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 at one door Rugio, and Frier Marco, at the other door Sorano, with a little glass viol.

Rug.

WHat alls this piece of mischief to look sad? He seems to weep too.

Mar.

Something is a hatching, And of some bloody nature too, Lord Rugio, This Crocodile mourns thus cunningly.

Sor.

Hail holy Father, And good day to the good Lord Rugio, How fares the sad Prince I beseech ye Sir?

Rug.

'Tis like you know, you need not ask that question, You have your eyes and watches on his miseries As near as ours, I would they were as tender.

Mar.

Can you do him good? as the King and you appointed him, So he is still, as you desir'd I think too,

For every day he is worse (Heaven pardon all) Put off your sorrow, you may laugh now Lord, He cannot last long to disturb your Master, You have done worthy service to his Brother, And he most memorable love.

Sor.

You do not know Sir With what remorse I ask, nor with what weariness I groan and bow under this load of honour, And how my soul sighs for the beastly services, I have done his pleasures, these be witness with me, And from your piety believe me Father, I would as willingly unclothe my self Of title, that becomes me not I know; Good men, and great names best agree together; Cast off the glorious favours, and the trappings Of sound and honour, wealth and promises, His wanton pleasures have slung on my weakness, And chuse to serve my countries cause and vertues, Poorly and honestly, and redeem my ruines, As I would hope remission of my mischiefs.

Rug.

Old and experienc'd men, my Lord Sorano, Are not so quickly caught with gilt hypocrisie, You pull your claws in now and sawn upon us, As lyons do to intice poor foolish beasts; And beasts we should be too if we believ'd ye, Go exercise your Art.

Sor.

For Heaven sake scorn me not, Nor adde more Hell to my afflicted soul Than I feel here; as you are honourable, As you are charitable look gently on me, I will no more to Court, be no more Devil, I know I must be hated even of him That was my Love now, and the more he loves me For his foul ends, when they shall once appear to him, Master before his conscience and accuse him, The fouler and the more falls his displeasure, Princes are fading things, so are their favours.

Mar.

He weeps again, his heart is toucht sure with remorse.

Sor.

See this, and give me fair attention good my Lord, And worthy Father see, within this viol The remedy and cure of all my honour, And of the sad Prince lyes.

Rug.

What new trick's this?

Sor.

'Tis true, I have done Offices abundantly Ill and prodigious to the Prince Alphonso, And whilst I was a knave I sought his death too.

Rug.

You are too late convicted to be good yet.

Sor.

But Father, when I felt this part afflict me, This inward part, and call'd me to an audit Of my misdeeds and mischiefs —

Mar.

Well, go on Sir.

Sor.

O then, then, then what was my glory then Father? The favour of the King, what did that ease me? What was it to be bow'd to by all creatures? Worship, and courted, what did this avail me? I was a wretch, a poor lost wretch.

Mar.

Still better.

Sor.

Till in the midst of all my grief I found Repentance, and a learned man to give the means to it, A Jew, an honest and a rare Physician, Of him I had this Jewel; 'tis a Jewel, And at the price of all my wealth I bought it: If the King knew it I must lose my head, And willingly, most willingly I would suffer, A child may take it, 'tis so sweet in working.

Mar.

To whom would you apply it?

Sor.

To the sick Prince, It will in half a day dissolve his melancholy.

Rug.

I do believe, and give him sleep for ever. What impudence is this, and what base malice, To make us instruments of thy abuses? Are we set here to poison him?

Sor.

Mistake not, yet I must needs say, 'tis a noble care, And worthy vertuous servants; if you will see A flourishing estate again in Naples, And great Alphonso reign that's truly good, And like himself able to make all excellent; Give him this drink, and this good health unto him.

Drinks.

I am not so desperate yet to kill my self, Never look on me as a guilty man, Nor on the water as a speedy poison: I am not mad, nor laid out all my treasure, My conscience and my credit to abuse ye; How nimbly and how chearfully it works now Upon my heart and head! sure I am a new man, There is no sadness that I feel within me, But as it meets it, like a lazie vapour How it flyes off. Here, give it him with speed, You are more guilty than I ever was, And worthier of the name of evil subjects, If but an hour you hold this from his health.

