it be about twelve of the Clock.

1 Servant.

It is past one Sir.

Malateste.

If it be so late, I will sit up no longer watching for my Wives coming home, but I will go to bed; for I am not very well.

1 Servant.

You do not look well, Sir.

Malateste.

Indeed I am sick.

Exeunt.

Scene 42.

Enter Madam Soeur, and Monsieur Frere:

MAdam Soeur.

Lord Brother, what is the reason you are come back so soon? Hath not your Barb run the Race?

Frere.

No.

Soeur.

What makes you here then?

Frere.

To see you.

Soeur.

To see me? why I shall give you no thanks, because you left my Husband behind you.

Frere.

I do not come for your thanks, I come to please my self.

Soeur.

Prethee Brother get thee gone: for thy face doth not appear so honest as it uses to do.

Frere.

I do not know how my Face doth appear; but my Heart is as it was, your faithful Lover.

Soeur.

Heaven forbid you should relapse into your old disease.

Frere.

Let me tell you, Sister, I am as I was, and was as I am, that is, from the first time I saw you, since I came from Travel, I have been in love with you, and must enjoy you; and if you will imbrace my love with a free consent, so, if not, I'll force you to it.

Soeur.

Heaven will never suffer it, but cleave the Earth, and swallow you alive.

Frere.

I care not, so you be in my Arms; but I will first try Heavens pow∣er, and struggle with the Deities.

He takes her in his arms, and carries her out, she cries help, help, murther, murther.

Exeunt.

Scene 43.

Enter Monsieur Malateste as being not well, and his Wife Ma∣dam Malateste.

MOnsieur Mal.

Wife, Is this the way to cure melancholy? to sit up all night at Cards, and to lose five hundred pounds at a sitting? or to stay all night abroad a Dancing and Revelling.

Madam.

O yes; for the Doctors say there is nothing better than good company, to imploy the Thoughts with (outward Objects) otherwise the Thoughts feed too much upon the Body; besides, they say that Exercise is excellent good to open Obstructions, and to disperse melancholy Vapour; and the Doctors say, there is no Exercise better than Dancing, because there are a great Company meet together, which adds Pleasure to the La∣bour.

Monsieur.

My other Wife did not do thus.

Madam.

Wherefore she died in her youth with melancholy; but I mean to live while I am old, if mirth and good company will keep me alive; and know I am not so kind-hearted to kill my self, to spare your Purse, or to please your Humour.

The Lady goes out, and he goes out after, sighing.

Scene 44.

Enter Madam Soeur alone, as ravished.

Soeur.

Who will call unto the Gods for aid, since they assist not Innocency, nor give protection to a Virtuous Life? Is Piery of no use? or is Hea∣ven so obdurate, no holy prayers can enter Heaven-gates, or penitential tears can move the Gods to pity? But O my sorrows are too big for words, and all actions too little for his punishment.

Enter Monsieur Frere all unbutton'd, and his sword drawn in his hand.

Frere.

Sister, I must die, wherefore you must not live: for I cannot be without your company, although in death, and in the silent grave, where no Love's made, nor Passion known.

Soeur.

It's welcom News: for if death comes not by your hand, my hand shall give a passage unto life.

Frere.

There is none so sit to act that part as I, who am so full of sin, want nothing now but murther to make up measure.

He wounds her to death.

Soeur.

Death, thou are my griefs Reprieve, and wilt unlade my Soul from heavy thoughts that miserable life throws on, and sinks me to the Earth. Brother farewel, may all your crimes be buried in my grave, and may my shame and yours be never known.

Oh, Oh, dies.

Frere.

Now she is dead, my Mind is at rest, since I know none can enjoy her after me; but I will follow thee: I come, my Mistris, Wife, and Si∣ster all in one.

Monsieur Frere falls upon the point of his sword, then falls clos'd by Madam Soeur, and lays his Arm over her, then speaks.

You Gods of Love, if any Gods there be, O hear my prayer! And as we came both from one Womb, so joyn our Souls in the Elizium, out Bodies in one Tomb.

Oh, oh, oh, dies.

Scene 45.

Enter Monsieur Malateste upon a Couch, as sick of a Consumption, his Friend Monsieur Fefy sitting by him. Then enters Madam Malateste to her sick Husband.

MOnsieur Mal.

Wife, you are very unkind, that you will not come to see me now I am sick, nor so much as send to know how I do.

Madam.

I am loth to trouble you with unnecessary visits, or impertinent questions.

Monsieur.

Is it unnecessary or impertinent to see a Husband when he is sick? or to ask how he doth?

Madam.

Yes, when their visits and questions can do them no good: But God be with you, for I must be gone.

Monsieur.

What, already?

Madam.

Yes; for I doubt I have staid too long: for I have appointed a meeting, and it will be a dishonour for me to break my word.

Fefy.

But it will be more dishonour to be dancing when your Husband is dying, Lady.

Madam.

