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 Clarinda with a Key, and Leon.

Leon.

THis happy Night.

Kisses her.

Clar.

Preserve this eagerness Till we meet nearer, there is something done Will give us opportunity.

Leon.

Witty Girl, the plot?

Clar.

You shall hear that at leisure, The whole house reels with joy at the report Of Lidians safety, and that joy encreas'd From their affection to the brave Lisander, In being made the happy instrument to compound The bloudy difference.

Leon.

They will hear shortly that Will turn their mirth to mourning, he was then The principal means to save two lives, but since There are two faln, and by his single hand, For which his life must answer, if the King, Whose arm is long, can reach him.

Clar.

We have now no spare time to hear stories, take this Key, 'Twill make your passage to the banquetting house I'th' Garden free.

Leon.

You will not fail to come?

Clar.

For mine own sake ne'r doubt it; now for Lisander.

Exit.

Enter Dorilaus, Cleander, Servants with lights.

Dor.

To bed, to bed, 'tis very late.

Clean.

To bed all, I have drunk a health too much.

Dor.

You'll sleep the better, My usual physick that way.

Clean.

Where's your Mistriss?

Clar.

She is above, but very ill, and aguish; The late fright of her Brother has much troubl'd her: She would entreat to lye alone.

Clean.

Her pleasure.

Dor.

Commend my love to her, and my Prayers for her health, I'll see her ere I go.

Exeunt; manet Clarinda.

Clar.

All good rest to ye; Now to my watch for Lisander, when he is furnish'd, For mine own friend, since I stand Centinel, I love to laugh i'th' evenings too, and may, The priviledg of my place will warrant it.

Exit.

Enter Lisander, and Lancelot.

Lis.

You have done well hitherto; where are we now?

Lanc.

Not far from the house, I hear by th' Owls, There are many of your Welch falkoners about it; Here were a night to chuse to run away with Another mans Wife, and do the feat.

Lis.

Peace Knave, The house is here before us, and some may hear us; The Candles are all out.

Lanc.

But one i'th' Parlour, I see it simper hither, pray come this way.

Lis.

Step to the Garden-door, and feel and 't be open.

Lan.

I am going, luck deliver me from the saw pits, Or I am buried quick; I hear a Dog, No, 'tis a Cricket, ha? here's a Cuckold buried, Take heed of his horns, Sir, here's the door, 'tis open.

Clarinda at the door.

Clar.

Who's there?

Lis.

Friend.

Clar.

Sir, Lisander?

Lis.

I.

Clar.

Ye are welcome, follow me, and make no noise.

Lis.

Go to your horse, and keep your watch with care, And be sure ye sleep not.

Exeunt Lisander, Clarinda. Sirrah,

Lan.

Send me out the Dairy-maid To play at trump with me, and keep me waking, My fellow horse and I must now discourse Like two learned Almanack-Makers, of the Stars, And tell what a plentiful year 'twill prove of Drunkards. If I had but a pottle of Sack, like a sharp prickle, To knock my Nose against when I am nodding, I should sing like a Nightingale, but I must Keep watch without it, I am apt to dance, Good fortune guide me from the Faries Circles.

Exit.

Enter Clarinda with a Taper, and Lisander with a Pistol, two Chairs set out.

Clar.

Come near,

Calista sitting behind a Curtain.

I'll leave ye now, draw but that Curtain, And have your wish; now, Leon, I am for thee, We that are servants must make use of stoln hours, And be glad of snatch'd occasions.

Exit.

Lis.

She is asleep, Fierce Love hath clos'd his lights, I may look on her, Within her eyes 'has lo••kt the graces up, I may behold and live; how sweet she breaths! The orient morning breaking out in odours Is not so full of perfumes, as her breath is; She is the abstract of all Excellence, and scorns a Parallel.

Cal.

Who's there?

Lis.