Rug.

'Tis some rare vertuous thing sure, he is a good man, It must be so, come, let's apply it presently, And may it sweetly work.

Sor.

Pray let me hear on't, and carry it close my Lords.

Mar.

Yes, good Sorano.

Ex. Rugio, Marco.

Sor.

Do my good fools, my honest pious coxcombs, My wary fools too: have I caught your wisedoms? You never dream't I knew an Antidote, Nor how to take it to secure mine own life; I am an Asse, go, give him the fine cordial, And when you have done go dig his grave, good Frier, Some two hours hence we shall have such a bawling, And roaring up and down for Aqua vitae, Such rubbing, and such nointing, and such cooling, I have sent him that will make a bonfire in's belly, If he recover it, there is no heat in Hell sure.

Exit.

Enter Frederick, and Podrano.

Fred.

Podrano?

Pod.

Sir.

Fred.

Call hither Lord Valerio, and let none trouble us.

Pod.

It shall be done Sir.

Exit.

Fred.

I know he wants no additions to his tortures, He has enough for humane blood to carry, Yet I must vex him further; So many that I wonder his hot youth And high-bred spirit breaks not into fury; I must yet torture him a little further, And make my self sport with his miseries, My anger is too poor else. Here he comes,

Enter Val.

Now my young married Lord, how do you feel your self? You have the happiness you ever aim'd at, The joy and pleasure.

Val.

Would you had the like Sir.

Fred.

You tumble in delights with your sweet Lady, And draw the minutes out in dear embraces, You live a right Lords life.

Val.

Would you had tryed it, That you might know the vertue but to suffer, Your anger though it be unjust and insolent, Sits handsomer upon you than your scorn, To do a wilfull ill and glory in it, Is to do it double, double to be damn'd too.

Fred.

Hast thou not found a loving and free Prince, High in his favours too; that has confer'd Such hearts ease, and such heaps of comfort on thee, All thou cou'dst ask?

Val.

You are grown a tyrant too Upon so suffering, and so still a subject; You have put upon me such a punishment, That if your youth were honest it would blush at: But you are a shame to nature, as to vertue. Pull not my rage upon ye, 'tis so just, It will give way to no respect; my life, My innocent life, I dare maintain it Sir, Like a wanton prodigal you have slung away, Had I a thousand more I would allow 'em,

And be as careless of 'em as your will is; But to deny those rights the Law hath given me, The holy Law, and make her life the penance, Is such a studied and unheard of malice, No heart that is not hired from Hell dare think of; To do it then too, when my hopes were high, High as my Blood, all my desires upon me, My free affections ready to embrace her,

Enter Cassandra.

And she mine own; do you smile at this? is't done well? Is there not Heaven above you that sees all?

Exit Val.

Fred.

Come hither Time, how does your noble Mistriss?

Cas.

As a Gentlewoman may do in her case that's newly married, Sir: Sickly sometimes, and fond on't, like your Majesty.

Fred.

She is breeding then?

Cas.

She wants much of her colour, And has her qualms as Ladies use to have, Sir, And her disgusts.

Fred.

And keeps her Chamber?

Cas.

Yes Sir.

Fred.

And eats good Broths and Jellies.

Cas.

I am sure she sighs, Sir, and weeps, good Lady.

Fred.

Alas, good Lady, for it, She should have one could comfort her, Cassandra, Could turn those tears to joys, a lusty Comforter.

Cas.

A comfortable man does well at all hours, For he brings comfortable things.

Fred.

Come hither, & hold your fann between, you have eaten Onions, Her breath stinks like a Fox, her teeth are contagious, These old women are all Elder-Pipes, do ye mark me?

Gives a Purse.

Cas.

Yes, Sir, but does your Grace think I am fit, That am both old and vertuous?

Fred.

Therefore the fitter, the older still the better, I know thou art as holy as an old Cope, Yet upon necessary use—

Cas.

'Tis true, Sir.

Fred.

Her feeling sense is fierce still, speak unto her, You are familiar; speak I say, unto her, Speak to the purpose; tell her this, and this.

