Monsieur Thomas A comedy. Acted at the Private House in Blacke Fryers. The author, Iohn Fletcher, Gent.

Scena Prima.

Enter Francksick, Physitians, and a Pothecary.

1 Phis.

CLap on the Cataplasme.

Fra.

Good Gentlemen, Good learned Gentlemen.

2

And see those brothe•• there, Ready within this houre, pray keep your armes in, The ayre is raw, and ministers much evill.

Fra.

Pray leave me: I beseech ye leave me gentlemen. I have no other sicknesse but your presence, Convey your Cataplasmes to those that need 'em, Your Vomits, and your Clysters.

3

Pray be rul'd sir.

1

Bring in the Lettice cap: you must be shaved sir, And then how suddenly wee'l make you sleep.

Fra.

Till doomes-day: what unnecessary nothings Are these about a wounded minde?

2

How doe ye?

Fra.

What questions they propound too: how do you sir? I am glad to see you well.

3

A great distemper, it growes hotter still.

1

Open your mouth I pray sir.

Fra.

And can you tell me How old I am then? there's my hand, pray shew me How many broken shins within this two yeare. Who would be thus in fetters, good master Doctor, And you deere Doctor, and the third sweet Doctor And pretious master Apothecary, I doe pray ye To give me leave to live a little longer, Ye stand before me like my blacks.

2

'Tis dangerous, For now his fancy turnes too.

Enter Cellide.

Cell.

By your leave Gentlemen: And pray ye your leave a while too, I have something Of secret to imparr unto the patient.

1

Withall our hearts.

3

I mary such a Physicke May chance to find the humour: be not long Lady For we must minister within this halfe houre.

Exit. Plus.

Cell.

You shall not stay for me.

Fra.

Would you were all rotten That ye might only intend one anothers itches: Or would the Gentlemen with one consent Would drinke small Beere but seven yeare, and abolish That wildfire of the bloud, unsatiate wenching That your too Indies, springs and fals might faile ye What torments these intruders into bodies.

Cell.

How do you worthy Sir?

Fra.

Blesse me, what beames Flew from these angell eyes: O what a misery What a most studdied torment tis to me now To be an honest man: dare ye sit by me?

Cell.

Yes; and do more then that too: comfort ye I see ye have need.

Fra.

You are a faire Physitian: You bring no bitternesse gilt ore, to gull us No danger in your lookes, yet there my death lyes.

Cell.

I would be sorry sir, my charity And my good wishes for your health should merit So stubborn•• a construction: will it please ye To taste a little of this Cordiall

Enter Valentine.

For this I thinke must cure ye.

Fra.

Of which Lady? Sure she has found my griefe? why do you blush so?

Cell.

Do you not understand? of this, this Cordiall.

Val.

Of my afflicted heart: she is gon for ever.

Fra.

What heaven ye have brought me Lady?

Cell.

Do not wonder: For tis not impudence, nor want of honour Makes me do this: but love to save your life sir Your life, too excellent to loose in wishes Love, virtuous love.

Fra.

A vertuous blessing crowne ye O goodly sweet, can there be so much charity So noble a compassion in that heart That's filled up with anothers faire affections? Can mercy drop from those eyes. Can miracles be wrought upon a dead man, When all the power ye have, and perfect object Lyes in anothers light: and his deserves it?

Cell.

Do not dispaire: nor do not thinke to boldly I dare abuse my promise, t'was your friends And so fast tyde, I thought no time could ruine: But so much has your danger, and that spell The powerfull name of friend, prevail'd above him To whom I ever owe obedience, That here I am, by his command to cure ye, Nay more for ever, by his full resignement And willingly I ratefie it.

Fra.

Hold for heaven sake, Must my friends misery make me a triumph? Beare I that noble name, to be a Traitor? O vertuous goodnes, keepe thy selfe untainted: You have no power to yeeld, nor he to render Nor I to take: I am resolv'd to die first.

Val.

Ha; saist thou so? nay then thou shalt not perish.

Fra.

And though I love ye above the light shines on me, Beyond the wealth of Kingdomes, free content, Sooner would snatch at such a blessing offer'd Then at my pardon'd life by the law forfeited, Yet, yet O noble beauty, yet O paradise For you are all the wonder reveal'd of it, Yet is a gratitude to be preserv'd A worthy gratitude to one most worthy. The name, and noblenes of friends.

