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.

Scena Prima.

Enter Uncle, and Merchant.

Ʋnc.

MOst certain 'tis her hands that hold him up, and her sister relieves Frank.

Mer.

I am glad to hear it: but wherefore do they not pursue this fortune to some fair end?

Ʋnc.

The women are too craftie, Valentine too coy, and Frank too bashfull, had any wise man hold of such a blessing, they would strike it out o'th' slint but they would form it.

Enter Widow, and Shorthose.

Mer.

The Widow sure, why does she stir so early?

Wid.

'Tis strange, I cannot force him to understand me, and make a benefit of what I would bring him: tell my sister I'le use my devotions at home this morning, she may if she please go to Church.

Short.

Hey ho.

Wid.

And do you wait upon her with a torch Sir.

Short.

Hey ho.

Wid.

You lazie Knave.

Short.

Here is such a tinkle tanklings that we can ne're lie quiet, and sleep our prayers out. Ralph, pray emptie my right shooe that you made your Chamber pot, and burn a little Rosemarie in't, I must wait upon my Lady. This mor∣ning Prayer has brought me into a consumption, I have no∣thing left but flesh and bones about me.

Wid.

You drousie slave, nothing but sleep and swilling?

Short.

Had you been bitten with Bandog sleas, as I have been, and haunted with the night Mare.

Wid.

With an Ale-pot.

Short.

You would have little list to morning Prayers, pray take my fellow Ralph, he has a Psalm Book, I am an ingrum man.

Wid.

Get you ready quickly, and when she is ready wait upon her handsomely; no more, be gone.

Short.

If I do snore my part out —

Exit Short.

Ʋnc.

Now to our purposes.

Mer.

Good morrow, Madam.

Wid.

Good morrow, Gentlemen.

Ʋnc.

Good joy and fortune.

Wid.

These are good things, and worth my thanks, thank you Sir.

Mer.

Much joy I hope you'l find, we came to grat•••••• your new knit marriage-band.

Wid.

How?

Ʋnc.

He's a Gentleman, although he be my kinsm•••• my fair Niece.

Wid.

Niece, Sir?

Ʋnc.

Yes Lady, now I may say so, 'tis no shame to yo•• say a Gentleman, and winking at some light fancies, w•••••••• you most happily may affect him for, as bravely carried, a nobly bred and managed.

Wid.

What's all this? I understand you not, what Nie•••• what marriage-knot?

Ʋnc.

I'le tell plainly, you are my Niece, and Valentine the Gentleman has made you so by marriage.

Wid.

Marriage?

Ʋnc.

Yes Lady, and 'twas a noble and vertuous part, t•• take a falling man to your protection, and buoy him up a¦gain to all his glories.

Wid.

The men are mad.

Mer.

What though he wanted these outward thing•• that flie away like shadows, was not his mind a full or and a brave one? You have wealth enough to give h•••• gloss and outside, and he wit enough to give way to love a Lady.

Ʋnc.

I ever thought he would do well.

Mer.

Nay, I knew how ever he wheel'd about 〈◊〉〈◊〉 a loose Cabine, he would charge home at length, like a brave Gentleman; Heavens blessing o' your heart Lady, we are so bound to honour you, in all your service 〈◊〉〈◊〉 devoted to you.

Ʋnc.

Do not look so strange Widow, it must be know•• better a general joy; no stirring here yet, come, come, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 cannot hide 'em.

Wid.

Pray be not impudent, these are the finest toyes, be like I am married then?

Mer.

You are in a miserable estate in the worlds account else, I would not for your wealth it come to doubting.

Wid.

And I am great with child?

Ʋnc.

No, great they say not, but 'tis a full opinion you•• with child, and great joy among the Gentlemen, your hu••∣band hath bestirred himself fairly.

Mer.

Alas, we know his private hours of entrance, h•••• long, and when he stayed, could name the bed too, where i•• paid down his first-fruits.

Wid.

I shall believe anon.

Ʋnc.

And we consider for some private reasons, you work have it private, yet take your own pleasure; and so good morrow, my best Niece, my sweetest.

Wid.

No, no, pray stay.

Ʋnc.

I know you would be with him, love him, and love him well.

Mer.

You'l find him noble, this may beget —

Ʋnc.

It must needs work upon her.

Exit Uncle, and Mer••

Wid.

