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 Tertius.

Scena Prima.

Enter Henrique, and Bartolus.

Hen.

YOU know my cause sufficiently?

Bar.

I do Sir.

Hen.

And though it will impair my honesty, And strike deep at my Credit, yet, my Bartolus, There being no other evasion left to free me From the vexation of my spightful Brother, That most insultingly raigns over me, I must and will go forward.

Bar.

Do, my Lord, And look not after credit, we shall cure that, Your bended honesly we shall set right, Sir, We Surgeons of the Law do desperate Cures, Sir,

And you shall see how heartily I'le handle it: Mark how I'le knock it home: be of good chear, Sir, ••ou give good Fees, and those beget good Causes, ••he Prerogative of your Crowns will carry the matter, Carry it sheer) the Assistant sits to morrow, And he's your friend, your monyed men love naturally, ••nd he's your loves are clear, so are your Causes.

Hen.

He shall not want for that.

Bar.

No, no, he must not, ••e your Cause warmly, Sir, the times are Aguish, ••hat holds a Plea in heart; hang the penurious, ••heir Causes (like their purses) have poor Issues.

Hen.

That way, I was ever bountiful.

Bar.

'Tis true, Sir, ••hat makes ye fear'd, forces the Snakes to kneel to ye, ••ive full of mony, and supply the Lawyer, And take your choice of what mans lands you please, Sir, What pleasures, or what profits; what revenges, They are all your own: I must have witnesses ••hough, and ready.

Hen.

You shall not want, my Bartolus.

Bar.

Substantial fearless souls, that will swear suddenly, That will swear any thing.

Hen.

They shall swear truth too.

Bar.

That's no great matter: for variety They may swear truth, else 'tis not much look'd after: •• will serve Process, presently, and strongly, Upon your Brother, and Octavio, ••acintha, and the Boy; provide your proofs, Sir, And set 'em fairly off, be sure of Witnesses, Though they cost mony, want no store of witnesses, •• have seen a handsome Cause so foully lost, Sir, ••o beastly cast away for want of Witnesses.

Hen.

There shall want nothing.

Bar.

Then be gone, be provident, ••end to the Judge a secret way: you have me, And let him understand the heart.

Hen.

I shall, Sir.

Bar.

And feel the pulses strongly beat, I'le study, And at my hour, but mark me, go, be happy, Go and believe i'th' Law.

Hen.

I hope 'twill help me.

Exeunt.

SCENA II.

Enter Lopez, Diego, and four Parishioners and Singers.

Lop.

Ne're talk to me, I will not stay amongst ye, O•• baush'd and ignorant lazie knaves I found ye, And fools I leave ye. I have taught these twenty years, Preacht spoon-meat to ye, that a Child might swallow, Yet ye are Block heads still: what should I say to ye? Ye have neither faith, nor mony left to save ye, Am I a fit companion for such Beggers?

1

If the Shepheard will suffer the sheep to be scab'd, Sir—

Lop.

No, no ye are rotten.

Die.

Would they were, for my sake.

Lop.

I have Nointed ye, and Tarr'd ye with my Doctrine, And yet the Murren sticks to ye, yet ye are Mangy, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 will avoid ye.

2

Pray ye, Sir, be not angry, ••n the pride of your new Cassock, do not part with us, We do acknowledge ye are a careful Curate, And one that seldom troubles us with Sermons, A short slice of a Reading serves us, Sir, We do acknowledge ye a quiet Teacher, Before you'll vex your Audience, you'll sleep with 'em, And that's a loving thing.

3

We grant ye, Sir, The only benefactor to our Bowling, To all our merry Sports the first provoker, And at our Feasts, we know there is no reason, But you that edifie us most, should eat most.

Lop.

I will not stay for all this, ye shall know me A man born to amore beseeming fortune Than ringing all in, to a ront of Dunces.

4

We will increase your Tithes, you shall have Eggs too, Though they may prove most dangerous to our Issues

1

I am a Smith; yet thus ••a•• out of my love, You shall have the tenth Horse I prick, to pray for, I am sure I prick five hundred in a year, Sir.

2

I am a Cook, a man of a dri'd Conscience, Yet thus far I relent: you shall have tith Pottage.

