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 Dinant, and Cleremont.

Din.

DIsswade me not.

Clere.

It will breed a brawl.

Din.

I care not, I wear a Sword.

Cler.

And wear discretion with it, Or cast it off, let that direct your arm, 'Tis madness else, not valour, and more base Than to receive a wrong.

Din.

Why would you have me Sit down with a disgrace, and thank the doer? We are not Stoicks, and that passive courage Is only now commendable in Lackies, Peasants, and Tradesmen, not in men of rank And qualitie, as I am.

Cler.

Do not cherish That daring vice, for which the whole age suffers. The blood of our bold youth, that heretofore Was spent in honourable action, Or to defend, or to enlarge the Kingdom, For the honour of our Country, and our Prince, Pours it self out with prodigal expence

Upon our Mothers lap, the Earth that bred us For every trifle; and these private Duells, Which had their first original from the Frcenh (And for which, to this day, we are justly censured) Are banisht from all civil Governments: Scarce three in Venice, in as many years; In Forence, they are rarer, and in all The fair Dominions of the Spanish King, They are never heard of: Nay, those neighbour Countries, Which gladly imitate our other follies, And come at a dear rate to buy them of us, Begin now to detest them.

Din.

Will you end yet —

Cler.

And I have heard that some of our late Kings, For the lie, wearing of a Mistris favour, A cheat at Cards or Dice, and such like causes, Have lost as many gallant Gentlemen, As might have met the great Turk in the field With confidence of a glorious Victorie, And shall we then —

Din.

No more, for shame no more, Are you become a Patron too? 'tis a new one, No more on't, burn't, give it to some Orator, To help him to enlarge his exercise, With such a one it might do well, and profit The Curat of the Parish, but for Cleremont, The bold, and undertaking Cleremont, To talk thus to his friend, his friend that knows him, Dinant that knows his Cleremont, is absurd, And meer Apocrypha.

Cler.

Why, what know you of me?

Din.

Why if thou hast forgot thy self, I'le tell thee, And not look back, to speak of what thou wert At fifteen, for at those years I have heard Thou wast flesh'd, and enter'd bravely.

Cler.

Well Sir, well.

Din.

But yesterday, thou wast the common second, Of all that only knew thee, thou hadst bills Set up on every post, to give thee notice Where any difference was, and who were parties; And as to save the charges of the Law Poor men seek arbitrators, thou wert chosen By such as knew thee not, to compound quarrels: But thou wert so delighted with the sport, That if there were no just cause, thou wouldst make one, Or be engag'd thy self: This goodly calling Thou hast followed five and twenty years, and studied The Criticismes of contentions, and art thou In so few hours transform'd? certain this night Thou hast had strange dreams, or rather visions.

Clere.

Yes, Sir, I have seen fools, and fighters, chain'd together, And the Fighters had the upper hand, and whipt first, The poor Sots laughing at 'em: What I have been It skils not, what I will be is resolv'd on.

Din.

Why then you'l fight no more?

Cler.

Such is my purpose.

Din.

On no occasion?

Cler.

There you stagger me. Some kind of wrongs there are which flesh and blood Cannot endure.

Din.

Thou wouldst not willingly Live a protested coward, or be call'd one?

Cler.

Words are but words.

Din.

Nor wouldst thou take a blow?

Cler.

Not from my friend, though drunk, and from an enemy I think much less.

Din.

There's some hope of thee left then, Wouldst thou hear me behind my back disgrac'd?

Cler.

Do you think I am a rogue? they that should do it Had better been born dumb.

Din.

Or in thy presence See me o'recharg'd with odds?

Cler.

I'd fall my self first.

Din.

Would'st thou endure thy Mistris be taken from thee, And thou sit quiet?

Cler.

There you touch my honour, No French-man can endure that.

Dic.

Pl — upon thee, Why dost thou talk of Peace then? that da••••s•• ••••llet Nothing, or in thy self, or in thy friend That is unmanly?

Cler.