These are fine bobs i'faith, married, and with ch•• too! how long has this been, I trow? they seem grave fel¦lows, they should not come to slout; married, and bedded the world takes notice too! where lies this May game? I could be vext extreamly now, and rail too, but 'tis to 〈◊〉〈◊〉 end, though I itch a little, must I be scratcht I know not bo•• who waits there?

Enter Humphrey, a Servant.

Hum.

Madam.

Wid.

Make ready my Coach quickly, and wait you only and hark you Sir, be secret and speedy, inquire out w•••••• he lies.

Hum.

I shall do it, Madam.

Wid.

Married, and got with child in a dream 〈◊〉〈◊〉 fine i'saith, sure he that did this, would do better wa••••••••

Enter Valentine, Fran. Lance, and a Boy with a Torch.

Val.

Hold thy Torch handsomely: how dost thou Frank? ••ter Bassel, bear up.

Fran.

You have fried me soundly, Sack do you call this ••ink?

Val.

A shrewd dog, Frank, will bite abundantly.

Lan.

Now could I fight, and fight with thee.

Val.

With me, thou man of Memphis?

Lan.

But that thou art mine own natural master, yet ••y sack says thou art no man, thou art a Pagan, and pawn∣•• thy land, which a noble cause.

Val.

No arms, nor arms, good Lancelot, dear Lance, •• fighting here, we will have Lands boy, Livings, and ••tles, thou shalt be a Vice-Roy, hang fighting, hang't 'tis ••ut of fashion.

Lan.

I would fain labour you into your lands again, go ••, it is behoveful.

Fran.

Fie Lance, fie.

Lan.

I must beat some body, and why not my Master, ••efore a stranger? charity and beating begins at home.

Val.

Come, thou shalt beat me.

Lan.

I will not be compel'd, and you were two Masters, scorn the motion.

Val.

Wilt thou sleep?

Lan.

I scorn sleep.

Val.

Wilt thou go eat?

Lan.

I scorn meat, I come for rompering, I come to ••ait upon my charge discreetly; for look you, if you will ••ot take your Mortgage again, here do I lie S^t George, and •• forth.

Val.

And here do I S^t George, bestride the Dragon, thus ••ith my Lance.

Lan.

I sting, I sting with my tail.

Val.

Do you so, do you so, Sir? I shall tail you presently.

Fran.

By no means, do not hurt him.

Val.

Take this Nelson, and now rise, thou Maiden Knight ••f Mallig••, lace on thy Helmet of inchanted Sack, and ••harge again.

Lan.

I'le play no more, you abuse me, will you go?

Fran.

I'le bid you good morrow, Brother, for sleep I ••annot, I have a thousand fancies.

Val.

Now thou art arrived, go bravely to the matter, ••nd do something of worth, Frank.

Lan.

You shall hear from us.

Exeunt Lance and Frank.

Val.

This Rogue, if he had been sober, sure had beaten ••ne, is the most tettish Knave.

Enter Uncle and Merchant, Boy with a Torch.

Ʋnc.

'Tis he.

Mer.

Good morrow.

Val.

Why, Sir, good morrow to you too, and you be ••o lusty.

Ʋnc.

You have made your Brother a fine man, we met ••im.

Val.

I made him a fine Gentleman, he was a fool before, ••rought up amongst the midst of Small-Beer-Brew-houses, what would you have with me?

Mer.

I come to tell you, your latest hour is come.

Val.

Are you my sentence?

Mer.

The sentence of your state.

Val.

Let it be hang'd then, and let it be hang'd high enough, I may not see it.

Ʋnc.

A gracious resolution.

Val.

What would you have else with me, will you go drink, and let the world slide, Uncle? Ha, ha, ha, boyes, ••rink Sack like Whey, boyes.

Mer.

Have you no feeling, Sir?

Val.

Come hither Merchant: make me a supper, thou most reverent Land catcher, a supper of forty pounds.

Mer.

What then, Sir?

Val.

Then bring thy Wife along, and thy fair Sisters, ••hy Neighbours and their Wives, and all their trinkets, ••et me have forty Trumpets, and such Wine, we'll laugh at all the miseries of Mortgage, and then in state I'le rende•• thee an answer.

Mer.

What say you to this?

Ʋnc.

I dare not say, nor think neither.

Mer.

Will you redeem your state, speak to the point, Sir?

Val.