3

Your stipend shall be rais'd too, good Neighbour Diego.

Die.

Would ye have me speak for ye? I am more angry, Ten times more vex'd, not to be pacified: No, there be other places for poor Sextons, Places of profit, Friends, fine stirring places, And people that know how to use our Offices, Know what they were made for: I speak for such Capons? Ye shall find the Key o'th' Church Under the door, Neighbours, You may go in, and drive away the Dawes.

Lop.

My Surpless, with one sleeve, you shall find there, For to that death of Linnen you have driven me; And the old Cut work Cope, that hangs by Geometry: 'Pray ye turn 'em carefully, they are very tender; The remnant of the Books, lie where they did, Neighbours, Half puft away with the Church wardens pipings, Such smoaky zeals they have against hard places. The Poor mans Box is there too: if ye find any thing Besi••e the Posie, and that half rub'd out too, For fear it should awake too much charity, Give it to pious uses, that is, spend it.

Die.

The Bell-ropes, they are strong enough to hang ye, So we bequeath ye to your destiny.

1

'Pray ye be not so hasty.

Pie.

I'le speak a proud word to ye Would ye have us stay?

2

We do most heartily pray ye.

3

I'le draw as mighty drink, Sir.

Lop.

A strong motive, The stronger still, the more ye come unto me.

3

And I'le send for my Daughter.

Lop.

This may stir too: The Maiden is of age, and must be edified.

4

You shall have any thing: lose our learned Vicar And our most constant friend; honest dear Diego?

Die.

Yet all this will not do: I'le tell ye, Neighbours, And tell ye true: if ye will have us stay, If you will have the comforts of our companies, You shall be bound to do us right in these points, You shall be bound, and this the obligation, Dye when 'tis fit, that we may have fit duties, And do not seek to draw— out our undoings, Marry try'd Women, that are free, and fruitful, Get Children in abundance, for your Christnings, Or suffer to be got, 'tis equal justice,

Lop.

Let Weddings, Christnings, Churchings, Funerals, And merry Gossippings go round, go round still, Round as a Pig, that we may find the profit.

Die.

And let your old men fall sick handsomely, And dye immediately, their Sons may shoot up: Let Women dye o'th' Sullens too, tis natural, But be sure their Daughters be of age first, That they may stock us still: your queazie young Wives That perish undeliver'd, I am vext with, And vext abundantly, it much concerns me, There's a Childs Burial lost, look that be mended.

Lop.

Let'em be brought to Bed, then dye when they please. These things considered, Country-men, and sworn to.

2

All these, and all our Sports again, and Gambos.

3

We must dye, and we must live, and we'll be merry, Every man shall be rich by one another.

2

We are here to morrow and gone to day, for my part If getting Children can be friend my Neighbours. I'le labour hard but I'le fill your Font, Sir.

1

I have a Mother now, and an old Father, They are as sure your own, within these two months

4

My Sister must be pray'd for too, she is desperate, Desperate in love.

Die.

Keep desperate men far from her, Then 'twill go hard: do you see how melancholy? Do you mark the man? do you profess ye love him? And would do any thing to stay his fury? And are ye unprovided to refresh him, To make him know your loves? sie Neighbours.

2

We'll do any thing. We have brought Musick to appease his spirit, And the best Song we'll give him.

Die.

'Pray ye sit down, Sir, They know their duties now, and they stand ready To tender their best mirth.

Lop.

'Tis well, proceed Neighbours, I am glad I have brought ye to understand good manners, Ye had Puritan hearts a-while, spurn'd at all pastimes, But I see some hope now.

Die.

We are set, proceed Neighbours.

SONG.

1

Let the Bells ring, and let the Boys sing, The young Lasses skip and play, Let the Cups go round, till round goes the ground, Our Learned old Vicar will stay.

2

Let the Pig turn merrily, merrily ah, And let the fat Goose swim, For verily, verily, verily ah, Our Vicar this day shall be trim.

3

The stew'd Cock shall Crow, Cock a-loodle-loo, A loud Cock-a-loodle shall he Crow; The Duck and the Drake, shall swim in a lake Of Omons and Claret below.

Our Wives shall be neat, to bring in our meat; To thee our most noble adviser, Our pains shall be great, and Bottles shall sweat, And we our selves will be wiser.

