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.

NICE VALOUR. A Comedy.

The Persons represented in the Play.

• Duke of Genoua.
• Shamont his Favourite, a superstitious lover of repu∣tation.
• A passionate Lord, the Duke's distracted kinsman.
• A Soldier, brother to Shamont.
• Lapet, the cowardly Monsieur of Nice Valour.
• A Gallant of the same Temper.
• ...
  Two Mushroom Courtiers.
  • Pultrot,
  • Mombazon,
• Two Brothers to the Lady, affecting the passionate Lord
• Four Courtiers.
• Jester.
• ...
  In a Masque.
  • A Priest,
  • Six Women,
• Galoshio, a Clown, such another try'd piece of Man's flesh.
• ...
  WOMEN.
  • Lady, Sister to the Duke, Shamont's beloved.
  • Lapet's Wife.
  • A Lady, personating Cupid, Mistriss to the mad Lord.

The Scene Genoua.

The PROLOGUE at the reviving of this Play.

IT's grown in fashion of late in these days, To come and beg a suffrage to our Plays Faith Gentlemen, our Poet ever writ Language so good, mixt with such sprightly wit, He made the Theatre so Sovereign With his rare Scaenes, he scorn'd this crouching vein: We stabb'd him with keen daggers when we pray'd Him write a Preface to a Play well made. He could not write these toyes, 'twos easier far, To bring a Felon to appear at th' Barr So much he hated baseness; which this day, His Scaenes will best convince you of in's Play.

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.

Actus Secundus.

Scaena Prima.

Enter Shamont's brother, a Soldier and a Lady, the Dukes Sister.

Lady.

THere should be in this Gallery—oh th'are here, Pray sit down, believe me Sir, I'm weary.

Sold.

It well becomes a Lady to complain a little Of what she never feels: your walk was short, Madam, You can be but afraid of weariness; Which well employs the softness of your Sex, As for the thing it self, you never came to't.

La.

You're wond'rously well read in Ladies, Sir.

Sold.

Shall I think such a creature as you Madam, Was ever born to feel pain, but in Travel? There's your full portion, Besides a little tooth-ach in the breeding, Which a kind Husband too, takes from you, Madam.

La.

But where do Ladies, Sir, find such kind Husbands? Perhaps you have heard The Rheumatick story of some loving Chandler now, Or some such melting fellow that you talk So prodigal of mens kindness: I confess Sir, Many of those wives are happy, their ambition Does reach no higher, than to Love and Ignorance, Which makes an excellent Husband, and a fond one: Now Sir, your great ones aim at height, and cunning, And so are oft deceiv'd, yet they must venture it; For 'tis a Ladies contumely, Sir, To have a Lord an Ignorant; then the worlds voice Will deem her for a wanton, e'r she taste on't: But to deceive a wise man, to whose circumspection, The world resigns it self, with all his envy; 'Tis less dishonor to us, than to fall, Because his believ'd wisdom keeps out all.

Sold.

Would I were the man, Lady, that should venture His wisdom to your goodness.

La.

You might fail In the return, as many men have done, Sir: I dare not justifie what is to come of me, Because I know it not, though I hope virtuously; Marry what's past, or present, I durst put Into a good mans hand, which if he take Upon my word for good, it shall not cozen him.

Sol.

No, nor hereafter?

La.

It may hap so too, Sir: A womans goodness, when she is a wife, Lies much upon a mans desert, believe it Sir, If there be fault in her, I'll pawn my life on't, 'Tis first in him, if she were ever good, That makes one; knowing not a Husband yet, Or what he may be: I promise no more virtues, Than I may well perform, for that were cozenage.

Sol.

Happy were he that had you with all fears, That's my opinion, Lady.

Enter Shamount and a servant list'ning.

Serv.

What say you now, Sir? Dare you give confidence to your own eyes?

Sham.

Not yet I dare not.

Serv.

No?

Sham.

Scarce yet, or yet: Although I see 'tis he. Why can a thing, That's but my self divided, be so false?

Serv.

Nay, do but mark how the chair plays hie part too: How amoroesly 'tis bent.

Shvm.

Hell take thy bad thoughts, For they are strange ones. Never take delight To make a torment worse. Look on 'em heaven, For that's a brother: send me a fair enemy, And take him; for a fouler Fiend there breathes not: I will not sin to think there's ill in her, But what's of his producing. Yet goodness, whose inclosure is but flesh, Holds out oft times but sorrily. But as black Sir, As ever kindred was: I hate mine own bloud, Because is is so near thine. Live without honesty, And mayst thou dye with an unmoist'ned eye, And no tear follow thee.

Ex. Shamont, Servant.

La.

Y'are wond'rous merry Sir; I would your Brother heard you.

Sold.

Oh my Sister, I would not out o'th' way, let fall my words Lady, For the precisest humor.

Enter passionate Lord.

Pas.

Yea, so close.

Sold.

Th'are merry, that's the worst you can report on 'em: Th'are neither dangerous, nor immodest.

Pas.

So Sir, Shall I believe you, think you?

Sold.

Who's this, Lady?

La.

Oh the Dukes Cosin, he came late from travel, Sir.

Sold.

Respect belongs to him.

Pas.

For as I said, Lady, Th'are merry, that's the worst you can report of 'em: Th'are neither dangerous, nor immodest.

Sold.

How's this?

Pas.

And there I think I left.

Sold.

Abuses me.

Pas.

Now to proceed, Lady; perhaps I swore I lov'd you, If you believe me not, y'are much the wiser.

Sold.

He speaks still in my person, and derides me.

Pas.

For I can cog with you.

La.

You can all do so: We make no question of mens promptness that way.

Pas.

And smile, and wave a chair with comely grace too, Play with our Tastle gently, and do fine things, That catch a Lady sooner than a virtue.

Sold.

I never us'd to let man live so long That wrong'd me.

Pas.

Talk of Battalions, wooe you in a skirmish; Divine my mind to you Lady; and being sharp set, Can court you at Half pike: or name your weapon, We cannot fail you Lady.

Enter 1 Gentleman.

Sold.

Now he dies: Were all succeeding hopes stor'd up wichin him.

1 Gent.

Oh fie, i'th' Court, Sir?

Sold.

I most dearly thank you; Sir.

1 Gent.

'Tis rage ill spent upon a passionate mad man.

Sold.

That shall not priviledge him for ever, Sir: A mad man call you him? I have sound too much reason Sound in his injury to me, to believe him so.

1 Gent.

If ever truth from mans lips may be held In reputation with you, give this confidence; And this his Love-fit, which we observe still, By's flattering and his fineness: at some other time, He'll go as slovenly as heart can wish. The love and pity that his Highness shews to him, Makes every man the more respectful of him: Has never a passion, but is well provided for, As this of Love, he is full fed in all His swinge, as I may tearm it: have but patience, And ye shall witness somewhat.

Sold.

Still he mocks me: Look you, in action, in behaviour, Sir; Hold still the chair, with a grand mischief to you, Or I'll let so much strength upon your heart, Sir—

Pas.

I feel some power has restrain'd me Lady: If it be sent from Love, say, I obey it, And ever keep a voice to welcome it.

SONG.

THou Deity, swift winged Love, Sometimes below, sometimes above, Little in shape, but great in power, Thou that mak'st a heart thy Tower, And thy loop-holes Ladies eyes, From whence thou strik'st the fond and wise. Did all the Shafts in thy fair Quiver Stick fast in my ambitious Liver; Yet thy power would I adore. And call upon thee to shoot more, Shoot more, shoot more.

Enter one like a Cupid, offering to shoot at him.

Pas.

I prethee hold though, sweet Celestial boy; I'm not requited yet with love enough, For the first Arrow that I have within me; And if thou be an equal Archer Cupid, Shoot this Lady, and twenty more for me.

La.

Me Sir?

1 Gent.

'Tis nothing but device, fear it not Lady; You may be as good a Maid after that shaft, Madam, As e'er your mother was at twelve and a half: 'Tis like the boy that draws it, 'tas no sting yet.

Cup.

'Tis like the miserable Maid that draws it—

Aside.

That sees no comfort yet, seeing him so passionate,

Pas.

Strike me the Duchess of Valois in love with me, With all the speed thou canst, and two of her Women.

Cu.

You shall have more.

Exit.

Pas.

Tell 'em I tarry for 'em.

1 Gen.

Who would be angry with that walking trouble now? That hurts none but it self?

Sold.

I am better quieted.

Pas.

I'll have all women-kind struck in time for me After thirteen once: I see this Cupid will not let me want, And let him spend his forty shafts an hour, They shall be all found from the Dukes Exchequer; He's come already.

Enter again the same Cupid, two Brothers, six Wo∣men, Maskers, Cupid's Bow bent all the way to∣wards them, the first woman singing and playing, a Priest.

SONG.

OH turn thy bow, Thy power we feel and know, Fair Cupid turn away thy Bow: They be those golden Arrows, Bring Ladies all their sorrows, And till there be more truth in men, Never shoot at Maid agen.

Pas.

What a felicity of whores are here? And all my Concubines struck bleeding new: A man can in his life time, make but one woman, But he may make his fifty Queans a month.

Cu.

Have you remembred a Priest, honest brothers?

1 Bro.

Yes Sister, and this is the young Gentleman, Make you no question of our faithfulness.

