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 divers Monks, Alphonso going to the Tomb, Rugio, and Frier Marco, discover the Tomb and a Chair.

Mar.

THe night grows on, lead softly to the Tomb, And sing not till I bid ye; let the Musick Play gently as he passes.

Rug.

O fair picture, That wert the living hope of all our honours; How are we banisht from the joy we dreamt of? Will he ne're speak more?

Mar.

'Tis full three moneths Lord Rugio, Since any articulate sound came from his tongue, Set him down gently.

Sits in a Chair.

Rug.

What should the reason be Sir?

Mar.

As 'tis in nature with those loving Husbands, That sympathize their wives pains, and their throes When they are breeding, and 'tis usuall too, We have it by experience; so in him Sir, In this most noble spirit that now suffers; For when his honour'd Father good Brandino Fell sick, he felt the griefs, and labour'd with them, His fits and his disease he still inherited, Grew the same thing, and had not nature check'd him, Strength, and ability, he had dyed that hour too.

Rug.

Embleme or noble love!

Mar.

That very minute His Fathers breath forsook him, that same instant, A rare example of his piety, And love paternal, the Organ of his tongue. Was never heard to sound again; so near death He seeks to wait upon his worthy Father, But that we force his meat, he were one body.

Rug.

He points to'th' Tomb.

Mar.

That is the place he honours, A house I fear he will not be long out of. He will toth' Tomb, good my Lord lend your hand; How sing the Funeral Song, and let him kneel, For then he is pleas'd.

A Song.

Rug.

Heaven lend thy powerfull hand, And ease this Prince.

Mar.

He will pass back again.

Exeunt.

Enter Valerio.

Val.

They drink abundantly, I am hot with wine too, Lustily warm, I'le steal now to my happiness, 'Tis midnight, and the silent hour invites me, But she is up still, and attends the Queen; Thou dew of wine and sleep hang on their eye-lids, Steep their dull senses in the healths they drink, That I may quickly find my lov'd Evanthe. The King is merry too, and drank unto me, Sign of fair peace, O this nights blessedness! If I had forty heads I would give all for't. Is not the end of our ambitions, Of all our humane studies, and our travels, Of our desires, the obtaining of our wishes? Certain it is, and there man makes his Center. I have obtain'd Evanthe, I have married her, Can any fortune keep me from injoying her?

Enter Sorano.

I have my wish, what's left me to accuse now? I am friends with all the world, but thy base malice; Go glory in thy mischiefs thou proud man, And cry it to the world thou hast ruin'd vertue;

Flow I contemn thee and thy petty malice! And with what scorn, I look down on thy practice!

Sor.

You'l sing me a new Song anon Valerio, And wish these hot words—

Val.

I despise thee fellow, Thy threats, or flatteries, all I fling behind me; I have my end, I have thy noble Sister, A name too worthy of thy blood; I have married her, And will injoy her too.

Sor.

'Tis very likely.

Val.

And that short moneth I have to bless me with her I'le make an age, I'le reckon each embrace A year of pleasure, and each night a Jubile, Every quick kiss a Spring; and when I mean To lose my self in all delightfulness, Twenty sweet Summers I will tye together In spight of thee, and thy malignant Master: I will dye old in love, though young in pleasure.

Sor.

But that I late thee deadly, I could pity thee, Thou art the poorest miserable thing This day on earth; I'le tell thee why Valerio, All thou esteemest, and build'st upon for happiness, For joy, for pleasure, for delight is past thee, And like a wanton dream already vanisht.

Val.

Is my love false?

Sor.

No, she is constant to thee, Constant to all thy misery she shall be, And curse thee too.

Val.

Is my strong body weakn'd, Charm'd, or abus'd with subtle drink? speak villain.

Sor.

Neither, I dare speak, thou art still as lusty As when thou lov'dst her first, as strong and hopefull, The month thou hast given thee is a month of misery, And where thou think'st each hour shall yield a pleasure, Look for a killing pain, for thou shalt find it Before thou dyest, each minute shall prepare it, And ring so many knels to sad afflictions; The King has given thee a long month to dye in, And miserably dye.

