Al fooles a comedy, presented at the Black Fryers, and lately before his Maiestie. Written by George Chapman.

Actus secundi, (Book 2)

Scaena prima. (Book 2)

Gostan••o, Marcantonio.

Gost.

It is your owne too simple lenitie, And doting indulgence showne to him still That thus hath taught your Sonne to be no Sonne, As you haue vs'd him, therefore so you haue him: Durst my Sonne thus turne rebell to his dutie, Steale vp a match vnshuting his estate Without all knowledge of or friend or father; And to make that good with a worse offence resolue to runne beyond Sea to the warres. Durst my Sonne serue me thus? well, I haue stayd him, Though much against my disposition, And this howre I haue set for his repayre, With his young mistresse and concealed wife, And in my house here they shall soiourne both Till your blacke angers storme be ouer-blowne.

Mar.

My angers storme? Ah poore Fortunio, One gentle word from th•• would soone resolue The storme of my rage to a showre of teares▪

Gost.

In that vaine still? well Marcantonio, Gur olde acquaintance and long neighbourhood Ties my affection to you, and the good Of your whole house▪ in kinde regard whereof I haue aduisde you for your credite sake, And for the tender welfare of your sonne, To frowne on him a little; if you do not But at ••rst parle take him to your fauour, I protest vtterly to renownce all care Of you and yours, and all your amities. They say hee's wretched that out of himselfe Cannot draw counsell to his propper weale, But h••'s thrice wretched that has neither counsell Within himselfe, nor apprehension

Of counsaile for his owne good, from another.

M••r.

Well, I will arme my selfe against this weaknes The best I can; I long to see this Hellene That hath enchaunted my young Paris thus, And's like to set all our poore Trop•• on fire.

Enter Valerio with a Page. Mar••. retyres himself••.

Gost.

Here comes my Sonne; withdraw, take vp your stand, You shall heare odds betwixt your Sonne and ••ine.

Val.

Tell him I can not doo't: Shall I be made A foolish Nouice, my Purse set a broch By euerie cheating come you seauen? to lend My Money and be laught at? tell him plaine I professe Husbandrie, and will not play The Prodigall like him, gainst my profession.

Gost.

Here's a Sonne.

Mar.

An admi••able sparke.

Page.

Well sir, Ile tell him so.

Exit Page.

Ual.

Sfoote, let him lead A better Husbands life, and liue not idlely, Spending his time, his coyne, and selfe on Wenches.

Gost.

Why what's the matter Sonne?

Ual.

Cry mercie Sir; why there comes messengers From this and that braue Gallant▪ and such Gallants, As I protest I saw but through a Grate.

Gost.

And what's this Message?

Val.

Faith Sir, h••'s disappoynted Of payments▪ and disfurnisht of meanes present▪ If I would do him the kind office therefore To trust him but some seuen-night with the keeping▪ Of fourtie Crownes for m••e, h•• deepely sweare▪ As hee's a Gentleman, to discharge his trust, And that I shall eternally endeare him To my wisht seruice, he protestes and contestes.

Gost.

Good words Ualerio; but thou art too 〈◊〉〈◊〉 To be decein'd by breath: Ile turne thee loose To the most cunning Cheater of them all.

Ual.

Sfoote, Hee's not ashamde besides to charge mee With a late Promise: I must yeeld in deed, I did (to shift him with some contentment) Make such a friuall promise.

Gost.

I, well done, Promises are no Fetters: with that tongue Thy promise past, vnpromise it againe. Wherefore has Man a Tongue, of powre to speake, But to speake still to his owne priuate purpose? Beastes vtter but one sound; but Men haue change Of speach and Reason, euen by Nature giuen them: Now to say one thing, and an other now, As best may serue their profitable endes.

Mar.

Ber-Ladie sound instructions to a Sonne.

Ual.

Nay Sir, he makes his claime by debt of friendship.

Gost.

Tush, Friendship's but a Terme boy: the fond world Like to a doting Mother glases ouer Her Childrens imperfections with fine tearmes: What she calls Frindship and true humane kindnes, Is onely want of true Experience: Honestie is but a defect of Witt, Respect but meere Rusticitie and Clownerie.

Mar.

Better and better. Soft, here comes my Sonne.

Enter Fortunion, Rinaldo, and Gratiana.

Rin.