2 Bro.

His growing shame, Sister, provokes our care:

Priest.

He must be taken in this fit of Love, Gentlemen.

1 Bro.

What else Sir, he shall do't.

2 Bro.

Enough.

1 Bro.

Be chearful wench.

A dance. Cupid leading.

Pas.

Now by the stroke of pleasure, a deep oath, Nimbly hopt Ladies all; what height they bear too? A story higher than your common statures; A little man must go up stairs to kiss 'em: What a great space there is Betwixt Loves Dining Chamber, and his Garret? I'll try the utmost height — the Garret stoops methinks; The rooms are made all bending, I see that, And not so high as a man takes 'em for.

Cu.

Now if you'll follow me Sir, I've that power, To make them follow you.

Pas.

Are they all shot?

Cu.

All, all Sir, every mothers daughter of 'em.

Pas.

Then there's no fear of following; if they be once shot They'll follow a man to th' devil—As for you, Sir—

Ex. with the Lady and the Masquers.

Sold.

Me Sir?

1 Gent.

Nay sweet Sir.

Sold.

A noise, a threatening, did you not hear it Sir?

1 Gent.

Without regard, Sir, so would I hear you

Sold.

This must come to something, never talk of that Sir. You never saw it otherwise.

1 Gent.

Nay dear merit—

Sold.

Me above all men?

1 Gent.

Troth you wrong your anger.

Sold.

I will be arm'd, my honourable Letcher.

1 Gent.

Oh fie sweet Sir.

Sold.

That devours womens honesties by lumps, And never chaw'st thy pleasure:

2 Gent.

What do you mean, Sir?

Sold.

What does he mean t'ingross all to himself? There's others love a whore as well as he Sir.

1 Gent.

Oh, if that be part o'th' fury, we have a City Is very well provided for that case; Let him alone with her, Sir, we have Women Are very charitable to proper men, And to a Soldier that has all his limbs; Marry the sick and lame gets not a penny: Right womens charity, and the Husbands follow't too: Here comes his Highness Sir.

Enter Duke and Lords.

Sold.

I'll walk to cool my self.

Exit.

Duke.

Who's that?

1 Gent.

The brother of Shamont.

Duke.

He's Brother then To all the Courts love, they that love discreetly, And place their friendliness upon desert: As for the rest, that with a double face Look upon merit much like fortunes visage, That looks two ways, both to life's calms and storms, I'll so provide for him, chiefly for him, He shall not wish their loves, nor dread their envies. And here comes my Shamont.

Enter Shamont.

Sham.

That Ladies virtues are my only joyes, And he to offer to lay siege to them?

Duke.

Shamont.

Sham.

Her goodness is my pride: in all discourses, As often as I hear rash tongu'd gallants, Speak rudely of a woman, presently I give in but her name, and th'are all silent: Oh who would loose this benefit?

Duke.

Come hither Sir.

Sham.

'Tis like the Gift of Healing, but Diviner; For that but cures diseases in the body, This works a cure on Fame, on Reputation: The noblest piece of Surgery upon earth.

Duke.

Shamont; he minds me not.

Sham.

A Brother do't?

Duke.

Shamont I say.

Gives him a touch with his switch.

Sham.

Ha? If he be mortal, by this hand he perishes;

Draws.

Unless it be a stroke from heaven, he dies for't.

Duke.

Why, how now Sir? 'twas I.

Sham.

The more's my misery.

Duke.

Why, what's the matter prethee?

Sham.

Can you ask it, Sir? No man else should; stood sorty lives before him, By this I would have op'd my way to him; It could not be you Sir, excuse him not, What e'er he be, as y'are dear to honor, That I may find my peace agen.

Duke.

Forbear I say, Upon my love to truth, 'twas none but I.

Sham.

Still miserable?

Duke.

Come, come, what ails you Sir?

Sham.

Never sate shame cooling so long upon me, Without a satisfaction in revenge, And heaven has made it here a sin to wish it.

Duke.

Hark you Sir?

Sham.

Oh y'ave undone me.

Duke.

How?

Sham.

Cruelly undone me; I have lost my peace and reputation by you: Sir, pardon me, I can never love you more.

Exit.

Duke.

What language call you this Sirs?

1 Gent.

Truth my Lord, I've seldom heard a stranger—

2 Gent.

He is a man of a most curious valour, Wondrous precise, and punctual in that virtue.

Duke.

But why to me so punctual? my last thought Was most intirely fixt on his advancement•• Why, I came now to put him in possession Of his fair fortunes: what a mis-conceiver 'tis? And from a Gentleman of our Chamber meerly, Made him Vice-Admiral: I was setled in't. I love him next to health: call him Gentlemen; Why would not you, or you, ha' taken as much, And never murmur'd?

Exit 1 Gent.

2 Gent.

Troth, I think we should, my Lord, And there's a follow walks about the Court, Would take a hundred of 'em.

Duke.

I hate you all for't., And rather praise his high pitch'd fortitude, Though in extreams for niceness: now I think on't, I would I had never done't—Now Sir, where is he?

Enter 1 Gentleman.

1 Gent.

His sute is only Sir, to be excus'd.

Duke.

He shall not be excus'd, I love him dearlier: Say we intreat him; goe, he must not leave us

Exit two Gentlemen.

So virtue bless me, I ne'er knew him paralell'd; Why, he's more precious to me now, than ever.

Enter two Gentlemen, and Shamont.

2 Gent.

With much fair language w'ave brought him?

Duke.

Thanks — Where is he?

2 Gent.

Yonder Sir.

Duke.

Come forward man.

Sham.

Pray pardon me, I'm asham'd to be seen Sir.

Duke.

Was ever such a touchie man heard of? Prethee come nearer.

Sham.

More into the light? Put not such cruelty into your requests my Lord, First to disgrace me publickly, and then draw me Into mens eye-sight, with the shame yet hot Upon my reputation.

Duke.

What disgrace, Sir?

Sham.

What? Such as there can be no forgiveness for, That I can find in honour.

Duke.

That's most strange, Sir.

Sham.

Yet I have search'd my bosom to find one, And wrestled with my inclination, But 'twill not be would you had kill'd me Sir. With what an ease had I forgiven you then? But to endure a stroke from any hand Under a punishing Angel, which is justice, Honor disclaim that man, for my part chiefly: Had it been yet the malice of your sword. Though it had cleft me, 't had been noble to me; You should have found my thanks paid in a smile If I had fell unworded; but to shame me, With the correction that your horse should have, Were you ten thousand times my royal Lord, I cannot love you never, nor desire to serve you more. If your drum call me, I am vowed to valour, But peace shall never know me yours agen, Because I've lost mine own, I speak to dye Sir; Would you were gracious that way to take off shame, With the same swiftness as you pour it on: And since it is not in the power of Monarchs To make a Gentleman, which is a substance Only begot of merit, they should be careful Not to destroy the worth of one so rare, Which neither they can make; nor lost, repair.

Exit.

Duke.

Y'ave set a fair light Sir before my judgement, Which burns with wondrous clearness; I acknowledge it, And your worth with it: but then Sir, my love, My love — what gone agen?

1 Gen.

And full of scorn, my Lord.

Duke.

That language will undoe the man that keeps it. Who knows no diff'rence, 'twixt contempt and manhood. Upon your love to goodness, Gentlemen, Let me not lose him long: how now?

Enter a Huntsman.

Hunts.

The game's at height my Lord.

Duke.

Confound both thee and it: hence break it off; He hates me, brings me news of any pleasure: I felt not such a conflict since I cou'd; Distinguish betwixt worthiness and bloud.

Ex.

Actus. Tertius.

Scaena Prima.

Enter the two Brothers, 1 Gentleman, with those that were the Masquers, and the Cupid.

1 Gent.

I Heartily commend your project, Gentlemen, 'Twas wise and virtuous.

1 Bro.

'Twas for the safety Of precious honour Sir, which near bloud binds us to: He promis'd the poor easie fool there, marriage, There was a good Maiden-head lost i'th' belief on't, Beshrew her hasty confidence.

1 Gent.

Oh no more, Sir, You make her weep agen; alas poor Cupid: Shall she not shift her self?

1 Bro.

Oh by no means Sir: We dare not have her seen yet, all the while

She keeps this shape, 'tis but thought device, And she may follow him so without suspition, To see if she can draw all his wild passions, To one point only, and that's love, the main point: So far his Highness grants, and gave at first, Large approbation to the quick conceit, Which then was quick indeed.

1 Gent.

You make her blush insooth.

1 Bro.

I fear 'tis more the flag of shame, than grace Sir.

1 Gent.

They both give but one kind of colour, Sir: If it be bashfulness in that kind taken, It is the same with grace; and there she weeps agen. In truth y'are too hard, much, much too bitter Sir, Unless you mean to have her weep her eyes out, To play a Cupid truly.

1 Bro.

Come ha' done then: We should all fear to sin first; for 'tis certain, When 'tis once lodg'd, though entertain'd in mirth, It must be wept out, if it e'er come forth.

1 Gent.

Now 'tis so well, I'll leave you.

1 Bro.

Faithfully welcome, Sir, Go Cupid to your charge; he's your own now; If he want love, none will be blam'd but you.

Cu.

The strangest marriage, and unfortunat'st Bride That ever humane memory contain'd; I cannot be my self for't.