Your servant, your most obedient slave (adored Lady) That comes but to behold those eyes again, And pay some Vows I have to sacred Beauty, And so pass by; I am blind as ignorance, And know not where I wander, how I live, Till I receive from their bright influence Light to direct me, for Devotions sake, You are the Saint I tread these holy steps to, And holy Saints are all relenting sweetness, Be not enrag'd, nor be not angry with me; The greatest attribute of Heaven is mercy; And 'tis the Crown of Justice, and the glory Where it may kill with right, to save with pity.

Cal.

Why do you kneel? I know you come to mock me, T'upbraid me with the benefits you have giv'n me, Which are too many, and too mighty, Sir, For my return; and I confess 'tis justice, That for my cruelty you should despise me, And I expect however you are calm now, A foyl you strive to set your cause upon, It will break out; Calista is unworthy, Coy, proud, disdainful, I acknowledge all, Colder of Comfort than the frozen North is, And more a stranger to Lisanders worth, His youth and faith, than it becomes her gratitude, I blush to grant it, yet take this along, A soveraign medicine to allay displeasure, May be an argument to bring me off too; She is married, and she is chaste, how sweet that sounds? How it perfumes all air 'tis spoken in? O dear Lisander! would you break this union?

Lis

No, I adore it; let me kiss your hand, And seal the fair faith of a Gentleman on it.

Cal.

You are truly valiant, would it not afflict ye To have the horrid name of Coward touch you? S••ch is the Whore to me.

Lis.

I nobly thank ye; And may I be the same when I dishonour ye; This I may do again.

Kissing her hand.

Cal.

Ye may, and worthily; Such comforts Maids may grant with modesty, And neither make her poor nor wrong her bounty; Noble Lisander, how fond now am I of ye? I heard you were hurt.

Lis.

You dare not heal me, Lady? I am hurt here; how sweetly now she blushes? Excellent Objects kill our sight, she blinds me; The Roses in the pride of May shew pale to her; O Tyrant, Custom! and O Coward, Honour! How ye compel me to put on mine own Chains? May I not kiss ye now in superstition? For you appear a thing that I would kneel to; Let me err that way.

Kisses her.

Cal.

Ye shall err for once, I have a kind of noble pity on you, Among your manly sufferings, make this most, To err no farther in desire, for then, Sir, You add unto the gratitudes I owe you; And after death, your dear friends soul shall bless you.

Lis.

I am wondrous honest.

Cal.

I dare try.

Kisses.

Lis.

I have tasted a blessedness too great for dull mortality, Once more, and let me dye.

Cal.

I dare not murther, How will maids curse me if I kill with kisses? And young men flye th' embraces of fair Virgins? Come, pray sit down, but let's talk temperately.

Lis.

Is my dear friend abed?

Cal.

Yes, and asleep; Secure asleep, 'tis midnight too, Lisander, Speak not so loud.

Lis.

You see I am a Statue, I could not stand else as I had eaten Ice, Or took into my bloud a drowzie Poyson, And Natures noblest, brightest flame burns in me; Midnight? and I stand quietly to behold it so? The Alarm rung, and I sleep like a Coward? I am worn away, my faith, my dull obedience Like Crutches, carry my decayed Body Down to the Grave, I have no youth within me, Yet happily you love too.

Cal.

Love with honour.

Lis.

Honour? what's that? 'tis but a specious title We should not prize too high.

Cal.

Dearer than life.

Lis.

The value of it is as time hath made it, And time and custome have too far insulted, We are no gods, to be always tyed to strictness, 'Tis a presumption to shew too like 'em; March but an hour or two under Loves Ensigns, We have Examples of great memories—

Cal.

But soul ones too, that greatness cannot cover, That Wise that by Example sins, sins double, And pulls the Curtain open to her shame too; Methinks to enjoy you thus—

Lis.

'Tis no joy, Lady, A longing Bride if she stop here, would cry, The Bridegroom too, and with just cause curse Hymen; But yield a little, be one hour a Woman, (I do not speak this to compel you, Lady) And give your Will but motion, let it stir But in the taste of that weak fears call evil, Try it to understand it, we'll do nothing, You'll ne'r come to know pure good else.

Cal.

Fie, Sir.

Lis.

