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 Leon, and Mallfort.

Mal.

AND as I told you, Sir.

Leon.

I understand you, Clarinda's still perverse.

Mal.

She's worse, obdurate, Flinty, relentless, my love-passions jeer'd at, My Presents scorn'd.

Leon.

'Tis strange a waiting woman, In her condition apt to yield, should hold out A man of your place, reverend Beard and shape, Besieging her.

Mal.

You might add too my wealth, Which she contemns, five hundred Crowns per annum, For which I have ventur'd hard, my Conscience knows it, Not thought upon, though offer'd for a Joynture; This Chain which my Lords Pesants worship, flouted; My solemn hums and ha's, the servants quake at, No Rhetorick with her; every hour she hangs out Some new Flag of defiance to torment me; Last Lent, my Lady call'd me her Poor John, But now I am grown a walking Skeleton, You may see through, and through me.

Leon.

Indeed you are much faln away.

Mal.

I am a kind of nothing, As she hath made me; Love's a terrible Clyster, And if some Cordial of her favours help not, I shall like an Italian, dye backward, And breathe my last the wrong way.

Leon.

As I live, you have my pity; but this is cold comfort, And in a friend lip-physick; and now I think on't, I should do more, and will, so you deny not

Your self the means of comfort.

Mal.

I'll be hang'd first; one dram of't I beseech you.

Leon.

You are not jealous of any mans access to her?

Mal.

I would not receive the Dor, but as a bosome friend You shall direct me, still provided that I understand who is the man, and what His purpose, that pleads for me.

Leon.

By all means: First, for the undertaker, I am he; The means that I will practise, thus—

Mal.

Pray you forward.

Leon.

You know your Lady, chaste Calista loves her.

Mal.

Too well, that makes her proud.

Leon.

Nay, give me leave, This beauteous Lady, I may stile her so, (Being the paragon of France for feature) Is not alone contented in her self To seem, and be good, but desires to make All such as have dependance on her, like her; For this Clarinda's liberty is restrain'd; And though her kinsman, the gate's shut against me; Now if you please to make your self the door, For my conveyance to her, though you run The hazard of a check for't, 'tis no matter.

Mal.

It being for mine own ends.

Leon.

I'll give it o'r, If that you make the least doubt otherwise: Study upon't: good morrow.

Mal.

Pray you stay, Sir; You are my friend; yet as the Proverb says, When love puts in, friendship is gone: suppose You should your self affect her?

Leon.

Do you think I'll commit incest? for it is no less, She being my Cousin German. Fare you well, Sir.

Mal.

I had forgot that, for this once forgive me. Only to ease the throbbing of my heart, (For I do feel strange pangs) instruct me what You will say for me.

Leon.

First, I'll tell her that She hath so far besotted you, that you have Almost forgot to cast accompt.

Mal.

Meer truth, Sir.

Leon.

That of a wise and provident Steward, You are turn'd stark Ass.

Mal.

Urge that point home, I am so.

Leon.

That you adore the ground she treads upon, And kiss her footsteps.

Mal.

As I do when I find their print in the snow.

Leon.

A loving fool I know it, By your bloudless frosty lips; then having related How much you suffer for her, and how well You do deserve it—

Mal.

How? to suffer?

Leon.

No, Sir, to have your love return'd.

Mal.

That's good, I thank you.

Leon.

I will deliver her an Inventory Of your good parts: as this, your precious nose Dropping affection; your high forehead reaching Almost to the Crown of your head; your slender waste, And a back not like a threshers, but a bending, And Court-like back, and so forth, for your Body. But when I touch your mind, for that must take her, (Since your out-side promises little) I'll enlarge it, (Though ne'r so narrow) as your arts to thrive, Your composition with the Cook and Butler For Cony-Skins and Chippings, and half a share With all the under Officers of the house, In strangers bounties, that she shall have all, And you as 'twere her Bailiff.

Mal.

As I will be.

Leon.

As you shall, so I'll promise. Then your qualities, As playing on a Gyttern, or a Jews-Trump.

Mal.

A little too on the Viol.

Leon.

Fear you nothing. Then singing her asleep with curious Catches Of your own making; for as I have heard, You are Poetical.

Mal.

Something given that way; Yet my works seldom thrive: and the main reason The Poets urge for't, is, because I am not As poor as they are.

Leon.

Very likely; fetch her While I am in the vein.

Mal.

'Tis an apt time, my Lady being at her Prayers

Leon.

Let her pray on. Nay go, and if upon my intercession She do you not some favour, I'll disclaim her; I'll ruminate on't the while.