Exit.

Enter the Clown.

Clow.

Oh Gentlemen?

1 Bro.

How now, Sir, what's the matter?

Clo.

His melancholly passion is half spent already, Then comes his angry fit at the very tail on't, Then comes in my pain, gentlemen; h'as beat me e'en to a Cullis. I am nothing; right worshipful, but very pap, And jelly: I have no bones, my body's all one business, They talk of ribs and chines most freely abroad i'th' world, Why, I have no such thing; who ever lives to see me dead, Gentlemen, shall find me all mummie good to fill Gallipots, And long dildo glasses: I shall not have a bone to throw At a dog.

Omnes.

Alas poor vassal; how he goes?

Clo.

Oh Gentlemen, I am unjoynted, do but think o' that: My breast is beat into my maw, that what I eat, I am fain to take't in all at mouth with spoons; A lamentable hearing; and 'tis well known, my belly Is driven into my back. I earn'd four Crowns a month most dearly Gentlemen, And one he must have when the fit's upon him, The Privy-purse allows it, and 'tis thriftiness, He would break else same forty pounds in Casements, And in five hundred years undo the Kingdom: I have cast it up to a quarrel.

1 Bro.

There's a fellow kickt about Court, I would He had his place, brother, but for one fit of his indignation.

2 Bro.

And suddainly I have thought upon a means for't.

1 Bro.

I prethee how?

2 Bro.

'Tis but preferring, Brother This stockfish to his service, with a Letter Of commendations, the same way he wishes it, And then you win his heart: for o' my knowledge He has laid wait this half year for a fellow That will be beaten, and with a safe conscience We may commend the carriage of this man in't; Now servants he has kept, lusty tall feeders, But they have beat him, and turn'd themselves away: Now one that would endure, is like to stay, And get good wages of him; and the service too Is ten times milder, Brother, I would not wish it else. I see the fellow has a sore crush'd body, And the more need he has to be kick'd at ease.

Clow.

I sweet Gentlemen, a kick of ease, send me to such a Master.

2 Bro.

No more I say, we have one for thee, a soft footed Master, One that wears wooll in's toes.

Clow.

Oh Gentlemen, soft garments may you wear, Soft skins may you wed, But as plump as pillows, both for white and red. And now will I reveal a secret to you, Since you provide for my poor flesh so tenderly, Has hir'd meer rogues out of his chamber window, To beat the Soldier, Monsieur Shamont's Brother:

1 Bro.

That nothing concerns us, Sir.

Clow.

For no c••••se, Gentlemen, Unless •• be for w••••ring Shoulder-points, With longer taggs than his.

2 Bro,

Is not that somewhat? Birlakin Sir, the difference of long tag••s, ••as co•••• many a mans li••e, and advanc'd other some, Com•• ••o••ow me.

Clow.

See what a gull am I: Oh every man in his profession; I know a thump now as judiciously, As the proudest he that walks, I'll except none; Come to a tagg, how short I fall? I'm gone.

Exeunt

Enter Lapet.

Lap.

I have been ruminating with my self, What honor a man loses by a kick: Why; what's a kick? the fury of a foot, Whose indignation commonly is stampt Upon the hinder quarter of a man: Which is a place very unfit for honor, The world will confess so much: Then what disgrace I pray, does thot part suffer Where honor never comes, I'de ••ain know that? This being well forc'd, and urg'd, may have the power To move most Gallants to take kicks in time, And spurn out the duelloes out o'th' kingdom, For they that stand upon their honor most, When they conceive there is no honor lost, As by a Table that I have invented For that purpose alone, shall appear plainly, Which shews the vanity of all blows at large. And with what ease they may be took of all sides, Numbring but twice o'er the Letters patience From C. P. to E. I. doubt not but in small time To see a dissolution of all bloud-shed, If the reform'd Kick do but once get up: For what a lamentable folly 'tis, If we observe't, for every little justle, Which is but the ninth part of a sound thump, In our meek computation, we must fight forsooth, yes, If I kill, I'm hang'd; if I be kill'd my self, I dye for't also: is not this trim wisdom? Now for the Con, a ma•• may be well beaten, Yet pass away his fourscore years smooth after: I had a Father did it, and to my power I will not be behind him.

Enter Shamont.

Sham.

Oh well met.

Lap.

Now a fine punch or two, I look sor't duly.

Sham.

I've been to seek you.

Lap.

Let me know your Lodging, Sir, I'll come to you once a day, and use your pleasure, Sir,

Sham.

I'm made the fittest man for thy society: I'll live and dye with thee, come shew me a chamber; There is no house but thine, but only thine, That's fit to cover me: I've took a blow, sirrah.

Lap.

I would you had indeed: why, you may see, Sir; You'll all come to't in time, when my Book's out.

Sham.

Since I did see thee last, I've took a blow.

Lap.

Pha Sir, that's nothing: I ha' took forty since.

Sham.

What? and I charg'd thee thou shouldst not?

Lap.

I Sir, you might charge your pleasure. But they would give't me, whether I would or no.

Sham.

Oh, I walk without my peace, I've no companion now; Prethee resolve me, for I cannot aske A man more beaten to experience, Than thou art in this kind, what manner of blow ••s held the most disgraceful, or distasteful? For thou dost only censure 'em by the hurt, Not by the shame they do thee: yet having felt Abuses of all kinds, thou may'st deliver, Though't be by chance, the most injurious one.

Lap.

You put me to't, Sir; but to tell you truth, They're all as one with me, little exception.

Sham.

T••at little may do much, let's have it from you.

Lap.

With all the speed I may, first then, and foremost, hold so reverently of the Bastinado, Sir, That if it were the dearest friend i'th' world, I'de put it into his hand.

Sham.

Go too, I'll pass that then.

Lap.

Y'are the more happy, Sir, Would I were past it too: But being accustom'd to't. It is the better carried.

Sham.

Will you forward?

dowst,

Lap.

Then there's your souce, your wherit and your Tugs on the hair, your bob o'th' lips, a whelp on't, ••ne'er could find much difference: Now your thump, •• thing deriv'd first from your Hemp-beaters, Takes a mans wind away, most spitefully: There's nothing that destroys a Collick like it, For't leaves no wind i'th' body.

Sham.

On Sir, on.

Lap.

Pray give me leave, I'm out of breath with thinking on't.

Sham.

This is far off yet.

L••p.

For the twinge by th' nose, 'Tis certainly unsightly, so my Tables says, But helps against the head-ach, wond'rous strangely,

Sham.

Is't possible?

Lap.

Oh your crush'd nostrils slakes your opilation, And makes your pent powers flush to wholsome sneezes.

Sham.

I never thought there had been half that virtue In a wrung nose before.

Lap.

Oh plenitude, Sir: Now come we lower to our modern Kick, Which has been mightily in use of late, Since our young men drank Coltsfoot: and I grant you, 'Tis a most scornful wrong, cause the foot plays it; But mark agen, how we that take't, requite it With the like scorn, for we receive it backward; And can there be a worse disgrace retorted?

Sham.

And is this all?

Lap.

All but a Lug by th' ear, Or such a trifle.

Sham.

Happy sufferer, All this is nothing to the wrong I bear: I see the worst disgrace, thou never felt'st yet; It is so far from thee, thou canst not think on't; Nor dare I let thee know, it is so abject.

Lap.

I would you would though, that I might prepare for't For I shall ha't at one time or another: If't be a thwack, I make account of that; There's no new fashion'd swap that e'er came up yet, But I've the first on 'em, I thank 'em for't.

Enter the Lady and Servants.

La.

Hast thou enquir'd?

1 Serv.

But can hear nothing, Madam.

Sham.

If there be but so much substance in thee To make a shelter for a man disgrac'd, Hide my departure from that glorious woman That comes with all perfection about her: So noble, that I dare not be seen of her, Since shame took hold of me: upon thy life No mention of me.

Lap.

I'll cut out my tongue first, Before I'll loose my life, there's more belongs to't.

Lad.

See there's a Gentleman, enquire of him.

2 Ser.

For Monsieur Shamont, Madam?

Lad.

For whom else, Sir?

1 Serv.

Why, this fellow dares not see him.

Lad.

How?

1 Serv,

Shamont, Madam? His very name's worse than a Feaver to him, And when he cries, there's nothing stills him sooner; Madam, your Page of thirteen is too hard for him, 'Twas try'd i'th' wood-yard.

Lad.

Alas poor grieved Merit! What is become of him? if he once fail, Virtue shall find small friendship: farewel then To Ladies worths, for any hope in men, He lov'd for goodness, not for Wealth, or Lust, After the worlds foul dotage, he ne'er courted The body, but the beauty of the mind, A thing which common courtship never thinks on: All his affections were so sweet and fair, There is no hope for fame if he despair,

Exit Lady and Ser••.

Enter the Clown. He kicks Lapet.

Lap.

Good morrow to you agen most heartily, Sir, Cry you mercy, I heard you not, I was somewhat busie.

Clow.

He takes it as familiarly, as an Ave, Or precious salutation: I was sick till I had one, Because I am so us'd to't.

Lap.

However you deserve, your friends and mine, here Give you large commendations i'this Letter, They say you will endure well.

Clow.

I'de be loath To prove 'em liers: I've endur'd as much As mortal pen and ink can set me down for.

Lap.

Say you me so?