That I grant, I cannot: But I'le not quarrel with this Gentleman For wearing slammel Breeches, or this Gamester For playing a thousand pounds, that owes me nothing; For this mans taking up a common Wench In raggs, and lowsie, then maintaining her Caroach'd in cloth of Tissue, nor five hundred Of such like toyes, that at no part concern me; Marry, where my honour, o•• my friend is questioned, I have a Sword, and I think I may use it To the cutting of a Rascals throat, or so, Like a good Christian.

Din.

Thou art of a fine Religion, And rather than we'l make a Schism in friendship I will be of it: But to be serious, Thou art acquainted with my tedious love suit To fair Lamira?

Cler.

Too well Sir, and remember Your presents, courtship, that's too good a name, Your slave-like services, your morning musique; Your walking three hours in the rain at midnight, To see her at her window, sometimes laugh'd at, Sometimes admitted, and vouchsaf'd to kiss Her glove, her skirt, nay, I have heard, her slippers, How then you triumph'd? Here was love forsooth.

Din.

These follies I deny not, Such a contemptible thing my dotage made me, But my reward for this —

Cler.

As you deserv'd, For he that makes a goddess of a Puppet, Merits no other recompence.

Din.

This day friend, For thou art so —

Cler.

I am no flatterer.

Din.

This proud, ingratefull she, is married to Lame Champernel.

Cler.

I know him, he has been As tall a Sea-man, and has thriv'd as well by't, The loss of a legg and an arm deducted, as any That ever put from Marseilles: you are tame, Pl—on't, it mads me; if it were my case, I should kill all the family.

Din.

Yet but now You did preach patience.

Cler.

I then came from confession, And 'twas enjoyn'd me three hours for a penance, To be a peaceable man, and to talk like one, But now, all else being pardon'd, I begin On a new Tally, Foot do any thing, I'le second you.

Din.

I would not willingly Make red, my yet white conscience, yet I purpose In the open street, as they come from the Temple, (For this way they must pass,) to speak my wrongs, And do it boldly.

Musick playes.

Cler.

Were thy tongue a Cannon, I would stand by thee, boy, they come, upon 'em.

Din.

Observe a little first.

Cler.

This is fine fidling.

Enter Vertaign, Champernel, Lamira, Nurse, Beaupre, Verdore. An Epithalamium.

SONG at the Wedding.

COme away, bring on the Bride And place her by her Lovers side: Yo•• fair troop of Maids attend her, Pure and holy thoughts befriend her. Blush, and wish, you Virgins all, Many such fair nights may fall.

Chorus.

Hymen, fill the house with joy, All thy sacred fires employ: Bless the Bed with holy love, Now fair orb of Beauty move.

Din.

Stand by, for I'le be heard.

Verta.

This is strange rudeness.

Din.

'Tis courtship, ballanced with injuries, You all look pale with guilt, but I will dy Your cheeks with blushes, if in your scar'd veins There yet remain so much of honest blood To make the colour; first to ye my Lord, The Father of this Bride, whom you have sent Alive into her grave.

Champ.

How? to her grave?

Dina.

Be patient Sir, I'le speak of you anon You that allow'd me liberal access, To make my way with service, and approv'd of My birth, my person, years, and no base fortune: You that are rich, and but in this held wise too, That as a Father should have look'd upon Your Daughter in a husband, and aim'd more At what her youth, and heat of blood requir'd In lawfull pleasures, than the parting from Your Crowns to pay her dowr: you that already Have one foot in the grave, yet study profit, As if you were assur'd to live here ever; What poor end had you, in this choice? in what Deserve I your contempt? my house, and honours At all parts equal yours, my lame as fair, And not to praise my self, the City ranks me In the first file of her most hopefull Gentry: But Champernel is rich, and needs a nurse, And not your gold: and add to that, ••e's old too, His whole estate in likelihood to descend Upon your Family; Here was providence, I grant, but in a Nobleman base thrift: No Merchants nay, no Pirats, sell for Bondmen Their Country-men, but you, a Gentleman, To save a little gold, have sold your Daughter To worse than slaverie.

Cler.

This was spoke home indeed.

Beau.

Sir, I shall take some other time to tell you, That this harsh language was delivered to An old man, but my Father.

Din.

At your pleasure.

Cler.

