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 Quarta.

Enter Isabella, and Penurio with a Light.

Isab.

Was't thou with Rugio?

Pen.

Yes marry was I closely.

Isab.

And does he still remember his poor Mistriss? Does he desire to see me?

Pen.

Yes, and presently: Puts off all business else, lives in that memory, And will be here according to directions,

Isab.

But where's thy Master?

Pen.

Where a coxcomb should be, Waiting at Court with his Jewels, Safe for this night I warrant ye.

Isab.

I am bound to thee.

Pen.

I would ye were, as close as I could tye ye,

Isab.

Thou art my best, my truest friend.

Pen.

I labour I moil and toil for ye: I am your hackney.

Isab.

If ever I be able—

Pen.

Steal the great Cheese Mistriss, Was sent him out o'th' Countrey.

Isab.

Any thing.

Pen.

That's meat, 'tis lawful Mistriss: where's the Castle Custard. He got at Court?

Isab.

He has lock'd it in's study.

Pen.

Get a warrant to search for counterfeit Gold.

Isab.

Give me thy Candle, I'll find a time to be thy careful Cater.

Pen.

And many a time I'll find to be his Cook, And dress his Calves head to the sweetest sauce Mistriss.

Isab.

To bed Penurio, go, the rest is my charge, I'll keep the Watch out.

Pen.

Now if you spare him—

Exit.

Isab.

Peace fool, I hope my Rugio will not fail, 'twould vex me: Now to my string; so, sure he cannot miss now, And this end to my finger I'll lie down, For on a suddain I am wondrous heavy, 'Tis very late too; if he come and find this, And pull it, though it be with easie motion I shall soon waken, and as soon be with him.

Enter Lopez.

Lop.

Thou secret friend, how am I bound to love thee And how to hug thee for thy private service? Thou art the Star all my suspitions sail by, The fixed point my wronged honor turns to, By thee I shall know all, find all the subtilties Of devilish women, that torment me daily: Thou art my Conjurer, my Spell, my Spirit, All's hush'd and still, no sound of any stirring, No tread of living thing: the Light is in still, And there's my Wife, how prettily the fool lies, How sweet, and handsomely, and in her clothes too, Waiting for me upon my life; her fondness Would not admit her rest till I came to her: O careful fool, why am I angry with thee? Why do I think thou hat'st thy loving Husband? I am an Ass, an over-doting Coxcomb, And this sweet soul, the mirror of perfection: How admirable fair and delicate, And how it stirs me, I'll sing thy sweets a Requiem, But will not waken thee.

SONG.

OH fair sweet face, oh eyes celestial bright, Twin Stars in Heaven, that now adorn the night; Oh fruitful Lips, where Cherries ever grow, And Damask cheeks, where all sweet beauties blow; Oh thou from head to foot divinely fair, Cupid's most cunning Nets made of that hair,

And as he weaves himself for curious eyes; Oh me, Oh me, I am caught my self, he cries: Sweet test about thee sweet and golden sleep, Soft peaceful thoughts, your hourly watches keep, Whilst I in wonder sing this sacrifice, To beauty sacred, and those Angel-eyes.

Now will I steal a kiss, a dear kiss from her, And suck the Rosie breath of this bright beauty; What a Devil is this? ty'd to her finger too? A string, a damned string to give intelligence Oh my lov'd key, how truly hast thou serv'd me; I•• follow this: soft, soft, to th' door it goes, And through to th' other side; a damned string 'tis, I am abus'd, topt, cuckolded, fool'd, jaded, Ridden to death, to madness; stay, this helps not: Stay, stay, and now invention help me, I'll sit down by her, take this from her easily, And thus upon mine own: Dog, I shall catch ye, With all your cunning, Sir: I shall light on ye, I felt it pull sure: yes, but wondrous softly, 'Tis there again, and harder now, have at ye, Now and thou scap'st, the Devil's thy ghostly father.

Exit.

Isab.

Sure 'twas my husband's voice, the string is gone too, He has found the trick on't: I am undone, betray'd, And if he meet my friend he perishes, What fortune follows me, what spightful fortune? Hoa Jaquenet.

Enter Jaquenet,

Jaq.

Here Mistriss, do you call me?

Isab.

Didst thou hear no noise?

Jaq.

I hear my Master mad yonder, And swears, and chafes—

Isab.

Dar'st thou do one thing for me? One thing concerns mine honor, all is lost else?

Jaq.

Name what you will.

Isab.

It can bring but a beating, Which I will recompence so largely—

Jaq.

Name it.

Isab.

Sit here, as if thou wert asleep.

Jaq.

Is that all?

Isab.

When he comes in, whate'er he do unto thee (The worst will be but beating) speak not a word, Not one word as thou lovest me.

Jaq.

I'll run through it.

Isab.

I'll carry away the Candle.

Exit.

Jaq.

And I the blows Mistriss.

Enter Lopez.

Lap.

Have you put your light out? I shall stumble to ye, You whore, you cunning whore, I shall catch your rogue too, H'as light legs else, I had so Ferret-claw'd him: Oh have I found ye? do ye play at dog-sleep still whore? Do you think that can protect ye? yes, I will kill thee, But first I'll bring thy friends to view thy villanies, Thy whorish villanies: and first I'll beat thee, Beat thee to pin-dust, thou falt whore, thou varlet, Scratch out thine eyes; I'll spoil your tempting visage; Are ye so patient? I'll put my nails in deeper, Is it good whoring? whoring ye base rascal? Is it good tempting men with strings to ride ye? So, I'll fetch your kindred, and your friends, whore, And such a Justice I will act upon thee.

Exit.

Enter Isabella.

Isab.

What is he gone?

Jaq.

