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 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.

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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.