Cas.

Alas, she is honest, Sir, she is very honest, And would you have my gravity—

Fred.

I, I, your gravity will become the cause the better, I'll look thee out a Knight shall make thee a Lady too, A lusty Knight, and one that shall be ruled by thee, And add to these, I'll make 'em good, no mincing, Nor ducking out of nicety, good Lady, But do it home, we'll all be friends too, tell her, And such a joy—

Cas.

That's it that stirs me up, Sir, I would not for the World attempt her Chastity, But that they may live lovingly hereafter.

Fred.

For that I urge it too.

Cas.

A little evil may well be suffered for a general good, Sir, I'll take my leave of your Majesty.

Exit.

Enter Valerio.

Fred.

Go fortunately, be speedy too: here comes Valerio, If his affliction have allayed his spirit My work has end. Come hither, Lord Valerio, How do you now?

Val.

Your Majesty may guess, Not so well, nor so fortunate as you are, That can tye up mens honest wills, and actions.

Fred.

You clearly see now, brave Valerio, What 'tis to be the Rival to a Prince, To interpose against a raging Lion; I know you have suffer'd, infinitely suffer'd, And with a kind of pity I behold it, And if you dare be worthy of my mercy, I can yet heal you, yield up your Evanthe, Take off my sentence also.

Val.

I fall thus low, Sir, My poor sad heart under your feet I lay, And all the service of my life.

Fred.

Do this then, for without this 'twill be impossible, Part with her for a while.

Val.

You have parted us, What should I do with that I cannot use Sir?

Fred.

'Tis well consider'd, let me have the Lady, And thou shalt see how nobly I'll befriend thee, How all this difference—

Val.

Will she come do you think, Sir?

Fred.

She must be wrought, I know she is too modest, And gently wrought, and cunningly.

Val.

'Tis fit, Sir.

Fred.

And secretly it must be done.

Val.

As thought.

Fred.

I'll warrant ye her honour shall be fair still, No soil nor stain shall appear on that, Valerio, You see a thousand that bear sober faces, And shew of as inimitable modesties; You would be sworn too that they were pure Matrons, And most chaste maids: and yet to augment their fortunes, And get them noble friends—

Val.

They are content, Sir, In private to bestow their Beauties on 'em.

Fred.

They are so, and they are wise, they know no want for't, Nor no eye sees they want their honesties.

Val.

If it might be carried thus.

Fred.

It shall be, Sir.

Val.

I'll see you dead first, with this caution, Why, sure I think it might be done.

Fred.

Yes, easily.

Val.

For what time would your Grace desire her Body?

Fred.

A month or two, it shall be carried still As if she kept with you, and were a stranger, Rather a hater of the grace I offer; And then I will return her with such honour—

Val.

'Tis very like I dote much on your Honour.

Fred.

And load her with such favour too, Valerio—

Val.

She never shall claw off? I humbly thank ye.

Fred.

I'll make ye both the happiest, and the richest, And the mightiest too—

Val.

But who shall work her, Sir? For on my Conscience she is very honest, And will be hard to cut as a rough Diamond.

Fred.

Why, you must work her, any thing from your tongue, Set off with golden, and perswasive Language, Urging your dangers too.

Val.

But all this time Have you the conscience, Sir, to leave me nothing, Nothing to play withal?

Fred.

There be a thousand, take where thou wilt.

Val.

May I make bold with your Queen, She is useless to your Grace, as it appears, Sir, And but a loyal Wife that may be lost too; I have a mind to her, and then 'tis equal?

Fred.

How, Sir?

Val.

'Tis so, Sir, thou most glorious impudence, Have I not wrongs enow to suffer under, But thou must pick me out to make a Monster? A hated Wonder to the World? Do you start At my intrenching on your private liberty, And would you force a high-way through mine honour, And make me pave it too? But that thy Queen Is of that excellent honesty, And guarded with Divinity about her, No loose thought can come near, nor flame unhallowed, I would so right my self.

Fred.

Why, take her to ye, I am not vex'd at this, thou shalt enjoy her, I'll be thy friend if that may win thy courtesie.