Clow.

I know and feel it so, Sir, I have it under Black and White already; I need no Pen to paint me out.

Lap.

He fits me, And hits my wishes pat, pat: I was ne'er In possibility to be better mann'd, For he's half lame already, I see't plain, But take no notice on't, for fear I make The rascal proud, and dear, to advance his wages; First, let me grow into particulars with you; What have you endur'd of worth? let me hear.

Clow.

Marry Sir, I'm almost beaten blind.

Lap.

That's pretty well for a beginning, But many a Mill-horse has endur'd as much.

Clow.

Shame o'th' Millers heart for his unkindness then.

Lap.

Well Sir, what then?

Clow.

I've been twice thrown down stairs, just before supper.

Lap.

Puh, so have I, that's nothing.

Clow.

I but Sir, Was yours pray before supper;

Lap.

There thou posest me.

Clow.

I marry, that's it, 't had been less grief to me, Had I but fill'd my belly, and then tumbled, But to be flung down fasting, there's the dolour.

Lap.

It would have griev'd me, that indeed: proceed Sir.

Clo.

I have been pluck'd and tugg'd by th' hair o'th' head About a Gallery, half an Acre long.

Lap.

Yes, that's a good one, I must needs confess, A principal good one that, an absolute good one, I have been trode upon, and spurn'd about, But never tugg'd by th' hair, I thank my fates.

Clow.

Oh 'tis a spiteful pain.

Lap.

Peace, never speak on't, For putting men in mind on't.

Clow.

To conclude, I'm bursten Sir: my belly will hold no meat.

Lap.

No? that makes amends for all.

Clow.

Unless 't be puddings.

Or such fast food, any loose thing beguiles me, I'm ne'er the better for't.

Lap.

Sheeps-heads will stay with thee?

Clo.

Yes Sir, or Chaldrons.

Lap.

Very well sir: Your bursten fellows must take heed of surfets: Strange things it seems, you have endur'd;

Clo.

Too true Sir.

Lap.

But now the question is, what you will endure Hereafter in my service?

Clo.

Any thing That shall be reason Sir, for I'm but froth; Much like a thing new calv'd, or come more nearer Sir, Y'ave seen a cluster of Frog-spawns in April, E'en such a starch am I, as weak and tender As a green woman yet.

Lap.

Now I know this, I will be very gently angry with thee, And kick thee carefully.

Clow.

Oh I, sweet Sir.

Lap.

Peace, when thou art offer'd well, left I begin now. Your friends and mine have writ here for your truth, They'll pass their words themselves, and I must meet 'em.

Clow.

Then have you all:

Exit.

As for my honesty, there is no fear of that, For I have ne'er a whole bone about me.

Exit.

Musick, Enter the passionate Cosin, rudely, and carelesly ap∣parrell'd, unbrac'd, and untruss'd. The Cupid following.

Cup.

Think upon love, which makes all creatures handsome, Seemly for eye-sight; goe not so diffusedly, There are great Ladies purpose Sir to visit you.

Pas.

Grand plagues, shut in my easements, that the breaths Of their Coach-mares reek not into my nostrils; Those beasts are but a kind of bawdy fore-runners.

Cup.

It is not well with you, When you speak ill of fair Ladies.

Pas.

Fair mischiefs, give me a nest of Owls and take 'em; Happy is he, say I, whose window opens To a brown Bakers chimney, he shall be sure there To hear the Bird sometimes after twilight: What a fine thing 'tis methinks to have our garments Sit loose upon us thus, thus carelesly, It is more manly, and more mortifying; For we're so much the readier for our shrouds: For how ridiculous wer't, to have death come, And take a fellow, pinn'd up like a Mistriss? About his neck a Ruff, like a pinch'd Lanthorn, Which School-boys make in winter; and his doublet So close and pent, as if he fear'd one prison Would not be strong enough, to keep his soul in; But's Tailor makes another: And trust me; (for I know't when I lov'd Cupid,) He does endure much pain, for the poor praise Of a neat sitting suit.

Cup.

One may be handsome, Sir, And yet not pain'd, nor proud.

Pas.

There you lie Cupid, As bad as Mercury: there is no handsomness, But has a wash of Pride and Luxury, And you go there too Cupid. Away dissembler, Thou tak'st the deeds part, which befools us all; Thy Arrow heads shoot out sinners: hence away, And after thee I'll send a powerful charm, Shall banish thee for ever.

Cup.

Never, never, I am too sure thine own.

Exit.

Pas. Sings.

HEnce all you vain Delights, As short as are the nights, Wherein you spend your folly, There's nought in this life sweet, If man w••re wise to see't, But only mel••ncholly! Oh sweetest melancholly! Welcome folded Arms, and fixed Eyes, A sigh that piercing mortifies, A look that's fast' need to the ground, A tongue chain'd up without a sound.

Fountain heads, and p••t bless Groves, Places which pale passion loves: Moon-light walks, when all the Fowl. Are warmly hous'd, save Bats and Owls; A mid-night Bell, a parting groan, These are the sounds we feed upon; Then stretch our bones in a still gloomy valley, Nothing's so dainty sweet, as lovely melanch••lly.

Exit.

Enter at another door Lapet, the Cupid's Brothers watching his coming.

1 Bro.

So, so, the Woodcock's ginn'd; Keep this door fast brother.

2 Bro.

I'll warrant this.

1 Bro.

I'll got incense him instantly; I know the way to't.

2 Bro.

Will't not be too soon think you, And make two sits break into one?

1 Bro.

Pah, no, no; the tail of his melancholy Is always the head of his anger, and follows as close, As the Report follows the powder.

Lap.

This is the appointed place, and the hour struck, If I can get security for's truth, I'll never mind his honesty, poor worm, I durst lay him by my wife, which is a benefit Which many Masters ha' not: I shall ha' no Maid Now got with child, but what I get my self, And that's no small felicity: in most places Th'are got by th' Men, and put upon the Masters, Nor shall I be resisted when I strike, For he can hardly stand; these are great blessings.

Pas.

I want my food, deliver me a Varlet.

Within.

Lap.

How now, from whence comes that?

Pas.

I am allow'd a carkass to insult on; Where's the villain?

Lap.

He means not me I hope.

Pas.

My maintenance rascals; my bulk, my exhibition.

Dap.

Bless us all, What names are these? Would I were gone agen.

The passionate man enters in fury with a Truncheon.

He Sings.

A Curse upon thee for a slave, Art thou here, and heardst me rave? Fly not sparkles from mine eye, To shew my indignation nigh? Am I not all foam, and fire, With voice as hoarse as a Town-crier? How my back opes and shuts together, With fury, as old mens with weather? Could'st thou not hear my teeth gnash hither?

Lap.

No truly, Sir, I thought 't had been a Squirrel, Shaving a Hazel-nut.

Pas.

Death; Hell, Fiends, and darkness. I will thrash thy maungy carkass.

Lap.

Oh sweet Sir.

Pas.

There cannot be too many tortures, Spent upon those louzie Quarters.

Lap.

Hold, oh.

Falls down for dead.

Pas.

Thy bones shall rue, thy bones shall rue.

Sings again.

THou nasty, scurvy, mongril Toad, Mischief on thee; Light upon thee, All the plagues That can confound thee Or did ever raign abroad: Better a thousand lives it cost, Than have brave anger spilt or lost.

Exit.

Lap,

May I open mine eyes yet, and safely peep: I'll try a groon first—oh—Nay then he's gone. There was no other policy but to dy, He would ha' made me else. Ribs are you sore? I was ne'er beaten to a tune before.

Enter the two Brothers.

1 Bro.

Lapet.

Lap.

Agen?

Falls again.

1 Bro.

Look, look, he's flat agen, And stretched out like a Coarse, a handful longer Than he walks, trust me brother. Why Lapet I hold my life we shall not get him speak now: Monsieur Lapet; it must be a privy token, If any thing fetch him, he's so far gone. We come to pass our words for your mans truth.

Lap.

Oh Gentlemen y'are welcome: I have been thrash'd i' faith.

2 Bro.

How? thrash'd Sir?

Lap.

Never was Shrove-tuesday Bird So cudgell'd, Gentlemen.

1 Bro.

Pray how? by whom Sir?

Lap.

Nay, that I know not.

1 Bro.

Not who did this wrong?

Lap.

Only a thing came like a Walking Song?

1 Bro.

What beaten with a Song?

Lap.

Never more tightly, Gentlemen: Such crotchets happen now and then, methinks He that endures well, of all waters drinks.

Exeunt.

Actus Quartus.

Scaena Prima.

Enter Shamont's Brother, the Soldier, and 1 Gentleman.

Sold.

YEs, yes, this was a Madman, Sir, with you, A passionate Mad-man.

1 Gen.

Who would ha' lookt for this, Sir?

Sold.

And must be priviledg'd: a pox priviledge him: I was never so dry beaten since I was born, And by a litter of rogues, meer rogues, the whole twenty Had not above elbows amongst 'em all too: And the most part of those left-handed rascals, The very vomit, Sir, of Hospitals, Bridewels, and Spittle-houses; such nasty smellers, That if they'd been unfurnish'd of Club-Truncheons, They might have cudgell'd me with their very stinks, It was so strong, and sturdy: and shall this, This filthy injury, be set off with madness?