I have found a way, let's slip into this errour As Innocents, that know not what we did; As we were dreaming both, let us embrace; The sin is none of ours then, but our fancies; What have I said? what blasphemy to honour? O my base thoughts! pray ye take this and shoot me. My Villain thoughts!

Noise within.

Cal.

I weep your miseries, and would to heaven— what noise?

Lis.

It comes on louder. Kill me, and save your self; save your fair honour, And lay the fault on me, let my life perish, My base lascivious life, shoot quickly, Lady.

Cal.

Not for the World, retire behind the hangings, And there stand close— my husband, close, Lisander,

Enter Cleander with a Taper.

Clean.

Dearest, are you well?

Cal.

O my sad heart, my head, my head.

Clean.

Alas, poor soul! what do you do out of your bed? You take cold, my Calista; how do ye?

Cal.

Not so well, Sir, to lie by ye, my Brothers fright—

Clean.

I had a frightful dream too, A very frightful dream, my best Calista; Methought there came a Dragon to your Chamber, A furious Dragon (Wife) I yet shake at it; Are all things well?

Lis.

Shall I shoot him?

Cal.

No, all well, Sir, 'Twas but your care of me, your loving care, Which always watches.

Clean.

And methought he came As if he had risen thus out of his Den, As I do from these Hangings.

Lis.

Dead.

Cal.

Hold, good Sir.

Clean.

And forc'd ye in his arms thus.

Cal.

'Twas but fancy That troubled ye, here's nothing to disturb me, Good Sir, to rest again, and I am now drowzie, And will to bed; make no noise, dear Husband, But let me sleep; before you can call any body, I am abed.

Clean.

This, and sweet rest dwell with ye.

Exit.

Cal.

Come out again, and as you love, Lisander,

Make haste away, you see his mind is troubled; Do you know the door ye came in at?

L••s.

Well, sweet Lady.

Cal.

And can ye hit it readily?

Lis.

I warrant ye; And must I go? Must here end all my happiness? Here in a dream, as if it had no substance?

Cal.

For this time, friend, or here begin our ruins; We are both miserable.

Lis.

This is some comfort In my afflictions; they are so full already, They can find no encrease.

Cal.

Dear, speak no more.

Lis.

You must be silent then.

Cal.

Farewel, Lisander, thou joy of man, farewel.

Lis.

Farewel, bright Lady, Honour of woman-kind, a heavenly blessing.

Cal.

Be ever honest.

Lis.

I will be a dog else; The vertues of your mind I'll make my Library, In which I'll study the celestial beauty; Your Constancy, my Armour that I'll fight in; And on my Sword your Chastity shall sit, Terrour to rebel bloud.

Cal.

Once more, farewel;

Noise within.

O that my modesty cou'd hold you still, Sir— he comes again.

Lis.

Heaven keep my hand from murther, Murther of him I love.

Cal.

Away, dear friend, Down to the Garden stairs, that way, Lisander, We are betray'd else.

Enter Cleander.

Lis.

Honour guard the innocent.

Exit Lisander.

Clean.

Still up? I fear'd your health.

Cal.

'Has miss'd him happily; I am going now, I have done my meditations, My heart's almost at peace.

Clean.

To my warm Bed then.

Cal.

I will, pray ye lead.

A Pistol shot within.

Clean.

A Pistol shot i'th' house? At these hours? sure some thief, some murtherer; Rise, ho! rise all, I am betray'd.

Cal

O Fortune! O giddy thing! he has met some opposition, And kill'd; I am confounded, lost for ever.

Enter Dorilaus.

Dor.

Now, what's the matter?

Clean.

Thieves, my noble Father, Villains and Rogues.

Dor.

Indeed! I heard a Pistol, let's search about.

Enter Malfort, Clarinda, and Servants.

Mal.

To bed again, they are gone, Sir, I will not bid you thank my valour sor't; Gone at the Garden door; there were a dozen, And bravely arm'd, I saw 'em.

Clar.

I am glad, glad at the heart.

Serv.

One shot at me, and miss'd me.

Mal.