Fortunio, keepe your countenance: See sir here The poore young married couple, which you pleasd To send for to your house.

Gost.

Fortunio welcome, And in that welcome I imploy your wiues, Who I am sure you count your second selfe.

He kisses her.

For.

Sir, your right noble fauours do exceede All powre of worthy gratitude by words, That in your care supplie my Fathers place.

Gost.

Fortunio, I can not chuse but loue you, Being Sonne to him who long time I haue lou'd: From whose iust anger, my house shall protect you, Till I haue made a calme way to your meetings.

For.

I little thought Sir, that my Fathers loue Would take so ill, so sleight a fault as this.

Gost.

Call you it sleight? Nay though his spirit take it In higher manner then for your lou'd sake, I would haue wisht him; yet I make a doubt, Had my Sonne done the like, if my affection Would not haue turnd to more spleene, then your Fathers: And yet I quallifie him, all I can, And doubt not but that time and my perswasion, Will worke out your excuse: since youth and loue Were th'vnresisted organies to seduce you: But you must giue him leaue, for Fathers must Be wonne by penitence and submission▪ And not by force or opposition.

For.

Ahlas Sir, what aduise you mee to doe? I know my Father to be highly moou'd, And am not able to endure the breath Of his exprest displeasure, whose hote flames I thi••ke my absence soonest would haue quencht.

Gost.

True Sir, as fire with oyle, or else like them That quench the sire with pulling downe the house, You shall remaine here in my house conceal'd Till I haue wonne your Father to conceiue Kinder opinion of your ouersight. Ualerio entertaine Fortunio And his 〈◊〉〈◊〉 〈◊〉〈◊〉, and giue them conduct in.

Val.

Y'are welcome sir.

Gost.

What 〈◊〉〈◊〉 〈◊〉〈◊〉 that all▪ No entertainment to the Gentlewoman?

Ual.

Forsooth y'are welcome by my Fathers leaue.

Gost.

What no more complement? Kisse her you sheepes-head, Why when? Go go Sir, call your Sister hither.

Exit Ual.

Ladie, youle pardon our grosse bringing vp? Wee dwell farre off from Court you may perceiue: The sight of such a blazing Starre as you, Dazles my rude Sonnes witts.

Grat.

Not so good Sir, The better husband, the more courtlie euer.

Rin.

In deed a Courtier makes his lipps go farre, As he doth all things else.

Enter U••lerio, Bell.

Gost.

Daughter reciue This Gentlewoman home, and vse her kindly.

She kisses her

Bell.

My Father bids you kindly welcome Lady, And therefore you must needes come well to mee.

Grat.

Thanke you for-soth.

Gost.

Goe Dame, conduct-am in.

Exeunt Rinaldo, Fortunio, Bell. Grat.

Ah errant Sheepes-head, hast thou liu'd thus long, And dar'st not looke a Woman in the face? Though I desire especially to see My Sonne a Husband, Shall I therefore haue him Turne absolute Cullion? Lets see, kisse thy hand. Thou kisse thy hand? thou wip'st thy mouth by th'masse. Fie on thee Clowne; They say the world's growne finer, But I for my p••rt, neuer saw Youngmen Worse fashin'd and brought vp then now adayes. Sfoote, when my selfe was young, was not I kept As farre from Court as you? I thinke I was: And ye•• my Father on a time inuited The Dutchesse of his hou••e; I be••ing then About some fiue and twentie yeares of age,

Was thought the onelie man to entertaine her: I had my Conge; plant my selfe of one legg, Draw backe the tother with a deepe fetcht honor: Then with a Bell regard aduant mine eye With boldnes on her verie visnomie. Your Dauncers all were counterfets to mee: And for discourse in my faire Mistresse presence, I did not as you barraine Gallants doe, Fill my discourses vp drinking Tobacco; But on the present furnisht euer more With tales and practisde speeches; as some times What ist a clocke? What stuff's this Petticoate? What cost the making? What the Frindge and all? And what she had vnder her Petticoate? And such like wittie complements: and for need, I could haue written as good Prose and Verse, As the most beggerlie Poet of am all, Either accrostique, Exordion, Epithalamious, S••••yres, Epigrams, Sonnets in Doozens, or your Quatorzanies, In any Rime Masculine, Feminine, Or Sdrnciolla, or cooplets, Blancke Verse, Y'are but bench-whistlers now a dayes to them That were in our times▪ well, about your Husbandrie, Go, for I'fayth th'art fit for nothing else.