1 Gen.

Nay, take your own blouds counsel, Sir, hereafter, I'll deal no further in't: if you remember, It was not come to blows, when I advis'd you.

Sold.

No, but I ever said, 'twould come to something, And 'tis upon me, thank him: were he kin To all the mighty Emperors upon earth. He has not now in life three hours to reckon; I watch but a free time.

Enter Shamont.

1 Gent.

Your noble brother, Sir, I'll leave you now.

Ex.

Sham.

Soldier, I would I could perswade my thoughts From thinking thee a brother, as I can My tongue from naming on't: thou hast no friend here, But fortune and thy own strength trust to them.

〈◊〉〈◊〉

Treachery to virtue; Thy treachery, thy faithless circumvention: Has Honor so few daughters, never fewer, And must thou aim thy treachery at the best? The very front of virtue, that blest Lady? the Dukes Sister? Created more for admirations cause, Than for loves ends; whose excellency sparkles More in Divinity, than mortal beauty; And as much difference 'twixt her mind and body, As 'twixt this earths poor centre, and the Sun: And could'st thou be so injurious to fair goodness, Once to attempt to court her down to frailty? Or put her but in mind that there is weakness, Sin, and desire, which she should never hear of? Wretch, thou'st committed worse than Sacriledge, In the attempting on't, and ought'st to dye for't.

Sold.

I rather ought to do my best, to live, Sir. Provoke me not; for I've a wrong sits on me, That makes me apt for mischief; I shall lose All respects suddainly of friendship, Brother-hood, Or any sound that way.

Sham.

But 'ware me most; For I come with a two-edg'd injury; Both my disgrace, and thy apparent falshood, Which must he dangerous.

Sold.

I courted her, Sir; Love starve me with delays, when I confess it not.

Sham.

There's nothing then but death Can be a pennance fit for that confession.

Sold.

But far from any vitious taint.

Sham.

Oh Sir, Vice is a mighty stranger grown to courtship.

Sold.

Nay, then the fury of my wrong light on thee.

Enter 1 Gentleman, and others.

1 Gen.

Forbear, the Duke's at hand, Here, hard at hand, upon my reputation.

Sold.

I must do something now.

Ex. Sold.

Sham.

I'll follow you close Sir.

1 Gen.

We must intreat you must not; for the Duke Desires some conference with you.

Sham.

Let me go, As y'are Gentlemen.

2 Gent.

Faith we dare not Sir.

Sham.

Dare ye be false to honor, and yet dare not Do a man justice? give me leave —

1 Gent.

Good sweet Sir. H'as sent twice for you.

Sham.

Is this brave, or manly?

1 Gent.

I prethee be conform'd.

Sham.

Death—

Enter Duke.

2 Gent.

Peace, he's come in troth.

Sham.

Oh have you betraid me to my shame afresh? How am I bound to loath you?

Duke.

Shamont, welcome, I sent twice.

2 Gent.

But my Lord, he never heard on't.

Sham.

Pray pardon him, for his falseness, I did Sir, Both times; I'd rather be found rude, than faithless.

Duke.

I love that bluntness dearly: h'as no vice, But is more manly than some others virtue, That lets it out only for shew or profit.

Sham.

Will't please you quit me, Sir, I've urgent business?

Duke.

Come, you're so hasty now, I sent for you To a better end.

Sham.

And if it be an end, Better or worse, I thank your goodness for't.

Duke.

I've ever kept that bounty in condition, And thankfulness in bloud, which well becomes Both Prince and Subject, that where any wrong Bears my impression, or the hasty figure Of my repented anger, I'm a Law Ev'n to my self, and doom my self most strictly To Justice, and a noble satisfaction: So that, what you, in tenderness of honor, Conceive to be loss to you, which is nothing But curious opinion, I'll restore agen, Although I give you the best part of Genoa, And take to boot but thanks for your amends.

Sham.

Oh miserable satisfaction, Ten times more wretched than the wrong it self; Never was ill better made good with worse: Shall it be said, that my posterity Shall live the sole heir of their fathers shame? And raise their wealth and glory from my stripes? You have provided nobly, bounteous Sir, For my disgrace, to make it live for ever, Out-lasting Brass or Marble: This is my fears construction, and a deep one, Which neither argument nor time can alter: Yet I dare swear, I wrong your goodness in't Sir, And the most fair intent on't, which I reverence With admiration, that in you a Prince, Should be so sweet and temperate a condition, To offer to restore where you may ruine, And do't with justice, and in me a servant, So harsh a disposition, that I cannot Forgive where I should honor, and am bound to't, But I have ever had that curiosity In bloud, and tenderness of reputation Such an antipathy against a blow, I cannot speak the rest: Good Sir discharge me, It is not fit that I should serve you more, Nor come so near you; I'm made now for privacy, And a retir'd condition, that's my suit: To part from Court for ever, my last suit; And as you profess bounty, grant me that Sir.

Duke.

I would deny thee nothing.

Sham.

Health reward you, Sir

Exit.

Duke.

He's gone agen already, and takes hold Of any opportunity: not riches Can purchase him, nor honors, peaceably, And force were brutish: what a great worth's gone with him, And but a Gentleman? well, for his sake, I'll ne'er offend more, those I cannot make, They were his words, and shall be dear to memory. Say I desire to see him once agen; Yet stay, he's so well forward of his peace, 'Twere pity to disturb him: he would groan Like a soul fetch'd agen; and that were injury, And I've wrong'd his degree too much already. Call forth the Gentleman of our chamber instantly.

1 Serv.

I shall my Lord.

Within.

Duke.

I may forget agen, And therefore will prevent: the strain of this Troubles me so, one would not hazard more.

Enter 1 Gent. and divers others.

Gent.

Your Will my Lord?

Duke.

Yes; I discharge you all.

2 Gent.

My Lord—

Duke.

Your places shall be otherwise dispos'd of.

4 Gent.

Why Sir?

Duke.

Reply not, I dismiss you all: Y'are Gentlemen, your worths will find you fortunes; Nor shall your farewell taxe me of ingratitude. I'll give you all noble remembrances, As testimonies 'gainst reproach and malice, That you departed lov'd.

3 Gen.

This is most strange, Sir.

1 Gent.

But how is your Grace furnish'd, these dismiss'd?

Duke.

Seek me out Grooms. Men more insensible of reputation, Less curious and precise in terms of honor, That if my anger chance let fall a stroke, As we are all subject to impetuous passions, Yet it may pass unmurmur'd, undisputed, And not with braver fury prosecuted.

Exit.

1 Gent.

It shall be done, my Lord.

3 Gent.

Know you the cause, Sir?

1 Gent.

Not I kind Gentlemen, but by conjectures, And so much shall be yours when you please.

4.

Thanks Sir.

3 Gent.

We shall i'th mean time think our selves guilty Of some soul fault, through ignorance committed.

1 Gent.

No, 'tis not that, nor that way.

4 Gent.

For my part, I shall be dis-inherited, I know so much.

1 Gent.

Why Sir, for what?

4 Gent.

My Sire's of a strange humor, He'll form faults for me, and then swear 'em mine, And commonly the first begins with leachery, He knows his own youths trespass,

1 Gent.

Before you go, I'll come and take my leave, and tell you all Sirs.

3 Gent.

Thou wert ever just and kind.

Exit.

1 Gent.

That's my poor virtue, Sir, And parcel valiant; but it's hard to be perfect: The choosing of these fellows now will puzle me, Horribly puzle me; and there's no judgement Goes true upon mans outside, there's the mischief: He must be touch'd, and try'd, for gold or dross; There is no other way for't, and that's dangerous too; But since I'm put in trust, and I will atttempt it: The Duke shall keep one daring man about him.

Enter a Gallant.

Soft, who comes here? a pretty bravery this: Every one goes so like a Gentleman, 'Tis hard to find a difference, but by th' touch. I'll try your mettal sure.

Gal.

Why what do you mean Sir?

1 Gent.

Nay, and you understand it not, I do not.

Gal.

Yes, would you should well know, I understand it for a box o'th' ear Sir.

1 Gent.

And o'my troth, that's all I gave it for.

Gal.

'Twere best it be so.

1 Gent.

This is a brave Coward, A jolly threat'ning Coward; he shall be Captain: Sir, let me meet you an hour hence i'th' Lobby.

Gal.

Meet you? the world might laugh at you then i'faith.

1 Ge.

Lay by your scorn and pride, they're scurvy qualities, And meet me, or I'll box you while I have you, And carry you gambril'd thither like a Mutton.

Gal.

Nay, and you be in earnest, here's my hand I will not fail you.

1 Gent.

'Tis for your own good.

Gal.

Away.

1 Gent.

Too much for your own good, Sir, a pox on you.

Gal.

I prethee curse me all day long so.

1 Gent.

Hang you.

Gal.

I'll make him mad: he's loth to curse too much to me; Indeed I never yet took box o'th' ear, But it redounded, I must needs say so —

1 Gent.

Will you be gone?

Gal.

Curse, curse, and then I goe. Look how he grins, I've anger'd him to th' kidneys.

Ex.

1 Gen.

Was ever such a prigging coxcomb seen? One might have beat him dumb now in this humor, And he'd ha' grin'd it out still:

Enter a plain fellow.

Oh, here's one made to my hand, Methinks looks like a Craven; Less pains will serve his trial: some slight justle.