No, 'twas at me, the Bullet slew close by me, Close by my ear; another had a huge Sword, Flourish'd it thus; but at the point I met him, But the Rogue taking me to be your Lordship, (As sure your Name is terrible, and we Not much unlike in the dark) roar'd out aloud, 'Tis the kill Crow, Dorilaus, and away They ran as they had flown; now you must love me, Or fear me for my Courage, Wench.

Clar.

O Rogue! O lying Rogue, Lisander stumbled, Madam, At the Stairs head, and in the fall the shot went off; Was gone before they rose.

Cal.

I thank Heaven for't.

Clar.

I was frighted too, it spoil'd my game with Leon.

Cle.

You must sit up; and they had come to your Chamber What pranks would they have plaid? how came the door open?

Ma.

I heard 'em when they forc'd it; up I rose, Took Durindana in my hand; and like Orlando, issu'd forth.

Clar.

I know you are valiant.

Clean.

To bed again, And be you henceforth provident, at sun-rising We must part for a while.

Dor.

When you are a bed, Take leave of her, there 'twill be worth the taking; Here 'tis but a cold Ceremony, ere long We'll find Lisander, or we have ill-fortune.

Clean.

Lock all the doors fast.

Mal.

Though they all stood open, My name writ on the door, they dare not enter.

Exeunt.

Enter Clarange, Fryar with a letter.

Clar.

Turn'd Hermit?

Fry.

Yes, and a devout one too; I heard him preach.

Clar.

That lessens my belief, For though I grant my Lidian a Scholar, As far as fits a Gentleman, he hath studied Humanity, and in that he is a Master; Civility of manners, Courtship, Arms; But never aim'd at (as I could perceive) The deep points of Divinity.

Fry.

That confirms his Devotion to be real, no way tainted With ostentation, or hyprocisie, The cankers of Religion; his Sermon So full of gravity, and with such sweetness Deliver'd, that it drew the admiration Of all the hearers on him; his own Letters To you, which witness he will leave the World, And these to fair Olinda, his late Mistriss, In which he hath with all the moving language That ever express'd Rhetorick, solicited The Lady to forget him, and make you Blessed in her embraces, may remove All scrupulous doubts.

Clar.

It strikes a sadness in me. I know not what to think of 't.

Fry.

Ere he entred His solitary Cell, he pen'd a Ditty, His long, and last farewel to Love and Women, So feelingly, that I confess however It stands not with my order to be taken With such poetical Raptures; I was mov'd, And strangely with it.

C ar.

Have you the Copy?

Fry.

Yes, Sir; My Novice too can sing it, if you please To give him hearing.

Clar.

And it will come timely, For I am full of melancholy thoughts, Against which I have heard with reason Musick To be the speediest cure, 'pray you apply it.

A Song by the Novice.

A Dieu sond love, farewel you wanton powers, I am free again; Thou dull Disease of bloud, and idle hours; Bewitching pain, Flye to the Fools that sigh away their time, My nobler love to Heaven doth climb, And there behold Beauty still young, That Time can ne'r corrupt, nor Death destroy; Immortal sweetness by fair Angels sung, And honour'd by Eternity and Joy: There lives my love, thither my hopes aspire, Fond love declines, this heavenly loves grows higher.

Fri.

How do ye approve it?

Claran.

To its due desert, It is a Heavenly Hymn, no ditty Father, It passes through my ears unto my soul, And works divinely on it; give me leave A little to consider; shall I be Outdone in all things? nor good of my self, No•• by example? shall my loose hope still, The viands of a fond affection, feed me As I were a sensual beast? spiritual food Refus'd by my sick palat? 'tis resolv'd. How far off Father, doth this new made Hermit Make his abode?

Fri.

Some two dayes journey Son.

Clar.

Having reveal'd my fair intentions to ye, I hope your piety will not deny me Your aids to further 'em?

Fri.

That were against a good mans charity.

Clar.

My first request is, You would some time, for reasons I will shew you, Defer delivery of Lidians Letters To fair Olinda.

Fri.

Well Sir.

Clar.

For what follows, You shall direct me; something I will do, A new born zeal, and friendship prompts me to.

Ex.