Exit Val. prodit Mar.

Mar.

B••••-Ladie you haue plaide the Courtier rarelie.

Gost.

But did you euer see so blanck a Foole, When he should kisse a Wench, as my Sonne is?

Mar.

Ahlas tis but a little bashfulnes, You let him keepe no companie, nor allow him Monie to spend at Fence and Dauncing-scholes, Y'are too seueere y'faith.

Gost.

And you too supple. VVell Sir, for your sake I haue staide your Sonne From flying to the warres: now see you rate him, To staie him yet from more expencefull courses,

Wherein your lenitie will encourage him.

Mar.

Let me alone, I thank you for this kindnes.

Exeunt.

Enter Ualerio and Rinaldo.

Rin.

So, are they gone? Now tell me braue Ualerio Haue I not wonne the wreath from all your wits, Brought thee t'enioy the most desired presence Of thy deare loue at home? and with one labour My brother t'enioy thy sister, where It had beene her vndooing t'haue him seene, And make thy father craue what he abhorres: T'entreate my brother home t'enioy his daughter, Commaund thee kisse thy wench, chide for not kissing, And wo••ke all this out of a Macheuil▪ A miserable Politician? I thinke the like was neuer plaid before▪

Vale.

Indeede I must commend thy wit of force, And yet I know not whose deserues most praise Of thi••e, or my wit: thine for plotting well, Mi••, that durst vndertake and carrie it With such true forme.

Rin.

Well, th'euening crownes the daie, Perseuer to the end, my wit hath put Blinde Fortunne in a string into your hand, Vse it discreetlie, keepe it from your Father, Or you may bid all your good daies good night.

Ual.

Let me alone boy.

Rin.

Well sir, now to varie The pleasures o•• our wits, thou knowst Valerio Here is the new turnd Gentlemans faire wife, That keepes thy wife and sister companie; With whome the amorous Courtier Do••to Is far••e in loue, and of whome her sowre husband Is passing 〈◊〉〈◊〉, puts on Eagles eies To 〈◊〉〈◊〉 into her carriage. Shall wee see.

If he be now from home, and visite her.

Enter Gazetta sowing, Cornelio following.

See, see, the prisoner comes.

Ual.

But soft Sir, see Her ielous Iaylor followes at her heeles▪ Come, we will watch some fitter time to boord her, And in the meane time seeke out our mad crue. My spirit 〈◊〉〈◊〉 to swagger.

Rin.

Go•• too youth, walke not too boldly, if the Ser∣geants meete you; You may haue swaggering worke your bellie full.

Val.

No better Copesmates,

Gazetto s••s and singes sowing.

Ile go seeke im out with this light in my hand, The slaues grow proud with seeking out of vs.

Exeunt.

Cor.

A prettie worke, I pray what flowers are these▪

Gaze.

The Pancie this.

Cor.

O thats for louers thoughtes. Whats that, a Columbine?

Gaze.

No, that thankles Flower fitts not my Garden.

Cor.

Him? yet it may mine▪ This were a pretrie present for some friend, Some gallant Courtier, as for Doriotto, One that ado•• you in his soule I know.

Gaz.

Mee? why mee more then your selfe I pray▪

Cor.

O ye••, h•• adores you, and adhornes mee▪ Y faith deale plainelie, Doe not his kisses relish Much better then such Pessants as I am?

Gaz.

Whose kisses?

Cor.

Doriottoes; does he not? The thing you wot on?

Gaz.

What thing good Lord?

Cor.

Why Lady, lie with you?

Gaz.

Lie with mee?

Cor.

I with you.

Gaz.

You with mee indeed.

Cor.

Nay I am told that he lies with you too, And that he is the onely Whore-maister About the Cittie.

Gaz.

Yf he be so onely, Tis a good hearing that there are no more,

Cor.

Well Mistresse well, I will not be abusde, Thinke not you daunce in Netts; for though you do not Make brode profession of your loue to him, Y et do I vnderstand your darkest language, Your treads ath'toe, your secret iogges and wringes: Your enter course of glaunces: euery tittle Of your close Amorous rites I vnderstand, They speake as loud to mee, as if you said, My dearest Dariotto, I am thine.

