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 IV.

Enter Angelo.

Ang.

I cannot keep from this ungodly woman, This Lelia, whom I know too, yet am caught, Her looks are nothing like her; would her faults Were all in Paris print upon her face, Cum Privilegio, to use 'em still, I would write an Epistle before it, on the inside of her masque And dedicate it to the whore of Babylon, with a preface upon Her nose to the gentle Reader; and they should be to be sold At the sign of the whores head i'th' pottage pot, in what Street you please. But all this helps not me; — I Am made to be thus catch'd, past any redress, with a thing I contemn too. I have read Epict••tus twice over against the Desire of these outward things, and still her face runs in My mind, I went to say my prayers, and they were So laid out o'th' way, that if I could find any prayers I Had, I'm no Christian, This is the door, and the short Is, I must see her again.—

He knocks.

Enter Maid.

Maid.

Who's there?

Ang.

'Tis I, I would speak with your Mistriss.

Maid.

Did she send for you?

Ang.

No, what then? I would see her, prethee by thy leave.

Maid.

Not by my leave; for she will not see you, but doth hate you, and Your friend, and doth wish you both hang'd, which being so proper Men, is great pity, that you are not.

Ang.

How's this?

Maid.

For your sweet self in particular, who she resolves perswaded your Friend to neglect her, she deemeth whip-cord the most Convenient unction for your back and shoulders.

Ang.

Let me in, I'le satisfie her.

Ma.

And if it shall happen that you are in doubt of these my speeches, Insomuch 〈◊〉〈◊〉 you shall spend more time in arguing at the Door, I am fully perswaded that my Mistris in person from Above, will utter her mind more at large by way of Urine upon your head, that it may sink the more soundly Into your understanding faculties.

Ang.

This is the strangest thing, good pretty soul, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 dost thou use me so? I pray thee let me in sweet-heart.

Maid.

Indeed I cannot sweet-heart.

Ang.

Thou art a handsom one, and this crosseness do's not become thee.

Maid.

Alas I cannot help it.

Ang.

Especially to me; thou knowst when I was here, I said I lik'd thee of All thy Mistriss Servants.

Maid.

So did I you, though it be not my fortune to express It at this present: for truly if you would cry, I cannot Let you in.

Ang.

Pox on her, I must go the down-right way: look you Here is ten pound for you, let me speak with her.

Maid.

I like your gold well, but it is a thing by heaven I cannot do, she Will not speak with you, especially at this time, she has affairs.

Ang.

This makes her leave her jesting yet, but take it And let me see her, bring me to a place Where undiscerned of her self I may

Feed my desiring eyes but half an hour.

Maid.

Why faith I think I can, and I will stretch my wits And body too for gold: if you will swear as you Are gentle, not to stir, or speak, where you shall See or hear, now, or hereafter: give me your gold, I'le plant you.

Ang.

Why, as I am a Gentleman, I will not.

Maid.

Enough, quick, follow me.

Ex. Angelo, and Maid.

Enter Servant.

S.

Why where's this maid, she has much care of her business, Nell? I think she be sunk; — why Nell—whiew—

Maid within.

What's the matter?

Enter Maid.

Ser.

I pray you heartily come away, oh, come, come, the Gentleman My Mistris invited, is coming down the street, and the banquet Not yet brought out?—

They bring in the Banquet.

Lel. within.

Nell, Sirrah.

Maid.

I come forsooth.

Ser.

Now must I walk: when there's any fleshly matters in hand, my Mistris sends me of a four hours errand: but if I go not About mine own bodily business as well as she, I am a Turk.

Exit Servant.

Enter Father.

Fa.

What, all wide open? 'Tis the way to sin Doubtless; but I must on; the gates of Hell Are not more passable than these; how they Will be to get out, God knows, I must try. 'Tis very strange, if there be any life Within this house, would it would shew it self. What's here? a Banquet? and no mouth to eat, Or bid me do it? this is something like The entertainment of adventurous Knights Entring enchanted Castles: For the manner Though there be nothing dismal to be seen Amazes me a little; what is meant By this strange invitation? I will sound My Daughters meaning e're I speak to her, If it be possible, for by my voyce —

Musique.

She will discover me! hark, whence is this.

The SONG.

COme hither you that love, and hear me sing of joyes still growing Green, fresh, and lusty, as the pride of Spring, and over blowing. Come hither youths that blush, and dare not know what is desire, And old men worse than you, that cannot blow one spark of fire. And with the power of my enchanting Song, Boyes shall be able men, and old men young.