Val.

Undo thy Riddle, I am prepar'd what ever ••ate shall follow.

Sor.

Dost thou see this Ring?

Val.

I know it too.

Sor.

Then mark me, By vertue of this Ring this I pronounce to thee, 'Tis the Kings will.

Val.

Let me know it suddenly.

Sor.

If thou dost offer to touch Evanthes body Beyond a kiss, though thou art married to her, And lawfully as thou think'st may'st injoy her, That minute she shall dye.

Val.

O Devil —

Sor.

If thou discover this command unto her, Or to a friend that shall importune thee, And why thou abstainest, and from whose will, ye all perish, Upon the self-same forfeit: are ye fitted Sir? Now if ye love her, ye may preserve her life still, If not, you know the worst, how falls your month out?

Val.

This tyranny could never be invented But in the school of Hell, Earth is too innocent; Not to injoy her when she is my wife? When she is willing too?

Sor.

She is most willing, And will run mad to miss; but if you hit her, Be sure you hit her home, and kill her with it; There are such women that will dye with pleasure: The Are will follow else, that will not fail To fetch her Maiden head, and dispatch her quickly; Then shall the world know you are the cause of Murther, And as 'tis requisite your life shall pay for't

Val.

Thou dost but jest, thou canst not be so monstrous As thou proclaim'st thy self; thou art her Brother, And there must be a feeling heart within thee Of her afflictions; wert thou a stranger to us, And bred amongst wild rocks, thy nature wild too, Affection in thee as thy breeding, cold, And unrelenting as the rocks that nourisht thee, Yet thou must shake to tell me this; they tremble When the rude sea threatens divorce amongst 'em, They that are senceless things shake at a tempest; Thou art a man —

Sor.

Be thou too then, 'twill try thee, And patience now will best become thy nobleness.

Val.

Invent some other torment to afflict me, All, if thou please, put all afflictions on me, Study thy brains out for 'em, so this be none I care not of what nature, nor what cruelty, Nor of what length.

Sor.

This is enough to vex ye.

Val.

The tale of Tantalus is now prov'd true, And from me shall be registred Authentick; To have my joyes within my arms, and lawfull, Mine own delights, yet dare not touch. Even as thou hatest me Brother, let no young man know this, As thou shalt hope for peace when thou most needest it, Peace in thy soul, desire the King to kill me, Make me a traitor, any thing, I'le yield to it, And give thee cause so I may dye immediately; Lock me in Prison where no Sun may see me, In wails so thick no hope may e're come at me; Keep me from meat, and drink, and sleep, I'le bless thee; Give me some damned potion to deliver me, That I may never know my self again, forget My Country, kindred, name and fortune; last, That my chaste love may never appear before me, This were some comfort.

Sor.

All I have I have brought ye, And much good may it do ye my dear Brother, See ye observe it well; you will find about ye Many eyes set, that shall o're-look your actions, If you transgress ye know, and so I leave ye.

Exit.

Val.

Heaven be not angry, and I have some hope yet.

Exit.

Enter Frederick, and Sorano.

Fred.

Hast thou been with him?

Sor.

Yes, and given him that Sir Will make him curse his Birth; I told ye which way. Did you but see him Sir, but look upon him, With what a troubled and dejected nature He walks now in a mist, with what a silence, As if he were the shrowd he wrapt himself in, And no more of Valerio but his shadow, He seeks obscurity to hide his thoughts in, You would wonder and admire for all you know it, His jollity is down, valed to the ground Sir, And his high hopes of full delights and pleasures Are turn'd tormenters to him, strong diseases.

Fred.

But is there hope of her?

Sor.

It must fall necessary, She must dislike him, quarrel with his person, For women once deluded are next Devils, And in the height of that opinion Sir, You shall put on again, and she must meet ye.