Not, not if it were mine heir in the Turks Gallies.

Mer.

Then I must take an order?

Val.

Take a thousand, I will not keep it, nor thou shalt not have it, because thou camest i'th' nick, thou shalt not have it, go take possession, and be sure you hold it, hold fast with both hands, for there be those hounds uncoupled, will ring you such a knell, go down in glory, and march up on my land, and cry, All's mine; cry as the Devil did, and be the Devil, mark what an Echo follows, build fine March-panes, to entertain Sir Silk-worm and his Lady, and pull the Chappel down, and raise a Chamber for Mistress Silver-pin, to lay her belly in, mark what an Earthquake comes. Then foolish Merchant my Tenants are no Subjects, they obey nothing, and they are people too never Chri¦stened, they know no Law nor Conscience, they'll devour thee; and thou mortal, the stopple, they'll confound thee within three days; no bit nor memory of what thou wert, no not the Wart upon thy Nose there, shall be e're heard of more; go take possession, and bring thy Children down, to rost like Rabbets, they love young Toasts and Butter, Bow-bell Suckers; as they love mischief, and hate Law, they are Cannibals; bring down thy kindred too, that be not fruitful, there be those Mandrakes that will mollifie 'em, go take possession. I'le go to my Chamber, afore Boy go.

Exeunt.

Mer.

He's mad sure.

Ʋnc.

He's half drunk sure: and yet I like this unwilling∣ness to lose it, this looking back.

Mer.

Yes, if he did it handsomely, but he's so harsh and strange.

Ʋnc.

Believe it 'tis his drink, Sir, and I am glad his drink has thrust it out.

Mer.

Cannibals? if ever I come to view his Regiment, if fair terms may be had.

Ʋnc.

He tells you true, Sir, they are a bunch of the most boisterous Rascals disorder ever made, let 'em be mad once, the power of the whole Country cannot cool 'em, be patient but a while.

Mer.

As long as you will, Sir, before I buy a bargain of such Runts, I'le buy a Colledge for Bears, and live a∣mong 'em.

Enter Francisco, Lance, Boy with a Torch.

Fran.

How dost thou now?

Lan.

Better than I was, and straighter, but my head's a Hogshead still, it rowls and tumbles.

Fran.

Thou wert cruelly paid.

Lan.

I may live to requite it, put a Snaffle of Sack in my mouth and then ride me very well.

Fran.

'Twas all but sport, I'le tell thee what I mean now, I mean to see this Wench.

Lan.

Where a Devil is she? and there were two, 'twere better.

Fran.

Dost thou hear the Bell ring?

Lan.

Yes, yes.

Fran.

Then she comes to prayers, early each morning thither: Now if I could but meet her, for I am of another mettle now.

Enter Isabel, and Shorthose with a Torch.

Lan.

What light's yon?

Fran.

Ha, 'tis a light, take her by the hand and court her.

Lan.

Take her below the girdle, you'l never speed else, it comes on this way still, oh that I had but such an oppor∣tunity in a Saw-pit, how it comes on, comes on! 'tis here.

Fran.

'Tis she: fortune I kiss thy hand— Good mor∣row Lady.

Isa.

What voice is that, Sirra, do you steep as you go,

'tis he, I am glad ••a't. Why, Shorthose?

Short.

Yes forsooth, I was dreamt, I was going to Church.

Lan.

She sees you as plain as I do.

Isab.

Hold the torch up.

Short.

H••r••'s nothing but a stall, and a Butchers Dog a∣sleep in 't, where did you see the voice?

••••an.

She looks still angry.

I a••.

To her and meet Sir.

I••••b.

Here, here.

••••a••.

Yes Lady, never bless your self, I am but a man, and like an honest man, now I will thank you—

Isab.

What do you mean, who sent for you, who de∣sired you?

Short.

Shall I put out the Torch forsooth?

Isab.

Can I not go about my private meditations, Ha, but such companions as you must ruffle me? you had best go with me Sir?

Fran.

'T was my purpose.

Isab.

Why, what an impudence is this! you had best, being so near the Church, provide a Priest, and perswade me to marry you.

Fran.

It was my meaning, and such a husband, so loving, and so carefull, my youth, and all my fortunes shall arrive at— Hark you?

Isab.

'Tis strange you should be thus unmannerly, turn home again si••••a, you had best now force my man to lead your way.

••••an.