Val.

I will not be your Bawd, though for your Royalty. Was I brought up, and nourish'd in the Court, With thy most Royal Brother, and thy self,

Upon thy Fathers charge, thy happy Fathers, And suckt the sweetness of all humane arts, Learn'd Arms and Honour, to become a Rascal; Was this the expectation of my Youth, My growth of Honour? Do you speak this truly, Or do you try me, Sir? for I believe not, At least I would not, and methinks 'tis impossible There should be such a Devil in a Kings shape, Such a malignant Fiend.

Fred.

I thank ye, Sir, To morrow is your last day, and look to it, Get from my sight, away.

Val.

Ye are— Oh, my heart's too high and full to think upon ye.

Exeunt.

Enter Evanthe, and Cassandra.

Evan.

You think it fit then, mortified Cassandra, That I should be a Whore?

Cas.

Why a Whore, Madam? If every Woman that upon necessity Did a good turn, for there's the main point, mark it, Were term'd a Whore, who would be honest, Madam? Your Lords life, and your own are now in hazard, Two precious lives may be redeem'd with nothing, Little or nothing; say an hours or days sport, Or such a toy, the end to it is wantonness. (That we call lust that maidens lose their fame for) But a compell'd necessity of honour, Fair as the day, and clear as innocence, Upon my life and conscience, a direct way—

Evan.

To be a Rascal.

Cas.

'Tis a kind of Rape too, That keeps you clear, for where your will's compell'd Though you yield up your Body you are safe still.

Evan.

Thou art grown a learned Bawd, I ever look'd Thy great sufficiency would break out.

Cas.

You may, You that are young, and fair scorn us old Creatures, But you must know my years, ere you be wise, Lady, And my experience too; say the King loved ye? Say it were nothing else?

Evan.

I, marry wench, now thou comest to me.

Cas.

Do you think Princes favours are such sleight things, To fling away when you please? there be young Ladies Both fair and honourable, that would leap to reach 'em, And leap aloft too.

Evan.

Such are light enough; I am no Vaulter, Wench, but canst thou tell me, Though he be a King, whether he be sound or no? I would not give my Youth up to infection.

Cas.

As sound as honour ought to be, I think, Lady; Go to, be wise, I do not bid you try him; But if he love you well, and you neglect him, Your Lords life hanging on the hazard of it, If you be so wilful proud.

Evan.

Thou speakest to the point still; But when I have lain with him, what am I then, Gentlewoman?

Cas.

What are you? why, the same you are now, a woman, A vertuous Woman, and a noble Woman, Touching at what is noble, you become so. Had Lucrece e'r been thought of but for Tarquin? She was before a simple unknown Woman, When she was ravish'd, she was a reverend Saint; And do you think she yielded not a little? And had a kind of will to have been re-ravish'd? Believe it, yes: there are a thousand stories Of wondrous loyal Women, that have slipt, But it has been on the ice of tender honour, That kept 'em cool still to the World. I think you are blest, That have such an occasion in your hands to beget a Chronicle, A faithful one.

Evan.

It must needs be much honour.

Cas.

As you may make it, infinite, and safe too, And when 'tis done, your Lord and you may live So quietly, and peaceably together, And be what you please.

Evan.

But suppose this, Wench, The King should so delight me with his Company, I should forget my Lord, and no more look on him.

Cas.

That's the main hazard, for I tell you truly, I have heard report speak he is an infinite pleasure, Almost above belief; there be some Ladies, And modest to the world too, wondrous modest, That have had the blessedness to try his body, That I have heard proclaim him a new Hercules.

Evan.

So strongly able?

Cas.

There will be the danger, You being but a young and tender Lady, Although your mind be good, yet your weak Body, At first encounter too, to meet with one Of his unconquer'd strength.

Evan.

Peace, thou rude Bawd, Thou studied old corruptness, tye thy tongue up, Your hired base tongue; is this your timely counsel? Dost thou seek to make me dote on wickedness? Because 'tis ten times worse than thou deliver'st it? To be a Whore, because he has sufficiency To make a hundred? O thou impudence! Have I reliev'd thy Age to mine own ruine? And worn thee in my Bosome, to betray me? Can years and impotence win nothing on thee That's good and honest, but thou must go on still? And where thy bloud wants heat to sin thy self, Force thy decrepit will to make me wicked?