The Devil go with him Mistriss, Has harrowed me, plough'd Land was ne'r so harrow'd: I had the most adoe to save mine eyes.

Isab.

Has paid thee, ••••t I'll heal all again with good Gold. Jaquenet; H'as damned nails.

Jaq.

They are ten-penny nails I think Mistriss: I'll undertake he shall strike 'em through an inch board.

Isab.

Go up, and wash thy self: take my Pomatum, And now let me alone to end the Tragedy.

Jaq.

You had best beware.

Isab.

I shall deal stoutly with him, Reach me my Book, and see the door made fast wench, And so good night: now to the matter politick.

Lopez knocks within.

Lop. Within.

You shall see what she is, what a sweet jewel.

Isab.

Who's there, what mad-man knocks? is this an hour And in mine Husband's absence?

Lop. Within.

Will ye open? You know my voice ye whore, I am that Husband: Do you mark her subtilty? but I have paid her, I have so ferk'd her face: here's the blood Gentlemen, Ecce signum: I have spoil'd her Goatish beauty, Observe her how she looks now, how she is painted, Oh 'tis the most wicked'st whore, and the most treacherous—

Enter Lopez, Bartello, Gent. and two Gentlewomen.

Gent.

Here walks my cosin full of meditation, Arm'd with religious thoughts.

Bar.

Is this the monster?

1 Gentlew.

Is this the subject of that rage you talk'd of, That naughty woman you had pull'd a-pieces?

Bar.

Here's no such thing.

1 Gentlew.

How have ye wrong'd this beauty? Are not you mad my friend? what time o' th' moon is't? Have not you Maggots in your brains?

Lop.

'Tis she sure.

Gent.

Where's the scratch'd face ye spoke of, the torn garments, And all the hair pluck'd off her head?

Bar.

Believe me. 'Twere better far you had lost your pair of pibbles, Than she the least adornment of that sweetness.

Lop.

Is not this blood?

1 Gentlew.

This is a monstrous folly, A base abuse.

Isab.

Thus he does ever use me, And sticks me up a wonder, not a woman, Nothing I doe, but's subject to suspition; Nothing I can do, able to content him.

Bar.

Lopez, you must not use this.

2 Gentlew.

'Twere not amiss, Sir. To give ye sauce to your meat, and suddainly.

1 Gentlew.

You that dare wrong a woman of her goodness, Thou have a Wife, thou have a Bear ty'd to thee, To scratch thy jealous itch, were all o' my mind, I mean all women, we would disburthen ye Of that that breeds these fits, these dog-flaws in ye, A Sow-guelder should trim ye.

Bar.

A rare cure Lady, And one as fit for him as a Thief for a halter, You see this youth: will you not cry him quittance, Body 'me, I would pine, but I would pepper him, I'll come anon, he, hang him, poor pompillion: How like a wench bepist he looks, I'll come Lady; Lopez, The Law must teach ye what a wife is, A good, a virtuous wife.

Isab.

I'll ne'r live with him, I crave your loves all to make known my cause, That so a fair Divorce may pass between us, I am weary of my life: in danger hourly.

Bar.

You see how rude you are, I will not miss ye, Unsufferable rude: I'll pay him soundly, You should be whipt in Bedlam: I'll reward him.

2 Gentlew.

Whipping's too good.

Lop.

I think I am alive still, And in my wits.

Bar.

I'll put a trick upon him, And get his goods confiscate: you shall have 'em;

I will not fail at nine.

Lop.

I think I am here too, And once I would have sworn I had taken her napping, I think my name is Lopez.

Gent.

Fie for shame, Sir, You see you have abus'd her, fouly wrong'd her, Hung scandalous and course opinions on her, Which now you find but children of suspition: Ask her forgiveness, shew a penitence, She is my kinswoman, and what she suffers Under so base and beastly jealousies, I will redres•• else, I'll seek satisfaction.

Bar.

Why, every boy i'th' Town will piss upon thee.

Lop.

I am sorry for't.

1 Gentlew.

Down o' your marrow-bones.

Lop.

Even sorry from my heart: forgive me sweet wife, Here I confess most freely I have wrong'd ye, As freely here I beg a pardon of ye, From this hour no debate, no cross suspition—

Isab.

To shew ye Sir I understand a wives part, Thus I assure my love, and seal your pardon.

2 Gentlew.

'Tis well done, now to bed, and there confirm it.

Gent.

And so good night.

Bar.

Aware relapses,, Lopez.

Exeunt.

Lop.

Now Isabella tell me truth, and suddainly, And do not juggle with me, nor dissemble, For as I have a life ye dye then: I am not mad, Nor does the Devil work upon my weakness, Tell me the trick of this, and tell me freely.

Isab.

Will then that satisfie ye?

Lop.

If ye deal ingeniously.

Isab.

I'll tell ye all, and tell ye true and freely. Bartello was the end of all this jealousie, H••s o••ten visitations brought by you, first Bred all these fits, and these suspitions: I knew your false key, and accordingly I fram'd my plot, to have you take him finely, Too poor a pennance for the wrong his wife bears, His worthy virtuous wife: I felt it sensibly When ye took off the string, and was much pleas'd in't, Because I wish'd his importunate dotage paid well, And had you staid two minutes more, ye had had him.

Lop.

This sounds like truth.

Isab.

Because this shall be certain, Next time he comes, as long he cannot tarry, Your self shall see, and hear, his lewd temptations.

Lop.

Till then I am satisfied, and if this prove true, Hence-forward Mistriss of your self I give ye, And I to serve ye: For my lusty Captain, I'll make him dance, and make him think the Devil Claws at his breech, and yet I will not hurt him: Come now to bed, and prove but constant this way, I'll prove the man you ever wished.

Isab.

You have blest me.

Exeunt.