We'll labour and swinck, we'll kiss and we'll drink, And Tithes shall come thicker and thicker; We'll fall to our Plow, and get Children enough, And thou shalt be learned old Vicar.

Enter Arsenio and Milanes.

Ars.

What ails this Priest? how highly the thing takes it?

Mil.

Lord how it looks? has he not bought some Prebend? Leandro's mony makes the Rascal merry, Merry at heart; he spies us.

Lop.

Be gone Neighbours, Here are some Gentlemen: be gone good Neighbours, Be gone, and labour to redeem my favour, No more words, but be gone: these two are Gentlemen, No company for crusty-handed fellows.

Die.

We will stay for a year or two, and try ye.

Lop.

Fill all your hearts with joy, we will stay with ye, Be gone, no more; I take your pastimes graciously.

Exeunt

Would ye with me, my friends?

Parishioners.

Ars.

We would look upon ye, For me thinks ye look lovely.

Lop.

Ye have no Letters? Nor any kind Remembrances?

Mil.

Remembrances?

Lop

From Nova Hispania, or some part remote, Sir, You look like Travel'd men: may be some old friends That happily I have forgot, some Signiours In China or Cataya; some Companions—

Die.

In the Moguls Court, or else-where.

Ars.

They are mad sure.

Lop.

Ye came not from Peru? do they look, Diego, As if they had some mystery about 'em? Another Don Alonzo now?

Die.

I marry, And so much mony, Sir, from one you know not, Let it be who it will.

Lop.

They have gracious favours. Would ye be private?

Mil.

There's no need on't, Sir, We come to bring ye a Remembrance from a Merchant.

Lop.

'Tis very well, 'tis like I know him.

Ars.

No, Sir, I do not think ye do.

Lop.

A new mistake, Diego, Let's carry it decently.

Ars.

We come to tell ye, You have received great sums from a young Factor They call Leandro, that has rob'd his Master, Rob'd him, and run away.

Die.

Let's keep close, Master; This news comes from a cold Country.

Lop.

By my faith it freezes,

Mil.

Is not this true? do you shrink now good-man Cura•• Do I not touch ye?

Lop.

We have a hundred Duckets Yet left, we do beseech ye, Sir—.

Mil.

You'll hang both.

Lop.

One may suffice.

Die.

I will not hang alone, Master, I had the least part, you shall hang the highest. Plague o' this Tiveria, and the Letter, The Devil sent it post, to pepper us, From Nova Hispania, we shall hang at home now.

Ars.

I see ye are penitent, and I have compassion: Ye are secure both; do but what we charge ye, Ye shall have more gold too, and he shall give it, Yet ne're indanger ye.

Lop.

Command us, Master, Command us presently, and see how nimbly—

Die.

And if we do not handsomely endeavour—

Ars.

Go home, and till ye hear more, keep private, Till we appear again, no words, Vicar, There's something added.

Mil.

For you too.

Lop.

We are ready.

Mil.

Go and expect us hourly, if ye falter, Though ye had twenty lives—

Die.

We are fit to lose 'em.

Lop.

'Tis most expedient that we should hang both.

Die.

If we be hang'd, we cannot blame our fortune.

Mil.

Farewel, and be your own friends.

Lop.

We expect ye.—

Exeunt.

SCENA III.

Enter Octavio, Jacintha, and Ascanio.

Octa.

We cited to the Court!

A Bar, Table-book, 2 〈◊〉〈◊〉 and Paper, standish set 〈◊〉〈◊〉

Jac.

It is my wonder.

Octa.

But not our fear, Jacintha; wealthy men, That have Estates to lose; whose conscious thoughts Are full of inward guilt, may shake with horrour To have their Actions sifted, or appear Before the Judge. But we that know our selves As innocent, as poor, that have no Fleece On which the Talons of the griping Law Can take sure hold, may smile with scorn on all That can be urg'd against us.

Jac.

I am confident There is no man so covetous, that desires To ravish our wants from us, and less hope There can be so much Justice left on earth,

••ough seed, and call'd upon) to case us of 〈◊〉〈◊〉 burthen of our wrongs.

Octa.