Fred.

I am glad of this.

Sor.

I'le tell ye all the circumstance Within this hour, but sure I heard your grace To day as I attended, make some stops, Some broken speechs, and some sighs between, And then your Brothers name I heard distinctly, And some sad wishes after.

Fred.

Ye are i'th' right Sir, I would he were as sad as I could wish him, Sad as the Earth.

Sor.

Would ye have it so?

Fred.

Thou hearest me, Though he be sick with small hope of recovery, That hope still lives, and mens eyes live upon it,

And in their eye their wishes; my Sorano, Were he but cold once in the tomb he dotes on, As 'tis the fittest place for melancholy, My Comt should be another Paradise, And flow with all delights.

Sor.

Go to your pleasures, let me alone with this, Hope shall not trouble ye, nor he three dayes.

Fred.

I shall be bound unto thee.

Enter Valerio, Camillo, Cleanthes, Menallo.

Sor.

I'le do it neatly too, no doubt shall catch me.

Fred.

Be gone, they are going to bed, I'le bid good night to 'em.

Sor.

And mark the man, you'l scarce know 'tis Valerio.

Exit.

Cam.

Chear up my noble Lord, the minute's come, You shall injoy the abstract of all sweetness, We did you wrong, you need no wine to warm ye, Desire shoots through your eyes like sudden wild-fires.

Val.

Beshrew me Lords, the wine has made me dull, I am I know not what.

Fred.

Good pleasure to ye, Good night and long too, as you find your appetite You may fall to.

Val.

I do beseech your grace, For which of all my loves and services Have I deserved this?

Fred.

I am not bound to answer ye.

Val.

Nor I bound to obey in unjust actions.

Fred.

Do as you please, you know the penalty, And as I have a soul it shall be executed; Nay look not pale, I am not used to fear Sir, If you respect your Lady, good night to ye.

Exit.

Val.

But for respect to her and to my duty, That reverent duty that I owe my Soveragin, Which anger has no power to snatch me from, The good night should be thine; good night for ever. The King is wanton Lords, he would needs know of me How many nick chases I would make to night.

Men.

My Lord, no doubt you'l prove a perfect gamester.

Val.

Faith no, I am unacquainted with the pleasure, Bungle a set I may: how my heart trembles, And beats my breast as it would break his way out! Good night my noble friends.

Cle.

Nay we must see you toward your bed my Lord.

Val.

Good faith it needs not, 'Tis late, and I shall trouble you.

Cam.

No, no, till the Bride come Sir.

Val.

I beseech you leave me, You will make me bashfull else, I am so foolish, Besides, I have some few devotions Lords, And he that can pray with such a book in's arms—

Can.

We'l leave ye then, and a sweet night wait upon ye.

Men.

And a sweet issue of this sweet night crown ye.

Cle.

All nights and days be such till you grow old Sir.

Exeunt Lords.

Val.

I thank ye, 'tis a curse sufficient for me, A labour'd one too, though you mean a blessing. What shall I do? I am like a wretched Debtor, That has a summe to tender on the forfeit Of all he is worth, yet da••e not offer it. Other men see the Sun, yet I must wink at it; And though I know 'tis perfect day, deny it: My veins are all on fire, and burn like Aetna, Youth and desire beat ••a••ums to my blood, And adde fresh fu•••• to my warm a affections, I must injoy her, yet when I consider, When I collect my self, and weigh her danger, The tyrants will, and his power taught to murther, My tender care controlls my blood within me, And like a cold fit of a peevish Ague Creeps to my soul, and stings an see upon me,

Enter Queen, Evanthe, Ladies, and Fool.

That locks all powers of youth up: but prevention— O what a blessedness 'twere to be old now, To be unable, bed-rid with diseases, Or halt on Crutches to meet holy Hymen; What a rare benefit! but I am curst, That that speaks other men most freely happy And makes all eyes hang on their expectations Must prove the bane of me, youth, and ability. She comes to bed, how shall I entertain her?