Proceed in your design, let me alone, To answer him, or any man.

Verd.

You presume Too much upon your name, but may be couzen'd.

Din.

But for you, most unmindfull of my service, For now I may upbraid you, and with honour, Since all is lost, and yet I am a gainer, In being deliver'd from a torment in you, For such you must have been, you to whom nature Gave with a liberal hand most excellent form, Your education, language, and discourse, And judgement to distinguish, when you shall With feeling sorrow understand how wretched And miserable you have made your self, And but your self have nothing to accuse, Can you with hope from any beg compassion? But you will say, you serv'd your Fathers pleasure, Forgetting that unjust commands of Parents Are not to be obey'd, or that you are rich, And that to wealth all pleasure else are servants, Yet but consider, how this wealth was purchas'd, 'Twill trouble the possession.

Champ.

You Sir know I got it, and with honour.

Din.

But from whom? Remember that, and how: you'l come indeed To houses bravely furnish'd, but demanding Where it was bought, this Souldier will not lie, But answer truly, this rich cloth of Arras I made my prize in such a Ship, this Plate Was my share in another; these fair Jewels, Coming a shore, I got in such a Village, The Maid, or Matron kill'd, from whom they were ravish'd, The Wines you drink are guilty too, for this, This Candie Wine, three Merchants were undone, These Suckets break as many more: in brief, All you shall wear, or touch, or see, is purchas'd By lawless force, and you but revel in The tears, and grones of such as were the owners.

Champ.

'Tis false, most basely false.

Verta.

Let losers talk.

Din.

Lastly, those joyes, those best of joyes, which Hymen Freely bestows on such, that come to tye The sacred knot he blesses, won unto it By equal love, and mutual affection, Not blindly led with the desire of riches, Most miserable you shall never taste of. ••his Marriage night you'l meet a Widows bed, Or failing of those pleasures all Brides look for, Sin in your wish it were so.

Champ.

Thou art a Villain, A base, malitious slanderer.

Cler.

Strike him.

Din.

No, he is not worth a blow.

Champ.

O that I had thee In some close vault, that only would yield room To me to use my Sword, to thee no hope To run away, I would make thee on thy knees, Bite out the tongue that wrong'd me.

Verta.

Pray you have patience.

Lamira.

This day I am to be your Soveraign, Let me command you.

Champ.

I am lost with rage, And know not what I am my self, nor you: Away, dare such as you, that love the smoke Of peace more than the fire of glorious War, And like unprofitable drones, feed on Your grand••ires labours, that, as I am now, Were gathering Bees, and fill'd their Hive, this Country With brave triumphant spoils, censure our actions? You object my prizes to me, had you seen The horrour of a Sea-sight, with what danger I made them mine; the fire I fearless fought in, And quench'd it in mine enemies blood, which straight Like oyle pour'd out on't, made it burn anew; My Deck blown up, with noise enough to mock The lowdest thunder, and the desperate fools That Boorded me, sent, to desie the tempests That were against me, to the angrie Sea, Frighted with men thrown o're; no victory, But in despight of the four Elements, The Fire, the Air, the Sea, and sands hid in it To be atchiev'd, you would confess poor men, (Though hopeless, such an honourable way To get or wealth, or honour) in your selves He that through all these dreadfull passages Pursued and overtook them, unaffrighted,

Deserves reward, and not to have it stil'd By the base name of theft.

Din.

This is the Courtship, That you must look for, Madam.

Cler.

'Twill do well, When nothing can be done, to spend the night with: Your tongue is sound good Lord, and I could wish For this young Ladyes sake this leg, this arm, And there is something else, I will not name, (Though 'tis the only thing that must content her) Had the same vigour.

Champ.

You shall buy these scoffs With your best blood: help me once noble anger, (Nay stir not, I alone must right my self) And with one leg transport me, to correct These scandalous praters: O that noble wounds

Falls.

Should hinder just revenge? D'ye jear me too? I got these, not as you do, your diseases In Brothels, or with riotous abuse Of wine in Taverns; I have one leg shot, One arm disabled, and am honour'd more, By losing them, as I did, in the face Of a brave enemy, than if they were As when I put to Sea; you are French-men only, In that you have been laied, and cur'd, goe to: You mock my leg, but every bone about you, Makes you good Almanack-makers, to foretell What weather we shall have.

