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.

Actus Primus.

Scaena Prima.

Enter Duke, Shamount, and four Gentlemen.

Duke.

SHamount, welcome; we have mist thee long, Though absent but two days: I hope your sports Answer your time and wishes.

Sham.

Very nobly Sir; We found game, worthy your delight my Lord, It was so royal.

Duke.

I've enough to hear on't. Prethee bestow't upon me in discourse.

1 Gent.

What is this Gentleman, Coz? you are a Courtier, Therefore know all their insides.

2 Gent.

No farther than the Tassaty goes, good Coz. For the most part, which is indeed the best part Of the most general inside; marry thus far I can with boldness speak this one mans character, And upon honor, pass it for a true one; He has that strength of manly merit in him, That it exceeds his Sovereigns power of gracing; He's faithfully true to valour, that he hates The man from Caesar's time, or farther off, That ever took disgrace unreveng'd: And if he chance to read his abject story, He tears his memory out; and holds it virtuous, Not to let shame have so much life amongst us; There is not such a curious piece of courage

Amongst mans fellowship, or one so jealous Of honors loss, or repuations glory: There's so much perfect of his growing story.

1 Gent.

'Twould make one dote on virtue as you tell it.

2 Gent.

I have told it to much loss, believe it Coz.

3 Gent.

How the Duke graces him? what is he brother?

4 Gent.

Do you not yet know him? a vain-glorious coxcomb, As proud as he that fell for't: Set but aside his valour; no virtue; Which is indeed, not fit for any Courtier; And we his fellows are as good as he, Perhaps as capable of favour too, For one thing or another, if 'twere look'd into: Give me a man, were I a Sovereign now Has a good stroke of Tennis, and a stiff one, Can play at AEquinoctium with the Line, As even, as the thirteenth of September, When day and night lie in a scale together: Or may I thrive, as I deserve at Billiards; No otherwise at Chesse, or at Primero: These are the parts requir'd, why not advanc'd?

Duke.

Trust me, it was no less than excellent pleasure, And I'm right glad 'twas thine. How fares our kinsman? Who can resolve us best?

1 Gent.

I can my Lord.

Duke.

There, if I had a pity without bounds, It might be all bestowed—A man so lost In the wild ways of passion, that he's sensible Of nought, but what torments him?

1 Gent.

True my Lord, He runs through all the Passions of mankind, And shifts 'em strangely too: one while in love, And that so violent, that for want of business, He'll court the very Prentice of a Laundress, Though she have kib'd heels: and in's melancholly agen, He will not brook an Empress though thrice fairer Than ever Maud was; or higher spirited Than Cleopatra, or your English Countess: Then on a suddain he's so merry again, Out laughs a Waiting-woman before her first Child: And turning of a hand, so angry— Has almost beat the Northern fellow blind; That is for that use only; if that mood hold my Lord, Had need of a fresh man; I'll undertake, He shall bruise three a month.

Duke.

I pity him dearly: And let it be your charge, with his kind brother To see his moods observ'd; let every passion Be fed ev'n to a surfet, which in time May breed a loathing: let him have enough Of every object, that his sence is wrapt with; And being once glutted, then the taste of folly Will come into his rellish.

Exit.

1 Gent.

I shall see Your charge my Lord, most faithfuly effected: And how does noble Shamount?

Sham.

Never ill man Until I hear of baseness, then I sicken: I am the healthfull'st man i'th' kingdom else.

Enter Lapet.

1 Gent.

Be arm'd then for a fit, Here comes a fellow Will make you sick at heart, if baseness do't.

Sha.

Let me be gone: what is he?

1 Gent.

Let me tell you first, It can be but a qualm: pray stay it out Sir, Come, y'ave born more than this.

Sha.

Born? never any thing That was injurious.

2 Gent.

Ha, I am far from that.

Sham.

He looks as like a man as I have seen one: What would you speak of him? speak well I prethee, Even for humanities cause.

1 Gent.

You'd have it truth though?

Sham.

What else Sir? I have no reason to wrong heav'n To favour nature; let her bear her own shame If she be faulty.

1 Gent.

Monstrous faulty there Sir.

Sham.

I'm ill at ease already.

1 Gent.

Pray bear up Sir.

Sham.

I prethee let me take him down with speed then; Like a wild object that I would not look upon.

1 Gent.

Then thus: he's one that will endure as much As can be laid upon him.

Sham.

That may be noble: I'm kept too long from his acquaintance.