What thinks Ascanio? ••hould we be call'd in question, or accus'd ••njustly, what would you do to redeem us ••rom tyrannous oppression?

Asc.

I could pray ••o him that ever has an open ear, ••o hear the innocent, and right their wrongs; ••ay, by my troth, I think I could out-plead ••n Advocate, and sweat as much as he Do's for a double Fee, ere you should suffer ••n an honest cause.

Enter Jamie and Bartolus.

Octa.

Happy simplicitie!

Jac.

My dearest and my best one, Don Jamie.

Octa.

And the Advocate, that caus'd us to be summon'd.

Asc.

My Lord is mov'd, I see it in his looks, And that man, in the Gown, in my opinion ••ooks like a proguing Knave.

Jac.

Peace, give them leave.

Jam.

Serve me with Process?

Bar.

My Lord, you are not lawless.

Jam.

Nor thou honest; One, that not long since was the buckram Scribe, That would run on mens errands for an Asper, And from such baseness, having rais'd a Stock To bribe the covetous Judge, call'd to the Bar. ••o poor in practice too, that you would plead A needy Clyents Cause, for a starv'd Hen, Or half a little Loin of Veal, though fly-blown, And these, the greatest Fees you could arrive at For just proceedings; but since you turn'd Rascal—

Bar.

Good words, my Lord.

Jam.

And grew my Brothers Bawd, ••n all his vitious courses, soothing him ••n his dishonest practises, you are grown The rich, and eminent Knave, in the Devils name, What am I cited for?

Bar.

You shall know anon, And then too late repent this bitter language, Or I'll miss of my ends.

Jam.

Were't not in Court, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 would beat that fat of thine, rais'd by the food Snatch'd from poor Clyents mouths, into a jelly: 〈◊〉〈◊〉 would (my man of Law) but I am patient, And would obey the Judge.

Bar.

'Tis your best course: Would every enemy I have would beat me, I would wish no better Action.

Octa.

'Save your Lordship.

Asc.

My humble service.

Jam.

My good Boy, how dost thou? Why art thou call'd into the Court?

Enter Assistant, Henrique, Officer, and Witnesses.

Asc.

I know not, But 'tis my Lord the Assistants pleasure I should attend here.

Jam.

He will soon resolve us.

Offi.

Make way there for the Judge.

Jam.

How? my kind Brother? Nay then 'tis rank: there is some villany towards.

Assist.

This Sessions purchas'd at your suit, Don Henrique, Hath brought us hither, to hear and determine Of what you can prefer.

Hen.

I do beseech The honourable Court, I may be heard In my Advocate.

Assist.

'Tis granted.

〈◊〉〈◊〉.

Humh, humh.

••am.

That Preface, If left out in a Lawyer, spoils the Cause, Though ne're so good, and honest

Bar.

If I stood here, To plead in the defence of an ill man, (Most equal judge) or to ••••••use the innocent (To both which, I profess my self a stranger) It would be requisite I should d ct my Language With Tropes and Figures, and all flourishes That grace a Rhetorician 'tis confess'd A iulterate Metals need the Gold-smiths Art, To set 'em off; what in it self is perfect Contemns a borrowed gloss: this Lord (my Client) Whose honest cause, when 'tis related truly, Will challenge justice, finding in his Conscience A tender scruple of a fault long since By him committed, thinks it not sufficient To be absolv'd of't by his Confessor, If that in open Court he publish not What was so long conceal'd.

Jam.

To what tends this?

Bar.

In his young years (it is no miracle That youth, and heat of blood, should mix together) He look'd upon this woman, on whose face The ruines yet remain, of excellent form, He look'd on her, and lov'd her.

Jac.

You good Angels, What an impudence is this?

Bar.

And us'd all means Of Service, Courtship, Presents, that might win her To be at his devotion: but in vain; Her Maiden Fort, impregnable held out, Until he promis'd Marriage; and before These Witnesses a solemn Contract pass'd To take her as his Wife.

Assist.

Give them their Oath.

Jam.

They are incompetent Witnesses, his own Creature, And will swear any thing for half a Royal.

Offi.

Silence.

Assist.

Proceed.

Bar.