Enter Angelo, above.

Come hither you that hope, and you that cry, leave off complaining, Youth, strength, and beauty, that shall never dye, are here remaining. Come hither fools, and blush, you stay so long from being blest, And mad men worse than you, that suffer wrong, Yet seek no rest. And in an hour, with my enchanting Song, You shall be ever pleas'd, and young maids long.

Enter Lelia, and her Maid with a Night-gown and Slippers.

Lel.

Sir you are welcom hither, as this kiss Given with a larger freedom than the use Of strangers will admit, shall witness to you. Put the gown on him, in this chair sit down; Give him his slippers: be not so amaz'd, Here's to your health, and you shall feel this wine Stir lively in me, in the dead of night, Give him some wine; fall to your banquet Sir, And let us grow in mirth; though I am set Now thus far off you, yet four glasses hence I will sit here, And try, till both our bloods Shoot up and down to find a passage out, Then mouth to mouth will we walk up to bed, And undress one another as we go; Where both my treasure, body, and my soul Are your's to be dispos'd of.

Fa.

Umh, umh. — Makes signs of his white head & heard.

Lel.

You are old, Is that your meaning? why, you are to me The greater novelty, all our fresh youth Are daily offer'd me, though you perform As you think little, yet you satisfie My appetite: from your experience I may learn something in the way of lust I may be better for. But I can teach These young ones; But this day I did refuse A paire of 'em, Julio, and Angelo, And told them they were as they were Raw fools and whelps.a

Maid.

Pray God he speak not.b

Lel.

Why speak you not sweet sir?

Fath.

Umh.—

Stops his ears, shews he is troubled with the Musick

Lel.

Peace there, that musique, now Sir speak To me.

Fath.

Umh. —

Points at the Maid.

Lel.

Why? would you have her gone? you need not keep Your freedom in for her; she knows my life That she might write it; Think she is a stone. She is a kind of bawdy Confessor, And will not utter secrets.

Fath.

Umh. —

Points at her again.

Lel.

Be gone then, since he needs will have it so, 'Tis all one.

Exit Maid.— Fath. locks the door.

Is all now as you would? come meet me then, And bring a thousand kisses on thy lips, And I will rob thee of 'em, and yet leave Thy lips as wealthy as they were before.

Fath.

Yes, all is as I would but thou.

Lel.

By Heaven 'tis my Father.—

Starts.

Fath.

And I do beseech thee Leave these unheard of lusts which worse become thee, Than mocking of thy Father; let thine eyes Reflect upon thy soul, and there behold How loathed black it is; and whereas now Thy face is heavenly fair, but thy mind foul, Go but into thy Closet, and there cry Till thou hast spoil'd that face, and thou shalt find How excellent a change thou wilt have made For inward beauty.

Lel.

Though I know him now To be my Father, never let me live If my lust do abate, I'le take upon me To have known him all this while.

Fath.

Look, dost thou know me?

Lel.

I knew ye Sir before.

Fath.

VVhat didst thou do?

Lel.

Knew you, and so unmov'dly have you born All the sad crosses that I laid upon you, VVith such a noble temper, which indeed I purposely cast on you, to discern Your carriage in calamity, and you Have undergone 'em with that brave contempt, That I have turn'd the reverence of a child

Into the hot affection of a Lover. Nor can there on the earth be found but yours A spirit fit to meet with mine.

Fath.

A woman? thou art not sure.

Lel.

Look and believe.

Fath.

Thou art Something created to succeed the Devil When he grows weary of his envious course, And compassing the World; but I believe thee Thou didst but mean to try my patience, And dost so still; but better be advis'd, And make thy tryal with some other things, That safelier will admit a dalliance; And if it should be earnest, understand How curst thou art, so far from Heaven, That thou believ'st it not enough to damn alone, Or with a stranger, but wouldst heap all sins Unnatural upon this aged head, And draw thy Father to thy Bed, and Hell.

Lel.

You are deceiv'd, Sir, 'tis not against nature For us to lye together; if you have An Arrow of the same Tree with your Bow, Is't more unnatural to shoot it there Than in another? 'Tis our general nature To procreate, as fire is to consume, And it will trouble you to find a stick The fire will turn from; If't be Natures will We should not mix, she will discover to us Some most apparent crossness, as our organs Will not be fit; which, if we do perceive, We'll leave, and think it is her pleasure That we should deal with others.