1 Gent.

Oh Sir, Take heed of rash repentance, y'are too forward To find out virtue where it never setl'd: Take the particulars first, of what he endures; Videlicet, Bastinadoes by the great.

Sham.

How!

1 Gent.

Thumps by the dozen, and your kicks by wholesale.

Sham.

No more of him.

1 Gent.

The twinges by the nostril he snuffs up, And holds it the best remedy for sneezing.

Sham.

Away.

1 Gent.

H'as been thrice switch'd from 7 a clock till 9. Yet with a Cart-Horse stomach, fell to breakfast; Forgetful of his smart.

Sham.

Nay, the disgrace on't; There's no smart but that: base things are felt More by their shames than hurts, Sir. I know you not. But that you live an injury to nature: I'm heartily angry with you.

Lap.

Pray give your blow or kick and begone then: For I ne'er saw you before; and indeed, Have nothing to say to you, for I know you not.

Sham.

Why wouldst thou take a blow?

Lap.

I would not Sir, Unless 'twere offer'd me; and if from an enemy? I'd be loth to deny it from a stranger.

Sham.

What, a blow? Endure a blow? and shall he live that gives it?

Lap.

Many a fair year—why not Sir?

Sham.

Let me wonder! As full a man to see to, and as perfect— I prethee live not long—

Lap.

How?

Sham.

Let me intreat it: Thou dost not know what wrong thou dost mankind, To walk so long here; not to dye betimes. Let me advise thee, while thou hast to live here, Ev'n for man's honour sake, take not a blow more.

Lap.

You should advise them not to strike me then Sir, For I'll take none I assure you, 'less they are given.

Sham.

How fain would I preserve mans form from shame And cannot get it done? however Sir, I charge thee live not long.

Lap.

This is worse than beating.

Sham.

Of what profession art thou, tell me Sir, Besides a Tailor? for I'll know the truth.

Lap.

A Tailor? I'm as good a Gentleman— Can shew my Arms and all,

Sham.

How black and blew they are? Is that your manifestation? upon pain Of pounding thee to dust, assume not wrongfully The name of Gentleman, because I'm one, That must not let thee live.

Lap.

I have done, I have done Sir. If there be any harm, beshrew the Herald, I'm sure I ha' not been so long a Gentleman, To make this anger: I have nothing no where, But what I dearly pay for.

Exit.

Sham.

Groom begone; I never was so heart-sick yet of man.

Enter Lady, the Duke's Sister, Lapet's wife.

1 Gent.

Here comes a cordial, Sir, from th'other sex, Able to make a dying face look chearful.

Sham.

The blessedness of Ladies —

Lady.

Y'are well met Sir.

Sham.

The sight of you has put an evil from me, Whose breath was able to make virtue sicken,

Lady.

I'm glad I came so fortunately. What was't Sir?

Sham.

A thing that takes a blow, lives, and eats after it, In very good health; you ha' not seen the like, Madam, A Monster worth your sixpence, lovely worth, Speak low Sir; by all likely-hoods 'tis her Husband, 〈◊〉〈◊〉, That now bestow'd a visitation on me. Farewel Sir.

Exit.

Sham.

Husband? is't possible that he has a wise? Would any creature have him? 'tis some forc'd match, If he were not kick'd to th'Church o' th'wedding day, I'll never come at Court. Can be no otherwise: Perhaps he was rich, speak mistriss Lapet, was't not so?

Wife.

Nay, that's without all question.

Sh.

O ho, he would not want kickers enow then; If you are wise, I much suspect your honesty; For wisdom never fastens constantly, But upon merit: if you incline to fool, You are alike unfit for his society; Nay, if it were not boldness in the man That honors you, to advise you, troth his company Should not be frequent with you.

Wife.

'Tis good counsel Sir.

Sham.

Oh, I am so careful where I reverence, So just to goodness, and her precious purity, I'm as equally jealous, and as fearful, That any undeserved stain might fall Upon her sanctified whiteness, as of the sin That comes by wilfulness.

Wife.

Sir, I love your thoughts, And honor you for your counsel and your care.

Sham.

We are your servants.

Wife.

He's but a Gentleman o'th' chamber; he might have kist me: Faith, where shall one find less courtesie, than at Court? Say I have an undeserver to my Husband: That's ne'er the worse for him: well strange lip'd men, 'Tis but a kiss lost, there'll more come agen.

Exit,

Enter the passionate Lord, the Dukes kinsman, makes a congie or two to nothing.