Upon this strong assurance He did enjoy his wishes to the full, Which satisfied, and then with eyes of Judgement (Hood wink'd with Lust before) considering duly The inequality of the Match, he being Nobly descended, and allyed, but she Without a name, or Family, secretly He purchas'd a Divorce, to disanul His former Contract, Marrying openly The Lady Violante.

Jac.

As you sit here The Deputy of the great King, who is The Substitute of that impartial Judge, With whom, or wealth, or titles prevail nothing, Grant to a much wrong'd Widow, or a Wife Your patience, with liberty to speak In her own Cause, and let me face to face To this bad man, deliver what he is: And if my wrongs, with his ingratitude ballanc'd, Move not compassion, let me die unpitied; His Tears, his Oaths, his Perjuries, I pass o're; To think of them is a disease; but death Should I repeat them. I dare not deny, (For Innocence cannot justifie what's false) But all the Advocate hath alledged concerning His falshood, and my shame, in my consent, To be most true: But now I turn to thee, To thee Don Henrique, and if impious Acts Have left thee blood enough to make a blush, I'le paint it on thy cheeks. Was not the wrong Sufficient to defeat me of mine honour, To leave me full of sorrow, as of want, The witness of thy lust left in my womb, To testifie thy falshood, and my shame? But now so many years I had conceal'd Thy most inhumane wickedness, and won

This Gentleman, to hide it from the world, To Father what was thine (for yet by Heaven, ••hough in the City he pass'd for my husband, He never knew me as his wife.)

Assist.

'Tis strange: Give him an Oath.

O••••.

I gladly swear, and truly.

Ja••.

After all this (I say) when I had born These wrongs, with Saint-like patience, saw another Freely enjoy, what was (in Justice) mine, Yet still so tender of thy rest and quiet, I never would divulge it, to disturb Thy peace at home; yet thou most barbarous, To be so careless of me, and my fame, ••or all respect of thine in the first step To thy base lust, was lost) in open Court To publish my disgrace? and on record, To write me up an easie-yielding wanton? I think can find no precedent: In my extreams, One comfort yet is left, that though the Law Divorce me from thy bed, and made free way To the unjust embraces of another, It cannot yet deny that this thy Son (Look up Ascanio since it is come out) Is thy legitimate heir.

Jam.

Consederacie! A trick (my Lord) to cheat me; e're you give Your Sentence, grant me hearing.

Assist.

New Chimera's?

Jam.

I am (my Lord) since he is without Issue, Or hope of any, his undoubted heir, And this forg'd by the Advocate, to defeat me Of what the laws of Spain confer upon me, A mee•• Imposture, and conspiracie Against my future fortunes.

Assist.

You are too bold. Sp••ak to the cause Don Henrique.

Hen.

I confess, (Though the acknowledgment must wound mine honour,) That all the Court hath heard touching this Cause, (Or with me, or against me) is most true: The later part my Brother urg'd, excepted: For what I now doe, is not out of Spleen (As he pretends) but from remorse of conscience And to repair the wrong that I have done To this poor woman: And I beseech your Lordship To think I have not so ••ar lost my reason, To bring into my familie, to succeed me, The stranger—Issue of anothers Bed, By proof, this is my Son, I challenge him, Accept him, and acknowledge him, and desire By a definitive Sentence of the Court, He may be so recorded, and full power To me, to take him home.

Jac.

A second rape To the poor remnant of content that's left me, If this be granted: and all my former wrongs Were but beginnings to my miseries, But this the height of all: ••ather than part With my Ascan••o, I'le deny my oath, Profess my self a Strumpet, and endure What punishment soe're the Court decrees Against a wretch that hath for sworn her self, Or pla••'d the impu••ent whore.

Assist.

This tastes of passion, And that must not divert the course of Justice; Don He••••••••••e, take your Son, with this condition You give him maintenance, as becomes his birth, And 'twill stand with your honour to doe something ••or this wrong••d woman: I will compel nothing, But leave it to your will. Break up the Court: It is in va•••• to m•••••• me; my doom's pass'd, And cannot be revok'd

Exit.

Hen.

〈◊〉〈◊〉 your reward.

Bar.

More causes, and such Fees. Now to my Wi••e, I have too long been absent: Health to your Lordship

E••

Asc.