What, will you teach me? go tutor Girls and Boys, and not me.

Monsieur.

Let her go, friend: for her anger will disturb me.

Exit Lady.

Fefy.

I know not what her anger doth you; but her neglect of you doth disturb me: And for my part, I wonder how you can suffer her.

Malateste.

Alas how shall I help, or remedy it? But Heaven is just, and punishes me for the neglect I used towards my first Wife, who was virtuous and kind.

Fefy.

She was a sweet Lady indeed.

Malateste.

O she was! But I Devil as I was, to use her as I did, making her a slave unto my whore and frowns, conjecturing all her Virtues to a con∣trary sense: for I mistook her patience for simplicity, her kindness for wan∣tonness, her thrist for covetousness, her obedience for flattery, her retir'd life for dull stupidity; and what with the grief to think how ill I used her, and grieving to see how ill this Wife uses me, wasting my Honour and Estate, she hath brought me into a Consumption, as you see: But when I am dead, as I cannot live long, I desire you, who are my Executor, to let me buried in the same Tomb wherein my Wife is laid: for it is a joy to me, to think my dust shall be mixt with her pure ashes: for I had rather be in the grave with my first Wife, than live in a Throne with my second. But I grow very sick, even to death: wherefore let me be removed.

Exeunt.

Scene 46.

Enter Monsieur Pere, and his Son-in-law Monsieur Marry.

MOnsieur Pere.

Son-in-law, did your Brother say he was very ill?

Marry.

He said he had such a pain on his left side, as he could not sit on his horse, but must be forced to return home again.

Pere.

Heaven bless him: for my heart is so full of fears and doubts, as if it did Prognosticate some great misfortune to me.

Marry.

Pray Sir be not so dejected, nor look so pale; I dare warrant you the News that his Barb hath won the Race, will be a sufficient Cataplasm to take away his Stitch.

The Father and Son-in-law meet a servant.

Pere.

How doth my Son and daughter?

Servant.

I think they are both well, Sir.

Pere.

Why, do not you know, and yet dwell in the same House?

Servant.

No indeed not I: for I only saw my young Master go towards my Ladies lodging, but I did not follow to inquire of their healths, for feat they should be angry, and think me bold.

Enter Madam Soeur's Maid.

Pere.

Where is you Lady?

Maid.

In her Chamber I think, Sir.

Pere.

Do you but think so? do you not know? 'Tis a sign you wait not very diligently.

Maid.

Why Sir, I met my young Master going to his Sisters Chamber, and he sent me on an Errand, and when I came back, the outward doors were lock'd, so as I could not get in any ways.

Marry.

The doors lock'd, say you?

Maid.

Yes Sir.

Marry.

Let them be broken open.

Pere.

O my doubts foretell à miserable Tragedy.

The door seems to be broke open; the servant seeing the mur∣der'd Couple, cries out, Murther, murther; Monsieur Pere falls down dead at the sight; while the servant strives to recover life in the old man, Monsieur Marry runs to his murder'd wife, and falls to the ground and kis∣ses her, and then tears his hair, and beats his breast, and being as distracted, rises hastily, and catches up the bloody sword to kill himself; his servants hold and hinder him from that Act.

Marry.

Villains let go, she shall not wander in the silent shades without my company; besides, my soul will croud through multitudes of souls, that flock to Charons Boat, to make an easie passage for her pure soul: wherefore let go, I command you as being your Master, let go.

The servants still scuffle for to get away the sword; in come more servants, and carrie him out, as being distracted. Monsieur Pere, not to be recover'd, is carried out with the two murder'd bodies.

Enter three Servants.

1 Servant.

This is so strange an Accident, that hardly Story can mention the like.

2 Servant.

I wonder how they came murder'd, the door being lock'd, and none but themselves; if it had been thieves, they would have robbed them, as well as murder'd them.

1 Servant.

I believe my young Master was the Thief that did both rob and murther.

3 Servant.

Well, I could tell a story that I heard, listning one day at my Ladies Chamber-door; but I will not.

1 Servant.

Prethee tell it us.

3 Servant.

No, I will not, you shall excuse me for this time.

Exeunt.

Scene. 47.

Enter Monsieur Sensible, and Madamoiselle Amor.

SEnsible.

Daughter, I am come to bring you a Medicine to take out the sting of Love.

Amor.

What is it Sir?

Sensible.

Why, Monsieur Frere hath most wickedly kill'd himself.

She staggers.

Madam Amor.

Although I cannot usher him to the Grave, I'll follow him.

Falls down dead.

Sensible.

Help, help, for Heavens sake, help.

Enter Servants.

Sensible.

O my Child is dead! O she is dead, she is dead! Carry her to her Bed.

Exit Father and Servants.

Enter two servants, running and meeting each other.

1 Servant.

O my Lady is quite dead, and past all cure, and her Father, I think, will die also.

2 Servant.

I am sure there is a sad, a sad House to day.

Exeunt.

FINIS.