Din.

Put up your Sword,

Cler.

Or turn it to a Crutch, there't may by usefull, And live on the relation to your Wife Of what a brave man you were once.

Din.

And tell her, What a fine vertue 'tis in a young Lady To give an old man pap.

Cer.

Or hire a Surgeon To teach her to roul up your broken limbs.

Din.

To make a Pultess, and endure the scent Of oils, and nasty Plasters.

Verta.

Fie Sir, fie, You that have stood all dangers of all kinds, to Yield to a Rivalls scoffe?

Lamira.

Shed tears upon Your Wedding day? this is unmanly Gentlemen.

Champ.

They are tears of anger: O that I should live To play the woman thus! All powerfull heaven, Restore me, but one hour, that strength again, That I had once, to chastise in these men Their folies, and ill manners, and that done, When you please, I'le yield up the fort of life, And do it gladly.

Cler.

We ha' the better of him, We ha' made him cry.

Verdo.

You shall have satisfaction. And I will do it nobly, or disclaim me.

Beaup.

I say no more, you have a Brother, Sister, This is your wedding day, we are in the street, And howsoever they forget their honour, 'Tis fit I lose not mine, by their example.

Vert.

If there be Laws in Paris, look to answer This insolent affront.

Cler.

You that live by them, Study 'em for heavens sake; for my part I know not Nor care not what they are. Is their ought else That you would say?

Din.

Nothing, I have my ends. Lamira weeps, I have said too much I fear; So dearly once I lov'd her, that I cannot Endure to see her tears.

Exeunt Dinant, and Cleremont.

Champ.

See you perform it, And do it like my Nephew.

Verdo.

If I fail in't Ne'r know me more, Cousin Beaupre.

Champ.

Repent not What thou hast done, my life, thou shalt not find I am decrepit; in my love and service, I will be young, and constant, and believe me, For thou shalt find it true, in s••orn of all The scandals th••se rude men have thrown upon me I'le meet thy pleasures with a young mans ardour, And in all circumstances of a Husband, Perform my part.

Lamira.

Good Sir, I am your s••rv••nt, And 'tis too late now, i•• I did repent, (Which as I am a virgin yet, I do not) To undoe the ••not, that by the Church is tyed. Only I would beseech ye, as you have A good opinion of me, and my vertues, For so you have pleas'd to stile my innocent weakness, That what hath pass'd be w••en Dinant and me, Or what now in your hearing he hath spoken, Beget not doubts, or fears.

Champ.

I apprehend you, You think I will be jealous; as I live Thou art mistaken sweet; and to confirm it Discourse with whom thou wilt, ride where thou wilt, Feast whom thou wilt, as often as thou wilt, For I will have no other guards upon thee Than thine own thoughts.

Lamira.

I'le use this liberty With moderation Sir.

Beaup.

I am resolv'd. Steal off, I'le follow you.

Champ.

Come Sir, you droop; Till you find cause, which I shall never give, Dislike not of your Son in Law.

Verta

Sir, you teach me The language I should use; I am most happy In being so near you.

Exeunt Verdone, and Beaupre.

Lamira.

O my fears! good nurse Follow my Brother unobserv'd, and learn Which way he takes.

Nurs.

I will be carefull Madam.

Exit Nurse.

Champ.

Between us complements are superfluous, On Gentlemen, th' affront we have met here We'l think upon hereafter, 'twere unfit To cherish any thought to breed unrest, Or to our selves, or to our Nuptial feast.

Exeunt.

Enter Dinant, and Cleremont.

Cler.

We shall have sport, ne'r fear't.

Din.

What sport I prethee?

Cler.

Why we must fight, I know it, and I long ••or't, It was apparent in the fiery eye Of young Verdo••e, Beaupre look'd pale and shook too, Familiar signs of anger. They are both brave fellows Tri'd and approv'd, and I am proud to encounter With men, from whom no honour can be lost; They will play up to a man, and set him off. When e're I go to the field, heaven keep me from The meeting of an unflesh'd youth or, Coward, The first, to get a name, comes on too hot, The Coward is so swift in giving ground, There is no overtaking him without A hunting Nag, well breath'd too.

