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.

SCENE VI.

Enter two Keepers.

1 Keep.

Carry mad Bess some meat, she roars like Thunder; And tie the Parson short, the Moon's i'th' full, H'as a thousand Pigs in's brains: Who looks to the Prentice? Keep him from Women, he thinks h'as lost his Mistris; And talk of no silk stuffs, 'twill run him horn mad.

2 Keep.

The Justice keeps such a stir yonder with his Charges, And such a coil with warrants.

1 Keep.

Take away his Statutes; The Devil has possest him in the likeness Of penal Laws: keep him from Aqua vitae, For if that spirit creep into his Quorum, He will commit us all: how is it with the Scholar?

2 Keep.

For any thing I see, he's in his right wits.

1 Keep.

Thou art an ass; in's right wits, goodman coxcomb? As though any man durst be in's right wits, and be here. It is as much as we dare be that keep 'em.

Enter English madman.

Engl.

Give me some drink.

1 Keep.

O, there's the English man.

Engl.

Fill me a thousand pots, and froth 'em, froth 'em. Down o' your knees, ye Rogues, and pledge me roundly; One, two, three, and four; we shall all be merry within this hour. To the great Turk.

1 Keep.

Peace, peace thou Heathen drunkard; These English are so Malt-mad, there's no medling with 'em: When they have a fruitful year of Barly there, All the whole Island's thus.

Engl.

A snuff, a snuff, a snuff. A lewd notorious snuff: give't him again, boy.

Enter she-fool.

Fool.

God-ye-good even, Gaffer.

2 Keep.

Who let the Fool loose?

1 Keep.

If any of the mad-men take her, she is pepper'd, They'll bounce her loins.

Fool.

Will ye walk into the coal house?

1 Keep.

She is as leacherous too as a she Ferret.

2 Keep.

Who a vengeance looks to her? go in Kate, I'le give thee a fine Apple.

Fool.

Will ye buss me? And tickle me, and make me laugh?

1 Keep.

I'le whip ye.

Engl.

Fool, fool, come up to me fool.

Fool.

Are ye peeping?

Engl.

I'le get thee with five fools.

Fool.

O fine, O dainty.

Engl.

And thou shalt lie in a horse-cloth, like a Lady.

Fool.

And shall I have a Coach?

Engl.

Drawn with four Turkeys, And they shall tread thee too.

Fool.

We shall have eggs then; And shall I sit upon 'em?

Engl.

I, I, and they shall be all addle, And make an admirable Tanzey for the Devil. Come, come away, I am taken with thy love fool, And will mightily belabour thee.

1 Keep.

How the fool bridles? how she twitters at him? These English men would stagger a wise woman. If we should suffer her to have her will now, We should have all the women in Spain as mad as she here.

2 Keep.

They would strive who should be most fool: Away with her.

Enter Master, three Gentlemen, a mad Scholar, and Pedro.

Fool.

Pray ye stay a little: let's hear him sing, h'as a fine breast.

1 Keep.

Here comes my Master; to the spit ye whore, And stir no more abroad, but tend your business; You shall have no more sops i'th' pan else, nor no Porridge: Besides, I'le whip your breech.

Fool.

I'le go in presently.

1 Gent.

I'le assure ye, Sir, the Cardinal's angry with ye For keeping this young man.

Mast.

I am heartily sorry. If ye allow him sound, pray ye take him with ye.

1 Gent.

This is the place, and now observe their humours.

2 Gent.

We can find nothing in him light, nor tainted; No startings, nor no rubs, in all his answers, In all his Letters nothing but discretion, Learning, and handsome stile.

Mast.

Be not deceived, Sir, Mark but his look.

1 Gent.

His grief, and his imprisonment May stamp that there.

Mast.

Pray talk with him again then.

2 Gent.

That will be needless, we have tried him long enough, And if he had a taint we should have met with't. Yet to discharge your care—

Ped.

A sober youth: Pity so heavy a cross should light upon him.

2 Gent.

You find no sickness?

Schol.

None Sir, I thank Heaven, Nor nothing that diverts my understanding.

1 Gent.

Do you sleep a nights?

Schol.

As sound, and sweet, as any man.

2 Gent.

Have ye no fearful dreams?

Schol.

Sometimes, as all have That go to bed with raw and windy stomachs; Else I am all one piece.

1 Gent.

Is there no unkindness You have conceiv'd from any friend or parent? Or scorn from what ye lov'd?

Schol.

No, truely Sir: I never yet was master of a faith So poor, and weak, to doubt my friend or kindred, And what love is, unless it lie in learning I think I am ignorant.

1 Gent.

This man is perfect, A civiller discourser I ne'r talk'd with.

Mast.

You'l find it otherwise.

2 Gent.

I must tell ye true, Sir, I think ye keep him here to teach him madness. Here's his discharge from my Lord Cardinal; And come Sir, go with us.

Schol.

I am bound unto ye, And farewel Master.