Enter Dorilaus, Cleander, Chamberlain, Table, Tapers, and three stools.

Clea.

We have supp'd well friend; let our beds be ready, We must be stirring early.

Cham.

They are made Sir.

Dor.

I cannot sleep yet, where's the jovial host You told me of? 'thas been my custom ever To parley with mine host.

Clea.

He's a good fellow, And such a one I know you love to laugh with; Go call your Master up.

Cham.

He cannot come Sir.

Dor.

Is he a bed with his wife?

Cham.

No certainly.

Dor.

Or with some other guests?

Cham.

Neither and 't like ye.

Clea.

Why then he shall come by your leave my friend, I'le fetch him up my self.

Cham.

Indeed you'l fail Sir.

Dor.

Is he i'th' house?

Cham.

No, but he is hard by Sir; He is fast in's grave, he has been dead these three weeks.

Dor.

Then o' my conscience he will come but lamely, And discourse worse.

Clean.

Farewel mine honest Host then, Mine honest merry Host; will you to bed yet?

Dor.

No, not this hour, I prethee sit and chat by me.

Clean.

Give us a quart of wine then, we'l be merry.

Dor.

A match my Son; pray let your wine be living, Or lay it by your Master.

Cham.

It shall be quick Sir.

Exit.

Dor.

Has not mine Host a wife?

〈◊〉〈◊〉.

A good old woman.

Dor.

Another coffin, that is not so handsom; Your Hostesses in Innes should be blith things, Pretty, and young to draw in passengers; She'l never fill her beds well, if she be not beauteous.

Clean.

And courteous too.

Enter Chamberlain, with wine.

Dor.

I, I, and a good fellow, That will mistake sometimes a Gentleman For her good man; well done; here's to Lisander.

Clean.

My full love meets it; make fire in our lodgings, We'l trouble thee no farther; to your Son.

Ex. Cham.

Dor.

Put in Clarange too; off with't, I thank ye; This wine drinks merrier still, O for mine Host now, Were he alive again, and well dispos'd, I would so claw his pate.

Clean.

Y'are a hard drinker.

Dor.

I love to make mine Host drunk, he will lye then The rarest, and the roundest, of his friends, His quarrels, and his guests, and they are the best bands too, Take 'em in that tune.

Clean.

You know all.

Dor.

I did Son, but time, and arms have worn me out.

Clea.

'Tis late Sir, I hear none stirring.

A lute is struck

Dor.

Hark, what's that, a Lute? 'Tis at the door I think.

Clean.

The doors are shut fast.

Dor.

'Tis morning sure, the Fiddlers are got up To fright mens sleeps, have we ne're a pispot ready?

Clean.

Now I remember, I have heard mine Host that's dead, Touch a lute rarely, and as rarely sing too, A brave still mean.

Dor.

I would give a brace of French Crowns To see him rise and Fiddle— Hark, a Song.

A SONG.

'TIS late and cold, stir up the fire; Sit close, and draw the Table nigher; Be merry, and drink wine that's old, A hearty medicine 'gainst a cold. Your bed of wanton down's the best, Where you shall tumble to your rest; I could wish you wenches too, But I am dead and cannot do; Call for the best the house may ring, Sack, White, and Claret let them bring, And drink apace while breath you have, You'l find but cold drink in the grave; Plover, Partridge for your dinner, And a Capon for the sinner, You shall find ready when you are up, And your horse shall have his sup: Welcom welcom shall flye round, And I shall smile though under ground.

Clean.

Now as I live, it is his voice.

Dor.

He sings well, the Devil has a pleasant pipe.

Clean.

The fellow lyed sure.

Enter Host.

He is not dead, he's here: how pale he looks!

Dor.

Is this he?

Clean.

Yes.

Host.

You are welcom noble Gentlemen, My brave old guest most welcom.

Clean.

Lying knaves, To tell us you were dead, come sit down by us, We thank ye for your Song.

Host.

Would 't had been better.

Dor.

Speak, are ye dead?

Host.

Yes indeed am I Gentlemen, I have been dead these three weeks.

Dor.