Cell.

Pray tell me If I had never knowne that gentleman Would you not willingly embrace my offer?

Fra.

Do you make a doubt?

Cell.

And can ye be unwilling He being old and impotent: his aime too Levell'd at you, for your good? not constrain'd, But out of cure, and councell? alas consider Play but the woman with me, and consider As he himselfe do's, and I now dare see it Truly consider sir, what misery.

Fra.

For vertues sake take heed.

Cell.

What losse of youth, What everlasting banishment from that Our yeares doe only covet to arive at Equall affections and shot together: What living name can dead age leave behind him What art of memory but fruitlesse doating?

Fra.

This cannot be.

Cell.

To you unlesse ye apply it With more and firmer faith, and so digest it I speake but of things possible, not done Nor like to be, a posset cures your sicknesse And yet I know ye grieve this; and howsoever The worthines of Friend may make ye stagger Which is a faire thing in ye, yet my Patient, My gentle Patient, I would faine say more If you would understand.

Val.

O cruell Woman.

Cell.

Yet sure your sicknesse is not so forgetfull Nor you so willing to be lost.

Fra.

Pray stay there: Me thinks you are not faire now; me thinks more That modest, vertue, men delivered of you Shewes but like shadow to me, thin, and fading.

Val.

Excellent Friend.

Fra.

Ye have no share in goodnesse: Ye are belyde; you are not Cellide,

The modest, unaculate: who are ye? For I will know: what devill to do mischiefe Vnto my vertuous Friend, hath shifted shapes With that unblemished beauty.

Cell.

Do not rave Sir, Nor let the violence of thoughts distract ye, You shall enjoy me: I am yours: I pitty By those faire eyes I do.

Fra.

O double hearted, O woman, perfect woman: what distraction Was meant to mankind when thou was't made a devill, What an invyting hell invented? tell me, And if you yet remember what i•• goodnesse, Tell me by that, and truth, can one so cherish'd So sainted in the soule of him, whose service Is almost turn'd to supperstition, Whose every day endeavours, and desires Offer themselves like incense on your altar, Whose heart holds no int••lligence, but holy And most religious with his love; whose life (And let it ever be remembred Lady) Is drawne out only for your ends.

Val.

O miracle.

Fra.

Whose all, and every part of man: pray make me Like ready Pages wait upon y••ur pleasures; Whose breath is but your bubble. Can ye, dare ye, Must ye cast of this man, though he were willing, Though in a noblenes, so crosse my danger His friendship durst confirme it, without basenesse, Without the staine of honour? shall not people Say liberally hereafter, ther's the Lady That lost her Father, Friend, herselfe, her faith too, To fawne upon a stranger, for ought you know As faithlesse as your selfe, in love as fruitlesse?

Val.

Take her withall my heart, thou art so honest That tis most necessary I be undone.

Cell.

With all my soule possesse her.

Exit, Val.

Till this minut.

I scorn'd, and hated ye, and came to cosen ye: Vtter'd those things might draw a wonder on me, To make ye mad.

Fra.

Good heaven, what is this woman?

Cell.

Nor did your danger, but in charity. Move me a whit: nor you appeare unto me More then a common object, yet, now truely, Truely, and nobly I doe love ye deerely, And from this houre, ye are the man I honour, You are the man, the excellence, the honesty, The onely friend, and I am glad your sicknesse Fell so most happily at this time on ye, To make this truth the worlds.

Fra.

Whether doe you drive me?

Cell.

Backe to your honesty, make that good ever, 'Tis like a strong built Castle, seated high, That drawes on all ambitions, still repaire it, Still fortifie it: there are thousand foes Besides the tyrant beauty, will assaile it: Looke to your Centin is that watch it hourely, Your eyes, let them not wander.

Fra.

Is this serious?

Cell.

Or do's she play still with me? Keep your eares, The two maine ports that may betray ye strongly From light beliefe first, then from flattery, Especially where woman beats the parley: The body of your strength, your noble heart From ever yeelding ro dishonest ends, Rigd round about with vertue, that no breaches, No subtle mynes may meet ye.