Plain.

How? take you that Sir: And if that content you not—

1 Gent.

Yes very well, Sir, I desire no more.

Plain.

I think you need not; For you have not lost by't.

Exit.

1 Gen.

Who would ha' thought this would have prov'd a Gentleman? I'll never trust long chins and little legs agen, I'll know 'em sure for Gentlemen hereafter: A gristle but in shew, but gave his cuff With such a fetch, and reach of gentry, As if h' had had his arms before the floud; I have took a villanous hard taske upon me; Now I begin to have a feeling on't.

Enter Lapet, and Clown his servant, and so habited.

Oh, here comes a try'd piece, now, the reformed kick. The millions of punches, spurns, and nips That he has endur'd? his buttock's all black Lead, He's half a Negro backward; he was past a Spaniard In Eighty eight, and more Aegyptian like; His Table and his Book come both out shortly, And all the cowards in the Town expect it; So, if I fail of my full number now, I shall be sure to find 'em at Church corners, Where Dives, and the suff'ring Ballads hang.

Lap.

Well, since thou art of so mild a temper, Of so meek a spirit, thou mayst live with me, Till better times do smile on thy deserts. I am glad I am got home again.

Clow.

I am happy in your service, Sir, You'll keep me from the Hospital.

Lap.

So, bring me the last proof, this is corrected.

Clow.

I, y'are too full of your correction, Sir,

Lap.

Look I have perfect Books within this half hour.

Clow.

Yes Sir.

Lap.

Bid him put all the Thumps in Pica Roman. And with great T's, (you vermin) as Thumps should be.

Clow.

Then in what Letter will you have your Kicks?

Lap.

All in Italica, your backward blows All in Italica, you Hermophrodite: When shall I teach you wit?

Clow.

Oh let it alone, Till you have some your self, Sir.

Lap.

You mumble?

Clow.

The victuals are lockt up; I'm kept from mumbling.

Exit.

Lap.

He prints my blows upon Pot Paper too, the rogue, Which had been proper for some drunken Pamphlet.

1 Gent.

Monsieur Lapet? how the world rings of you, Sir? Your name sounds far and near.

Lap.

A good report it bears, for an enduring name—

1 Gent.

What luck have you Sir?

Lap.

Why, what's the matter?

1 Gent.

I'm but thinking on't. I've heard you wish these five years for a place. Now there's one fall'n, and freely without money too; And empty yet, and yet you cannot have't.

Lap.

No? what's the reason? I'll give money for't, Rather than go without Sir.

1 Gen.

That's not it Sir: The troth is, there's no Gentleman must have it Either for love or money, 'tis decreed so; I was heartily sorry when I thought upon you, Had you not been a Gentleman, I had fitted you.

Lap.

Who I a Gentleman? a pox I'm none, Sir.

1 Gent.

How?

Lap.

How? why did you ever think I was?

1 Gent.

What? not a Gentleman?

Lap.

I would thou'dst put it upon me i'faith; Did not my Grand-father cry Cony-skins? My Father Aquavitae? a hot Gentleman: All this I speak on, i' your time and memory too; Only a rich Uncle dy'd, and left me chattels, You know all this so well too —

1 Gent.

Pray excuse me, Sir, ha' not you Arms?

Lap.

Yes, a poor couple here, That serve to thrust in wild-Fowl.

1 Gent.

Heralds Arms, Symbols of Gentry, Sir: you know my meaning; They've been shewn and seen.

Lap.

They have,

1 Gen.

I fex have they.

Lap.

Why I confess, at my wives instigation once, (As Women love these Heralds kickshawes naturally) I bought 'em: but what are they think you? puffs.

1 Gent.

Why, that's proper to your name being Lapet. Which is La fart, after the English Letter.

Lap.

The Herald, Sir, had much adoe to find it.

1 Gent.

And can you blame him? Why, 'tis the only thing that puzles the devil.

Lap.

At last he lookt upon my name agen, And having well compar'd it, this he gave me, The two Cholliques playing upon a wind Instrument.

1 Gent.

An excellent proper one; but I pray tell me, How does he express the Cholliques? They are hard things.

Lap.

The Cholliques? with hot trenchers at their bellies, There's nothing better, Sir, to blaze a Chollique.

1 Gent.

And are not you a Gentleman by this Sir?

Lap.

No, I disclaim't: no belly-ake upon earth Shall make me one: he shall not think To put his gripes upon me. And wring out gentry so, and ten pound first. If the wind Instrument will make my wife one, Let her enjoy't, for she was a Harpers Grand-child: But Sir, for my particular, I renounce it.

1 Gent.

Or to be call'd so?

Lap.

I Sir, or imagin'd.

1 Gent.

None fitter for the place: give me thy hand.

Lap.

A hundred thousand thanks, beside a Bribe, Sir.

1 Gent.

Yov must take heed Of thinking toward a Gentleman, now.

Lap.

Pish, I am not mad, I warrant you: nay, more Sir, If one should twit me i'th' teeth that I'm a Gentleman, Twit me their worst, I am but one since Lammas, That I can prove, if they would see my heart out.

2 Gen.

Marry, in any case keep me that evidence.

Enter Clown.

Lap.

Here comes my servant; Sir. Galoshio, Has not his name for nought, he will be trode upon: What says my Printer now?

Clow.

Here's your last Proof, Sir.

You shall have perfect Books now in a twinkling.

Lap.

These marks are ugly.

Clow.

He says, Sir, they're proper: Blows should have marks, or else they are nothing worth.

La.

But why a Peel-crow here?

Clow.

I told 'em so Sir: A scare-crow had been better.

Lap.

How slave? look you, Sir, Did not I say, this Whirrit, and this Bob, Should be both Pica Roman.

Clow.

So said I, Sir, both Picked Romans, And he has made 'em Welch Bills, Indeed I know not what to make on 'em.

Lap.

Hay-day; a Souse, Italica?

Clow.

Yes, that may hold, Sir, Souse is a bona roba, so is Flops too.

Lap.

But why stands Bastinado so far off here?

Clow.

Alas, you must allow him room to lay about him, Sir.

La.

Why lies this Spurn lower than that Spurn, Sir?

Clow.

Marry, this signifies one kick down stairs, Sir, The other in a Gallery: I ask'd him all these questions.

1 Gent.

Your Books name? Prethee Lapet mind me, you never told me yet.

La.

Marry but shall Sir: 'tis call'd the Uprising of the kick; And the downfall of the Duello

1 Gent.

Bring that to pass, you'll prove a happy member, And do your Countrey service: your young blouds Will thank you then, why they see fourscore.

Lap.

I hope To save my hundred Gentlemen a month by't, Which will be very good for the private house.

Clow.

Look you, your Table's finish'd, Sir, already.

Lap.

Why then behold my Master-piece: see, see, Sir, Here's all your Blows, and Blow-men whatsoever; Set in their lively colours, givers, and takers.

1 Gent.

Troth wondrous fine, Sir.

Lap.

Nay, but mark the postures, The standing of the takers, I admire more than the givers; They stand scornfully, most contumeliously, I like not them, Oh here's one cast into a comely Figure.

Clow.

My Master means him there that's cast down headlong

Lap.

How sweetly does this fellow take his Dowst? Stoops like a Cammel, that Heroick beast, At a great load of Nutmegs; and how meekly This other fellow here receives his Whirrit?

Clow.

Oh Master, here's a fellow stands most gallantly, Taking his kick in private, behind the hangings, And raising up his hips to't. But oh, Sir, How daintily this man lies trampled on? Would I were in thy place, what e'er thou art: How lovely he endures it?

1 Gent.

But will not these things, Sir, be hard to practise, think you?

Lap.

Oh, easie, Sir: I'll teach 'em in a Dance.

1 Gent.

How? in a dance?

Lap.

I'll lose my new place else, What e'er it be; I know not what 'tis yet.

1 Gent.

And now you put me in mind, I could employ it well, For your grace, specially: For the Dukes Cosin Is by this time in's violent fit of mirth, And a device must be sought out for suddainly, To over-cloy the passion.

Lap.

Say no more, Sir, I'll fit you with my Scholars, new practitioners, Endurers of the time.

Clow.

Whereof I am one Sir.

1 Gent.

You carry it away smooth; give me thy hand, Sir.

Exeunt.

Actus Quintus.

Scaena Prima.

Enter the two Brothers.

Pas.

HA, ha, ha.

Within.

2 Bro.

Hark, hark, how loud his fit's grown.

Pas.

Ha, ha, ha.

1 Bro.

Now let our Sister lose no time, but ply it With all the power she has.

2 Bro.

Her shame grows big, brother; The Cupid's shape will hardly hold it longer, 'Twould take up half an Ell of China Damask more, And all too little: it struts per'lously: There is no tamp'ring with these Cupids longer, The meer conceit with Woman-kind works strong.

Pas.

Ha, ha, ha.

2 Bro.

The laugh comes nearer now, 'Twere good we were not seen yet.

Ex. Bro.

Enter Passion, and Base, his jester.

Pas.

Ha. ha, ha, And was he bastinado'd to the life? ha, ha, ha. I prethee say, Lord General, how did the rascals Entrench themselves?

Base.

Most deeply, politickly, all in ditches.

Pas.

Ha, ha, ha.

Bas.