Cas.

I did but tell ye.

Evan.

What the damnedst Woman, The cunning'st and the skilfull'st Bawd comes short of; If thou hadst liv'd ten Ages to be damn'd in, And exercis'd this Art the Devil taught thee, Thou could'st not have express'd it more exactly.

Cas.

I did not bid you sin.

Evan.

Thou woo'd'st me to it, Thou that art fit for Prayer and the Grave, Thy Body Earth already, and Corruption, Thou taught'st the way; go follow your fine function, There are houses of delight, that want good Matrons, Such grave Instructors, get thee thither, Monster, And read variety of sins to wantons, And when they roar with pains, learn to make plaisters.

Cas.

This we have for our good wills.

Evan.

If e'r I see thee more, Or any thing that's like thee, to affright me, By this fair light I'll spoil thy Bawdery, I'll leave thee neither Eyes nor Nose to grace thee. When thou wantest Bread, and common pity towards thee,

Enter Frederick.

And art a starving in a Ditch, think of me, Then dye, and let the wandring Bawds lament thee; Be gone, I charge thee leave me.

Cas.

You'll repent this.

Exit.

Fred.

She's angry, and t'other crying too, my suit's cold. I'll make your heart ake, stubborn Wench, for this; Turn not so angry from me, I will speak to you, Are you grown proud with your delight, good Lady, So pamper'd with your sport you scorn to know me?

Evan.

I scorn ye not, I would you scorn'd not me, Sir, And forc't me to be weary of my duty, I know your Grace, would I had never seen ye.

Fred.

Because I love you, because I dote upon ye, Because I am a man that seek to please ye.

Evan.

I have man enough already to content me, As much, as noble, and as worthy of me, As all the World can yield.

Fred.

That's but your modesty, You have no man, nay never look upon me,

•• know it, Lady, no man to content ye, No man that can, or at the least, that dares, Which is a poorer man, and nearer nothing.

Evan.

Be nobler, Sir, inform'd.

Fred.

I'll tell thee, Wench, The poor condition of this poorer fellow, And make thee blush for shame at thine own errour, He never tendred yet a husbands duty, To thy warm longing bed.

Evan.

How should he know that?

Fred.

I am sure he did not, for I charg'd him no, Upon his life I charg'd him, but to try him; Could any brave or noble spirit stop here? Was life to be preferr'd before affection? Lawful and long'd for too?

Evan.

Did you command him?

Fred.

I did in policy to try his spirit.

Evan.

And could he be so dead cold to observe it? Brought I no beauty, nor no love along with me?

Fred.

Why, that is it that makes me scorn to name him. I should have lov'd him if he had ventur'd for't, Nay, doted on his bravery.

Evan.

Only charg'd? And with that spell sit down? dare men fight bravely For poor slight things, for drink, or ostentation? And there indanger both their lives and fortunes, And for their lawful loves fly off with fear?

Fred.

'Tis true, and with a cunning base fear too to abuse thee? Made thee believe, poor innocent Evanthe, Wretched young Girl, it was his impotency; Was it not so? deny it.

Evan.

O my anger! at my years to be cozen'd with a young man!

Fred.

A strong man too, certain he lov'd ye dearly.

Evan.

To have my shame and love mingled together, And both flung on me like a weight to sink me, I would have dyed a thousand times.

Fred.

So would any, Any that had the spirit of a man; I would have been kill'd in your arms.

Evan.

I would he had been, And buried in mine arms, that had been noble, And what a monument would I have made him? Upon this breast he should have slept in peace, Honour, and everlasting love his mourners; And I still weeping till old time had turn'd me, And pitying powers above into pure crystal.

Fred.

Hadst thou lov'd me, and had my way been stuck With deaths, as thick as frosty nights with stars, I would have ventur'd.

Evan.

Sure there is some trick in't: Valerio ne'r was Coward.