Fra.

How like the Sun Labouring in his eclipse, darke, and prodigious, She shew'd till now? when having won her way, How full of wonder he breakes out againe, And sheds his vertuous beames: excellent Angell,

For no lesse can that heavenly minde proclaime thee, Honour of all thy sexe, let it be lawfull, And like a pilgrim thus I kneele to beg it, Not with prophane lips now, nor burnt affections, But, reconcil'd to faith, with holy wishes, To kisse that virgin hand.

Cel.

Take your desire sir, And in a nobler way, for I dare trust ye, No other fruit my love must ever yeeld yee, I feare no more: yet your most constant memory (So much I am wedded to that worthinesse) Shall ever be my friend, companion, husband, Farewell, and fairely governe your affections, Stand, and deceive me not: O noble yong man, I love thee with my soule, but dare not say it: Once more farewell, and prosper.

Exit.

Fra.

Goodnesse guide thee: My wonder like to fearefull shapes in dreames, Has wakened me out of my fit of folly, But not to shake it off: a spell dwels in me, A hidden charme shot from this beauteous woman, That fate can ne'r avoid, nor physicke finde, And by her counsell strengthen'd: onely this Is all the helpe I have, I love faire vertue. Well, something I must doe, to be a friend, Yet I am poore, and tardy: something for her too, Though I can never reach her excellence, Yet but to give an offer at a greatnesse.

Enter Valentine, Thomas, Hylas, and Sam.

Val.

Be not uncivill Tom, and take your pleasure.

Thom.

Doe you think I am mad? you'l give me leave To try her fairely?

Val.

Doe your best.

Thom.

Why there boy, But wher's the sicke man?

Hyl.

Where are the gentlewomen

That should attend him, ther's the patent Me thinks these women.

Thom.

Thou thinkst nothing else.

Ʋal.

Goe to him friend, and comfort him: Ile leade ye: O my best joy, my worthiest friend, ptay pardon me, I am so over-joy'd I want expression: I may live to be thankfull: bid your friends welcome.

Exit. Val.

Thom.

How do'st thou Frank? how do'st thou boy, beare up man: What, shrink i'th sinewes for a little sicknesse? Deavolo morte.

Fra.

I am o'th mending hand.

Thom.

How like a Flute thou speak'st: o'th mending hand man Gogs bores, I am well, speake like a man of worship.

Fra.

Thou art a mad companion: never staid Tom?

Tho.

Let rogues be staid that have no habitation, A gentleman may wander: sit thee down Frank, And see what I have brought thee: come discover, Open the sceane, and let the work appeare, A friend at need you rogue is worth a million.

Fra.

What hast thou there, a julip?

Hyl.

He must not touch it, 'Tis present death.

Tho.

Ye are an Asse, a twirepipe, A Ieffrey John bo peepe, thou mimister, Thou mend a left-handed pack-saddle, out puppey, My friend Frank, but a very foolish fellow: Do'st thou see that bottle? view it well.

Fran.

I doe Tom.

Tom.

There be as many lives in't, as a Cat carries, 'Tis everlasting liquor.

Fra.

What?

Tom.

Old Sack boy, Old reverend Sack, which for ought that I can reade yet, Was that Philosophers Stone the wise King Ptolomeus Did all his wonders by.

Fra.

I see no harme Tom, Drinke with a moderation.

Tom.

Drinke with suger; Which I have ready here, and here a glasse boy, Take me without my tooles.

Sam.

Pray sir be temperate, You know your owne state best.

Fra.

Sir, I much thanke ye, And shall be carefull: yet a glasse or two So fit I finde my body, and that so needfull.

Tom,

Fill it, and leave your fooling: thou say'st true Frank.

Hyl.

Where are these women I say?

Tom.

Tis most necessary, Hang up your julips, and your portugall possets, Your barly brothes, and sorrell sops, they are mangy, And breed the scratches onely: give me Sack: I wonder where this wench is though: have at thee:

Hyl.

So long, and yet no bolting.

Fra.

Doe, I'le pledge thee.

Tom.

Take it off thrice, and then cry heigh like a Huntsman With a cleere heart, and no more fits I warrant thee. The onely Cordiall Frank.