Then here's to ye, to comfort your cold body.

Clean.

What do ye mean? stand further off.

Dor.

I will stand nearer to him, Shall he come out on's coffin to bear us company, And we not bid him welcom? come mine Host, Mine honest Host, here's to ye.

Host.

Spirits Sir, drink not.

Clea.

Why do ye appear?

Host.

To wait upon ye Gentlemen, 'Thas been my duty living, now my farewel; I fear ye are not us'd accordingly.

Dor.

I could wish you warmer company mine Host, How ever we are us'd.

Host.

Next to entreat a courtesie, And then I go to peace.

Clea.

Is't in our power?

Host.

Yes and 'tis this, to see my body buried In holy ground, for now I lye unhallowed, By the clacks fault; let my new grave be made Amongst good fellows, that have died before me, And merry Hostes of my kind.

Clea.

It shall be done.

Dor.

And forty stoops of wine drank at thy funeral.

Clea.

Do you know our travel?

Host.

Yes, to seek your friends, That in afflictions wander now.

Clean.

Alas!

Host.

Seek 'em no farther, but be confident They shall return in peace.

Dor.

There's comfort yet.

Clea.

Pray ye one word more, is't in your power mine Host, Answer me softly, some hours before my death, To give me warning?

Host.

I cannot tell ye truly, But if I can, so much alive I lov'd ye, I will appear again, adieu.

Exit.

Dor.

Adieu, Sir.

Cle.

I am troubl'd; these strange apparitions are For the most part fatal.

Dor.

This if told, will not Find credit, the light breaks a pace, let's lie down And take some little rest, an hour or two, Then do mine host's desire, and so return, I do believe him.

Clean.

So do I, to rest, Sir.

Exeunt.

Enter Calista, and Clarinda.

Cal.

Clarinda?

Clarin.

Madam.

Cal.

Is the house well ordered? The doors look'd to now in your Masters absence? Your care, and diligence amongst the Servants?

Clarin.

I am stirring, Madam.

Cal.

So thou art, Clarinda, More than thou ought'st I am sure, why dost thou blush?

Clarin.

I do not blush.

Cal.

Why dost thou hang thy head wench?

Clarin.

Madam, ye are deceiv'd, I look upright, I understand ye not: she has spied Leon,

Aside.

Shame of his want of caution.

Cal.

Look on me; what, blush again?

Clarin.

'Tis more than I know, Madam; I have no cause that I find yet.

Cal.

Examine then.

Clarin.

Your Ladyship is set I think to shame me.

Cal.

Do not deserv't, who lay with you last night? What bed-fellow had ye? none of the maids came near ye.

Clarin.

Madam, they did.

Cal.

'Twas one in your Cousins cloaths then, And wore a sword; and sure I keep no Amazons; Wench do not lye, 'twill but proclaim thee guilty; Lyes hide our sins like nets; like perspectives, They draw offences nearer still, and greater: Come, tell the truth.

Clarin.

You are the strangest Lady To have these doubts of me; how have I liv'd, Madam? And which of all my careful services deserves these shames?

Cal.

Leave facing, 'twill not serve ye, This impudence becomes thee worse than lying. I thought ye had liv'd well, and I was proud of 't; But you are pleas'd to abuse my thoughts; who was't? Honest repentance yet will make the fault less.

Clarin.

Do ye compel me? do you stand so strict too? Nay, then have at ye; I shall rub that sore, Madam, (Since ye provoke me) will but vex your Ladyship; Let me alone.

Cal.

I will know.

Clarin.

For your own peace, The peace of your own conscience ask no farther; Walk in, and let me alone.

Cal.

No, I will know all.

Clar.

Why, then I'le tell ye, 'twas a man I lay with, Never admire, 'tis easie to be done, Madam, And usual too, a proper man I lay with; Why should you vex at that? young as Lisander, And able too; I grudge not at your pleasure, Why should you stir at mine? I steal none from ye.

Cal.

And dost thou glory in this sin?

Cla.

I am glad on't, to glory in't is for a mighty Lady That may command.

Cal.

