Fifty comedies and tragedies written by Francis Beaumont and John Fletcher, Gentlemen ; all in one volume, published by the authors original copies, the songs to each play being added.

Scaena Secunda.

Enter Antonio and Martine.

Ant.

Their swords, alass, I weigh 'em not (dear Friend) The indiscretion of the Owners blunts 'em; The fury of the House affrights not me, It spends it self in words: (Oh me Martine) There was a two edg'd eye, a Lady carried A weapon that no valor can avoyd, Nor Art (the hand of Spirit) put aside. O Friend, it broke out on me like a bullet Wrapt in a cloud of fire: that point (Martine) Dazled my sence? and was too subtle for me, Shot like a Comet in my face, and wounded (To my eternal ruine, my hearts valor.

Mar.

Methinks she was no such piece.

Ant.

Blaspheme not Sir, She is so far beyond weak commendation,

That impudence will blush to think ill of her.

Mar.

I see it not, and yet I have both eyes open: And I could judge, I know there is no beauty Till our eyes give it 'em, and make 'em handsome; What's red and white, unless we do allow 'em? A green face else; and me-thinks such an other.

Ant.

Peace thou leud Heretick; Thou judge of beauties? Thou hast an excellent sense for a sign-post (Friend) Dost thou not see? I'll swear thou art soon blind else, As blind as ignorance; when she appeared first Aurora breaking in the east, and through her face, As if the hours and graces had strew'd Roses, A blush of wonder flying; when she was frighted At our uncivil swords, didst thou not mark How far beyond the purity of snow The soft wind drives whiteness of innocence, Or any thing that bears Celestial paleness, She appear'd o'th' sodain? Didst thou not see her tears When she intreated? O thou Reprobate! Didst thou not see those orient tears flow'd from her, The little Worlds of Love? A set (Martine) Of such sanctified Beads, and a holy heart to love I could live ever a Religious Hermite.

Mer.

I do believe a little, and yet methinks She was of the lowest stature.

Ant.

A rich Diamond Set neat and deep, Natures chief Art (Martine) Is to reserve her Models curious, Not cumbersome and great; and such an one For fear she should exceed, upon her matter Has she fram'd this; Oh 'tis a spark of beauty, And where they appear so excellent in little, They will but flame in great; Extention spoils 'em: Martine learn this, the narrower that our eyes Keep way unto our object, still the sweeter That comes unto us: Great bodies are like Countries, Discovering still, toyl and no pleasure finds 'em.

Mar.

A rare Cosmographer for a small Island, Now I believe she is handsome.

Ant.

Believe heartily, Let thy belief, though long a coming, save thee.

Mar.

She was (certain) fair.

Ant.

But heark ye (friend Martine) Do not believe your self too far before me, For then you may wrong me, Sir.

Mar.

Who bid ye teach me? Do you show me meat, and stitch my lips (Antonio?) Is that fair play?

Ant.

Now if thou shouldst abuse me, And yet I know thee for an errant wencher, A most immoderate thing, thou canst not love long.

Mar.

A little serves my turn, I fly at all games, But I believe.

Ant.

How if we never see her more? She is our enemy.

Mar.

Why are you jealous then? As far as I conceive she hates our whole House.

Ant.

Yet (good Martine)

Mar.

Come, come, I have mercy on ye: You shall enjoy her in your dream (Antonio) And I'll not hinder: though now I perswade my self.

Enter Aminta with a Letter.

Ant.

Sit with perswasion down, and you deal honestly: I will look better on her.

Mar.

Stay, who's this, Friend?

Ant.

Is't not the other Gentlewoman?

Mar.

Yes, a Letter. She brings to challenge sure: if she do (Antonio) I hope she'll be a Second too; I am for her.

Am.

A good hour Gentlemen.

Ant.

You are welcome Lady; 'Tis like our late rude passage has powr'd on us Some reprehension.

Am.

No I bring no anger, Though some deserv'd it.

Ant.

Sure we were all to blame, Lady; But for my part (in all humility And with no little shame) I ask your pardons, Indeed I wear no sword to fright sweet beauties.

Am.

You have it, and this Letter; pray ye Sir view it, And my Commission's done.

Mar.

Have ye none for me Lady?

Am.

Not at this time.

Mar.

I am sorry for't; I can read too.

Am.

I am glad: but Sir, to keep you in your exercise, You may chance meet with one ill written.

Mar.

Thank ye, So it be a womans; I can pick the meaning, For likely they have but one end.

Am.

You say true Sir.

Exit.

Ant.

Martine, my wishes are come home and loaden, Loaden with brave return: most happy, happy: I am a blessed man: where's the Gentlewoman?

Mar.

Gone, the spirit's gone, what news?

Ant.

'Tis from the Lady; From her we saw: from that same miracle, I know her name now: read but these three lines; Read with devotion, friend, the lines are holy.

Martine reads.

I dare not chide ye in my Letter, (Sir) 'Twill be too gentle: If you please to look me In the West-street, and find a fair Stone window, Carved with white Cupids; there I'll entertain ye: Night and discretion guide ye.

Call me Ismena.

Ant.

Give it me again: Come, come, fly, fly, I am all fire.

Mar.

There may be danger.

Ant.

So there is to drink When men are thirsty, to eat hastily When we are hungry: so there is in sleep, Friend, Obstructions then may rise and smother us, We may dye laughing, choak'd even at devotions: An Apoplexie, or a sodain Palsey May strike us down.

Mar.

May be a train to catch ye.

Ant.

Then I am caught: and let Love answer for it. 'Tis not my folly, but his infamy, And if he be ador'd, and dare do vild things.—

Mar.

Well, I will go.

Ant.

She is a Lady, Sir, A Maid, I think, and where that holy spell Is flung about me, I ne're fear a villany, 'Tis almost night: away friend.

Mar.

I am ready, I think I know the house too.

Ant.

Then are we happy.

Exeunt.