Fath.

The doors are fast, thou shalt not say a Prayer, 'Tis not Heavens will thou shouldst, when this is done I'll kill my self, that never man may tell me I got thee.

Father draws his Sword, Angelo discovers himself.

Lel.

I pray you, Sir, help her, for Heavens sake, Sir.

Ang.

Hold, Reverend Sir, for honour of your Age.

Fath.

Who's that?

Ang.

For safety of your Soul, and of the Soul Of that too-wicked woman yet to dye.

Fath.

What art thou? and how cam'st thou to that place?

Ang.

I am a man so strangely hither come, That I have broke an Oath in speaking this, But I believe 'twas better broke than kept, And I desire your patience; let me in, And I protest I will not hinder you In any act you wish, more than by word, If so I can perswade you, that I will not Use violence, I'll throw my Sword down to you; This house holds none but I, only a maid Whom I will lock fast in as I come down.

Fath.

I do not know thee, but thy tongue doth seem To be acquainted with the truth so well, That I will let thee in; throw down thy Sword.

Ang.

There 'tis.

Lel.

How came he there? I am betray'd to shame, The fear of sudden death struck me all over So violently, that I scarce have breath

He lets in Angelo, and locks the Door.

To speak yet; but I have it in my head, And out it shall, that (Father) may perhaps O'r-reach you yet.

Enter Father, and Angelo.

Fath.

Come, Sir, what is't you say?

Lel.

My Angelo, by all the joys of love, Thou art as welcome as these pliant arms Twin'd round, and fast about thee, can perswade thee.

Ang.

Away.

Lel.

I was in such a fright before thou cam'st, Yond' old mad fellow (it will make thee laugh, Though it feared me) has talkt so wildly here— Sirrah, he rush'd in at my doors, and swore He was my Father, and I think believ'd it; But that he had a Sword, and threatned me— I' faith he was good sport, good, thrust him out, That thou and I may kiss together; wilt thou?

Fath.

Are you her Champion? and with these fair words Got in to rescue her from me?

Offers to run at him.

Ang.

Hold, Sir, I swear I do not harbour such a thought, I speak it not, for that you have two Swords, But for 'tis truth.

Lel.

Two Swords, my Angelo? Think this, that thou hast two young brawny arms And ne'r a Sword, and he has two good Swords, And ne'r an arm to use 'em; rush upon him, I could have beaten him with this weak Body, If I had had the spirit of a man.

Ang.

Stand from me, and leave talking, or, by Heaven, I'll trample thy last damning word out of thee.

Fath.

Why do you hinder me then? stand away, And I will rid her quickly.

Lel.

Would I were Clear of this business, yet I cannot pray.

Ang.

Oh, be advis'd, why you were better kill her If she were good; convey her from this place, Where none but you, and such as you appoint, May visit her; where, let her hear of nought But death and damning, which she hath deserv'd, Till she be truly, justly sorrowful, And then lay mercy to her, who does know But she may mend?

Fath.

But whither should I bear her?

Ang.

To my house, 'Tis large, and private, I will lend it you.

Fath.

I thank you, Sir, and happily it fits With some design I have: but how shall we Convey her?

Lel.

Will they carry me away?

Fath.

For she will scratch and kick, and scream so loud That people will be drawn to rescue her.

Ang.

Why? none can hear her here but her own maid, Who is as fast as she.

Fath.

But in the street?

Ang.

Why, we will take 'em both into the Kitchen, There bind 'em, and then gag 'em, and then throw 'em Into a Coach I'll bring to the back-door, And hurry 'em away.

Fath.

It shall be so, I owe you much for this, and I may pay you, There is your Sword, lay hold upon her quickly, This way with me, thou disobedient Child, Why does thy stubborn heart beat at thy breast? Let it be still, for I will have it search'd Till I have found a Well of living tears Within it, that shall spring out of thine eyes, And flow all o'r thy Body foul'd with sin, Till it have wash'd it quite without a stain.

They drag her.

Lel.

Help, help, ah! ah! Murther, I shall be murthered, I shall be murthered.

Fath.

This helps thee not.

Lel.

Basely murthered, basely.

Fath.

I warrant you.

Exeunt.

Notes

• a

  Ang. makes discontented signs.
• b

  Maid laies her finger cross her mouth to him.