Yes marry shall he Lady, forward my friend.

Isab.

This is a pretty Riot, it may grow to a rape.

Fran.

Do you like that better? I can ravish you an hun∣dred times, and never hurt you.

Short.

I see nothing, I am asleep still, when you have done tell me, and then I'le wake Mistris.

Isab.

Are you in earnest Sir, do you long to be hang'd?

Fran.

Yes by my troth Lady in these fair Tresses.

Isab.

Shall I call out for help?

Fran.

No by no means, that were a weak trick Lady, I'le kiss, and stop your mouth.

Isab.

You'l answer all these?

Fran.

A thousand kisses more.

Isab.

I was never abused thus, you had best give out too, that you sound me willing, and say I doted on you?

Fran.

That's known already, and no man living shall now carry you from me.

Isab.

This is fine i'faith.

Fran.

It shall be ten times finer.

Isab.

Well, seeing you are so valiant, keep your way, I will to Church.

Fran.

And I will wait upon you.

Isab.

And it is most likely there's a Lriest, if you dare venture as you profess, I would wish you look about you, to do these rude tricks, for you know the recompences, and trust not to my mercy.

Fran.

But I will Lady.

Isab.

For I'le so handle you.

Fran.

That's it I look for.

Lan.

Afore thou dream.

Shor.

Have you done?

Isab.

Go on Sir, and follow if you dare.

Fran.

If I do not, hang me.

Lan.

'Tis all thine own boy, an 'twere a million, god a mercy Sack, when would small Beer have done this?

Knocking within. Enter Valentine.

Val.

Whose that that knocks and bounces, what a Devil ails you, is hell broke loose, or do you keep an Iron mill?

Enter a Servant.

Ser.

'Tis a Gentlewoman Sir that must needs speak with you.

Val.

A Gentlewoman? what Gentlewoman, what have I to do with Gentlewomen?

Ser.

She will not be answered Sir.

Val.

Fling up the bed and let her in, I'le try how gentle she is—

Exit Serve••

This Sack has fill'd my head so full of bables, I am a•••• mad; what Gentlewoman should this be? I hope she 〈◊〉〈◊〉 brought me no butter print along with her to lay to •• charge, if she have 'tis all one, I'le forswear it.

Enter Widow.

Wid.

O you're a noble Gallant, send off your Serve•• pray.

Exit Serve••.

Val.

She will not ravish me? by this light she loo•••••• sharp set as a Sparrow hawk, what wouldst thou wom••••?

Wid.

O you have used me kindly, and like a Gentle•••••• this is to trust to you.

Val.

Trust to me, for what?

Wid.

Because I said in jest once, you were a handsom 〈◊〉〈◊〉 one I could like well, and fooling, made you believe I love you, and might be brought to marrie.

Val.

The widow is drunk too.

Wid.

You out of this, which is a fine discretion, give 〈◊〉〈◊〉 the matter's done, you have won and wed me, and t•• you have put, fairly put for an heir too, these are fire ••••¦mours to advance my credit: i'th' name of mischief who did you mean?

Val.

That you loved me, and that you might be broug•••• to marrie me? why, what a Devil do you mean widow?

Wid.

'Twas a fine trick too, to tell the world though you had enjoyed your first wish you wished, the wealth you aimed at, that I was poor, which is most true, I am, ha•••• sold my lands, because I love not those vexations, yet i•• mine honours sake, if you must be prating, and for my cre¦dits sake in the Town.

Val.

I tell thee widow, I like thee ten times better, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 thou hast no Lands, for now thy hopes and cares lye on thy husband, if e're thou marryest more.

Wid.

Have not you married me, and for this main cause now as you report it, to be your Nurse?

Val.

My Nurse? why, what am I grown to, give me the Glass, my Nurse.

Wid.

You n'er said truer, I must confess I did a little fa∣vour you, and with some labour might have been pers••••∣ded, but when I found I must be hourly troubled, with ma••¦ing broths, and dawbing your decayes with swadling, •• with stitching up your ruines, for the world so reports.

Val.

Do not provoke me.

Wid.

And half an eye may see.

Val.

Do not provoke me, the world's a lying world, are thou snalt find it, have a good heart, and take a strong f•••••• to thee, and mark what follows, my Nurse, yes, you 〈◊〉〈◊〉 rock me: Widow I'le keep you waking.

Wid.