Din.

All this while, You ne'r think on the danger.

Cler.

Why 'tis no more Than meeting of a dozen friends at Supper, And drinking hard; mischief comes there unlook'd for, I am sure as suddain, and strikes home as often, For this we are prepar'd.

Din.

Lamira Loves Her Brother Beaupre dearly.

Cler.

What of that?

Din.

And should he call me to account for what But now I spake, nor can I with mine honour Recant my words, that little hope is left me, E're to enjoy what (next to Heaven) I long for,

Is taken from me.

C••er.

Why what can you hope for, She being now married?

Din.

Oh my Cleremont, To you all secrets of my heart lye open, And I rest most secure that whatsoe're I lo••k up there, is as a private thought, And will no farther wrong me. I am a French-man, And for the greater part we are born Courtiers, She is a woman, and however yet No heat of service had the power to melt Her frozen Chastity, time and opportunitie May work her to my ends, I confess ill ones, And yet I must pursue 'em: now her marriage, In probabilitie, will no way hurt, But rather help me.

Cler.

Sits the wind there? pray you tell me How far off dwells your love from lust?

Din.

Too near, But prethee chide me not.

Cler.

Not I, goe on boy, I have faults my self, and will not reprehend A crime I am not free from: for her Marriage, I do esteem it (and most batchellors are Of my opinion) as a fair protection, To play the wanton without loss of honour.

Din.

Would she make use of't so, I were most happy.

Cler.

No more of this, Judge now, Whether I have the gift of prophecie.

Enter Beaupre, and Verdone.

Beaup.

Monsieur Dinant, I am glad to find you, Sir.

Din.

I am at your service.

Verd.

Good Monsieur Cleremont, I have long wish'd To be known better to you.

Cler.

My desires Embrace your wishes Sir.

Beaup.

Sir, I have ever Esteem'd you truly noble, and profess I should have been most proud, to have had the honour To call you Brother, but my Fathers pleasure Denied that happiness. I know no man lives, That can command his passions, and therefore Dare not condemn the late intemperate language You were pleas'd to use to my Father and my Sister, He's old and she a woman, I most sorrie My honour does compel me to entreat you, To do me the favour, with your sword to meet me A mile without the Citie.

Din.

You much honour me In the demand, I'le gladly wait upon you.

Beaup.

O Sir you teach me what to say: the time?

Din.

With the next Sun, if you think fit.

Beaup.

The place?

Din.

Near to the vineyard eastward from the Citie.

Beaup.

I like it well, this Gentleman if you please Will keep me company.

Cler.

That is agreed on; And in my friends behalf I will attend him.

Verd.

You shall not miss my service.

Beaup.

Good day Gentlemen.

Ex. Beaup. and Verd.

Din.

At your Commandment.

Cler.

Proud to be your servants. I think there is no Nation under Heaven That cut their enemies throats with complement, And such fine tricks as we do: If you have Any few Prayers to say, this night you may Call 'em to mind and use 'em, for my self, As I have little to lose, my care is less, So till to morrow morning I bequeath you To your devotions; and those paid, but use That noble courage I have seen, and wo Shall sight, as in a Castle.

Din.

Thou art all honour, Thy resolution would steel a Coward, And I most fortunate in such a Friend; All tenderness and nice respect of woman Be now far from me, reputation take A full possession of my heart, and prove Honour the first place holds, the second Love.

Ex••u••••

Enter Lamira, Charlote.

Lami.

Sleeps my Lord still, Charlote?

Char.

Not to be wak'd. By your Ladiships cheerfull looks I well perceive That this night the good Lord hath been At an unusual service, and no wonder If he rest after it.

Lamira.

You are very bold.

Char.

Your Creature Madam, and when you are pleas'd Sadness to me's a stranger, your good pardon If I speak like a fool, I could have wisht To have ta'ne your place to night, had bold Dinant Your first and most obsequious servant tasted Those delicates, which by his lethargie As it appears, have cloy'd my Lord.