'Tis thought he'll ne'r bear Arms in field agen, Has much ado to lift 'em to his head, Sir.

Pas.

I would he had.

Bas.

On either side round Truncheons plaid so thick. That Shoulders, Chines, nay Flanks were paid to th' quick.

Pas.

Well said Lord-General: ha, ha, ha.

Bas.

But pray how grew the diff'rence first betwixt you?

Pas.

There was never any, Sir; there lies the jest man; Only because he was taller than his brother; There's all my quarrel, to him; and me thought He should be beaten for't, my mind so gave me, Sir, I could not sleep for't: Ha, ha, ha, ha. Another good jest quickly, while 'tis hot now; Let me not laugh in vain: ply me, oh ply me, As you will answer't to my cosin Duke.

Bas.

Alas, who has a good jest?

Pas.

I fall, I dwindle in't.

Bas.

Ten Crowns for a god jest: ha' you a good jest, Sir?

Enter Servant.

Serv.

A pretty moral one,

Bas.

Let's ha't, what e'er it be.

Serv.

There comes a Cupid Drawn by six fools.

Bas.

That's nothing.

Pas.

Help it, help it then.

Bas.

I ha' known six hundred fools drawn by a Cupid.

Pas.

I that, that, that's the smarter Moral: ha, ha, ha. Now I begin to be Song-ripe methinks.

Bas

I'll sing you a pleasant Air Sir, before you ebb.

SONG.

Pas.

Oh how my Lungs do tickle? ha, ha, ha.

Bas.

Oh how my Lungs do tickle? oh, oh, ho, ho.

Pas.

Sings.

Set a sharp Jest Against my breast, Then how my Lungs do tickle? As Nightingales, And things in Cambrick rails, Sing best against a prickle, Ha, ha, ha. ha.

Bas.

Ho, ho, ho, ho, ha.

Pas.

Laugh.

Bas.

Laugh.

Pas.

Laugh.

Bas.

Laugh.

Pas.

Wide.

Bas.

Loud,

Pas.

And vary.

Bas.

A smile is for a simpering Novice.

Pas.

One that ne'er tasted Caveare,

Bas.

Nor knows the smack of dear Anchovis.

Pas.

Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha.

Bas.

Ho, ho, ho, ho, ho.

Pas.

A gigling waiting wench for me, That shews her teeth how white they be.

Bas.

A thing not fit for gravity, For theirs are foul, and hardly three.

Pas.

Ha, ha, ha.

Bas.

Ho, ho, ho.

Pas.

Democritus, thou antient Fleerer, How I miss thy laugh, and ha' since.

Bas.

There you nam'd the famous Jeerer, That ever jeer'd in Rome, or Athens.

Pas.

Ha, ha, ha.

Bas.

Ho, ho, ho.

Pas.

How brave lives he that keeps a fool, Although the rate be deeper?

Bas.

But he that is his own fool, Sir, Does live a great deal cheaper.

Pas.

Sure I shall burst, burst, quite break, thou art so witty.

Bas.

'Tis rare to break at Court, for that belongs to th' City.

Pas.

Ha, ha, my spleen is almost worn to the last laughter.

Bas.

Oh keep a corner for a friend, a jest may come hereafter.

Enter Lapet and Clown, and four other, like fools dancing, the Cupid leading, and bearing his Table, and holding it up to Lapet at every strain, and acting the postures.

Lap.

Twinge all now, twinge I say.

2 Strain.

Souse upon Souse.

3 Strain.

Douses single.

4 Strain.

Justle sides.

5 Strain.

Knee Belly.

6 Strain.

Kicksee Buttock.

7 Strain.

La.

Downderry.

Enter Soldier, Shamont's brother; his sword drawn.

Sol.

Not angry Law, nor doors of Brass shall keep me, From my wrongs expiation to thy Bowels, I return my disgrace; and after turn My face to any death that can be sentenc'd,

Base.

Murder, oh murder, stop the murderer there—

Lap.

I am glad he's gone; h'as almost trode my guts out; Follow him who list for me, I'll ha' no hand in't.

Clo.

Oh 'twas your luck and mine to be squelch'd, Mr. Has stamp'd my very Puddings into Pancakes.

Cup.

Oh brothers, oh, I fear 'tis mortal: help, oh help, I'm made the wretchedst woman by this accident, That ever love beguil'd.

Enter two Brothers.

2 Bro.

We are undone Brother, Our shames are too apparent: Away receptacle Of Luxury, and dishonor, most unfortunate, To make thy self but lucky to thy spoil, After thy Sexes manner. lift him up Brother; He breaths not to our comfort, he's too wasted Ever to cheer us more: A Chirurgeon speedily; Hence; the unhappiest that e'er stept aside, She'll be a Mother, before she's known a Bride.

Cup.

Thou hadst a most unfortunate conception, What e'er thou prov'st to be; in midst of mirth Comes ruine, for a welcome, to thy birth.

Exeunt.

Scaena Secunda.

Enter Shamont.

Sham.

This is a beautiful life now; privacy The sweetness and the benefit of Essence: I see there is no man, but may make his Paradice; And it is nothing but his love, and dotage Upon the worlds foul joyes, that keeps him out on't: For he that lives retir'd in mind, and spirit, Is still in Paradice, and has his innocence, Partly allow'd for his companion too, As much as stands with justice: here no eyes Shoot their sharp pointed scorns upon my shame; They know no terms of reputation here, No punctual limits, or precise dimensions: Plain down-right honesty is all the beauty And elegancy of life, found amongst Shepheards; For knowing nothing nicely, or desiring it, Quits many a vexation from the mind, With which our quainter knowledge does abuse us; The name of envy is a stranger here, That dries mens blouds abroad, robs Health and Rest, Why here's no such fury thought on: no, nor falshood, That brotherly disease, fellow-like devil, That plays within our bosom, and betrays us,

Enter 1 Gent.

1 Gent.

Oh are you here?

Sham.

La Nove, 'tis strange to see thee.

1 Gent.

I ha' rid one horse to death, To find you out, Sir.

Sham.

I am not to be found of any man That saw my shame, nor seen long.

1 Gent.

Good, your attention: You ought to be seen now, and found out, Sir, If ever you desire before your ending To perform one good office, nay, a dear one, Mans time can hardly match it.

Sham.

Be't as precious As reputation; if it come from Court I will not hear on't.

1 Gent.

You must hear of this, Sir.

Sham.

Must?

1 Gent.

You shall hear it.

Sham.

I love thee, that thou'lt dye.

1 Gent.

'Twere nobler in me, Than in you living: you will live a murderer, If you deny this office.

Sham.

Even to death, Sir.

1 Gent.

Why then you'll kill your brother.

Sham.

How?

1 Gent.

Your Brother, Sir: Bear witness heaven, this man destroys his Brother When he may save him, his least breath may save him: Can there be wilfuller destruction? He was forc'd to take a most unmanly wrong,

Above the suff'ring virtue of a Soldier, Has kill'd his injurer, a work of honor; For which, unless you save him, he dies speedily My conscience is discharg'd, I'm but a friend, A Brother should go forward where I end.

Exit.

Sham.

Dyes? Say he be naught, that's nothing to my goodness, Which ought to shine through use, or else it loses The glorious name 'tis known by: he's my brother; Yet peace is above bloud: Let him go; I, But where's the nobleness of affection then? That must be car'd for too, or I'm imperfect, The same bloud that stood up in wrath against him, Now in his misery, runs all to pity; I'd rather dye than speak one syllable To save my self, but living as I am, There's no avoiding on't, the worlds humanity Expects it hourly from me: curse of fortune, I took my leave so well too: Let him dye, 'Tis but a brother lost; so pleasingly. And swiftly I came off, 'twere more than irksomness, To tread that path agen; and I shall never Depart so handsomely: but then where's posterity? The consummation of our house and name? I'm torn in pieces betwixt love and shame,

Exit.

Scaena Tertia.

Enter Lapet, Clown, Poultrot, Moulbazon, and others, the new Court Officers.

Lap.

Good morrow fellow Poltrot, and Moulbazon, Good morrow fellows all.

Pol.

Monsieur Lapet?

Lap.

Look, I've remembred you, here's books apiece for you.

Moul.

Oh Sir, we dearly thank you.

Lap.

So you may: There's two impressions gone already, Sirs.

Pol.

What no? in so short a time?

Lap.

'Tis as I tell you, Sir. My Kick sells gallantly, I thank my stars.

Clow.

So does your Table; you may thank the Moon too.

Lap.

'Tis the Book sells the Table.

Clow.

But 'tis the Bookseller That has the money for 'em, I'm sure o' that.

Lap.

'Twill much enrich the Company of Stationers, 'Tis thought 'twill prove a lasting benefit, Like the Wise Masters, and the Almanacks. The hundred Novels, and the Book of Cookery, For they begin already to engross it, And make it a Stock-book, thinking indeed 'Twill prove too great a benefit, and help, For one that's new set up: they know their way, And make him Warden, e'r his beard be gray.

Moul.

Is't possible such virtue should lye hid, And in so little Paper?

Lap.

How? why there was the Carpenter, An unknown thing; an odoriferous Pamphlet, Yet no more Paper, by all computation, Than Ajax Telamon would use at once, Your Herring prov'd the like, able to buy Another Fishers Folly, and your Pasquil Went not below the mad-caps of that time, And shall my elaborate Kick come behind, think you?