Gaz.

Iesus what moodes are these? did euer Husband Follow his Wife with Ielosie so vniu••? That once I lou'd you, you your selfe will sweare. And if I did, where did you lose my Loue▪ In deed this strang•• and vndeserued vsage, Hath powre to shake a heart were nere so s••led: But I protest all your vnkindnes, neuer Had strength to make me wrong you, but in thought.

Cor.

No, not with Doriotto?

Gaz.

No by heauen.

Cor.

No Letters past, nor no designes for meeting?

Gaz.

No by my hope of heauen.

Cor.

Well, no time past, Goe goe; goe in and sow▪

Gaz.

Well, bee it so.

Exit Gaz.

Cor.

Suspition is (they say) the ••st degree Of deepest wisedome: and how euer others

••ygh against this mood of Ielousy, For my part I suppose it the best curb, To check the ranging appetites that raigne In this weake sexe: my neighbours poynt at me For this my ielousy; but should I doe As most of them doe; let my wife fly out To feasts and reuels, and in••te home Gallants, Play Menelaus, giue them time and place, While 〈◊〉〈◊〉 ••t like a well-taught wayting-woman, Turning h••r eyes vpon some worke or picture, Read in a Booke, or take a fayned nap, While her ••ind Lady takes one to her lap? No, let me still be poynted at, and thought A ielouse Asse, and not a wittally Knaue. I haue a shew of Courtyers haunt my house, In shew my friends, and ••or my profit too: But I perceiue vm, and will mock their aymes, With looking to their marke, I warrant vm: I am content to ride abroad with them, To reuell, dice, and fit their other sports; But by their leaues ile haue a vigilant eye To the mayne chaunce still. See my braue Comrades.

Enter Dariotto, Claudio and Valerio: Valerio putting vp his Sword.

Dar.

Well, wag, well, wilt thou still deceiue thy father, And being so simple a poore soule before him, Turne swaggerer in all companies besides?

Clau.

Hadst thou bin rested, all would haue come forth.

Val.

Soft, 〈◊〉〈◊〉, there lyes the poynt; I do not doubt, But t'haue my penny worths of these Rascals one day: Ile smoke the buzzing Hornets from their nests, Or else ile make their lether ••kins stay. The whorson hungry Horse-flyes; Foot, a man Cannot so soone, for want of Almanacks, Forget his day but three or foure bare moneths,

But strait he fees a sort of Corporals, To lye in Ambuscado to surprize him.

Dar.

Well, thou hadst happy fortune to escape v••.

Val.

But they thought 〈◊〉〈◊〉 was happier to scape me. I walking in the place, where mens law suites Are heard and pleaded, not so much as dreaming Of any such encounter, steps me forth Their va••ant fore-man, with the word, I rest you. I made no more adoe, but layd these pawes Close on his shoulders, tumbling him to earth; And there sate he on his posteriors, Like a Baboone; and turning me about, I 〈◊〉〈◊〉 ••pyed the whole troope issuing on me. I stept me backe, and drawing my olde friend heere, Made to the midst of them, and all vnable T'endure the shock, all rudely sell ••n rout, And downe the stayres they ranne with such a fury, As meeting with a troope o•• Lawyers there, Man'd by their Clyents: some with ten, some with twenty, Some fiue, some three; he that had least, had one: Vpon the stayres they bore them downe afore them: But such a rattling then was there amongst them Of 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Declarations, Replications, Reioynders and Petitions; all their bookes And writings torne and trod on, and ••ome lost, That the poore Lawyers comming to the Barre, Could say nought to the matter, but instead, Were fayne to rayle and talke besides their bookes Without all order.

Clau.

Fayth, that same vayne of rayling became Now most applausiue; your best Poct, is He that rayles gro••st.

Dar.

True, and your best foole Is your broad rayling foole.

Val.

And why not, sir? For by the gods, to tell the naked trueth,

What obiects see men in this world, but such As would yeeld matter to a rayling humour? When he that last yere ca••yed after one An empty Buckram bag, now fills a Coach, And crowds the Senate with such troops of Clyents, And seruile followers, as would put a mad spleene Into a Pigeon.

Dar.

Come, pray leaue these crosse capers, Let's make some better vse of precious time. See, here's Cornelio: come, Lad, shall we to dice?