You are disposed Sir.

Val.

Yes marry am I Widow, and you shall feel it, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 and they touch my freehold, I am a Tiger.

Wid.

I think so.

Val.

Come.

Wid.

Whither?

Val.

Any whither.

S••••••

The sit's upon me now, the sit's upon me now,

Come quickly gentle Ladie, the sit's upon me now,

The world shall know they're fools,

And so shalt thou do too,

Let the Cobler meddle with his tools,

The sit's upon me now.

Take me quickly, while I am in this vein, away with me for if I have but two hours to consider, all the widows in the world cannot recover me.

Wid.

If you will, go with me Sir.

Val.

Yes marrie will I, but 'tis in anger yet, and I will marrie thee, do not cross me; yes, and I will lie with thee and get a whole bundle of babies, and I will kiss thee, st•••• still and kiss me handsomely, but do not provoke me, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 neither hand nor foot, for I am dangerous, I drunk s•••• yesternight, do not allure me: Thou art no widow of t••••s world, come in pitie, and in spite I'le marrie thee, not a w•••••• more, and I may be brought to love thee.

Exeunt

Enter Merchant, and Uncle, at several doors.

Mer.

Well met again, and what good news yet?

Ʋnc.

Faith nothing.

Mer.

No fruits of what we fowed?

Ʋnc.

Nothing I hear of.

Mer.

No turning in this tide yet?

Ʋnc.

'Tis all flood, and till that fall away, there's no expecting.

Enter Fran. Isab, Lance, Shorthose, a torch.

Mer.

Is not this his younger Brother?

Ʋnc.

With a Gentlewoman the widow's sister, as I live ••e smiles, he has got good hold, why well said Frank i'faith, ••et's stay and mark.

Isab.

Well, you are the prettiest youth, and so you have ••andled me, think you ha' me sure.

Fran.

As sure as wedlock.

Isab.

You had best lie with me too.

Fran.

Yes indeed will I, and get such black ey'd boyes.

Ʋnc.

God a Mercy, Frank.

Isab.

This is a merrie world, poor simple Gentlewomen that think no harm, cannot walk about their business, but they must be catcht up I know not how.

Fran.

I'le tell you, and I'le instruct ye too, have I caught ••ou, Mistress?

Isab.

Well, and it were not for pure pity, I would give ••ou the slip yet, but being as it is.

Fran.

It shall be better.

Enter Valentine, Widow, and Ralph, with a torch.

Isab.

My sister, as I live, your Brother with her! sure, I ••hink you are the Kings takers.

Ʋnc.

Now it works.

Val.

Nay, you shall know I am a man.

Wid.

I think so.

Val.

And such proof you shall have.

Wid.

I pray speak softly.

Val.

I'le speak it out Widow, yes and you shall confess too, I am no Nurse-child, I went for a man, a good one, if you can beat me out o'th' pit.

Wid.

I did but jest with you.

Val.

I'le handle you in earnest, and so handle you: Nay, when my credit calls.

Wid.

Are you mad?

Val.

I am mad, I am mad.

Fran.

Good morrow, Sir, I like your preparation.

Val.

Thou hast been at it, Frank.

Fran.

Yes faith, 'tis done Sir.

Val.

Along with me then, never hang an arf••, widow

Isab.

'Tis to no purpose, sister.

Val.

Well said Black-brows, advance your torches Gentlemen.

Ʋnc.

Yes, yes Sir.

Val.

And keep your ranks.

Mer.

Lance, carrie this before him.

Ʋnc.

Carrie it in state.

Enter Musicians, Fount. Hare. Bel.

Val.

What are you, Musicians? I know your coming, and what are those behind you?

Musi.

Gentlemen that sent us to give the Lady a good morrow.

Val.

O I know them, come boy sing the song I taught you,

And sing it lustily, come forward Gentlemen, you're welcom,

Welcom, now we are all friends, go get the Priest ready,

And let him not be long, we have much business:

Come Frank, rejoyce with me, thou hast got the start boy,

But I'le so tumble after, come my friends lead,

Lead cheerfully, and let your Fiddles ring boyes,

My follies and my fancies have an end here,

Display the morgage Lance, Merchant I'le pay you,

And every thing shall be in joynt again.

Ʋnc.

Afore, afore.

Val.

And now confess, and know,

Wit without Money, sometimes gives the blow.

Exeunt.