Mal.

A hundred Crowns is your reward.

Leon.

Without 'em — nay no trifling.

Ex. Mal.

That this dull clod of ignorance should know How to get money, yet want eyes to see How grosly he's abus'd, and wrought upon! When he should make his will, the Rogue's turn'd rampant, As he had renew'd his youth; a handsome wench, Love one a spittle-whore would run away from? Well, Master Steward, I will plead for you In such a method, as it shall appear You are sit to be a property.

Enter Malfort, and Clarinda.

Mal.

Yonder he walks That knows my worth and value, though you scorn it.

Clar.

If my Lady know not this—

Mal.

I'll answer it: If you were a Nun I hope your Cousin German Might talk with you through a grate, but you are none, And therefore may come closer; ne'r hang off, As I live you shall bill; ye may salute as strangers, Custom allows it. Now, now, come upon her With all your Oratory, As a young Advocate should, and leave no Vertue Of mine unmentioned, I'll stand centinel; Nay keep the door my self.

Exit.

Clar.

How have you work'd This piece of motley to your ends?

Leon.

Of that at leasure, Mistriss.

Kissing.

Clar.

Lower, you are too loud, Though the fool be deaf, some of the house may hear you.

Leon.

Suppose they should, I am a Gentleman, And held your Kinsman, under that I hope I may be free.

Clar.

I grant it, but with caution; But be not seen to talk with me familiarly, But at fit distance, or not seen at all, It were the better; you know my Ladies humour, She is all honour, and compos'd of goodness, (As she pretends) and you having no business, How jealous may she grow?

Leon.

I will be rul'd. But you have promis'd, and I must enjoy you.

Clar.

We shall find time for that; you are too hasty, Make your self fit and I shall make occasion, Deliberation makes best in that business, And contents every way.

Leon.

But you must feed This foolish Steward with some shadow of A future favour, that we may preserve him To be our instrument.

Clar.

Hang him.

Leon.

For my sake, Sweet, I undertook to speak for him, any Bauble, Or slight employment in the way of service, Will feed him fat.

Enter Malfort.

Clar.

Leave him to me.

Mal.

She comes, my Lady.

Clar.

I will satisfie her.

Mal.

How far have you prevail'd?

Leon.

Observe.

Clar.

Monsi••ur Malfort, I must be brief, my cousin hath spoke much In your behalf, and to give you some proof, I entertain you as my servant, You shall have the grace.

Leon.

Upon your knee receive it.

Clar.

And take it as a special favour from me, To tye my shooe.

Malf.

I am o're-joy'd.

Leon.

Good reason.

Clar.

You may come higher in time.

Leon.

No more, the Lady.

Enter Calista.

Malf.

She frowns.

Clar.

I thank you for this visit cousin, But without leave hereafter from my Lady, I dare not change discourse with you.

Malf.

Pray you take your mornings draught.

Leon.

I thank you:

Exeunt Leon, Malf.

Happiness attend your honour.

Calist.

Who gave warrant to this private parle?

Clar.

My innocence; I hope My conference with a kinsman cannot call Your anger on me.

Calist.

Kinsman? Let me have No more of this, as you desire you may continue mine.

Clar.

Why madam (under pardon) Suppose him otherwise: yet coming in A lawfull way, it is excusable.

Calist.

How's this?

Clar.

I grant you are made of pureness, And that your tenderness of honour holds The soveraigntie o're your passions. Yet you have A noble Husband, with allow'd embraces, To quench lascivious fires, should such flame in you, As I must ne're believe. Were I the wife Of one that could but zanie brave Cleander, Even in his least perf••ctions, (excuse My o're-bold inference) I should desire To meet no other object.

Cal.

You grow fancie. Do I look further?

Clar.

No, dear Madam: and It is my wonder or astonishment rather, You could deny the service of Lisander; A man without a rival: one the King And Kingdom gazes on with admiration, For all the excellencies a Mother could Wish in her only Son.

Cal.

Did not mine honour And obligation to Cleander, force me To be deaf to his complaints?

Clar.

'Tis true; but yet Your rigor to command him from your presence, Argu'd but small compassion; the Groves Witness his grievous sufferings, your fair name Upon the rinde of every gentle Poplar, And amorous My••tle, (trees to Venus sacred) With adoration carv'd, and knee'ld unto, This you (uns••••n of him) both saw and heard Without compassion, and what receiv'd he For his true sorrows? but the heavy knowledge, That 'twas your peremptory will and pleasure, (How e're my Lord liv'd in him) he should quit Your sight and house for ever.