Tony.

Nay I come after too, take the fool with ye, For lightly he is ever one at Weddings.

Queen.

Evanthe, make ye unready, your Lord staies for ye, And prethee be merry.

Tony.

Be very merry, Chicken, Thy Lord will pipe to thee anon, and make thee dance too.

Lady.

Will he so, good-man ass?

Tony.

Yes good silly, And you had such a Pipe, that piped so sweetly, You would dance to death, you have learnt your sinque a pace.

Evan.

Your grace desires that that is too free in me, I am merry at the heart.

Tony.

Thou wilt be anon, the young smug boy will give thee a sweet cordial.

Evan.

I am so taken up in all my thoughts, So possest Madam with the lawfull sweets I shall this night partake of with my Lord, So far transported (pardon my immodesty.)

Val.

Alas poor wench, how shall I recompence thee?

Evan.

That though they must be short, and snatcht away too, E're they grow ripe, yet I shall far prefer 'em Before a tedious pleasure with repentance.

Val.

O how my heart akes!

Evan.

Take off my Jewels Ladies, And let my Ruff loose, I shall bid good night to ye, My Lord staies here.

Queen.

My wench, I thank thee heartily, For learning how to use thy few hours handsomly, They will be years I hope; off with your Gown now, Lay down the bed there?

Tony.

Shall I get into it and warm it for thee? a fools fire is a fine thing, And I'le so buss thee.

Queen.

I'le have ye whipt ye Rascal.

Tony.

That will provoke me more, I'le talk with thy husband, He's a wise man I hope.

Evan.

Good night dear Madam, Ladies, no further service, I am well, I do beseech your grace to give us this leave, My Lord and I to one another freely, And privately, may do all other Ceremonies, Women and Page we'l be to one another, And trouble you no farther.

Tony.

Art thou a wise man?

Val.

I cannot tell thee Tony, ask my neighbours.

Tony.

If thou beest so, go lye with me to night, The old fool will lye quieter than the young one, And give thee more sleep, thou wilt look to morrow else Worse than the prodigal fool the Ballad speaks of, That was squeez'd through a horn.

Val.

I shall take thy counsel.

Queen.

Why then good night, good night my best Evanthe, My worthy maid, and as that name shall vanish, A worthy wife, a long and happy; follow Sirrah.

Evan.

That shall be my care, Goodness rest with your Grace.

Queen.

Be lusty Lord, and take your Lady to ye, And that power that shall part ye be unhappy.

Val.

Sweet rest unto ye, to ye all sweet Ladies; Tony good night.

Tony.

Shall not the fool stay with thee?

Queen.

Come away Sirrah.

Exeunt Queen, Ladies.

Tony.

How the fool is sought for! sweet Malt is made of easie fire, A hasty horse will quickly tire, a sudden leaper sticks i'th' mire,

Palebotomy and the word lye nigher, take heed of friend I thee require; This from an Almanack I stole, and learn this Lesson from a fool. Good night my Bird.

Exit Tony.

Evan.

Good night wise Master Tony; Will ye to bed my Lord? Come, let me help ye.

Val.

To bed Evanthe, art thou sleepy?

Evant.

No, I shall be worse if you look sad upon me, Pray ye let's to bed.

Val.

I am not well my love.

Evant.

I'le make ye well, there's no such Physick for ye As your warm Mistris arms.

Val.

Art thou so cunning?

Evant.

I speak not by experience, 'pray ye mistake not; But if you love me —

Val.

I do love so dearly, So much above the base bent of desire, I know not how to answer thee.

Evant.

To bed then, There I shall better credit ye', sie my Lord, Will ye put a maid to't, to teach ye what to do? An innocent maid? Are ye so cold a Lover? Intruth you make me blush, 'tis midnight too, And 'tis no stoln love, but authorised openly, No sin we covet, pray let me undress ye, You shall help me; prethee sweet Valerio; Be not so sad, the King will be more mercifull.