Phis. within, & Serv.

1 Phis.

Are the things ready? And is the Barber come?

Ser.

An houre agoe sir.

1 Phis.

Bring out the oyles then.

Fra.

Now or never gentlemen, Doe me a kindenesse and deliver me.

Tom

From whom boy?

Fra.

From these things, that talke within there, Physitians, Tom, Physitians, scowring-sticks, They meane to reade upon me.

Enter three Phis. Apoth. and Barber.

Hyl.

Let 'em enter.

Tom.

And be thou confident, we will deliver thee: For looke ye Doctor, say the divell were sicke now, His hornes saw'd off and his head bound with a Biggin, Sicke of a calenture tak••n by a surfet

Of stinking soules at his nephews, and S. Dunstans, What would you minister upon the sudden? Your judgement short and sound.

1 Ph.

A fooles head.

Tom.

No sir, It must be a Physitians for three causes, The first because it is a bald head likely, Which will down easily without apple-pap.

3 Phis.

A maine cause.

Tom.

So it is, and well consider'd, The second, for 'tis fil'd with broken Greek sir, Which will so tumble in his stomacke, Doctor, And worke upon the crudities, conceive me The feares, and the fidle strings within it, That those damn'd soules must disembogue againe.

Hyl.

Or meeting with the stygian humour.

Tom.

Right sir.

Hyl.

Forc'd with a cataplasme of crackers.

Tom.

Ever.

Hyl.

Scowre all before him, like a Scavenger.

Tom.

Satis fecisti domine: my last cause, My last is, and not least, most learned Doctors, Because in most Physitians heads (I meane those That are most excellent, and old withall, And angry, though a patient say his prayers, And Paracelsians that doe trade with poysons, We have it by tradition of great writers) There is a kinde of toad-stone bread, whose vertue The Doctor being dri'd.

1 Phis.

We are abus'd sirs.

Hyl.

I take it so, or shall be, for say the belly-ake Caus'd by an inundation of Pease-porridge, Are we therefore to open the port veyne, Or the port Esquiline?

Sam.

A learned question: Or grant the diaphragm•• by a rupture, The signe being then in the head of Capricorne.

Tom.

Meet with the passion Hupercondriaca,

And so cause a carnositie in the kidneyes.

Tom.

Must not the brains being butter'd with this humour Answer me that.

Sam

Most excellently argued.

2 Phis.

The next fit you will have, my most fine schol Bedlam shall finde a salve for: fare ye well sir, We came to do•• you good, burthese yong Doctors It s••emes have boar'd our noses.

3

Drinke hard Gentlemen, And get unwholesome drabs: 'tis ten to one then We shall heare further from ye; your note alter'd.

Ex.

Tom.

And wilt thou be gone saies one?

Hyl.

And wilt thou be gone saies to'ther?

Toas.

Then take the odde crowne To mend thy old gowne.

Sam.

And we'l be gone all together.

Fra.

My learned Tom.

Enter Servant.

Ser.

Sir, the yong Gentlewomen Sent me to see what company ye had with ye They much desire to visite ye.

Fra.

Pray ye thanke 'em, And tell 'em my most sicknesse is their absence: Ye see my company.

Tom.

Come hither Crab, What gentlewomen are these? my Mistresse?

Ser.

Yes sir.

Hyl.

And who else?

Ser.

Mistresse Alice.

Hyl.

Oh.

Tom.

Harke ye sirha. No word of my being here, unlesse she know it.

Ser.

I doe not thinke she do's.

Tom.

Take that, and mum, then

Ser.

You have ty'd my tongue up.

Exit.

Tom.

Sit you downe good Francis,

And not a word of me till ye heare from me, And as you finde my humour, follow it: You two come hither, and stand close, unseen boyes, And doe as I shall tutor ye.

Fran.

What, new worke?

Tom.

Prethee no more, but helpe me now,

Hyl.

I would faine Talke with the gentlewomen.

Tom.

Talke with the gentlewomen? Of what forsooth? whose maiden-head the last maske Suffer'd impression, or whose clyster wrought best: Take me as I shall tell thee.

Hyl.

To what end? What other end came we along?

Sam.

Be rul'd though.