Cor.

Any thing I.

Clau.

Well sayd, how does thy wife?

Cor.

In health, God saue her.

Val.

But where is she, man?

Cor.

Abroad about her businesse.

Val.

Why, not at home? Foot, my 〈◊〉〈◊〉, take her to the Court, And this rare Lad her husband: and doest heare? Play me no more the ••rable Farmer, But be a••de by friends, sell all ••h countrey, Be a flat Co••r, follow some great man, Or bring thy 〈◊〉〈◊〉 there, and sheele make thee great.

Cor.

What, to the Court? then take me for a Gull.

Val.

Nay, neuer shun it to be cald a Gull: For I see all the world is but a Gull: One man Gull to another in all kinds: A Marchant to a Courtyer is a Gull: A Clyent to a Lawyer is a Gull: A marryed man to a Bacheler, a Gull: A Bacheler to a Cuckold is a Gull: All to a Poct, or a Poct to himsel••e.

Cor.

Ha•• 〈◊〉〈◊〉, shall we gull this Guller?

Dar.

He gulls his father, man, we cannot gull him.

Cor.

Let me alone. Of all mens 〈◊〉〈◊〉 aliue, I most admyre Valerioes, that hath stolne, By his meere industry, and that by spurts,

Such qualities, as no wit else can match, With plodding at perfection euery houre; Which, if his father knew eche gift he has, Were like enough to make him giue all from him: I meane besides his dyeing and his wenching, He has stolne languages, th' Italian, Spanish, And some spice of the French, besides his dauncing, Singing, playing on choyce Instruments: These has he got, almost against the hayre.

Clau.

But hast thou stolne all these, Valerio?

Val.

Toyes, toyes, a pox; and yet they be such toyes, As euery Gentleman would not be without.

Cor.

Vayne glory makes yee iudge on lyte yfayth.

Dar.

A fore heauen I was much deceyu'd in him: But hee's the man indeed that hides his gifts, And sets them not to sale in euery presence. I would haue sworne, his soule were far from musike; And that all his choyce musike was to heare His fat beastes bellow.

Cor.

Sir, your ignorance Shall est soone be confuted. Prythee Val, Take thy Theorbo for my sake a little.

Val.

By heauen, this moneth I toucht not a Theorbo.

Cor.

Toucht a Theorbo? marke the very word. Sirra, goe fetch.

Exit Page.

Val.

If you will haue it, I must needs confesse, I am no husband of my qualityes.

He vntrusses and capers.

Cor.

See what a Caper there was!

Clau.

See agayne.

Cor.

The best that euer; and how it becomes him!

Dar.

O that his father saw these qualityes!

Enter a Page with an Instrument.

Cor.

Nay, that's the very wonder of his wit, To carry all without his fathers knowledge.

Dar.

Why, we might tell him now.

Cor.

No but we could not, Although we think we could: his wit doth charme vs. Come sweet Val, touch and sing.

Dar.

Foote, will you heare The worst voyce in Italy?

Enter Rinaldo.

Cor.

O God, sir. He sings. Courtiers, how like you this?

Dar.

Beleeue it excellent.

Cor.

Is it not naturall?

Val.

If my father heard me, Foot, hee'd renounce me for his naturall sonne.

Dar.

By heauen, Valerio, and I were thy father, And lou'd good qualities as I doe my life, Ide disinherit thee: for I neuer heard Dog howle with worse grace.

Cor.

Go to, Signeur Courtier, You deale not courtly now to be so playne, Nor nobly, to discourage a young Gentleman, In vertuous qualityes, that has but stolne vm.

Clau.

Call you this touching a Theorbo? Omn. ha, ha, ha.

Exeunt all but Val. and Rin.

Val.

How now, what's heere?

Rin.

Zoones, a plot layd to gull thee. Could thy wit thinke the voyce was worth the hearing? This was the Courtiers and the Cuckolds proiect.

Val.

And ist ••ene so? tis very well, mast Courtier, & Dan Cornuto, ile cry quit with both: And first, ile cast a iarre betwixt them both, with firing the poore cuckolds ielousy.

I haue a tale will make him madde, And turne his wife diuorced loose amongst vs▪ But first let's home, and entertayne my wife. O father, pardon, I was borne to gull thee.

Exeunt.

Finis Actus secundi.