1 Gent.

Look, who comes here Sir, his love-fit's upon him: I know it, by that sett smile, and those congies. How courteous he's to nothing? which indeed, Is the next kin to woman; only shadow The elder Sister of the twain, because 'tis seen too. See how it kisses the fore-finger still; Which is the last edition, and being come So near the thumb, every Cobler has got it.

Sham.

What a ridiculous piece, humanity Here makes it self?

1 Gent.

Nay good give leave a little, Sir, Y'are so precise a manhood—

Sham.

It afflicts me When I behold unseemliness in an Image So near the Godhead, 'tis an injury To glorious Eternity.

1 Gent.

Pray use patience, Sir.

Pas.

I do confess it freely, precious Lady, And loves suit is so, the longer it hangs The worse it is; better cut off, sweet Madam; Oh, that same drawing in your neather Lip there, Fore shews no goodness, Lady; make you question on't? Shame on me, but I love you.

1 Gent.

Who is't Sir, You are at all this pains for? may I know her?

Pas.

For thee thou fairest, yet the falsest woman, That ever broke man's heart-strings.

1 Gent.

How? how's this Sir?

Pas.

What the old trick of Ladies? man's apparel, Will't ne'er be left amongst you? steal from Court in't?

1 Gent.

I see the Fit grows stronger.

Pas.

Pray le••'•• talk a little.

Sham.

I can endure no more.

1 Gent.

Good, let's alone a little: You are so exa•••• a work: love light things somewhat, Sir.

Sham.

Th'a••e 〈◊〉〈◊〉 but shames.

1 Gent.

What 〈◊〉〈◊〉 yo••'d say to me, Sir?

Pas.

Can you 〈◊〉〈◊〉 ••orgetful to enquire it Lady?

1 Gent.

Yes truely, Sir.

Pas.

The more I admire your slintiness: What cause have I given you, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Madam, To play this strange part with 〈◊〉〈◊〉

1 Gent.

Cause enough, Do but look back Sir, into your memory, Your love to other women, oh lewd man: 'Tas almost kill'd my heart, you see I'm chang'd with it, I ha' lost the fashion of my Sex with grief on t, When I have seen you courting of a Dowdie; Compar'd with me, and kissing your fore-finger To one o'th' Black-Guards Mistresses: would not this Crack a poor Ladies heart, that believ'd love, And waited for the comfort? but 'twas said, Sir, A Lady of my hair cannot want pittying: The Countrey's coming up, farewel to you Sir.

Pas.

Whither intend you, Sir?

1 Gent.

A long journey, Sir: The truth is, I'm with child, and goe to travel.

Pas.

With child? I never got it.

1 Gent.

I heard you were busie At the same time, Sir, and was loth to trouble you.

Pas.

Why, are not you a whore then, excellent Madam?

1 Gent.

Oh by no means, 'twas done Sir in the state Of my belief in you, and that quits me; It lies upon your falshood.

Pas.

Does it so? You shall not carry her though Sir, she's my contract.

Sham.

I prethee, thou four Elements ill brued, Torment none but thy self; away I say Thou beast of passion, as the drunkard is The beast of Wine; dishonor to thy making, Thou man in fragments.

Pas.

Hear me, precious Madam.

Sham.

Kn••••l for thy wits to Heaven.

Pas.

Lady, I'll father it, Who e'er begot it: 'tis the course of greatness.

Sham.

How virtue groans at this?

Pas.

I'll raise the Court, but I'll stay your flight.

Sham.

How wretched is that piece?

Ex. Pas. Lord.

1 Gent.

He's the Dukes kinsman, Si••.

Sham.

That cannot take a passion away, Sir, Nor cut a Fit, but one poor hour shorter, He must endure as much as the poorest begger, That cannot change his money; there's th' equality In our impartial Essence: What's the news now?

Enter a Servant.

Ser.

Your worthy brother, Sir, 'has left his charge, And come to see you.

Enter Shamount's brother, a Soldier.

Sham.

Oh the noblest welcome That ever came from man, meet thy deservings: Methinks I've all joyes treasure in mine arms now,

Sold.

You are so fortunate in prevention, brother, You always leave the answerer barren, Sir, You comprehend in few words so much worth—

Sham.

'Tis all too little for thee: come th'art welcome So I include all: take especial knowledge pray, Of this dear Gentleman, my absolute friend, That loves a Soldier far above a Mistriss, Thou excellently faithful to 'em both. But love to manhood, owns the purer troth.

Exeunt.