Tom.

Your wee zell face must needs be ferretting About the farthing-ale, Doe as I bid ye, Or by this light.

Hyl.

Come then,

Tom.

Stand close and marke me,

Fran.

All this forc'd foolery will never doe it.

Enter Alice and Mary.

Alice

I hope we bring ye health sir: how is't with ye?

Ma.

You look far better trust me, the fresh colour Creeps now againe into his cheeks.

Alice

Your enemy I see has done his worst. Come, we must have ye Lusty againe, and frolicke man; leave thinking

Ma.

Indeed it do's ye harme sir.

Fra.

My best visitants, I shall be govern'd by ye.

Alice

You shall be well then, And suddenly, and soundly well.

Ma.

This ayre sir laying now season'd ye: will keep ye ever.

Tho.

No, no, I have no hope, nor is it fit friends,

My life has bin so lewd, my loose condition, Which I repent too late, so lamentable, That any thing but curses light upon me, Exorbitant in all my waies.

Alice

Who's that sir, Another sicke man.

Ma.

Sure, I know that voyce well.

Tho.

In all my courses, curelesse disobedience.

Fra.

What a strange fellow's this?

Tho.

No counsell friends, No looke before I leapt.

Alice

Doe yo' know the voyce sir?

Fra.

Yes, 'tis a gentlemans that's much afflicted In's minde: great pitty Ladies.

Alice

Now heaven help him.

Fra.

He came to me, to aske free pardon of me, For some things done long since, which his distemper Made to appeare like wrong, but 'twas not so.

Ma.

O that this could be truth.

Hyl.

Perswade your selfe.

Tho.

To what end gentlemen, when all is perish'd Vpon a wrack, is there a hope remaining? The sea, that nev'r knew sorrow, may be pittifull, My credit's spilt, and sunke, nor is it possible, Were my life lengthened out as long as.

Ma.

I like this well.

Sam.

Your minde is too mistrustfull.

Tho.

I have a vertuous sister, but I scorn'd her, A Mistresse too, a noble gentlewoman, For goodnesse all out-going.

Alice

Now I know him.

Thom.

With these eyes friends, my eyes must nev'r see more.

Al.

This is for your sake Mary: take heed cosen, A man is not so soone made.

Tom.

O my fortune, But it is just, I be despis'd and hated.

Hyl.

Despaire not, 'tis not manly: one houres goodnesse Strikes off an infinite of ils.

Al.

Weepe truly And with compassion Cosin.

Fra.

How exactly This cunning yong theefe plaies his part.

Ma.

Well Tom My Tom againe, if this be truth.

Hil.

She weepes boy.

Tom.

O I shall die.

Ma.

Now heaven defend.

Sam.

Thou hast her.

Tom.

Come lead me to my Friend to take his farewell, And then what fortune shall befall me, welcome. How do's it show?

Hyl.

O rarely well.

Ma.

Say you so Sir.

Fra.

O ye grand Asse.

Ma.

And are ye there my Iuggler Away we are abus'd Alice.

Al.

Foole be with thee.

Exit. Ma. and Al.

Tom.

Where is she.

Fra.

Gon; she found you out, and finely, In your own nooze she halter'd ye: you must be whispering To know how things showd: not content to fare well But you must roare out rost meate; till that suspition You carried it most neately, she beleeved too And wept most tenderly; had you continew'd, Without doubt you had brought her off.

Tom.

This was thy Rouging. For thou wert ever whispering: fye upon thee Now could I breeks thy head.

Hyl.

You spoke to me first.

Tom.

Do not anger me, For by this hand ile beate the buzard blind then She shall not scape me thus: farewell for this time,

Fra.

Good night, tis almost bed time: yet no sleepe Must enter these eyes, till I worke a wonder.

Exit.

Tom.

Thou shalt along too, for I meane to plague thee For this nights sins, I will nev'r leave walking of thee

Till I have worne thee out.

Hyl.

Your will be done Sir.

Tom.

You will not leave me Sam.

Sam.

Not I.

To.

Away then: ile be your guid now, if my man be trusty My spightfull Dame, ile pipe ye such a huntsup Shall make ye daunce a tipvaes: keepe close to me.

Exeunt.