Lamira.

No more.

Charl.

I am silenc'd, Madam.

Lamira.

Saw you my nurse this morning?

Charl.

No, Madam.

Lamira.

I am full of fears.

Knock within.

Who's that?

Charl.

She you enquir'd for.

Lamira.

Bring her in, and leave me.

Exit Charlote.

Now nurse what news?

Enter Nurse.

Nurse.

O Ladie dreadfull ones. They are to fight this morning, there's no remedie. I saw my Lord your Brother, and Verdone Take horse as I came by.

Lamira.

Where's Cleremont?

Nurse.

I met him too, and mounted.

Lamira.

Where's Dinant?

Nurse.

There's all the hope, I have staid him with a trick, If I have done well so.

Lamira.

What trick?

Nurse.

I told him, Your Ladiship laid your command upon him, To attend you presently, and to confirm it, Gave him the ring he oft hath seen you wear, That you bestowed on me: he waits without Disguis'd, and if you have that power in him, As I presume you have, it is in you To stay or alter him.

Lamira.

Have you learnt the place, Where they are to encounter?

Nurse.

Yes 'tis where The Duke of Burgundie met Lewis th' eleventh.

Lamir.

Enough, I will reward thee liberally,

Exit Nurse.

Goe bring him in: full dear I loved Dinant, While it was lawfull, but those fires are quench'd, I being now anothers, truth forgive me And let dissimulation be no crime, Though most unwillingly I put it on To guard a Brothers safetie.

Enter Dinant.

Din.

Now your pleasure, Though ill you have deserv'd it, you perceive I am still your fool, and cannot but obey What ever you command.

Lamira.

You speak, as if You did repent it, and 'tis not worth my thanks then, But there has been a time, in which you would Receive this as a favour.

Din.

Hope was left then Of recompence.

Lamira.

Why I am still Lamira, And you Dinant, and 'tis yet in my power, I dare not say I'le put it into act, To reward your love and service.

Din.

There's some comfort.

Lami.

But think not that so low I prize my fame, To give it up to any man that refuses To buy it, or with danger of performance Of what I shall enjoin him.

Din.

Name that danger Be it of what horrid shape soever Ladie Which I will shrink at; only at this instant Be speedie in't.

Lamira.

I'le put you to the trial: You shall not light to day, do you start at that? Not with my Brother, I have heard your difference, Mine is no Helens beauty to be purchas'd With blood, and so defended, if you look for Favours from me, deserve them with obedience, There's no way else to gain 'em.

Din.

You command What with mine honour I cannot obey Which lies at pawn against it, and a friend Equally dear as that, or life, engag'd, Not for himself, but me.

Lamira.

Why, foolish man, Dare you solicite me to serve your lust, In which not only I abuse my Lord, My Father, and my family, but write whore, Though not upon my forehead, in my conscience, To be read hourly, and yet name your honour? Yours suffers but in circumstance; mine in substance. If you obey me, you part with some credit, From whom? the giddy multitude; but mankind Will censure me, and justly.

Din.

I will lose, What most I do desire, rather than hazard So dear a friend, or write my self a coward, 'Tis better be no man.

Lamira.

This will not do; Why, I desire not, you should be a coward, Nor do I weigh my Brothers life with yours, Meet him, fight with him, do, and kill him fairly, Let me not suffer for you, I am careless.

Din.

Suffer for me?

Lamira.

For you, my kindness to you Already brands me with a strumpets name.

Din.

O that I knew the wretch!

Lamira.

I will not name him, Nor give you any Character to know him; But if you dare, and instantly ride forth At the west port of the City, and defend there My reputation, against all you meet, For two hours only, I'le not swear Dinant, To satisfie, (though sure I think I shall) What ever you desire, if you denie this, Be desperate, for willingly, by this light, I'le never see thee more.

Din

Two hours, do you say?

Lamira.

Only two hours.

Din.

I were no Gentleman, Should I make scruple of it; this favour arms me, And boldly I'll perform it.

Exit.

Lamira.

I am glad on't. This will prevent their meeting yet, and keep My Brother safe, which was the mark I shot at.

Exit.