Cal.

I confess I gave him a strong potion to work Upon his hot bloud, and I hope 'twill cure him. Yet I could wish the cause had concern'd others, I might have met his sorrows with more pity; At least have lent some counsel to his miseries, Though now for honours sake, I must forget him, And never know the name more of Lisander: Yet in my justice I am bound to grant him, (Laying his love aside) most truely noble. But mention him no more, this instant hour My Brother Lidian, new return'd from travel, And his brave friend Clarange, long since rivals For fair and rich Olinda, are to hear Her absolute determination, whom She pleases to elect: see all things ready To entertain 'em: and on my displeasure No more words of Lisander.

Clar.

She endures to hear him nam'd by no tongue but her own. How e're she carries it, I know she loves him.

Exit.

Cal.

Hard nature: hard condition of poor women! That where we are most su'd to, we must flye most. The trees grow up, and mix together freely, The Oak's not envious of the sailing Cedar, The lustie Vine not jealous of the Ivie Because she clips the Elm; the flowers shoot up, And wantonly kiss one another hourly, This blossome glorying in the others beauty, And yet they smell as sweet, and look as lovely: But we are ty'd to grow alone. O honour, Thou hard Law to our lives, chain to our freedoms He that invented thee had many curses; How is my soul divided? O Cleander, My best deserving husband! O Lisander, The truest lover that e're sacrific'd To Cupid against Hymen! O mine honour; A Tyrant, yet to be obey'd! and 'tis But justice we should thy strict Laws endure, Since our obedience to thee keeps us pure.

Exit.

Enter Clender, Lidian, and Clarange.

Clean.

How insupportable the difference Of dear friends is, the sorrow that I feel For my Lisanders absence, one that stamps A reverend print on friendship, does assure me. You are rivals for a Lady, a fair Lady, And in the acquisition of her favours, Hazard the cutting of that Gordian knot From your first childhood to this present hour, By all the tyes of love and amity fasten'd. I am blest in a wife (Heaven make me thankfull) Inferiour to none (sans pride I speak it) Yet if I were a free-man, and could purchase At any rate the certainty to enjoy Lisanders conversation while I liv'd, Forgive me my Calista, and the Sex, I never would seek change.

Lid.

My Lord and Brother, I dare not blame your choice, Lisanders worth Being a Mistris to be ever courted; Nor shall our equal suit to fair Olinda Weaken, but adde strength to our true affection, With zeal so long continued.

Claran.

When we know Whom she prefers, as she can choose but one, By our so long tri'd friendship we have vow'd The other shall desist.

Clea.

'Tis yet your purpose, But how this resolution will hold In him that is refus'd, is not alone Doubtfull, but dangerous.

Enter Malfort.

Malf.

The rich heir is come Sir.

Cleand.

Madam Olinda?

Malf.

Yes Sir, and makes choice, After some little conference with my Lady, Of this room to give answer to her suitors.

Cle.

Already both look pale, between your hopes To win the prize, and your despair to lose What you contended for.

Lid.

No Sir, I am arm'd.

Clar.

I confident of my interest.

Cle.

I'le believe ye when you have endur'd the test.

Enter Calista, Olinda, and Clarinda.

Malf.

Is not your garter Unty'd? you promis'd that I should grow higher In doing you service.

Clar.

Fall off or you lose me.

Exit Malfort.

C••e.

Nay take your place, no Paris now sits judge On the contending goddesses. You are The Deitie that must make curst or happy One of your languishng servants.

Ol.

I thus look with equal eyes on both; either deserves A fairer fortune than they can in reason Hope for from m••; f••om Lidian I expect, When I have made him mine, all pleasures that The sweetness of his manners, youth, and vertues Can give assurance of: but turning this way To ••••av•• Claran••e, in his face appears A ••••nd of Maj••sty which should command, Not sue for favour. If the fairest Lady Of France, set forth with natures best endowments N•••• should I adde a Princess of the bloud, D•••• now lay claim to either for a husband, So vehement my affection is to both, My envie at her happiness would kill me.

Cle.

The strangest love I ever heard.

Cal.

You can enjoy but one.

Clar.

The more I say the merrier.

Oli.

Witness these tears I love both, as I know You burn with equal flames, and so affect me; Abundance makes me poor; such is the hard Condition of my fortune; be your own judges; If I should favour both, 'twill ••aint my honour, And that before my life I must prefer; ••f one I lean to, the other is disvalued; You are fierie both, and love will make you warmer.