Mast.

Farewel Stephano, Alas poor man.

1 Gent.

What flaws, and whi••l••s of weather, O•• rather storms have been aloft these three daies; How dark, and hot, and fu•••• of mutiny! And still grows loud••r.

Mast.

It has been stubborn w••ather

2 Gent.

Strange work at Sea, I fear m•• there's old tumbling

1 Gent.

Bless my old Unkles Bark, I have a ••••nture.

2 Gent.

And I more than I would wish to lose

Sch••l.

Do you fear?

2 Gent.

Ha! how he looks?

Mast.

Nay, mark 〈◊〉〈◊〉 b••tter Gentlemen.

2 Gent.

Mercy upon m••: how his ••y••s are altered

Mast.

Now tell me how ye like him: wheth•••• now He be that p ••f••ct man ye credited?

Schol.

Do's the Sea stagger ye?

Mast.

Now ye have hit the nick

Schol.

Do ye fear the billows?

1 Gent.

What ails him? who has stir'd him?

Schol.

Be not shaken, Nor let the singing of the storm shoot through ye, Let it blow on, blow on: let the clouds wrastle, And let the vapours of the earth turn mutinous. The Sea in hideous mountains rise and tumble Upon a Dolphins back, I'le make all tr••mbl••, For I am Neptune.

Mast.

Now what think ye of him?

2 Gent.

Alas poor man.

Schol.

Your Bark shall plough through all, And not a Singe so fancy to disturb her. I'le see h••r safe, my power shall sail b••fore her

Down ye an••ry waters all, Ye loud whistling whi••l••winds fall; Down ye proud Waves, ye storms cease; I command ye, be at peace. Fright not with your churl••sh Notes, Nor bruise the Keel of ••ark that slotes: No devouring Fish come nigh, Nor Monster in my Empery, Once shew his head, or terror bring; But let the weary Saylor sing: Amphitrite with white arms Strike my Lute, I le sing Charms.

Mast.

He must have Musick now: I must observe him, His sit will grow too full else.

Musick, Song.

2 Gent.

I must pity him

Mast.

Now he will in himself most quietly, And clean forget all, as he had done nothing.

1 Gent.

We are sorry, Sir: and we have seen a wonder; From this hour we'll believe, and so we'll leave ye.

Ex.

Ped.

This was a strange fit.

Mast.

Did ye mark him, Sir?

Ped.

He might have cozen'd me with his behaviour.

Mast.

Many have sworn him right, and I have thought so: Yet on a sudden, from some word, or other, When no man could expect a sit, he has flown out: I dare not give him will.

Enter Alinda.

Ped.

Pray Heaven recover him.

Alin.

Must I come in too?

Mast.

No, my pretty Lad; Keep in thy Chamber Boy; 'shalt have thy supper.

Ped.

I pray ye what is he, Sir?

Mast.

A strange ••oy, that last night Was found i'th' Town, a little craz'd, distracted, And so s••nt hither.

Ped.

How the pretty Knave looks, And plays, and peeps upon me! sure such eyes I have seen, and lov'd: what fair han••s? certainly—

Mast.

Good Sir, you'l make him worse.

Ped.

I pray believe not.

Alas, why shold I hurt him? how he smiles! The very shape, and sweetness of Alinda: Let me look once again: were it in such clothes As when I saw her last; this must be she. How tenderly it stroaks me?

Mast.

Pray ye be mild Sir; I must attend elsewhere.

Exit.

Ped.

Pray ye be secure Sir, What would ye say? how my heart beats and trembles! He holds me hard by th' hand; O my life, her flesh too! I know not what to think: her tears, her true ones; Pure orient tears: Hark, do you know me little one?

Alin.

O Pedro Pedro!

Ped.

O my soul!

Gent.

What fit's this? The Pilgrim's off the hooks too.

Alin.

Let me hold thee, And now come all the world, and all that hate me.

Ped.

Be wise, and not discovered: O how I love ye! How do ye now?

Alin.

I have been miserable; But your most vertuous eyes have cur'd me, Pedro: Pray ye think it no immodesty, I kiss ye, My head's wild still.

Ped.

Be not so full of passion, Nor do not hang so greedily upon me; 'Twill be ill taken.

Alin.

Are ye weary of me? I will hang here eternally, kiss ever, And weep away for joy.

Enter Master.

Master.

I told ye Sir, What ye would do: for shame do not afflict him; You have drawn his fit upon him fearfully: Either depart, and presently; I'le force ye else. Who waits within?

Enter two Keepers to fetch 'em off.

Ped.

Alas good Sir. This is the way never to hope recovery.

Mast.

Stay but one minute more, I'le complain to the Governour, Bring in the boy: do you see how he swells, and tears himself? Is this your cure? Be gone; if the boy miscarry Let me ne'r find you more, for I'le so hamper ye—

Gent.

You were to blame: too rash.

Ped.

Farewel for ever.

Exeunt.