Fred.

Worse than this too, Tamer, and seasoning of a baser nature, He set your woman on ye to betray ye, Your bawdy woman, or your sin solicitor; I pray but think what this man may deserve now, I know he did, and did it to please me too.

Evan.

Good Sir afflict me not too fast, I feel I am a woman, and a wrong'd one too, And sensible I am of my abuses, Sir, you have loved me.

Fred.

And I love thee still, pity thy wrongs, and dote upon thy person.

Evan.

To set my woman on me 'twas too base, Sir.

Fred.

Abominable vile.

Evan.

But I shall fit him.

Fred.

All reason and all Law allows it to ye, And ye are a fool, a tame fool, if you spare him.

Evan.

You may speak now, and happily prevail too, And I beseech your Grace be angry with me.

Fred.

I am at heart. She staggers in her faith, And will fall off I hope, I'll ply her still. Thou abused innocence, I suffer with thee, If I should give him life, he would still betray thee; That fool that fears to dye for such a Beauty, Would for the same fear sell thee unto misery. I do not say he would have been Bawd himself too.

Evan.

Follow'd thus far? nay then I smell the malice, It tastes too hot of practis'd wickedness, There can be no such man, I am sure no Gentleman; Shall my anger make me whore, and not my pleasure? My sudden inconsiderate rage abuse me? Come home again, my frighted faith, my vertue, Home to my heart again; he be a Bawd too?

Fred.

I will not say he offered fair Evanthe.

Evan.

Nor do not dare, 'twill be an impudence, And not an honour for a Prince to lye; ••ye, Sir, a person of your rank to trifle, I know you do lye.

Fred.

How?

Evan.

Lye shamefully, and I could wish my self a man but one day, To tell you openly you lye too basely.

Fred.

Take heed, wild fool.

Evan.

Take thou heed, thou tame Devil, Thou all Pandora's Box in a Kings figure, Thou hast almost whor'd my weak belief already, And like an Engineer blown up mine honour; But I shall countermine, and catch your mischief, This little Fort you seek, I shall man nobly, And strongly too, with chaste obedience To my dear Lord, with vertuous thoughts that scorn ye. Victorious Thomyris ne'r won more honour In cutting off the Royal head of Cyrus, Than I shall do in conquering thee; farewel, And if thou canst be wise, learn to be good too. 'Twill give thee nobler lights than both thine eyes do; My poor Lord and my self are bound to suffer, And when I see him faint under your sentence, I'll tell ye more, it may be then I'll yield too.

Fred.

Fool unexampled, shall my anger follow thee?

Exeunt.

Enter Rugio, and Fryar Marco, amazed.

Rugio.

Curst on our sights, our fond credulities, A thousand curses on the Slave that cheated us, The damn'd Slave.

Mar.

We have e'n sham'd our service, Brought our best care and loyalties to nothing, 'Tis the most fearful poyson, the most potent, Heaven give him patience; Oh it works most strongly, And tears him, Lord.

Rug.

That we should be so stupid To trust the arrant'st Villain that e'r flatter'd, The bloodiest too, to believe a few soft words from him, And give way to his prepar'd tears. Within, Alphonso. Oh, Oh, Oh.

Rug.

Hark, Fryar Marco, hark, the poor Prince, that we should be such Block-heads, As to be taken with his drinking first! And never think what Antidotes are made for! Two wooden sculls we have, and we deserve to be hang'd for't; For certainly it will be laid to our charge; As certain too, it will dispatch him speedily, Which way to turn, or what to—

Mar.

Let's pray, Heavens hand is strong.

Rug.

The poyson's strong, you would say.

Enter Alphonso, carried on a Couch by two Fryars.

Would any thing— He comes, let's give him comfort.

Alph.

Give me more air, air, more air, blow, blow, Open thou Eastern Gate, and blow upon me, Distill thy cold dews, O thou icy Moon, And Rivers run through my afflicted spirit. I am all fire, fire, fire, the raging dog star Reigns in my bloud, Oh which way shall I turn me? Aetna, and all his flames burn in my head, Fling me into the Ocean or I perish; Dig, dig, dig, till the Springs fly up, The cold, cold Springs, that I may leap into 'em, And bathe my scorcht Limbs in their purling Pleasures.