You all look strangely, and I fear believe This unexpected fortune makes me proud, Indeed it do's not: I shall ever pay you The duty of a son, and honour you Next to my Father: good my Lord, for yet I dare not call you, uncle, be not sad, I never shall forget those noble favours You did me being a stranger, and if ever I live to be the master of a fortune, You shall command it.

Jam.

Since it was determin'd I should be cozen'd, I am glad the profit Shall fall on thee, I am too tough to melt, But something I will do.

Hen.

'Pray you take leave Of your steward (gentle Brother) the good husband That takes up all for you.

Jam.

Very well, mock on, It is your turn: I may have mine—

Ex••

Oct.

But do not Forget us, dear Ascanio.

Asc.

Do not fear it, I every day will see you: every hour Remember you in my prayers.

Oct.

My grief's too great To be expressed in words—

Ex••

Hen.

Take that and leave us,

gives mony to sa••••••

Leave us without reply, nay come back sirrah And study to forget such things as these As are not worth the knowledge.

Asca. offers to fe••••••

Asc.

O good Sir, These are bad principles—

Hen.

Such as you must learn Now you are mine, for wealth and poverty Can hold no friendship: and what is my will You must observe and do, though good or ill.

Exe••••••

SCENA IV.

Enter Bartolus.

Bar.

Where is my wife? 'fore heaven, I have done w••••der•• Done mighty things to day, my Amaranta, My heart rejoyces at my wealthy Gleanings, A rich litigious Lord I love to follow, A Lord that builds his happiness on brawlings, O 'tis a blessed thing to have rich Clyents, Why, wife I say, how fares my studious Pupil? Hard at it still? ye are too violent, All things must have their rests, they will not last else, Come out and breathe.

Leandro wit••••••

Lean.

I do beseech you pardon me, I am deeply in a sweet point Sir.

Bar.

I'le instruct ye:

Enter Amaranta.

I say take breath, seek health first, then your study. O my sweet soul, I have brought thee golden birds home, Birds in abundance: I have done strange wonders: There's more a hatching too.

Am.

Have ye done, good husband? Then 'tis a good day spent.

Bar.

Good enough chicken, I have spread the nets o'th' law, to catch rich booties, And they come sluttering in: how do's my Pupil? My modest thing, hast thou yet spoken to him?

Am.

As I past by his chamber I might see him, But he is so bookish.

Bar.

And so bashfull too, I' saith he is, before he will speak, he will starve th••re.

Am.

I pitie him a little.

Bar.

So do I too.

Am.

And if he please to take the air o'th' gardens, Or walk i'th' inward rooms, so he molest not —

Bar.

He shall not trouble thee, he dare not speak to thee.

Enter Moor, with Chesse-board.

Bring out the Chesse-board,—come let's have a game wise, I'le try your masterie, you say you are cunning

Am.

As learned as ye are, Sir, I shall beat ye.

Enter Leandro.

Bar.

Here he steals out, put him not out of countenance, Prethee look another way, he will be gone else Walk and refresh your self, I'll be with you presently.

Lean.

I'le take the air a little.

Play at chess.

Bar.

'Twill be healthfull.

Am.

Will ye be there? then here? I'le spare ye that man.

Lea.

Would I were so near too, and a mate fitting.

Am.

What think ye, Sir, to this? have at your Knight now.

Bar.

'Twas subtilly play'd: your Queen lies at my service. Prethee look off, he is ready to pop in again, Look off I say, do'st thou not see how he blushes?

Am.

I do not blast him.

Lean.

But ye do, and burn too, What killing looks she steals?

Bar.

I have you now close, Now for a Mate.

Lean.

You are a blessed man that may so have her. Oh that I might play with her—

knock within.

Bar.

Who's there? I come, you cannot scape me now wife. I come, I come.

knock.

Lean.

Most blessed hand that calls him.

Bar.

Play quickly wife.

Am.

'Pray ye give leave to think, Sir.

Enter Moor.

Moor.

An honest neighbour that dwells hard by, Sir, Would fain speak with your worship about business.

Lean.

The devil blow him off.

Bar.

Play.

Am.

I will study: For if you beat me thus, you will still laugh at me—

knock

Bar.

He knocks again; I cannot stay. Leandro, 'Pray thee come near.