Clar.

The warmer still the fitter. You are a fool Lady.

Oli.

To what may love, and the Devil jealousie spur you Is too apparent: my name's call'd in question: Your swords flie out, your angers range at large: Then what a murther of my modesty follows?

Clar.

Take heed of that by any means: O innocent, That will deny a blessing when 'tis offer'd, Would I were murther'd so, I would thank my modesty.

Cle.

What pause you on?

Oli.

It is at length resolv'd.

Clara.

We are on the Rack, uncertain expectation T••e greatest torture.

••••di.

Command what you please, And you shall see how willingly we will execute.

Oli.

Then hear what for your satisfaction, And to preserve your friendship I resolve Against my self, and 'tis not to be alter'd: You are both brave gentlemen, I'le still profess it, Both noble servants, for whose gentle offers, T••e undeserving, and the poor Olinda Is ever bound; you love both, fair, and vertuously; Would I could be so happy to content both: Which since I cannot, take this resolute answer; Go f••om me both contentedly, and he That last makes his return, and comes to visit, Comes to my bed. You know my will: farewel; M•• heart's too big to utter more: come friend.

Cal.

I'le wait on you to your Coach.

Exeunt Olinda, Calista, Clarinda.

C••e

You both look blank, I cannot blame you.

lad.

We have our dispatches.

Clarar.

I'le home.

lad

And I'le abroad again, Farewel.

Clarar.

Farewel to ye.

Exeunt Clarange, and Lidian.

C••e.

Their blunted departure troubles me: I fear A suddain and a dangerous division Of their long love will follow: have you took Your leave of fair Olinda?

Enter Calista, with a purse.

Cla.

She is gone Sir.

Cle.

Had you brought news Lisander were return'd too, I were most happy.

Cal.

Still upon Lisander?

Cle.

I know he loves me, as he loves his health And Heaven knows I love him.

Cal.

I find it so: For me you have forgot, and what I am to you.

Cle.

O think not so. If you had lost a Sister You lock'd all your delights in, it would grieve you: A little you would wander from the fondness You ow'd your husband: I have lost a friend, A noble friend, all that was excellent In man, or man-kind, was contain'd within him, That loss my wife—

Enter Malfort.

Malf.

Madam, your noble Father — A fee for my good news.

Cal.

Why? what of him Sir?

Mal.

Is lighted at the door, and longs to see you.

Calist.

Attend him hither.

Clean.

O my dear Lasander. But I'le be merry: let's meet him my Calista.

Cal.

I hope Lisanders love will now be buried: My Father will bring joy enough for one moneth, To put him out of memorie.

Enter Dorilaus, hi•• arm in a scarff.

Dor.

How do you Son? Bless my fair child, I am come to visit yee, To see what house you keep, they say you are bountifull, I like the noise well, and I come to trie it. Ne're a great belly yet? how have you trifl'd? If I had done so (Son) I should have heard on't On both sides by Saint Denis.

Clean.

You are nobly welcom Sir: We have time enough for that.

Dorilaus.

See how she blushes! 'Tis a good sign you'l mend your fault, how dost thou, My good Calista?

Cal.

Well, now I see you Sir; I hope you bring a fruitfulness along with ye.

Dor.

Good luck, I never miss, I was ever good at it: Your mother groan'd for't wench, so did some other, But I durst never tell.

Cal.

How does your arm Sir?

Cle.

Have you been let bloud of late?

Dor.

Against my will Sir.

Cal.

A fall dear Father?

Dor.

No, a Gun, dear Daughter; Two or three Guns; I have one here in my buttock, 'Twould trouble a Surgeons teeth to pull it out.

Cal.

O me! O me!

Dor.

Nay, if you fall to fainting, 'Tis time for me to trudge: art such a coward, At the meer name of hurt to change thy colour? I have been shot that men might see clean through me, And yet I fainted not: besides my self, Here a••e an hospital of hurt men for ye.

Enter Servants, wounded in several places.

Clean.

What should this wonder be?

Cal.

I am amaz'd at it.

Doril.

What think ye of these? they are every one hurt soundly, Hurt to the proof, they are through, and through I assure ye; And that's good game, they scorn your puling scratches.

Cal.

Who did this Sir?

Dor.

Leave crying, and I'le tell you,

And get your plaisters, and your warm stupes ready: Have you ne're a Shepheard that can tarr us over? 'Twill prove a business else, we are so many. Coming to see you, I was set upon, I and my men, as we were singing frolickly, Not dreaming of an ambush of base Rogues, Set on i'th' forest, I have forgot the name —

Cle.