Why didst thou name Lisander?

Clari.

Does it anger ye? does it a little gall ye? I know it does, why would ye urge me Lady? Why would ye be so curious to compel me? I nam'd Lisander as my president, The rule I err'd by, you love him, I know it, I grudg'd not at it, but am pleas'd it is so; And by my care and diligence you enjoy'd him, Shall I for keeping counsel, have no comfort? Will you have all your self? ingross all pleasure Are ye so hard hearted? why do ye blush now, Madam?

Cal.

My anger blushes, not my shame, base woman.

Clari.

I'le make your shame blush, since you put me to't. Who lay with you t'other night?

Cal.

With me? ye monster.

Clari.

Whose sweet embraces circled ye? not your husbands; I wonder ye dare touch me in this point, Madam? Stir her against ye in whose hand your life lies? More than your life, your honour? what smug Amazon Was that I brought you? that maid had ne're a petticoat?

Cal.

She'l half perswade me anon, I am a beast too, And I mistrust my self, though I am honest For giving her the Helm, thou knowest, Clarinda, (Ev'n in thy conscience) I was ever vertuous; As far from lust in meeting with Lisander, As the pure wind in welcoming the morning; In all the coversation I had with him, As free, and innocent, as you fair Heaven; Didst not thou perswade me too?

Clarin.

Yes, I had reason for't, And now you are perswaded I'le make use on't.

Cal.

If I had sin'd thus, and my youth entic'd me, The nobleness and beauty of his person, Beside the mighty benefits I am bound to, Is this sufficient warrant for thy weakness? If I had been a whore, and crav'd thy counsel In the conveyance of my fault and faithfulness, Thy secrecie, and truth in hiding of it; Is it thy justice to repay me thus? To be the Master sinner to compel me? And build thy lusts security on mine honour?

Cla.

They that love this sin, love their security; Prevention, Madam, is the nail I knock'd at, And I have hit it home, and so I'le hold it, And you must pardon me, and be silent too, And suffer what ye see, and suffer patiently; I shall do worse else.

Cal.

Thou canst not touch my credit: Truth will not suffer me to be abus'd thus.

Clarin.

Do not you stick to truth, she is seldom heard, Madam, A poor weak tongue she has, and that is hoarse too With pleading at the bars, none understand her, Or if you had her, what can she say for ye? Must she not swear he came at midnight to ye, The door left open, and your husband cozen'd With a feign'd sickness?

Cal.

But by my soul I was honest, thou know'st I was honest.

Clarin.

That's all one what I know, What I will testifie is that shall vex ye; Trust not a guilty rage with likelihoods, And on apparent proof, take heed of that, Madam; If you were innocent (as it may be ye are) I do not know, I leave it to your conscience,

It were the weakest and the poorest part of ye, Men being so willing to believe the worst, So open eyed in this age to all infamie, To put your fame in this weak bark to the venture.

Cal.

What do I suffer! O my precious honour, Into what box of evils have I lock'd thee! Yet rather than be thus outbrav'd, and by My drudg, my footstool, one that sued to be so; Perish both life, and honour. Devil thus I dare thy worst, defie thee, spit at thee, And in my vertuous rage, thus trample on thee; Awe me thy Mistris, whore, to be thy baud? Out of my house, proclaim all that thou knowest, Or malice can invent, fetch jealousie From Hell, and like a furie breath it in The bosom of my Lord; and to thy utmost Blast my fair fame, yet thou shalt feel with horror To thy sear'd conscience, my truth is built On such a firm base, that if e're it can Be forc'd, or undermin'd by thy base scandals,

Exit.

Heaven keeps no guard on innocence.

Clarin.

I am lost, In my own hopes forsaken, and must fall The greatest torment to a guilty woman Without revenge, till I can fashion it I must submit, at least appear as if I did repent, and would offend no farther. Monsieur Beronte my Lords Brother is Oblig'd unto me for a private favour; 'Tis he must mediate for me; but when time And opportunity bids me strike, my wreak Shall pour it self on her nice chastitie Like to a torrent, deeds, not words shall speak me.

Exit.