Val.

May not I love thy mind?

Evant.

And I yours too, 'Tis a most noble one, adorn'd with vertue; But if we love not one another really, And put our bodies and our mind together, And so make up the concord of affection, Our love will prove but a blind superstition: This is no school to argue in my Lord, Not have we time to talk away allow'd us, Pray let's dispatch, if any one should come And find us at this distance, what would they think? Come, kiss me and to bed.

Val.

That I dare do, and kiss again.

Evant.

Spare not, they are your own Sir.

Val.

But to injoy thee is to be luxurious; Too sensuall in my love, and too ambitious; O how I burn! to pluck thee from the stalk, Where now thou grow'st a sweet bud and a beauteous, And bear'st the prime and honour of the Garden, Is but to violate thy spring, and spoil thee.

Evant.

To let me blow, and fall alone would anger ye.

Val.

Let's sit together thus, and as we sit Feed on the sweets of one anothers souls, The happiness of love is contemplation, The blessedness of love is pure affection, Where no allay of actuall dull desires, Of pleasure that partakes with wantonness, Of humane fire that burns out as it kindles, And leaves the body but a poor repentance, Can ever mix, let's fix on that Evanthe, That's everlasting, the tother casuall; Eternity breeds one, the other fortune, Blind as her self, and full of all afflictions. Shall we love vertuously?

Evant.

I ever loved so.

Val.

And only think our love; the rarest pleasure, And that we most desire, let it be humane, If once injoyed grows stale, and cloys our appetites; I would not lessen in my love for any thing, Nor find thee but the same in my short journey, For my loves safety.

Evant.

Now I see I am old Sir, Old and ill favour'd too, poor and despis'd, And am not worth your noble Fellowship, Your fellowship in Love, you would not else Thus cunningly seek to betray a maid, A maid that honours you thus piously; Strive to abuse the pious love she brings ye. Farewel my Lord, since ye have a better Mistris, For it must seem so, or ye are no man, A younger, happier, I shall give her room, So much I love ye still.

Val.

Stay my Evanthe, Heaven beat me witness, thou art all I love, All I desire, and now have pity on me, I never lyed before; forgive me Justice, Youth and affection stop your ears unto me.

Evant.

Why do you weep? if I have spoke too harshly, And unbeseeming, my beloved Lord, My care and duty, pardon me,

Val.

O hear me, Hear me Evanthe; I am all on torture, And this lye tears my conscience as I vent it; I am no man.

Evant.

How Sir?

Val.

No man for pleasure, no womans man.

Eva.

Goodness forbid my Lord, sure you abuse your self.

Val.

'Tis true Evanthe; I shame to say you will find it.

Weeps.

Evant.

He weeps bitterly, 'Tis my hard fortune, bless all young maids from it; Is there no help my Lord in art will comfort ye?

Val.

I hope there is.

Evant.

How long have you been destitute?

Val.

Since I was young.

Evant.

'Tis hard to dye for nothing, Now you shall know 'tis not the pleasure Sir, (For I am compell'd to love you spiritually) That women aim at, I affect ye for, 'Tis for your worth; and kiss me, be at peace, Because I ever loved ye, I still honour ye, And with all duty to my Husband follow ye; Will ye to bed now? ye are asham'd is seems; Pygmalion pray'd and his cold stone took life, You do not know with what zeal I shall ask Sir, And what rare miracle that may work upon ye; Still blush? prescribe your Law.

Val.

I prethee pardon me, To bed, and I'le sit by thee, and mourn with thee, Mourn both our fortunes, our unhappy ones: Do not despise me, make me not more wretched, I pray to Heaven when I am gone Evanthe, As my poor date is but a span of time now, To recompence thy noble patience, Thy love and vertue with a fruitfull husband, Honest and honourable.

Evant.

Come, you have made me weep now, All fond desire dye here, and welcom chastity, Honour and chastity, do what you please Sir.

Exeunt.