Lean.

I am well, Sir, here.

Bar.

Come hither: Be not afraid, but come.

Am.

Here's none will bite, Sir.

Lean.

God forbid Lady.

Am.

'Pray come nearer.

Lean.

Yes forsooth.

Bar.

'Prethee observe these men: just as they stand here, And see this Lady do not alter 'em, And be not partial, Pupil.

Lean.

No indeed Sir.

Bar.

Let her not move a pawn, I'le come back presently, Nay you shall know I am a Conquerour. Have an eye Pupil —

Exit.

Am.

Can ye play at Chess Sir?

Lean.

A little, Lady.

Am.

But you cannot tell me How to avoid this Mate, and win the Game too; H'as noble eyes: ye dare not friend me so far.

Lean.

I dare do any thing that's in mans power Lady, To be a friend to such a noble beauty.

Am.

This is no Lawyers language: I pray ye tell me, Whither may I remove, Ye see I am set round, To avoid my husband?

Lean.

I shall tell ye happily, But happily you will not be instructed.

Am.

Yes, and thank ye too, shall I move this man?

Lean.

Those are unseemly: move one can serve ye, Can honour ye, can love ye.

Am.

'Pray ye tell quickly, He will return, and then.

Lean.

I'le tell ye instantly, Move me, and I will move any way to serve ye, Move your heart this way, Lady.

Am.

How?

Lean.

'Pray ye hear me. Behold the sport of love, when he is imperious, Behold the slave of love.

Am.

Move my Queen this way? Sure, he's some worthy man: then if he hedge m••, Or here to open him.

Lean.

Do but behold me, If there be pity in you, do but view me, But view the misery I have undertaken For you, the povertie.

Am.

He will come presently. Now play your best Sir, though I lose this Rook here, Yet I get libertie.

Lean.

I'le selfe your fair hand, And warm it with a hundred, hundred kisses. The God of love warm your desires but equal, That shall play my game now.

Am.

What do you mean Sir? Why do you stop me?

Lean.

That ye may intend me. The time has blest us both: love bids us use it. I am a Gentleman nobly descended, Young to invite your love, rich to maintain it. I bring a whole heart to ye, thus I give it, And to those burning altars thus I offer, And thus, divine lips, where perpetual Spring grows—

Am.

Take that, ye are too saucy.

Lean.

How, proud Lady? Strike my deserts?

Am.

I was to blame.

Enter Bartolus.

Bar.

What wise, there? Heaven keep my house from thieves.

Lean.

I am wretched: Opened, discovered, lost to my wishes. I shall be whooted at.

Bar.

What noise was this, wise? Why dost thou smile?

Lean.

This proud thing will betray me.

Bar.

Why these lie here? what angry, dear?

Am.

No, Sir, Only a chance, your pupil said he plaid well, And so indeed he do's: he undertook for ye, Because I would not sit so long time idle, I made my liberty, avoided your mate, And he again as cunningly endangered me, Indeed he put me strangely to it. When presently Hearing you come, & having broke his ambush too, Having the second time brought off my Queen fair, I rose o'th' sudden smilingly to shew ye, My apron caught the Chesse-board, and the men, And there the noise was.

Bar.

Thou art grown a Master, For all this I shall beat ye.

Lean.

Or I, Lawyer, For now I love her more, 'twas a neat answer, And by it hangs a mighty hope, I thank her, She gave my pate a sound knock that it rings yet, But you shall have a sounder if I live lawyer, My heart akes yet, I would not be in that fear—

Bar.

I am glad ye are a gamester, Sir, sometimes For recreation we two shall fight hard at it.

Am.

He will prove too hard for me.

Lean.

I hope he shall do, But your Chess board is too hard for my head, line that, good Lady.

Bar.

I have been attoning two most wrangling neighbours, They had no mony, therefore I made even. Come, let's go in and eat, truly I am hungry.

Lean.

I have eaten already, I must intreat your pardon.

••ar.

Do as ye please, we shall expect ye at supper. He has got a little heart, now it seems handsomly.

Am.

You'l get no little head, if I do not look to ye.

Lean.

If ever I do catch thee again thou vanity—

Am.

I was to blame to be so rash, I am sorry—

Exeunt