Clow.

Yes, it must come behind, 'tis in Italica too, According to your humor.

Lap.

Not in sale, Varlet.

Clow.

In sale, Sir? it shall sail beyond 'em all I tro.

Lap.

What have you there now? oh Page 21.

Clow.

That Page is come to his years, he should be a Serving man.

Lap.

Mark how I snap up the Duello there: One would not use a dog so, I must needs say; but's for the common good.

Clow.

Nay Sir, your Commons seldom fight at sharp, But buffet in a Warehouse.

Lap.

This will save Many a Gentleman of good bloud from bleeding, Sirs, I have a curse from many a Barber-Surgeon; They'd give but too much money to call't in; Turn to Page 45. see what you find there.

Clow.

Oh, out upon him, Page 45. that's an old thief indeed.

Enter Duke, the Lady his Sister, 1 Gent.

Lap.

The Duke, clap down your Books; away Galoshio.

Clow.

Indeed I am too soul to be i'th' presence, They use to shake me o•• a•• the chamber door still.

Ex.

Lady.

Good my Lord, ••••nt my suit: let me not rise Witho••t the comfort on't: I have not often Been tedious in this ••••••d.

Duke.

Sister, you wrong your self, And those great virtues that your Fame i•• ma••e of, To waste so much breath for a murderers life.

Lad.

You cannot hate th' offence more than I do, Sir, Nor the offendor, the respect I owe Unto his absent brother, makes me a suitor, A most importunate Sister, make me worthy But of this one request.

Duke.

I am deaf To any importunacy, and sorry For your forgetfulness; you never injur'd Your worth so much, you ought to be rebuk'd for't: Pursue good ways, end as you did begin, 'Tis half the guilt to speak for such a sin.

La.

This is loves beggery right, that now is ours, When Ladies love, and cannot shew their powers.

Ex.

Du.

La Nove?

1 Gent.

My Lord.

Duke.

Are these our new Attendants?

Lap.

We are my Lord, and will endure as much As better men, my Lord, and more I trust.

Duke.

What's he?

1 Gent.

My Lord, a decay'd Gentleman, That will do any service.

Duke.

A decay'd one?

1 Gent.

A renounc'd one indeed: for this place only.

Duke.

We renounce him then; go, discharge him instantly. He that disclaims his gentry for meer gains, That man's too base to make a vassal on.

Lap.

What says the Duke?

1 Duke.

Faith little to your comfort, Sir, You must be a Gentleman agen.

Lap.

How?

1 Gent.

There's no remedy.

Lap.

Marry, the fates foresend: ne'r while I breathe, Sir,

1 Gent.

The Duke will have it so, there's no resisting, He spy'd it i' your forehead.

Lap.

My wife's doing. She thought she should be put below her betters now, And su'd to ha' me a Gentleman agen.

1 Gent.

And very likely, Sir, Marry, I'll give you this comfort when all's done, You'll never pass but for a scurvy one, That's all the help you have: come shew your pace.

Lap.

The heaviest Gentleman that e'er lost place; Bear witness, I am forc'd to't.

Exit.

Duke.

Though you have a courser Title yet upon you, Than those that left your places, without blame, 'Tis in your power to make your selves the same: I cannot make you Gentlemen, that's a work Rais'd from your own deservings, merit, manners, And in-born virtue does it. Let your own goodness Make you so great, my power shall make you greater; And more t'encourage you, this I add agen, There's many Grooms, now exact Gentlemen.

Enter Shamont.

Sham.

Methinks 'tis strange to me to enter here: Is there in nature such an awful power, To force me to this place? and make me do this? Is mans affection stronger than his Will? His resolution? was I not resolv'd Never to see this place more? Do I bear Within my breast one bloud that confounds th' other? The bloud of Love, and Will, and the last weakest? Had I ten Millions, I would give it all now, I were but past it, or 'twould never come; For I shall never do't, or not do't well, But spoil it utterly betwixt two passions, Yonder's the Duke himself, I will not do't now, Had twenty lives their several sufferings in him.

Exit.

Duke.

Who's that went out now?

Pol.

I saw none my Lord.

Duke.

Nor you?

Moul.

I saw the glimpse of one my Lord.

Duke.

What e'er it was, methought it pleas'd me strangely And suddenly my joy was ready for't. Did you not mark it better?

Pol. & Moul.

Troth my Lord, We gave no great heed to't.

Enter Shamont.

Sham.

'Twill not be answer'd, It brings me hither still; by main force hither: Either I must give over to profess humanity, Or I must speak for him.

Duke.

'Tis here agen: No marvel 'twas so pleasing, 'tis delight And worth it self, now it appears unclouded.

Sham.

My Lord— He turns away from me: by this hand I am ill-us'd of all sides: 'tis a fault That fortune ever had t'abuse a goodness.

Duke.

Methought you were saying somewhat.

Sham.

Mark the Language, As coy as fate; I see 'twill ne'er be granted.

Duke.

We little look'd in troth to see you here yet.

Sham.

Not till the day after my brother's death, I think.

Duke.

Sure some great business drew you.

Sham.

No insooth, Sir, Only to come to see a brother dye, Sir, That I may learn to go too; and if he deceive me not, I think he will do well in't of a soldier, Manly, and honestly: and if he weep then, I shall not think the worse on's manhood for't, Because he's leaving of that part that has it.

Duke.

Has slain a noble Gentleman, think on't, Sir,

Sham.

I would I could not, Sir.

Duke.

Our kinsman too.

Sham.

All this is but worse, Sir.

Duke.

When 'tis at worst, Yet seeing thee, he lives.

Sham.

My Lord—

Duke.

He lives, Believe it as thy bliss, he dies not for't: Will this make satisfaction for things past?

Sham.

Oh my Lord —

Duke.

Will it? speak.

Sham.

With greater shame to my unworthiness.

Duke.

Rise then, we're even: I never found it harder To keep just with a man: my great work's ended. I knew your brother's pardon was your suit, Sir. However your nice modesty held it back.

Sham.

I take a joy now, to confess, it, Sir.

Enter 1 Gent.

1 Gent.

My Lord —

Duke.

Hear me first, Sir, what e'er your news be: Set free the Soldier instantly.

1 Gent.

'Tis done, my Lord.

Duke.

How?

1 Gent.

In effect: 'twas part of my news too, There's fair hope of your noble kinsman's life, Sir.

Duke.

What sayst thou?

1 Gent.

And the most admired change That living flesh e'r had; he's not the man my Lord; Death cannot be more free from passions, Sir, Than he is at this instant: he's so meek now, He makes those seem passionate, was never thought of: And for he fears his moods have oft disturb'd you, Sir, He's only hasty now for his forgiveness, And here behold him, Sir.

Enter Passion, the Cupid, and two Brothers.

Duke.

Let me give thanks first: our worthy Cosin —

Pas.

Your unworthy trouble, Sir; For which, with all acknowledg'd reverence, I ask your pardon; and for injury More known and wilful, I have chose a wife, Without your counsel, or consent, my Lord.

Duke.

A wife? where is she, Sir?

Pas.

This noble Gentlewoman.

Duke.

How?

Pas.

Whose honor my forgetful times much wrong'd.

Duke.

He's madder than he was.

1 Gent.

I would ha' sworn for him.

Duke.

The Cupid, Cosin?

Pas.

Yes, this worthy Lady, Sir.

Duke.

Still worse and worse.

1 Bro.

Our Sister under pardon, my Lord.

Duke.

What?

2 Bro.

Which shape Love taught her to assume.

Duke.

Is't truth then?

1 Gent.

It appears plainly now, below the waste, my Lord.

Duke.

Shamont, didst ever read of a She-Cupid?

Sham.

Never in fiction yet: but it might hold, Sir; For desire is of both Genders.

Enter the Dukes Sister.

Duke.

Make that good here:

He joyns Shamont's band and his Sisters.

I take thee at thy word, Sir.

Sham.

Oh my Lord, Love would appear too bold, and rude from me, Honour and admiration are her rights, Her goodness is my Saint, my Lord,

Duke.

I see, Y'are both too modest to bestow your selves: I'll save that virtue still, 'tis but my pains: come, It shall be so.

Sham.

This gift does but set forth my poverty.

La.

Sir, that which you complain of, is my riches.

Enter Shamont's brother the Soldier.

Duke.

Soldier, now every noise sounds peace, th'art welcome.

Sol.

Sir, my repentance sues for your blest favour, Which once obtain'd, no injury shall lose it; I'll suffer mightier wrongs.

Duke.

Rise, lov'd and pardon'd: For where Hope fail'd, nay Art it self resign'd, Thou'st wrought that cure, which skill could never find; Nor did there cease, but to our peace extend; Never could wrongs boast of a nobler end.

Exeunt.

EPILOGUE.

OƲr Poet bid us say for his own part, He cannot lay too much forth of his Art: But fears our over-acting passions may, As not adorn, deface his labour'd Play, Yet still he's resolute, for what is writ. Of Nicer valour, and assumes the wit: But for the Love-Scaenes which he ever meant, Cupid in's Peticoat should represent, He'll stand no shock of censure; the Play's good, He says he knows it, (if well understood.) But we (blind god) beg, if thou art Divine. Thou'lt shoot thy Arrows round, this Play was thine.

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