Or shoot me up into the higher Region, Where treasures of delicious Snow are nourisht, And Banquets of sweet Ha••l.

Rug.

Hold him fast Fryer, O how he burns!

Alph.

What will ye sacrifice me? Upon the Altar lay my willing body, And pile your Wood up, fling your holy incense; And as I turn me you shall see all flame, Consuming flame, stand off me, or you are ashes.

Both.

Most miserable wretches.

Alph.

Bring hither Charity And let me hug her, Fryer, they say she's cold, Infinite cold Devotion cannot warm her; Draw me a river of false lovers tears Clean through my breast, they are dull, cold, and forgetful, And will give ease, let Virgins sigh upon me, Forsaken souls, the sighs are precious, Let them all sigh: Oh hell, hell, hell, Oh horror.

Mar.

To bed, good Sir.

Alph.

My bed will burn about me, Like Phaeton, in all consuming flashes I am inclosed, let me fly, let me fly, give room; Betwixt the cold Bear, and the raging Lyon Lyes my safe way; O for a cake of Ice now, To clap unto my heart to comfort me; Decrepit Winter hang upon my shoulders, And let me wear thy frozen Isicles Like Jewels round about my head, to cool me; My eyes burn out, and sink into their sockets, And my infected brain like brimstone boils, I live in Hell, and several furies vex me; O carry me where no Sun ever shew'd yet A face of comfort, where the earth is Crystal, Never to be dissolv'd, where naught inhabits But night and cold, and nipping frosts, and winds That cut the stubborn rocks and make them shiver; Set me there friends.

Rug.

Hold fast, he must to bed, Fryer, what scalding sweats he has?

Mar.

He'll scald in Hell for't, that was the cause.

Alph.

Drink, drink, a world of drink, Fill all the cups and all the antick vessels, And borrow pots, let me have drink enough, Bring all the worthy drunkards of the time, The experienc'd drunkards, let me have them all, And let them drink their worst, I'le make them Ideots, I'le lye upon my Back and swallow Vessels; Have Rivers made of cooling Wine run through me, Not stay for this mans health, or this great Princes, But take an Ocean, and begin to all; Oh, oh.

Mar.

He cools a little, now away with him, And to his warm bed presently.

Alph.

No drink? no wind? no cooling air?

Rug.

You shall have any thing. His hot fit lessens, Heaven put in a hand now, And save his life; there's drink Sir in your chamber, And all cool things.

Alph.

Away, away, let's fly to 'em.

Exeunt.

Enter Valerio and Evanthe.

Evan.

To say you were impotent, I am asham'd on't, To make your self no man, to a fresh Maid too, A longing Maid, upon her wedding night also, To give her such a dor.

Val.

I prethee pardon me.

Evan.

Had you been drunk, 't had been excusable, Or like a Gentleman under the Surgions hands, And so not able, there had been some colour, But wretchedly to take a weakness to ye, A fearful weakness, to abuse your body, And let a lye work like a spell upon ye, A lye, to save your life.

Val.

Will you give me leave, sweet?

Ev.

You have taken too much leave, and too base leave too, To wrong your love; hast thou a noble spirit? And canst thou look up to the peoples loves, That call thee worthy, and not blush, Valerio? Canst thou behold me that thou hast betray'd thus, And no shame touch thee?

Val.

Shame attend the sinful, I know my innocence.

Evan.

Ne'r think to face it, that's a double weakness, And shews thee falser still; the King himself, Though he be wicked, and our Enemy, But juster than thou art, in pity of my injuries, Told me the truth.

Val.

What did he tell thee, Evanthe?

Evan.

That but to gain thy life a fortnight longer, Thy lov'd poor life, thou gav'st up all my duties.

Val.

I swear 'tis false; my life and death are equal, I have weigh'd 'em both, and find 'em but one fortune, But Kings are men, and live as men, and dye too, Have the affections men have, and their falsehoods; Indeed they have more power to make 'em good; The King's to blame, it was to save thy life Wench, Thy innocent life, that I forbore thy bed, For if I had toucht thee thou hadst dyed, he swore it.