'Twixt this, and Fountaine-Bleau, In the wild Forest?

Dor.

The same, the same, in that accursed Forest, Set on by villains, that make boot of all men, The Peers of France are pillage there, they shot at us, Hurt us, un-hors'd us, came to the sword, there pli'd us, Opprest us with fresh multitudes, fresh shot still, Rogues that would hang themselves for a fresh doublet, And for a Scarlet Cassock kill their Fathers.

Cle.

Lighted you among these?

Dor.

Among these murtherers, Our poor blouds were ingag'd: yet we strook bravely, And more than once or twice we made them shun us, And shrink their rugged heads: but we were hurt all.

Cle.

How came you off? for I even long to hear that.

Dor.

After our prayers made to Heaven to help us, Or to be mercifull unto our souls; So near we were. Alas poor wench, wipe, wipe. See Heaven sends remedy.

Cal.

I am glad 'tis come Sir, My heart was even a bleeding in my body.

Dor.

A curl'd hair Gentleman stept in, a stranger, As he rod by, belike he heard our bickering, Saw our distresses, drew his sword, and prov'd He came to execute, and not to argue. Lord what a lightning methought flew about him, When he once toss'd his blade! in face Adonis, While peace inhabited between his eye-brows: But when his noble anger stirr'd his metal, And blew his fierie parts into a flame, Like Pallas, when she sits between two armies, Viewing with horrid brows their sad events, Such then he look'd: and as her shield had arm'd him.

Cal.

This man Sir were a friend to give an age for. This Gentleman I must love naturally: Nothing can keep me off; I pray you go on Sir.

Dor.

I will, for now you please me: this brave youth, This bud of Mars, for yet he is no riper, When once he had drawn bloud, and flesh'd his sword, Fitted his manly metal to his spirit, How he bestirr'd him! what a lane he made! And through their fierie Bullets thrust securely: The hardned villains wondring at his confidence, Lame as I was I follow'd, and admir'd too, And stirr'd, and laid about me with new spirit, My men too with new hearts thrust into action, And down the Rogues went.

Cle.

I am struck with wonder.

Dor.

Remember but the storie of strong Hector, When like to lightning he broke through his vanguard, How the Greeks frighted ran away by Troops, And trod down Troops to save their lives: so this man Dispers'd these slaves: had they been more and mightier, He had come off the greater, and more wonder.

Cle.

Where is the man, good Sir, that we may honour him?

Cal.

That we may fall in superstition to him.

Dor.

I know not that, from me he late departed, But not without that pious care to see safe Me, and my weak men lodg'd, and dress'd; I urg'd him First hither, that I might more freely thank him: He told me he had business, crav'd my pardon, Business of much import.

Cle.

Know you his name?

Dor.

That he deny'd me too: a vow had bar'd him.

Cal.

In that he was not noble to be nameless.

Dor.

Daughter you must remember him when I am dead, And in a noble sort requite his piety, 'Twas his desire to dedicate this service To your fair thoughts.

Cal.

He knows me then?

Dor.

I nam'd you, And nam'd you mine: I think that's all his knowledge.

Cle.

No name, no being?

Cal.

Now I am mad to know him: Saving mine honour, any thing I had now But to enjoy his sight, but his bare picture; Make me his Saint, I must needs honour him.

Serv.

I know his name.

Cal.

There's thy reward for't; speak it.

Ser.

His man told me, but he desir'd my silence.

Cal.

O Jasper speak, 'tis thy good Masters cause too: We all are bound in gratitude to compel thee.

Ser.

Lisander? Yes, I am sure it was Lisander.

Cal.

Lisander? 'twas Lisander.

Cle.

'Tis Lisander. O my base thoughts! my wicked! To make question this act could be another mans: 'Tis Lisander, a handsome timber'd man?

Ser.

Yes.

Cle.

My Lisander! Was this friends absence to be mourn'd?

Cal.

I grant it: I'le mourn his going now, and mourn it seriously: When you weep for him, Sir, I'le bear you company. That so much honour, so much honesty Should be in one man, to do things thus bravely, Make me his Saint, to me give this brave service: What may I do to recompence his goodness? I cannot tell.

Cle.

Come Sir, I know you are sickly, so are your men.

Dor.

I must confess I am weak, And fitter for a bed than long discourses.

Cle.

You shall hear to morrow, to morrow provide Surgeons.

Dor.

Lisander —

Cal.

What new fire is this? Lisander—

Exeunt.