Evan.

And was not I as worthy to dye nobly? To make a story for the time that follows, As he that married me? what weakness, Sir, Or disability do you see in me, Either in mind or body? to defraud me Of such an opportunity? Do you think I married you Only for pleasure, or content in lust? To lull you in my arms, and kiss you hourly? Was this my end? I might have been a Queen, Sir, If that had caught me, and have known all delicates; There's few that would have shun'd so fair an offer. O thou unfaithful fearful man, thou hast kill'd me, In saving me this way, thou hast destroy'd me, Rob'd me of that thy love can never give more; To be unable to save me? O misery! Had I been my Valerio, thou Evanthe, I would have lyen with thee under a Gallows, Though the Hangman had been my Hymen, and the furies With iron whips and forks, ready to torture me. I would have hug'd thee too, though Hell had gap'd at me; Save my life! that expected to dye bravely, That would have woo'd it too: Would I had married An Eunuch, that had truly no ability, Then such a fearful lyar, thou hast done me A scurvy courtesie, that has undone me.

Val.

I'le do no more, since you are so nobly fashion'd, Made up so strongly, I'le take my share with ye, Nay, dear, I'le learn of you.

Evan.

He weeps too tenderly; My anger's gone, good my Lord pardon me, And if I have offended, be more angry, It was a Womans flash, a sudden valour, That could not lye conceal'd.

Val.

I honour ye, by all the rites of holy marriage, And pleasures of chaste love, I wonder at ye, You appear the vision of a Heaven unto me, Stuck all with stars of honour shining clearly, And all the motions of your mind Celestial; Man is a lump of Earth, the best man spiritless, To such a woman; all our lives and actions But counterfeits in Arras to this vertue; Chide me again, you have so brave an anger, And flows so nobly from you, thus deliver'd, That I could suffer like a Child to hear ye, Nay make my self guilty of some faults to honour ye.

Eva.

I'le chide no more, you have rob'd me of my courage, And with a cunning patience checkt my impudence; Once more forgiveness?

She kneels.

Val.

Will this serve, Evanthe?

Kisses her.

And this my love? Heavens mercy be upon us; But did he tell no more?

Evan.

Only this trifle: you set my woman on me, to betray me; 'Tis true, she did her best, a bad old woman,

••t stir'd me, Sir.

Val.

I cannot blame thee, Jewel.

Evan.

And me thought when your name was sounded that way—

Val.

He that will spare no fame, will spare no name, sweet; Though as I am a man, I am full of weakness, And may slip happily into some ignorance, Yet at my years to be a bawd, and cozen Mine own hopes with my Doctrine—

Eva.

I believe not, nor never shall; our time is out to morrow.

Val.

Let's be to night then full of fruitfulness, Now we are both of one mind, let's be happy, I am no more a wanting man, Evanthe, Thy warm embraces shall dissolve that impotence, And my cold lye shall vanish with thy kisses; You hours of night be long, as when Alemena Lay by the lusty side of Jupiter; Keep back the day, and hide his golden beams, Where the chaste watchful morning may not find 'em; Old doting Tython hold Aurora fast, And though she blush the day-break from her cheeks, Conceal her still; thou heavy Wain stand firm, And stop the quicker revolutions; Or if the day must come, to spoil our happiness, Thou envious Sun peep not upon our pleasure, Thou that all Lovers curse, be far off from us.

Enter Castruchio with Guard.

Evan.

Then let's to bed, and this night in all joyes And chaste delights—

Cast.

Stay, I must part ye both; It is the Kings command, who bids me tell ye, To morrow is your last hour.

Val.

I obey, Sir, In Heaven we shall meet, Captain, where King Frederick Dare not appear to part us.

Cast.

Mistake me not, though I am rough in doing of my Office, You shall find, Sir, you have a friend to honour ye.

Val.

I thank ye, Sir.

Evan.

Pray captain tell the King, They that are sad on Earth, in Heaven shall sing.

Exeunt.